this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] pierre and his people tales of the far north by gilbert parker volume 5. antoine and angelique the cipher a tragedy of nobodies a sanctuary of the plains antoine and angelique "the birds are going south, antoine--see--and it is so early!" "yes, angelique, the winter will be long." there was a pause, and then: "antoine, i heard a child cry in the night, and i could not sleep." "it was a devil-bird, my wife; it flies slowly, and the summer is dead." "antoine, there was a rushing of wings by my bed before the morn was breaking." "the wild-geese know their way in the night, angelique; but they flew by the house and not near thy bed." "the two black squirrels have gone from the hickory tree." "they have hidden away with the bears in the earth; for the frost comes, and it is the time of sleep." "a cold hand was knocking at my heart when i said my aves last night, my antoine." "the heart of a woman feels many strange things: i cannot answer, my wife." "let us go also southward, antoine, before the great winds and the wild frost come." "i love thee, angelique, but i cannot go." "is not love greater than all?" "to keep a pledge is greater." "yet if evil come?" "there is the mine." "none travels hither; who should find it?" he said to me, my wife: 'antoine, will you stay and watch the mine until i come with the birds northward, again?' and i said: 'i will stay, and angelique will stay; i will watch the mine.'" "this is for his riches, but for our peril, antoine." "who can say whither a woman's fancy goes? it is full of guessing. it is clouds and darkness to-day, and sunshine--so much--to-morrow. i cannot answer." "i have a fear; if my husband loved me--" "there is the mine," he interrupted firmly. "when my heart aches so--" "angelique, there is the mine." "ah, my antoine!" and so these two stayed on the island of st. jean, in lake superior, through the purple haze of autumn, into the white brilliancy of winter, guarding the rose tree mine, which falding the englishman and his companions had prospected and declared to be their ophir. but st. jean was far from the ways of settlement, and there was little food and only one hut, and many things must be done for the rose tree mine in the places where men sell their souls for money; and antoine and angelique, french peasants from the parish of ste. irene in quebec, were left to guard the place of treasure, until, to the sound of the laughing spring, there should come many men and much machinery, and the sinking of shafts in the earth, and the making, of riches. but when antoine and angelique were left alone in the waste, and god began to draw the pale coverlet of frost slowly across land and water, and to surround st. jean with a stubborn moat of ice, the heart of the woman felt some coming danger, and at last broke forth in words of timid warning. when she once had spoken she said no more, but stayed and builded the heaps of earth about the house, and filled every crevice against the inhospitable spirit of winds, and drew her world closer and closer within those two rooms where they should live through many months. the winter was harsh, but the hearts of the two were strong. they loved; and love is the parent of endurance, the begetter of courage. and every day, because it seemed his duty, antoine inspected the rose tree mine; and every day also, because it seemed her duty, angelique said many aves. and one prayer was much with her--for spring to come early that the child should not suffer: the child which the good god was to give to her and antoine. in the first hours of each evening antoine smoked, and angelique sang the old songs which their ancestors learned in normandy. one night antoine's face was lighted with a fine fire as he talked of happy days in the parish of ste. irene; and with that romantic fervour of his race which the stern winters of canada could not kill, he sang, 'a la claire fontaine,' the well-beloved song-child of the 'voyageurs'' hearts. and the wife smiled far away into the dancing flames--far away, because the fire retreated, retreated to the little church where they two were wed; and she did as most good women do--though exactly why, man the insufficient cannot declare--she wept a little through her smiles. but when the last verse came, both smiles and tears ceased. antoine sang it with a fond monotony: "would that each rose were growing upon the rose-tree gay, and that the fatal rose-tree deep in the ocean lay. 'i ya longtemps que je t'aime jamais je ne t'oublierai." angelique's heart grew suddenly heavy. from the rose-tree of the song her mind fled and shivered before the leafless rose-tree by the mine; and her old dread came back. of course this was foolish of angelique; of course the wise and great throw contumely on all such superstition; and knowing women will smile at each other meaningly, and with pity for a dull man-writer, and will whisper, "of course, the child." but many things, your majesties, are hidden from your wisdom and your greatness, and are given to the simple --to babes, and the mothers of babes. it was upon this very night that falding the englishman sat with other men in a london tavern, talking joyously. "there's been the luck of heaven," he said, "in the whole exploit. we'd been prospecting for months. as a sort of try in a back-water we rowed over one night to an island and pitched tents. not a dozen yards from where we camped was a rose-tree-think of it, belgard, a rose-tree on a rag-tag island of lake superior! 'there's luck in odd numbers, says rory o'more.' 'there's luck here,' said i; and at it we went just beside the rose-tree. what's the result? look at that prospectus: a company with a capital of two hundred thousand; the whole island in our hands in a week; and antoine squatting on it now like bonaparte on elbe." "and what does antoine get out of this?" said belgard. "forty dollars a month and his keep." "why not write him off twenty shares to propitiate the gods--gifts unto the needy, eh!--a thousand-fold--what?" "yes; it might be done, belgard, if--" but someone just then proposed the toast, "the rose tree mine!" and the souls of these men waxed proud and merry, for they had seen the investor's palm filled with gold, the maker of conquest. while antoine was singing with his wife, they were holding revel within the sound of bow bells. and far into the night, through silent cheapside, a rolling voice swelled through much laughter thus: "gai ion la, gai le rosier, du joli mois de mai." the next day there were heavy heads in london; but the next day, also, a man lay ill in the hut on the island of st. jean. antoine had sung his last song. he had waked in the night with a start of pain, and by the time the sun was halting at noon above the rose tree mine, he had begun a journey, the record of which no man has ever truly told, neither its beginning nor its end; because that which is of the spirit refuseth to be interpreted by the flesh. some signs there be, but they are brief and shadowy; the awe of it is hidden in the mind of him that goeth out lonely unto god. when the call goes forth, not wife nor child nor any other can hold the wayfarer back, though he may loiter for an instant on the brink. the poor medicaments which angelique brings avail not; these soothing hands and healing tones, they pass through clouds of the middle place between heaven and earth to antoine. it is only when the second midnight comes that, with conscious, but pensive and far-off, eyes, he says to her: "angelique, my wife." for reply her lips pressed his cheek, and her fingers hungered for his neck. then: "is there pain now antoine?" "there is no pain, angelique." he closed his eyes slowly; her lips framed an ave. "the mine," he said, "the mine--until the spring." "yes, antoine, until the spring." "have you candles--many candles, angelique?" "there are many, my husband." "the ground is as iron; one cannot dig, and the water under the ice is cruel--is it not so, angelique?" "no axe could break the ground, and the water is cruel," she said. "you will see my face until the winter is gone, my wife." she bowed her head, but smoothed his hand meanwhile, and her throat was quivering. he partly slept--his body slept, though his mind was feeling its way to wonderful things. but near the morning his eyes opened wide, and he said: "someone calls out of the dark, angelique." and she, with her hand on her heart, replied: "it is the cry of a dog, antoine." "but there are footsteps at the door, my wife." "nay, antoine; it is the snow beating upon the window." "there is the sound of wings close by--dost thou not hear them, angelique?" "wings--wings," she falteringly said: "it is the hot blast through the chimney; the night is cold, antoine." "the night is very cold," he said; and he trembled. . . "i hear, o my wife, i hear the voice of a little child . . . the voice is like thine, angelique." and she, not knowing what to reply, said softly: "there is hope in the voice of a child;" and the mother stirred within her; and in the moment he knew also that the spirits would give her the child in safety, that she should not be alone in the long winter. the sounds of the harsh night had ceased--the snapping of the leafless branches, the cracking of the earth, and the heaving of the rocks: the spirits of the frost had finished their work; and just as the grey forehead of dawn appeared beyond the cold hills, antoine cried out gently: "angelique . . . ah, mon capitaine . . . jesu" . . . and then, no more. night after night angelique lighted candles in the place where antoine smiled on in his frozen silence; and masses were said for his soul--the masses love murmurs for its dead. the earth could not receive him; its bosom was adamant; but no decay could touch him; and she dwelt alone with this, that was her husband, until one beautiful, bitter day, when, with no eye save god's to see her, and no human comfort by her, she gave birth to a man-child. and yet that night she lighted the candles at the dead man's head and feet, dragging herself thither in the cold; and in her heart she said that the smile on antoine's face was deeper than it had been before. in the early spring, when the earth painfully breathed away the frost that choked it, with her child for mourner, and herself for sexton and priest, she buried antoine with maimed rites: but hers were the prayers of the poor, and of the pure in heart; and she did not fret because, in the hour that her comrade was put away into the dark, the world was laughing at the thought of coming summer. before another sunrise, the owners of the island of st. jean claimed what was theirs; and because that which had happened worked upon their hearts, they called the child st. jean, and from that time forth they made him to enjoy the goodly fruits of the rose tree mine. the cipher hilton was staying his horse by a spring at guidon hill when he first saw her. she was gathering may-apples; her apron was full of them. he noticed that she did not stir until he rode almost upon her. then she started, first without looking round, as does an animal, dropping her head slightly to one side, though not exactly appearing to listen. suddenly she wheeled on him, and her big eyes captured him. the look bewildered him. she was a creature of singular fascination. her face was expressive. her eyes had wonderful light. she looked happy, yet grave withal; it was the gravity of an uncommon earnestness. she gazed through everything, and beyond. she was young--eighteen or so. hilton raised his hat, and courteously called a good-morning at her. she did not reply by any word, but nodded quaintly, and blinked seriously and yet blithely on him. he was preparing to dismount. as he did so he paused, astonished that she did not speak at all. her face did not have a familiar language; its vocabulary was its own. he slid from his horse, and, throwing his arm over its neck as it stooped to the spring, looked at her more intently, but respectfully too. she did not yet stir, but there came into her face a slight inflection of confusion or perplexity. again he raised his hat to her, and, smiling, wished her a good-morning. even as he did so a thought sprung in him. understanding gave place to wonder; he interpreted the unusual look in her face. instantly he made a sign to her. to that her face responded with a wonderful speech--of relief and recognition. the corners of her apron dropped from her fingers, and the yellow may-apples fell about her feet. she did not notice this. she answered his sign with another, rapid, graceful, and meaning. he left his horse and advanced to her, holding out his hand simply--for he was a simple and honest man. her response to this was spontaneous. the warmth of her fingers invaded him. her eyes were full of questioning. he gave a hearty sign of admiration. she flushed with pleasure, but made a naive, protesting gesture. she was deaf and dumb. hilton had once a sister who was a mute. he knew that amazing primal gesture-language of the silent race, whom god has sent like one-winged birds into the world. he had watched in his sister just such looks of absolute nature as flashed from this girl. they were comrades on the instant; he reverential, gentle, protective; she sanguine, candid, beautifully aboriginal in the freshness of her cipher-thoughts. she saw the world naked, with a naked eye. she was utterly natural. she was the maker of exquisite, vital gesture-speech. she glided out from among the may-apples and the long, silken grass, to charm his horse with her hand. as she started to do so, he hastened to prevent her, but, utterly surprised, he saw the horse whinny to her cheek, and arch his neck under her white palm--it was very white. then the animal's chin sought her shoulder and stayed placid. he had never done so to anyone before save hilton. once, indeed, he had kicked a stableman to death. he lifted his head and caught with playful shaking lips at her ear. hilton smiled; and so, as we said, their comradeship began. he was a new officer of the hudson's bay company at fort guidon. she was the daughter of a ranchman. she had been educated by father corraine, the jesuit missionary, protestant though she was. he had learned the sign-language while assistant-priest in a parisian chapel for mutes. he taught her this gesture-tongue, which she, taking, rendered divine; and, with this, she learned to read and write. her name was ida. ida was faultless. hilton was not; but no man is. to her, however, he was the best that man can be. he was unselfish and altogether honest, and that is much for a man. when pierre came to know of their friendship he shook his head doubtfully. one day he was sitting on the hot side of a pine near his mountain hut, soaking in the sun. he saw them passing below him, along the edge of the hill across the ravine. he said to someone behind him in the shade, who was looking also," what will be the end of that, eh?" and the someone replied: "faith, what the serpent in the wilderness couldn't cure." "you think he'll play with her?" "i think he'll do it without wishin' or willin', maybe. it'll be a case of kiss and ride away." there was silence. soon pierre pointed down again. she stood upon a green mound with a cool hedge of rock behind her, her feet on the margin of solid sunlight, her forehead bared. her hair sprinkled round her as she gently threw back her head. her face was full on hilton. she was telling him something. her gestures were rhythmical, and admirably balanced. because they were continuous or only regularly broken, it was clear she was telling him a story. hilton gravely, delightedly, nodded response now and then, or raised his eyebrows in fascinated surprise. pierre, watching, was only aware of vague impressions--not any distinct outline of the tale. at last he guessed it as a perfect pastoral-birds, reaping, deer, winds, sundials, cattle, shepherds, hunting. to hilton it was a new revelation. she was telling him things she had thought, she was recalling her life. towards the last, she said in gesture: "you can forget the winter, but not the spring. you like to remember the spring. it is the beginning. when the daisy first peeps, when the tall young deer first stands upon its feet, when the first egg is seen in the oriole's nest, when the sap first sweats from the tree, when you first look into the eye of your friend--these you want to remember. . . ." she paused upon this gesture--a light touch upon the forehead, then the hands stretched out, palms upward, with coaxing fingers. she seemed lost in it. her eyes rippled, her lips pressed slightly, a delicate wine crept through her cheek, and tenderness wimpled all. her soft breast rose modestly to the cool texture of her dress. hilton felt his blood bound joyfully; he had the wish of instant possession. but yet he could not stir, she held him so; for a change immediately passed upon her. she glided slowly from that almost statue-like repose into another gesture. her eyes drew up from his, and looked away to plumbless distance, all glowing and childlike, and the new ciphers slowly said: "but the spring dies away. we can only see a thing born once. and it may be ours, yet not ours. i have sighted the perfect sharon-flower, far up on guidon, yet it was not mine; it was too distant; i could not reach it. i have seen the silver bullfinch floating along the canon. i called to it, and it came singing; and it was mine, yet i could not hear its song, and i let it go; it could not be happy so with me. . . . i stand at the gate of a great city, and see all, and feel the great shuttles of sounds, the roar and clack of wheels, the horses' hoofs striking the ground, the hammer of bells; all: and yet it is not mine; it is far, far away from me. it is one world, mine is another; and sometimes it is lonely, and the best things are not for me. but i have seen them, and it is pleasant to remember, and nothing can take from us the hour when things were born, when we saw the spring--nothing--never!" her manner of speech, as this went on, became exquisite in fineness, slower, and more dream-like, until, with downward protesting motions of the hand, she said that "nothing--never!" then a great sigh surged up her throat, her lips parted slightly, showing the warm moist whiteness of her teeth, her hands falling lightly, drew together and folded in front of her. she stood still. pierre had watched this scene intently, his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees. presently he drew himself up, ran a finger meditatively along his lip, and said to himself: "it is perfect. she is carved from the core of nature. but this thing has danger for her. . . . 'bien!' . . . ah!" a change in the scene before him caused this last expression of surprise. hilton, rousing from the enchanting pantomime, took a step towards her; but she raised her hand pleadingly, restrainingly, and he paused. with his eyes he asked her mutely why. she did not answer, but, all at once transformed into a thing of abundant sprightliness, ran down the hillside, tossing up her arms gaily. yet her face was not all brilliance. tears hung at her eyes. but hilton did not see these. he did not run, but walked quickly, following her; and his face had a determined look. immediately, a man rose up from behind a rock on the same side of the ravine, and shook clenched fists after the departing figures; then stood gesticulating angrily to himself, until, chancing to look up, he sighted pierre, and straightway dived into the underbrush. pierre rose to his feet, and said slowly: "hilton, here may be trouble for you also. it is a tangled world." towards evening pierre sauntered to the house of ida's father. light of footstep, he came upon the girl suddenly. they had always been friends since the day when, at uncommon risk, he rescued her dog from a freshet on the wild moose river. she was sitting utterly still, her hands folded in her lap. he struck his foot smartly on the ground. she felt the vibration, and looked up. he doffed his hat, and she held out her hand. he smiled and took it, and, as it lay in his, looked at it for a moment musingly. she drew it back slowly. he was then thinking that it was the most intelligent hand he had ever seen. . . . he determined to play a bold and surprising game. he had learned from her the alphabet of the fingers--that is, how to spell words. he knew little gesture-language. he, therefore, spelled slowly: "hawley is angry, because you love hilton." the statement was so matter-of-fact, so sudden, that the girl had no chance. she flushed and then paled. she shook her head firmly, however, and her fingers slowly framed the reply: "you guess too much. foolish things come to the idle." "i saw you this afternoon," he silently urged. her fingers trembled slightly. "there was nothing to see." she knew he could not have read her gestures. "i was telling a story." "you ran from him--why?" his questioning was cruel that he might in the end be kind. "the child runs from its shadow, the bird from its nest, the fish jumps from the water--that is nothing." she had recovered somewhat. but he: "the shadow follows the child, the bird comes back to its nest, the fish cannot live beyond the water. but it is sad when the child, in running, rushes into darkness, and loses its shadow; when the nest falls from the tree; and the hawk catches the happy fish. . . . hawley saw you also." hawley, like ida, was deaf and dumb. he lived over the mountains, but came often. it had been understood that, one day, she should marry him. it seemed fitting. she had said neither yes nor no. and now? a quick tremor of trouble trailed over her face, then it became very still. her eyes were bent upon the ground steadily. presently a bird hopped near, its head coquetting at her. she ran her hand gently along the grass towards it. the bird tripped on it. she lifted it to her chin, at which it pecked tenderly. pierre watched her keenly-admiring, pitying. he wished to serve her. at last, with a kiss upon its head, she gave it a light toss into the air, and it soared, lark-like, straight up, and hanging over her head, sang the day into the evening. her eyes followed it. she could feel that it was singing. she smiled and lifted a finger lightly towards it. then she spelled to pierre this: "it is singing to me. we imperfect things love each other." "and what about loving hawley, then?" pierre persisted. she did not reply, but a strange look came upon her, and in the pause hilton came from the house and stood beside them. at this, pierre lighted a cigarette, and with a good-natured nod to hilton, walked away. hilton stooped over her, pale and eager. "ida," he gestured, "will you answer me now? will you be my wife?" she drew herself together with a little shiver. "no," was her steady reply. she ruled her face into stillness, so that it showed nothing of what she felt. she came to her feet wearily, and drawing down a cool flowering branch of chestnut, pressed it to her cheek. "you do not love me?" he asked nervously. "i am going to marry luke hawley," was her slow answer. she spelled the words. she used no gesture to that. the fact looked terribly hard and inflexible so. hilton was not a vain man, and he believed he was not loved. his heart crowded to his throat. "please go away, now," she begged with an anxious gesture. while the hand was extended, he reached and brought it to his lips, then quickly kissed her on the forehead, and walked away. she stood trembling, and as the fingers of one hand hung at her side, they spelled mechanically these words: "it would spoil his life. i am only a mute--a dummy!" as she stood so, she felt the approach of someone. she did not turn instantly, but with the aboriginal instinct, listened, as it were, with her body; but presently faced about--to hawley. he was red with anger. he had seen hilton kiss her. he caught her smartly by the arm, but, awed by the great calmness of her face, dropped it, and fell into a fit of sullenness. she spoke to him: he did not reply. she touched his arm: he still was gloomy. all at once the full price of her sacrifice rushed upon her; and overpowered her. she had no help at her critical hour, not even from this man she had intended to bless. there came a swift revulsion, all passions stormed in her at once. despair was the resultant of these forces. she swerved from him immediately, and ran hard towards the high-banked river! hawley did not follow her at once: he did not guess her purpose. she had almost reached the leaping-place, when pierre shot from the trees, and seized her. the impulse of this was so strong, that they slipped, and quivered on the precipitous edge: but pierre righted then, and presently they were safe. pierre held her hard by both wrists for a moment. then, drawing her away, he loosed her, and spelled these words slowly: "i understand. but you are wrong. hawley is not the man. you must come with me. it is foolish to die." the riot of her feelings, her momentary despair, were gone. it was even pleasant to be mastered by pierre's firmness. she was passive. mechanically she went with him. hawley approached. she looked at pierre. then she turned on the other. "yours is not the best love," she signed to him; "it does not trust; it is selfish." and she moved on. but, an hour later, hilton caught her to his bosom, and kissed her full on the lips. . . . and his right to do so continues to this day. a tragedy of nobodies at fort latrobe sentiment was not of the most refined kind. local customs were pronounced and crude in outline; language was often highly coloured, and action was occasionally accentuated by a pistol shot. for the first few months of its life the place was honoured by the presence of neither wife, nor sister, nor mother. yet women lived there. when some men did bring wives and children, it was noticed that the girl blanche was seldom seen in the streets. and, however it was, there grew among the men a faint respect for her. they did not talk of it to each other, but it existed. it was known that blanche resented even the most casual notice from those men who had wives and homes. she gave the impression that she had a remnant of conscience. "go home," she said to harry delong, who asked her to drink with him on new year's day. "go home, and thank god that you've got a home--and a wife." after jacques, the long-time friend of pretty pierre, came to fort latrobe, with his sulky eye and scrupulously neat attire, blanche appeared to withdraw still more from public gaze, though no one saw any connection between these events. the girl also became fastidious in her dress, and lost all her former dash and smart aggression of manner. she shrank from the women of her class, for which, as might be expected, she was duly reviled. but the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, nor has it been written that a woman may not close her ears, and bury herself in darkness, and travel alone in the desert with her people--those ghosts of herself, whose name is legion, and whose slow white fingers mock more than the world dare at its worst. suddenly, she was found behind the bar of weir's tavern at cedar point, the resort most frequented by jacques. word went about among the men that blanche was taking a turn at religion, or, otherwise, reformation. soldier joe was something sceptical on this point from the fact that she had developed a very uncertain temper. this appeared especially noticeable in her treatment of jacques. she made him the target for her sharpest sarcasm. though a peculiar glow came to his eyes at times, he was never roused from his exasperating coolness. when her shafts were unusually direct and biting, and the temptation to resent was keen, he merely shrugged his shoulders, almost gently, and said: "eh, such women!" nevertheless, there were men at fort latrobe who prophesied trouble, for they knew there was a deep strain of malice in the french half-breed which could be the more deadly because of its rare use. he was not easily moved, he viewed life from the heights of a philosophy which could separate the petty from the prodigious. his reputation was not wholly disquieting; he was of the goats, he had sometimes been found with the sheep, he preferred to be numbered with the transgressors. like pierre, his one passion was gambling. there were legends that once or twice in his life he had had another passion, but that some gorgon drew out his heartstrings painfully, one by one, and left him inhabited by a pale spirit now called irony, now indifference--under either name a fret and an anger to women. at last blanche's attacks on jacques called out anxious protests from men like rollicking soldier joe, who said to her one night, "blanche, there's a devil in jacques. some day you'll startle him, and then he'll shoot you as cool as he empties the pockets of freddy tarlton over there." and blanche replied: "when he does that, what will you do, joe?" "do? do?" the man stroked his beard softly. "why, give him ditto-cold." "well, then, there's nothing to row about, is there?" and soldier joe was not on the instant clever enough to answer her sophistry; but when she left him and he had thought awhile, he said, convincingly: "but where would you be then, blanche? . . . that's the point." one thing was known and certain: blanche was earning her living by honest, if not high-class, labour. weir the tavern-keeper said she was "worth hundreds" to him. but she grew pale, her eyes became peculiarly brilliant, her voice took a lower key, and lost a kind of hoarseness it had in the past. men came in at times merely to have a joke at her expense, having heard of her new life; but they failed to enjoy their own attempts at humour. women of her class came also, some with halfuncertain jibes, some with a curious wistfulness, and a few with scornful oaths; but the jibes and oaths were only for a time. it became known that she had paid the coach fare of miss dido (as she was called) to the hospital at wapiti, and had raised a subscription for her maintenance there, heading it herself with a liberal sum. then the atmosphere round her became less trying; yet her temper remained changeable, and had it not been that she was good-looking and witty, her position might have been insecure. as it was, she ruled in a neutral territory where she was the only woman. one night, after an inclement remark to jacques, in the card-room, blanche came back to the bar, and not noticing that, while she was gone, soldier joe had entered and laid himself down on a bench in a corner, she threw her head passionately forward on her arms as they rested on the counter, and cried: "o my god! my god!" soldier joe lay still as if sleeping, and when blanche was called away again he rose, stole out, went down to freddy tarlton's office, and offered to bet freddy two to one that blanche wouldn't live a year. joe's experience of women was limited. he had in his mind the case of a girl who had accidentally smothered her child; and so he said: "blanche has something on her mind that's killing her, freddy. when trouble fixes on her sort it kills swift and sure. they've nothing to live for but life, and it isn't good enough, you see, for--for--" joe paused to find out where his philosophy was taking him. freddy tarlton finished the sentence for him: "for an inner sorrow is a consuming fire." fort latrobe soon had an unexpected opportunity to study soldier joe's theory. one night jacques did not appear at weir's tavern as he had engaged to do, and soldier joe and another went across the frozen river to his log-hut to seek him. they found him by a handful of fire, breathing heavily and nearly unconscious. one of the sudden and frequently fatal colds of the mountains had fastened on him, and he had begun a war for life. joe started back at once for liquor and a doctor, leaving his comrade to watch by the sick man. he could not understand why blanche should stagger and grow white when he told her; nor why she insisted on taking the liquor herself. he did not yet guess the truth. the next day all fort latrobe knew that blanche was nursing jacques, on what was thought to be his no-return journey. the doctor said it was a dangerous case, and he held out little hope. nursing might bring him through, but the chance was very slight. blanche only occasionally left the sick man's bedside to be relieved by soldier joe and freddy tarlton. it dawned on joe at last, it had dawned on freddy before, what blanche meant by the heart-breaking words uttered that night in weir's tavern. down through the crust of this woman's heart had gone something both joyful and painful. whatever it was, it made blanche a saving nurse, a good apothecary; for, one night the doctor pronounced jacques out of danger, and said that a few days would bring him round if he was careful. now, for the first time, jacques fully comprehended all blanche had done for him, though he had ceased to wonder at her changed attitude to him. through his suffering and his delirium had come the understanding of it. when, after the crisis, the doctor turned away from the bed, jacques looked steadily into blanche's eyes, and she flushed, and wiped the wet from his brow with her handkerchief. he took the handkerchief from her fingers gently before soldier joe came over to the bed. the doctor had insisted that blanche should go to weir's tavern and get the night's rest, needed so much, and joe now pressed her to keep her promise. jacques added an urging word, and after a time she started. joe had forgotten to tell her that a new road had been made on the ice since she had crossed, and that the old road was dangerous. wandering with her thoughts she did not notice the spruce bushes set up for signal, until she had stepped on a thin piece of ice. it bent beneath her. she slipped: there was a sudden sinking, a sharp cry, then another, piercing and hopeless--and it was the one word--"jacques!" then the night was silent as before. but someone had heard the cry. freddy tarlton was crossing the ice also, and that desolating jacques! had reached his ears. when he found her he saw that she had been taken and the other left. but that other, asleep in his bed at the sacred moment when she parted, suddenly waked, and said to soldier joe: "did you speak, joe? did you call me?" but joe, who had been playing cards with himself, replied, "i haven't said a word." and jacques then added: "perhaps i dream--perhaps." on the advice of the doctor and freddy tarlton, the bad news was kept from jacques. when she did not come the next day, joe told him that she couldn't; that he ought to remember she had had no rest for weeks, and had earned a long rest. and jacques said that was so. weir began preparations for the funeral, but freddy tarlton took them out of his hands--freddy tarlton, who visited at the homes of fort latrobe. but he had the strength of his convictions such as they were. he began by riding thirty miles and back to ask the young clergyman at purple hill to come and bury blanche. she'd reformed and been baptised, freddy said with a sad sort of humour. and the clergyman, when he knew all, said that he would come. freddy was hardly prepared for what occurred when he got back. men were waiting for him, anxious to know if the clergyman was coming. they had raised a subscription to cover the cost of the funeral, and among them were men such as harry delong. "you fellows had better not mix yourselves up in this," said freddy. but harry delong replied quickly: "i am going to see the thing through." and the others endorsed his words. when the clergyman came, and looked at the face of this magdalene, he was struck by its comeliness and quiet. all else seemed to have been washed away. on her breast lay a knot of white roses--white roses in this winter desert. one man present, seeing the look of wonder in the clergyman's eyes, said quietly: "my--my wife sent them. she brought the plant from quebec. it has just bloomed. she knows all about her." that man was harry delong. the keeper of his home understood the other homeless woman. when she knew of blanche's death she said: "poor girl, poor girl!" and then she had gently added, "poor jacques!" and jacques, as he sat in a chair by the fire four days after the tragedy, did not know that the clergyman was reading over a grave on the hillside, words which are for the hearts of the quick as for the untenanted dead. to jacques's inquiries after blanche, soldier joe had made changing and vague replies. at last he said that she was ill; then, that she was very ill, and again, that she was better, almighty better--now. the third day following the funeral, jacques insisted that he would go and see her. the doctor at length decided he should be taken to weir's tavern, where, they declared, they would tell him all. and they took him, and placed him by the fire in the card-room, a wasted figure, but fastidious in manner and scrupulously neat in person as of old. then he asked for blanche; but even now they had not the courage for it. the doctor nervously went out, as if to seek her; and freddy tarlton said, "jacques, let us have a little game, just for quarters, you know. eh?" the other replied without eagerness: "voila, one game, then!" they drew him to the table, but he played listlessly. his eyes shifted ever to the door. luck was against him. finally he pushed over a silver piece, and said: "the last. my money is all gone. 'bien!'" he lost that too. just then the door opened, and a ranchman from purple hill entered. he looked carelessly round, and then said loudly: "say, joe, so you've buried blanche, have you? poor old girl!" there was a heavy silence. no one replied. jacques started to his feet, gazed around searchingly, painfully, and presently gave a great gasp. his hands made a chafing motion in the air, and then blood showed on his lips and chin. he drew a handkerchief from his breast. "pardon! . . . pardon!" he faintly cried in apology, and put it to his mouth. then he fell backwards in the arms of soldier joe, who wiped a moisture from the lifeless cheek as he laid the body on a bed. in a corner of the stained handkerchief they found the word, blanche. a sanctuary of the plains father corraine stood with his chin in his hand and one arm supporting the other, thinking deeply. his eyes were fixed on the northern horizon, along which the sun was casting oblique rays; for it was the beginning of the winter season. where the prairie touched the sun it was responsive and radiant; but on either side of this red and golden tapestry there was a tawny glow and then a duskiness which, curving round to the north and east, became blue and cold--an impalpable but perceptible barrier rising from the earth, and shutting in father corraine like a prison wall. and this shadow crept stealthily on and invaded the whole circle, until, where the radiance had been, there was one continuous wall of gloom, rising are upon are to invasion of the zenith, and pierced only by some intrusive wandering stars. and still the priest stood there looking, until the darkness closed down on him with an almost tangible consistency. then he appeared to remember himself, and turned away with a gentle remonstrance of his head, and entered the hut behind him. he lighted a lamp, looked at it doubtfully, blew it out, set it aside, and lighted a candle. this he set in the one window of the room which faced the north and west. he went to a door opening into the only other room in the hut, and with his hand on the latch looked thoughtfully and sorrowfully at something in the corner of the room where he stood. he was evidently debating upon some matter,--probably the removal of what was in the corner to the other room. if so, he finally decided to abandon the intention. he sat down in a chair, faced the candle, again dropped his chin upon his hand, and kept his eyes musingly on the light. he was silent and motionless a long time, then his lips moved, and he seemed to repeat something to himself in whispers. presently he took a well-worn book from his pocket, and read aloud from it softly what seemed to be an office of his church. his voice grew slightly louder as he continued, until, suddenly, there ran through the words a deep sigh which did not come from himself. he raised his head quickly, started to his feet, and turning round, looked at that something in the corner. it took the form of a human figure, which raised itself on an elbow and said: "water--water--for the love of god!" father corraine stood painfully staring at the figure for a moment, and then the words broke from him "not dead--not dead--wonderful!" then he stepped quickly to a table, took therefrom a pannikin of water, and kneeling, held it to the lips of the gasping figure of a woman, throwing his arm round the shoulder, and supporting the head on his breast. again he spoke "alive--alive! blessed be heaven!" the hands of the woman seized the hand of the priest, which held the pannikin, and kissed it, saying faintly: "you are good to me. . . . but i must sleep--i must sleep--i am so tired; and i've--very far--to go --across the world." this was said very slowly, then the head thick with brown curls dropped again on the priest's breast, heavy with sleep. father corraine, flushing slightly at first, became now slightly pale, and his brow was a place of war between thankfulness and perplexity. but he said something prayerfully, then closed his lips firmly, and gently laid the figure down, where it was immediately clothed about with slumber. then he rose, and standing with his eyes bent upon the sleeper and his fingers clasping each other tightly before him, said: "poor girl! so, she is alive. and now what will come of it?" he shook his grey head in doubt, and immediately began to prepare some simple food and refreshment for the sufferer when she should awake. in the midst of doing so he paused and repeated the words, "and what will come of it?" then he added: "there was no sign of pulse nor heart-beat when i found her. but life hides itself where man cannot reach it." having finished his task, he sat down, drew the book of holy offices again from his bosom, and read it, whisperingly, for a time; then fell to musing, and, after a considerable time, knelt down as if in prayer. while he knelt, the girl, as if startled from her sleep by some inner shock, opened her eyes wide and looked at him, first with bewilderment, then with anxiety, then with wistful thankfulness. "oh, i thought-i thought when i awoke before that it was a woman. but it is the good father corraine--corraine, yes, that was the name." the priest's clean-shaven face, long hair, and black cassock had, in her first moments of consciousness, deceived her. now a sharp pain brought a moan to her lips; and this drew the priest's attention. he rose, and brought her some food and drink. "my daughter," he said, "you must take these." something in her face touched his sensitive mind, and he said, solemnly: "you are alone with me and god, this hour. be at peace. eat." her eyes swam with instant tears. "i know--i am alone--with god," she said. again he gently urged the food upon her, and she took a little; but now and then she put her hand to her side as if in pain. and once, as she did so, she said: "i've far to go and the pain is bad. did they take him away?" father corraine shook his head. "i do not know of whom you speak," he replied. "when i went to my door this morning i found you lying there. i brought you in, and, finding no sign of life in you, sent featherfoot, my indian, to fort cypress for a trooper to come; for i feared that there had been ill done to you, somehow. this border-side is but a rough country. it is not always safe for a woman to travel alone." the girl shuddered. "father," she said "father corraine, i believe you are?" (here the priest bowed his head.) "i wish to tell you all, so that if ever any evil did come to me, if i should die without doin' what's in my heart to do, you would know, and would tell him if you ever saw him, how i remembered, and kept rememberin' him always, till my heart got sick with waitin', and i came to find him far across the seas." "tell me your tale, my child," he patiently said. her eyes were on the candle in the window questioningly. "it is for the trooper--to guide him," the other remarked. "'tis past time that he should be here. when you are able you can go with him to the fort. you will be better cared for there, and will be among women." "the man--the man who was kind to me--i wish i knew of him," she said. "i am waiting for your story, my child. speak of your trouble, whether it be of the mind and body, or of the soul." "you shall judge if it be of the soul," she answered. "i come from far away. i lived in old donegal since the day that i was born there, and i had a lover, as brave and true a lad as ever trod the world. but sorrow came. one night at farcalladen rise there was a crack of arms and a clatter of fleeing hoofs, and he that i loved came to me and said a quick word of partin', and with a kiss--it's burnin' on my lips yet--askin' pardon, father, for speech of this to you--and he was gone, an outlaw, to australia. for a time word came from him. then i was taken ill and couldn't answer his letters, and a cousin of my own, who had tried to win my love, did a wicked thing. he wrote a letter to him and told him i was dyin', and that there was no use of farther words from him. and never again did word come to me from him. but i waited, my heart sick with longin' and full of hate for the memory of the man who, when struck with death, told me of the cruel deed he had done between us two." she paused, as she had to do several times during the recital, through weariness or pain; but, after a moment, proceeded. "one day, one beautiful day, when the flowers were like love to the eye, and the larks singin' overhead, and my thoughts goin' with them as they swam until they were lost in the sky, and every one of them a prayer for the lad livin' yet, as i hoped, somewhere in god's universe--there rode a gentleman down farcalladen rise. he stopped me as i walked, and said a kind good-day to me; and i knew when i looked into his face that he had word for me--the whisperin' of some angel, i suppose, and i said to him as though he had asked me for it, 'my name is mary callen, sir.' "at that he started, and the colour came quick to his face; and he said: 'i am sir duke lawless. i come to look for mary callen's grave. is there a mary callen dead, and a mary callen livin'? and did both of them love a man that went from farcalladen rise one wild night long ago?' "'there's but one mary callen,' said i, 'but the heart of me is dead, until i hear news that brings it to life again?' "'and no man calls you wife?' he asked. "'no man, sir duke lawless,' answered i. 'and no man ever could, save him that used to write me of you from the heart of australia; only there was no sir to your name then.' "'i've come to that since,' said he. "'oh, tell me,' i cried, with a quiverin' at my heart, 'tell me, is he livin'?' "and he replied: 'i left him in the pipi valley of the rocky mountains a year ago.' "'a year ago!' said i, sadly. "'i'm ashamed that i've been so long in comin' here,' replied he; 'but, of course, he didn't know that you were alive, and i had been parted from a lady for years--a lover's quarrel--and i had to choose between courtin' her again and marryin' her, or comin' to farcalladen rise at once. well, i went to the altar first.' "'oh, sir, you've come with the speed of the wind, for now that i've news of him, it is only yesterday that he went away, not years agone. but tell me, does he ever think of me?' i questioned. "'he thinks of you,' he said, 'as one for whom the masses for the dead are spoken; but while i knew him, first and last, the memory of you was with him.' "with that he got off his horse, and said: 'i'll walk with you to his father's home.' "'you'll not do that,' i replied; 'for it's level with the ground. god punish them that did it! and they're lyin' in the glen by the stream that he loved and galloped over many a time.' "'they are dead--they are dead, then,' said he, with his bridle swung loose on his arm and his hat off reverently. "'gone home to heaven together,' said i, 'one day and one hour, and a prayer on their lips for the lad; and i closin' their eyes at the last. and before they went they made me sit by them and sing a song that's common here with us; for manny and manny of the strength and pride of farcalladen rise have sailed the wide seas north and south, and otherwhere, and comin' back maybe and maybe not.' "'hark,' he said, very gravely, 'and i'll tell you what it is, for i've heard him sing it, i know, in the worst days and the best days that ever we had, when luck was wicked and big against us and we starvin' on the wallaby track; or when we found the turn in the lane to brighter days.' "and then with me lookin' at him full in the eyes, gentleman though he was,--for comrade he had been with the man i loved,--he said to me there, so finely and kindly, it ought to have brought the dead back from their graves to hear, these words: "'you'll travel far and wide, dear, but you'll come back again, you'll come back to your father and your mother in the glen, although we should be lyin' 'neath the heather grasses then you'll be comin' back, my darlin'!' "'you'll see the icebergs sailin' along the wintry foam, the white hair of the breakers, and the wild swans as they roam; but you'll not forget the rowan beside your father's home- you'll be comin' back, my darlin'.'" here the girl paused longer than usual, and the priest dropped his forehead in his hand sadly. "i've brought grief to your kind heart, father," she said. "no, no," he replied, "not sorrow at all; but i was born on the liffey side, though it's forty years and more since i left it, and i'm an old man now. that song i knew well, and the truth and the heart of it too. . . . i am listening." "well, together we went to the grave of the father and mother, and the place where the home had been, and for a long time he was silent, as though they who slept beneath the sod were his, and not another's; but at last he said: "'and what will you do? i don't quite know where he is, though; when last i heard from him and his comrades, they were in the pipi valley.' "my heart was full of joy; for though i saw how touched he was because of what he saw, it was all common to my sight, and i had grieved much, but had had little delight; and i said: "'there's only one thing to be done. he cannot come back here, and i must go to him--that is,' said i, 'if you think he cares for me still, --for my heart quakes at the thought that he might have changed.' "'i know his heart,' said he, 'and you'll find him, i doubt not, the same, though he buried you long ago in a lonely tomb,--the tomb of a sweet remembrance, where the flowers are everlastin'.' then after more words he offered me money with which to go; but i said to him that the love that couldn't carry itself across the sea by the strength of the hands and the sweat of the brow was no love at all; and that the harder was the road to him the gladder i'd be, so that it didn't keep me too long, and brought me to him at last. "he looked me up and down very earnestly for a minute, and then he said: 'what is there under the roof of heaven like the love of an honest woman! it makes the world worth livin' in.' "'yes,' said i, 'when love has hope, and a place to lay its head.' "'take this,' said he--and he drew from his pocket his watch--'and carry it to him with the regard of duke lawless, and this for yourself'-fetching from his pocket a revolver and putting it into my hands; 'for the prairies are but rough places after all, and it's better to be safe than--worried. . . . never fear though but the prairies will bring back the finest of blooms to your cheek, if fair enough it is now, and flush his eye with pride of you; and god be with you both, if a sinner may say that, and breakin' no saint's prerogative.' and he mounted to ride away, havin' shaken my hand like a brother; but he turned again before he went, and said: 'tell him and his comrades that i'll shoulder my gun and join them before the world is a year older, if i can. for that land is god's land, and its people are my people, and i care not who knows it, whatever here i be.' "i worked my way across the sea, and stayed awhile in the east earning money to carry me over the land and into the pipi valley. i joined a party of emigrants that were goin' westward, and travelled far with them. but they quarrelled and separated, i goin' with these that i liked best. one night though, i took my horse and left; for i knew there was evil in the heart of a man who sought me continually, and the thing drove me mad. i rode until my horse could stumble no farther, and then i took the saddle for a pillow and slept on the bare ground. and in the morning i got up and rode on, seein' no house nor human being for manny and manny a mile. when everything seemed hopeless i came suddenly upon a camp. but i saw that there was only one man there, and i should have turned back, but that i was worn and ill, and, moreover, i had ridden almost upon him. but he was kind. he shared his food with me, and asked me where i was goin'. i told him, and also that i had quarrelled with those of my party and had left them nothing more. he seemed to wonder that i was goin' to pipi valley; and when i had finished my tale he said: 'well, i must tell you that i am not good company for you. i have a name that doesn't pass at par up here. to speak plain truth, troopers are looking for me, and --strange as it may be--for a crime which i didn't commit. that is the foolishness of the law. but for this i'm making for the american border, beyond which, treaty or no treaty, a man gets refuge.' "he was silent after that, lookin' at me thoughtfully the while, but in a way that told me i might trust him, evil though he called himself. at length he said: 'i know a good priest, father corraine, who has a cabin sixty miles or more from here, and i'll guide you to him, if so be you can trust a half-breed and a gambler, and one men call an outlaw. if not, i'm feared it'll go hard with you; for the cypress hills are not easy travel, as i've known this many a year. and should you want a name to call me, pretty pierre will do, though my godfathers and godmothers did different for me before they went to heaven.' and nothing said he irreverently, father." here the priest looked up and answered: "yes, yes, i know him well--an evil man, and yet he has suffered too . . . well, well, my daughter?" "at that he took his pistol from his pocket and handed it. 'take that,' he said. 'it will make you safer with me, and i'll ride ahead of you, and we shall reach there by sundown, i hope.' "and i would not take his pistol, but, shamed a little, showed him the one sir duke lawless gave me. 'that's right,' he said, 'and, maybe, it's better that i should carry mine, for, as i said, there are anxious gentlemen lookin' for me, who wish to give me a quiet but dreary home. and see,' he added, 'if they should come you will be safe, for they sit in the judgment seat, and the statutes hang at their saddles, and i'll say this for them, that a woman to them is as a saint of god out here where women and saints are few.' "i do not speak as he spoke, for his words had a turn of french; but i knew that, whatever he was, i should travel peaceably with him. yet i saw that he would be runnin' the risk of his own safety for me, and i told him that i could not have him do it; but he talked me lightly down, and we started. we had gone but a little distance, when there galloped over a ridge upon us, two men of the party i had left, and one, i saw, was the man i hated; and i cried out and told pretty pierre. he wheeled his horse, and held his pistol by him. they said that i should come with them, and they told a dreadful lie--that i was a runaway wife; but pierre answered them they lied. at this, one rode forward suddenly, and clutched me at my waist to drag me from my horse. at this, pierre's pistol was thrust in his face, and pierre bade him cease, which he did; but the other came down with a pistol showin', and pierre, seein' they were determined, fired; and the man that clutched at me fell from his horse. then the other drew off; and pierre got down, and stooped, and felt the man's heart, and said to the other: 'take your friend away, for he is dead; but drop that pistol of yours on the ground first.' and the man did so; and pierre, as he looked at the dead man, added: 'why did he make me kill him?' "then the two tied the body to the horse, and the man rode away with it. we travelled on without speakin' for a long time, and then i heard him say absently: 'i am sick of that. when once you have played shuttlecock with human life, you have to play it to the end--that is the penalty. but a woman is a woman, and she must be protected.' then afterward he turned and asked me if i had friends in pipi valley; and because what he had done for me had worked upon me, i told him of the man i was goin' to find. and he started in his saddle, and i could see by the way he twisted the mouth of his horse that i had stirred him." here the priest interposed: "what is the name of the man in pipi valley to whom you are going?" and the girl replied: "ah, father, have i not told you? it is shon mcgann--of farcalladen rise." at this, father corraine seemed suddenly troubled, and he looked strangely and sadly at her. but the girl's eyes were fastened on the candle in the window, as if she saw her story in it; and she continued: "a colour spread upon him, and then left him pale; and he said: 'to shon mcgann--you are going to him? think of that--that!' for an instant i thought a horrible smile played upon his face, and i grew frightened, and said to him: 'you know him. you are not sorry that you are helping me? you and shon mcgann are not enemies?' "after a moment the smile that struck me with dread passed, and he said, as he drew himself up with a shake: 'shon mcgann and i were good friendsas good as ever shared a blanket or split a loaf, though he was free of any evil, and i failed of any good.... well, there came a change. we parted. we could meet no more; but who could have guessed this thing? yet, hear me--i am no enemy of shon mcgann, as let my deeds to you prove.' and he paused again, but added presently: 'it's better you should have come now than two years ago. "and i had a fear in my heart, and to this asked him why. 'because then he was a friend of mine,' he said, 'and ill always comes to those who are such.' i was troubled at this, and asked him if shon was in pipi valley yet. 'i do not know,' said he, 'for i've travelled long and far from there; still, while i do not wish to put doubt into your mind, i have a thought he may be gone. . . . he had a gay heart,' he continued, 'and we saw brave days together.' "and though i questioned him, he told me little more, but became silent, scannin' the plains as we rode; but once or twice he looked at me in a strange fashion, and passed his hand across his forehead, and a grey look came upon his face. i asked him if he was not well. 'only a kind of fightin' within,' he said; 'such things soon pass, and it is well they do, or we should break to pieces.' "and i said again that i wished not to bring him into danger. and he replied that these matters were accordin' to fate; that men like him must go on when once the die is cast, for they cannot turn back. it seemed to me a bitter creed, and i was sorry for him. then for hours we kept an almost steady silence, and comin' at last to the top of a rise of land he pointed to a spot far off on the plains, and said that you, father, lived there; and that he would go with me still a little way, and then leave me. i urged him to go at once, but he would not, and we came down into the plains. he had not ridden far when he said sharply: "'the riders of the plains, those gentlemen who seek me, are there--see! ride on or stay, which you please. if you go you will reach the priest, if you stay here where i shall leave you, you will see me taken perhaps, and it may be fightin' or death; but you will be safe with them. on the whole, it is best, perhaps, that you should ride away to the priest. they might not believe all that you told them, ridin' with me as you are.' "but i think a sudden madness again came upon me. rememberin' what things were done by women for refugees in old donegal, and that this man had risked his life for me, i swung my horse round nose and nose with his, and drew my revolver, and said that i should see whatever came to him. he prayed me not to do so wild a thing; but when i refused, and pushed on along with him, makin' at an angle for some wooded hills, i saw that a smile played upon his face. we had almost reached the edge of the wood when a bullet whistled by us. at that the smile passed and a strange look came upon him, and he said to me: "'this must end here. i think you guess i have no coward's blood; but i am sick to the teeth of fightin'. i do not wish to shock you, but i swear, unless you turn and ride away to the left towards the priest's house, i shall save those fellows further trouble by killin' myself here; and there,' said he, 'would be a pleasant place to die--at the feet of a woman who trusted you.' "i knew by the look in his eye he would keep his word. "'oh, is this so?' i said. "'it is so,' he replied, 'and it shall be done quickly, for the courage to death is on me.' "'but if i go, you will still try to escape?' i said. and he answered that he would. then i spoke a god-bless-you, at which he smiled and shook his head, and leanin' over, touched my hand, and spoke low: 'when you see shon mcgann, tell him what i did, and say that we are even now. say also that you called heaven to bless me.' then we swung away from each other, and the troopers followed after him, but let me go my way; from which, i guessed, they saw i was a woman. and as i rode i heard shots, and turned to see; but my horse stumbled on a hole and we fell together, and when i waked, i saw that the poor beast's legs were broken. so i ended its misery, and made my way as best i could by the stars to your house; but i turned sick and fainted at the door, and knew no more until this hour. . . . you thought me dead, father?" the priest bowed his head, and said: "these are strange, sad things, my child; and they shall seem stranger to you when you hear all." "when i hear all! ah, tell me, father, do you know shon mcgann? can you take me to him?" "i know him, but i do not know where he is. he left the pipi valley eighteen months ago, and i never saw him afterwards; still i doubt not he is somewhere on the plains, and we shall find him--we shall find him, please heaven." "is he a good lad, father?" "he is brave, and he was always kind. he came to me before he left the valley--for he had trouble--and said to me: 'father, i am going away, and to what place is far from me to know, but wherever it is, i'll live a life that's fit for men, and not like a loafer on god's world;' and he gave me money for masses to be said--for the dead." the girl put out her hand. "hush! hush!" she said. "let me think. masses for the dead.... what dead? not for me; he thought me dead long, long ago." "no; not for you," was the slow reply. she noticed his hesitation, and said: "speak. i know that there is sorrow on him. someone--someone--he loved?" "someone he loved," was the reply. "and she died?" the priest bowed his head. "she was his wife--shon's wife?" and mary callen could not hide from her words the hurt she felt. "i married her to him, but yet she was not his wife." there was a keen distress in the girl's voice. "father, tell me, tell me what you mean." "hush, and i will tell you all. he married her, thinking, and she thinking, that she was a widowed woman. but her husband came back. a terrible thing happened. the woman believing, at a painful time, that he who came back was about to take shon's life, fired at him, and wounded him, and then killed herself." mary callen raised herself upon her elbow, and looked at the priest in piteous bewilderment. "it is dreadful," she said. . . . "poor woman! . . . and he had forgotten--forgotten me. i was dead to him, and am dead to him now. there's nothing left but to draw the cold sheet of the grave over me. better for me if i had never come--if i had never come, and instead were lyin' by his father and mother beneath the rowan." the priest took her wrist firmly in his. "these are not brave nor christian words, from a brave and christian girl. but i know that grief makes one's words wild. shon mcgann shall be found. in the days when i saw him most and best, he talked of you as an angel gone, and he had never sought another woman had he known that you lived. the mounted police, the riders of the plains, travel far and wide. but now, there has come from the farther west a new detachment to fort cypress, and they may be able to help us. but listen. there is something more. the man pretty pierre, did he not speak puzzling words concerning himself and shon mcgann? and did he not say to you at the last that they were even now? well, can you not guess?" mary callen's bosom heaved painfully and her eyes stared so at the candle in the window that they seemed to grow one with the flame. at last a new look crept into them; a thought made the lids close quickly as though it burned them. when they opened again they were full of tears that shone in the shadow and dropped slowly on her cheeks and flowed on and on, quivering too in her throat. the priest said: "you understand, my child?" and she answered: "i understand. pierre, the outlaw, was her husband." father corraine rose and sat beside the table, his book of offices open before him. at length he said: "there is much that might be spoken; for the church has words for every hour of man's life, whatever it be; but there comes to me now a word to say, neither from prayer nor psalm, but from the songs of a country where good women are; where however poor the fireside, the loves beside it are born of the love of god, though the tongue be angry now and then, the foot stumble, and the hand quick at a blow." then, with a soft, ringing voice, he repeated: "'new friends will clasp your hand, dear, new faces on you smile- you'll bide with them and love them, but you'll long for us the while; for the word across the water, and the farewell by the stile- for the true heart's here, my darlin'.'" mary callen's tears flowed afresh at first; but soon after the voice ceased she closed her eyes and her sobs stopped, and father corraine sat down and became lost in thought as he watched the candle. then there went a word among the spirits watching that he was not thinking of the candle, or of them that the candle was to light on the way, nor even of this girl near him, but of a summer forty years gone when he was a goodly youth, with the red on his lip and the light in his eye, and before him, leaning on a stile, was a lass with- " . . . cheeks like the dawn of day." and all the good world swam in circles, eddying ever inward until it streamed intensely and joyously through her eyes "blue as the fairy flax." and he had carried the remembrance of this away into the world with him, but had never gone back again. he had travelled beyond the seas to live among savages and wear out his life in self-denial; and now he had come to the evening of his life, a benignant figure in a lonely land. and as he sat here murmuring mechanically bits of an office, his heart and mind were with a sacred and distant past. yet the spirits recorded both these things on their tablets, as though both were worthy of their remembrance. he did not know that he kept repeating two sentences over and over to himself: "'quoniam ipse liberavit me de laqueo venantium et a verbo aspero. quoniam angelis suis mandavit de te: ut custodiant te in omnibus viis tuis.'" these he said at first softly to himself, but unconsciously his voice became louder, so that the girl heard, and she said: "father corraine, what are those words? i do not understand them, but they sound comforting." and he, waking from his dream, changed the latin into english, and said: "'for he hath delivered me from the snare of the hunter, and from the sharp sword. for he hath given his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.'" "the words are good," she said. he then told her he was going out, but that he should be within call, saying, at the same time, that someone would no doubt arrive from fort cypress soon: and he went from the house. then the girl rose slowly, crept lamely to a chair and sat down. outside, the priest paced up and down, stopping now and then, and listening as if for horses' hoofs. at last he walked some distance away from the house, deeply lost in thought, and he did not notice that a man came slowly, heavily, to the door of the hut, and opening it, entered. mary callen rose from her seat with a cry in which was timidity, pity, and something of horror; for it was pretty pierre. she recoiled, but seeing how he swayed with weakness, and that his clothes had blood upon them, she helped him to a chair. he looked up at her with an enigmatical smile, but he did not speak. "oh," she whispered, "you are wounded!" he nodded; but still he did not speak. then his lips moved dryly. she brought him water. he drank deeply, and a sigh of relief escaped him. "you got here safely," he now said. "i am glad of that--though you, too, are hurt." she briefly told him how, and then he said: "well, i suppose you know all of me now?" "i know what happened in pipi valley," she said, timidly and wearily. "father corraine told me." "where is he?" when she had answered him, he said: "and you are willing to speak with me still?" "you saved me," was her brief, convincing reply. "how did you escape? did you fight?" "no," he said. "it is strange. i did not fight at all. as i said to you, i was sick of blood. these men were only doing their duty. i might have killed two or three of them, and have escaped, but to what good? when they shot my horse, my good sacrament,--and put a bullet into this shoulder, i crawled away still, and led them a dance, and doubled on them; and here i am." "it is wonderful that they have not been here," she said. "yes, it is wonderful; but be very sure they will be with that candle in the window. why is it there?" she told him. he lifted his brows in stoic irony, and said: "well, we shall have an army of them soon." he rose again to his feet. "i do not wish to die, and i always said that i would never go to prison. do you understand?" "yes," she replied. she went immediately to the window, took the candle from it, and put it behind an improvised shade. no sooner was this done than father corraine entered the room, and seeing the outlaw, said "you have come here, pierre?" and his face showed wonder and anxiety. "i have come, mon pere, for sanctuary." "for sanctuary! but, my son, if i vex not heaven by calling you so, why"--he saw pierre stagger slightly. "but you are wounded." he put his arm round the other's shoulder, and supported him till he recovered himself. then he set to work to bandage anew the wound, from which pierre himself had not unskilfully extracted the bullet. while doing so, the outlaw said to him: "father corraine, i am hunted like a coyote for a crime i did not commit. but if i am arrested they will no doubt charge me with other things-ancient things. well, i have said that i should never be sent to gaol, and i never shall; but i do not wish to die at this moment, and i do not wish to fight. what is there left?" "how do you come here, pierre?" he lifted his eyes heavily to mary callen, and she told father corraine what had been told her. when she had finished, pierre added: "i am no coward, as you will witness; but as i said, neither gaol nor death do i wish. well, if they should come here, and you said, pierre is not here, even though i was in the next room, they would believe you, and they would not search. well, i ask such sanctuary." the priest recoiled and raised his hand in protest. then, after a moment, he said: "how do you deserve this? do you know what you ask?" "ah, oui, i know it is immense, and i deserve nothing: and in return i can offer nothing, not even that i will repent. and i have done no good in the world; but still perhaps i am worth the saving, as may be seen in the end. as for you, well, you will do a little wrong so that the end will be right. so?" the priest's eyes looked out long and sadly at the man from under his venerable brows, as though he would see through him and beyond him to that end; and at last he spoke in a low, firm voice: "pierre, you have been a bad man; but sometimes you have been generous, and of a few good acts i know--" "no, not good," the other interrupted. "i ask this of your charity." "there is the law, and my conscience." "the law! the law!" and there was sharp satire in the half-breed's voice. "what has it done in the west? think, 'mon pere!' do you not know a hundred cases where the law has dealt foully? there was more justice before we had law. law--" and he named over swiftly, scornfully, a score of names and incidents, to which father corraine listened intently. "but," said pierre, gently, at last, "but for your conscience, m'sieu', that is greater than law. for you are a good man and a wise man; and you know that i shall pay my debts of every kind some sure day. that should satisfy your justice, but you are merciful for the moment, and you will spare until the time be come, until the corn is ripe in the ear. why should i plead? it is foolish. still, it is my whim, of which, perhaps, i shall be sorry tomorrow . . . hark!" he added, and then shrugged his shoulders and smiled. there were sounds of hoof beats coming faintly to them. father corraine threw open the door of the other room of the hut, and said "go in there--pierre. we shall see . . . we shall see." the outlaw looked at the priest, as if hesitating; but, after, nodded meaningly to himself, and entered the room and shut the door. the priest stood listening. when the hoof-beats stopped, he opened the door, and went out. in the dark he could see that men were dismounting from their horses. he stood still and waited. presently a trooper stepped forward and said warmly, yet brusquely, as became his office: "father corraine, we meet again!" the priest's face was overswept by many expressions, in which marvel and trouble were uppermost, while joy was in less distinctness. "surely," he said, "it is shon mcgann." "shon mcgann, and no other.--i that laughed at the law for many a year, though never breaking it beyond repair,--took your advice, father corraine, and here i am, holding that law now as my bosom friend at the saddle's pommel. corporal shon mcgann, at your service." they clasped hands, and the priest said: "you have come at my call from fort cypress?" "yes. but not these others. they are after a man that's played ducks and drakes with the statutes--heaven be merciful to him, i say. for there's naught i treasure against him; the will of god bein' in it all, with some doin' of the devil, too, maybe." pretty pierre, standing with ear to the window of the dark room, heard all this, and he pressed his upper lip hard with his forefinger, as if something disturbed him. shon continued. "i'm glad i wasn't sent after him as all these here know; for it's little i'd like to clap irons on his wrists, or whistle him to come to me with a winchester or a navy. so i'm here on my business, and they're here on theirs. though we come together it's because we met each other hereaway. they've a thought that, maybe, pretty pierre has taken refuge with you. they'll little like to disturb you, i know. but with dead in your house, and you givin' the word of truth, which none other could fall from your lips, they'll go on their way to look elsewhere." the priest's face was pinched, and there was a wrench at his heart. he turned to the others. a trooper stepped forward. "father corraine," he said, "it is my duty to search your house; but not a foot will i stretch across your threshold if you say no, and give the word that the man is not with you." "corporal mcgann," said the priest, "the woman whom i thought was dead did not die, as you shall see. there is no need for inquiry. but she will go with you to fort cypress. as for the other, you say that father corraine's threshold is his own, and at his own command. his home is now a sanctuary--for the afflicted." he went towards the door. as he did so, mary callen, who had been listening inside the room with shaking frame and bursting heart, dropped on her knees beside the table, her head in her arms. the door opened. "see," said the priest, "a woman who is injured and suffering." "ah," rejoined the trooper, "perhaps it is the woman who was riding with the half-breed. we found her dead horse." the priest nodded. shon mcgann looked at the crouching figure by the table pityingly. as he looked he was stirred, he knew not why. and she, though she did not look, knew that his gaze was on her; and all her will was spent in holding her eyes from his face, and from crying out to him. "and pretty pierre," said the trooper, "is not here with her?" there was an unfathomable sadness in the priest's eyes, as, with a slight motion of the hand towards the room, he said: "you see--he is not here." the trooper and his men immediately mounted; but one of them, young tim kearney, slid from his horse, and came and dropped on his knee in front of the priest. "it's many a day," he said, "since before god or man i bent a knee--more shame to me for that, and for mad days gone; but i care not who knows it, i want a word of blessin' from the man that's been out here like a saint in the wilderness, with a heart like the son o' god." the priest looked at the man at first as if scarce comprehending this act so familiar to him, then he slowly stretched out his hand, said some words in benediction, and made the sacred gesture. but his face had a strange and absent look, and he held the hand poised, even when the man had risen and mounted his horse. one by one the troopers rode through the faint belt of light that stretched from the door, and were lost in the darkness, the thud of their horses' hoofs echoing behind them. but a change had come over corporal shon mcgann. he looked at father corraine with concern and perplexity. he alone of those who were there had caught the unreal note in the proceedings. his eyes were bent on the darkness into which the men had gone, and his fingers toyed for an instant with his whistle; but he said a hard word of himself under his breath, and turned to meet father corraine's hand upon his arm. "shon mcgann," the priest said, "i have words to say to you concerning this poor girl," "you wish to have her taken to the fort, i suppose? what was she doing with pretty pierre?" "i wish her taken to her home." "where is her home, father?" and his eyes were cast with trouble on the girl, though he could assign no cause for that. "her home, shon,"--the priest's voice was very gentle--"her home was where they sing such words as these of a wanderer: "'you'll hear the wild birds singin' beneath a brighter sky,' the roof-tree of your home, dear, it will be grand and high; but you'll hunger for the hearthstone where a child you used to lie, you'll be comin' back, my darlin'."' during these words shon's face ran white, then red; and now he stepped inside the door like one in a dream, and the girl's face was lifted to his as though he had called her. "mary--mary callen!" he cried. his arms spread out, then dropped to his side, and he fell on his knees by the table facing her, and looked at her with love and horror warring in his face; for the remembrance that she had been with pierre was like the hand of the grave upon him. moving not at all, she looked at him, a numb despondency in her face. suddenly shon's look grew stern, and he was about to rise; but father corraine put a hand on his shoulder, and said: "stay where you are, man--on your knees. there is your place just now. be not so quick to judge, and remember your own sins before you charge others without knowledge. listen now to me." and he spoke mary callen's tale as he knew it, and as she had given it to him, not forgetting to mention that she had been told the thing which had occurred in pipi valley. the heroic devotion of this woman, and pretty pierre's act of friendship to her, together with the swift panorama of his past across the seas, awoke the whole man in shon, as the staunch life that he had lately led rendered it possible. there was a grave, kind look upon his face when he rose at the ending of the tale, and came to her, saying: "mary, it is i who need forgiveness. will you come now to the home you wanted?" and he stretched his arms to her. . . . an hour after, as the three sat there, the door of the other room opened, and pretty pierre came out silently, and was about to pass from the hut; but the priest put a hand on his arm, and said: "'where do you go, pierre?" pierre shrugged his shoulder slightly: "i do not know. 'mon dieu!'--that i have put this upon you!--you that never spoke but the truth." "you have made my sin of no avail," the priest replied; and he motioned towards shon mcgann, who was now risen to his feet, mary clinging to his arm. "father corraine," said shon, "it is my duty to arrest this man; but i cannot do it, would not do it, if he came and offered his arms for the steel. i'll take the wrong of this now, sir, and such shame as there is in that falsehood on my shoulders. and she here and i, and this man too, i doubt not, will carry your sin--as you call it--to our graves, without shame." father corraine shook his head sadly, and made no reply, for his soul was heavy. he motioned them all to sit down. and they sat there by the light of a flickering candle, with the door bolted and a cassock hung across the window, lest by any chance this uncommon thing should be seen. but the priest remained in a shadowed corner, with a little book in his hand, and he was long on his knees. and when morning came they had neither slept nor changed the fashion of their watch, save for a moment now and then, when pierre suffered from the pain of his wound, and silently passed up and down the little room. the morning was half gone when shon mcgann and mary callen stood beside their horses, ready to mount and go; for mary had persisted that she could travel--joy makes such marvellous healing. when the moment of parting came, pierre was not there. mary whispered to her lover concerning this. the priest went to the door of the but and called him. he came out slowly. "pierre," said shon, "there's a word to be said between us that had best be spoken now, though it's not aisy. it's little you or i will care to meet again in this world. there's been credit given and debts paid by both of us since the hour when we first met; and it needs thinking to tell which is the debtor now, for deeds are hard to reckon; but, before god, i believe it's meself;" and he turned and looked fondly at mary callen. and pierre replied: "shon mcgann, i make no reckoning close; but we will square all accounts here, as you say, and for the last time; for never again shall we meet, if it's within my will or doing. but i say i am the debtor; and if i pay not here, there will come a time!" and he caught his shoulder as it shrunk in pain of his wound. he tapped the wound lightly, and said with irony: "this is my note of hand for my debt, shon mcgann. eh, bien!" then he tossed his fingers indolently towards shon, and turning his eyes slowly to mary callen, raised his hat in good-bye. she put out her hand impulsively to him, but pierre, shaking his head, looked away. shon put his hand gently on her arm. "no, no," he said in a whisper, "there can be no touch of hands between us." and pierre, looking up, added: "c'est vrai. that is the truth. you go-home. i got to hide. so--so." and he turned and went into the hut. the others set their faces northward, and father corraine walked beside mary callen's horse, talking quietly of their future life, and speaking, as he would never speak again, of days in that green land of their birth. at length, upon a dividing swell of the prairie, he paused to say farewell. many times the two turned to see, and he was there, looking after them; his forehead bared to the clear inspiring wind, his grey hair blown back, his hands clasped. before descending the trough of a great landwave, they turned for the last time, and saw him standing motionless, the one solitary being in all their wide horizon. but outside the line of vision there sat a man in a prairie hut, whose eyes travelled over the valley of blue sky stretching away beyond the morning, whose face was pale and cold. for hours he sat unmoving, and when, at last, someone gently touched him on the shoulder, he only shook his head, and went on thinking. he was busy with the grim ledger of his life. etext editor's bookmarks: an inner sorrow is a consuming fire philosophy which could separate the petty from the prodigious remember your own sins before you charge others this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] a romany of the snows being a continuation of the personal histories of "pierre and his people" and the last existing records of pretty pierre by gilbert parker volume 5. the cruise of the "ninety-nine" a romany of the snows the plunderer the cruise of the "ninety-nine" i. the search she was only a big gulf yawl, which a man and a boy could manage at a pinch, with old-fashioned high bulwarks, but lying clean in the water. she had a tolerable record for speed, and for other things so important that they were now and again considered by the government at quebec. she was called the ninety-nine. with a sense of humour the cure had called her so, after an interview with her owner and captain, tarboe the smuggler. when he said to tarboe at angel point that he had come to seek the one sheep that was lost, leaving behind him the other ninety-and-nine within the fold at isle of days, tarboe had replied that it was a mistake--he was the ninety-nine, for he needed no repentance, and immediately offered the cure some old brown brandy of fine flavour. they both had a whimsical turn, and the cure did not ask tarboe how he came by such perfect liquor. many high in authority, it was said, had been soothed even to the winking of an eye when they ought to have sent a nordenfeldt against the ninety-nine. the day after the cure left angel point he spoke of tarboe and his craft as the ninety-and-nine; and tarboe hearing of this--for somehow he heard everything--immediately painted out the old name, and called her the ninety-nine, saying that she had been so blessed by the cure. afterwards the ninety-nine had an increasing reputation for exploit and daring. in brief, tarboe and his craft were smugglers, and to have trusted gossip would have been to say that the boat was as guilty as the man. their names were much more notorious than sweet; and yet in quebec men laughed as they shrugged their shoulders at them; for as many jovial things as evil were told of tarboe. when it became known that a dignitary of the church had been given a case of splendid wine, which had come in a roundabout way to him, men waked in the night and laughed, to the annoyance of their wives; for the same dignitary had preached a powerful sermon against smugglers and the receivers of stolen goods. it was a sad thing for monsignor to be called a ninety-niner, as were all good friends of tarboe, high and low. but when he came to know, after the wine had been leisurely drunk and becomingly praised, he brought his influence to bear in civic places, so that there was nothing left to do but to corner tarboe at last. it was in the height of summer, when there was little to think of in the old fortressed city, and a dart after a brigand appealed to the romantic natures of the idle french folk, common and gentle. through clouds of rank tobacco smoke, and in the wash of their bean soup, the habitants discussed the fate of "black tarboe," and officers of the garrison and idle ladies gossiped at the citadel and at murray bay of the freebooting gentlemen, whose ninety-nine had furnished forth many a table in the great walled city. but black tarboe himself was down at anticosti, waiting for a certain merchantman. passing vessels saw the ninety-nine anchored in an open bay, flying its flag flippantly before the world--a rag of black sheepskin, with the wool on, in profane keeping with its name. there was no attempt at hiding, no skulking behind a point, or scurrying from observation, but an indolent and insolent waiting--for something. "black tarboe's getting reckless," said one captain coming in, and another, going out, grinned as he remembered the talk at quebec, and thought of the sport provided for the ninety-nine when she should come up stream; as she must in due time, for tarboe's home was on the isle of days, and was he not fond and proud of his daughter joan to a point of folly? he was not alone in his admiration of joan, for the cure at isle of days said high things of her. perhaps this was because she was unlike most other girls, and women too, in that she had a sense of humour, got from having mixed with choice spirits who visited her father and carried out at angel point a kind of freemasonry, which had few rites and many charges and countercharges. she had that almost impossible gift in a woman--the power of telling a tale whimsically. it was said that once, when orvay lafarge, a new inspector of customs, came to spy out the land, she kept him so amused by her quaint wit, that he sat in the doorway gossiping with her, while tarboe and two others unloaded and safely hid away a cargo of liquors from the ninety-nine. and one of the men, as cheerful as joan herself, undertook to carry a little keg of brandy into the house, under the very nose of the young inspector, who had sought to mark his appointment by the detection and arrest of tarboe single-handed. he had never met tarboe or tarboe's daughter when he made his boast. if his superiors had known that loco bissonnette, tarboe's jovial lieutenant, had carried the keg of brandy into the house in a water-pail, not fifteen feet from where lafarge sat with joan, they might have asked for his resignation. true, the thing was cleverly done, for bissonnette made the water spill quite naturally against his leg, and when he turned to joan and said in a crusty way that he didn't care if he spilled all the water in the pail, he looked so like an unwilling water-carrier that joan for one little moment did not guess. when she understood, she laughed till the tears came to her eyes, and presently, because lafarge seemed hurt, gave him to understand that he was upon his honour if she told him what it was. he consenting, she, still laughing, asked him into the house, and then drew the keg from the pail, before his eyes, and, tapping it, gave him some liquor, which he accepted without churlishness. he found nothing in this to lessen her in his eyes, for he knew that women have no civic virtues. he drank to their better acquaintance with few compunctions; a matter not scandalous, for there is nothing like a witty woman to turn a man's head, and there was not so much at stake after all. tarboe had gone on for many a year till his trade seemed like the romance of law rather than its breach. it is safe to say that lafarge was a less sincere if not a less blameless customs officer from this time forth. for humour on a woman's lips is a potent thing, as any man knows that has kissed it off in laughter. as we said, tarboe lay rocking in a bight at anticosti, with an empty hold and a scanty larder. still, he was in no ill-humour, for he smoked much and talked more than common. perhaps that was because joan was with him--an unusual thing. she was as good a sailor as her father, but she did not care, nor did he, to have her mixed up with him in his smuggling. so far as she knew, she had never been on board the ninety-nine when it carried a smuggled cargo. she had not broken the letter of the law. her father, on asking her to come on this cruise, had said that it was a pleasure trip to meet a vessel in the gulf. the pleasure had not been remarkable, though there had been no bad weather. the coast of anticosti is cheerless, and it is possible even to tire of sun and water. true, bissonnette played the concertina with passing sweetness, and sang as little like a wicked smuggler as one might think. but there were boundaries even to that, as there were to his love-making, which was, however, so interwoven with laughter that it was impossible to think the matter serious. sometimes of an evening joan danced on deck to the music of the concertina--dances which had their origin largely with herself fantastic, touched off with some unexpected sleight of foot--almost uncanny at times to bissonnette, whose temperament could hardly go her distance when her mood was as this. tarboe looked on with a keener eye and understanding, for was she not bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh? who was he that he should fail to know her? he saw the moonlight play on her face and hair, and he waved his head with the swaying of her body, and smacked his lips in thought of the fortune which, smuggling days over, would carry them up to st. louis street, quebec, there to dwell as in a garden of good things. after many days had passed, joan tired of the concertina, of her own dancing, of her father's tales, and became inquisitive. so at last she said: "father, what's all this for?" tarboe did not answer her at once, but, turning to bissonnette, asked him to play "the demoiselle with the scarlet hose." it was a gay little demoiselle according to bissonnette, and through the creaking, windy gaiety tarboe and his daughter could talk without being heard by the musician. tarboe lit another cigar--that badge of greatness in the eyes of his fellow-habitants, and said: "what's all this for, joan? why, we're here for our health." his teeth bit on the cigar with enjoyable emphasis. "if you don't tell me what's in the wind, you'll be sorry. come, where's the good? i've got as much head as you have, father, and--" "mon dieu! much more. that's not the question. it was to be a surprise to you." "pshaw! you can only have one minute of surprise, and you can have months of fun looking out for a thing. i don't want surprises; i want what you've got--the thing that's kept you good-tempered while we lie here like snails on the rocks." "well, my cricket, if that's the way you feel, here you are. it is a long story, but i will make it short. once there was a pirate called brigond, and he brought into a bay on the coast of labrador a fortune in some kegs--gold, gold! he hid it in a cave, wrapping around it the dead bodies of two men. it is thought that one can never find it so. he hid it, and sailed away. he was captured, and sent to prison in france for twenty years. then he come back with a crew and another ship, and sailed into the bay, but his ship went down within sight of the place. and so the end of him and all. but wait. there was one man, the mate on the first voyage. he had been put in prison also. he did not get away as soon as brigond. when he was free, he come to the captain of a ship that i know, the free-and-easy, that sails to havre, and told him the story, asking for passage to quebec. the captain--gobal--did not believe it, but said he would bring him over on the next voyage. gobal come to me and told me all there was to tell. i said that it was a true story, for pretty pierre told me once he saw brigond's ship go down in the bay; but he would not say how, or why, or where. pierre would not lie in a thing like that, and--" "why didn't he get the gold himself?" "what is money to him? he is as a gipsy. to him the money is cursed. he said so. eh bien! some wise men are fools, one way or another. well, i told gobal i would give the man the ninety-nine for the cruise and search, and that we should divide the gold between us, if it was found, taking out first enough to make a dot for you and a fine handful for bissonnette. but no, shake not your head like that. it shall be so. away went gobal four months ago, and i get a letter from him weeks past, just after pentecost, to say he would be here some time in the first of july, with the man. "well, it is a great game. the man is a pirate, but it does not matter-he has paid for that. i thought you would be glad of a fine adventure like that, so i said to you, come." "but, father--" "if you do not like you can go on with gobal in the free-and-easy, and you shall be landed at the isle of days. that's all. we're waiting here for gobal. he promised to stop just outside this bay and land our man on us. then, blood of my heart, away we go after the treasure!" joan's eyes flashed. adventure was in her as deep as life itself. she had been cradled in it, reared in it, lived with it, and here was no lawbreaking. whose money was it? no one's: for who should say what ship it was, or what people were robbed by brigond and those others? gold--that was a better game than wine and brandy, and for once her father would be on a cruise which would not be, as it were, sailing in forbidden waters. "when do you expect gobal?" she asked eagerly. "he ought to have been here a week ago. maybe he has had a bad voyage, or something." "he's sure to come?" "of course. i found out about that. she's got a big consignment to people in quebec. something has gone wrong, but she'll be here--yes." "what will you do if you get the money?" she asked. tarboe laughed heartily. "my faith! come play up those scarlet hose, bissonnette! my faith, i'll go into parliament at quebec. thunder! i will have sport with them. i'll reform the customs. there shan't be any more smuggling. the people of quebec shall drink no more good wine--no one except black tarboe, the member for isle of days." again he laughed, and his eyes spilt fire like revolving wheels. for a moment joan was quiet; her face was shining like the sun on a river. she saw more than her father, for she saw release. a woman may stand by a man who breaks the law, but in her heart she always has bitterness, for that the world shall speak well of herself and what she loves is the secret desire of every woman. in her heart she never can defy the world as does a man. she had carried off the situation as became the daughter of a daring adventurer, who in more stirring times might have been a du lhut or a rob roy, but she was sometimes tired of the fighting, sometimes wishful that she could hold her position easier. suppose the present good cure should die and another less considerate arrive, how hard might her position become! then, she had a spirit above her station, as have most people who know the world and have seen something of its forbidden side; for it is notable that wisdom comes not alone from loving good things, but from having seen evil as well as good. besides joan was not a woman to go singly to her life's end. there was scarcely a man on isle of days and in the parish of ste. eunice, on the mainland, but would gladly have taken to wife the daughter of tarboe the smuggler, and it is likely that the cure of either parish would not have advised against it. joan had had the taste of the lawless, and now she knew, as she sat and listened to bissonnette's music, that she also could dance for joy, in the hope of a taste of the lawful. with this money, if it were got, there could be another life--in quebec. she could not forbear laughing now as she remembered that first day she had seen orvay lafarge, and she said to bissonnette: "loce, do you mind the keg in the water-pail?" bissonnette paused on an out-pull, and threw back his head with a soundless laugh, then played the concertina into contortions. "that lafarge! h'm! he is very polite; but pshaw, it is no use that, in whisky-running! to beat a great man, a man must be great. tarboe noir can lead m'sieu' lafarge all like that!" it seemed as if he were pulling the nose of the concertina. tarboe began tracing a kind of maze with his fingers on the deck, his eyes rolling outward like an endless puzzle. but presently he turned sharp on joan. "how many times have you met him?" he asked. "oh, six or seven--eight or nine, perhaps." her father stared. "eight or nine? by the holy! is it like that? where have you seen him?" "twice at our home, as you know; two or three times at dances at the belle chatelaine, and the rest when we were at quebec in may. he is amusing, m'sieu' lafarge." "yes, two of a kind," remarked tarboe drily; and then he told his schemes to joan, letting bissonnette hang up the "the demoiselle with the scarlet hose," and begin "the coming of the gay cavalier." she entered into his plans with spirit, and together they speculated what bay it might be, of the many on the coast of labrador. they spent two days longer waiting, and then at dawn a merchantman came sauntering up to anchor. she signalled to the ninety-nine. in five minutes tarboe was climbing up the side of the free-and-easy, and presently was in gobal's cabin, with a glass of wine in his hand. "what kept you, gobal?" he asked. "you're ten days late, at least." "storm and sickness--broken mainmast and smallpox." gobal was not cheerful. tarboe caught at something. "you've got our man?" gobal drank off his wine slowly. "yes," he said. "well?--why don't you fetch him?" "you can see him below." "the man has legs, let him walk here. hello, my gobal, what's the matter? if he's here bring him up. we've no time to lose." "tarboe, the fool got smallpox, and died three hours ago--the tenth man since we started. we're going to give him to the fishes. they're putting him in his linen now." tarboe's face hardened. disaster did not dismay him, it either made him ugly or humourous, and one phase was as dangerous as the other. "d'ye mean to say," he groaned, "that the game is up? is it all finished? sweat o' my soul, my skin crawls like hot glass! is it the end, eh? the beast, to die!" gobal's eyes glistened. he had sent up the mercury, he would now bring it down. "not such a beast as you think. alive pirate, a convict, as comrade in adventure, is not sugar in the teeth. this one was no better than the worst. well, he died. that was awkward. but he gave me the chart of the bay before he died--and that was damn square." tarboe held out his hand eagerly, the big fingers bending claw-like. "give it me, gobal," he said. "wait. there's no hurry. come along, there's the bell: they're going to drop him." he coolly motioned, and passed out from the cabin to the ship's side. tarboe kept his tongue from blasphemy, and his hand from the captain's shoulder, for he knew only too well that gobal held the game in his hands. they leaned over and saw two sailors with something on a plank. "we therefore commit his body to the deep, in the knowledge of the judgment day--let her go!" grunted gobal; and a long straight canvas bundle shot with a swishing sound beneath the water. "it was rough on him too," he continued. "he waited twenty years to have his chance again. damn me, if i didn't feel as if i'd hit him in the eye, somehow, when he begged me to keep him alive long enough to have a look at the rhino. but it wasn't no use. he had to go, and i told him so. "then he did the fine thing: he give me the chart. but he made me swear on a book of the mass that if we got the gold we'd send one-half his share to a woman in paris, and the rest to his brother, a priest at nancy. i'll keep my word--but yes! eh, tarboe?" "you can keep your word for me! what, you think, gobal, there is no honour in black tarboe, and you've known me ten years! haven't i always kept my word like a clock?" gobal stretched out his hand. "like the sun-sure. that's enough. we'll stand by my oath. you shall see the chart." going again inside the cabin, gobal took out a map grimed with ceaseless fingering, and showed it to tarboe, putting his finger on the spot where the treasure lay. "the bay of belle amour!" cried tarboe, his eyes flashing. "ah, i know it! that's where gaspard the pilot lived. it's only forty leagues or so from here." his fingers ran here and there on the map. "yes, yes," he continued, "it's so, but he hasn't placed the reef right. ah, here is how brigond's ship went down! there's a needle of rock in the bay. it isn't here." gobal handed the chart over. "i can't go with you, but i take your word; i can say no more. if you cheat me i'll kill you; that's all." "let me give a bond," said tarboe quickly. "if i saw much gold perhaps i couldn't trust myself, but there's someone to be trusted, who'll swear for me. if my daughter joan give her word--" "is she with you?" "yes, in the ninety-nine, now. i'll send bissonnette for her. yes, yes, i'll send, for gold is worse than bad whisky when it gets into a man's head. joan will speak for me." ten minutes later joan was in gobal's cabin, guaranteeing for her father the fulfilment of his bond. an hour afterwards the free-and-easy was moving up stream with her splintered mast and ragged sails, and the ninety-nine was looking up and over towards the bay of belle amour. she reached it in the late afternoon of the next day. bissonnette did not know the object of the expedition, but he had caught the spirit of the affair, and his eyes were like spots of steel as he held the sheet or took his turn at the tiller. joan's eyes were now on the sky, now on the sail, and now on the land, weighing as wisely as her father the advantage of the wind, yet dwelling on that cave where skeletons kept ward over the spoils of a pirate ship. they arrived, and tarboe took the ninety-nine warily in on a little wind off the land. he came near sharing the fate of brigond, for the yawl grazed the needle of the rock that, hiding away in the water, with a nose out for destruction, awaits its victims. they reached safe anchorage, but by the time they landed it was night, with, however, a good moon showing. all night they searched, three silent, eager figures, drawing step by step nearer the place where the ancient enemy of man was barracked about by men's bodies. it was joan who, at last, as dawn drew up, discovered the hollow between two great rocks where the treasure lay. a few minutes' fierce digging, and the kegs of gold were disclosed, showing through the ribs of two skeletons. joan shrank back, but the two men tossed aside the rattling bones, and presently the kegs were standing between them on the open shore. bissonnette's eyes were hungry--he knew now the wherefore of the quest. he laughed outright, a silly, loud, hysterical laugh. tarboe's eyes shifted from the sky to the river, from the river to the kegs, from the kegs to bissonnette. on him they stayed a moment. bissonnette shrank back. tarboe was feeling for the first time in his life the deadly suspicion which comes with ill-gotten wealth. this passed as his eyes and joan's met, for she had caught the melodrama, the overstrain; bissonnette's laugh had pointed the situation; and her sense of humour had prevailed. "la, la," she said, with a whimsical quirk of the head, and no apparent relevancy: "lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, your house is on fire, and your children all gone." the remedy was good. tarboe's eyes came again to their natural liveliness, and bissonnette said: "my throat's like a piece of sand-paper." tarboe handed over a brandy flask, after taking a pull himself, and then sitting down on one of the kegs, he said: "it is as you see, and now angel point very quick. to get it there safe, that's the thing!" then, scanning the sky closely: "it's for a handsome day, and the wind goes to bear us up fine. good! well, for you, bissonnette, there shall be a thousand dollars, you shall have the belle chatelaine inn and the little lady at point pierrot. for the rest, you shall keep a quiet tongue, eh? if not, my bissonnette, we shall be the best of strangers, and you shall not be happy. hein?" bissonnette's eyes flashed. "the belle chatelaine? good! that is enough. my tongue is tied; i cannot speak; it is fastened with a thousand pegs." "very good, a thousand gold pegs, and you shall never pull them. the little lady will have you with them, not without; and unless you stand by me, no one shall have you at any price--by god!" he stood up, but joan put out her hand. "you have been speaking, now it is my turn. don't cry cook till you have the venison home. what is more, i gave my word to gobal, and i will keep it. i will be captain. no talking! when you've got the kegs in the cellar at angel point, good! but now--come, my comrades, i am your captain!" she was making the thing a cheerful adventure, and the men now swung the kegs on their shoulders and carried them to the boat. in another halfhour they were under way in the gaudy light of an orange sunrise, a simmering wind from the sea lifting them up the river, and the grey-red coast of labrador shrinking sullenly back. about this time, also, a government cutter was putting out from under the mountain-wall at quebec, its officer in command having got renewed orders from the minister to bring in tarboe the smuggler. and when mr. martin, the inspector in command of the expedition, was ordered to take with him mr. orvay lafarge and five men, "effectively armed," it was supposed by the romantic minister that the matter was as good as done. what mr. orvay lafarge did when he got the word, was to go straight to his hat-peg, then leave the office, walk to the little club where he spent leisure hours, called office hours by people who wished to be precise as well as suggestive,--sit down, and raise a glass to his lips. after which he threw himself back in his chair and said: "well, i'm particularly damned!" a few hours later they were away on their doubtful exploit. ii. the defence on the afternoon of the second day after she left labrador, the ninetynine came rippling near isle of fires, not sixty miles from her destination, catching a fair wind on her quarter off the land. tarboe was in fine spirits, joan was as full of songs as a canary, and bissonnette was as busy watching her as in keeping the nose of the ninety-nine pointing for cap de gloire. tarboe was giving the sail full to the wind, and thinking how he would just be able to reach angel point and get his treasure housed before mass in the morning. mass! how many times had he laughed as he sat in church and heard the cure have his gentle fling at smuggling! to think that the hiding-place for his liquor was the unused, almost unknown, cellar of that very church, built a hundred years before as a refuge from the indians, which he had reached by digging a tunnel from the shore to its secret passage! that was why the customs officers never found anything at angel point, and that was why tarboe much loved going to mass. he sometimes thought he could catch the flavour of the brands as he leaned his forehead on the seat before him. but this time he would go to mass with a fine handful of those gold pieces in his pocket, just to keep him in a commendable mood. he laughed out loud at the thought of doing so within a stone's throw of a fortune and nose-shot of fifty kegs of brandy. as he did so, bissonnette gave a little cry. they were coming on to cap de gloire at the moment, and tarboe and joan, looking, saw a boat standing off towards the mainland, as if waiting for them. tarboe gave a roar, and called to joan to take the tiller. he snatched a glass and levelled it. "a government tug!" he said, "and tete de diable! there's your tall lafarge among 'em, joan! i'd know him by his height miles off." joan lost colour a trifle and then got courage. "pshaw," she said, "what does he want?" "want? want? he wants the ninety-nine and her cargo; but by the sun of my soul, he'll get her across the devil's gridiron! see here, my girl, this ain't any sport with you aboard. bissonnette and i could make a stand for it alone, but what's to become of you? i don't want you mixed up in the mess." the girl was eyeing the government boat. "but i'm in it, and i can't be out of it, and i don't want to be out now that i am in. let me see the glass." she took it in one hand. "yes, it must be m'sieu' lafarge," she said, frowning. "he might have stayed out of this." "when he's got orders, he has to go," answered her father; "but he must look out, for a gun is a gun, and i don't pick and choose. besides, i've no contraband this cruise, and i'll let no one stick me up." "there are six or seven of them," said joan debatingly. "bring her up to the wind," shouted tarboe to bissonnette. the mainsail closed up several points, the ninety-nine slackened her pace and edged in closer to the land. "now, my girl," said tarboe, "this is how it stands. if we fight, there's someone sure to be hurt, and if i'm hurt, where'll you be?" bissonnette interposed. "we've got nothing contraband. the gold is ours." "trust that crew--but no!" cried tarboe, with an oath. "the government would hold the rhino for possible owners, and then give it to a convent or something. they shan't put foot here. they've said war, and they'll get it. they're signalling us to stop, and they're bearing down. there goes a shot!" the girl had been watching the government boat coolly. now that it began to bear on, she answered her father's question. "captain," she said, like a trusted mate, "we'll bluff them." her eyes flashed with the intelligence of war. "here, quick, i'll take the tiller. they haven't seen bissonnette yet; he sits low. call all hands on deck--shout! then, see: loce will go down the middle hatch, get a gun, come up with it on his shoulder, and move on to the fo'castle. then he'll drop down the fo'castle hatch, get along to the middle hatch, and come up again with the gun, now with his cap, now without it, now with his coat, now without it. he'll do that till we've got twenty or thirty men on deck! they'll think we've been laying for them, and they'll not come on--you see!" tarboe ripped out an oath. "it's a great game," he said, and a moment afterwards, in response to his roars, bissonnette came up the hatch with his gun showing bravely; then again and again, now with his cap, now without, now with his coat, now with none, anon with a tarpaulin over his shoulders grotesquely. meanwhile tarboe trained his one solitary little cannon on the enemy, roaring his men into place. from the tug it seemed that a large and well-armed crew were ranging behind the bulwarks of the ninety-nine. mr. martin, the inspector, saw with alarm bissonnette's constantly appearing rifle. "they've arranged a plant for us, mr. lafarge. what do you think we'd better do?" he asked. "fight!" answered lafarge laconically. he wished to put himself on record, for he was the only one on board who saw through the ruse. "but i've counted at least twenty men, all armed, and we've only five." "as you please, sir," said lafarge bluntly, angry at being tricked, but inwardly glad to be free of the business, for he pictured to himself that girl at the tiller--he had seen her as she went aft--in a police court at quebec. yet his instinct for war and his sense of duty impelled him to say: "still, sir, fight!" "no, no, mr. lafarge," excitedly rejoined his chief. "i cannot risk it. we must go back for more men and bring along a gatling. slow down!" he called. lafarge turned on his heel with an oath, and stood watching the ninety-nine. "she'll laugh at me till i die!" he said to himself presently, as the tug turned up stream and pointed for quebec. "well, i'm jiggered!" he added, as a cannon shot came ringing over the water after them. he was certain also that he heard loud laughter. no doubt he was right; for as the tug hurried on, tarboe ran to joan, hugged her like a bear, and roared till he ached. then she paid out the sheet, they clapped on all sail, and travelled in the track of the enemy. tarboe's spirit was roused. he was not disposed to let his enemy off on even such terms, so he now turned to joan and said: "what say you to a chase of the gentleman?" joan was in a mood for such a dare-devil adventure. for three people, one of whom was a girl, to give chase to a well-manned, well-armed government boat was too good a relish to be missed. then, too, it had just occurred to her that a parley would be amusing, particularly if she and lafarge were the truce-bearers. so she said: "that is very good." "suppose they should turn and fight?" suggested bissonnette. "that's true--here's m'am'selle," agreed tarboe. "but, see," said joan. "if we chase them and call upon them to surrender--and after all, we can prove that we had nothing contraband--what a splendid game it'll be!" mischief flicked in her eyes. "good!" said tarboe. "to-morrow i shall be a rich man, and then they'll not dare to come again." so saying, he gave the sail to the wind, and away the ninety-nine went after the one ewe lamb of the government. mr. martin saw her coming, and gave word for all steam. it would be a pretty game, for the wind was in tarboe's favour, and the general advantage was not greatly with the tug. mr. martin was now anxious indeed to get out of the way of the smuggler. lafarge made one restraining effort, then settled into an ironical mood. yet a half-dozen times he was inclined to blurt out to martin what he believed was the truth. a man, a boy, and a girl to bluff them that way! in his bones he felt that it was the girl who was behind this thing. of one matter he was sure--they had no contraband stuff on board, or tarboe would not have brought his daughter along. he could not understand the attitude, for tarboe would scarcely have risked the thing out of mere bravado. why not call a truce? perhaps he could solve the problem. they were keeping a tolerably safe distance apart, and there was no great danger of the ninety-nine overhauling them even if it so willed; but mr. martin did not know that. what he said to his chief had its effect, and soon there was a white flag flying on the tug. it was at once answered with a white handkerchief of joan's. then the tug slowed up, the ninety-nine came on gaily, and at a good distance came up to the wind, and stood off. "what do you want?" asked tarboe through his speaking-tube. "a parley," called mr. martin. "good; send an officer," answered tarboe. a moment after, lafarge was in a boat rowing over to meet another boat rowed by joan alone, who, dressed in a suit of bissonnette's, had prevailed on her father to let her go. the two boats nearing each other, joan stood up, saluting, and lafarge did the same. "good-day, m'sieu'," said joan, with assumed brusqueness, mischief lurking about her mouth. "what do you want?" "good-day, monsieur; i did not expect to confer with you." "m'sieu'," said joan, with well-acted dignity, "if you prefer to confer with the captain or mr. bissonnette, whom i believe you know in the matter of a pail, and--" "no, no; pardon me, monsieur," said lafarge more eagerly than was good for the play, "i am glad to confer with you, you will understand--you will understand--" he paused. "what will i understand?" "you will understand that i understand!" lafarge waved meaningly towards the ninety-nine, but it had no effect at all. joan would not give the game over into his hands. "that sounds like a charade or a puzzle game. we are gentlemen on a serious errand, aren't we?" "yes," answered lafarge, "perfect gentlemen on a perfectly serious errand!" "very well, m'sieu'. have you come to surrender?" the splendid impudence of the thing stunned lafarge, but he said: "i suppose one or the other ought to surrender; and naturally," he added with slow point, "it should be the weaker." "very well. our captain is willing to consider conditions. you came down on us to take us--a quiet craft sailing in free waters. you attack us without cause. we summon all hands, and you run. we follow, you ask for truce. it is granted. we are not hard--no. we only want our rights. admit them; we'll make surrender easy, and the matter is over." lafarge gasped. she was forcing his hand. she would not understand his oblique suggestions. he saw only one way now, and that was to meet her, boast for boast. "i haven't come to surrender," he said, "but to demand." "m'sieu'," joan said grandly, "there's nothing more to say. carry word to your captain that we'll overhaul him by sundown, and sink him before supper." lafarge burst out laughing. "well, by the lord, but you're a swashbuckler, joan--" "m'sieu'--" "oh, nonsense! i tell you, nonsense! let's have over with this, my girl. you're the cleverest woman on the continent, but there's a limit to everything. here, tell me now, and if you answer me straight i'll say no more." "m'sieu', i am here to consider conditions, not to--" "oh, for god's sake, joan! tell me now, have you got anything contraband on board? there'll be a nasty mess about the thing, for me and all of us, and why can't we compromise? i tell you honestly we'd have come on, if i hadn't seen you aboard." joan turned her head back with a laugh. "my poor m'sieu'! you have such bad luck. contraband? let me see? liquors and wines and tobacco are contraband. is it not so?" lafarge nodded. "is money--gold--contraband?" "money? no; of course not, and you know it. why won't you be sensible? you're getting me into a bad hole, and--" "i want to see how you'll come out. if you come out well--" she paused quaintly. "yes, if i come out well--" "if you come out very well, and we do not sink you before supper, i may ask you to come and see me." "h'm! is that all? after spoiling my reputation, i'm to be let come and see you." "isn't that enough to start with? what has spoiled your reputation?" "a man, a boy, and a slip of a girl." he looked meaningly enough at her now. she laughed. "see," he added; "give me a chance. let me search the ninety-nine for contraband,--that's all i've got to do with,--and then i can keep quiet about the rest. if there's no contraband, whatever else there is, i'll hold my tongue." "i've told you what there is." he did not understand. "will you let me search?" joan's eyes flashed. "once and for all, no, orvay lafarge. i am the daughter of a man whom you and your men would have killed or put in the dock. he's been a smuggler, and i know it. who has he robbed? not the poor, not the needy; but a rich government that robs also. well, in the hour when he ceases to be a smuggler for ever, armed men come to take him. why didn't they do so before? why so pious all at once? no; i am first the daughter of my father, and afterwards--" "and afterwards?" "what to-morrow may bring forth." lafarge became very serious. "i must go back. mr. martin is signalling, and your father is calling. i do not understand, but you're the one woman in the world for my money, and i'm ready to stand by that and leave the customs to-morrow if need be." joan's eyes blazed, her cheek was afire. "leave it to-day. leave it now. yes; that's my one condition. if you want me, and you say you do, come aboard the ninety-nine, and for to-day be one of us-to-morrow what you will." "what i will? what i will, joan? do you mean it?" "yes. pshaw! your duty? don't i know how the ministers and the officers have done their duty at quebec? it's all nonsense. you must make your choice once for all now." lafarge stood a moment thinking. "joan, i'll do it. i'd go hunting in hell at your bidding. but see. everything's changed. i couldn't fight against you, but i can fight for you. all must be open now. you've said there's no contraband. well, i'll tell mr. martin so, but i'll tell him also that you've only a crew of two--" "of three, now!" "of three! i will do my duty in that, then resign and come over to you, if i can." if you can? you mean that they may fire on you?" "i can't tell what they may do. but i must deal fair." joan's face was grave. "very well, i will wait for you here." "they might hit you." "but no. they can't hit a wall. go on, my dear." they saluted, and, as lafarge turned away, joan said, with a little mocking laugh, "tell him that he must surrender, or we'll sink him before supper." lafarge nodded, and drew away quickly towards the tug. his interview with mr. martin was brief, and he had tendered his resignation, though it was disgracefully informal, and was over the side of the boat again and rowing quickly away before his chief recovered his breath. then mr. martin got a large courage. he called on his men to fire when lafarge was about two hundred and fifty feet from the tug. the shots rattled about him. he turned round coolly and called out, "coward-we'll sink you before supper!" a minute afterwards there came another shot, and an oar dropped from his hand. but now joan was rowing rapidly towards him, and presently was alongside. "quick, jump inhere," she said. he did so, and she rowed on quickly. tarboe did not understand, but now his blood was up, and as another volley sent bullets dropping around the two he gave the ninety-nine to the wind, and she came bearing down smartly to them. in a few moments they were safely on board, and joan explained. tarboe grasped lafarge's unmaimed hand,--the other joan was caring for,--and swore that fighting was the only thing left now. mr. martin had said the same, but when he saw the ninety-nine determined, menacing, and coming on, he became again uncertain, and presently gave orders to make for the lighthouse on the opposite side of the river. he could get over first, for the ninety-nine would not have the wind so much in her favour, and there entrench himself; for even yet bissonnette amply multiplied was in his mind--lafarge had not explained that away. he was in the neighbourhood of some sunken rocks of which he and his man at the wheel did not know accurately, and in making what he thought was a clear channel he took a rock with great force, for they were going full steam ahead. then came confusion, and in getting out the one boat it was swamped and a man nearly drowned. meanwhile the tug was fast sinking. while they were throwing off their clothes, the ninety-nine came down, and stood off. on one hand was the enemy, on the other the water, with the shore half a mile distant. "do you surrender?" called out tarboe. "can't we come aboard without that?" feebly urged mr. martin. "i'll see you damned first, mr. martin. come quick, or i'll give you what for." "we surrender," answered the officer gently. a few minutes later he and his men were on board, with their rifles stacked in a corner at bissonnette's hand. then tarboe brought the ninety-nine close to the wreck, and with his little cannon put a ball into her. this was the finish. she shook her nose, shivered, shot down like a duck, and was gone. mr. martin was sad even to tears. "now, my beauties," said tarboe, "now that i've got you safe, i'll show you the kind of cargo i've got." a moment afterwards he hoisted a keg on deck. "think that's whisky?" he asked. "lift it, mr. martin." mr. martin obeyed. "shake it," he added. mr. martin did so. "open it, mr. martin." he held out a hatchet-hammer. the next moment a mass of gold pieces yellowed to their eyes. mr. martin fell back, breathing hard. "is that contraband, mr. martin?" "treasure-trove," humbly answered the stricken officer. "that's it, and in a month, mr. martin, i'll be asking the chief of your department to dinner." meanwhile lafarge saw how near he had been to losing a wife and a fortune. arrived off isle of day; tarboe told mr. martin and his men that if they said "treasure-trove" till they left the island their live would not be worth "a tinker's damn." when the had sworn, he took them to angel point, fed then royally, gave them excellent liquor to drink, and sent them in a fishing-smack with bissonnette to quebec where, arriving, they told strange tales. bissonnette bore a letter to a certain banker in quebec, who already had done business with tarboe, and next midnight tarboe himself, with gobal, lafarge, bissonnette, and another, came knocking at the banker's door, each carrying a keg on his shoulder and armed to the teeth. and, what was singular two stalwart police-officers walked behind with comfortable and approving looks. a month afterwards lafarge and joan were married in the parish church at isle of days, and it was said that mr. martin, who, for some strange reason, was allowed to retain his position in the customs, sent a present. the wedding ended with a sensation, for just as the benediction was pronounced a loud report was heard beneath the floor of the church. there was great commotion, but tarboe whispered in the curb's ear, and he blushing, announced that it was the bursting of a barrel. a few minutes afterwards the people of the parish knew the old hiding-place of tarboe's contraband, and, though the cure rebuked them, they roared with laughter at the knowledge. "so droll, so droll, our tarboe there!" they shouted, for already they began to look upon him as their seigneur. in time the cure forgave him also. tarboe seldom left isle of days, save when he went to visit his daughter, in st. louis street, quebec, not far from the parliament house, where orvay lafarge is a member of the ministry. the ex-smuggler was a member of the assembly for three months, but after defeating his own party on a question of tariff, he gave a portrait of himself to the chamber, and threw his seat into the hands of his son-in-law. at the belle chatelaine, where he often goes, he sometimes asks bissonnette to play "the demoiselle with the scarlet hose." romany of the snows i when old throng the trader, trembling with sickness and misery, got on his knees to captain halby and groaned, "she didn't want to go; they dragged her off; you'll fetch her back, won't ye?--she always had a fancy for you, cap'n," pierre shrugged a shoulder and said: "but you stole her when she was in her rock-a-by, my throng--you and your manette." "like a match she was--no bigger," continued the old man. "lord, how that stepmother bully-ragged her, and her father didn't care a darn. he'd half a dozen others--manette and me hadn't none. we took her and used her like as if she was an angel, and we brought her off up here. haven't we set store by her? wasn't it 'cause we was lonely an' loved her we took her? hasn't everybody stood up and said there wasn't anyone like her in the north? ain't i done fair by her always--ain't i? an' now, when this cough 's eatin' my life out, and manette 's gone, and there ain't a soul but duc the trapper to put a blister on to me, them brutes ride up from over the border, call theirselves her brothers, an' drag her off!" he was still on his knees. pierre reached over and lightly kicked a moccasined foot. "get up, jim throng," he said. "holy! do you think the law moves because an old man cries? is it in the statutes?--that's what the law says. does it come within the act? is it a trespass--an assault and battery? --a breach of the peace?--a misdemeanour? victoria--so and so: that's how the law talks. get on your knees to father corraine, not to captain halby, jimmy throng." pierre spoke in a half-sinister, ironical way, for between him and captain halby's riders of the plains there was no good feeling. more than once he had come into conflict with them, more than once had they laid their hands on him--and taken them off again in due time. he had foiled them as to men they wanted; he had defied them--but he had helped them too, when it seemed right to him; he had sided with them once or twice when to do so was perilous to himself. he had sneered at them, he did not like them, nor they him. the sum of it was, he thought them brave--and stupid; and he knew that the law erred as often as it set things right. the trader got up and stood between the two men, coughing much, his face straining, his eyes bloodshot, as he looked anxiously from pierre to halby. he was the sad wreck of a strong man. nothing looked strong about him now save his head, which, with its long grey hair, seemed badly balanced by the thin neck, through which the terrible cough was hacking. "only half a lung left," he stammered, as soon as he could speak, "an' duc can't fix the boneset, camomile, and whisky, as she could. an' he waters the whisky--curse-his-soul!" the last three words were spoken through another spasm of coughing. "an' the blister--how he mucks the blister!" pierre sat back on the table, laughing noiselessly, his white teeth shining. halby, with one foot on a bench, was picking at the fur on his sleeve thoughtfully. his face was a little drawn, his lips were tightpressed, and his eyes had a light of excitement. presently he straightened himself, and, after a half-malicious look at pierre, he said to throng: "where are they, do you say?" "they're at"--the old man coughed hard--"at fort o'battle." "what are they doing there?" "waitin' till spring, when they'll fetch their cattle up an' settle there." "they want--lydia--to keep house for them?" the old man writhed. "yes, god's sake, that's it! an' they want liddy to marry a devil called borotte, with a thousand cattle or so--pito the courier told me yesterday. pito saw her, an' he said she was white like a sheet, an' called out to him as he went by. only half a lung i got, an' her boneset and camomile 'd save it for a bit, mebbe--mebbe!" "it's clear," said halby, "that they trespassed, and they haven't proved their right to her." "tonnerre, what a thinker!" said pierre, mocking. halby did not notice. his was a solid sense of responsibility. "she is of age?" he half asked, half mused. "she's twenty-one," answered the old man, with difficulty. "old enough to set the world right," suggested pierre, still mocking. "she was forced away, she regarded you as her natural protector, she believed you her father: they broke the law," said the soldier. "there was moses, and solomon, and caesar, and socrates, and now....!" murmured pierre in assumed abstraction. a red spot burned on halby's high cheekbone for a minute, but he persistently kept his temper. "i'm expected elsewhere," he said at last. "i'm only one man, yet i wish i could go to-day--even alone. but--" "but you have a heart," said pierre. "how wonderful--a heart! and there's the half a lung, and the boneset and camomile tea, and the blister, and the girl with an eye like a spot of rainbow, and the sacred law in a remington rifle! well, well! and to do it in the early morning--to wait in the shelter of the trees till some go to look after the horses, then enter the house, arrest those inside, and lay low for the rest." halby looked over at pierre astonished. here was raillery and good advice all in a piece. "it isn't wise to go alone, for if there's trouble and i should go down, who's to tell the truth? two could do it; but one--no, it isn't wise, though it would look smart enough." "who said to go alone?" asked pierre, scrawling on the table with a burnt match. "i have no men." pierre looked up at the wall. "throng has a good snider there," he said. "bosh! throng can't go." the old man coughed and strained. "if it wasn't--only-half a lung, and i could carry the boneset 'long with us." pierre slid off the table, came to the old man, and, taking him by the arms, pushed him gently into a chair. "sit down; don't be a fool, throng," he said. then he turned to halby: "you're a magistrate-make me a special constable; i'll go, monsieur le capitaine--of no company." halby stared. he knew pierre's bravery, his ingenuity and daring. but this was the last thing he expected: that the malicious, railing little half-breed would work with him and the law. pierre seemed to understand his thoughts, for he said: "it is not for you. i am sick for adventure, and then there is mademoiselle--such a finger she has for a ven'son pudding." without a word halby wrote on a leaf in his notebook, and presently handed the slip to pierre. "that's your commission as a special constable," he said, "and here's the seal on it." he handed over a pistol. pierre raised his eyebrows at it, but halby continued: "it has the government mark. but you'd better bring throng's rifle too." throng sat staring at the two men, his hands nervously shifting on his knees. "tell liddy," he said, "that the last batch of bread was sour-duc ain't no good-an' that i ain't had no relish sence she left. tell her the cough gits lower down all the time. 'member when she tended that felon o' yourn, pierre?" pierre looked at a sear on his finger and nodded. "she cut it too young; but she had the nerve! when do you start, captain? it's an eighty-mile ride." "at once," was the reply. "we can sleep to-night in the jim-a-long-jo" (a hut which the company had built between two distant posts), "and get there at dawn day after to-morrow. the snow is light and we can travel quick. i have a good horse, and you--" "i have my black tophet. he'll travel with your roan as on one snafflebar. that roan--you know where he come from?" "from the dolright stud, over the border." "that's wrong. he come from greystop's paddock, where my tophet was foaled; they are brothers. yours was stole and sold to the gover'ment; mine was bought by good hard money. the law the keeper of stolen goods, eh? but these two will go cinch to cinch all the way, like two brothers --like you and me." he could not help the touch of irony in his last words: he saw the amusing side of things, and all humour in him had a strain of the sardonic. "brothers-in-law for a day or two," answered halby drily. within two hours they were ready to start. pierre had charged duc the incompetent upon matters for the old man's comfort, and had himself, with a curious sort of kindness, steeped the boneset and camomile in whisky, and set a cup of it near his chair. then he had gone up to throng's bedroom and straightened out and shook and "made" the corn-husk bed, which had gathered into lumps and rolls. before he came down he opened a door near by and entered another room, shutting the door, and sitting down on a chair. a stovepipe ran through the room, and it was warm, though the window was frosted and the world seemed shut out. he looked round slowly, keenly interested. there was a dressing-table made of an old box; it was covered with pink calico, with muslin over this. a cheap looking-glass on it was draped with muslin and tied at the top with a bit of pink ribbon. a common bone comb lay near the glass, and beside it a beautiful brush with an ivory back and handle. this was the only expensive thing in the room. he wondered, but did not go near it yet. there was a little eight-day clock on a bracket which had been made by hand--pasteboard darkened with umber and varnished; a tiny little set of shelves made of the wood of cigar-boxes; and--alas, the shifts of poverty to be gay!--an easy-chair made of the staves of a barrel and covered with poor chintz. then there was a photograph or two, in little frames made from the red cedar of cigar-boxes, with decorations of putty, varnished, and a long panel screen of birch-bark of indian workmanship. some dresses hung behind the door. the bedstead was small, the frame was of hickory, with no footboard, ropes making the support for the husk tick. across the foot lay a bedgown and a pair of stockings. pierre looked long, at first curiously; but after a little his forehead gathered and his lips drew in a little, as if he had a twinge of pain. he got up, went over near the bed, and picked up a hairpin. then he came back to the chair and sat down, turning it about in his fingers, still looking abstractedly at the floor. "poor lucy!" he said presently; "the poor child! ah, what a devil i was then--so long ago!" this solitary room--lydia's--had brought back the time he went to the room of his own wife, dead by her own hand after an attempt to readjust the broken pieces of life, and sat and looked at the place which had been hers, remembering how he had left her with her wet face turned to the wall, and never saw her again till she was set free for ever. since that time he had never sat in a room sacred to a woman alone. "what a fool, what a fool, to think!" he said at last, standing up; "but this girl must be saved. she must have her home here again." unconsciously he put the hairpin in his pocket, walked over to the dressing-table and picked up the hair-brush. on its back was the legend, "l. t. from c. h." he gave a whistle. "so-so?" he said, "'c. h.' m'sieu' le capitaine, is it like that?" a year before, lydia had given captain halby a dollar to buy her a hairbrush at winnipeg, and he had brought her one worth ten dollars. she had beautiful hair, and what pride she had in using this brush! every sunday morning she spent a long time in washing, curling, and brushing her hair, and every night she tended it lovingly, so that it was a splendid rich brown like her eye, coiling nobly above her plain, strong face with its good colour. pierre, glancing in the glass, saw captain halby's face looking over his shoulder. it startled him, and he turned round. there was the face looking out from a photograph that hung on the wall in the recess where the bed was. he noted now that the likeness hung where the girl could see it the last thing at night and the first thing in the morning. "so far as that, eh!" he said. "and m'sieu' is a gentleman, too. we shall see what he will do: he has his chance now, once for all." he turned, came to the door, softly opened it, passed out, and shut it, then descended the stairs, and in half an hour was at the door with captain halby, ready to start. it was an exquisite winter day, even in its bitter coldness. the sun was shining clear and strong, all the plains glistened and shook like quicksilver, and the vast blue cup of sky seemed deeper than it had ever been. but the frost ate the skin like an acid, and when throng came to the door pierre drove him back instantly from the air. "i only-wanted--to say--to liddy," hacked the old man, "that i'm thinkin'--a little m'lasses 'd kinder help--the boneset an' camomile. tell her that the cattle 'll all be hers--an'--the house, an' i ain't got no one but--" but pierre pushed him back and shut the door, saying: "i'll tell her what a fool you are, jimmy throng." the old man, as he sat down awkwardly in his chair, with duc stolidly lighting his pipe and watching him, said to himself: "yes, i be a durn fool; i be, i be!" over and over again. and when the dog got up from near the stove and came near to him, he added: "i be, touser; i be a durn fool, for i ought to ha' stole two or three, an' then i'd not be alone, an' nothin' but sour bread an' pork to eat. i ought to ha' stole three." "ah, manette ought to have given you some of your own, it's true, that!" said duc stolidly. "you never was a real father, jim." "liddy got to look like me; she got to look like manette and me, i tell ye!" said the old man hoarsely. duc laughed in his stupid way. "look like you? look like you, jim, with a face to turn milk sour? ho, ho!" throng rose, his face purple with anger, and made as if to catch duc by the throat, but a fit of coughing seized him, and presently blood showed on his lips. duc, with a rough gentleness, wiped off the blood and put the whisky-and-herbs to the sick man's lips, saying, in a fatherly way: "for why you do like that? you're a fool, jimmy!" "i be, i be," said the old man in a whisper, and let his hand rest on duc's shoulder. "i'll fix the bread sweet next time, jimmy." "no, no," said the husky voice peevishly. "she'll do it--liddy'll do it. liddy's comin'." "all right, jimmy. all right." after a moment throng shook his head feebly and said, scarcely above a whisper: "but i be a durn fool--when she's not here." duc nodded and gave him more whisky and herbs. "my feet's cold," said the old man, and duc wrapped a bearskin round his legs. ii for miles pierre and halby rode without a word. then they got down and walked for a couple of miles, to bring the blood into their legs again. "the old man goes to by-by bientot," said pierre at last. "you don't think he'll last long?" "maybe ten days; maybe one. if we don't get the girl, out goes his torchlight straight." "she's been very good to him." "he's been on his knees to her all her life." "there'll be trouble out of this, though." "pshaw! the girl is her own master." "i mean, someone will probably get hurt over there." he nodded in the direction of fort o'battle. "that's in the game. the girl is worth fighting for, hein?" "of course, and the law must protect her. it's a free country." "so true, my captain," murmured pierre drily. "it is wonderful what a man will do for the law." the tone struck halby. pierre was scanning the horizon abstractedly. "you are always hitting at the law," he said. "why do you stand by it now?" "for the same reason as yourself." "what is that?" "she has your picture in her room, she has my lucky dollar in her pocket." halby's face flushed, and then he turned and looked steadily into pierre's eyes. "we'd better settle this thing at once. if you're going to fort o'battle because you've set your fancy there, you'd better go back now. that's straight. you and i can't sail in the same boat. i'll go alone, so give me the pistol." pierre laughed softly, and waved the hand back. "t'sh! what a highcock-a-lorum! you want to do it all yourself--to fill the eye of the girl alone, and be tucked away to by-by for your pains--mais, quelle folie! see: you go for law and love; i go for fun and jimmy throng. the girl? pshaw! she would come out right in the end, without you or me. but the old man with half a lung--that's different. he must have sweet bread in his belly when he dies, and the girl must make it for him. she shall brush her hair with the ivory brush by sunday morning." halby turned sharply. "you've been spying," he said. "you've been in her room--you--" pierre put out his hand and stopped the word on halby's lips. "slow, slow," he said; "we are both--police to-day. voila! we must not fight. there is throng and the girl to think of." suddenly, with a soft fierceness, he added: "if i looked in her room, what of that? in all the north is there a woman to say i wrong her? no. well, what if i carry her room in my eye; does that hurt her or you?" perhaps something of the loneliness of the outlaw crept into pierre's voice for an instant, for halby suddenly put a hand on his shoulder and said: "let's drop the thing, pierre." pierre looked at him musingly. "when throng is put to by-by what will you do?" he asked. "i will marry her, if she'll have me." "but she is prairie-born, and you!" "i'm a prairie-rider." after a moment pierre said, as if to himself: "so quiet and clean, and the print calico and muslin, and the ivory brush!" it is hard to say whether he was merely working on halby that he be true to the girl, or was himself softhearted for the moment. he had a curious store of legend and chanson, and he had the frenchman's power of applying them, though he did it seldom. but now he said in a half monotone: "have you seen the way i have built my nest? (o brave and tall is the grand seigneur!) i have trailed the east, i have searched the west, (o clear of eye is the grand seigneur!) from south and north i have brought the best: the feathers fine from an eagle's crest, the silken threads from a prince's vest, the warm rose-leaf from a maiden's breast (o long he bideth, the grand seigneur!)." they had gone scarce a mile farther when pierre, chancing to turn round, saw a horseman riding hard after them. they drew up, and soon the man-a rider of the plains--was beside them. he had stopped at throng's to find halby, and had followed them. murder had been committed near the border, and halby was needed at once. halby stood still, numb with distress, for there was lydia. he turned to pierre in dismay. pierre's face lighted up with the spirit of fresh adventure. desperate enterprises roused him; the impossible had a charm for him. "i will go to fort o'battle," he said. "give me another pistol." "you cannot do it alone," said halby, hope, however, in his voice. "i will do it, or it will do me, voila!" pierre replied. halby passed over a pistol. "i'll never forget it, on my honour, if you do it," he said. pierre mounted his horse and said, as if a thought had struck him: "if i stand for the law in this, will you stand against it some time for me?" halby hesitated, then said, holding out his hand, "yes, if it's nothing dirty." pierre smiled. "clean tit for clean tat," he said, touching halby's fingers, and then, with a gesture and an au revoir, put his horse to the canter, and soon a surf of snow was rising at two points on the prairie, as the law trailed south and east. that night pierre camped in the jim-a-long-jo, finding there firewood in plenty, and tophet was made comfortable in the lean-to. within another thirty hours he was hid in the woods behind fort o'battle, having travelled nearly all night. he saw the dawn break and the beginning of sunrise as he watched the fort, growing every moment colder, while his horse trembled and whinnied softly, suffering also. at last he gave a little grunt of satisfaction, for he saw two men come out of the fort and go to the corral. he hesitated a minute longer, then said: "i'll not wait," patted his horse's neck, pulled the blanket closer round him, and started for the fort. he entered the yard--it was empty. he went to the door of the fort, opened it, entered, shut it, locked it softly, and put the key in his pocket. then he passed through into a room at the end of the small hallway. three men rose from seats by the fire as he did so, and one said: "hullo, who're you?" another added: "it's pretty pierre." pierre looked at the table laid for breakfast, and said: "where's lydia throng?" the elder of the three brothers replied: "there's no lydia throng here. there's lydia bontoff, though, and in another week she'll be lydia something else." "what does she say about it herself?" "you've no call to know." "you stole her, forced her from throng's-her father's house." "she wasn't throng's; she was a bontoff--sister of us. "well, she says throng, and throng it's got to be." "what have you got to say about it?" at that moment lydia appeared at the door leading from the kitchen. "whatever she has to say," answered pierre. "who're you talking for?" "for her, for throng, for the law." "the law--by gosh, that's good! you, you darned gambler; you scum!" said caleb, the brother who knew him. pierre showed all the intelligent, resolute coolness of a trained officer of the law. he heard a little cry behind him, and stepping sideways, and yet not turning his back on the men, he saw lydia. "pierre! pierre!" she said in a half-frightened way, yet with a sort of pleasure lighting up her face; and she stepped forward to him. one of the brothers was about to pull her away, but pierre whipped out his commission. "wait," he said. "that's enough. i'm for the law; i belong to the mounted police. i have come for the girl you stole." the elder brother snatched the paper and read. then he laughed loud and long. "so you've come to fetch her away," he said, "and this is how you do it!"--he shook the paper. "well, by--" suddenly he stopped. "come," he said, "have a drink, and don't be a dam' fool. she's our sister,--old throng stole her, and she's goin' to marry our partner. here, caleb, fish out the brandy-wine," he added to his younger brother, who went to a cupboard and brought the bottle. pierre, waving the liquor away, said quietly to the girl: "you wish to go back to your father, to jimmy throng?" he then gave her throng's message, and added: "he sits there rocking in the big chair and coughing --coughing! and then there's the picture on the wall upstairs and the little ivory brush--" she put out her hands towards him. "i hate them all here," she said. "i never knew them. they forced me away. i have no father but jimmy throng. i will not stay," she flashed out in sudden anger to the others; "i'll kill myself and all of you before i marry that borotte." pierre could hear a man tramping about upstairs. caleb knocked on the stove-pipe, and called to him to come down. pierre guessed it was borotte. this would add one more factor to the game. he must move at once. he suddenly slipped a pistol into the girl's hand, and with a quick word to her, stepped towards the door. the elder brother sprang between--which was what he looked for. by this time every man had a weapon showing, snatched from wall and shelf. pierre was cool. he said: "remember, i am for the law. i am not one man. you are thieves now; if you fight and kill, you will get the rope, every one. move from the door, or i'll fire. the girl comes with me." he had heard a door open behind him, now there was an oath and a report, and a bullet grazed his cheek and lodged in the wall beyond. he dared not turn round, for the other men were facing him. he did not move, but the girl did. "coward!" she said, and raised her pistol at borotte, standing with her back against pierre's. there was a pause, in which no one stirred, and then the girl, slowly walking up to borotte, her pistol levelled, said: "you low coward--to shoot a man from behind; and you want to be a decent girl's husband! these men that say they're my brothers are brutes, but you're a sneak. if you stir a step i'll fire." the cowardice of borotte was almost ridiculous. he dared not harm the girl, and her brothers could not prevent her harming him. here there came a knocking at the front door. the other brothers had come, and found it locked. pierre saw the crisis, and acted instantly. "the girl and i--we will fight you to the end," he said, "and then what's left of you the law will fight to the end. come," he added, "the old man can't live a week. when he's gone then you can try again. she will have what he owns. quick, or i arrest you all, and then--" "let her go," said borotte; "it ain't no use." presently the elder brother broke out laughing. "damned if i thought the girl had the pluck, an' damned if i thought borotte was a crawler. put an eye out of him, liddy, an' come to your brother's arms. here," he added to the others, "up with your popguns; this shindy's off; and the girl goes back till the old man tucks up. have a drink," he added to pierre, as he stood his rifle in a corner and came to the table. in half an hour pierre and the girl were on their way, leaving borotte quarrelling with the brothers, and all drinking heavily. the two arrived at throng's late the next afternoon. there had been a slight thaw during the day, and the air was almost soft, water dripping from the eaves down the long icicles. when lydia entered, the old man was dozing in his chair. the sound of an axe out behind the house told where duc was. the whisky-and-herbs was beside the sick man's chair, and his feet were wrapped about with bearskins. the girl made a little gesture of pain, and then stepped softly over and, kneeling, looked into throng's face. the lips were moving. "dad," she said, "are you asleep?" "i be a durn fool, i be," he said in a whisper, and then he began to cough. she took his' hands. they were cold, and she rubbed them softly. "i feel so a'mighty holler," he said, gasping, "an' that bread's sour agin." he shook his head pitifully. his eyes at last settled on her, and he recognised her. he broke into a giggling laugh; the surprise was almost too much for his feeble mind and body. his hands reached and clutched hers. "liddy! liddy!" he whispered, then added peevishly, "the bread's sour, an' the boneset and camomile's no good. . . . ain't tomorrow bakin'-day?" he added. "yes, dad," she said, smoothing his hands. "what damned--liars--they be--liddy! you're my gel, ain't ye?" "yes, dad. i'll make some boneset liquor now." "yes, yes," he said, with childish eagerness and a weak, wild smile. "that's it--that's it." she was about to rise, but he caught her shoulder. "i bin a good dad to ye, hain't i, liddy?" he whispered. "always." "never had no ma but manette, did ye?" "never, dad." "what danged liars they be!" he said, chuckling. she kissed him, and moved away to the fire to pour hot water and whisky on the herbs. his eyes followed her proudly, shining like wet glass in the sun. he laughed--such a wheezing, soundless laugh! "he! he! he! i ain't no--durn--fool--bless--the lord!" he said. then the shining look in his eyes became a grey film, and the girl turned round suddenly, for the long, wheezy breathing had stopped. she ran to him, and, lifting up his head, saw the look that makes even the fool seem wise in his cold stillness. then she sat down on the floor, laid her head against the arm of his chair, and wept. it was very quiet inside. from without there came the twang of an axe, and a man's voice talking to his horse. when the man came in, he lifted the girl up, and, to comfort her, bade her go look at a picture hanging in her little room. after she was gone he lifted the body, put it on a couch, and cared for it. the plunderer it was no use: men might come and go before her, but kitty cline had eyes for only one man. pierre made no show of liking her, and thought, at first, that hers was a passing fancy. he soon saw differently. there was that look in her eyes which burns conviction as deep as the furnace from which it comes: the hot, shy, hungering look of desire; most childlike, painfully infinite. he would rather have faced the cold mouth of a pistol; for he felt how it would end. he might be beyond wish to play the lover, but he knew that every man can endure being loved. he also knew that some are possessed--a dream, a spell, what you will--for their life long. kitty cline was one of these. he thought he must go away, but he did not. from the hour he decided to stay misfortune began. willie haslam, the clerk at the company's post, had learned a trick or two at cards in the east, and imagined that he could, as he said himself, "roast the cock o' the roost"--meaning pierre. he did so for one or two evenings, and then pierre had a sudden increase of luck (or design), and the lad, seeing no chance of redeeming the i o u, representing two years' salary, went down to the house where kitty cline lived, and shot himself on the door-step. he had had the misfortune to prefer kitty to the other girls at guidon hill--though nellie sanger would have been as much to him, if kitty had been easier to win. the two things together told hard against pierre. before, he might have gone; in the face of difficulty he certainly would not go. willie haslam's funeral was a public function: he was young, innocent-looking, handsome, and the people did not know what pierre would not tell now--that he had cheated grossly at cards. pierre was sure, before liddall, the surveyor, told him, that a movement was apace to give him trouble--possibly fatal. "you had better go," said liddall. "there's no use tempting providence." "they are tempting the devil," was the cool reply; "and that is not all joy, as you shall see." he stayed. for a time there was no demonstration on either side. he came and went through the streets, and was found at his usual haunts, to observers as cool and nonchalant as ever. he was a changed man, however. he never got away from the look in kitty cline's eyes. he felt the thing wearing on him, and he hesitated to speculate on the result; but he knew vaguely that it would end in disaster. there is a kind of corrosion which eats the granite out of the blood, and leaves fever. "what is the worst thing that can happen a man, eh?" he said to liddall one day, after having spent a few minutes with kitty cline. liddall was an honest man. he knew the world tolerably well. in writing once to his partner in montreal he had spoken of pierre as "an admirable, interesting scoundrel." once when pierre called him "mon ami," and asked him to come and spend an evening in his cottage, he said: "yes, i will go. but--pardon me--not as your friend. let us be plain with each other. i never met a man of your stamp before--" "a professional gambler--yes? bien?" "you interest me; i like you; you have great cleverness--" "a priest once told me i had a great brain-there is a difference. well?" "you are like no man i ever met before. yours is a life like none i ever knew. i would rather talk with you than with any other man in the country, and yet--" "and yet you would not take me to your home? that is all right. i expect nothing. i accept the terms. i know what i am and what you are. i like men who are square. you would go out of your way to do me a good turn." it was on his tongue to speak of katy cline, but he hesitated: it was not fair to the girl, he thought, though what he had intended was for her good. he felt he had no right to assume that liddall knew how things were. the occasion slipped by. but the same matter had been in his mind when, later, he asked, "what is the worst thing that can happen to a man?" liddall looked at him long, and then said: "to stand between two fires." pierre smiled: it was an answer after his own heart. liddall remembered it very well in the future. "what is the thing to do in such a case?" pierre asked. "it is not good to stand still." "but what if you are stunned, or do not care?" "you should care. it is not wise to strain a situation." pierre rose, walked up and down the room once or twice, then stood still, his arms folded, and spoke in a low tone. "once in the rockies i was lost. i crept into a cave at night. i knew it was the nest of some wild animal; but i was nearly dead with hunger and fatigue. i fell asleep. when i woke--it was towards morning--i saw two yellow stars glaring where the mouth of the cave had been. they were all hate: like nothing you could imagine: passion as it is first made--yes. there was also a rumbling sound. it was terrible, and yet i was not scared. hate need not disturb you.--i am a quick shot. i killed that mountain lion, and i ate the haunch of deer i dragged from under her . . . " he turned now, and, facing the doorway, looked out upon the village, to the roof of a house which they both knew. "hate," he said, "is not the most wonderful thing. i saw a woman look once as though she could lose the whole world--and her own soul. she was a good woman. the man was bad--most: he never could be anything else. a look like that breaks the nerve. it is not amusing. in time the man goes to pieces. but before that comes he is apt to do strange things. eh-so!" he sat down, and, with his finger, wrote musingly in the dust upon the table. liddall looked keenly at him, and replied more brusquely than he felt: "do you think it fair to stay--fair to her?" "what if i should take her with me?" pierre flashed a keen, searching look after the words. "it would be useless devilry." "let us drink," said pierre, as he came to his feet quickly: "then for the house of lords" (the new and fashionable tavern). they separated in the street, and pierre went to the house of lords alone. he found a number of men gathered before a paper pasted on a pillar of the veranda. hearing his own name, he came nearer. a ranch man was reading aloud an article from a newspaper printed two hundred miles away. the article was headed, "a villainous plunderer." it had been written by someone at guidon hill. all that was discreditable in pierre's life it set forth with rude clearness; he was credited with nothing pardonable. in the crowd there were mutterings unmistakable to pierre. he suddenly came among them, caught a revolver from his pocket, and shot over the reader's shoulder six times into the pasted strip of newspaper. the men dropped back. they were not prepared for warlike measures at the moment. pierre leaned his back against the pillar and waited. his silence and coolness, together with an iron fierceness in his face, held them from instant demonstration against him; but he knew that he must face active peril soon. he pocketed his revolver and went up the hill to the house of kitty cline's mother. it was the first time he had ever been there. at the door he hesitated, but knocked presently, and was admitted by kitty, who, at sight of him, turned faint with sudden joy, and grasped the lintel to steady herself. pierre quietly caught her about the waist, and shut the door. she recovered, and gently disengaged herself. he made no further advance, and they stood looking at each other for a minute: he, as one who had come to look at something good he was never to see again; she, as at something she hoped to see for ever. they had never before been where no eyes could observe them. he ruled his voice to calmness. "i am going away," he said, "and i have come to say good-bye." her eyes never wavered from his. her voice was scarce above a whisper. "why do you go? where are you going?" "i have been here too long. i am what they call a villain and a plunderer. i am going to-mon dieu, i do not know!" he shrugged his shoulders, and smiled with a sort of helpless disdain. she leaned her hands on the table before her. her voice was still that low, clear murmur. "what people say doesn't matter." she staked her all upon her words. she must speak them, though she might hate herself afterwards. "are you going--alone?" "where i may have to go i must travel alone." he could not meet her eyes now; he turned his head away. he almost hoped she would not understand. "sit down," he added; "i want to tell you of my life." he believed that telling it as he should, she would be horror-stricken, and that the deep flame would die out of her eyes. neither he nor she knew how long they sat there, he telling with grim precision of the life he had led. her hands were clasped before her, and she shuddered once or twice, so that he paused; but she asked him firmly to go on. when all was told he stood up. he could not see her face, but he heard her say: "you have forgotten many things that were not bad. let me say them." she named things that would have done honour to a better man. he was standing in the moonlight that came through the window. she stepped forward, her hands quivering out to him. "oh, pierre," she said, "i know why you tell me this: but it makes no difference-none! i will go with you wherever you go." he caught her hands in his. she was stronger than he was now. her eyes mastered him. a low cry broke from him, and he drew her almost fiercely into his arms. "pierre! pierre!" was all she could say. he kissed her again and again upon the mouth. as he did so, he heard footsteps and muffled voices without. putting her quickly from him, he sprang towards the door, threw it open, closed it behind him, and drew his revolvers. a half-dozen men faced him. two bullets whistled by his head, and lodged in the door. then he fired swiftly, shot after shot, and three men fell. his revolvers were empty. there were three men left. the case seemed all against him now, but just here a shot, and then another, came from the window, and a fourth man fell. pierre sprang upon one, the other turned and ran. there was a short sharp struggle: then pierre rose up--alone. the girl stood in the doorway. "come, my dear," he said, you must go with me now." "yes, pierre," she cried, a mad light in her face, "i have killed men too--for you." together they ran down the hillside, and made for the stables of the fort. people were hurrying through the long street of the town, and torches were burning, but they came by a roundabout to the stables safely. pierre was about to enter, when a man came out. it was liddall. he kept his horses there, and he had saddled one, thinking that pierre might need it. there were quick words of explanation, and then, "must the girl go too?" he asked. "it will increase the danger--besides--" "i am going wherever he goes," she interrupted hoarsely. "i have killed men; he and i are the same now." without a word liddall turned back, threw a saddle on another horse, and led it out quickly. "which way?" he asked; "and where shall i find the horses?" "west to the mountains. the horses you will find at tete blanche hill, if we get there. if not, there is money under the white pine at my cottage. goodbye!" they galloped away. but there were mounted men in the main street, and one, well ahead of the others, was making towards the bridge over which they must pass. he reached it before they did, and set his horse crosswise in its narrow entrance. pierre urged his mare in front of the girl's, and drove straight at the head and shoulders of the obstructing horse. his was the heavier animal, and it bore the other down. the rider fired as he fell, but missed, and, in an instant, pierre and the girl were over. the fallen man fired the second time, but again missed. they had a fair start, but the open prairie was ahead of them, and there was no chance to hide. riding must do all, for their pursuers were in full cry. for an hour they rode hard. they could see their hunters not very far in the rear. suddenly pierre started and sniffed the air. "the prairie's on fire," he said exultingly, defiantly. almost as he spoke, clouds ran down the horizon, and then the sky lighted up. the fire travelled with incredible swiftness: they were hastening to meet it. it came on wave-like, hurrying down at the right and the left as if to close in on them. the girl spoke no word; she had no fear: what pierre did she would do. he turned round to see his pursuers: they had wheeled and were galloping back the way they came. his horse and hers were travelling neck and neck. he looked at her with an intense, eager gaze. "will you ride on?" he asked eagerly. "we are between two fires." he smiled, remembering his words to liddall. "ride on," she urged in a strong, clear voice, a kind of wild triumph in it. "you shall not go alone." there ran into his eyes now the same infinite look that had been in hers --that had conquered him. the flame rolling towards them was not brighter or hotter. "for heaven or hell, my girl!" he cried, and they drove their horses on --on. far behind upon a divide the flying hunters from guidon hill paused for a moment. they saw with hushed wonder and awe a man and woman, dark and weird against the red light, ride madly into the flickering surf of fire. etext editor's bookmarks: all humour in him had a strain of the sardonic in her heart she never can defy the world as does a man some wise men are fools, one way or another this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] northern lights by gilbert parker volume 3. when the swallows homeward fly george's wife marcile when the swallows homeward fly the arrogant sun had stalked away into the evening, trailing behind him banners of gold and crimson, and a swift twilight was streaming over the land. as the sun passed, the eyes of two men on a high hill followed it, and the look of one was like a light in a window to a lost traveller. it had in it the sense of home and the tale of a journey done. such a journey this man had made as few have ever attempted, and fewer accomplished. to the farthermost regions of snow and ice, where the shoulder of a continent juts out into the northwestern arctic seas, he had travelled on foot and alone, save for his dogs, and for indian guides, who now and then shepherded him from point to point. the vast ice-hummocks had been his housing, pemmican, the raw flesh of fish, and even the fat and oil of seals had been his food. ever and ever through long months the everlasting white glitter of the snow and ice, ever and ever the cold stars, the cloudless sky, the moon at full, or swung like a white sickle in the sky to warn him that his life must be mown like grass. at night to sleep in a bag of fur and wool, by day the steely wind, or the air shaking with a filmy powder of frost; while the illimitably distant sun made the tiny flakes sparkle like silver--a poudre day, when the face and hands are most like to be frozen, and all so still and white and passionless, yet aching with energy. hundreds upon hundreds of miles that endless trail went winding to the farthest north-west. no human being had ever trod its lengths before, though indians or a stray hudson's bay company man had made journeys over part of it during the years that have passed since prince rupert sent his adventurers to dot that northern land with posts and forts, and trace fine arteries of civilisation through the wastes. where this man had gone none other had been of white men from the western lands, though from across the wide pacific, from the eastern world, adventurers and exiles had once visited what is now known as the yukon valley. so this man, browsing in the library of his grandfather, an eastern scholar, had come to know; and for love of adventure, and because of the tale of a valley of gold and treasure to be had, and because he had been ruined by bad investments, he had made a journey like none ever essayed before. and on his way up to those regions, where the veil before the face of god is very thin and fine, and men's hearts glow within them, where there was no oasis save the unguessed deposit of a great human dream that his soul could feel, the face of a girl had haunted him. her voice--so sweet a voice that it rang like muffled silver in his ears, till, in the everlasting theatre of the pole, the stars seemed to repeat it through millions of echoing hills, growing softer and softer as the frost hushed it to his ears-had said to him late and early, "you must come back with the swallows." then she had sung a song which had been like a fire in his heart, not alone because of the words of it, but because of the soul in her voice, and it had lain like a coverlet on his heart to keep it warm: "adieu! the sun goes awearily down, the mist creeps up o'er the sleepy town, the white sail bends to the shuddering mere, and the reapers have reaped and the night is here. adieu! and the years are a broken song, the right grows weak in the strife with wrong, the lilies of love have a crimson stain, and the old days never will come again. adieu! where the mountains afar are dim 'neath the tremulous tread of the seraphim, shall not our querulous hearts prevail, that have prayed for the peace of the holy grail. adieu! sometime shall the veil between the things that are and that might have been be folded back for our eyes to see, and the meaning of all shall be clear to me." it had been but an acquaintance of five days while he fitted out for his expedition, but in this brief time it had sunk deep into his mind that life was now a thing to cherish, and that he must indeed come back; though he had left england caring little if, in the peril and danger of his quest, he ever returned. he had been indifferent to his fate till he came to the valley of the saskatchewan, to the town lying at the foot of the maple hill beside the great northern stream, and saw the girl whose life was knit with the far north, whose mother's heart was buried in the great wastes where sir john franklin's expedition was lost; for her husband had been one of the ill-fated if not unhappy band of lovers of that civilisation for which they had risked all and lost all save immortality. hither the two had come after he had been cast away on the icy plains, and as the settlement had crept north, had gone north with it, always on the outer edge of house and field, ever stepping northward. here, with small income but high hearts and quiet souls, they had lived and laboured. and when this newcomer from the old land set his face northward to an unknown destination, the two women had prayed as the mother did in the old days when the daughter was but a babe at her knee, and it was not yet certain that franklin and his men had been cast away for ever. something in him, his great height, his strength of body, his clear, meditative eyes, his brave laugh, reminded her of him--her husband--who, like sir humphrey gilbert, had said that it mattered little where men did their duty, since god was always near to take or leave as it was his will. when bickersteth went, it was as though one they had known all their lives had passed; and the woman knew also that a new thought had been sown in her daughter's mind, a new door opened in her heart. and he had returned. he was now looking down into the valley where the village lay. far, far over, two days' march away, he could see the cluster of houses, and the glow of the sun on the tin spire of the little mission church where he had heard the girl and her mother sing, till the hearts of all were swept by feeling and ravished by the desire for "the peace of the holy grail." the village was, in truth, but a day's march away from him, but he was not alone, and the journey could not be hastened. beside him, his eyes also upon the sunset and the village, was a man in a costume half-trapper, half-indian, with bushy grey beard and massive frame, and a distant, sorrowful look, like that of one whose soul was tuned to past suffering. as he sat, his head sunk on his breast, his elbow resting on a stump of pine--the token of a progressive civilisation--his chin upon his hand, he looked like the figure of moses made immortal by michael angelo. but his strength was not like that of the man beside him, who was thirty years younger. when he walked, it was as one who had no destination, who had no haven towards which to travel, who journeyed as one to whom the world is a wilderness, and one tent or one hut is the same as another, and none is home. like two ships meeting hull to hull on the wide seas, where a few miles of water will hide them from each other, whose ports are thousands of miles apart, whose courses are not the same, they two had met, the elder man, sick and worn, and near to death, in the poor hospitality of an indian's tepee. john bickersteth had nursed the old man back to strength, and had brought him southward with him--a silent companion, who spoke in monosyllables, who had no conversation at all of the past, and little of the present; but who was a woodsman and an arctic traveller of the most expert kind; who knew by instinct where the best places for shelter and for sleeping might be found; who never complained, and was wonderful with the dogs. close as their association was, bickersteth had felt concerning the other that his real self was in some other sphere or place towards which his mind was always turning, as though to bring it back. again and again had bickersteth tried to get the old man to speak about the past, but he had been met by a dumb sort of look, a straining to understand. once or twice the old man had taken his hands in both of his own, and gazed with painful eagerness into his face, as though trying to remember or to comprehend something that eluded him. upon these occasions the old man's eyes dropped tears in an apathetic quiet, which tortured bickersteth beyond bearing. just such a look he had seen in the eyes of a favourite dog when he had performed an operation on it to save its life--a reproachful, non-comprehending, loving gaze. bickersteth understood a little of the chinook language, which is familiar to most indian tribes, and he had learned that the indians knew nothing exact concerning the old man; but rumours had passed from tribe to tribe that this white man had lived for ever in the farthest north among the arctic tribes, and that he passed from people to people, disappearing into the untenanted wilderness, but reappearing again among stranger tribes, never resting, and as one always seeking what he could not find. one thing had helped this old man in all his travels and sojourning. he had, as it seemed to the native people, a gift of the hands; for when they were sick, a few moments' manipulation of his huge, quiet fingers vanquished pain. a few herbs he gave in tincture, and these also were praised; but it was a legend that when he was persuaded to lay on his hands and close his eyes, and with his fingers to "search for the pain and find it, and kill it," he always prevailed. they believed that though his body was on earth his soul was with manitou, and that it was his soul which came into him again, and gave the great spirit's healing to the fingers. this had been the man's safety through how many years-or how many generations--they did not know; for legends regarding the pilgrim had grown and were fostered by the medicine men who, by giving him great age and supernatural power, could, with more self-respect, apologise for their own incapacity. so the years--how many it was impossible to tell, since he did not know or would not say--had gone on; and now, after ceaseless wandering, his face was turned towards that civilisation out of which he had come so long ago--or was it so long ago--one generation, or two, or ten? it seemed to bickersteth at times as though it were ten, so strange, so unworldly was his companion. at first he thought that the man remembered more than he would appear to acknowledge, but he found that after a day or two everything that happened as they journeyed was also forgotten. it was only visible things, or sounds, that appeared to open the doors of memory of the most recent happenings. these happenings, if not varied, were of critical moment, since, passing down from the land of unchanging ice and snow, they had come into march and april storms, and the perils of the rapids and the swollen floods of may. now, in june, two years and a month since bickersteth had gone into the wilds, they looked down upon the goal of one at least--of the younger man who had triumphed in his quest up in these wilds abandoned centuries ago. with the joyous thought in his heart, that he had discovered anew one of the greatest gold-fields of the world, that a journey unparalleled had been accomplished, he turned towards his ancient companion, and a feeling of pity and human love enlarged within him. he, john bickersteth, was going into a world again, where--as he believed--a happy fate awaited him; but what of this old man? he had brought him out of the wilds, out of the unknown--was he only taking him into the unknown again? were there friends, any friends anywhere in the world waiting for him? he called himself by no name, he said he had no name. whence came he? of whom? whither was he wending now? bickersteth had thought of the problem often, and he had no answer for it save that he must be taken care of, if not by others, then by himself; for the old man had saved him from drowning; had also saved him from an awful death on a march day when he fell into a great hole and was knocked insensible in the drifting snow; had saved him from brooding on himself--the beginning of madness-by compelling him to think for another. and sometimes, as he had looked at the old man, his imagination had caught the spirit of the legend of the indians, and he had cried out, "o soul, come back and give him memory--give him back his memory, manitou the mighty!" looking on the old man now, an impulse seized him. "dear old man," he said, speaking as one speaks to a child that cannot understand, "you shall never want, while i have a penny, or have head or hands to work. but is there no one that you care for or that cares for you, that you remember, or that remembers you?" the old man shook his head though not with understanding, and he laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, and whispered: "once it was always snow, but now it is green, the land. i have seen it --i have seen it once." his shaggy eyebrows gathered over, his eyes searched, searched the face of john bickersteth. "once, so long ago-i cannot think," he added helplessly. "dear old man," bickersteth said gently, knowing he would not wholly comprehend, "i am going to ask her--alice--to marry me, and if she does, she will help look after you, too. neither of us would have been here without the other, dear old man, and we shall not be separated. whoever you are, you are a gentleman, and you might have been my father or hers --or hers." he stopped suddenly. a thought had flashed through his mind, a thought which stunned him, which passed like some powerful current through his veins, shocked him, then gave him a palpitating life. it was a wild thought, but yet why not--why not? there was the chance, the faint, far-off chance. he caught the old man by the shoulders, and looked him in the eyes, scanned his features, pushed back the hair from the rugged forehead. "dear old man," he said, his voice shaking, "do you know what i'm thinking? i'm thinking that you may be of those who went out to the arctic sea with sir john franklin--with sir john franklin, you understand. did you know sir john franklin--is it true, dear old boy, is it true? are you one that has lived to tell the tale? did you know sir john franklin--is it--tell me, is it true?" he let go the old man's shoulders, for over the face of the other there had passed a change. it was strained and tense. the hands were outstretched, the eyes were staring straight into the west and the coming night. "it is--it is--that's it!" cried bickersteth. "that's it--love o' god, that's it! sir john franklin--sir john franklin, and all the brave lads that died up there! you remember the ship--the arctic sea--the icefields, and franklin--you remember him? dear old man, say you remember franklin?" the thing had seized him. conviction was upon him, and he watched the other's anguished face with anguish and excitement in his own. but--but it might be, it might be her father--the eyes, the forehead are like hers; the hands, the long hands, the pointed fingers. "come, tell me, did you have a wife and child, and were they both called alice--do you remember? franklin--alice! do you remember?" the other got slowly to his feet, his arms outstretched, the look in his face changing, understanding struggling for its place, memory fighting for its own, the soul contending for its mastery. "franklin--alice--the snow," he said confusedly, and sank down. "god have mercy!" cried bickersteth, as he caught the swaying body, and laid it upon the ground. "he was there--almost." he settled the old man against the great pine stump and chafed his hands. "man, dear man, if you belong to her--if you do, can't you see what it will mean to me? she can't say no to me then. but if it's true, you'll belong to england and to all the world, too, and you'll have fame everlasting. i'll have gold for her and for you, and for your alice, too, poor old boy. wake up now and remember if you are luke allingham who went with franklin to the silent seas of the pole. if it's you, really you, what wonder you lost your memory! you saw them all die, franklin and all, die there in the snow, with all the white world round them. if you were there, what a travel you have had, what strange things you have seen! where the world is loneliest, god lives most. if you get close to the heart of things, it's no marvel you forgot what you were, or where you came from; because it didn't matter; you knew that you were only one of thousands of millions who have come and gone, that make up the soul of things, that make the pulses of the universe beat. that's it, dear old man. the universe would die, if it weren't for the souls that leave this world and fill it with life. wake up! wake up, allingham, and tell us where you've been and what you've seen." he did not labour in vain. slowly consciousness came back, and the grey eyes opened wide, the lips smiled faintly under the bushy beard; but bickersteth saw that the look in the face was much the same as it had been before. the struggle had been too great, the fight for the other lost self had exhausted him, mind and body, and only a deep obliquity and a great weariness filled the countenance. he had come back to the verge, he had almost again discovered himself; but the opening door had shut fast suddenly, and he was back again in the night, the incompanionable night of forgetfulness. bickersteth saw that the travail and strife had drained life and energy, and that he must not press the mind and vitality of this exile of time and the unknown too far. he felt that when the next test came the old man would either break completely, and sink down into another and everlasting forgetfulness, or tear away forever the veil between himself and his past, and emerge into a long-lost life. his strength must be shepherded, and he must be kept quiet and undisturbed until they came to the town yonder in the valley, over which the night was slowly settling down. there two women waited, the two alices, from both of whom had gone lovers into the north. the daughter was living over again in her young love the pangs of suspense through which her mother had passed. two years since bickersteth had gone, and not a sign! yet, if the girl had looked from her bedroom window, this friday night, she would have seen on the far hill a sign; for there burned a fire beside which sat two travellers who had come from the uttermost limits of snow. but as the fire burned--a beacon to her heart if she had but known it--she went to her bed, the words of a song she had sung at choir-practice with tears in her voice and in her heart ringing in her ears. a concert was to be held after the service on the coming sunday night, at which there was to be a collection for funds to build another missionhouse a hundred miles farther north, and she had been practising music she was to sing. her mother had been an amateur singer of great power, and she was renewing her mother's gift in a voice behind which lay a hidden sorrow. as she cried herself to sleep the words of the song which had moved her kept ringing in her ears and echoing in her heart: "when the swallows homeward fly, and the roses' bloom is o'er--" but her mother, looking out into the night, saw on the far hill the fire, burning like a star, where she had never seen a fire set before, and a hope shot into her heart for her daughter--a hope that had flamed up and died down so often during the past year. yet she had fanned with heartening words every such glimmer of hope when it came, and now she went to bed saying, "perhaps he will come to-morrow." in her mind, too, rang the words of the song which had ravished her ears that night, the song she had sung the night before her own husband, luke allingham, had gone with franklin to the polar seas: "when the swallows homeward fly--" as she and her daughter entered the little church on the sunday evening, two men came over the prairie slowly towards the town, and both raised their heads to the sound of the church-bell calling to prayer. in the eyes of the younger man there was a look which has come to many in this world returning from hard enterprise and great dangers, to the familiar streets, the friendly faces of men of their kin and clan-to the lights of home. the face of the older man, however, had another look. it was such a look as is seldom seen in the faces of men, for it showed the struggle of a soul to regain its identity. the words which the old man had uttered in response to bickersteth's appeal before he fainted away, "franklin--alice--the snow," had showed that he was on the verge; the bells of the church pealing in the summer air brought him near it once again. how many years had gone since he had heard church-bells? bickersteth, gazing at him in eager scrutiny, wondered if, after all, he might be mistaken about him. but no, this man had never been born and bred in the far north. his was a type which belonged to the civilisation from which he himself had come. there would soon be the test of it all. yet he shuddered, too, to think what might happen if it was all true, and discovery or reunion should shake to the centre the very life of the two long-parted ones. he saw the look of perplexed pain and joy at once in the face of the old man, but he said nothing, and he was almost glad when the bell stopped. the old man turned to him. "what is it?" he asked. "i remember--" but he stopped suddenly, shaking his head. an hour later, cleared of the dust of travel, the two walked slowly towards the church from the little tavern where they were lodged. the service was now over, but the concert had begun. the church was full, and there were people in the porch; but these made way for the two strangers; and, as bickersteth was recognised by two or three present, place was found for them. inside, the old man stared round him in a confused and troubled way, but his motions were quiet and abstracted and he looked like some old viking, his workaday life done, come to pray ere he went hence forever. they had entered in a pause in the concert, but now two ladies came forward to the chancel steps, and one with her hands clasped before her, began to sing: "when the swallows homeward fly, and the roses' bloom is o'er, and the nightingale's sweet song in the woods is heard no more--" it was alice--alice the daughter--and presently the mother, the other alice, joined in the refrain. at sight of them bickersteth's eyes had filled, not with tears, but with a cloud of feeling, so that he went blind. there she was, the girl he loved. her voice was ringing in his ears. in his own joy for one instant he had forgotten the old man beside him, and the great test that was now upon him. he turned quickly, however, as the old man got to his feet. for an instant the lost exile of the north stood as though transfixed. the blood slowly drained from his face, and in his eyes was an agony of struggle and desire. for a moment an awful confusion had the mastery, and then suddenly a clear light broke into his eyes, his face flushed healthily and shone, his arms went up, and there rang in his ears the words: "then i think with bitter pain, shall we ever meet again? when the swallows homeward fly--" "alice--alice!" he called, and tottered forward up the aisle, followed by john bickersteth. "alice, i have come back!" he cried again. george's wife "she's come, and she can go back. no one asked her, no one wants her, and she's got no rights here. she thinks she'll come it over me, but she'll get nothing, and there's no place for her here." the old, grey-bearded man, gnarled and angular, with overhanging brows and a harsh face, made this little speech of malice and unfriendliness, looking out on the snow-covered prairie through the window. far in the distance were a sleigh and horses like a spot in the snow, growing larger from minute to minute. it was a day of days. overhead, the sun was pouring out a flood of light and warmth, and though it was bitterly cold, life was beating hard in the bosom of the west. men walked lightly, breathed quickly, and their eyes were bright with the brightness of vitality and content. even the old man at the window of this lonely house, in a great lonely stretch of country, with the cedar hills behind it, had a living force which defied his seventy odd years, though the light in his face was hard and his voice was harder still. under the shelter of the foothills, cold as the day was, his cattle were feeding in the open, scratching away the thin layer of snow, and browsing on the tender grass underneath. an arctic world in appearance, it had an abounding life which made it friendly and generous--the harshness belonged to the surface. so, perhaps, it was with the old man who watched the sleigh in the distance coming nearer, but that in his nature on which any one could feed was not so easily reached as the fresh young grass under the protecting snow. "she'll get nothing out of me," he repeated, as the others in the room behind him made no remark, and his eyes ranged gloatingly over the cattle under the foothills and the buildings which he had gathered together to proclaim his substantial greatness in the west. "not a sous markee," he added, clinking some coins in his pocket. "she's got no rights." "cassy's got as much right here as any of us, abel, and she's coming to say it, i guess." the voice which spoke was unlike a western voice. it was deep and full and slow, with an organ-like quality. it was in good keeping with the tall, spare body and large, fine rugged face of the woman to whom it belonged. she sat in a rocking-chair, but did not rock, her fingers busy with the knitting-needles, her feet planted squarely on the home-made hassock at her feet. the old man waited for a minute in a painful silence, then he turned slowly round, and, with tight-pressed lips, looked at the woman in the rocking-chair. if it had been anyone else who had "talked back" at him, he would have made quick work of them, for he was of that class of tyrant who pride themselves on being self-made, and have an undue respect for their own judgment and importance. but the woman who had ventured to challenge his cold-blooded remarks about his dead son's wife, now hastening over the snow to the house her husband had left under a cloud eight years before, had no fear of him, and, maybe, no deep regard for him. he respected her, as did all who knew her--a very reticent, thoughtful, busy being, who had been like a well of comfort to so many that had drunk and passed on out of her life, out of time and time's experiences. seventy-nine years saw her still upstanding, strong, full of work, and fuller of life's knowledge. it was she who had sent the horses and sleigh for "gassy," when the old man, having read the letter that cassy had written him, said that she could "freeze at the station" for all of him. aunt kate had said nothing then, but, when the time came, by her orders the sleigh and horses were at the station; and the old man had made no direct protest, for she was the one person he had never dominated nor bullied. if she had only talked, he would have worn her down, for he was fond of talking, and it was said by those who were cynical and incredulous about him that he had gone to prayer-meetings, had been a local preacher, only to hear his own voice. probably if there had been any politics in the west in his day, he would have been a politician, though it would have been too costly for his taste, and religion was very cheap; it enabled him to refuse to join in many forms of expenditure, on the ground that he "did not hold by such things." in aunt kate, the sister of his wife, dead so many years ago, he had found a spirit stronger than his own. he valued her; he had said more than once, to those who he thought would never repeat it to her, that she was a "great woman"; but self-interest was the mainspring of his appreciation. since she had come again to his house--she had lived with him once before for two years when his wife was slowly dying--it had been a different place. housekeeping had cost less than before, yet the cooking was better, the place was beautifully clean, and discipline without rigidity reigned everywhere. one by one the old woman's boys and girls had died--four of them--and she was now alone, with not a single grandchild left to cheer her; and the life out here with abel baragar had been unrelieved by much that was heartening to a woman; for black andy, abel's son, was not an inspiring figure, though even his moroseness gave way under her influence. so it was that when cassy's letter came, her breast seemed to grow warmer, and swell with longing to see the wife of her nephew, who had such a bad reputation in abel's eyes, and to see george's little boy, who was coming too. after all, whatever cassy was, she was the mother of abel's son's son; and aunt kate was too old and wise to be frightened by tales told of cassy or any one else. so, having had her own way so far regarding cassy's coming, she looked abel calmly in the eyes, over the gold-rimmed spectacles which were her dearest possession--almost the only thing of value she had. she was not afraid of abel's anger, and he knew it; but his eldest son, black andy, was present, and he must make a show of being master of the situation. "aunt kate," he said, "i didn't make a fuss about you sending the horses and sleigh for her, because women do fool things sometimes. i suppose curiosity got the best of you. anyhow, mebbe it's right cassy should find out, once for all, how things stand, and that they haven't altered since she took george away, and ruined his life, and sent him to his grave. that's why i didn't order mick back when i saw him going out with the team." "cassy mavor," interjected a third voice from a corner behind the great stove--"cassy mavor, of the variety-dance-and-song, and a talk with the gallery between!" aunt kate looked over at black andy, and stopped knitting, for there was that in the tone of the sullen ranchman which stirred in her a sudden anger, and anger was a rare and uncomfortable sensation to her. a flush crept slowly over her face, then it died away, and she said quietly to black andy--for she had ever prayed to be master of the demon of temper down deep in her, and she was praying now: "she earnt her living by singing and dancing, and she's brought up george's boy by it, and singing and dancing isn't a crime. david danced before the lord. i danced myself when i was a young girl, and before i joined the church. 'twas about the only pleasure i ever had; 'bout the only one i like to remember. there's no difference to me 'twixt making your feet handy and clever and full of music, and playing with your fingers on the piano or on a melodeon at a meeting. as for singing, it's god's gift; and many a time i wisht i had it. i'd have sung the blackness out of your face and heart, andy." she leaned back again and began to knit very fast. "i'd like to hear cassy sing, and see her dance too." black andy chuckled coarsely, "i often heard her sing and saw her dance down at lumley's before she took george away east. you wouldn't have guessed she had consumption. she knocked the boys over down to lumley's. the first night at lumley's done for george." black andy's face showed no lightening of its gloom as he spoke, but there was a firing up of the black eyes, and the woman with the knitting felt that--for whatever reason--he was purposely irritating his father. "the devil was in her heels and in her tongue," andy continued. "with her big mouth, red hair, and little eyes, she'd have made anybody laugh. i laughed." "you laughed!" snapped out his father with a sneer. black andy's eyes half closed with a morose look, then he went on. "yes, i laughed at cassy. while she was out here at lumley's getting cured, accordin' to the doctor's orders, things seemed to get a move on in the west. but it didn't suit professing christians like you, dad." he jerked his head towards the old man and drew the spittoon near with his feet. "the west hasn't been any worse off since she left," snarled the old man. "well, she took george with her," grimly retorted black andy. abel baragar's heart had been warmer towards his dead son george than to any one else in the world. george had been as fair of face and hair as andrew was dark; as cheerful and amusing as andrew was gloomy and dispiriting; as agile and dexterous of mind and body as his brother was slow and angular; as emotional and warm-hearted as the other was phlegmatic and sour--or so it seemed to the father and to nearly all others. in those old days they had not been very well off. the railway was not completed, and the west had not begun "to move." the old man had bought and sold land and cattle and horses, always living on a narrow margin of safety, but in the hope that one day the choice bits of land he was shepherding here and there would take a leap up in value; and his judgment had been right. his prosperity had all come since george went away with cassy mavor. his anger at george had been the more acute, because the thing happened at a time when his affairs were on the edge of a precipice. he had won through it, but only by the merest shave, and it had all left him with a bad spot in his heart, in spite of his "having religion." whenever he remembered george, he instinctively thought of those black days when a land and cattle syndicate was crowding him over the edge into the chasm of failure, and came so near doing it. a few thousand dollars less to put up here and there, and he would have been ruined; his blood became hotter whenever he thought of it. he had had to fight the worst of it through alone, for george, who had been useful as a kind of buyer and seller, who was ever all things to all men, and ready with quip and jest, and not a little uncertain as to truth--to which the old man shut his eyes when there was a "deal" on--had, in the end, been of no use at all, and had seemed to go to pieces just when he was most needed. his father had put it all down to cassy mavor, who had unsettled things since she had come to lumley's, and being a man of very few ideas, he cherished those he had with an exaggerated care. prosperity had not softened him; it had given him an arrogance unduly emphasised by a reputation for rigid virtue and honesty. the indirect attack which andrew now made on george's memory roused him to anger, as much because it seemed to challenge his own judgment as cast a slight on the name of the boy whom he had cast off, yet who had a firmer hold on his heart than any human being ever had. it had only been pride which had prevented him from making it up with george before it was too late; but, all the more, he was set against the woman who "kicked up her heels for a living"; and, all the more, he resented black andy, who, in his own grim way, had managed to remain a partner with him in their present prosperity, and had done so little for it. "george helped to make what you've got, andy," he said darkly now. "the west missed george. the west said, 'there was a good man ruined by a woman.' the west'd never think anything or anybody missed you, 'cept yourself. when you went north, it never missed you; when you come back, its jaw fell. you wasn't fit to black george's boots." black andy's mouth took on a bitter sort of smile, and his eyes drooped furtively, as he struck the damper of the stove heavily with his foot, then he replied slowly: "well, that's all right; but if i wasn't fit to black his boots, it ain't my fault. i git my nature honest, as he did. we wasn't any crossbreeds, i s'pose. we got the strain direct, and we was all right on her side." he jerked his head towards aunt kate, whose face was growing pale. she interposed now. "can't you leave the dead alone?" she asked in a voice ringing a little. "can't you let them rest? ain't it enough to quarrel about the living? cassy'll be here soon," she added, peering out of the window, "and if i was you, i'd try and not make her sorry she ever married a baragar. it ain't a feeling that'd make a sick woman live long." aunt kate did not strike often, but when she did, she struck hard. abel baragar staggered a little under this blow, for, at the moment, it seemed to him that he saw his dead wife's face looking at him from the chair where her sister now sat. down in his ill-furnished heart, where there had been little which was companionable, there was a shadowed corner. sophy baragar had been such a true-hearted, brave-souled woman, and he had been so impatient and exacting with her, till the beautiful face, which had been reproduced in george, had lost its colour and its fire, had become careworn and sweet with that sweetness which goes early out of the world. in all her days the vanished wife had never hinted at as much as aunt kate suggested now, and abel baragar shut his eyes against the thing which he was seeing. he was not all hard, after all. aunt kate turned to black andy now. "mebbe cassy ain't for long," she said. "mebbe she's come out for what she came out for before. it seems to me it's that, or she wouldn't have come; because she's young yet, and she's fond of her boy, and she'd not want to bury herself alive out here with us. mebbe her lungs is bad again." "then she's sure to get another husband out here," said the old man, recovering himself. "she got one before easy, on the same ticket." with something of malice he looked over at black andy. "if she can sing and dance as she done nine years ago, i shouldn't wonder," answered black andy smoothly. these two men knew each other; they had said hard things to each other for many a year, yet they lived on together unshaken by each other's moods and bitternesses. "i'm getting old,--i'm seventy-nine,--and i ain't for long," urged aunt kate, looking abel in the eyes. "some day soon i'll be stepping out and away. then things'll go to sixes and sevens, as they did after sophy died. some one ought to be here that's got a right to be here, not a hired woman." suddenly the old man raged out. "her--off the stage, to look after this! her, that's kicked up her heels for a living! it's--no, she's no good. she's common. she's come, and she can go. i ain't having sweepings from the streets living here as if they had rights." aunt kate set her lips. "sweepings! you've got to take that back, abel. it's not christian. you've got to take that back." "he'll take it back all right before we've done, i guess," remarked black andy. "he'll take a lot back." "truth's truth, and i'll stand by it, and--" the old man stopped, for there came to them now, clearly, the sound of sleigh bells. they all stood still for an instant, silent and attentive, then aunt kate moved towards the door. "cassy's come," she said. "cassy and george's boy've come." another instant and the door was opened on the beautiful, white, sparkling world, and the low sleigh, with its great warm buffalo robes, in which the small figures of a woman and a child were almost lost, stopped at the door. two whimsical but tired eyes looked over a rim of fur at the old woman in the doorway, then cassy's voice rang out. "hello, that's aunt kate, i know! well, here we are, and here's my boy. jump, george!" a moment later, and the gaunt old woman folded both mother and son in her arms and drew them into the room. the door was shut, and they all faced each other. the old man and black andy did not move, but stood staring at the trim figure in black, with the plain face, large mouth, and tousled red hair, and the dreamy-eyed, handsome little boy beside her. black andy stood behind the stove, looking over at the new-comers with quizzical, almost furtive eyes, and his father remained for a moment with mouth open, gazing at his dead son's wife and child, as though not quite comprehending the scene. the sight of the boy had brought back, in some strange, embarrassing way, a vision of thirty years before, when george was a little boy in buckskin pants and jacket, and was beginning to ride the prairie with him. this boy was like george, yet not like him. the face was george's, the sensuous, luxurious mouth; but the eyes were not those of a baragar, nor yet those of aunt kate's family; and they were not wholly like the mother's. they were full and brimming, while hers were small and whimsical; yet they had her quick, humourous flashes and her quaintness. "have i changed so much? have you forgotten me?" cassy asked, looking the old man in the eyes. "you look as strong as a bull." she held out her hand to him and laughed. "hope i see you well," said abel baragar mechanically, as he took the hand and shook it awkwardly. "oh, i'm all right," answered the nonchalant little woman, undoing her jacket. "shake hands with your grandfather, george. that's right--don't talk too much," she added, with a half-nervous little laugh, as the old man, with a kind of fixed smile, and the child shook hands in silence. presently she saw black andy behind the stove. "well, andy, have you been here ever since?" she asked, and, as he came forward, she suddenly caught him by both arms, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. "last time i saw you, you were behind the stove at lumley's. nothing's ever too warm for you," she added. "you'd be shivering on the equator. you were always hugging the stove at lumley's." "things was pretty warm there, too, cassy," he said, with a sidelong look at his father. she saw the look, her face flashed with sudden temper, then her eyes fell on her boy, now lost in the arms of aunt kate, and she curbed herself. "there were plenty of things doing at lumley's in those days," she said brusquely. "we were all young and fresh then," she added, and then something seemed to catch her voice, and she coughed a little--a hard, dry, feverish cough. "are the lumleys all right? are they still there, at the forks?" she asked, after the little paroxysm of coughing. "cleaned out--all scattered. we own the lumleys' place now," replied black andy, with another sidelong glance at his father, who, as he put some more wood on the fire and opened the damper of the stove wider, grimly watched and listened. "jim, and lance, and jerry, and abner?" she asked almost abstractedly. "jim's dead-shot by a u. s. marshal by mistake for a smuggler," answered black andy suggestively. "lance is up on the yukon, busted; jerry is one of our, hands on the place; and abner is in jail." "abner-in jail!" she exclaimed in a dazed way. "what did he do? abner always seemed so straight." "oh, he sloped with a thousand dollars of the railway people's money. they caught him, and he got seven years." "he was married, wasn't he?" she asked in a low voice. "yes, to phenie tyson. there's no children, so she's all right, and divorce is cheap over in the states, where she is now." "phenie tyson didn't marry abner because he was a saint, but because he was a man, i suppose," she replied gravely. "and the old folks?" "both dead. what abner done sent the old man to his grave. but abner's mother died a year before." "what abner done killed his father," said abel baragar with dry emphasis. "phenie tyson was extravagant-wanted this and that, and nothin' was too good for her. abner spoilt his life gettin' her what she wanted; and it broke old ezra lumley's heart." george's wife looked at him for a moment with her eyes screwed up, and then she laughed softly. "my, it's curious how some folks go up and some go down! it must be lonely for phenie waiting all these years for abner to get free. . . . i had the happiest time in my life at lumley's. i was getting better of my-cold. while i was there i got lots of strength stored up, to last me many a year when i needed it; and, then, george and i were married at lumley's. . . ." aunt kate came slowly over with the boy, and laid a hand on cassy's shoulder, for there was an undercurrent to the conversation which boded no good. the very first words uttered had plunged abel baragar and his son's wife into the midst of the difficulty which she had hoped might, after all, be avoided. "come, and i'll show you your room, cassy," she said. "it faces south, and you'll get the sun all day. it's like a sun-parlour. we're going to have supper in a couple of hours, and you must rest some first. is the house warm enough for you?" the little, garish woman did not reply directly, but shook back her red hair and caught her boy to her breast and kissed him; then she said in that staccato manner which had given her words on the stage such point and emphasis, "oh, this house is a'most too warm for me, aunt kate!" then she moved towards the door with the grave, kindly old woman, her son's hand in her own. "you can see the lumleys' place from your window, cassy," said black andy grimly. "we got a mortgage on it, and foreclosed it, and it's ours now; and jerry lumley's stock-riding for us. anyhow, he's better off than abner, or abner's wife." cassy turned at the door and faced him. instinctively she caught at some latent conflict with old abel baragar in what black andy had said, and her face softened, for it suddenly flashed into her mind that he was not against her. "i'm glad to be back west," she said. "it meant a lot to me when i was at lumley's." she coughed a little again, but turned to the door with a laugh. "how long have you come to stay here--out west?" asked the old man furtively. "why, there's plenty of time to think of that!" she answered brusquely, and she heard black andy laugh derisively as the door closed behind her. in a blaze of joy the sun swept down behind the southern hills, and the windows of lumley's house at the forks, catching the oblique rays, glittered and shone like flaming silver. nothing of life showed, save the cattle here and there, creeping away to the shelter of the foothills for the night. the white, placid snow made a coverlet as wide as the vision of the eye, save where spruce and cedar trees gave a touch of warmth and refuge here and there. a wonderful, buoyant peace seemed to rest upon the wide, silent expanse. the birds of song were gone south over the hills, and the living wild things of the prairies had stolen into winter quarters. yet, as cassy mavor looked out upon the exquisite beauty of the scene, upon the splendid outspanning of the sun along the hills, the deep plangent blue of the sky and the thrilling light, she saw a world in agony and she heard the moans of the afflicted. the sun shone bright on the windows of lumley's house, but she could hear the crying of abner's wife, and of old ezra and eliza lumley, when their children were stricken or shamed; when abel baragar drew tighter and tighter the chains of the mortgage, which at last made them tenants in the house once their own. only eight years ago, and all this had happened. and what had not happened to her, too, in those eight years! with george--reckless, useless, loving, lying george--she had left lumley's with her sickness cured, as it seemed, after a long year in the west, and had begun life again. what sort of life had it been? "kicking up her heels on the stage," as abel baragar had said; but, somehow, not as it was before she went west to give her perforated lung to the healing air of the plains, and to live outdoors with the men--a man's life. then she had never put a curb on her tongue, or greatly on her actions, except that, though a hundred men quarrelled openly, or in their own minds, about her, no one had ever had any right to quarrel about her. with a tongue which made men gasp with laughter, with as comic a gift as ever woman had, and as equally comic a face, she had been a good-natured little tyrant in her way. she had given a kiss here and there, and had taken one, but always there had been before her mind the picture of a careworn woman who struggled to bring up her three children honestly, and without the help of charity, and, with a sigh of content and weariness, had died as cassy made her first hit on the stage and her name became a household word. and cassy, garish, gay, freckled, witty and whimsical, had never forgotten those days when her mother prayed and worked her heart out to do her duty by her children. cassy mavor had made her following, had won her place, was the idol of "the gallery"; and yet she was "of the people," as she had always been, until her first sickness came, and she had gone out to lumley's, out along the foothills of the rockies. what had made her fall in love with george baragar? she could not have told, if she had been asked. he was wayward, given to drink at times, given also to card-playing and racing; but he had a way with him which few women could resist and which made men his friends; and he had a sense of humour akin to her own. in any case, one day she let him catch her up in his arms, and there was the end of it. but no, not the end, after all. it was only the beginning of real life for her. all that had gone before seemed but playing on the threshold, though it had meant hard, bitter hard work, and temptation, and patience, and endurance of many kinds. and now george was gone for ever. but george's little boy lay there on the bed in a soft sleep, with all his life before him. she turned from the warm window and the buoyant, inspiring scene to the bed. stooping over, she kissed the sleeping boy with an abrupt eagerness, and made a little awkward, hungry gesture of love over him, and her face flushed hot with the passion of motherhood in her. "all i've got now," she murmured. "nothing else left--nothing else at all." she heard the door open behind her, and she turned round. aunt kate was entering with a bowl in her hands. "i heard you moving about, and i've brought you something hot to drink," she said. "that's real good of you, aunt kate," was the cheerful reply. "but it's near supper-time, and i don't need it." "it's boneset tea--for your cold," answered aunt kate gently, and put it on the high dressing-table made of a wooden box and covered with muslin. "for your cold, cassy," she repeated. the little woman stood still a moment gazing at the steaming bowl, lines growing suddenly around her mouth, then she looked at aunt kate quizzically. "is my cold bad--so bad that i need boneset?" she asked in a queer, constrained voice. "it's comforting, is boneset tea, even when there's no cold, 'specially when the whiskey's good, and the boneset and camomile has steeped some days." "have you been steeping them some days?" cassy asked softly, eagerly. aunt kate nodded, then tried to explain. "it's always good to be prepared, and i didn't know but what the cold you used to have might be come back," she said. "but i'm glad if it ain't, if that cough of yours is only one of the measly little hacks people get in the east, where it's so damp." cassy was at the window again, looking out at the dying radiance of the sun. her voice seemed hollow and strange and rather rough, as she said in reply: "it's a real cold, deep down, the same as i had nine years ago, aunt kate; and it's come to stay, i guess. that's why i came back west. but i couldn't have gone to lumley's again, even if they were at the forks now, for i'm too poor. i'm a back-number now. i had to give up singing and dancing a year ago, after george died. so i don't earn my living any more, and i had to come to george's father with george's boy." aunt kate had a shrewd mind, and it was tactful, too. she did not understand why cassy, who had earned so much money all these years, should be so poor now, unless it was that she hadn't saved--that she and george hadn't saved. but, looking at the face before her, and the child on the bed, she was convinced that the woman was a good woman, that, singer and dancer as she was, there was no reason why any home should be closed to her, or any heart should shut its doors before her. she guessed a reason for this poverty of cassy mavor, but it only made her lay a hand on the little woman's shoulders and look into her eyes. "cassy," she said gently, "you was right to come here. there's trials before you, but for the boy's sake you must bear them. sophy, george's mother, had to bear them, and abel was fond of her, too, in his way. he's stored up a lot of things to say, and he'll say them; but you'll keep the boy in your mind, and be patient, won't you, cassy? you got rights here, and it's comfortable, and there's plenty, and the air will cure your lung as it did before. it did all right before, didn't it?" she handed the bowl of boneset tea. "take it; it'll do you good, cassy," she added. cassy said nothing in reply. she looked at the bed where her boy lay, she looked at the angular face of the woman, with its brooding motherliness, at the soft, grey hair, and, with a little gasp of feeling, she raised the bowl to her lips and drank freely. then, putting it down, she said: "he doesn't mean to have us, aunt kate, but i'll try and keep my temper down. did he ever laugh in his life?" "he laughs sometimes--kind o' laughs." "i'll make him laugh real, if i can," cassy rejoined. "i've made a lot of people laugh in my time." the old woman leaned suddenly over, and drew the red, ridiculous head to her shoulder with a gasp of affection, and her eyes were full of tears. "cassy," she exclaimed, "cassy, you make me cry." then she turned and hurried from the room. three hours later the problem was solved in the big sitting-room where cassy had first been received with her boy. aunt kate sat with her feet on a hassock, rocking gently and watching and listening. black andy was behind the great stove with his chair tilted back, carving the bowl of a pipe; the old man sat rigid by the table, looking straight before him and smacking his lips now and then as he was won't to do at meeting; while cassy, with her chin in her hands and elbows on her knees, gazed into the fire and waited for the storm to break. her little flashes of humour at dinner had not brightened things, and she had had an insane desire to turn cart-wheels round the room, so implacable and highly strained was the attitude of the master of the house, so unctuous was the grace and the thanksgiving before and after the meal. abel baragar had stored up his anger and his righteous antipathy for years, and this was the first chance he had had of visiting his displeasure on the woman who had "ruined" george, and who had now come to get "rights," which he was determined she should not have. he had steeled himself against seeing any good in her whatever. self-will, self-pride, and self-righteousness were big in him, and so the supper had ended in silence, and with a little attack of coughing on the part of cassy, which made her angry at herself. then the boy had been put to bed, and she had come back to await the expected outburst. she could feel it in the air, and while her blood tingled in a desire to fight this tyrant to the bitter end, she thought of her boy and his future, and she calmed the tumult in her veins. she did not have to wait very long. the querulous voice of the old man broke the silence. "when be you goin' back east? what time did you fix for goin'?" he asked. she raised her head and looked at him squarely. "i didn't fix any time for going east again," she replied. "i came out west this time to stay." "i thought you was on the stage," was the rejoinder. "i've left the stage. my voice went when i got a bad cold again, and i couldn't stand the draughts of the theatre, and so i couldn't dance, either. i'm finished with the stage. i've come out here for good and all. "where did you think of livin' out here?" "i'd like to have gone to lumley's, but that's not possible, is it? anyway, i couldn't afford it now. so i thought i'd stay here, if there was room for me." "you want to board here?" "i didn't put it to myself that way. i thought perhaps you'd be glad to have me. i'm handy. i can cook, i can sew, and i'm quite cheerful and kind. then there's george--little george. i thought you'd like to have your grandson here with you." "i've lived without him--or his father--for eight years, an' i could bear it a while yet, mebbe." there was a half-choking sound from the old woman in the rocking-chair, but she did not speak, though her knitting dropped into her lap. "but if you knew us better, perhaps you'd like us better," rejoined cassy gently. "we're both pretty easy to get on with, and we see the bright side of things. he has a wonderful disposition, has george." "i ain't goin' to like you any better," said the old man, getting to his feet. "i ain't goin' to give you any rights here. i've thought it out, and my mind's made up. you can't come it over me. you ruined my boy's life and sent him to his grave. he'd have lived to be an old man out here; but you spoiled him. you trapped him into marrying you, with your kicking and your comic songs, and your tricks of the stage, and you parted us--parted him and me for ever." "that was your fault. george wanted to make it up." "with you!" the old man's voice rose shrilly, the bitterness and passion of years was shooting high in the narrow confines of his mind. the geyser of his prejudice and antipathy was furiously alive. "to come back with you that ruined him and broke up my family, and made my life like bitter aloes! no! and if i wouldn't have him with you, do you think i'll have you without him? by the god of israel, no!" black andy was now standing up behind the stove intently watching, his face grim and sombre; aunt kate sat with both hands gripping the arms of the rocker. cassy got slowly to her feet. "i've been as straight a woman as your mother or your wife ever was," she said, "and all the world knows it. i'm poor--and i might have been rich. i was true to myself before i married george, and i was true to george after, and all i earned he shared; and i've got little left. the mining stock i bought with what i saved went smash, and i'm poor as i was when i started to work for myself. i can work awhile yet, but i wanted to see if i could fit in out here, and get well again, and have my boy fixed in the house of his grandfather. that's the way i'm placed, and that's how i came. but give a dog a bad name--ah, you shame your dead boy in thinking bad of me! i didn't ruin him. i didn't kill him. he never came to any bad through me. i helped him; he was happy. why, i--" she stopped suddenly, putting a hand to her mouth. "go on, say what you want to say, and let's understand once for all," she added with a sudden sharpness. abel baragar drew himself up. "well, i say this. i'll give you three thousand dollars, and you can go somewhere else to live. i'll keep the boy here. that's what i've fixed in my mind to do. you can go, and the boy stays. i ain't goin' to live with you that spoiled george's life." the eyes of the woman dilated, she trembled with a sudden rush of anger, then stood still, staring in front of her without a word. black andy stepped from behind the stove. "you are going to stay here, cassy," he said; "here where you have rights as good as any, and better than any, if it comes to that." he turned to his father. "you thought a lot of george," he added. "he was the apple of your eye. he had a soft tongue, and most people liked him; but george was foolish--i've known it all these years. george was pretty foolish. he gambled, he bet at races, he speculated--wild. you didn't know it. he took ten thousand dollars of your money, got from the wonegosh farm he sold for you. he--" cassy mavor started forwards with a cry, but black andy waved her down. "no, i'm going to tell it. george lost your ten thousand dollars, dad, gambling, racing, speculating. he told her--cassy-two days after they was married, and she took the money she earned on the stage, and give it to him to pay you back on the quiet through the bank. you never knew, but that's the kind of boy your son george was, and that's the kind of wife he had. george told me all about it when i was east six years ago." he came over to cassy and stood beside her. "i'm standing by george's wife," he said, taking her hand, while she shut her eyes in her misery-had she not hid her husband's wrong-doing all these years? "i'm standing by her. if it hadn't been for that ten thousand dollars she paid back for george, you'd have been swamped when the syndicate got after you, and we wouldn't have had lumley's place, nor this, nor anything. i guess she's got rights here, dad, as good as any." the old man sank slowly into a chair. "george--george stole from me-stole money from me!" he whispered. his face was white. his pride and vainglory were broken. he was a haggard, shaken figure. his selfrighteousness was levelled in the dust. with sudden impulse, cassy stole over to him, and took his hand and held it tight. "don't! don't feel so bad!" she said. "he was weak and wild then. but he was all right afterwards. he was happy with me." "i've owed cassy this for a good many years, dad," said black andy, "and it had to be paid. she's got better stuff in her than any baragar." ......................... an hour later, the old man said to cassy at the door of her room: "you got to stay here and git well. it's yours, the same as the rest of us --what's here." then he went downstairs and sat with aunt kate by the fire. "i guess she's a good woman," he said at last. "i didn't use her right." "you've been lucky with your women-folk," aunt kate answered quietly. "yes, i've been lucky," he answered. "i dunno if i deserve it. mebbe not. do you think she'll git well?" "it's a healing air out here," aunt kate answered, and listened to the wood of the house snapping in the sharp frost. marcile that the day was beautiful, that the harvest of the west had been a great one, that the salmon-fishing had been larger than ever before, that gold had been found in the yukon, made no difference to jacques grassette, for he was in the condemned cell of bindon jail, living out those days which pass so swiftly between the verdict of the jury and the last slow walk with the sheriff. he sat with his back to the stone wall, his hands on his knees, looking straight before him. all that met his physical gaze was another stone wall, but with his mind's eye he was looking beyond it into spaces far away. his mind was seeing a little house with dormer windows, and a steep roof on which the snow could not lodge in winter-time; with a narrow stoop in front where one could rest of an evening, the day's work done; the stone-and-earth oven near by in the open, where the bread for a family of twenty was baked; the wooden plough tipped against the fence, to wait the "fall" cultivation; the big iron cooler in which the sap from the maple trees was boiled, in the days when the snow thawed and spring opened the heart of the wood; the flash of the sickle and the scythe hard by; the fields of the little narrow farm running back from the st. lawrence like a riband; and, out on the wide stream, the great rafts with their riverine population floating down to michelin's mill-yards. for hours he had sat like this, unmoving, his gnarled red hands clamping each leg as though to hold him steady while he gazed; and he saw himself as a little lad, barefooted, doing chores, running after the shaggy, troublesome pony which would let him catch it when no one else could, and, with only a halter on, galloping wildly back to the farmyard, to be hitched up in the carriole which had once belonged to the old seigneur. he saw himself as a young man, back from "the states" where he had been working in the mills, regarded austerely by little father roche, who had given him his first communion--for, down in massachusetts he had learned to wear his curly hair plastered down on his forehead, smoke bad cigars, and drink "old bourbon," to bet and to gamble, and be a figure at horseraces. then he saw himself, his money all gone, but the luck still with him, at mass on the sunday before going to the backwoods lumber-camp for the winter, as boss of a hundred men. he had a way with him, and he had brains, had jacques grassette, and he could manage men, as michelin the lumber-king himself had found in a great river-row and strike, when bloodshed seemed certain. even now the ghost of a smile played at his lips, as he recalled the surprise of the old habitants and of father roche when he was chosen for this responsible post; for to run a great lumber-camp well, hundreds of miles from civilisation, where there is no visible law, no restraints of ordinary organised life, and where men, for seven months together, never saw a woman or a child, and ate pork and beans, and drank white whisky, was a task of administration as difficult as managing a small republic new-created out of violent elements of society. but michelin was right, and the old seigneur, sir henri robitaille, who was a judge of men, knew he was right, as did also hennepin the schoolmaster, whose despair jacques had been, for he never worked at his lessons as a boy, and yet he absorbed latin and mathematics by some sure but unexplainable process. "ah! if you would but work, jacques, you vaurien, i would make a great man of you," hennepin had said to him more than once; but this had made no impression on jacques. it was more to the point that the ground-hogs and black squirrels and pigeons were plentiful in casanac woods. and so he thought as he stood at the door of the church of st. francis on that day before going "out back" to the lumber-camp. he had reached the summit of greatness--to command men. that was more than wealth or learning, and as he spoke to the old seigneur going in to mass, he still thought so, for the seigneur's big house and the servants and the great gardens had no charm for him. the horses--that was another thing; but there would be plenty of horses in the lumber-camp; and, on the whole, he felt himself rather superior to the old seigneur, who now was lieutenantgovernor of the province in which lay bindon jail. at the door of the church of st. francis he had stretched himself up with good-natured pride, for he was by nature gregarious and friendly, but with a temper quick and strong, and even savage when roused; though michelin the lumber-king did not know that when he engaged him as boss, having seen him only at the one critical time, when his superior brain and will saw its chance to command, and had no personal interest in the strife. he had been a miracle of coolness then, and his six-foot-two of pride and muscle was taking natural tribute at the door of the church of st. francis, where he waited till nearly everyone had entered, and father roche's voice could be heard in the mass. then had happened the real event of his life: a blackeyed, rose-checked girl went by with her mother, hurrying in to mass. as she passed him their eyes met, and his blood leapt in his veins. he had never seen her before, and, in a sense, he had never seen any woman before. he had danced with many a one, and kissed a few in the old days among the flaxbeaters, at the harvesting, in the gaieties of a wedding, and also down in massachusetts. that, however, was a different thing, which he forgot an hour after; but this was the beginning of the world for him; for he knew now, of a sudden, what life was, what home meant, why "old folks" slaved for their children, and mothers wept when girls married or sons went away from home to bigger things; why in there, in at mass, so many were praying for all the people, and thinking only of one. all in a moment it came--and stayed; and he spoke to her, to marcile, that very night, and he spoke also to her father, valloir the farrier, the next morning by lamplight, before he started for the woods. he would not be gainsaid, nor take no for an answer, nor accept, as a reason for refusal, that she was only sixteen, and that he did not know her, for she had been away with a childless aunt since she was three. that she had fourteen brothers and sisters who had to be fed and cared for did not seem to weigh with the farrier. that was an affair of le bon dieu, and enough would be provided for them all as heretofore--one could make little difference; and though jacques was a very good match, considering his prospects and his favour with the lumber-king, valloir had a kind of fear of him, and could not easily promise his beloved marcile, the flower of his flock, to a man of whom the priest so strongly disapproved. but it was a new sort of jacques grassette who, that morning, spoke to him with the simplicity and eagerness of a child; and the suddenly conceived gift of a pony stallion, which every man in the parish envied jacques, won valloir over; and jacques went "away back" with the first timid kiss of marcile valloir burning on his cheek. "well, bagosh, you are a wonder!" said jacques' father, when he told him the news, and saw jacques jump into the carriole and drive away. here in prison, this, too, jacques saw--this scene; and then the wedding in the spring, and the tour through the parishes for days together, lads and lasses journeying with them; and afterwards the new home with a bigger stoop than any other in the village, with some old gnarled crabapple trees and lilac bushes, and four years of happiness, and a little child that died; and all the time jacques rising in the esteem of michelin the lumber-king, and sent on inspections, and to organise camps; for weeks, sometimes for months, away from the house behind the lilac bushes--and then the end of it all, sudden and crushing and unredeemable. jacques came back one night and found the house empty. marcile had gone to try her luck with another man. that was the end of the upward career of jacques grassette. he went out upon a savage hunt which brought him no quarry, for the man and the woman had disappeared as completely as though they had been swallowed by the sea. and here, at last, he was waiting for the day when he must settle a bill for a human life taken in passion and rage. his big frame seemed out of place in the small cell, and the watcher sitting near him, to whom he had not addressed a word nor replied to a question since the watching began, seemed an insignificant factor in the scene. never had a prisoner been more self-contained, or rejected more completely all those ministrations of humanity which relieve the horrible isolation of the condemned cell. grassette's isolation was complete. he lived in a dream, did what little there was to do in a dark abstraction, and sat hour after hour, as he was sitting now, piercing, with a brain at once benumbed to all outer things and afire with inward things, those realms of memory which are infinite in a life of forty years. "sacre!" he muttered at last, and a shiver seemed to pass through him from head to foot; then an ugly and evil oath fell from his lips, which made his watcher shrink back appalled, for he also was a catholic, and had been chosen of purpose, in the hope that he might have an influence on this revolted soul. it had, however, been of no use, and grassette had refused the advances and ministrations of the little good priest, father laflamme, who had come from the coast of purpose to give him the offices of the church. silent, obdurate, sullen, he had looked the priest straight in the face and had said in broken english, "non, i pay my bill. nom de diable, i will say my own mass, light my own candle, go my own way. i have too much." now, as he sat glooming, after his outbreak of oaths, there came a rattling noise at the door, the grinding of a key in the lock, the shooting of bolts, and a face appeared at the little wicket in the door. then the door opened and the sheriff stepped inside, accompanied by a white-haired, stately old man. at sight of this second figure--the sheriff had come often before, and would come for one more doleful walk with him--grassette started. his face, which had never whitened in all the dismal and terrorising doings of the capture and the trial and sentence, though it had flushed with rage more than once, now turned a little pale, for it seemed as if this old man had stepped out of the visions which had just passed before his eyes. "his honour, the lieutenant-governor, sir henri robitaille, has come to speak with you. . . . stand up," the sheriff added sharply, as grassette kept his seat. grassette's face flushed with anger, for the prison had not broken his spirits; then he got up slowly. "i not stand up for you," he growled at the sheriff; "i stand up for him." he jerked his head towards sir henri robitaille. this grand seigneur, with michelin, had believed in him in those far-off days which he had just been seeing over again, and all his boyhood and young manhood was rushing back on him. but now it was the governor who turned pale, seeing who the criminal was. "jacques grassette!" he cried in consternation and emotion, for under another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his identity been established--the case was so clear, the defence had been perfunctory, and quebec was very far away. "m'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and grassette's fingers twitched. "it was my sister's son you killed, grassette," said the governor in a low, strained voice. "nom de dieu!" said grassette hoarsely. "i did not know, grassette," the governor went on "i did not know it was you." "why did you come, m'sieu'?" "call him 'your honour,"' said the sheriff sharply. grassette's face hardened, and his look turned upon the sheriff was savage and forbidding. "i will speak as it please me. who are you? what do i care? to hang me--that is your business; but, for the rest, you spik to me differen'. who are you? your father kep' a tavern for thieves, vous savez bien!" it was true that the sheriff's father had had no savoury reputation in the west. the governor turned his head away in pain and trouble, for the man's rage was not a thing to see--and they both came from the little parish of st. francis, and had passed many an hour together. "never mind, grassette," he said gently. "call me what you will. you've got no feeling against me; and i can say with truth that i don't want your life for the life you took." grassette's breast heaved. "he put me out of my work, the man i kill. he pass the word against me, he hunt me out of the mountains, he call-tete de diable! he call me a name so bad. everything swim in my head, and i kill him." the governor made a protesting gesture. "i understand. i am glad his mother was dead. but do you not think how sudden it was? now here, in the thick of life, then, out there, beyond this world in the darkin purgatory." the brave old man had accomplished what everyone else, priest, lawyer, sheriff and watcher, had failed to do: he had shaken grassette out of his blank isolation and obdurate unrepentance, had touched some chord of recognisable humanity. "it is done--well, i pay for it," responded grassette, setting his jaw. "it is two deaths for me. waiting and remembering, and then with the sheriff there the other--so quick, and all." the governor looked at him for some moments without speaking. the sheriff intervened again officiously. "his honour has come to say something important to you," he remarked oracularly. "hold you--does he need a sheriff to tell him when to spik?" was grassette's surly comment. then he turned to the governor. "let us speak in french," he said in patois. "this rope-twister will not understan'. he is no good--i spit at him." the governor nodded, and, despite the sheriff's protest, they spoke in french, grassette with his eyes intently fixed on the other, eagerly listening. "i have come," said the governor, "to say to you, grassette, that you have still a chance of life." he paused, and grassette's face took on a look of bewilderment and vague anxiety. a chance of life--what did it mean? "reprieve?" he asked in a hoarse voice. the governor shook his head. "not yet; but there is a chance. something has happened. a man's life is in danger, or it may be he is dead; but more likely he is alive. you took a life; perhaps you can save one now. keeley's gulch--the mine there." "they have found it--gold?" asked grassette, his eyes staring. he was forgetting for a moment where and what he was. "he went to find it, the man whose life is in danger. he had heard from a trapper who had been a miner once. while he was there, a landslip came, and the opening to the mine was closed up--" "there were two ways in. which one did he take?" cried grassette. "the only one he could take, the only one he or anyone else knew. you know the other way in--you only, they say." "i found it--the easier, quick way in; a year ago i found it." "was it near the other entrance?" grassette shook his head. "a mile away." "if the man is alive--and we think he is--you are the only person that can save him. i have telegraphed the government. they do not promise, but they will reprieve, and save your life, if you find the man." "alive or dead?" "alive or dead, for the act would be the same. i have an order to take you to the gulch, if you will go; and i am sure that you will have your life, if you do it. i will promise--ah yes, grassette, but it shall be so! public opinion will demand it. you will do it?" "to go free--altogether?" "well, but if your life is saved, grassette?" the dark face flushed, then grew almost repulsive again in its sullenness. "life--and this, in prison, shut in year after year. to do always what some one else wills, to be a slave to a warder. to have men like that over me that have been a boss of men--wasn't it that drove me to kill?-to be treated like dirt. and to go on with this, while outside there is free life, and to go where you will at your own price-no! what do i care for life! what is it to me! to live like this--ah, i would break my head against these stone walls, i would choke myself with my own hands! if i stayed here, i would kill again, i would kill--kill." "then to go free altogether--that would be the wish of all the world, if you save this man's life, if it can be saved. will you not take the chance? we all have to die some time or other, grassette, some sooner, some later; and when you go, will you not want to take to god in your hands a life saved for a life taken? have you forgotten god, grassette? we used to remember him in the church of st. francis down there at home." there was a moment's silence, in which grassette's head was thrust forwards, his eyes staring into space. the old seigneur had touched a vulnerable corner in his nature. presently he said in a low voice: "to be free altogether. . . . what is his name? who is he?" "his name is bignold," the governor answered. he turned to the sheriff inquiringly. "that is it, is it not?" he asked in english again. "james tarran bignold," answered the sheriff. the effect of these words upon grassette was remarkable. his body appeared to stiffen, his face became rigid, he stared at the governor blankly, appalled, the colour left his face, and his mouth opened with a curious and revolting grimace. the others drew back, startled, and watched him. "sang de dieu!" he murmured at last, with a sudden gesture of misery and rage. then the governor understood: he remembered that the name just given by the sheriff and himself was the name of the englishman who had carried off grassette's wife years ago. he stepped forwards and was about to speak, but changed his mind. he would leave it all to grassette; he would not let the sheriff know the truth, unless grassette himself disclosed the situation. he looked at grassette with a look of poignant pity and interest combined. in his own placid life he had never had any tragic happening, his blood had run coolly, his days had been blessed by an urbane fate; such scenes as this were but a spectacle to him; there was no answering chord of human suffering in his own breast, to make him realise what grassette was undergoing now; but he had read widely, he had been an acute observer of the world and its happenings, and he had a natural human sympathy which had made many a man and woman eternally grateful to him. what would grassette do? it was a problem which had no precedent, and the solution would be a revelation of the human mind and heart. what would the man do? "well, what is all this, grassette?" asked the sheriff brusquely. his official and officious intervention, behind which was the tyranny of the little man, given a power which he was incapable of wielding wisely, would have roused grassette to a savage reply a half-hour before, but now it was met by a contemptuous wave of the hand, and grassette kept his eyes fixed on the governor. "james tarran bignold!" grassette said harshly, with eyes that searched the governor's face; but they found no answering look there. the governor, then, did not remember that tragedy of his home and hearth, and the man who had made of him an ishmael. still, bignold had been almost a stranger in the parish, and it was not curious if the governor had forgotten. "bignold!" he repeated, but the governor gave no response. "yes, bignold is his name, grassette," said the sheriff. "you took a life, and now, if you save one, that'll balance things. as the governor says, there'll be a reprieve anyhow. it's pretty near the day, and this isn't a bad world to kick in, so long as you kick with one leg on the ground, and--" the governor hastily intervened upon the sheriff's brutal remarks. "there is no time to be lost, grassette. he has been ten days in the mine." grassette's was not a slow brain. for a man of such physical and bodily bulk, he had more talents than are generally given. if his brain had been slower, his hand also would have been slower to strike. but his intelligence had been surcharged with hate these many years, and since the day he had been deserted, it had ceased to control his actions--a passionate and reckless wilfulness had governed it. but now, after the first shock and stupefaction, it seemed to go back to where it was before marcile went from him, gather up the force and intelligence it had then, and come forwards again to this supreme moment, with all that life's harsh experiences had done for it, with the education that misery and misdoing give. revolutions are often the work of instants, not years, and the crucial test and problem by which grassette was now faced had lifted him into a new atmosphere, with a new capacity alive in him. a moment ago his eyes had been bloodshot and swimming with hatred and passion; now they grew, almost suddenly, hard and lurking and quiet, with a strange, penetrating force and inquiry in them. "bignold--where does he come from? what is he?" he asked the sheriff. "he is an englishman; he's only been out here a few months. he's been shooting and prospecting; but he's a better shooter than prospector. he's a stranger; that's why all the folks out here want to save him if it's possible. it's pretty hard dying in a strange land far away from all that's yours. maybe he's got a wife waiting for him over there." "nom de dieu!" said grassette with suppressed malice, under his breath. "maybe there's a wife waiting for him, and there's her to think of. the west's hospitable, and this thing has taken hold of it; the west wants to save this stranger, and it's waiting for you, grassette, to do its work for it, you being the only man that can do it, the only one that knows the other secret way into keeley's gulch. speak right out, grassette. it's your chance for life. speak out quick." the last three words were uttered in the old slave-driving tone, though the earlier part of the speech had been delivered oracularly, and had brought again to grassette's eyes the reddish, sullen look which had made them, a little while before, like those of some wounded, angered animal at bay; but it vanished slowly, and there was silence for a moment. the sheriff's words had left no vestige of doubt in grassette's mind. this bignold was the man who had taken marcile away, first to the english province, then into the states, where he had lost track of them, then over to england. marcile--where was marcile now? in keeley's gulch was the man who could tell him, the man who had ruined his home and his life. dead or alive, he was in keeley's gulch, the man who knew where marcile was; and if he knew where marcile was, and if she was alive, and he was outside these prison walls, what would he do to her? and if he was outside these prison walls, and in the gulch, and the man was there alive before him, what would he do? outside these prison walls-to be out there in the sun, where life would be easier to give up, if it had to be given up! an hour ago he had been drifting on a sea of apathy, and had had his fill of life. an hour ago he had had but one desire, and that was to die fighting, and he had even pictured to himself a struggle in this narrow cell where he would compel them to kill him, and so in any case let him escape the rope. now he was suddenly brought face to face with the great central issue of his life, and the end, whatever that end might be, could not be the same in meaning, though it might be the same concretely. if he elected to let things be, then bignold would die out there in the gulch, starved, anguished, and alone. if he went, he could save his own life by saving bignold, if bignold was alive; or he could go--and not save bignold's life or his own! what would he do? the governor watched him with a face controlled to quietness, but with an anxiety which made him pale in spite of himself. "what will you do, grassette?" he said at last in a low voice, and with a step forwards to him. "will you not help to clear your conscience by doing this thing? you don't want to try and spite the world by not doing it. you can make a lot of your life yet, if you are set free. give yourself, and give the world a chance. you haven't used it right. try again." grassette imagined that the governor did not remember who bignold was, and that this was an appeal against his despair, and against revenging himself on the community which had applauded his sentence. if he went to the gulch, no one would know or could suspect the true situation, everyone would be unprepared for that moment when bignold and he would face each other--and all that would happen then. where was marcile? only bignold knew. alive or dead? only bignold knew. "bien, i will do it, m'sieu'," he said to the governor. "i am to go alone--eh?" the sheriff shook his head. "no, two warders will go with you--and myself." a strange look passed over grassette's face. he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he said again: "bon, i will go." "then there is, of course, the doctor," said the sheriff. "bon," said grassette. "what time is it?" "twelve o'clock," answered the sheriff, and made a motion to the warder to open the door of the cell. "by sundown!" grassette said, and he turned with a determined gesture to leave the cell. at the gate of the prison, a fresh, sweet air caught his face. involuntarily he drew in a great draught of it, and his eyes seemed to gaze out, almost wonderingly, over the grass and the trees to the boundless horizon. then he became aware of the shouts of the crowd-shouts of welcome. this same crowd had greeted him with shouts of execration when he had left the court house after his sentence. he stood still for a moment and looked at them, as it were only half comprehending that they were cheering him now, and that voices were saying, "bravo, grassette! save him, and we'll save you." cheer upon cheer, but he took no notice. he walked like one in a dream, a long, strong step. he turned neither to left nor right, not even when the friendly voice of one who had worked with him bade him: "cheer up, and do the trick." he was busy working out a problem which no one but himself could solve. he was only half conscious of his surroundings; he was moving in a kind of detached world of his own, where the warders and the sheriff and those who followed were almost abstract and unreal figures. he was living with a past which had been everlasting distant, and had now become a vivid and buffeting present. he returned no answers to the questions addressed to him, and would not talk, save when for a little while they dismounted from their horses, and sat under the shade of a great ash-tree for a few moments, and snatched a mouthful of luncheon. then he spoke a little and asked some questions, but lapsed into a moody silence afterwards. his life and nature were being passed through a fiery crucible. in all the years that had gone, he had had an ungovernable desire to kill both bignold and marcile if he ever met them, a primitive, savage desire to blot them out of life and being. his fingers had ached for marcile's neck, that neck in which he had lain his face so often in the transient, unforgettable days of their happiness. if she was alive now--if she was still alive! her story was hidden there in keeley's gulch with bignold, and he was galloping hard to reach his foe. as he went, by some strange alchemy of human experience, by that new birth of his brain, the world seemed different from what it had ever been before, at least since the day when he had found an empty home and a shamed hearthstone. he got a new feeling toward it, and life appealed to him as a thing that might have been so well worth living. but since that was not to be, then he would see what he could do to get compensation for all that he had lost, to take toll for the thing that had spoiled him, and given him a savage nature and a raging temper, which had driven him at last to kill a man who, in no real sense, had injured him. mile after mile they journeyed, a troop of interested people coming after, the sun and the clear sweet air, the waving grass, the occasional clearings where settlers had driven in the tent-pegs of home, the forest now and then swallowing them, the mountains rising above them like a blank wall, and then suddenly opening out before them; and the rustle and scamper of squirrels and coyotes; and over their heads the whistle of birds, the slow beat of wings of great wild-fowl. the tender sap of youth was in this glowing and alert new world, and, by sudden contrast with the prison walls which he had just left behind, the earth seemed recreated, unfamiliar, compelling and companionable. strange that in all the years that had been since he had gone back to his abandoned home to find marcile gone, the world had had no beauty, no lure for him. in the splendour of it all, he had only raged and stormed, hating his fellowman, waiting, however hopelessly, for the day when he should see marcile and the man who had taken her from him. and yet now, under the degradation of his crime and its penalty, and the unmanning influence of being the helpless victim of the iron power of the law, rigid, ugly and demoralising--now with the solution of his life's great problem here before him in the hills, with the man for whom he had waited so long caverned in the earth, but a hand-reach away, as it were, his wrongs had taken a new manifestation in him, and the thing that kept crying out in him every moment was, where is marcile? it was four o'clock when they reached the pass which only grassette knew, the secret way into the gulch. there was two hours' walking through the thick, primeval woods, where few had ever been, except the ancient tribes which had once lorded it here; then came a sudden drop into the earth, a short travel through a dim cave, and afterward a sheer wall of stone enclosing a ravine where the rocks on either side nearly met overhead. here grassette gave the signal to shout aloud, and the voice of the sheriff called out: "hello, bignold! "hello! hello, bignold! are you there?--hello!" his voice rang out clear and piercing, and then came a silence-a long, anxious silence. again the voice rang out: "hello! hello-o-o! bignold! bigno-o-ld!" they strained their ears. grassette was flat on the ground, his ear to the earth. suddenly he got to his feet, his face set, his eyes glittering. "he is there beyon'--i hear him," he said, pointing farther down the gulch. "water--he is near it." "we heard nothing," said the sheriff, "not a sound." "i hear ver' good. he is alive. i hear him--so," responded grassette; and his face had a strange, fixed look which the others interpreted to be agitation at the thought that he had saved his own life by finding bignold--and alive; which would put his own salvation beyond doubt. he broke away from them and hurried down the gulch. the others followed hard after, the sheriff and the warders close behind; but he outstripped them. suddenly he stopped and stood still, looking at something on the ground. they saw him lean forwards and his hands stretch out with a fierce gesture. it was the attitude of a wild animal ready to spring. they were beside him in an instant, and saw at his feet bignold worn to a skeleton, with eyes starting from his head, and fixed on grassette in agony and stark fear. the sheriff stooped to lift bignold up, but grassette waved them back with a fierce gesture, standing over the dying man. "he spoil my home. he break me--i have my bill to settle here," he said in a voice hoarse and harsh. "it is so? it is so--eh? spik!" he said to bignold. "yes," came feebly from the shrivelled lips. "water! water!" the wretched man gasped. "i'm dying!" a sudden change came over grassette. "water--queeck!" he said. the sheriff stooped and held a hatful of water to bignold's lips, while another poured brandy from a flask into the water. grassette watched them eagerly. when the dying man had swallowed a little of the spirit and water, grassette leaned over him again, and the others drew away. they realised that these two men had an account to settle, and there was no need for grassette to take revenge, for bignold was going fast. "you stan' far back," said grassette, and they fell away. then he stooped down to the sunken, ashen face, over which death was fast drawing its veil. "marcile--where is marcile?" he asked. the dying man's lips opened. "god forgive me--god save my soul!" he whispered. he was not concerned for grassette now. "queeck-queeck, where is marcile?" grassette said sharply. "come back, bignold. listen--where is marcile?" he strained to hear the answer. bignold was going, but his eyes opened again, however, for this call seemed to pierce to his soul as it struggled to be free. "ten years--since--i saw her," he whispered. "good girl--marcile. she loves you, but she--is afraid." he tried to say something more, but his tongue refused its office. "where is she-spik!" commanded grassette in a tone of pleading and agony now. once more the flying spirit came back. a hand made a motion towards his pocket, then lay still. grassette felt hastily in the dead man's pocket, drew forth a letter, and with half-blinded eyes read the few lines it contained. it was dated from a hospital in new york, and was signed: "nurse marcile." with a moan of relief grassette stood staring at the dead man. when the others came to him again, his lips were moving, but they did not hear what he was saying. they took up the body and moved away with it up the ravine. "it's all right, grassette. you'll be a freeman," said the sheriff. grassette did not answer. he was thinking how long it would take him to get to marcile, when he was free. he had a true vision of beginning life again with marcile. etext editor's bookmarks: being a man of very few ideas, he cherished those he had self-will, self-pride, and self-righteousness were big in him tyranny of the little man, given a power this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] pierre and his people tales of the far north by gilbert parker volume 4. the tall master the crimson flag the flood in pipi valley the tall master the story has been so much tossed about in the mouths of indians, and half-breeds, and men of the hudson's bay company, that you are pretty sure to hear only an apocryphal version of the thing as you now travel in the north. but pretty pierre was at fort luke when the battle occurred, and, before and after, he sifted the business thoroughly. for he had a philosophical turn, and this may be said of him, that he never lied except to save another from danger. in this matter he was cool and impartial from first to last, and evil as his reputation was in many ways there were those who believed and trusted him. himself, as he travelled here and there through the north, had heard of the tall master. yet he had never met anyone who had seen him; for the master had dwelt, it was said, chiefly among the strange tribes of the far-off metal river whose faces were almost white, and who held themselves aloof from the southern races. the tales lost nothing by being retold, even when the historians were the men of the h. b. c.;---pierre knew what accomplished liars may be found among that company of adventurers trading in hudson's bay, and how their art had been none too delicately engrafted by his own people. but he was, as became him, open to conviction, especially when, journeying to fort luke, he heard what john hybar, the chief factor-a man of uncommon quality--had to say. hybar had once lived long among those indians of the bright stone, and had seen many rare things among them. he knew their legends of the white valley and the hills of the mighty men, and how their distinctive character had imposed itself on the whole indian race of the north, so that there was none but believed, even though vaguely, in a pleasant land not south but arcticwards; and pierre himself, with shon mcgann and just trafford, had once had a strange experience in the kimash hills. he did not share the opinion of lazenby, the company's clerk at fort luke, who said, when the matter was talked of before him, that it was all hanky-panky,--which was evidence that he had lived in london town, before his anxious relatives, sending him forth under the delusive flag of adventure and wild life, imprisoned him in the arctic regions with the h. b. c. lazenby admired pierre; said he was good stuff, and voted him amusing, with an ingenious emphasis of heathen oaths; but advised him, as only an insolent young scoundrel can, to forswear securing, by the seductive game of poker or euchre, larger interest on his capital than the h. b. c.; whose record, he insisted, should never be rivalled by any single man in any single lifetime. then he incidentally remarked that he would like to empty the company's cash-box once--only once;--thus reconciling the preacher and the sinner, as many another has done. lazenby's morals were not bad, however. he was simply fond of making them appear terrible; even when in london he was more idle than wicked. he gravely suggested at last, as a kind of climax, that he and pierre should go out on the pad together. this was a mere stroke of pleasantry on his part, because, the most he could loot in that far north were furs and caches of buffalo meat; and a man's capacity and use for them were limited. even pierre's especial faculty and art seemed valueless so far polewards; but he had his beat throughout the land, and he kept it like a perfect patrolman. he had not been at fort luke for years, and he would not be there again for more years; but it was certain that he would go on reappearing till he vanished utterly. at the end of the first week of this visit at fort luke, so completely had he conquered the place, that he had won from the chief factor the year's purchases of skins, the stores, and the fort itself; and every stitch of clothing owned by lazenby: so that, if he had insisted on the redemption of the debts, the h. b. c. and lazenby had been naked and hungry in the wilderness. but pierre was not a hard creditor. he instantly and nonchalantly said that the fort would be useless to him, and handed it back again with all therein, on a most humorously constructed ninety-nine years' lease; while lazenby was left in pawn. yet lazenby's mind was not at certain ease; he had a wholesome respect for pierre's singularities, and dreaded being suddenly called upon to pay his debt before he could get his new clothes made, maybe, in the presence of wind driver, chief of the golden dogs, and his demure and charming daughter, wine face, who looked upon him with the eye of affection--a matter fully, but not ostentatiously, appreciated by lazenby. if he could have entirely forgotten a pretty girl in south kensington, who, at her parents' bidding, turned her shoulder on him, he would have married wine face; and so he told pierre. but the half-breed had only a sardonic sympathy for such weakness. things changed at once when shon mcgann arrived. he should have come before, according to a promise given pierre, but there were reasons for the delay; and these shon elaborated in his finely picturesque style. he said that he had lost his way after he left the wapiti woods, and should never have found it again, had it not been for a strange being who came upon him and took him to the camp of the white hand indians, and cared for him there, and sent him safely on his way again to fort luke. "sorra wan did i ever see like him," said shon, with a face that was divil this minute and saint the next; pale in the cheek, and black in the eye, and grizzled hair flowin' long at his neck and lyin' like snakes on his shoulders; and whin his fingers closed on yours, bedad! they didn't seem human at all, for they clamped you so cold and strong." "'for they clamped you so cold and strong,'" replied pierre, mockingly, yet greatly interested, as one could see by the upward range of his eye towards shon. "well, what more?" "well, squeeze the acid from y'r voice, pierre; for there's things that better become you: and listen to me, for i've news for all here at the fort, before i've done, which'll open y'r eyes with a jerk." "with a wonderful jerk, hold! let us prepare, messieurs, to be waked with an irish jerk!" and pierre pensively trifled with the fringe on shon's buckskin jacket, which was whisked from his fingers with smothered anger. for a few moments he was silent; but the eager looks of the chief factor and lazenby encouraged him to continue. besides, it was only pierre's way--provoking shon was the piquant sauce of his life. "lyin' awake i was," continued shon, "in the middle of the night, not bein' able to sleep for a pain in a shoulder i'd strained, whin i heard a thing that drew me up standin'. it was the sound of a child laughin'; so wonderful and bright, and at the very door of me tent it seemed. then it faded away till it was only a breath, lovely, and idle, and swingin'. i wint to the door and looked out. there was nothin' there, av coorse." "and why 'av coorse'?" rejoined pierre. the chief factor was intent on what shon was saying, while lazenby drummed his fingers on the table, his nose in the air. "divils me darlin', but ye know as well as i, that there's things in the world neither for havin' nor handlin'. and that's wan of thim, says i to meself. . . . i wint back and lay down, and i heard the voice singin' now and comin' nearer and nearer, and growin' louder and louder, and then there came with it a patter of feet, till it was as a thousand children were dancin' by me door. i was shy enough, i'll own; but i pulled aside the curtain of the tent to see again: and there was nothin' beyand for the eye. but the singin' was goin' past and recedin' as before, till it died away along the waves of prairie grass. i wint back and give grey nose, my injin bed-fellow, a lift wid me fut. 'come out of that,' says i, 'and tell me if dead or alive i am.' he got up, and there was the noise soft and grand again, but with it now the voices of men, the flip of birds' wings and the sighin' of tree tops, and behind all that the long wash of a sea like none i ever heard. . . . 'well,' says i to the injin grinnin' before me, 'what's that, in the name o' moses?' 'that,' says he, laughin' slow in me face, 'is the tall master--him that brought you to the camp.' thin i remimbered all the things that's been said of him, and i knew it was music i'd been hearin' and not children's voices nor anythin' else at all. "'come with me,' says grey nose; and he took me to the door of a big tent standin' alone from the rest. "'wait a minute,' says he, and he put his hand on the tent curtain; and at that there was a crash, as a million gold hammers were fallin' on silver drums. and we both stood still; for it seemed an army, with swords wranglin' and bridle-chains rattlin', was marchin' down on us. there was the divil's own uproar, as a battle was comin' on; and a long line of spears clashed. but just then there whistled through the larrup of sound a clear voice callin', gentle and coaxin', yet commandin' too; and the spears dropped, and the pounding of horsehoofs ceased, and then the army marched away; far away; iver so far away, into--" "into heaven!" flippantly interjected lazenby. "into heaven, say i, and be choked to you! for there's no other place for it; and i'll stand by that, till i go there myself, and know the truth o' the thing." pierre here spoke. "heaven gave you a fine trick with words, shon mcgann. i sometimes think irishmen have gifts for only two things--words and women. . . . 'bien,' what then?" shon was determined not to be angered. the occasion was too big. "well, grey nose lifted the curtain and wint in. in a minute he comes out. 'you can go in,' says he. so in i wint, the injin not comin', and there in the middle of the tint stood the tall master, alone. he had his fiddle to his chin, and the bow hoverin' above it. he looked at me for a long time along the thing; then, all at once, from one string i heard the child laughin' that pleasant and distant, though the bow seemed not to be touchin'. soon it thinned till it was the shadow of a laugh, and i didn't know whin it stopped, he smilin' down at the fiddle bewhiles. then he said without lookin' at me,--'it is the spirit of the white valley and the hills of the mighty men; of which all men shall know, for the north will come to her spring again one day soon, at the remaking of the world. they thought the song would never be found again, but i have given it a home here.' and he bent and kissed the strings. after, he turned sharply as if he'd been spoken to, and looked at someone beside him; someone that i couldn't see. a cloud dropped upon his face, he caught the fiddle hungrily to his breast, and came limpin' over to me-for there was somethin' wrong with his fut--and lookin' down his hooknose at me, says he,--'i've a word for them at fort luke, where you're goin', and you'd better be gone at once; and i'll put you on your way. there's to be a great battle. the white hands have an ancient feud with the golden dogs, and they have come from where the soft chinook wind ranges the peace river, to fight until no man of all the golden dogs be left, or till they themselves be destroyed. it is the same north and south,' he wint on; 'i have seen it all in italy, in greece, in--' but here he stopped and smiled strangely. after a minute he wint on: 'the white hands have no quarrel with the englishmen of the fort, and i would warn them, for englishmen were once kind to me--and warn also the golden dogs. so come with me at once,' says he. and i did. and he walked with me till mornin', carryin' the fiddle under his arm, but wrapped in a beautiful velvet cloth, havin' on it grand figures like the arms of a king or queen. and just at the first whisk of sun he turned me into a trail and give me good-bye, sayin' that maybe he'd follow me soon, and, at any rate, he'd be there at the battle. well, divils betide me! i got off the track again; and lost a day; but here i am; and there's me story to take or lave as you will." shon paused and began to fumble with the cards on the table before him, looking the while at the others. the chief factor was the first to speak. "i don't doubt but he told you true about the white hands and the golden dogs," he said; "for there's been war and bad blood between them beyond the memory of man--at least since the time that the mighty men lived, from which these date their history. but there's nothing to be done to-night; for if we tell old wind driver, there'll be no sleeping at the fort. so we'll let the thing stand." "you believe all this poppy-cock, chief?" said lazenby to the factor, but laughing in shon's face the while. the factor gravely replied: "i knew of the tall master years ago on the far-off metal river; and though i never saw him i can believe these things--and more. you do not know this world through and through, lazenby; you have much to learn." pierre said nothing. he took the cards from shon and passed them to and fro in his hand. mechanically he dealt them out, and as mechanically they took them up and in silence began to play. the next day there was commotion and excitement at fort luke. the golden dogs were making preparations for the battle. pow-wow followed pow-wow, and paint and feathers followed all. the h. b. c. people had little to do but look to their guns and house everything within the walls of the fort. at night, shon, pierre, and lazenby were seated about the table in the common-room, the cards lying dealt before them, waiting for the factor to come. presently the door opened and the factor entered, followed by another. shon and pierre sprang to their feet. "the tall master," said shon with a kind of awe; and then stood still. their towering visitor slowly unloosed something he carried very carefully and closely beneath his arm, and laid it on the table, dropping his compass-like fingers softly on it. he bowed gravely to each, yet the bow seemed grotesque, his body was so ungainly. with the eyes of all drawn to him absolutely, he spoke in a low sonorous tone: "i have followed the traveller fast"--his hand lifted gently towards shon--"for there are weighty concerns abroad, and i have things to say and do before i go again to my people--and beyond. . . . i have hungered for the face of a white man these many years, and his was the first i saw;"-again he tossed a long finger towards the irishman--"and it brought back many things. i remember. . . . " he paused, then sat down; and they all did the same. he looked at them one by one with distant kindness. "i remember," he continued, and his strangely articulated fingers folded about the thing on the table beside him, "when"--here the cards caught his eye. his face underwent a change. an eager fantastic look shot from his eye, "when i gambled this away at lucca,"--his hand drew the bundle closer to him--"but i won it back again--at a price!" he gloomily added, glancing sideways as to someone at his elbow. he remained, eyes hanging upon space for a moment, then he recollected himself and continued: "i became wiser; i never risked it again; but i loved the game always. i was a gamester from the start--the artist is always so when he is greatest,--like nature herself. and once, years after, i played with a mother for her child--and mine. and yet once again at parma with"--here he paused, throwing that sharp sidelong glance--"with the greatest gamester, for the infinite secret of art: and i won it; but i paid the price! . . . i should like to play now." he reached his hand, drew up five cards, and ran his eye through them. "play!" he said. "the hand is good--very good. . . . once when i played with the princess--but it is no matter; and tuscany is far away! . . . play!" he repeated. pierre instantly picked up the cards, with an air of cool satisfaction. he had either found the perfect gamester or the perfect liar. he knew the remedy for either. the chief factor did not move. shon and lazenby followed pierre's action. by their positions lazenby became his partner. they played in silence for a minute, the tall master taking all. "napoleon was a wonderful player, but he lost with me," he said slowly as he played a card upon three others and took them. lazenby was so taken back by this remark that, presently, he trumped his partner's ace, and was rewarded by a talon-like look from the tall master's eye; but it was immediately followed by one of saturnine amusement. they played on silently. "ah, you are a wonderful player!" he presently said to pierre, with a look of keen scrutiny. "come, i will play with you--for values--the first time in seventy-five years; then, no more!" lazenby and shon drew away beside the chief factor. the two played. meanwhile lazenby said to shon: "the man's mad. he talks about napoleon as if he'd known him--as if it wasn't three-fourths of a century ago. does he think we're all born idiots? why, he's not over sixty years old now. but where the deuce did he come from with that italian face? and the funniest part of it is, he reminds me of someone. did you notice how he limped--the awkward beggar!" lazenby had unconsciously lifted his voice, and presently the tall master turned and said to him: "i ran a nail into my foot at leyden seventy-odd years ago." "he's the devil himself," rejoined lazenby, and he did not lower his voice. "many with angelic gifts are children of his dark majesty," said the tall master, slowly; and though he appeared closely occupied with the game, a look of vague sadness came into his face. for a half-hour they played in silence, the slight, delicate-featured half-breed, and the mysterious man who had for so long been a thing of wonder in the north, a weird influence among the indians. there was a strange, cold fierceness in the tall master's face. he now staked his precious bundle against the one thing pierre prized--the gold watch received years ago for a deed of heroism on the chaudiere. the half-breed had always spoken of it as amusing, but shon at least knew that to pierre it was worth his right hand. both men drew breath slowly, and their eyes were hard. the stillness became painful; all were possessed by the grim spirit of chance. . . . the tall master won. he came to his feet, his shambling body drawn together to a height. pierre rose also. their looks clinched. pierre stretched out his hand. "you are my master at this," he said. the other smiled sadly. "i have played for the last time. i have not forgotten how to win. if i had lost, uncommon things had happened. this,"--he laid his hand on the bundle and gently undid it,--"is my oldest friend, since the warm days at parma . . . all dead . . . all dead." out of the velvet wrapping, broidered with royal and ducal arms, and rounded by a wreath of violets--which the chief factor looked at closely--he drew his violin. he lifted it reverently to his lips. "my good garnerius!" he said. "three masters played you, but i am chief of them all. they had the classic soul, but i the romantic heart--'les grandes caprices.'" his head lifted higher. "i am the master artist of the world. i have found the core of nature. here in the north is the wonderful soul of things. beyond this, far beyond, where the foolish think is only inviolate ice, is the first song of the ages in a very pleasant land. i am the lost master, and i shall return, i shall return . . . but not yet . . . not yet." he fetched the instrument to his chin with a noble pride. the ugliness of his face was almost beautiful now. the chief factor's look was fastened on him with bewilderment; he was trying to remember something: his mind went feeling, he knew not why, for a certain day, a quarter of a century before, when he unpacked a box of books and papers from england. most of them were still in the fort. the association of this man with these things fretted him. the tall master swung his bow upward, but at that instant there came a knock, and, in response to a call, wind driver and wine face entered. wine face was certainly a beautiful girl; and lazenby might well have been pardoned for throwing in his fate with such a heathen, if he despaired of ever seeing england again. the tall master did not turn towards these. the indians sat gracefully on a bearskin before the fire. the eyes of the girl were cast shyly upon the man as he stood there unlike an ordinary man; in his face a fine hardness and the cold light of the north. he suddenly tipped his bow upward and brought it down with a most delicate crash upon the strings. then softly, slowly, he passed into a weird fantasy. the indians sat breathless. upon them it acted more impressively than the others: besides, the player's eye was searching them now; he was playing into their very bodies. and they responded with some swift shocks of recognition crossing their faces. suddenly the old indian sprang up. he thrust his arms out, and made, as if unconsciously, some fantastic yet solemn motions. the player smiled in a far-off fashion, and presently ran the bow upon the strings in an exquisite cry; and then a beautiful avalanche of sound slid from a distance, growing nearer and nearer, till it swept through the room, and imbedded all in its sweetness. at this the old indian threw himself forward at the player's feet. "it is the song of the white weaver, the maker of the world--the music from the hills of the mighty men. . . . i knew it--i knew it--but never like that. . . . it was lost to the world; the wild cry of the lofty stars. . . ." his face was wet. the girl too had risen. she came forward as if in a dream and reverently touched the arm of the musician, who paused now, and was looking at them from under his long eyelashes. she said whisperingly: "are you a spirit? do you come from the hills of the mighty men?" he answered gravely: "i am no spirit. but i have journeyed in the hills of the mighty men and along their ancient hunting-grounds. this that i have played is the ancient music of the world--the music of jubal and his comrades. it comes humming from the poles; it rides laughing down the planets; it trembles through the snow; it gives joy to the bones of the wind. . . . and i am the voice of it," he added; and he drew up his loose unmanageable body till it looked enormous, firm, and dominant. the girl's fingers ran softly over to his breast. "i will follow you," she said, "when you go again to the happy valleys." down from his brow there swept a faint hue of colour, and, for a breath, his eyes closed tenderly with hers. but he straightway gathered back his look again, his body shrank, not rudely, from her fingers, and he absently said: "i am old-in years the father of the world. it is a man's life gone since, at genoa, she laid her fingers on my breast like that. . . . these things can be no more . . . until the north hath its summer again; and i stand young--the master--upon the summits of my renown." the girl drew slowly back. lazenby was muttering under his breath now; he was overwhelmed by this change in wine face. he had been impressed to awe by the tall master's music, but he was piqued, and determined not to give in easily. he said sneeringly that maskelyne and cooke in music had come to life, and suggested a snake-dance. the tall master heard these things, and immediately he turned to lazenby with an angry look on his face. his brows hung heavily over the dull fire of his eyes; his hair itself seemed like medusa's, just quivering into savage life; the fingers spread out white and claw-like upon the strings as he curved his violin to his chin, whereof it became, as it were, a piece. the bow shot out and down upon the instrument with a great clangour. there eddied into a vast arena of sound the prodigious elements of war. torture rose from those four immeasurable chords; destruction was afoot upon them; a dreadful dance of death supervened. through the chief factor's mind there flashed--though mechanically, and only to be remembered afterwards--the words of a schoolday poem. it shuttled in and out of the music: "wheel the wild dance, while lightnings glance, and thunders rattle loud; and call the brave to bloody grave, to sleep without a shroud." the face of the player grew old and drawn. the skin was wrinkled, but shone, the hair spread white, the nose almost met the chin, the mouth was all malice. it was old age with vast power: conquest volleyed from the fingers. shon mcgann whispered aves, aching with the sound; the chief factor shuddered to his feet; lazenby winced and drew back to the wall, putting his hand before his face as though the sounds were striking him; the old indian covered his head with his arms upon the floor. wine face knelt, her face all grey, her fingers lacing and interlacing with pain. only pierre sat with masterful stillness, his eyes never moving from the face of the player; his arms folded; his feet firmly wedded to the floor. the sound became strangely distressing. it shocked the flesh and angered the nerves. upon lazenby it acted singularly. he cowered from it, but presently, with a look of madness in his eyes, rushed forward, arms outstretched, as though to seize this intolerable minstrel. there was a sudden pause in the playing; then the room quaked with noise, buffeting lazenby into stillness. the sounds changed instantly again, and music of an engaging sweetness and delight fell about them as in silver drops--an enchanting lyric of love. its exquisite tenderness subdued lazenby, who, but now, had a heart for slaughter. he dropped on his knees, threw his head into his arms, and sobbed hard. the tall master's fingers crept caressingly along one of those heavenly veins of sound, his bow poising softly over it. the farthest star seemed singing. at dawn the next day the golden dogs were gathered for war before the fort. immediately after the sun rose, the foe were seen gliding darkly out of the horizon. from another direction came two travellers. these also saw the white hands bearing upon the fort, and hurried forward. they reached the gates of the fort in good time, and were welcomed. one was a chief trader from a fort in the west. he was an old man, and had been many years in the service of the h. b. c.; and, like lazenby, had spent his early days in london, a connoisseur in all its pleasures; the other was a voyageur. they had posted on quickly to bring news of this crusade of the white hands. the hostile indians came steadily to within a few hundred yards of the golden dogs. then they sent a brave to say that they had no quarrel with the people of the fort; and that if the golden dogs came on they would battle with them alone; since the time had come for "one to be as both," as their medicine men had declared since the days of the great race. and this signified that one should destroy the other. at this all the golden dogs ranged into line. the sun shone brightly, the long hedge of pine woods in the distance caught the colour of the sky, the flowers of the plains showed handsomely as a carpet of war. the bodies of the fighters glistened. you could see the rise and fall of their bare, strenuous chests. they stood as their forefathers in battle, almost naked, with crested head, gleaming axe, scalp-knife, and bows and arrows. at first there was the threatening rustle of preparation; then a great stillness came and stayed for a moment; after which, all at once, there sped through the air a big shout of battle, and the innumerable twang of flying arrows; and the opposing hosts ran upon each other. pierre and shon mcgann, watching from the fort, cried out with excitement. "divils me darlin'!" called shon, "are we gluin' our eyes to a chink in the wall, whin the tangle of battle goes on beyand? bedad, i'll not stand it! look at them twistin' the neck o' war! open the gates, open the gates say i, and let us have play with our guns." "hush! 'mon dieu!'" interrupted pierre. "look! the tall master!" none at the fort had seen the tall master since the night before. now he was covering the space between the walls and the battle, his hair streaming behind him. when he came near to the vortex of fight he raised his violin to his chin, and instantly a piercingly sweet call penetrated the wild uproar. the call filled it, drained through it, wrapped it, overcame it; so that it sank away at last like the outwash of an exhausted tide: the weft of battle stayed unfinished in the loom. then from the indian lodges came the women and children. they drew near to the unearthly luxury of that call, now lifting with an unbounded joy. battleaxes fell to the ground; the warriors quieted even where they stood locked with their foes. the tall master now drew away from them, facing the north and west. that ineffable call drew them after him with grave joy; and they brought their dead and wounded along. the women and children glided in among the men and followed also. presently one girl ran away from the rest and came close into the great leader's footsteps. at that instant, lazenby, from the wall of the fort, cried out madly, sprang down, opened the gates, and rushed towards the girl, crying: "wine face! wine face!" she did not look behind. but he came close to her and caught her by the waist. "come back! come back! o my love, come back!" he urged; but she pushed him gently from her. "hush! hush!" she said. "we are going to the happy valleys. don't you hear him calling?" . . . and lazenby fell back. the tall master was now playing a wonderful thing, half dance, half carnival; but with that call still beating through it. they were passing the fort at an angle. all within issued forth to see. suddenly the old trader who had come that morning started forward with a cry; then stood still. he caught the factor's arm; but he seemed unable to speak yet; his face was troubled, his eyes were hard upon the player. the procession passed the empty lodges, leaving the ground strewn with their weapons, and not one of their number stayed behind. they passed away towards the high hills of the north-west-beautiful austere barriers. still the trader gazed, and was pale, and trembled. they watched long. the throng of pilgrims grew a vague mass; no longer an army of individuals; and the music came floating back with distant charm. at last the old man found voice. "my god, it is--" the factor touched his arm, interrupting him, and drew a picture from his pocket--one but just now taken from that musty pile of books, received so many years before. he showed it to the old man. "yes, yes," said the other, "that is he. . . . and the world buried him forty years ago!" pierre, standing near, added with soft irony: "there are strange things in the world. he is the gamester of the world. 'mais' a grand comrade also." the music came waving back upon them delicately but the pilgrims were fading from view. soon the watchers were alone with the glowing day. the crimson flag talk and think as one would, the woman was striking to see; with marvellous flaxen hair and a joyous violet eye. she was all pulse and dash; but she was as much less beautiful than the manager's wife as tom liffey was as nothing beside the manager himself; and one would care little to name the two women in the same breath if the end had been different. when the woman came to little goshen there were others of her class there, but they were of a commoner sort and degree. she was the queen of a lawless court, though she never, from first to last, spoke to one of those others who were her people; neither did she hold commerce with any of the ordinary miners, save pretty pierre, but he was more gambler than miner,--and he went, when the matter was all over, and told her some things that stripped her soul naked before her eyes. pierre had a wonderful tongue. it was only the gentlemen-diggers--and there were many of them at little goshen--who called upon her when the lights were low; and then there was a good deal of muffled mirth in the white house among the pines. the rougher miners made no quarrel with this, for the gentlemen-diggers were popular enough, they were merely sarcastic and humorous, and said things which, coming to the woman's ears, made her very merry; for she herself had an abundant wit, and had spent wild hours with clever men. she did not resent the playful insolence that sent a dozen miners to her house in the dead of night with a crimson flag, which they quietly screwed to her roof; and paint, with which they deftly put a wide stripe of scarlet round the cornice, and another round the basement. in the morning, when she saw what had been done, she would not have the paint removed nor the flag taken down; for, she said, the stripes looked very well, and the other would show that she was always at home. now, the notable thing was that heldon, the manager, was in the woman's house on the night this was done. tom liffey, the lumpish guide and trapper, saw him go in; and, days afterwards, he said to pierre: "divils me own, but this is a bad hour for heldon's wife--she with a face like a princess and eyes like the fear o' god. nivir a wan did i see like her, since i came out of erin with a clatter of hoofs behoind me and a squall on the sea before. there's wimmin there wid cheeks like roses and buthermilk, and a touch that'd make y'r heart pound on y'r ribs; but none that's grander than heldon's wife. to lave her for that other, standin' hip-high in her shame, is temptin' the fires of heaven, that basted the sinners o' sodom." pierre, pausing between the whiffs of a cigarette, said: "so? but you know more of catching foxes in winter, and climbing mountains in summer, and the grip of the arm of an injin girl, than of these things. you are young, quite young in the world, tom liffey." "young i may be with a glint o' grey at me temples from a night o' trouble beyand in the hills; but i'm the man, an' the only man, that's climbed to the glacier-top--god's playground, as they call it: and nivir a dirty trick have i done to injin girl or any other; and be damned to you there!" "sometimes i think you are as foolish as shon mcgann," compassionately replied the half-breed. "you have almighty virtue, and you did that brave trick of the glacier; but great men have fallen. you are not dead yet. still, as you say, heldon's wife is noble to see. she is grave and cold, and speaks little; but there is something in her which is not of the meek of the earth. some women say nothing, and suffer and forgive, and take such as heldon back to their bosoms; but there are others--i remember a woman--bien, it is no matter, it was long ago; but they two are as if born of one mother; and what comes of this will be mad play--mad play." "av coorse his wife may not get to know of it, and--" "not get to know it! 'tsh, you are a child--" "faith, i'll say what i think, and that in y'r face! maybe he'll tire of the handsome rip--for handsome she is, like a yellow lily growin' out o' mud--and go back to his lawful wife, that believes he's at the mines, when he's drinkin' and colloguin' wid a fly-away." pierre slowly wheeled till he had the irishman straight in his eye. then he said in a low, cutting tone: "i suppose your heart aches for the beautiful lady, eh?" here he screwed his slight forefinger into tom's breast; then he added sharply: "'nom de dieu,' but you make me angry! you talk too much. such men get into trouble. and keep down the riot of that heart of yours, tom liffey, or you'll walk on the edge of knives one day. and now take an inch of whisky and ease the anxious soul. 'voila!'" after a moment he added: "women work these things out for themselves." then the two left the hut, and amiably strolled together to the centre of the village, where they parted. it was as pierre had said: the woman would work the thing out for herself. later that evening heldon's wife stood cloaked and veiled in the shadows of the pines, facing the house with the crimson flag. her eyes shifted ever from the door to the flag, which was stirred by the light breeze. once or twice she shivered as with cold, but she instantly stilled again, and watched. it was midnight. here and there beyond in the village a light showed, and straggling voices floated faintly towards her. for a long time no sound came from the house. but at last she heard a laugh. at that she drew something from her pocket, and held it firmly in her hand. once she turned and looked at another house far up on the hill, where lights were burning. it was heldon's house--her home. a sharp sound as of anguish and anger escaped her; then she fastened her eyes on the door in front of her. at that moment tom liffey was standing with his hands on his hips looking at heldon's home on the hill; and he said some rumbling words, then strode on down the road, and suddenly paused near the wife. he did not see her. he faced the door at which she was looking, and shook his fist at it. "a murrain on y'r sowl!" said he, "as there's plague in y'r body, and hell in the slide of y'r feet, like the trail of the red spider. and out o' that come ye, heldon, for i know y're there. out of that, ye beast! . . . but how can ye go back--you that's rolled in that sewer--to the loveliest woman that ever trod the neck o' the world! damned y' are in every joint o' y'r frame, and damned is y'r sowl, i say, for bringing sorrow to her; and i hate you as much for that, as i could worship her was she not your wife and a lady o' blood, god save her!" then shaking his fist once more, he swung away slowly down the road. during this the wife's teeth held together as though they were of a piece. she looked after tom liffey and smiled; but it was a dreadful smile. "he worships me, that common man--worships me," she said. "this man who was my husband has shamed me, left me. well--" the door of the house opened; a man came out. his wife leaned a little forward, and something clicked ominously in her hand. but a voice came up the road towards them through the clear air--the voice of tom liffey. the husband paused to listen; the wife mechanically did the same. the husband remembered this afterwards: it was the key to, and the beginning of, a tragedy. these are the words the irishman sang: "she was a queen, she stood up there before me, my blood went roarin' when she touched my hand; she kissed me on the lips, and then she swore me to die for her--and happy was the land." a new and singular look came into her face. it trans formed her. "that," she said in a whisper to herself--"that! he knows the way." as her husband turned towards his home, she turned also. he heard the rustle of garments, and he could just discern the cloaked figure in the shadows. he hurried on; the figure flitted ahead of him. a fear possessed him in spite of his will. he turned back. the figure stood still for a moment, then followed him. he braced himself, faced about, and walked towards it: it stopped and waited. he had not the courage. he went back again swiftly towards the house he had left. again he looked behind him. the figure was standing, not far, in the pines. he wheeled suddenly towards the house, turned a key in the door, and entered. then the wife went to that which had been her home: heldon did not go thither until the first flush of morning. pierre, returning from an allnight sitting at cards, met him, and saw the careworn look on his face. the half-breed smiled. he knew that the event was doubling on the man. when heldon reached his house, he went to his wife's room. it was locked. then he walked down to his mines with a miserable shame and anger at his heart. he did not pass the crimson flag. he went by another way. that evening, in the dusk, a woman knocked at tom liffey's door. he opened it. "are you alone?" she said. "i am alone, lady." "i will come in," she added. "you will--come in?" he faltered. she drew near him, and reached out and gently caught his hand. "ah!" he said, with a sound almost like a sob in its intensity, and the blood flushed to his hair. he stepped aside, and she entered. in the light of the candle her eye burned into his, but her face wore a shining coldness. she leaned towards him. "you said you could worship me," she whispered, "and you cursed him. well--worship me--altogether--and that will curse him, as he has killed me." "dear lady!" he said, in an awed, overwhelmed murmur; and he fell back to the wall. she came towards him. "am i not beautiful?" she urged. she took his hand. his eye swam with hers. but his look was different from hers, though he could not know that. his was the madness of a man in a dream; hers was a painful thing. the furies dwelt in her. she softly lifted his hand above his head, and whispered: "swear." and she kissed him. her lips were icy, though he did not think so. the blood tossed in his veins. he swore: but, doing so, he could not conceive all that would be required of him. he was hers, body and soul, and she had resolved on a grim thing. . . . in the darkness, they left the hut and passed into the woods, and slowly up through the hills. heldon returned to his home that night to find it empty. there were no servants. there was no wife. her cat and dog lay dead upon the hearthrug. her clothing was cut into strips. her wedding-dress was a charred heap on the fireplace. her jewellery lay molten with it. her portrait had been torn from its frame. an intolerable fear possessed him. drops of sweat hung on his forehead and his hands. he fled towards the town. he bit his finger-nails till they bled as he passed the house in the pines. he lifted his arm as if the flappings of the crimson flag were blows in his face. at last he passed tom liffey's hut. he saw pierre, coming from it. the look on the gambler's face was one, of gloomy wonder. his fingers trembled as he lighted a cigarette, and that was an unusual thing. the form of heldon edged within the light. pierre dropped the match and said to him,--"you are looking for your wife?" heldon bowed his head. the other threw open the door of the hut. "come in here," he said. they entered. pierre pointed to a woman's hat on the table. "do you know that?" he asked, huskily, for he was moved. but heldon only nodded dazedly. pierre continued: "i was to have met tom liffey here--to-night. he is not here. you hoped--i suppose--to see your wife in your--home. she is not there. he left a word on paper for me. i have torn it up. writing is the enemy of man. but i know where he is gone. i know also where your wife has gone." heldon's face was of a hateful paleness. . . . they passed out into the night. "where are you going?" heldon said. "to god's playground, if we can get there." "to god's playground? to the glacier-top? you are mad." "no, but he and she were mad. come on." then he whispered something, and heldon gave a great cry, and they plunged into the woods. in the morning the people of little goshen, looking towards the glacier, saw a flag (they knew afterwards that it was crimson) flying on it. near it were two human figures. a miner, looking through a field-glass, said that one figure was crouching by the flag-staff, and that it was a woman. the other figure near was a man. as the morning wore on, they saw upon a crag of ice below the sloping glacier two men looking upwards towards the flag. one of them seemed to shriek out, and threw up his hands, and made as if to rush forward; but the other drew him back. heldon knew what revenge and disgrace may be at their worst. in vain he tried to reach god's playground. only one man knew the way, and he was dead upon it--with heldon's wife: two shameless suicides. . . . when he came down from the mountain the hair upon his face was white, though that upon his head remained black as it had always been. and those frozen figures stayed there like statues with that other crimson flag: until, one day, a great-bodied wind swept out of the north, and, in pity, carried them down a bottomless fissure. but long before this happened, the woman had fled from little goshen in the night, and her house was burned to the ground. the flood wendling came to fort anne on the day that the reverend ezra badgley and an unknown girl were buried. and that was a notable thing. the man had been found dead at his evening meal; the girl had died on the same day; and they were buried side by side. this caused much scandal, for the man was holy, and the girl, as many women said, was probably evil altogether. at the graves, when the minister's people saw what was being done, they piously protested; but the factor, to whom pierre had whispered a word, answered them gravely that the matter should go on: since none knew but the woman was as worthy of heaven as the man. wendling chanced to stand beside pretty pierre. "who knows!" he said aloud, looking hard at the graves, "who knows!.... she died before him, but the dead can strike." pierre did not answer immediately, for the factor was calling the earth down on both coffins; but after a moment he added: "yes, the dead can strike." and then the eyes of the two men caught and stayed, and they knew that they had things to say to each other in the world. they became friends. and that, perhaps, was not greatly to wendling's credit; for in the eyes of many pierre was an outcast as an outlaw. maybe some of the women disliked this friendship most; since wendling was a handsome man, and pierre was never known to seek them, good or bad; and they blamed him for the other's coldness, for his unconcerned yet respectful eye. "there's nelly nolan would dance after him to the world's end," said shon mcgann to pierre one day; "and the widdy jerome herself, wid her flamin' cheeks and the wild fun in her eye, croons like a babe at the breast as he slides out his cash on the bar; and over on gansonby's flat there's--" "there's many a fool, 'voila,'" sharply interjected pierre, as he pushed the needle through a button he was sewing on his coat. "bedad, there's a pair of fools here, anyway, i say; for the women might die without lift at waist or brush of lip, and neither of ye'd say, 'here's to the joy of us, goddess, me own!'" pierre seemed to be intently watching the needlepoint as it pierced up the button-eye, and his reply was given with a slowness corresponding to the sedate passage of the needle. "wendling, you think, cares nothing for women? well, men who are like that cared once for one woman, and when that was over--but, pshaw! i will not talk. you are no thinker, shon mcgann. you blunder through the world. and you'll tremble as much to a woman's thumb in fifty years as now." "by the holy smoke," said shon, "though i tremble at that, maybe, i'll not tremble, as wendling, at nothing at all." here pierre looked up sharply, then dropped his eyes on his work again. shon lapsed suddenly into a moodiness. "yes," said pierre, "as wendling, at nothing at all? well?" "well, this, pierre, for you that's a thinker from me that's none. i was walking with him in red glen yesterday. sudden he took to shiverin', and snatched me by the arm, and a mad look shot out of his handsome face. 'hush!' says he. i listened. there was a sound like the hard rattle of a creek over stones, and then another sound behind that. 'come quick,' says he, the sweat standin' thick on him; and he ran me up the bank--for it was at the beginnin' of the glen where the sides were low--and there we stood pantin' and starin' flat at each other. 'what's that? and what's got its hand on ye? for y' are cold as death, an' pinched in the face, an' you've bruised my arm,' said i. and he looked round him slow and breathed hard, then drew his fingers through the sweat on his cheek. 'i'm not well, and i thought i heard--you heard it; what was it like?' said he; and he peered close at me. 'like water,' said i; 'a little creek near, and a flood comin' far off.' 'yes, just that,' said he; 'it's some trick of wind in the place, but it makes a man foolish, and an inch of brandy would be the right thing.' i didn't say no to that. and on we came, and brandy we had with a wish in the eye of nelly nolan that'd warm the heart of a tomb. . . . and there's a cud for your chewin', pierre. think that by the neck and the tail, and the divil absolve ye." during this, pierre had finished with the button. he had drawn on his coat and lifted his hat, and now lounged, trying the point of the needle with his forefinger. when shon ended, he said with a sidelong glance: "but what did you think of all that, shon?" "think! there it was! what's the use of thinkin'? there's many a trick in the world with wind or with spirit, as i've seen often enough in ould ireland, and it's not to be guessed by me." here his voice got a little lower and a trifle solemn. "for, pierre," spoke he, "there's what's more than life or death, and sorra wan can we tell what it is; but we'll know some day whin--" "when we've taken the leap at the almighty ditch," said pierre, with a grave kind of lightness. "yes, it is all strange. but even the almighty ditch is worth the doing: nearly everything is worth the doing; being young, growing old, fighting, loving--when youth is on--hating, eating, drinking, working, playing big games. all is worth it except two things." "and what are they, bedad?" "thy neighbour's wife and murder. those are horrible. they double on a man one time or another; always." here, as in curiosity, pierre pierced his finger with the needle, and watched the blood form in a little globule. looking at it meditatively and sardonically, he said: "there is only one end to these. blood for blood is a great matter; and i used to wonder if it would not be terrible for a man to see his death coming on him drop by drop, like that." he let the spot of blood fall to the floor. "but now i know that there is a punishment worse than that . . . 'mon dieu!' worse than that," he added. into shon's face a strange look had suddenly come. "yes, there's something worse than that, pierre." "so, 'bien?'" shon made the sacred gesture of his creed. "to be punished by the dead. and not see them--only hear them." and his eyes steadied firmly to the other's. pierre was about to reply, but there came the sound of footsteps through the open door, and presently wendling entered slowly. he was pale and worn, and his eyes looked out with a searching anxiousness. but that did not render him less comely. he had always dressed in black and white, and this now added to the easy and yet severe refinement of his person. his birth and breeding had occurred in places unfrequented by such as shon and pierre; but plains and wild life level all; and men are friends according to their taste and will, and by no other law. hence these with wendling. he stretched out his hand to each without a word. the handshake was unusual; he had little demonstration ever. shon looked up surprised, but responded. pierre followed with a swift, inquiring look; then, in the succeeding pause, he offered cigarettes. wendling took one; and all, silent, sat down. the sun streamed intemperately through the doorway, making a broad ribbon of light straight across the floor to wendling's feet. after lighting his cigarette, he looked into the sunlight for a moment, still not speaking. shon meanwhile had started his pipe, and now, as if he found the silence awkward,--"it's a day for god's country, this," he said: "to make man a christian for little or much, though he play with the divil betunewhiles." without looking at them, wendling said, in a low voice: "it was just such a day, down there in quebec, when it happened. you could hear the swill of the river, the water licking the piers, and the saws in the big mill and the little mill as they marched through the timber, flashing their teeth like bayonets. it's a wonderful sound on a hot, clear day--that wild, keen singing of the saws, like the cry of a live thing fighting and conquering. up from the fresh-cut lumber in the yards there came a smell like the juice of apples, and the sawdust, as you thrust your hand into it, was as cool and soft as the leaves of a clove-flower in the dew. on these days the town was always still. it looked sleeping, and you saw the heat quivering up from the wooden walls and the roofs of cedar shingles as though the houses were breathing." here he paused, still intent on the shaking sunshine. then he turned to the others as if suddenly aware that he had been talking to them. shon was about to speak, but pierre threw a restraining glance, and, instead, they all looked through the doorway and beyond. in the settlement below they saw the effect that wendling had described. the houses breathed. a grasshopper went clacking past, a dog at the door snapped up a fly; but there seemed no other life of day. wendling nodded his head towards the distance. "it was quiet, like that. i stood and watched the mills and the yards, and listened to the saws, and looked at the great slide, and the logs on the river: and i said ever to myself that it was all mine-all. then i turned to a big house on the hillock beyond the cedars, whose windows were open, with a cool dusk lying behind them. more than all else, i loved to think i owned that house and what was in it. . . . she was a beautiful woman. and she used to sit in a room facing the mill--though the house fronted another way--thinking of me, i did not doubt, and working at some delicate needle-stuff. there never had been a sharp word between us, save when i quarrelled bitterly with her brother, and he left the mill and went away. but she got over that mostly, though the lad's name was, never mentioned between us. that day i was so hungry for the sight of her that i got my field-glass--used to watch my vessels and rafts making across the bay--and trained it on the window where i knew she sat. i thought, it would amuse her, too, when i went back at night, if i told her what she had been doing. i laughed to myself at the thought of it as i adjusted the glass. . . . i looked. . . . there was no more laughing. . . . i saw her, and in front of her a man, with his back half on me. i could not recognise him, though at the instant i thought he was something familiar. i failed to get his face at all. hers i found indistinctly. but i saw him catch her playfully by the chin! after a little they rose. he put his arm about her and kissed her, and he ran his fingers through her hair. she had such fine golden hair--so light, and it lifted to every breath. something got into my brain. i know now it was the maggot which sent othello mad. the world in that hour was malicious, awful. . . . "after a time--it seemed ages, she and everything had receded so far-i went . . . home. at the door i asked the servant who had been there. she hesitated, confused, and then said the young curate of the parish. i was very cool: for madness is a strange thing; you see everything with an intense aching clearness--that is the trouble. . . . she was more kind than common. i do not think i was unusual. i was playing a part well, my grandmother had indian blood like yours, pierre, and i was waiting. i was even nicely critical of her to myself. i balanced the mole on her neck against her general beauty; the curve of her instep, i decided, was a little too emphatic. i passed her backwards and forwards, weighing her at every point; but yet these two things were the only imperfections. i pronounced her an exceeding piece of art--and infamy. i was much interested to see how she could appear perfect in her soul. i encouraged her to talk. i saw with devilish irony that an angel spoke. and, to cap it all, she assumed the fascinating air of the mediator--for her brother; seeking a reconciliation between us. her amazing art of person and mind so worked upon me that it became unendurable; it was so exquisite--and so shameless. i was sitting where the priest had sat that afternoon; and when she leaned towards me i caught her chin lightly and trailed my fingers through her hair as he had done: and that ended it, for i was cold, and my heart worked with horrible slowness. just as a wave poises at its height before breaking upon the shore, it hung at every pulse-beat, and then seemed to fall over with a sickening thud. i arose, and acting still, spoke impatiently of her brother. tears sprang to her eyes. such divine dissimulation, i thought--too good for earth. she turned to leave the room, and i did not stay her. yet we were together again that night. . . . i was only waiting." the cigarette had dropped from his fingers to the floor, and lay there smoking. shon's face was fixed with anxiety; pierre's eyes played gravely with the sunshine. wendling drew a heavy breath, and then went on. "again, next day, it was like this-the world draining the heat. . . . i watched from the big mill. i saw them again. he leaned over her chair and buried his face in her hair. the proof was absolute now. . . . i started away, going a roundabout, that i might not be seen. it took me some time. i was passing through a clump of cedar when i saw them making towards the trees skirting the river. their backs were on me. suddenly they diverted their steps--towards the great slide, shut off from water this last few months, and used as a quarry to deepen it. some petrified things had been found in the rocks, but i did not think they were going to these. i saw them climb down the rocky steps; and presently they were lost to view. the gates of the slide could be opened by machinery from the little mill. a terrible, deliciously malignant thought came to me. i remember how the sunlight crept away from me and left me in the dark. i stole through that darkness to the little mill. i went to the machinery for opening the gates. very gently i set it in motion, facing the slide as i did so. i could see it through the open sides of the mill. i smiled to think what the tiny creek, always creeping through a faint leak in the gates and falling with a granite rattle on the stones, would now become. i pushed the lever harder--harder. i saw the gates suddenly give, then fly open, and the river sprang roaring massively through them. i heard a shriek through the roar. i shuddered; and a horrible sickness came on me. . . . and as i turned from the machinery, i saw the young priest coming at me through a doorway! . . . it was not the priest and my wife that i had killed; but my wife and her brother. . . ." he threw his head back as though something clamped his throat. his voice roughened with misery. "the young priest buried them both, and people did not know the truth. they were even sorry for me. but i gave up the mills--all; and i became homeless . . . this." now he looked up at the two men, and said: "i have told you because you know something, and because there will, i think, be an end soon." he got up and reached out a trembling hand for a cigarette. pierre gave him one. "will you walk with me?" he asked. shon shook his head. "god forgive you," he replied, "i can't do it." but wendling and pierre left the hut together. they walked for an hour, scarcely speaking, and not considering where they went. at last pierre mechanically turned to go down into red glen. wendling stopped short, then, with a sighing laugh, strode on. "shoo has told you what happened here?" he said. pierre nodded. "and you know what came once when you walked with me.... the dead can strike," he added. pierre sought his eye. "the minister and the girl buried together that day," he said, "were--" he stopped, for behind him he heard the sharp, cold trickle of water. silent they walked on. it followed them. they could not get out of the glen now until they had compassed its length--the walls were high. the sound grew. the men faced each other. "good-bye," said wendling; and he reached out his hand swiftly. but pierre heard a mighty flood groaning on them, and he blinded as he stretched his arm in response. he caught at wendling's shoulder, but felt him lifted and carried away, while he himself stood still in a screeching wind and heard impalpable water rushing over him. in a minute it was gone; and he stood alone in red glen. he gathered himself up and ran. far down, where the glen opened to the plain, he found wendling. the hands were wrinkled; the face was cold; the body was wet: the man was drowned and dead. in pipi valley "divils me darlins, it's a memory i have of a time whin luck wasn't foldin' her arms round me, and not so far back aither, and i on the wallaby track hot-foot for the city o' gold." shon mcgann said this in the course of a discussion on the prosperity of pipi valley. pretty pierre remarked nonchalantly in reply,--"the wallaby track--eh--what is that, shon?" "it's a bit of a haythen y' are, pierre. the wallaby track? that's the name in australia for trampin' west through the plains of the never-never country lookin' for the luck o' the world; as, bedad, it's meself that knows it, and no other, and not by book or tellin' either, but with the grip of thirst at me throat and a reef in me belt every hour to quiet the gnawin'." and shon proceeded to light his pipe afresh. "but the city o' gold-was there much wealth for you there, shon?" shon laughed, and said between the puffs of smoke, "wealth for me, is it? oh, mother o' moses! wealth of work and the pride of livin' in the heart of us, and the grip of an honest hand betunewhiles; and what more do y' want, pierre?" the frenchman's drooping eyelids closed a little more, and he replied, meditatively: "money? no, that is not shon mcgann. the good fellowship of thirst?--yes, a little. the grip of the honest hand, quite, and the clinch of an honest waist? well, 'peut-etre.' "of the waist which is not honest?--tsh! he is gay--and so!" the irishman took his pipe from his mouth, and held it poised before him. he looked inquiringly and a little frowningly at the other for a moment, as if doubtful whether to resent the sneer that accompanied the words just spoken; but at last he good-humouredly said: "blood o' me bones, but it's much i fear the honest waist hasn't always been me portion--heaven forgive me!" "'nom de pipe,' this irishman!" replied pierre. "he is gay; of good heart; he smiles, and the women are at his heels; he laughs, and they are on their knees--such a fool he is!" still shon mcgann laughed. "a fool i am, pierre, or i'd be in ould ireland at this minute, with a roof o' me own over me and the friends o' me youth round me, and brats on me knee, and the fear o' god in me heart." "'mais,' shon," mockingly rejoined the frenchman, "this is not ireland, but there is much like that to be done here. there is a roof, and there is that woman at ward's mistake, and the brats--eh, by and by?" shon's face clouded. he hesitated, then replied sharply: "that woman, do y' say, pierre, she that nursed me when the honourable and meself were taken out o' sandy drift, more dead than livin'; she that brought me back to life as good as ever, barrin' this scar on me forehead and a stiffness at me elbow, and the honourable as right as the sun, more luck to him! which he doesn't need at all, with the wind of fortune in his back and shiftin' neither to right nor left. --that woman! faith, y'd better not cut the words so sharp betune yer teeth, pierre." "but i will say more--a little--just the same. she nursed you--well, that is good; but it is good also, i think, you pay her for that, and stop the rest. women are fools, or else they are worse. this one? she is worse. yes; you will take my advice, shon mcgann." the irishman came to his feet with a spring, and his words were angry. "it doesn't come well from pretty pierre, the gambler, to be revilin' a woman; and i throw it in y'r face, though i've slept under the same blanket with ye, an' drunk out of the same cup on manny a tramp, that you lie dirty and black when ye spake ill--of my wife." this conversation had occurred in a quiet corner of the bar-room of the saints' repose. the first few sentences had not been heard by the others present; but shon's last speech, delivered in a ringing tone, drew the miners to their feet, in expectation of seeing shots exchanged at once. the code required satisfaction, immediate and decisive. shon was not armed, and some one thrust a pistol towards him; but he did not take it. pierre rose, and coming slowly to him, laid a slender finger on his chest, and said: "so! i did not know that she was your wife. that is a surprise." the miners nodded assent. he continued: "lucy rives your wife! hola, shon mcgann, that is such a joke." "it's no joke, but god's truth, and the lie is with you, pierre." murmurs of anticipation ran round the room; but the half-breed said: "there will be satisfaction altogether; but it is my whim to prove what i say first; then"--fondling his revolver--"then we shall settle. but, see: you will meet me here at ten o'clock to-night, and i will make it, i swear to you, so clear, that the woman is vile." the irishman suddenly clutched the gambler, shook him like a dog, and threw him against the farther wall. pierre's pistol was levelled from the instant shon moved; but he did not use it. he rose on one knee after the violent fall, and pointing it at the other's head, said coolly: "i could kill you, my friend, so easy! but it is not my whim. till ten o'clock is not long to wait, and then, just here, one of us shall die. is it not so?" the irishman did not flinch before the pistol. he said with low fierceness, "at ten o'clock, or now, or any time, or at any place, y'll find me ready to break the back of the lies y've spoken, or be broken meself. lucy rives is my wife, and she's true and straight as the sun in the sky. i'll be here at ten o'clock, and as ye say, pierre, one of us makes the long reckoning for this." and he opened the door and went out. the half-breed moved to the bar, and, throwing down a handful of silver, said: "it is good we drink after so much heat. come on, come on, comrades." the miners responded to the invitation. their sympathy was mostly with shon mcgann; their admiration was about equally divided; for pretty pierre had the quality of courage in as active a degree as the irishman, and they knew that some extraordinary motive, promising greater excitement, was behind the frenchman's refusal to send a bullet through shon's head a moment before. king kinkley, the best shot in the valley next to pierre, had watched the unusual development of the incident with interest; and when his glass had been filled he said, thoughtfully: "this thing isn't according to hoyle. there's never been any trouble just like it in the valley before. what's that mcgann said about the lady being his wife? if it's the case, where hev we been in the show? where was we when the license was around? it isn't good citizenship, and i hev my doubts." another miner, known as the presbyterian, added: "there's some skulduggery in it, i guess. the lady has had as much protection as if she was the sister of every citizen of the place, just as much as lady jane here (lady jane, the daughter of the proprietor of the saints' repose, administered drinks), and she's played this stacked hand on us, has gone one better on the sly." "pierre," said king kinkley, "you're on the track of the secret, and appear to hev the advantage of the lady: blaze it--blaze it out." pierre rejoined, "i know something; but it is good we wait until ten o'clock. then i will show you all the cards in the pack. yes, so, 'bien sur.'" and though there was some grumbling, pierre had his way. the spirit of adventure and mutual interest had thrown the french half-breed, the irishman, and the hon. just trafford together on the cold side of the canadian rockies; and they had journeyed to this other side, where the warm breath from the pacific passed to its congealing in the ranges. they had come to the pipi field when it was languishing. from the moment of their coming its luck changed; it became prosperous. they conquered the valley each after his kind. the honourable--he was always called that--mastered its resources by a series of "great lucks," as pierre termed it, had achieved a fortune, and made no enemies; and but two months before the day whose incidents are here recorded, had gone to the coast on business. shon had won the reputation of being a "white man," to say nothing of his victories in the region of gallantry. he made no wealth; he only got that he might spend. irishman-like he would barter the chances of fortune for the lilt of a voice or the clatter of a pretty foot. pierre was different. "women, ah, no!" he would say, "they make men fools or devils." his temptation lay not that way. when the three first came to the pipi, pierre was a miner, simply; but nearly all his life he had been something else, as many a devastated pocket on the east of the rockies could bear witness; and his new career was alien to his soul. temptation grew greatly on him at the pipi, and in the days before he yielded to it he might have been seen at midnight in his but playing solitaire. why he abstained at first from practising his real profession is accounted for in two ways: he had tasted some of the sweets of honest companionship with the honourable and shon, and then he had a memory of an ugly night at pardon's drive a year before, when he stood over his own brother's body, shot to death by accident in a gambling row having its origin with himself. these things had held him back for a time; but he was weaker than his ruling passion. the pipi was a young and comparatively virgin field; the quarry was at his hand. he did not love money for its own sake; it was the game that enthralled him. he would have played his life against the treasury of a kingdom, and, winning it with loaded double sixes, have handed back the spoil as an unredeemable national debt. he fell at last, and in falling conquered the pipi valley; at the same time he was considered a fearless and liberal citizen, who could shoot as straight as he played well. he made an excursion to another field, however, at an opportune time, and it was during this interval that the accident to shon and the honourable had happened. he returned but a few hours before this quarrel with shon occurred, and in the saints' repose, whither he had at once gone, he was told of the accident. while his informant related the incident and the romantic sequence of shon's infatuation, the woman passed the tavern and was pointed out to pierre. the half-breed had not much excitableness in his nature, but when he saw this beautiful woman with a touch of the indian in her contour, his pale face flushed, and he showed his set teeth under his slight moustache. he watched her until she entered a shop, on the signboard of which was written--written since he had left a few months ago--lucy rives, tobacconist. shon had then entered the saints' repose; and we know the rest. a couple of hours after this nervous episode, pierre might have been seen standing in the shadow of the pines not far from the house at ward's mistake, where, he had been told, lucy rives lived with an old indian woman. he stood, scarcely moving, and smoking cigarettes, until the door opened. shon came out and walked down the hillside to the town. then pierre went to the door, and without knocking, opened it, and entered. a woman started up from a seat where she was sewing, and turned towards him. as she did so, the work, shon's coat, dropped from her hands, her face paled, and her eyes grew big with fear. she leaned against a chair for support--this man's presence had weakened her so. she stood silent, save for a slight moan that broke from her lips, as pierre lighted a cigarette coolly, and then said to an old indian woman who sat upon the floor braiding a basket: "get up, ikni, and go away." ikni rose, came over, and peered into the face of the half-breed. then she muttered: "i know you--i know you. the dead has come back again." she caught his arm with her bony fingers as if to satisfy herself that he was flesh and blood, and shaking her head dolefully, went from the room. when the door closed behind her there was silence, broken only by an exclamation from the man. the other drew her hand across her eyes, and dropped it with a motion of despair. then pierre said, sharply: "bien?" "francois," she replied, "you are alive!" "yes, i am alive, lucy." she shuddered, then grew still again and whispered: "why did you let it be thought that you were drowned? why? oh, why?" she moaned. he raised his eyebrows slightly, and between the puffs of smoke, said: "ah yes, my lucy, why? it was so long ago. let me see: so--so--ten years. ten years is a long time to remember, eh?" he came towards her. she drew back; but her hand remained on the chair. he touched the plain gold ring on her finger, and said: "you still wear it. to think of that--so loyal for a woman! how she remembers, holy mother! . . . but shall i not kiss you, yes, just once after eight years--my wife?" she breathed hard and drew back against the wall, dazed and frightened, and said: "no, no, do not come near me; do not speak to me--ah, please, stand back, for a moment--please!" he shrugged his shoulders slightly, and continued, with mock tenderness: "to think that things come round so! and here you have a home. but that is good. i am tired of much travel and life all alone. the prodigal goes not to the home, the home comes to the prodigal." he stretched up his arms as if with a feeling of content. "do you--do you not know," she said, "that--that--" he interrupted her: "do i not know, lucy, that this is your home? yes. but is it not all the same? i gave you a home ten years ago--to think, ten years ago! we quarrelled one night, and i left you. next morning my boat was found below the white cascade--yes, but that was so stale a trick! it was not worthy of francois rives. he would do it so much better now; but he was young then; just a boy, and foolish. well, sit down, lucy, it is a long story, and you have much to tell, how much--who knows?" she came slowly forward and said with a painful effort: "you did a great wrong, francois. you have killed me. "killed you, lucy, my wife! pardon! never in those days did you look so charming as now--never. but the great surprise of seeing your husband, it has made you shy, quite shy. there will be much time now for you to change all that. it is quite pleasant to think on, lucy. . . . you remember the song we used to sing on the chaudiere at st. antoine? see, i have not forgotten it- "'nos amants sont en guerre, vole, mon coeur, vole.'" he hummed the lines over and over, watching through his half-shut eyes the torture he was inflicting. "oh, mother of god," she whispered, "have mercy! can you not see, do you not know? i am not as you left me." "yes, my wife, you are just the same; not an hour older. i am glad that you have come to me. but how they will envy pretty pierre!" "envy--pretty-pierre," she repeated, in distress; "are you pretty pierre? ah, i might have known, i might have known!" "yes, and so! is not pretty pierre as good a name as francois rives? is it not as good as shon mcgann?" "oh, i see it all, i see it all now!" she said mournfully. "it was with you he quarrelled, and about me. he would not tell me what it was. you know, then, that i am--that i am married--to him?" "quite. i know all that; but it is no marriage." he rose to his feet slowly, dropping the cigarette from his lips as he did so. "yes," he continued, "and i know that you prefer shon mcgann to pretty pierre." she spread out her hands appealingly. "but you are my wife, not his. listen: do you know what i shall do? i will tell you in two hours. it is now eight o'clock. at ten o'clock shon mcgann will meet me at the saints' repose. then you shall know.... ah, it is a pity! shon was my good friend, but this spoils all that. wine--it has danger; cards--there is peril in that sport; women--they make trouble most of all." "o god," she piteously said, "what did i do? there was no sin in me. i was your faithful wife, though you were cruel to me. you left me, cheated me, brought this upon me. it is you that has done this wickedness, not i." she buried her face in her hands, falling on her knees beside the chair. he bent above her: "you loved the young avocat better, eight years ago." she sprang to her feet. "ah, now i understand,' she said. "that was why you quarrelled with me; why you deserted me. you were not man enough to say what made you so much the--so wicked and hard, so--" "be thankful, lucy, that i did not kill you then," he interjected. "but it is a lie," she cried; "a lie!" she went to the door and called the indian woman. "ikni," she said. "he dares to say evil of andre and me. think--of andre!" ikni came to him, put her wrinkled face close to his, and said: "she was yours, only yours; but the spirits gave you a devil. andre, oh, oh, andre! the father of andre was her father--ah, that makes your sulky eyes to open. ikni knows how to speak. ikni nursed them both. if you had waited you should have known. but you ran away like a wolf from a coal of fire; you shammed death like a fox; you come back like the snake to crawl into the house and strike with poison tooth, when you should be with the worms in the ground. but ikni knows--you shall be struck with poison too, the spirit of the red knife waits for you. andre was her brother." he pushed her aside savagely: "be still!" he said. "get out-quick. 'sacre'--quick!" when they were alone again he continued with no anger in his tone: "so, andre the avocat and you--that, eh? well, you see how much trouble has come; and now this other--a secret too. when were you married to shon mcgann?" "last night," she bitterly replied; "a priest came over from the indian village." "last night," he musingly repeated. "last night i lost two thousand dollars at the little goshen field. i did not play well last night; i was nervous. in ten years i had not lost so much at one game as i did last night. it was a punishment for playing too honest, or something; eh, what do you think, lucy--or something, 'hein?'" she said nothing, but rocked her body to and fro. "why did you not make known the marriage with shon?" "he was to have told it to-night," she said. there was silence for a moment, then a thought flashed into his eyes, and he rejoined with a jarring laugh, "well, i will play a game to-night, lucy rives; such a game that pretty pierre will never be forgotten in the pipi valley--a beautiful game, just for two. and the other who will play--the wife of francois rives shall see if she will wait; but she must be patient, more patient than her husband was ten years ago." "what will you do--tell me, what will you do?" "i will play a game of cards--just one magnificent game; and the cards shall settle it. all shall be quite fair, as when you and i played in the little house by the chaudiere--at first, lucy,--before i was a devil." was this peculiar softness to his last tones assumed or real? she looked at him inquiringly; but he moved away to the window, and stood gazing down the hillside towards the town below. his eyes smarted. "i will die," she said to herself in whispers--"i will die." a minute passed, and then pierre turned and said to her: "lucy, he is coming up the hill. listen. if you tell him that i have seen you, i will shoot him on sight, dead. you would save him, for a little, for an hour or two--or more? well, do as i say; for these things must be according to the rules of the game, and i myself will tell him all at the saints' repose. he gave me the lie there, and i will tell him the truth before them all there. will you do as i say?" she hesitated an instant, and then replied: "i will not tell him." "there is only one way, then," he continued. "you must go at once from here into the woods behind there, and not see him at all. then at ten o'clock you will come to the saints' repose, if you choose, to know how the game has ended." she was trembling, moaning, no longer. a set look had come into her face; her eyes were steady and hard. she quietly replied: "yes, i shall be there." he came to her, took her hand, and drew from her finger the wedding-ring which last night shon mcgann had placed there. she submitted passively. then, with an upward wave of his fingers, he spoke in a mocking lightness, but without any of the malice which had first appeared in his tones, words from an old french song: "i say no more, my lady mironton, mironton, mirontaine! i say no more, my lady, as nought more can be said." he opened the door, motioned to the indian woman, and, in a few moments, the broken-hearted lucy rives and her companion were hidden in the pines; and pretty pierre also disappeared into the shadow of the woods as shon mcgann appeared on the crest of the hill. the irishman walked slowly to the door, and pausing, said to himself: "i couldn't run the big risk, me darlin', without seein' you again, god help me! there's danger ahead which little i'd care for if it wasn't for you." then he stepped inside the house--the place was silent; he called, but no one answered; he threw open the doors of the rooms, but they were empty; he went outside and called again, but no reply came, except the flutter of a night-hawk's wings and the cry of a whippoorwill. he went back into the house and sat down with his head between his hands. so, for a moment, and then he raised his head, and said with a sad smile: "faith, shon, me boy, this takes the life out of you! the empty house where she ought to be, and the smile of her so swate, and the hand of her that falls on y'r shoulder like a dove on the blessed altar-gone, and lavin' a chill on y'r heart like a touch of the dead. sure, nivir a wan of me saw any that could stand wid her for goodness, barrin' the angel that kissed me good-bye with one foot in the stirrup an' the troopers behind me, now twelve years gone, in ould donegal, and that i'll niver see again, she lyin' where the hate of the world will vex the heart of her no more, and the masses gone up for her soul. twice, twice in y'r life, shon mcgann, has the cup of god's joy been at y'r lips, and is it both times that it's to spill?--pretty pierre shoots straight and sudden, and maybe it's aisy to see the end of it; but as the just god is above us, i'll give him the lie in his throat betimes for the word he said agin me darlin'. what's the avil thing that he has to say? what's the divil's proof he would bring? and where is she now? where are you, lucy? i know the proof i've got in me heart that the wreck of the world couldn't shake, while that light, born of heaven, swims up to your eyes whin you look at me!" he rose to his feet again and walked to and fro; he went once more to the doors; he looked here and there through the growing dusk, but to no purpose. she had said that she would not go to her shop this night; but if not, then where could she have gone and ikni, too? he felt there was more awry in his life than he cared to put into thought or speech. he picked up the sewing she had dropped and looked at it as one would regard a relic of the dead; he lifted her handkerchief, kissed it, and put it in his breast. he took a revolver from his pocket and examined it closely, looked round the room as though to fasten it in his memory, and then passed out, closing the door behind him. he walked down the hillside and went to her shop in the one street of the town, but she was not there, nor had the lad in charge seen her. meanwhile, pretty pierre had made his way to the saints' repose, and was sitting among the miners indolently smoking. in vain he was asked to play cards. his one reply was, "no, pardon, no! i play one game only to-night, the biggest game ever played in pipi valley." in vain, also, was he asked to drink. he refused the hospitality, defying the danger that such lack of good-fellowship might bring forth. he hummed in patches to himself the words of a song that the 'brules' were wont to sing when they hunted the buffalo: "'voila!' it is the sport to ride- ah, ah the brave hunter! to thrust the arrow in his hide, to send the bullet through his side 'ici,' the buffalo, 'joli!' ah, ah the buffalo!" he nodded here and there as men entered; but he did not stir from his seat. he smoked incessantly, and his eyes faced the door of the bar-room that entered upon the street. there was no doubt in the minds of any present that the promised excitement would occur. shon mcgann was as fearless as he was gay. and pipi valley remembered the day in which he had twice risked his life to save two women from a burning building--lady jane and another. and lady jane this evening was agitated, and once or twice furtively looked at something under the bar-counter; in fact, a close observer would have noticed anger or anxiety in the eyes of the daughter of dick waldron, the keeper of the saints' repose. pierre would certainly have seen it had he been looking that way. an unusual influence was working upon the frequenters of the busy tavern. planned, premeditated excitement was out of their line. unexpectedness was the salt of their existence. this thing had an air of system not in accord with the suddenness of the pipi mind. the half-breed was the only one entirely at his ease; he was languid and nonchalant; the long lashes of his half-shut eyelids gave his face a pensive look. at last king kinkley walked over to him and said: "there's an almighty mysteriousness about this event which isn't joyful, pretty pierre. we want to see the muss cleared up, of course; we want shon mcgann to act like a high-toned citizen, and there's a general prejudice in favour of things bein' on the flat of your palm, as it were. now this thing hangs fire, and there's a lack of animation about it, isn't there?" to this, pretty pierre replied: "what can i do? this is not like other things; one had to wait; great things take time. to shoot is easy; but to shoot is not all, as you shall see if you have a little patience. ah, my friend, where there is a woman, things are different. i throw a glass in your face, we shoot, someone dies, and there it is quite plain of reason; you play a card which was dealt just now, i call you-something, and the swiftest finger does the trick; but in such as this, one must wait for the sport." it was at this point that shon mcgann entered, looked round, nodded to all, and then came forward to the table where pretty pierre sat. as the other took out his watch, shon said firmly but quietly: "pierre, i gave you the lie to-day concerning me wife, and i'm here, as i said i'd be, to stand by the word i passed then." pierre waved his fingers lightly towards the other, and slowly rose. then he said in sharp tones: "yes, shon mcgann, you gave me the lie. there is but one thing for that in pipi valley. you choked me; i would not take that from a saint of heaven; but there was another thing to do first. well, i have done it; i said i would bring proofs--i have them." he paused, and now there might have been seen a shining moisture on his forehead, and his words came menacingly from between his teeth, while the room became breathlessly still, save that in the silence a sleeping dog sighed heavily: "shon mcgann," he added, "you are living with my wife." twenty men drew in a sharp breath of excitement, and shon came a step nearer the other, and said in a strange voice: "i--am--living--with-your--wife?" "as i say, with my wife, lucy rives. francois rives was my name ten years ago. we quarrelled. i left her, and i never saw her again until to-night. you went to see her two hours ago. you did not find her. why? she was gone because her husband, pierre, told her to go. you want a proof? you shall have it. here is the wedding-ring you gave her last night." he handed it over, and shon saw inside it his own name and hers. "my god!" he said. "did she know? tell me she didn't know, pierre?" "no, she did not know. i have truth to speak to night. i was jealous, mad, and foolish, and i left her. my boat was found upset. they believed i was drowned. 'bien,' she waited until yesterday, and then she took you--but she was my wife; she is my wife--and so you see!" the irishman was deadly pale. "it's an avil heart y' had in y' then, pretty pierre, and it's an avil day that brought this thing to pass, and there's only wan way to the end of it." "so, that is true. there is only one way," was the reply; "but what shall that way be? someone must go: there must be no mistake. i have to propose. here on this table we lay a revolver. we will give up these which we have in our pockets. then we will play a game of euchre, and the winner of the game shall have the revolver. we will play for a life. that is fair, eh--that is fair?" he said to those around. king kinkley, speaking for the rest, replied: "that's about fair. it gives both a chance, and leaves only two when it's over. while the woman lives, one of you is naturally in the way. pierre left her in a way that isn't handsome; but a wife's a wife, and though shon was all in the glum about the thing, and though the woman isn't to be blamed either, there's one too many of you, and there's got to be a vacation for somebody. isn't that so?" the rest nodded assent. they had been so engaged that they did not see a woman enter the bar from behind, and crouch down beside lady jane, a woman whom the latter touched affectionately on the shoulder and whispered to once or twice, while she watched the preparations for the game. the two men sat down, shon facing the bar and pierre with his back to it. the game began, neither man showing a sign of nervousness, though shon was very pale. the game was to finish for ten points. men crowded about the tables silent but keenly excited; cigars were chewed instead of smoked, and liquor was left undrunk. at the first deal pierre made a march, securing two. at the next shon made a point, and at the next also a march. the half-breed was playing a straight game. he could have stacked the cards, but he did not do so; deft as he was he might have cheated even the vigilant eyes about him, but it was not so; he played as squarely as a novice. at the third, at the fourth, deal he made a march; at the fifth, sixth, and seventh deals, shon made a march, a point, and a march. both now had eight points. at the next deal both got a point, and both stood at nine! now came the crucial play. during the progress of the game nothing had been heard save the sound of a knuckle on the table, the flip flip of the pasteboard, or the rasp of a heel on the floor. there was a set smile on shon's face--a forgotten smile, for the rest of the face was stern and tragic. pierre smoked cigarettes, pausing, while his opponent was shuffling and dealing, to light them. behind the bar as the game proceeded the woman who knelt beside lady jane listened to every sound. her eyes grew more agonised as the numbers, whispered to her by her companion, climbed to the fatal ten. the last deal was shon's; there was that much to his advantage. as he slowly dealt, the woman--lucy rives--rose to her feet behind lady jane. so absorbed were all that none saw her. her eyes passed from pierre to shon, and stayed. when the cards were dealt, with but one point for either to gain, and so win and save his life, there was a slight pause before the two took them up. they did not look at one another; but each glanced at the revolver, then at the men nearest them, and lastly, for an instant, at the cards themselves, with their pasteboard faces of life and death turned downward. as the players picked them up at last and spread them out fanlike, lady jane slipped something into the hand of lucy rives. those who stood behind shon mcgann stared with anxious astonishment at his hand; it contained only nine and ten spots. it was easy to see the direction of the sympathy of pipi valley. the irishman's face turned a slight shade paler, but he did not tremble or appear disturbed. pierre played his biggest card and took the point. he coolly counted one, and said, "game. i win." the crowd drew back. both rose to their feet. in the painful silence the half-breed's hand was gently laid on the revolver. he lifted it, and paused slightly, his eyes fixed to the steady look in those of shon mcgann. he raised the revolver again, till it was level with shon's forehead, till it was even with his hair! then there was a shot, and someone fell--not shon, but pierre, saying, as they caught him, "mon dieu! mon dieu! from behind!" instantly there was another shot, and someone crashed against the bottles in the bar. the other factor in the game, the wife, had shot at pierre, and then sent a bullet through her own lungs. shon stood for a moment as if he was turned to stone, and then his head dropped in his arms upon the table. he had seen both shots fired, but could not speak in time. pierre was severely but not dangerously wounded in the neck. but the woman--? they brought her out from behind the counter. she still breathed; but on her eyes was the film of coming death. she turned to where shon sat. her lips framed his name, but no voice came forth. someone touched him on the shoulder. he looked up and caught her last glance. he came and stooped beside her; but she had died with that one glance from him, bringing a faint smile to her lips. and the smile stayed when the life of her had fled--fled through the cloud over her eyes, from the tide-beat of her pulse. it swept out from the smoke and reeking air into the open world, and beyond, into those untried paths where all must walk alone, and in what bitterness, known only to the master of the world who sees these piteous things, and orders in what fashion distorted lives shall be made straight and wholesome in the places of readjustment. shon stood silent above the dead body. one by one the miners went out quietly. presently pierre nodded towards the door, and king kinkley and another lifted him and carried him towards it. before they passed into the street he made them turn him so that he could see shon. he waved his hand towards her that had been his wife, and said: "she should have shot but once and straight, shon mcgann, and then!--eh, 'bien!'" the door closed, and shon mcgann was left alone with the dead. etext editor's bookmarks: irishmen have gifts for only two things--words and women more idle than wicked reconciling the preacher and the sinner, as many another has this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] pierre and his people tales of the far north by gilbert parker volume 3. shon mcgann's tobogan ride pere champagne the scarlet hunter the stone shon mcgann's tobogan ride "oh, it's down the long side of farcalladen rise, with the knees pressing hard to the saddle, my men; with the sparks from the hoofs giving light to the eyes, and our hearts beating hard as we rode to the glen! "and it's back with the ring of the chain and the spur, and it's back with the sun on the hill and the moor, and it's back is the thought sets my pulses astir! but i'll never go back to farcalladen more." shon mcgann was lying on a pile of buffalo robes in a mountain hut,--an australian would call it a humpey,--singing thus to himself with his pipe between his teeth. in the room, besides shon, were pretty pierre, jo gordineer, the hon. just trafford, called by his companions simply "the honourable," and prince levis, the owner of the establishment. not that monsieur levis, the french canadian, was really a prince. the name was given to him with a humorous cynicism peculiar to the rockies. we have little to do with prince levis here; but since he may appear elsewhere, this explanation is made. jo gordineer had been telling the honourable about the ghost of guidon mountain, and pretty pierre was collaborating with their host in the preparation of what, in the presence of the law--that is of the northwest mounted police--was called ginger-tea, in consideration of the prohibition statute. shon mcgann had been left to himself--an unusual thing; for everyone had a shot at shon when opportunity occurred; and never a bull's-eye could they make on him. his wit was like the shield of a certain personage of mythology. he had wandered on from verse to verse of the song with one eye on the collaborators and an ear open to the honourable's polite exclamations of wonder. jo had, however, come to the end of his weird tale--for weird it certainly was, told at the foot of guidon mountain itself, and in a region of vast solitudes--the pair of chemists were approaching "the supreme union of unctuous elements," as the honourable put it, and in the silence that fell for a moment there crept the words of the singer: "and it's down the long side of farcalladen rise, and it's swift as an arrow and straight as a spear--" jo gordineer interrupted. "say, shon, when'll you be through that tobogan ride of yours? aint there any end to it?" but shon was looking with both eyes now at the collaborators, and he sang softly on: "and it's keen as the frost when the summer-time dies, that we rode to the glen and with never a fear." then he added: "the end's cut off, joey, me boy; but what's a tobogan ride, annyway?" "listen to that, pierre. i'll be eternally shivered if he knows what a tobogan ride is!" "hot shivers it'll be for you, joey, me boy, and no quinine over the bar aither," said shon. "tell him what a tobogan ride is, pierre." and pretty pierre said: "eh, well, i will tell you. it is like-no, you have the word precise, joseph. eh? what?" pierre then added something in french. shon did not understand it, but he saw the honourable smile, so with a gentle kind of contempt he went on singing: "and it's hey for the hedge, and it's hey for the wall! and it's over the stream with an echoing cry; and there's three fled for ever from old donegal, and there's two that have shown how bold irishmen die." the honourable then said, "what is that all about, shon? i never heard the song before." "no more you did. and i wish i could see the lad that wrote that song, livin' or dead. if one of ye's will tell me about your tobogan rides, i'll unfold about farcalladen rise." prince levis passed the liquor. pretty pierre, seated on a candle-box, with a glass in his delicate fingers, said: "eh, well, the honourable has much language. he can speak, precise--this would be better with a little lemon, just a little,--the honourable, he, perhaps, will tell. eh?" pretty pierre was showing his white teeth. at this stage in his career, he did not love the honourable. the honourable understood that, but he made clear to shon's mind what toboganing is. and shon, on his part, with fresh and hearty voice, touched here and there by a plaintive modulation, told about that ride on farcalladen rise; a tale of broken laws, and fight and fighting, and death and exile; and never a word of hatred in it all. "and the writer of the song, who was he?" asked the honourable. "a gentleman after god's own heart. heaven rest his soul, if he's dead, which i'm thinkin' is so, and give him the luck of the world if he's livin', say i. but it's little i know what's come to him. in the heart of australia i saw him last; and mates we were together after gold. and little gold did we get but what was in the heart of him. and we parted one day, i carryin' the song that he wrote for me of farcalladen rise, and the memory of him; and him givin' me the word,'i'll not forget you, shon, me boy, whatever comes; remember that. and a short pull of the three-star together for the partin' salute,' says he. and the three-star in one sup each we took, as solemn as the mass, and he went away towards cloncurry and i to the coast; and that's the last that i saw of him, now three years gone. and here i am, and i wish i was with him wherever he is." "what was his name"? said the honourable. "lawless." the fingers of the honourable trembled on his cigar. "very interesting, shon," he said, as he rose, puffing hard till his face was in a cloud of smoke. "you had many adventures together, i suppose," he continued. "adventures we had and sufferin' bewhiles, and fun, too, to the neck and flowin' over." "you'll spin us a long yarn about them another night, shon"? said the honourable. "i'll do it now--a yarn as long as the lies of the government; and proud of the chance." "not to-night, shon" (there was a kind of huskiness in the voice of the honourable); "it's time to turn in. we've a long tramp over the glacier to-morrow, and we must start at sunrise." the honourable was in command of the party, though jo gordineer was the guide, and all were, for the moment, miners, making for the little goshen field over in pipi valley.--at least pretty pierre said he was a miner. no one thought of disputing the authority of the honourable, and they all rose. in a few minutes there was silence in the hut, save for the oracular breathing of prince levis and the sparks from the fire. but the honourable did not sleep well; he lay and watched the fire through most of the night. the day was clear, glowing, decisive. not a cloud in the curve of azure, not a shiver of wind down the canon, not a frown in nature, if we except the lowering shadows from the shoulders of the giants of the range. crowning the shadows was a splendid helmet of light, rich with the dyes of the morning; the pines were touched with a brilliant if austere warmth. the pride of lofty lineage and severe isolation was regnant over all. and up through the splendour, and the shadows, and the loneliness, and the austere warmth, must our travellers go. must go? scarcely that, but the honourable had made up his mind to cross the glacier and none sought to dissuade him from his choice; the more so, because there was something of danger in the business. pretty pierre had merely shrugged his shoulders at the suggestion, and had said: "'nom de dieu,' the higher we go the faster we live, that is something." "sometimes we live ourselves to death too quickly. in my schooldays i watched a mouse in a jar of oxygen do that;" said the honourable. "that is the best way to die," remarked the halfbreed--"much." jo gordineer had been over the path before. he was confident of the way, and proud of his office of guide. "climb mont blanc, if you will," said the honourable, "but leave me these white bastions of the selkirks." even so. they have not seen the snowy hills of god who have yet to look upon the rocky mountains, absolute, stupendous, sublimely grave. jo gordineer and pretty pierre strode on together. they being well away from the other two, the honourable turned and said to shon: "what was the name of the man who wrote that song of yours, again, shon?" "lawless." "yes, but his first name?" "duke--duke lawless." there was a pause, in which the other seemed to be intently studying the glacier above them. then he said: "what was he like?--in appearance, i mean." "a trifle more than your six feet, about your colour of hair and eyes, and with a trick of smilin' that would melt the heart of an exciseman, and o'connell's own at a joke, barrin' a time or two that he got hold of a pile of papers from the ould country. by the grave of st. shon! thin he was as dry of fun as a piece of blotting paper. and he said at last, before he was aisy and free again, 'shon,' says he, 'it's better to burn your ships behind ye, isn't it?' "and i, havin' thought of a glen in ould ireland that i'll never see again, nor any that's in it, said: 'not, only burn them to the water's edge, duke lawless, but swear to your own soul that they never lived but in the dreams of the night.' "'you're right there, shon,' says he, and after that no luck was bad enough to cloud the gay heart of him, and bad enough it was sometimes." "and why do you fear that he is not alive?" "because i met an old mate of mine one day on the frazer, and he said that lawless had never come to cloncurry; and a hard, hard road it was to travel." jo gordineer was calling to them, and there the conversation ended. in a few minutes the four stood on the edge of the glacier. each man had a long hickory stick which served as alpenstock, a bag hung at his side, and tied to his back was his gold-pan, the hollow side in, of course. shon's was tied a little lower down than the others. they passed up this solid river of ice, this giant power at endless strife with the high hills, up towards its head. the honourable was the first to reach the point of vantage, and to look down upon the vast and wandering fissures, the frigid bulwarks, the great fortresses of ice, the ceaseless snows, the aisles of this mountain sanctuary through which nature's splendid anthems rolled. shon was a short distance below, with his hand over his eyes, sweeping the semi-circle of glory. suddenly there was a sharp cry from pierre: "mon dieu! look!" shon mcgann had fallen on a smooth pavement of ice. the gold-pan was beneath him, and down the glacier he was whirled-whirled, for shon had thrust his heels in the snow and ice, and the gold-pan performed a series of circles as it sped down the incline. his fingers clutched the ice and snow, but they only left a red mark of blood behind. must he go the whole course of that frozen slide, plump into the wild depths below? "'mon dieu!--mon dieu!'" said pretty pierre, piteously. the face of the honourable was set and tense. jo gordineer's hand clutched his throat as if he choked. still shon sped. it was a matter of seconds only. the tragedy crowded to the awful end. but, no. there was a tilt in the glacier, and the gold-pan, suddenly swirling, again swung to the outer edge, and shot over. as if hurled from a catapult, the irishman was ejected from the white monster's back. he fell on a wide shelf of ice, covered with light snow, through which he was tunnelled, and dropped on another ledge below, near the path by which he and his companions had ascended. "shied from the finish, by god!" said jo gordineer. "'le pauvre shon!'" added pretty pierre. the honourable was making his way down, his brain haunted by the words, "he'll never go back to farcalladen more." but jo was right. for shon mcgann was alive. he lay breathless, helpless, for a moment; then he sat up and scanned his lacerated fingers: he looked up the path by which he had come; he looked down the path he seemed destined to go; he started to scratch his head, but paused in the act, by reason of his fingers. then he said: "it's my mother wouldn't know me from a can of cold meat if i hadn't stopped at this station; but wurrawurra, what a car it was to come in!" he examined his tattered clothes and bare elbows; then he unbuckled the gold-pan, and no easy task was it with his ragged fingers. "'twas not for deep minin' i brought ye," he said to the pan, "nor for scrapin' the clothes from me back." just then the honourable came up. "shon, my man . . . alive, thank god! how is it with you?" "i'm hardly worth the lookin' at. i wouldn't turn my back to ye for a ransom." "it's enough that you're here at all." "ah, 'voila!' this irishman!" said pretty pierre, as his light fingers touched shon's bruised arm gently. this from pretty pierre! there was that in the voice which went to shon's heart. who could have guessed that this outlaw of the north would ever show a sign of sympathy or friendship for anybody? but it goes to prove that you can never be exact in your estimate of character. jo gordineer only said jestingly: "say, now, what are you doing, shon, bringing us down here, when we might be well into the valley by this time?" "that in your face and the hair aff your head," said shon; "it's little you know a tobogan ride when you see one. i'll take my share of the grog, by the same token." the honourable uncorked his flask. shon threw back his head with a laugh. "for it's rest when the gallop is over, me men! and it's here's to the lads that have ridden their last; and it's here's--" but shon had fainted with the flask in his hand and this snatch of a song on his lips. they reached shelter that night. had it not been for the accident, they would have got to their destination in the valley; but here they were twelve miles from it. whether this was fortunate or unfortunate may be seen later. comfortably bestowed in this mountain tavern, after they had toasted and eaten their venison and lit their pipes, they drew about the fire. besides the four, there was a figure that lay sleeping in a corner on a pile of pine branches, wrapped in a bearskin robe. whoever it was slept soundly. "and what was it like--the gold-pan flyer--the tobogan ride, shon?" remarked jo gordineer. "what was it like?--what was it like"? replied shon. "sure, i couldn't see what it was like for the stars that were hittin' me in the eyes. there wasn't any world at all. i was ridin' on a streak of lightnin', and nivir a rubber for the wheels; and my fingers makin' stripes of blood on the snow; and now the stars that were hittin' me were white, and thin they were red, and sometimes blue--" "the stars and stripes," inconsiderately remarked jo gordineer. "and there wasn't any beginning to things, nor any end of them; and whin i struck the snow and cut down the core of it like a cat through a glass, i was willin' to say with the prophet of ireland--" "are you going to pass the liniment, pretty pierre?" it was jo gordineer said that. what the prophet of israel did say--israel and ireland were identical to shon--was never told. shon's bubbling sarcasm was full-stopped by the beneficent savour that, rising now from the hands of the four, silenced all irrelevant speech. it was a function of importance. it was not simply necessary to say how! or here's reformation! or i look towards you! as if by a common instinct, the honourable, jo gordineer, and pretty pierre, turned towards shon and lifted their glasses. jo gordineer was going to say: "here's a safe foot in the stirrups to you," but he changed his mind and drank in silence. shon's eye had been blazing with fun, but it took on, all at once, a misty twinkle. none of them had quite bargained for this. the feeling had come like a wave of soft lightning, and had passed through them. did it come from the irishman himself? was it his own nature acting through those who called him "partner"? pretty pierre got up and kicked savagely at the wood in the big fireplace. he ostentatiously and needlessly put another log of norfolkpine upon the fire. the honourable gaily suggested a song. "sing us 'avec les braves sauvages,' pierre," said jo gordineer. but pierre waved his fingers towards shon: "shon, his song--he did not finish--on the glacier. it is good we hear all. 'hein?'" and so shon sang: "oh it's down the long side of farcalladen rise." the sleeper on the pine branches stirred nervously, as if the song were coming through a dream to him. at the third verse he started up, and an eager, sun-burned face peered from the half-darkness at the singer. the honourable was sitting in the shadow, with his back to the new actor in the scene. "for it's rest when the gallop is over, my men i and it's here's to the lads that have ridden their last! and it's here's--" shon paused. one of those strange lapses of memory came to him which come at times to most of us concerning familiar things. he could get no further than he did on the mountain side. he passed his hand over his forehead, stupidly:--"saints forgive me; but it's gone from me, and sorra the one can i get it; me that had it by heart, and the lad that wrote it far away. death in the world, but i'll try it again! "for it's rest when the gallop is over, my men! and it's here's to the lads that have ridden their last! and it's here's--" again he paused. but from the half-darkness there came a voice, a clear baritone: "and here's to the lasses we leave in the glen, with a smile for the future, a sigh for the past." at the last words the figure strode down into the firelight. "shon, old friend, don't you know me?" shon had started to his feet at the first note of the voice, and stood as if spellbound. there was no shaking of hands. both men held each other hard by the shoulders, and stood so for a moment looking steadily eye to eye. then shon said: "duke lawless, there's parallels of latitude and parallels of longitude, but who knows the tomb of ould brian borhoime?" which was his way of saying, "how come you here?" duke lawless turned to the others before he replied. his eyes fell on the honourable. with a start and a step backward, and with a peculiar angry dryness in his voice, he said: "just trafford!" "yes," replied the honourable, smiling, "i have found you." "found me! and why have you sought me? me, duke lawless? i should have thought--" the honourable interrupted: "to tell you that you are sir duke lawless." "that? you sought me to tell me that?" "i did." "you are sure? and for naught else?" "as i live, duke." the eyes fixed on the honourable were searching. sir duke hesitated, then held out his hand. in a swift but cordial silence it was taken. nothing more could be said then. it is only in plays where gentlemen freely discuss family affairs before a curious public. pretty pierre was busy with a decoction. jo gordineer was his associate. shon had drawn back, and was apparently examining the indentations on his gold-pan. "shon, old fellow, come here," said sir duke lawless. but shon had received a shock. "it's little i knew sir duke lawless--" he said. "it's little you needed to know then, or need to know now, shon, my friend. i'm duke lawless to you here and henceforth, as ever i was then, on the wallaby track." and shon believed him. the glasses were ready. "i'll give the toast," said the honourable with a gentle gravity. "to shon mcgann and his tobogan ride!" "i'll drink to the first half of it with all my heart," said sir duke. "it's all i know about." "amen to that divorce," rejoined shon. "but were it not for the tobogan ride we shouldn't have stopped here," said the honourable; "and where would this meeting have been?" "that alters the case," sir duke remarked. "i take back the 'amen,'" said shon. ii whatever claims shon had upon the companionship of sir duke lawless, he knew there were other claims that were more pressing. after the toast was finished, with an emphasised assumption of weariness, and a hint of a long yarn on the morrow, he picked up his blanket and started for the room where all were to sleep. the real reason of this early departure was clear to pretty pierre at once, and in due time it dawned upon jo gordineer. the two englishmen, left alone, sat for a few moments silent and smoking hard. then the honourable rose, got his knapsack, and took out a small number of papers, which he handed to sir duke, saying, "by slow postal service to sir duke lawless. residence, somewhere on one of five continents." an envelope bearing a woman's writing was the first thing that met sir duke's eye. he stared, took it out, turned it over, looked curiously at the honourable for a moment, and then began to break the seal. "wait, duke. do not read that. we have something to say to each other first." sir duke laid the letter down. "you have some explanation to make," he said. "it was so long ago; mightn't it be better to go over the story again?" "perhaps." "then it is best you should tell it. i am on my defence, you know." sir duke leaned back, and a frown gathered on his forehead. strikingly out of place on his fresh face it seemed. looking quickly from the fire to the face of the honourable and back again earnestly, as if the full force of what was required came to him, he said: "we shall get the perspective better if we put the tale in the third person. duke lawless was the heir to the title and estates of trafford court. next in succession to him was just trafford, his cousin. lawless had an income sufficient for a man of moderate tastes. trafford had not quite that, but he had his profession of the law. at college they had been fast friends, but afterwards had drifted apart, through no cause save difference of pursuits and circumstances. friends they still were and likely to be so always. one summer, when on a visit to his uncle, admiral sir clavel lawless, at trafford court, where a party of people had been invited for a month, duke lawless fell in love with miss emily dorset. she did him the honour to prefer him to any other man--at least, he thought so. her income, however, was limited like his own. the engagement was not announced, for lawless wished to make a home before he took a wife. he inclined to ranching in canada, or a planter's life in queensland. the eight or ten thousand pounds necessary was not, however, easy to get for the start, and he hadn't the least notion of discounting the future, by asking the admiral's help. besides, he knew his uncle did not wish him to marry unless he married a woman plus a fortune. while things were in this uncertain state, just trafford arrived on a visit to trafford court. the meeting of the old friends was cordial. immediately on trafford's arrival, however, the current of events changed. things occurred which brought disaster. it was noticeable that miss emily dorset began to see a deal more of admiral lawless and just trafford, and a deal less of the younger lawless. one day duke lawless came back to the house unexpectedly, his horse having knocked up on the road. on entering the library he saw what turned the course of his life." sir duke here paused, sighed, shook the ashes out of his pipe with a grave and expressive anxiety which did not properly belong to the action, and remained for a moment, both arms on his knees, silent, and looking at the fire. then he continued: "just trafford sat beside emily dorset in an attitude of--say, affectionate consideration. she had been weeping, and her whole manner suggested very touching confidences. they both rose on the entrance of lawless; but neither tried to say a word. what could they say? lawless apologised, took a book from the table which he had not come for, and left." again sir duke paused. "the book was an illustrated much ado about nothing," said the honourable. "a few hours after, lawless had an interview with emily dorset. he demanded, with a good deal of feeling, perhaps,--for he was romantic enough to love the girl,--an explanation. he would have asked it of trafford first if he had seen him. she said lawless should trust her; that she had no explanation at that moment to give. if he waited--but lawless asked her if she cared for him at all, if she wished or intended to marry him? she replied lightly, 'perhaps, when you become sir duke lawless.' then lawless accused her of heartlessness, and of encouraging both his uncle and just trafford. she amusingly said, 'perhaps she had, but it really didn't matter, did it?' for reply, lawless said her interest in the whole family seemed active and impartial. he bade her not vex herself at all about him, and not to wait until he became sir duke lawless, but to give preference to seniority and begin with the title at once; which he has reason since to believe that she did. what he said to her he has been sorry for, not because he thinks it was undeserved, but because he has never been able since to rouse himself to anger on the subject, nor to hate the girl and just trafford as he ought. of the dead he is silent altogether. he never sought an explanation from just trafford, for he left that night for london, and in two days was on his way to australia. the day he left, however, he received a note from his banker saying that l8000 had been placed to his credit by admiral lawless. feeling the indignity of what he believed was the cause of the gift, lawless neither acknowledged it nor used it, not any penny of it. five years have gone since then, and lawless has wandered over two continents, a self-created exile. he has learned much that he didn't learn at oxford; and not the least of all, that the world is not so bad as is claimed for it, that it isn't worth while hating and cherishing hate, that evil is half-accidental, half-natural, and that hard work in the face of nature is the thing to pull a man together and strengthen him for his place in the universe. having burned his ships behind him, that is the way lawless feels. and the story is told." just trafford sat looking musingly but imperturbably at sir duke for a minute; then he said: "that is your interpretation of the story, but not the story. let us turn the medal over now. and, first, let trafford say that he has the permission of emily dorset--" sir duke interrupted: "of her who was emily dorset." "of miss emily dorset, to tell what she did not tell that day five years ago. after this other reading of the tale has been rendered, her letter and those documents are there for fuller testimony. just trafford's part in the drama begins, of course, with the library scene. now duke lawless had never known trafford's half-brother, hall vincent. hall was born in india, and had lived there most of his life. he was in the indian police, and had married a clever, beautiful, but impossible kind of girl, against the wishes of her parents. the marriage was not a very happy one. this was partly owing to the quick lawless and trafford blood, partly to the wife's wilfulness. hall thought that things might go better if he came to england to live. on their way from madras to colombo he had some words with his wife one day about the way she arranged her hair, but nothing serious. this was shortly after tiffin. that evening they entered the harbour at colombo; and hall going to his cabin to seek his wife, could not find her; but in her stead was her hair, arranged carefully in flowing waves on the pillow, where through the voyage her head had lain. that she had cut it off and laid it there was plain; but she could not be found, nor was she ever found. the large porthole was open; this was the only clue. but we need not go further into that. hall vincent came home to england. he told his brother the story as it has been told to you, and then left for south america, a broken-spirited man. the wife's family came on to england also. they did not meet hall vincent; but one day just trafford met at a country seat in devon, for the first time, the wife's sister. she had not known of the relationship between hall vincent and the traffords; and on a memorable afternoon he told her the full story of the married life and the final disaster, as hall had told it to him." sir duke sprang to his feet. "you mean, just, that--" "i mean that emily dorset was the sister of hall vincent's wife." sir duke's brown fingers clasped and unclasped nervously. he was about to speak, but the honourable said: "that is only half the story--wait. "emily dorset would have told lawless all in due time, but women don't like to be bullied ever so little, and that, and the unhappiness of the thing, kept her silent in her short interview with lawless. she could not have guessed that lawless would go as he did. now, the secret of her diplomacy with the uncle--diplomacy is the best word to use--was duke lawless's advancement. she knew how he had set his heart on the ranching or planting life. she would have married him without a penny, but she felt his pride in that particular, and respected it. so, like a clever girl, she determined to make the old chap give lawless a cheque on his possible future. perhaps, as things progressed, the same old chap got an absurd notion in his head about marrying her to just trafford, but that was meanwhile all the better for lawless. the very day that emily dorset and just trafford succeeded in melting admiral lawless's heart to the tune of eight thousand, was the day that duke lawless doubted his friend and challenged the loyalty of the girl he loved." sir duke's eyes filled. "great heaven! just--" he said. "be quiet for a little. you see she had taken trafford into her scheme against his will, for he was never good at mysteries and theatricals, and he saw the danger. but the cause was a good one, and he joined the sweet conspiracy, with what result these five years bear witness. admiral lawless has been dead a year and a half, his wife a year. for he married out of anger with duke lawless; but he did not marry emily dorset, nor did he beget a child." "in australia i saw a paragraph speaking of a visit made by him and lady lawless to a hospital, and i thought--" "you thought he had married emily dorset and--well, you had better read that letter now." sir duke's face was flushing with remorse and pain. he drew his hand quickly across his eyes. "and you've given up london, your profession, everything, just to hunt for me, to tell me this--you who would have profited by my eternal absence! what a beast and ass i've been!" "not at all; only a bit poetical and hasty, which is not unnatural in the lawless blood. i should have been wild myself, maybe, if i had been in your position; only i shouldn't have left england, and i should have taken the papers regularly and have asked the other fellow to explain. the other fellow didn't like the little conspiracy. women, however, seem to find that kind of thing a moral necessity. by the way, i wish when you go back you'd send me out my hunting traps. i've made up my mind to--oh, quite so--read the letter--i forgot!" sir duke opened the letter and read it, putting it away from him now and then as if it hurt him, and taking it up a moment after to continue the reading. the honourable watched him. at last sir duke rose. "just--" "yes? go on." "do you think she would have me now?" "don't know. your outfit is not so beautiful as it used to be." "don't chaff me." "don't be so funereal, then." under the honourable's matter of fact air sir duke's face began to clear. "tell me, do you think she still cares for me?" "well, i don't know. she's rich now--got the grandmother's stocking. then there's pedley, of the scots guards; he has been doing loyal service for a couple of years. what does the letter say?" "it only tells the truth, as you have told it to me, but from her standpoint; not a word that says anything but beautiful reproach and general kindness. that is all." "quite so. you see it was all four years ago, and pedley--" but the honourable paused. he had punished his friend enough. he stepped forward and laid his hand on sir duke's shoulder. "duke, you want to pick up the threads where they were dropped. you dropped them. ask me nothing about the ends that emily dorset held. i conspire no more. but go you and learn your fate. if one remembers, why should the other forget?" sir duke's light heart and eager faith came back with a rush. "i'll start for england at once. i'll know the worst or the best of it before three months are out." the honourable's slow placidity turned. "three months.--yes, you may do it in that time. better go from victoria to san francisco and then overland. you'll not forget about my hunting traps, and--oh, certainly, gordineer; come in." "say," said gordineer. "i don't want to disturb the meeting, but shon's in chancery somehow; breathing like a white pine, and thrashing about! he's red-hot with fever." before he had time to say more, sir duke seized the candle and entered the room. shon was moving uneasily and suppressing the groans that shook him. "shon, old friend, what is it?" "it's the pain here, lawless," laying his hand on his chest. after a moment sir duke said, "pneumonia!" from that instant thoughts of himself were sunk in the care and thought of the man who in the heart of queensland had been mate and friend and brother to him. he did not start for england the next day, nor for many a day. pretty pierre and jo gordineer and his party carried sir duke's letters over into the pipi valley, from where they could be sent on to the coast. pierre came back in a few days to see how shon was, and expressed his determination of staying to help sir duke, if need be. shon hovered between life and death. it was not alone the pneumonia that racked his system so; there was also the shock he had received in his flight down the glacier. in his delirium he seemed to be always with lawless: "'for it's down the long side of farcalladen rise'--it's share and share even, lawless, and ye'll ate the rest of it, or i'll lave ye--did ye say ye'd found water--lawless--water!--sure you're drinkin' none yourself-i'll sing it again for you then--'and it's back with the ring of the chain and the spur'--'but burn all your ships behind you'--'i'll never go back to farcalladen more!'" sir duke's fingers had a trick of kindness, a suggestion of comfort, a sense of healing, that made his simple remedies do more than natural duty. he was doctor, nurse,--sleepless nurse,--and careful apothecary. and when at last the danger was past and he could relax watching, he would not go, and he did not go, till they could all travel to the pipi valley. in the blue shadows of the firs they stand as we take our leave of one of them. the honourable and sir duke have had their last words, and sir duke has said he will remember about the hunting traps. they understand each other. there is sunshine in the face of all--a kind of indian summer sunshine, infused with the sadness of a coming winter; and theirs is the winter of parting. yet it is all done quietly. "we'll meet again, shon," said sir duke, "and you'll remember your promise to write to me." "i'll keep my promise, and i hope the news that'll please you best is what you'll send us first from england. and if you should go to ould donegal--i've no words for me thoughts at all!" "i know them. don't try to say them. we've not had the luck together, all kinds and all weathers, for nothing." sir duke's eyes smiled a good-bye into the smiling eyes of shon. they were much alike, these two, whose stations were so far apart. yet somewhere, in generations gone, their ancestors may have toiled, feasted, or governed, in the same social hemisphere; and here in the mountains life was levelled to one degree again. sir duke looked round. the pines were crowding up elate and warm towards the peaks of the white silence. the river was brawling over a broken pathway of boulders at their feet; round the edge of a mighty mountain crept a mule train; a far-off glacier glistened harshly in the lucid morning, yet not harshly either, but with the rugged form of a vast antiquity, from which these scarred and grimly austere hills had grown. here nature was filled with a sense of triumphant mastery--the mastery of ageless experience. and down the great piles there blew a wind of stirring life, of the composure of great strength, and touched the four, and the man that mounted now was turned to go. a quick good-bye from him to all; a god-speed-you from the honourable; a wave of the hand between the rider and shon, and sir duke lawless was gone. "you had better cook the last of that bear this morning, pierre," said the honourable. and their life went on. ........................ it was eight months after that, sitting in their hut after a day's successful mining, the honourable handed shon a newspaper to read. a paragraph was marked. it concerned the marriage of miss emily dorset and sir duke lawless. and while shon read, the honourable called into the tent: "have you any lemons for the whisky, pierre?" a satisfactory reply being returned, the honourable proceeded: "we'll begin with the bottle of pommery, which i've been saving months for this." the royal-flush toast of the evening belonged to shon. "god bless him! to the day when we see him again!" and all of them saw that day. pere champagne "is it that we stand at the top of the hill and the end of the travel has come, pierre? why don't you spake?" "we stand at the top of the hill, and it is the end." "and lonely valley is at our feet and whiteface mountain beyond?" "one at our feet, and the other beyond, shon mcgann." "it's the sight of my eyes i wish i had in the light of the sun this mornin'. tell me, what is't you see?" "i see the trees on the foot-hills, and all the branches shine with frost. there is a path--so wide!--between two groves of pines. on whiteface mountain lies a glacier-field . . . and all is still." . . . "the voice of you is far-away-like, pierre--it shivers as a hawk cries. it's the wind, the wind, maybe." "there's not a breath of life from hill or valley." "but i feel it in my face." "it is not the breath of life you feel." "did you not hear voices coming athwart the wind? . . . can you see the people at the mines?" "i have told you what i see." "you told me of the pine-trees, and the glacier, and the snow--" "and that is all." "but in the valley, in the valley, where all the miners are?" "i cannot see them." "for love of heaven, don't tell me that the dark is fallin' on your eyes too." "no, shon, i am not growing blind." "will you not tell me what gives the ache to your words?" "i see in the valley--snow . . . snow." "it's a laugh you have at me in your cheek, whin i'd give years of my ill-spent life to watch the chimney smoke come curlin' up slow through the sharp air in the valley there below." "there is no chimney and there is no smoke in all the valley." "before god, if you're a man, you'll put your hand on my arm and tell me what trouble quakes your speech." "shon mcgann, it is for you to make the sign of the cross . . . there, while i put my hand on your shoulder--so!" "your hand is heavy, pierre." "this is the sight of the eyes that see. in the valley there is snow; in the snow of all that was, there is one poppet-head of the mine that was called st. gabriel . . . upon the poppet-head there is the figure of a woman." "ah!" "she does not move--" "she will never move?" "she will never move." "the breath o' my body hurts me. . . . there is death in the valley, pierre?" "there is death." "it was an avalanche--that path between the pines?" "and a great storm after." "blessed be god that i cannot behold that thing this day! . . . and the woman, pierre, the woman aloft?" "she went to watch for someone coming, and as she watched, the avalanche came--and she moves not." "do we know that woman?" "who can tell?" "what was it you whispered soft to yourself, then, pierre?" "i whispered no word." "there, don't you hear it, soft and sighin'? . . . nathalie!" "'mon dieu!' it is not of the world." "it's facin' the poppet-head where she stands i'd be." "your face is turned towards her." "where is the sun?" "the sun stands still above her head." "with the bitter over, and the avil past, come rest for her and all that lie there." "eh, 'bien,' the game is done!" "if we stay here we shall die also." "if we go we die, perhaps." . . . "don't spake it. we will go, and we will return when the breath of summer comes from the south." "it shall be so." "hush! did you not hear--?" "i did not hear. i only see an eagle, and it flies towards whiteface mountain." and shon mcgann and pretty pierre turned back from the end of their quest--from a mighty grave behind to a lonely waste before; and though one was snow-blind, and the other knew that on him fell the chiefer weight of a great misfortune, for he must provide food and fire and be as a mother to his comrade--they had courage; without which, men are as the standing straw in an unreaped field in winter; but having become like the hooded pine, that keepeth green in frost, and hath the bounding blood in all its icy branches. and whence they came and wherefore was as thus: a french canadian once lived in lonely valley. one day great fortune came to him, because it was given him to discover the mine st. gabriel. and he said to the woman who loved him, "i will go with mules and much gold, that i have hewn and washed and gathered, to a village in the east where my father and my mother are. they are poor, but i will make them rich; and then i will return to lonely valley, and a priest shall come with me, and we will dwell here at whiteface mountain, where men are men and not children." and the woman blessed him, and prayed for him, and let him go. he travelled far through passes of the mountains, and came at last where new cities lay upon the plains, and where men were full of evil and of lust of gold. and he was free of hand and light of heart; and at a place called diamond city false friends came about him, and gave him champagne wine to drink, and struck him down and robbed him, leaving him for dead. and he was found, and his wounds were all healed: all save one, and that was in the brain. men called him mad. he wandered through the land, preaching to men to drink no wine, and to shun the sight of gold. and they laughed at him, and called him pere champagne. but one day much gold was found at a place called reef o' angel; and jointly with the gold came a plague which scars the face and rots the body; and indians died by hundreds and white men by scores; and pere champagne, of all who were not stricken down, feared nothing, and did not flee, but went among the sick and dying, and did those deeds which gold cannot buy, and prayed those prayers which were never sold. and who can count how high the prayers of the feckless go! when none was found to bury the dead, he gave them place himself beneath the prairie earth,--consecrated only by the tears of a fool,--and for extreme unction he had but this: "god be merciful to me, a sinner!" now it happily chanced that pierre and shon mcgann, who travelled westward, came upon this desperate battle-field, and saw how pere champagne dared the elements of scourge and death; and they paused and laboured with him--to save where saving was granted of heaven, and to bury when the reaper reaped and would not stay his hand. at last the plague ceased, because winter stretched its wings out swiftly o'er the plains from frigid ranges in the west. and then pere champagne fell ill again. and this last great sickness cured his madness: and he remembered whence he had come, and what befell him at diamond city so many moons ago. and he prayed them, when he knew his time was come, that they would go to lonely valley and tell his story to the woman whom he loved; and say that he was going to a strange but pleasant land, and that there he would await her coming. he begged them that they would go at once, that she might know, and not strain her eyes to blindness, and be sick at heart because he came not. and he told them her name, and drew the coverlet up about his head and seemed to sleep; but he waked between the day and dark, and gently cried: "the snow is heavy on the mountain . . . and the valley is below. . . . 'gardez, mon pere!' . . . ah, nathalie!" and they buried him between the dark and dawn. though winds were fierce, and travel full of peril, they kept their word, and passed along wide steppes of snow, until they entered passes of the mountains, and again into the plains; and at last one 'poudre' day, when frost was shaking like shreds of faintest silver through the air, shon mcgann's sight fled. but he would not turn back--a promise to a dying man was sacred, and he could follow if he could not lead; and there was still some pemmican, and there were martens in the woods, and wandering deer that good spirits hunted into the way of the needy; and pierre's finger along the gun was sure. pierre did not tell shon that for many days they travelled woods where no sunshine entered; where no trail had ever been, nor foot of man had trod: that they had lost their way. nor did he make his comrade know that one night he sat and played a game of solitaire to see if they would ever reach the place called lonely valley. before the cards were dealt, he made a sign upon his breast and forehead. three times he played, and three times he counted victory; and before three suns had come and gone, they climbed a hill that perched over lonely valley. and of what they saw and their hearts felt we know. and when they turned their faces eastward they were as men who go to meet a final and a conquering enemy; but they had kept their honour with the man upon whose grave-tree shon mcgann had carved beneath his name these words: "a brother of aaron." upon a lonely trail they wandered, the spirits of lost travellers hungering in their wake--spirits that mumbled in cedar thickets, and whimpered down the flumes of snow. and pierre, who knew that evil things are exorcised by mighty conjuring, sang loudly, from a throat made thin by forced fasting, a song with which his mother sought to drive away the devils of dreams that flaunted on his pillow when a child: it was the song of the scarlet hunter. and the charm sufficed; for suddenly of a cheerless morning they came upon a trapper's hut in the wilderness, where their sufferings ceased, and the sight of shon's eyes came back. when strength returned also, they journeyed to an indian village, where a priest laboured. him they besought; and when spring came they set forth to lonely valley again that the woman and the smothered dead--if it might chance so--should be put away into peaceful graves. but thither coming they only saw a grey and churlish river; and the poppet-head of the mine of st. gabriel, and she who had knelt thereon, were vanished into solitudes, where only god's cohorts have the rights of burial. . . . but the priest prayed humbly for their so swiftly summoned souls. the scarlet hunter "news out of egypt!" said the honourable just trafford. "if this is true, it gives a pretty finish to the season. you think it possible, pierre? it is every man's talk that there isn't a herd of buffaloes in the whole country; but this-eh?" pierre did not seem disposed to answer. he had been watching a man's face for some time; but his eyes were now idly following the smoke of his cigarette as it floated away to the ceiling in fading circles. he seemed to take no interest in trafford's remarks, nor in the tale that shangi the indian had told them; though shangi and his tale were both sufficiently uncommon to justify attention. shon mcgann was more impressionable. his eyes swam; his feet shifted nervously with enjoyment; he glanced frequently at his gun in the corner of the hut; he had watched trafford's face with some anxiety, and accepted the result of the tale with delight. now his look was occupied with pierre. pierre was a pretty good authority in all matters concerning the prairies and the north. he also had an instinct for detecting veracity, having practised on both sides of the equation. trafford became impatient, and at last the half-breed, conscious that he had tried the temper of his chief so far as was safe, lifted his eyes, and, resting them casually on the indian, replied: "yes, i know the place. . . . no, i have not been there, but i was told-ah, it was long ago! there is a great valley between hills, the kimash hills, the hills of the mighty men. the woods are deep and dark; there is but one trail through them, and it is old. on the highest hill is a vast mound. in that mound are the forefathers of a nation that is gone. yes, as you say, they are dead, and there is none of them alive in the valley--which is called the white valley--where the buffalo are. the valley is green in summer, and the snow is not deep in winter; the noses of the buffalo can find the tender grass. the injin speaks the truth, perhaps. but of the number of buffaloes, one must see. the eye of the red man multiplies." trafford looked at pierre closely. "you seem to know the place very well. it is a long way north where--ah yes, you said you had never been there; you were told. who told you?" the half-breed raised his eyebrows slightly as he replied: "i can remember a long time, and my mother, she spoke much and sang many songs at the campfires." then he puffed his cigarette so that the smoke clouded his face for a moment, and went on,--"i think there may be buffaloes." "it's along the barrel of me gun i wish i was lookin' at thim now," said mcgann. "'tiens,' you will go"? inquired pierre of trafford. "to have a shot at the only herd of wild buffaloes on the continent! of course i'll go. i'd go to the north pole for that. sport and novelty i came here to see; buffalo-hunting i did not expect. i'm in luck, that's all. we'll start to-morrow morning, if we can get ready, and shangi here will lead us; eh, pierre?" the half-breed again was not polite. instead of replying he sang almost below his breath the words of a song unfamiliar to his companions, though the indian's eyes showed a flash of understanding. these were the words: "they ride away with a waking wind, away, away! with laughing lip and with jocund mind at break of day. a rattle of hoofs and a snatch of song, they ride, they ride! the plains are wide and the path is long,--so long, so wide!" just trafford appeared ready to deal with this insolence, for the halfbreed was after all a servant of his, a paid retainer. he waited, however. shon saw the difficulty, and at once volunteered a reply. "it's aisy enough to get away in the mornin', but it's a question how far we'll be able to go with the horses. the year is late; but there's dogs beyand, i suppose, and bedad, there y' are!" the indian spoke slowly: "it is far off. there is no colour yet in the leaf of the larch. the river-hen still swims northward. it is good that we go. there is much buffalo in the white valley." again trafford looked towards his follower, and again the half-breed, as if he were making an effort to remember, sang abstractedly: "they follow, they follow a lonely trail, by day, by night, by distant sun, and by fire-fly pale, and northern light. the ride to the hills of the mighty men, so swift they go! where buffalo feed in the wilding glen in sun and snow." "pierre," said trafford, sharply, "i want an answer to my question." "'mais, pardon,' i was thinking . . . well, we can ride until the deep snows come, then we can walk; and shangi, he can get the dogs, maybe, one team of dogs." "but," was the reply, "one team of dogs will not be enough. we'll bring meat and hides, you know, as well as pemmican. we won't cache any carcases up there. what would be the use? we shall have to be back in the pipi valley by the spring-time." "well," said the half-breed with a cold decision, "one team of dogs will be enough; and we will not cache, and we shall be back in the pipi valley before the spring, perhaps." but this last word was spoken under his breath. and now the indian spoke, with his deep voice and dignified manner: "brothers, it is as i have said, the trail is lonely and the woods are deep and dark. since the time when the world was young, no white man hath been there save one, and behold sickness fell on him; the grave is his end. it is a pleasant land, for the gods have blessed it to the indian forever. no heathen shall possess it. but you shall see the white valley and the buffalo. shangi will lead, because you have been merciful to him, and have given him to sleep in your wigwam, and to eat of your wild meat. there are dogs in the forest. i have spoken." trafford was impressed, and annoyed too. he thought too much sentiment was being squandered on a very practical and sportive thing. he disliked functions; speech-making was to him a matter for prayer and fasting. the indian's address was therefore more or less gratuitous, and he hastened to remark: "thank you, shangi; that's very good, and you've put it poetically. you've turned a shooting-excursion into a mediaeval romance. but we'll get down to business now, if you please, and make the romance a fact, beautiful enough to send to the 'times' or the new york 'call'. let's see, how would they put it in the call?--'extraordinary discovery --herd of buffaloes found in the far north by an englishman and his franco-irish party--sport for the gods--exodus of 'brules' to white valley!'--and so on, screeching to the end." shon laughed heartily. "the fun of the world is in the thing," he said; "and a day it would be for a notch on a stick and a rasp of gin in the throat. and if i get the sight of me eye on a buffalo-ruck, it's down on me knees i'll go, and not for prayin' aither. here's both hands up for a start in the mornin'!" long before noon next day they were well on their way. trafford could not understand why pierre was so reserved, and, when speaking, so ironical. it was noticeable that the half-breed watched the indian closely, that he always rode behind him, that he never drank out of the same cup. the leader set this down to the natural uncertainty of pierre's disposition. he had grown to like pierre, as the latter had come in course to respect him. each was a man of value after his kind. each also had recognised in the other qualities of force and knowledge having their generation in experiences which had become individuality, subterranean and acute, under a cold surface. it was the mutual recognition of these equivalents that led the two men to mutual trust, only occasionally disturbed, as has been shown; though one was regarded as the most fastidious man of his set in london, the fairest-minded of friends, the most comfortable of companions; while the other was an outlaw, a half-heathen, a lover of but one thing in this world, the joyous god of chance. pierre was essentially a gamester. he would have extracted satisfaction out of a death-sentence which was contingent on the trumping of an ace. his only honour was the honour of the game. now, with all the swelling prairie sloping to the clear horizon, and the breath of a large life in their nostrils, these two men were caught up suddenly, as it were, by the throbbing soul of the north, so that the subterranean life in them awoke and startled them. trafford conceived that tobacco was the charm with which to exorcise the spirits of the past. pierre let the game of sensations go on, knowing that they pay themselves out in time. his scheme was the wiser. the other found that fast riding and smoking were not sufficient. he became surrounded by the ghosts of yesterdays; and at length he gave up striving with them, and let them storm upon him, until a line of pain cut deeply across his forehead, and bitterly and unconsciously he cried aloud,--"hester, ah, hester!" but having spoken, the spell was broken, and he was aware of the beat of hoofs beside him, and shangi the indian looking at him with a half smile. something in the look thrilled him; it was fantastic, masterful. he wondered that he had not noticed this singular influence before. after all, he was only a savage with cleaner buckskin than his race usually wore. yet that glow, that power in the face--was he piegan, blackfoot, cree, blood? whatever he was, this man had heard the words which broke so painfully from him. he saw the indian frame her name upon his lips, and then came the words, "hester--hester orval!" he turned sternly, and said, "who are you? what do you know of hester orval?" the indian shook his head gravely, and replied, "you spoke her name, my brother." "i spoke one word of her name. you have spoken two." "one does not know what one speaks. there are words which are as sounds, and words which are as feelings. those come to the brain through the ear; these to the soul through sign, which is more than sound. the indian hath knowledge, even as the white man; and because his heart is open, the trees whisper to him; he reads the language of the grass and the wind, and is taught by the song of the bird, the screech of the hawk, the bark of the fox. and so he comes to know the heart of the man who hath sickness, and calls upon someone, even though it be a weak woman, to cure his sickness; who is bowed low as beside a grave, and would stand upright. are not my words wise? as the thoughts of a child that dreams, as the face of the blind, the eye of the beast, or the anxious hand of the poor, are they not simple, and to be understood?" just trafford made no reply. but behind, pierre was singing in the plaintive measure of a chant: "a hunter rideth the herd abreast, the scarlet hunter from out of the west, whose arrows with points of flame are drest, who loveth the beast of the field the best, the child and the young bird out of the nest, they ride to the hunt no more, no more!" they travelled beyond all bounds of civilisation; beyond the northernmost indian villages, until the features of the landscape became more rugged and solemn, and at last they paused at a place which the indian called misty mountain, and where, disappearing for an hour, he returned with a team of eskimo dogs, keen, quick-tempered, and enduring. they had all now recovered from the disturbing sentiments of the first portion of the journey; life was at full tide; the spirit of the hunter was on them. at length one night they camped in a vast pine grove wrapped in coverlets of snow and silent as death. here again pierre became moody and alert and took no part in the careless chat at the camp-fire led by shon mcgann. the man brooded and looked mysterious. mystery was not pleasing to trafford. he had his own secrets, but in the ordinary affairs of life he preferred simplicity. in one of the silences that fell between shon's attempts to give hilarity to the occasion, there came a rumbling far-off sound, a sound that increased in volume till the earth beneath them responded gently to the vibration. trafford looked up inquiringly at pierre, and then at the indian, who, after a moment, said slowly: "above us are the hills of the mighty men, beneath us is the white valley. it is the tramp of buffalo that we hear. a storm is coming, and they go to shelter in the mountains." the information had come somewhat suddenly, and mcgann was the first to recover from the pleasant shock: "it's divil a wink of sleep i'll get this night, with the thought of them below there ripe for slaughter, and the tumble of fight in their beards." pierre, with a meaning glance from his half-closed eyes, added: "but it is the old saying of the prairies that you do not shout dinner till you have your knife in the loaf. your knife is not yet in the loaf, shon mcgann." the boom of the trampling ceased, and now there was a stirring in the snow-clad tree tops, and a sound as if all the birds of the north were flying overhead. the weather began to moan and the boles of the pines to quake. and then there came war,--a trouble out of the north, a wave of the breath of god to show inconsequent man that he who seeks to live by slaughter hath slaughter for his master. they hung over the fire while the forest cracked round them, and the flame smarted with the flying snow. and now the trees, as if the elements were closing in on them, began to break close by, and one lurched forward towards them. trafford, to avoid its stroke, stepped quickly aside right into the line of another which he did not see. pierre sprang forward and swung him clear, but was himself struck senseless by an outreaching branch. as if satisfied with this achievement, the storm began to subside. when pierre recovered consciousness trafford clasped his hand and said,-"you've a sharp eye, a quick thought, and a deft arm, comrade." "ah, it was in the game. it is good play to assist your partner," the half-breed replied sententiously. through all, the indian had remained stoical. but mcgann, who swore by trafford--as he had once sworn by another of the trafford race--had his heart on his lips, and said: "there's a swate little cherub that sits up aloft, who cares for the soul of poor jack!" it was long after midnight ere they settled down again, with the wreck of the forest round them. only the indian slept; the others were alert and restless. they were up at daybreak, and on their way before sunrise, filled with desire for prey. they had not travelled far before they emerged upon a plateau. around them were the hills of the mighty men-austere, majestic; at their feet was a vast valley on which the light newly-fallen snow had not hidden all the grass. lonely and lofty, it was a world waiting chastely to be peopled! and now it was peopled, for there came from a cleft of the hills an army of buffaloes lounging slowly down the waste, with tossing manes and hoofs stirring the snow into a feathery scud. the eyes of trafford and mcgann swam; pierre's face was troubled, and strangely enough he made the sign of the cross. at that instant trafford saw smoke issuing from a spot on the mountain opposite. he turned to the indian: "someone lives there"? he said. "it is the home of the dead, but life is also there." "white man, or indian?" but no reply came. the indian pointed instead to the buffalo rumbling down the valley. trafford forgot the smoke, forgot everything except that splendid quarry. shon was excited. "sarpints alive," he said, "look at the troops of thim! is it standin' here we are with our tongues in our cheeks, whin there's bastes to be killed, and mate to be got, and the call to war on the ground below! clap spurs with your heels, sez i, and down the side of the turf together and give 'em the teeth of our guns!" the irishman dashed down the slope. in an instant, all followed, or at least trafford thought all followed, swinging their guns across their saddles to be ready for this excellent foray. but while pierre rode hard, it was at first without the fret of battle in him, and he smiled strangely, for he knew that the indian had disappeared as they rode down the slope, though how and why he could not tell. there ran through his head tales chanted at camp-fires when he was not yet in stature so high as the loins that bore him. they rode hard, and yet they came no nearer to that flying herd straining on with white streaming breath and the surf of snow rising to their quarters. mile upon mile, and yet they could not ride these monsters down! now pierre was leading. there was a kind of fury in his face, and he seemed at last to gain on them. but as the herd veered close to a wall of stalwart pines, a horseman issued from the trees and joined the cattle. the horseman was in scarlet from head to foot; and with his coming the herd went faster, and ever faster, until they vanished into the mountain-side; and they who pursued drew in their trembling horses and stared at each other with wonder in their faces. "in god's name what does it mean"? trafford cried. "is it a trick of the eye or the hand of the devil"? added shon. "in the name of god we shall know perhaps. if it is the hand of the devil it is not good for us," remarked pierre. "who was the man in scarlet who came from the woods"? asked trafford of the half-breed. "'voila,' it is strange! there is an old story among the indians! my mother told many tales of the place and sang of it, as i sang to you. the legend was this:--in the hills of the north which no white man, nor no injin of this time hath seen, the forefathers of the red men sleep; but some day they will wake again and go forth and possess all the land; and the buffalo are for them when that time shall come, that they may have the fruits of the chase, and that it be as it was of old, when the cattle were as clouds on the horizon. and it was ordained that one of these mighty men who had never been vanquished in fight, nor done an evil thing, and was the greatest of all the chiefs, should live and not die, but be as a sentinel, as a lion watching, and preserve the white valley in peace until his brethren waked and came into their own again. and him they called the scarlet hunter; and to this hour the red men pray to him when they lose their way upon the plains, or death draws aside the curtains of the wigwam to call them forth." "repeat the verses you sang, pierre," said trafford. the half-breed did so. when he came to the words, "who loveth the beast of the field the best," the englishman looked round. "where is shangi"? he asked. mcgann shook his head in astonishment and negation. pierre explained: "on the mountain-side where we ride down he is not seen--he vanish . . . 'mon dieu,' look!" on the slope of the mountain stood the scarlet hunter with drawn bow. from it an arrow flew over their heads with a sorrowful twang, and fell where the smoke rose among the pines; then the mystic figure disappeared. mcgann shuddered, and drew himself together. "it is the place of spirits," he said; "and it's little i like it, god knows; but i'll follow that scarlet hunter, or red devil, or whatever he is, till i drop, if the honourable gives the word. for flesh and blood i'm not afraid of; and the other we come to, whether we will or not, one day." but trafford said: "no, we'll let it stand where it is for the present. something has played our eyes false, or we're brought here to do work different from buffalo-hunting. where that arrow fell among the smoke we must go first. then, as i read the riddle, we travel back the way we came. there are points in connection with the pipi valley superior to the hills of the mighty men." they rode away across the glade, and through a grove of pines upon a hill, till they stood before a log but with parchment windows. trafford knocked, but there was no response. he opened the door and entered. he saw a figure rise painfully from a couch in a corner,--the figure of a woman young and beautiful, but wan and worn. she seemed dazed and inert with suffering, and spoke mournfully: "it is too late. not you, nor any of your race, nor anything on earth can save him. he is dead--dead now." at the first sound of her voice trafford started. he drew near to her, as pale as she was, and wonder and pity were in his face. "hester," he said, "hester orval!" she stared at him like one that had been awakened from an evil dream, then tottered towards him with the cry,--"just, just, have you come to save me? o just!" his distress was sad to see, for it was held in deep repression, but he said calmly and with protecting gentleness: "yes, i have come to save you. hester, how is it you are here in this strange place--you?" she sobbed so that at first she could not answer; but at last she cried: "o just, he is dead . . . in there, in there! . . . last night, it was last night; and he prayed that i might go with him. but i could not die unforgiven, and i was right, for you have come out of the world to help me, and to save me." "yes, to help you and to save you,--if i can," he added in a whisper to himself, for he was full of foreboding. he was of the earth, earthy, and things that had chanced to him this day were beyond the natural and healthy movements of his mind. he had gone forth to slay, and had been foiled by shadows; he had come with a tragic, if beautiful, memory haunting him, and that memory had clothed itself in flesh and stood before him, pitiful, solitary,--a woman. he had scorned all legend and superstition, and here both were made manifest to him. he had thought of this woman as one who was of this world no more, and here she mourned before him and bade him go and look upon her dead, upon the man who had wronged him, into whom, as he once declared, the soul of a cur had entered,--and now what could he say? he had carried in his heart the infinite something that is to men the utmost fulness of life, which, losing, they must carry lead upon their shoulders where they thought the gods had given pinions. mcgann and pierre were nervous. this conjunction of unusual things was easier to the intelligences of the dead than the quick. the outer air was perhaps less charged with the unnatural, and with a glance towards the room where death was quartered, they left the hut. trafford was alone with the woman through whom his life had been turned awry. he looked at her searchingly; and as he looked the mere man in him asserted itself for a moment. she was dressed in coarse garments; it struck him that her grief had a touch of commonness about it; there was something imperfect in the dramatic setting. his recent experiences had had a kind of grandeur about them; it was not thus that he had remembered her in the hour when he had called upon her in the plains, and the indian had heard his cry. he felt, and was ashamed in feeling, that there was a grim humour in the situation. the fantastic, the melodramatic, the emotional, were huddled here in too marked a prominence; it all seemed, for an instant, like the tale of a woman's first novel. but immediately again there was roused in him the latent force of loyalty to himself and therefore to her; the story of her past, so far as he knew it, flashed before him, and his eyes grew hot. he remembered the time he had last seen her in an english country-house among a gay party in which royalty smiled, and the subject was content beneath the smile. but there was one rebellious subject, and her name was hester orval. she was a wilful girl who had lived life selfishly within the lines of that decorous yet pleasant convention to which she was born. she was beautiful,--she knew that, and royalty had graciously admitted it. she was warm-thoughted, and possessed the fatal strain of the artistic temperament. she was not sure that she had a heart; and many others, not of her sex, after varying and enthusiastic study of the matter, were not more confident than she. but it had come at last that she had listened with pensive pleasure to trafford's tale of love; and because to be worshipped by a man high in all men's, and in most women's, esteem, ministered delicately to her sweet egotism, and because she was proud of him, she gave him her hand in promise, and her cheek in privilege, but denied him--though he knew this not--her heart and the service of her life. but he was content to wait patiently for that service, and he wholly trusted her, for there was in him some fine spirit of the antique world. there had come to falkenstowe, this country-house and her father's home, a man who bore a knightly name, but who had no knightly heart; and he told ulysses' tales, and covered a hazardous and cloudy past with that fascinating colour which makes evil appear to be good, so that he roused in her the pulse of art, which she believed was soul and life, and her allegiance swerved. and when her mother pleaded with her, and when her father said stern things, and even royalty, with uncommon use, rebuked her gently, her heart grew hard; and almost on the eve of her wedding-day she fled with her lover, and married him, and together they sailed away over the seas. the world was shocked and clamorous for a matter of nine days, and then it forgot this foolish and awkward circumstance; but just trafford never forgot it. he remembered all vividly until the hour, a year later, when london journals announced that hester orval and her husband had gone down with a vessel wrecked upon the alaskan and canadian coast. and there new regret began, and his knowledge of her ended. but she and her husband had not been drowned; with a sailor they had reached the shore in safety. they had travelled inland from the coast through the great mountains by unknown paths, and as they travelled, the sailor died; and they came at last through innumerable hardships to the kimash hills, the hills of the mighty men, and there they stayed. it was not an evil land; it had neither deadly cold in winter nor wanton heat in summer. but they never saw a human face, and everything was lonely and spectral. for a time they strove to go eastwards or southwards but the mountains were impassable, and in the north and west there was no hope. though the buffalo swept by them in the valley they could not slay them, and they lived on forest fruits until in time the man sickened. the woman nursed him faithfully, but still he failed; and when she could go forth no more for food, some unseen dweller of the woods brought buffalo meat, and prairie fowl, and water from the spring, and laid them beside her door. she had seen the mounds upon the hill, the wide couches of the sleepers, and she remembered the things done in the days when god seemed nearer to the sons of men than now; and she said that a spirit had done this thing, and trembled and was thankful. but the man weakened and knew that he should die, and one night when the pain was sharp upon him he prayed bitterly that he might pass, or that help might come to snatch him from the grave. and as they sobbed together, a form entered at the door,-a form clothed in scarlet,--and he bade them tell the tale of their lives as they would some time tell it unto heaven. and when the tale was told he said that succour should come to them from the south by the hand of the scarlet hunter, that the nation sleeping there should no more be disturbed by their moaning. and then he had gone forth, and with his going there was a storm such as that in which the man had died, the storm that had assailed the hunters in the forest yesterday. this was the second part of hester orval's life as she told it to just trafford. and he, looking into her eyes, knew that she had suffered, and that she had sounded her husband's unworthiness. then he turned from her and went into the room where the dead man lay. and there all hardness passed from him, and he understood that in the great going forth man reckons to the full with the deeds done in that brief pilgrimage called life; and that in the bitter journey which this one took across the dread spaces between here and there, he had repented of his sins, because they, and they only, went with him in mocking company; the good having gone first to plead where evil is a debtor and hath a prison. and the woman came and stood beside trafford, and whispered, "at first--and at the last--he was kind." but he urged her gently from the room: "go away," he said; "go away. we cannot judge him. leave me alone with him." they buried him upon the hill-side, far from the mounds where the mighty men waited for their summons to go forth and be the lords of the north again. at night they buried him when the moon was at its full; and he had the fragrant pines for his bed, and the warm darkness to cover him; and though he is to those others resting there a heathen and an alien, it may be that he sleeps peacefully. when trafford questioned hester orval more deeply of her life there, the unearthly look quickened in her eyes, and she said: "oh, nothing, nothing is real here, but suffering; perhaps it is all a dream, but it has changed me, changed me. to hear the tread of the flying herds, to see no being save him, the scarlet hunter, to hear the voices calling in the night! . . . hush! there, do you not hear them? it is midnight-listen!" he listened, and pierre and shon mcgann looked at each other apprehensively, while shon's fingers felt hurriedly along the beads of a rosary which he did not hold. yes, they heard it, a deep sonorous sound: "is the daybreak come?" "it is still the night," came the reply as of one clear voice. and then there floated through the hills more softly: "we sleep--we sleep!" and the sounds echoed through the valley--"sleep --sleep!" yet though these things were full of awe, the spirit of the place held them there, and the fever of the hunter descended on them hotly. in the morning they went forth, and rode into the white valley where the buffalo were feeding, and sought to steal upon them; but the shots from their guns only awoke the hills, and none were slain. and though they rode swiftly, the wide surf of snow was ever between them and the chase, and their striving availed nothing. day after day they followed that flying column, and night after night they heard the sleepers call from the hills. the desire of the thing wasted them, and they forgot to eat and ceased to talk among themselves. but one day shon mcgann, muttering aves as he rode, gained on the cattle, until once again the scarlet hunter came forth from a cleft of the mountains, and drove the herd forward with swifter feet. but the irishman had learned the power in this thing, and had taught trafford, who knew not those availing prayers, and with these sacred conjurations on their lips they gained on the cattle length by length, though the scarlet hunter rode abreast of the thundering horde. within easy range, trafford swung his gun shoulder-wards to fire, but at that instant a cloud of snow rose up between him and his quarry so that they all were blinded. and when they came into the clear sun again the buffalo were gone; but flaming arrows from some unseen hunter's bow came singing over their heads towards the south; and they obeyed the sign, and went back to where hester wore her life out with anxiety for them, because she knew the hopelessness of their quest. women are nearer to the heart of things. and now she begged trafford to go southwards before winter froze the plains impassably, and the snow made tombs of the valleys. thereupon he gave the word to go, and said that he had done wrong--for now the spell was falling from him. but she, seeing his regret, said: "ah, just, it could not have been different. the passion of it was on you as it was on us, as if to teach us that hunger for happiness is robbery, and that the covetous desire of man is not the will of the gods. the herds are for the mighty men when they awake, not for the stranger and the philistine." "you have grown wise, hester," he replied. "no, i am sick in brain and body; but it may be that in such sickness there is wisdom." "ah," he said, "it has turned my head, i think. once i laughed at all such fanciful things as these. this scarlet hunter, how many times have you seen him?" "but once." "what were his looks?" "a face pale and strong, with noble eyes; and in his voice there was something strange." trafford thought of shangi, the indian,--where had he gone? he had disappeared as suddenly as he had come to their camp in the south. as they sat silent in the growing night, the door opened and the scarlet hunter stood before them. "there is food," he said, "on the threshold-food for those who go upon a far journey to the south in the morning. unhappy are they who seek for gold at the rainbow's foot, who chase the fire-fly in the night, who follow the herds in the white valley. wise are they who anger not the gods, and who fly before the rising storm. there is a path from the valley for the strangers, the path by which they came; and when the sun stares forth again upon the world, the way shall be open, and there shall be safety for you until your travel ends in the quick world whither you go. you were foolish; now you are wise. it is time to depart; seek not to return, that we may have peace and you safety. when the world cometh to her spring again we shall meet." then he turned and was gone, with trafford's voice ringing after him,--" shangi! shangi!" they ran out swiftly, but he had vanished. in the valley where the moonlight fell in icy coldness a herd of cattle was moving, and their breath rose like the spray from sea-beaten rocks, and the sound of their breathing was borne upwards to the watchers. at daybreak they rode down into the valley. all was still. not a trace of life remained; not a hoofmark in the snow, nor a bruised blade of grass. and when they climbed to the plateau and looked back, it seemed to trafford and his companions, as it seemed in after years, that this thing had been all a fantasy. but hester's face was beside them, and it told of strange and unsubstantial things. the shadows of the middle world were upon her. and yet again when they turned at the last there was no token. it was a northern valley, with sun and snow, and cold blue shadows, and the high hills,--that was all. then hester said: "o just, i do not know if this is life or death--and yet it must be death, for after death there is forgiveness to those who repent, and your face is forgiving and kind." and he--for he saw that she needed much human help and comfort--gently laid his hand on hers and replied: "hester, this is life, a new life for both of us. whatever has been was a dream; whatever is now"--and he folded her hand in his--"is real; and there is no such thing as forgiveness to be spoken of between us. there shall be happiness for us yet, please god!" "i want to go to falkenstowe. will--will my mother forgive me?" "mothers always forgive, hester, else half the world had slain itself in shame." and then she smiled for the first time since he had seen her. this was in the shadows of the scented pines; and a new life breathed upon her, as it breathed upon them all, and they knew that the fever of the white valley had passed away from them forever. after many hardships they came in safety to the regions of the south country again; and the tale they told, though doubted by the race of pale-faces, was believed by the heathen; because there was none among them but, as he cradled at his mother's breasts, and from his youth up, had heard the legend of the scarlet hunter. for the romance of that journey, it concerned only the man and woman to whom it was as wine and meat to the starving. is not love more than legend, and a human heart than all the beasts of the field or any joy of slaughter? the stone the stone hung on a jutting crag of purple hill. on one side of it, far beneath, lay the village, huddled together as if, through being close compacted, its handful of humanity should not be a mere dust in the balance beside nature's portentousness. yet if one stood beside the stone, and looked down, the flimsy wooden huts looked like a barrier at the end of a great flume. for the hill hollowed and narrowed from the stone to the village, as if giants had made this concave path by trundling boulders to that point like a funnel where the miners' houses now formed a cul-de-sac. on the other side of the crag was a valley also; but it was lonely and untenanted; and at one flank of the stone were serried legions of trees. the stone was a mighty and wonderful thing. looked at from the village direct, it had nothing but the sky for a background. at times, also, it appeared to rest on nothing; and many declared that they could see clean between it and the oval floor of the crag on which it rested. that was generally in the evening, when the sun was setting behind it. then the light coiled round its base, between it and its pedestal, thus making it appear to hover above the hill-point, or, planet-like, to be just settling on it. at other times, when the light was perfectly clear and not too strong, and the village side of the crag was brighter than the other, more accurate relations of the stone to its pedestal could be discovered. then one would say that it balanced on a tiny base, a toe of granite. but if one looked long, especially in the summer, when the air throbbed, it evidently rocked upon that toe; if steadily, and very long, he grew tremulous, perhaps afraid. once, a woman who was about to become a mother went mad, because she thought the stone would hurtle down the hill at her great moment and destroy her and her child. indians would not live either on the village side of the stone or in the valley beyond. they had a legend that, some day, one, whom they called the man who sleeps, would rise from his hidden couch in the mountains, and, being angry that any dared to cumber his playground, would hurl the stone upon them that dwelt at purple hill. but white men pay little heed to indian legends. at one time or another every person who had come to the village visited the stone. colossal as it was, the real base on which its weight rested was actually very small: the view from the village had not been all deceitful. it is possible, indeed, that at one time it had really rocked, and that the rocking had worn for it a shallow cup, or socket, in which it poised. the first man who came to purple valley prospecting had often stopped his work and looked at the stone in a half-fear that it would spring upon him unawares. and yet he had as often laughed at himself for doing so, since, as he said, it must have been there hundreds of thousands of years. strangers, when they came to the village, went to sleep somewhat timidly the first night of their stay, and not infrequently left their beds to go and look at the stone, as it hung there ominously in the light of the moon; or listened towards it if it was dark. when the moon rose late, and the stone chanced to be directly in front of it, a black sphere seemed to be rolling into the light to blot it out. but none who lived in the village looked upon the stone in quite the same fashion as did that first man who had come to the valley. he had seen it through three changing seasons, with no human being near him, and only occasionally a shy, wandering elk, or a cloud of wild ducks whirring down the pass, to share his companionship with it. once he had waked in the early morning, and, possessed of a strange feeling, had gone out to look a the stone. there, perched upon it, was an eagle; and though he said to himself that an eagle's weight was to the stone as a feather upon the world, he kept his face turned towards it all day; for all day the eagle stayed. he was a man of great stature and immense strength. the thews of his limbs stood out like soft unbreakable steel. yet, as if to cast derision on his strength and great proportions, god or fate turned his bread to ashes, gave failure into his hands where he hugely grasped at fortune, and hung him about with misery. he discovered gold, but others gathered it. it was his daughter that went mad, and gave birth to a dead child in fearsome thought of the stone. once, when he had gone over the hills to another mining field, and had been prevented from coming back by unexpected and heavy snows, his wife was taken ill, and died alone of starvation, because none in the village remembered of her and her needs. again, one wild night, long after, his only son was taken from his bed and lynched for a crime that was none of his, as was discovered by his murderers next day. then they killed horribly the real criminal, and offered the father such satisfaction as they could. they said that any one of them was ready there to be killed by him; and they threw a weapon at his feet. at this he stood looking upon them for a moment, his great breast heaving, and his eyes glowering; but presently he reached out his arms, and taking two of them by the throat, brought their heads together heavily, breaking their skulls; and, with a cry in his throat like a wounded animal, left them, and entered the village no more. but it became known that he had built a rude but on purple hill, and that he had been seen standing beside the stone or sitting among the boulders below it, with his face bent upon the village. those who had come near to him said that he had greatly changed; that his hair and beard had grown long and strong, and, in effect, that he looked like some rugged fragment of an antique world. the time came when they associated the man with the stone: they grew to speak of him simply as the man. there was something natural and apt in the association. then they avoided these two singular dwellers on the height. what had happened to the man when he lived in the village became almost as great a legend as the indian fable concerning the stone. in the minds of the people one seemed as old as the other. women who knew the awful disasters which had befallen the man brooded at times most timidly, regarding him as they did at first--and even still--the stone. women who carried life unborn about with them had a strange dread of both the stone and the man. time passed on, and the feeling grew that the man's grief must be a terrible thing, since he lived alone with the stone and god. but this did not prevent the men of the village from digging gold, drinking liquor, and doing many kinds of evil. one day, again, they did an unjust and cruel thing. they took pierre, the gambler, whom they had at first sought to vanquish at his own art, and, possessed suddenly of the high duty of citizenship, carried him to the edge of a hill and dropped him over, thinking thereby to give him a quick death, while the vultures would provide him a tomb. but pierre was not killed, though to his grave--unprepared as yet--he would bear an arm which should never be lifted higher than his shoulder. when he waked from the crashing gloom which succeeded the fall, he was in the presence of a being whose appearance was awesome and massive--an outlawed god: whose hair and beard were white, whose eye was piercing, absorbing, painful, in the long perspective of its woe. this being sat with his great hand clasped to the side of his head. the beginning of his look was the village, and--though the vision seemed infinite--the village was the end of it too. pierre, looking through the doorway beside which he lay, drew in his breath sharply, for it seemed at first as if the man was an unnatural fancy, and not a thing. behind the man was the stone, which was not more motionless nor more full of age than this its comrade. indeed, the stone seemed more a thing of life as it poised above the hill: the man was sculptured rock. his white hair was chiselled on his broad brow, his face was a solemn pathos petrified, his lips were curled with an iron contempt, an incalculable anger. the sun went down, and darkness gathered about the man. pierre reached out his hand, and drank the water and ate the coarse bread that had been put near him. he guessed that trees or protruding ledges had broken his fall, and that he had been rescued and brought here. as he lay thinking, the man entered the doorway, stooping much to do so. with flints he lighted a wick which hung from a wooden bowl of bear's oil; then kneeling, held it above his head, and looked at pierre. and pierre, who had never feared anyone, shrank from the look in the man's eyes. but when the other saw that pierre was awake, a distant kindness came upon his face, and he nodded gravely; but he did not speak. presently a great tremor as of pain shook all his limbs, and he set the candle on the ground, and with his stalwart hands arranged afresh the bandages about pierre's injured arm and leg. pierre spoke at last. "you are the man"? he said. the other bowed his head. "you saved me from those devils in the valley?" a look of impregnable hardness came into the man's face, but he pressed pierre's hand for answer; and though the pressure was meant to be gentle, pierre winced painfully. the candle spluttered, and the hut filled with a sickly smoke. the man brought some bear skins and covered the sufferer, for, the season being autumn, the night was cold. pierre, who had thus spent his first sane and conscious hour in many days, fell asleep. what time it was when he waked he was not sure, but it was to hear a metallic click-click come to him through the clear air of night. it was a pleasant noise as of steel and rock: the work of some lonely stone-cutter of the hills. the sound reached him with strange, increasing distinctness. was this titan that had saved him sculpturing some figure from the metal hill? click-click! it vibrated as regularly as the keen pulse of a watch. he lay and wondered for a long time, but fell asleep again; and the steely iteration went on in his dreams. in the morning the man came to him, and cared for his hurts, and gave him food; but still would speak no word. he was gone nearly all day in the hills; yet when evening came he sought the place where pierre had seen him the night before, and the same weird scene was re-enacted. and again in the night the clicking sound went on; and every night it was renewed. pierre grew stronger, and could, with difficulty, stand upon his feet. one night he crept out, and made his way softly, slowly towards the sound. he saw the man kneeling beside the stone, he saw a hammer rise and fall upon a chisel; and the chisel was at the base of the stone. the hammer rose and fell with perfect but dreadful precision. pierre turned and looked towards the village below, whose lights were burning like a bunch of fire-flies in the gloom. again he looked at the stone and the man. then the thing came to him sharply. the man was chiselling away the socket of the stone, bringing it to that point of balance where the touch of a finger, the wing of a bird, or the whistle of a north-west wind, would send it down upon the offending and unsuspecting village. the thought held him paralysed. the man had nursed his revenge long past the thought of its probability by the people beneath. he had at first sat and watched the village, hated, and mused dreadfully upon the thing he had determined to do. then he had worked a little, afterwards more, and now, lastly, since he had seen what they had done to pierre, with the hot but firm eagerness of an avenging giant. pierre had done some sad deeds in his time, and had tasted some sweet revenges, but nothing like to this had ever entered his brain. in that village were men who--as they thought--had cast him to a death fit only for a coward or a cur. well, here was the most exquisite retaliation. though his hand should not be in the thing, he could still be the cynical and approving spectator. but yet: had all those people hovering about those lights below done harm to him? he thought there were a few--and they were women--who would not have followed his tumbril to his death with cries of execration. the rest would have done so,--most of them did so, not because he was a criminal, but because he was a victim, and because human nature as it is thirsts inordinately at times for blood and sacrifice--a living strain of the old barbaric instinct. he remembered that most of these people were concerned in having injured the man. the few good women there had vile husbands; the few pardonable men had hateful wives: the village of purple hill was an ill affair. he thought: now doubtfully, now savagely, now with irony. the hammer and steel clicked on. he looked at the lights of the village again. suddenly there came to his mind the words of a great man who sought to save a city manifold centuries ago. he was not sure that he wished to save this village; but there was a grim, almost grotesque, fitness in the thing that he now intended. he spoke out clearly through the night: "'oh, let not the lord be angry, and i will speak yet but this once: peradventure ten righteous shall be found there.'" the hammer stopped. there was a silence, in which the pines sighed lightly. then, as if speaking was a labour, the man replied in a deep, harsh voice: "i will not spare it for ten's sake." again there was a silence, in which pierre felt his maimed body bend beneath him; but presently the voice said,--"now!" at this the moon swung from behind a cloud. the man stood behind the stone. his arm was raised to it. there was a moment's pause--it seemed like years to pierre; a wind came softly crying out of the west, the moon hurried into the dark, and then a monster sprang from its pedestal upon purple hill, and, with a sound of thunder and an awful speed, raced upon the village below. the boulders of the hillside crumbled after it. and pierre saw the lights go out. the moon shone out again for an instant, and pierre saw that the man stood where the stone had been; but when he reached the place the man was gone. forever! etext editor's bookmarks: at first--and at the last--he was kind courage; without which, men are as the standing straw evil is half-accidental, half-natural fascinating colour which makes evil appear to be good had the luck together, all kinds and all weathers hunger for happiness is robbery if one remembers, why should the other forget instinct for detecting veracity, having practised on both sides mothers always forgive the higher we go the faster we live the injin speaks the truth, perhaps--eye of red man multipies the world is not so bad as is claimed for it whatever has been was a dream; whatever is now is real you do not shout dinner till you have your knife in the loaf this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] a romany of the snows being a continuation of the personal histories of "pierre and his people" and the last existing records of pretty pierre by gilbert parker volume 2. malachi the lake of the great slave the red patrol the going of the white swan at bamber's boom malachi "he'll swing just the same to-morrow. exit malachi!" said freddy tarlton gravely. the door suddenly opened on the group of gossips, and a man stepped inside and took the only vacant seat near the fire. he glanced at none, but stretched out his hands to the heat, looking at the coals with drooping introspective eyes. "exit malachi," he said presently in a soft ironical voice, but did not look up. "by the holy poker, pierre, where did you spring from?" asked tarlton genially. "the wind bloweth where it listeth, and--" pierre responded, with a little turn of his fingers. "and the wind doesn't tell where it's been, but that's no reason pierre shouldn't," urged the other. pierre shrugged his shoulders, but made no answer. "he was a tough," said a voice from the crowd. "to-morrow he'll get the breakfast he's paid for." pierre turned and looked at the speaker with a cold inquisitive stare. "mon dieu!" he said presently, "here's this gohawk playing preacher. what do you know of malachi, gohawk? what do any of you know about malachi? a little of this, a little of that, a drink here, a game of euchre there, a ride after cattle, a hunt behind guidon hill!--but what is that? you have heard the cry of the eagle, you have seen him carry off a lamb, you have had a pot-shot at him, but what do you know of the eagle's nest? mais non. "the lamb is one thing, the nest is another. you don't know the eagle till you've been there. and you, gohawk, would not understand, if you saw the nest. such cancan!" "shut your mouth!" broke out gohawk. "d'ye think i'm going to stand your--" freddy tarlton laid a hand on his arm. "keep quiet, gohawk. what good will it do?" then he said, "tell us about the nest, pierre; they're hanging him for the lamb in the morning." "who spoke for him at the trial?" pierre asked. "i did," said tarlton. "i spoke as well as i could, but the game was dead against him from the start. the sheriff was popular, and young; young--that was the thing; handsome too, and the women, of course! it was sure from the start; besides, malachi would say nothing--didn't seem to care." "no, not to care," mused pierre. "what did you say for him to the jury --i mean the devil of a thing to make them sit up and think, 'poor malachi!'--like that." "best speech y'ever heard," gohawk interjected; "just emptied the words out, split 'em like peas, by gol! till he got to one place right before the end. then he pulled up sudden, and it got so quiet you could 'a heard a pin drop. 'gen'lemen of the jury,' says freddy tarlton here-gen'lemen, by gol! all that lot--lagan and the rest! 'gen'lemen of the jury,' he says, 'be you danged well sure that you're at one with god a'mighty in this; that you've got at the core of justice here; that you've got evidence to satisfy him who you've all got to satisfy some day, or git out. not evidence as to shootin', but evidence as to what that shootin' meant, an' whether it was meant to kill, an' what for. the case is like this, gen'lemen of the jury,' says freddy tarlton here. 'two men are in a street alone. there's a shot, out comes everybody, and sees fargo the sheriff laid along the ground, his mouth in the dust, and a full-up gun in his fingers. not forty feet away stands malachi with a gun smokin' in his fist. it seems to be the opinion that it was cussedness--just cussedness--that made malachi turn the sheriff's boots to the sun. for malachi was quarrelsome. i'll give you a quarter on that. and the sheriff was mettlesome, used to have high spirits, like as if he's lift himself over the fence with his bootstraps. so when malachi come and saw the sheriff steppin' round in his paten' leathers, it give him the needle, and he got a bead on him--and away went sheriff fargo-right away! that seems to be the sense of the public.' and he stops again, soft and quick, and looks the twelve in the eyes at once. 'but,' says freddy tarlton here, 'are you goin' to hang a man on the little you know? or are you goin' to credit him with somethin' of what you don't know? you haint got the inside of this thing, and malachi doesn't let you know it, and god keeps quiet. but be danged well sure that you've got the bulge on iniquity here; for gen'lemen with pistols out in the street is one thing, and sittin' weavin' a rope in a court-room for a man's neck is another thing,' says freddy tarlton here. 'my client has refused to say one word this or that way, but don't be sure that some one that knows the inside of things won't speak for him in the end.' then he turns and looks at malachi, and malachi was standin' still and steady like a tree, but his face was white, and sweat poured on his forehead. 'if god has no voice to be heard for my client in this court-room to-day, is there no one on earth--no man or woman--who can speak for one who won't speak for himself?' says freddy tarlton here. then, by gol! for the first time malachi opened. 'there's no one,' he says. 'the speakin' is all for the sheriff. but i spoke once, and the sheriff didn't answer.' not a bit of beg-yer-pardon in it. it struck cold. 'i leave his case in the hands of twelve true men,' says freddy tarlton here, and he sits down." "so they said he must walk the air?" suggested pierre. "without leavin' their seats," someone added instantly. "so. but that speech of 'freddy tarlton here'?" "it was worth twelve drinks to me, no more, and nothing at all to malachi," said tarlton. "when i said i'd come to him to-night to cheer him up, he said he'd rather sleep. the missionary, too, he can make nothing of him. 'i don't need anyone here,' he says. 'i eat this off my own plate.' and that's the end of malachi." "because there was no one to speak for him--eh? well, well." "if he'd said anything that'd justify the thing--make it a manslaughter business or a quarrel--then! but no, not a word, up or down, high or low. exit malachi!" rejoined freddy tarlton sorrowfully. "i wish he'd given me half a chance." "i wish i'd been there," said pierre, taking a match from gohawk, and lighting his cigarette. "to hear his speech?" asked gohawk, nodding towards tarlton. "to tell the truth about it all. t'sh, you bats, you sheep, what have you in your skulls? when a man will not speak, will not lie to gain a case for his lawyer--or save himself, there is something! now, listen to me, and i will tell you the story of malachi. then you shall judge. "i never saw such a face as that girl had down there at lachine in quebec. i knew her when she was a child, and i knew malachi when he was on the river with the rafts, the foreman of a gang. he had a look all open then as the sun--yes. happy? yes, as happy as a man ought to be. well, the mother of the child died, and malachi alone was left to take care of the little norice. he left the river and went to work in the mills, so that he might be with the child; and when he got to be foreman there he used to bring her to the mill. he had a basket swung for her just inside the mill not far from him, right where she was in the shade; but if she stretched out her hand it would be in the sun. i've seen a hundred men turn to look at her where she swung, singing to herself, and then chuckle to themselves afterwards as they worked. "when trevoor, the owner, come one day, and saw her, he swore, and was going to sack malachi, but the child--that little norice--leaned over the basket, and offered him an apple. he looked for a minute, then he reached up, took the apple, turned round, and went out of the mill without a word--so. next month when he come he walked straight to her, and handed up to her a box of toys and a silver whistle. 'that's to call me when you want me,' he said, as he put the whistle to her lips, and then he put the gold string of it round her neck. she was a wise little thing, that norice, and noticed things. i don't believe that trevoor or malachi ever knew how sweet was the smell of the fresh sawdust till she held it to their noses; and it was she that had the saws--all sizes-start one after the other, making so strange a tune. she made up a little song about fairies and others to sing to that tune. and no one ever thought much about indian island, off beyond the sweating, baking piles of lumber, and the blistering logs and timbers in the bay, till she told stories about it. sure enough, when you saw the shut doors and open windows of those empty houses, all white without in the sun and dark within, and not a human to be seen, you could believe almost anything. you can think how proud malachi was. she used to get plenty of presents from the men who had no wives or children to care for--little silver and gold things as well as others. she was fond of them, but no, not vain. she loved the gold and silver for their own sake." pierre paused. "i knew a youngster once," said gohawk, "that--" pierre waved his hand. "i am not through, m'sieu' gohawk the talker. years went on. now she took care of the house of malachi. she wore the whistle that trevoor gave her. he kept saying to her still, 'if ever you need me, little norice, blow it, and i will come.' he was droll, that m'sieu' trevoor, at times. well, she did not blow, but still he used to come every year, and always brought her something. one year he brought his nephew, a young fellow of about twenty-three. she did not whistle for him either, but he kept on coming. that was the beginning of 'exit malachi.' the man was clever and bad, the girl believing and good. he was young, but he knew how to win a woman's heart. when that is done, there is nothing more to do--she is yours for good or evil; and if a man, through a woman's love, makes her to sin, even his mother cannot be proud of him-no. but the man married norice, and took her away to madison, down in wisconsin. malachi was left alone--malachi and trevoor, for trevoor felt towards her as a father. "alors, sorrow come to the girl, for her husband began to play cards and to drink, and he lost much money. there was the trouble--the two together. they lived in a hotel. one day a lady missed a diamond necklace from her room. norice had been with her the evening before. norice come into her own room the next afternoon, and found detectives searching. in her own jewel-case, which was tucked away in the pocket of an old dress, was found the necklace. she was arrested. she said nothing--for she waited for her husband, who was out of town that day. he only come in time to see her in court next morning. she did not deny anything; she was quiet, like malachi. the man played his part well. he had hid the necklace where he thought it would be safe, but when it was found, he let the wife take the blame--a little innocent thing. people were sorry for them both. she was sent to jail. her father was away in the rocky mountains, and he did not hear; trevoor was in europe. the husband got a divorce, and was gone. norice was in jail for over a year, and then she was set free, for her health went bad, and her mind was going, they thought. she did not know till she come out that she was divorced. then she nearly died. but then trevoor come." freddy tarlton's hands were cold with excitement, and his fingers trembled so he could hardly light a cigar. "go on, go on, pierre," he said huskily. "trevoor said to her--he told me this himself--'why did you not whistle for me, norice? a word would have brought me from europe.' 'no one could help me, no one at all,' she answered. then trevoor said, 'i know who did it, for he has robbed me too.' she sank in a heap on the floor. 'i could have borne it and anything for him, if he hadn't divorced me,' she said. then they cleared her name before the world. but where was the man? no one knew. at last malachi, in the rocky mountains, heard of her trouble, for norice wrote to him, but told him not to do the man any harm, if he ever found him--ah, a woman, a woman! . . . but malachi met the man one day at guidon hill, and shot him in the street." "fargo the sheriff!" roared half-a-dozen voices. "yes; he had changed his name, had come up here, and because he was clever and spent money, and had a pull on someone,--got it at cards perhaps,--he was made sheriff." "in god's name, why didn't malachi speak?" said tarlton; "why didn't he tell me this?" "because he and i had our own plans. the one evidence he wanted was norice. if she would come to him in his danger, and in spite of his killing the man, good. if not, then he would die. well, i went to find her and fetch her. i found her. there was no way to send word, so we had to come on as fast as we could. we have come just in time." "do you mean to say, pierre, that she's here?" said gohawk. pierre waved his hand emphatically. "and so we came on with a pardon." every man was on his feet, every man's tongue was loosed, and each ordered liquor for pierre, and asked him where the girl was. freddy tarlton wrung his hand, and called a boy to go to his rooms and bring three bottles of wine, which he had kept for two years, to drink when he had won his first big case. gohawk was importunate. "where is the girl, pierre?" he urged. "such a fool as you are, gohawk! she is with her father." a half-hour later, in a large sitting-room, freddy tarlton was making eloquent toasts over the wine. as they all stood drinking to pierre, the door opened from the hall-way, and malachi stood before them. at his shoulder was a face, wistful, worn, yet with a kind of happiness too; and the eyes had depths which any man might be glad to drown his heart in. malachi stood still, not speaking, and an awe or awkwardness fell on the group at the table. but norice stepped forward a little, and said: "may we come in?" in an instant freddy tarlton was by her side, and had her by the hand, her and her father, drawing them over. his ardent, admiring look gave norice thought for many a day. and that night pierre made an accurate prophecy. the lake of the great slave when tybalt the tale-gatherer asked why it was so called, pierre said: "because of the great slave;" and then paused. tybalt did not hurry pierre, knowing his whims. if he wished to tell, he would in his own time; if not, nothing could draw it from him. it was nearly an hour before pierre, eased off from the puzzle he was solving with bits of paper and obliged tybalt. he began as if they had been speaking the moment before: "they have said it is legend, but i know better. i have seen the records of the company, and it is all there. i was at fort o'glory once, and in a box two hundred years old the factor and i found it. there were other papers, and some of them had large red seals, and a name scrawled along the end of the page." pierre shook his head, as if in contented musing. he was a born storyteller. tybalt was aching with interest, for he scented a thing of note. "how did any of those papers, signed with a scrawl, begin?" he asked. "'to our dearly-beloved,' or something like that," answered pierre. "there were letters also. two of them were full of harsh words, and these were signed with the scrawl." "what was that scrawl?" asked tybalt. pierre stooped to the sand, and wrote two words with his finger. "like that," he answered. tybalt looked intently for an instant, and then drew a long breath. "charles rex," he said, hardly above his breath. pierre gave him a suggestive sidelong glance. "that name was droll, eh?" tybalt's blood was tingling with the joy of discovery. "it is a great name," he said shortly. "the slave was great--the indians said so at the last." "but that was not the name of the slave?" "mais non. who said so! charles rex--like that! was the man who wrote the letters." "to the great slave?" pierre made a gesture of impatience. "very sure." "where are those letters now?" "with the governor of the company." tybalt cut the tobacco for his pipe savagely. "you'd have liked one of those papers?" asked pierre provokingly. "i'd give five hundred dollars for one," broke out tybalt. pierre lifted his eyebrows. "t'sh, what's the good of five hundred dollars up here? what would you do with a letter like that?" tybalt laughed with a touch of irony, for pierre was clearly "rubbing it in." "perhaps for a book?" gently asked pierre. "yes, if you like." "it is a pity. but there is a way." "how?" "put me in the book. then--" "how does that touch the case?" pierre shrugged a shoulder gently, for he thought tybalt was unusually obtuse. tybalt thought so himself before the episode ended. "go on," he said, with clouded brow, but interested eye. then, as if with sudden thought: "to whom were the letters addressed, pierre?" "wait!" was the reply. "one letter said: 'good cousin, we are evermore glad to have thee and thy most excelling mistress near us. so, fail us not at our cheerful doings, yonder at highgate.' another--a year after-said: 'cousin, for the sweetening of our mind, get thee gone into some distant corner of our pasturage--the farthest doth please us most. we would not have thee on foreign ground, for we bear no ill-will to our brother princes, and yet we would not have thee near our garden of good loyal souls, for thou hast a rebel heart and a tongue of divers tunes. thou lovest not the good old song of duty to thy prince. obeying us, thy lady shall keep thine estates untouched; failing obedience, thou wilt make more than thy prince unhappy. fare thee well.' that was the way of two letters," said pierre. "how do you remember so?" pierre shrugged a shoulder again. "it is easy with things like that." "but word for word?" "i learned it word for word." "now for the story of the lake--if you won't tell me the name of the man." "the name afterwards-perhaps. well, he came to that farthest corner of the pasturage, to the hudson's bay country, two hundred years ago. what do you think? was he so sick of all, that he would go so far he could never get back? maybe those 'cheerful doings' at highgate, eh? and the lady--who can tell?" tybalt seized pierre's arm. "you know more. damnation, can't you see i'm on needles to hear? was there anything in the letters about the lady? anything more than you've told?" pierre liked no man's hand on him. he glanced down at the eager fingers, and said coldly: "you are a great man; you can tell a story in many ways, but i in one way alone, and that is my way--mais oui!" "very well, take your own time." "bien. i got the story from two heads. if you hear a thing like that from indians, you call it 'legend'; if from the company's papers, you call it 'history.' well, in this there is not much difference. the papers tell precise the facts; the legend gives the feeling, is more true. how can you judge the facts if you don't know the feeling? no! what is bad turns good sometimes, when you know the how, the feeling, the place. well, this story of the great slave--eh? . . . there is a race of indians in the far north who have hair so brown like yours, m'sieu', and eyes no darker. it is said they are of those that lived at the pole, before the sea swamped the isthmus, and swallowed up so many islands. so. in those days the fair race came to the south for the first time, that is, far below the circle. they had their women with them. i have seen those of to-day: fine and tall, with breasts like apples, and a cheek to tempt a man like you, m'sieu'; no grease in the hair--no, m'sieu' tybalt." tybalt sat moveless under the obvious irony, but his eyes were fixed intently on pierre, his mind ever travelling far ahead of the tale. "alors: the 'good cousin' of charles rex, he made a journey with two men to the far-off metal river, and one day this tribe from the north come on his camp. it was summer, and they were camping in the valley of the young moon, more sweet, they say, than any in the north. the indians cornered them. there was a fight, and one of the company's men was killed, and five of the other. but when the king of the people of the pole saw that the great man was fair of face, he called for the fight to stop. "there was a big talk all by signs, and the king said for the great man to come and be one with them, for they liked his fair face--their forefathers were fair like him. he should have the noblest of their women for his wife, and be a prince among them. he would not go: so they drew away again and fought. a stone-axe brought the great man to the ground. he was stunned, not killed. then the other man gave up, and said he would be one of them if they would take him. they would have killed him but for one of their women. she said that he should live to tell them tales of the south country and the strange people, when they came again to their camp-fires. so they let him live, and he was one of them. but the chief man, because he was stubborn and scorned them, and had killed the son of their king in the fight, they made a slave, and carried him north a captive, till they came to this lake--the lake of the great slave. "in all ways they tried him, but he would not yield, neither to wear their dress nor to worship their gods. he was robbed of his clothes, of his gold-handled dagger, his belt of silk and silver, his carbine with rich chasing, and all, and he was among them almost naked,--it was summer, as i said, yet defying them. he was taller by a head than any of them, and his white skin rippled in the sun like soft steel." tybalt was inclined to ask pierre how he knew all this, but he held his peace. pierre, as if divining his thoughts, continued: "you ask how i know these things. very good: there are the legends, and there were the papers of the company. the indians tried every way, but it was no use; he would have nothing to say to them. at last they came to this lake. now something great occurred. the woman who had been the wife of the king's dead son, her heart went out in love of the great slave; but he never looked at her. one day there were great sports, for it was the feast of the red star. the young men did feats of strength, here on this ground where we sit. the king's wife called out for the great slave to measure strength with them all. he would not stir. the king commanded him; still he would not, but stood among them silent and looking far away over their heads. at last, two young men of good height and bone threw arrows at his bare breast. the blood came in spots. then he gave a cry through his beard, and was on them like a lion. he caught them, one in each arm, swung them from the ground, and brought their heads together with a crash, breaking their skulls, and dropped them at his feet. catching up a long spear, he waited for the rest. but they did not come, for, with a loud voice, the king told them to fall back, and went and felt the bodies of the men. one of them was dead; the other was his second son--he would live. "'it is a great deed,' said the king, 'for these were no children, but strong men.' "then again he offered the great slave women to marry, and fifty tents of deerskin for the making of a village. but the great slave said no, and asked to be sent back to fort o'glory. "the king refused. but that night, as he slept in his tent, the girlwidow came to him, waked him, and told him to follow her. he came forth, and she led him softly through the silent camp to that wood which we see over there. he told her she need not go on. without a word, she reached over and kissed him on the breast. then he understood. he told her that she could not come with him, for there was that lady in england--his wife, eh? but never mind, that will come. he was too great to save his life, or be free at the price. some are born that way. they have their own commandments, and they keep them. "he told her that she must go back. she gave a little cry, and sank down at his feet, saying that her life would be in danger if she went back. "then he told her to come, for it was in his mind to bring her to fort o'glory, where she could marry an indian there. but now she would not go with him, and turned towards the village. a woman is a strange creature --yes, like that! he refused to go and leave her. she was in danger, and he would share it, whatever it might be. so, though she prayed him not, he went back with her; and when she saw that he would go in spite of all, she was glad: which is like a woman. "when he entered the tent again, he guessed her danger, for he stepped over the bodies of two dead men. she had killed them. as she turned at the door to go to her own tent, another woman faced her. it was the wife of the king, who had suspected, and had now found out. who can tell what it was? jealousy, perhaps. the great slave could tell, maybe, if he could speak, for a man always knows when a woman sets him high. anyhow, that was the way it stood. in a moment the girl was marched back to her tent, and all the camp heard a wicked lie of the widow of the king's son. "to it there was an end after the way of their laws. "the woman should die by fire, and the man, as the king might will. so there was a great gathering in the place where we are, and the king sat against that big white stone, which is now as it was then. silence was called, and they brought the girl-widow forth. the king spoke: "'thou who hadst a prince for thy husband, didst go in the night to the tent of the slave who killed thy husband; whereby thou also becamest a slave, and didst shame the greatness which was given thee. thou shalt die, as has been set in our laws.' "the girl-widow rose, and spoke. 'i did not know, o king, that he whom thou madest a slave slew my husband, the prince of our people, and thy son. that was not told me. but had i known it, still would i have set him free, for thy son was killed in fair battle, and this man deserves not slavery or torture. i did seek the tent of the great slave, and it was to set him free--no more. for that did i go, and, for the rest, my soul is open to the spirit who sees. i have done naught, and never did, nor ever will, that might shame a king, or the daughter of a king, or the wife of a king, or a woman. if to set a great captive free is death for me, then am i ready. i will answer all pure women in the far camp of the great fires without fear. there is no more, o king, that i may say, but this: she who dies by fire, being of noble blood, may choose who shall light the faggots--is it not so?' "then the king replied: 'it is so. such is our law.' "there was counselling between the king and his oldest men, and so long were they handling the matter backwards and forwards that it seemed she might go free. but the king's wife, seeing, came and spoke to the king and the others, crying out for the honour of her dead son; so that in a moment of anger they all cried out for death. "when the king said again to the girl that she must die by fire, she answered: 'it is as the gods will. but it is so, as i said, that i may choose who shall light the fires?' "the king answered yes, and asked her whom she chose. she pointed towards the great slave. and all, even the king and his councillors, wondered, for they knew little of the heart of women. what is a man with a matter like that? nothing--nothing at all. they would have set this for punishment: that she should ask for it was beyond them. yes, even the king's wife--it was beyond her. but the girl herself, see you, was it not this way?--if she died by the hand of him she loved, then it would be easy, for she could forget the pain, in the thought that his heart would ache for her, and that at the very last he might care, and she should see it. she was great in her way also--that girl, two hundred years ago. "alors, they led her a little distance off,--there is the spot, where you see the ground heave a little, and the great slave was brought up. the king told him why the girl was to die. he went like stone, looking, looking at them. he knew that the girl's heart was like a little child's, and the shame and cruelty of the thing froze him silent for a minute, and the colour flew from his face to here and there on his body, as a flame on marble. the cords began to beat and throb in his neck and on his forehead, and his eyes gave out fire like flint on an arrow-head. "then he began to talk. he could not say much, for he knew so little of their language. but it was 'no!' every other word. 'no--no--no--no!' the words ringing from his chest. 'she is good!' he said. 'the otherno!' and he made a motion with his hand. 'she must not die--no! evil? it is a lie! i will kill each man that says it, one by one, if he dares come forth. she tried to save me--well?' then he made them know that he was of high place in a far country, and that a man like him would not tell a lie. that pleased the king, for he was proud, and he saw that the slave was of better stuff than himself. besides, the king was a brave man, and he had strength, and more than once he had laid his hand on the chest of the other, as one might on a grand animal. perhaps, even then, they might have spared the girl was it not for the queen. she would not hear of it. then they tried the great slave, and he was found guilty. the queen sent him word to beg for pardon. so he stood out and spoke to the queen. she sat up straight, with pride in her eyes, for was it not a great prince, as she thought, asking? but a cloud fell on her face, for he begged the girl's life. since there must be death, let him die, and die by fire in her place! it was then two women cried out: the poor girl for joy--not at the thought that her life would be saved, but because she thought the man loved her now, or he would not offer to die for her; and the queen for hate, because she thought the same. you can guess the rest: they were both to die, though the king was sorry for the man. "the king's speaker stood out and asked them if they had anything to say. the girl stepped forward, her face without any fear, but a kind of noble pride in it, and said: 'i am ready, o king.' "the great slave bowed his head, and was thinking much. they asked him again, and he waved his hand at them. the king spoke up in anger, and then he smiled and said: 'o king, i am not ready; if i die, i die.' then he fell to thinking again. but once more the king spoke: 'thou shalt surely die, but not by fire, nor now; nor till we have come to our great camp in our own country. there thou shalt die. but the woman shall die at the going down of the sun. she shall die by fire, and thou shalt light the faggots for the burning.' "the great slave said he would not do it, not though he should die a hundred deaths. then the king said that it was the woman's right to choose who should start the fire, and he had given his word, which should not be broken. "when the great slave heard this he was wild for a little, and then he guessed altogether what was in the girl's mind. was not this the true thing in her, the very truest? mais oui! that was what she wished-to die by his hand rather than by any other; and something troubled his breast, and a cloud came in his eyes, so that for a moment he could not see. he looked at the girl, so serious, eye to eye. perhaps she understood. so, after a time, he got calm as the farthest light in the sky, his face shining among them all with a look none could read. he sat down, and wrote upon pieces of bark with a spear-point--those bits of bark i have seen also at fort o'glory. he pierced them through with dried strings of the slippery-elm tree, and with the king's consent gave them to the company's man, who had become one of the people, telling him, if ever he was free, or could send them to the company, he must do so. the man promised, and shame came upon him that he had let the other suffer alone; and he said he was willing to fight and die if the great slave gave the word. but he would not; and he urged that it was right for the man to save his life. for himself, no. it could never be; and if he must die, he must die. "you see, a great man must always live alone and die alone, when there are only such people about him. so, now that the letters were written, he sat upon the ground and thought, looking often towards the girl, who was placed apart, with guards near. the king sat thinking also. he could not guess why the great slave should give the letters now, since he was not yet to die, nor could the company's man show a reason when the king asked him. so the king waited, and told the guards to see that the great slave did not kill himself. "but the queen wanted the death of the girl, and was glad beyond telling that the slave must light the faggots. she was glad when she saw the young braves bring a long sapling from the forest, and, digging a hole, put it stoutly in the ground, and fetch wood, and heap it about. "the great slave noted that the bark of the sapling had not been stripped, and more than once he measured, with his eye, the space between the stake and the shores of the lake: he did this most private, so that no one saw but the girl. "at last the time was come. the lake was all rose and gold out there in the west, and the water so still so still. the cool, moist scent of the leaves and grass came out from the woods and up from the plain, and the world was so full of content that a man's heart could cry out, even as now, while we look--eh, is it not good? see the deer drinking on the other shore there!" suddenly pierre became silent, as if he had forgotten the story altogether. tybalt was impatient, but he did not speak. he took a twig, and in the sand he wrote "charles rex." pierre glanced down and saw it. "there was beating of the little drums," he continued, "and the crying of the king's speaker; and soon all was ready, and the people gathered at a distance, and the king and the queen, and the chief men nearer; and the girl was brought forth. "as they led her past the great slave, she looked into his eyes, and afterwards her heart was glad, for she knew that at the last he would be near her, and that his hand should light the fires. two men tied her to the stake. then the king's man cried out again, telling of her crime, and calling for her death. the great slave was brought near. no one knew that the palms of his hands had been rubbed in the sand for a purpose. when he was brought beside the stake, a torch was given him by his guards. he looked at the girl, and she smiled at him, and said: 'good-bye. forgive. i die not afraid, and happy.' "he did not answer, but stooped and lit the sticks here and there. all at once he snatched a burning stick, and it and the torch he thrust, like lightning, in the faces of his guards, blinding them. then he sprang to the stake, and, with a huge pull, tore it from the ground, girl and all, and rushed to the shore of the lake, with her tied so in his arms. "he had been so swift that, at first, no one stirred. he reached the shore, rushed into the water, dragging a boat out with one hand as he did so, and, putting the girl in, seized a paddle and was away with a start. a few strokes, and then he stopped, picked up a hatchet that was in the boat with many spears, and freed the girl. then he paddled on, trusting, with a small hope, that through his great strength he could keep ahead till darkness came, and then, in the gloom, they might escape. the girl also seized an oar, and the canoe--the king's own canoe--came on like a swallow. "but the tribe was after them in fifty canoes, some coming straight along, some spreading out to close in later. it was no equal game, for these people were so quick and strong with the oars, and they were a hundred or more to two. there could be but one end. it was what the great slave had looked for: to fight till the last breath. he should fight for the woman who had risked all for him--just a common woman of the north, but it seemed good to lose his life for her; and she would be happy to die with him. "so they stood side by side when the spears and arrows fell round them, and they gave death and wounds for wounds in their own bodies. when, at last, the indians climbed into the canoe, the great slave was dead of many wounds, and the woman, all gashed, lay with her lips to his wet, red cheek. she smiled as they dragged her away; and her soul hurried after his to the camp of the great fires." it was long before tybalt spoke, but at last he said: if i could but tell it as you have told it to me, pierre!" pierre answered: "tell it with your tongue, and this shall be nothing to it, for what am i? what english have i, a gipsy of the snows? but do not write it, mais non! writing wanders from the matter. the eyes, and the tongue, and the time, that is the thing. but in a book--it will sound all cold and thin. it is for the north, for the camp-fire, for the big talk before a man rolls into his blanket, and is at peace. no, no writing, monsieur. speak it everywhere with your tongue." "and so i would, were my tongue as yours. pierre, tell me more about the letters at fort o'glory. you know his name--what was it?" "you said five hundred dollars for one of those letters. is it not?" "yes." tybalt had a new hope. "t'sh! what do i want of five hundred dollars! but, here, answer me a question: was the lady--his wife, she that was left in england--a good woman? answer me out of your own sense, and from my story. if you say right you shall have a letter--one that i have by me." tybalt's heart leapt into his throat. after a little he said huskily: "she was a good woman--he believed her that, and so shall i." "you think he could not have been so great unless, eh? and that 'charles rex,' what of him?" "what good can it do to call him bad now?" without a word, pierre drew from a leather wallet a letter, and, by the light of the fast-setting sun, tybalt read it, then read it again, and yet again. "poor soul! poor lady!" he said. "was ever such another letter written to any man? and it came too late; this, with the king's recall, came too late!" "so--so. he died out there where that wild duck flies--a great slave. years after, the company's man brought word of all." tybalt was looking at the name on the outside of the letter. "how do they call that name?" asked pierre. "it is like none i've seen --no." tybalt shook his head sorrowfully, and did not answer. the red patrol st. augustine's, canterbury, had given him its licentiate's hood, the bishop of rupert's land had ordained him, and the north had swallowed him up. he had gone forth with surplice, stole, hood, a sermon-case, the prayer-book, and that other book of all. indian camps, trappers' huts, and company's posts had given him hospitality, and had heard him with patience and consideration. at first he wore the surplice, stole, and hood, took the eastward position, and intoned the service, and no man said him nay, but watched him curiously and was sorrowful--he was so youthful, clear of eye, and bent on doing heroical things. but little by little there came a change. the hood was left behind at fort o'glory, where it provoked the derision of the methodist missionary who followed him; the sermon-case stayed at fort o'battle; and at last the surplice itself was put by at the company's post at yellow quill. he was too excited and in earnest at first to see the effect of his ministrations, but there came slowly over him the knowledge that he was talking into space. he felt something returning on him out of the air into which he talked, and buffeting him. it was the spirit of the north, in which lives the terror, the large heart of things, the soul of the past. he awoke to his inadequacy, to the fact that all these men to whom he talked, listened, and only listened, and treated him with a gentleness which was almost pity--as one might a woman. he had talked doctrine, the church, the sacraments, and at fort o'battle he faced definitely the futility of his work. what was to blame--the church--religion--himself? it was at fort o'battle that he met pierre, and heard a voice say over his shoulder, as he walked out into the icy dusk: "the voice of one crying in the wilderness . . . and he had sackcloth about his loins, and his food was locusts and wild honey." he turned to see pierre, who in the large room of the post had sat and watched him as he prayed and preached. he had remarked the keen, curious eye, the musing look, the habitual disdain at the lips. it had all touched him, confused him; and now he had a kind of anger. "you know it so well, why don't you preach yourself?" he said feverishly. "i have been preaching all my life," pierre answered drily. "the devil's games: cards and law-breaking; and you sneer at men who try to bring lost sheep into the fold." "the fold of the church--yes, i understand all that," pierre answered. "i have heard you and the priests of my father's church talk. which is right? but as for me, i am a missionary. cards, law-breaking--these are what i have done; but these are not what i have preached." "what have you preached?" asked the other, walking on into the fastgathering night, beyond the post and the indian lodges, into the wastes where frost and silence lived. pierre waved his hand towards space. "this," he said suggestively. "what's this?" asked the other fretfully. "the thing you feel round you here." "i feel the cold," was the petulant reply. "i feel the immense, the far off," said pierre slowly. the other did not understand as yet. "you've learned big words," he said disdainfully. "no; big things," rejoined pierre sharply--"a few." "let me hear you preach them," half snarled sherburne. "you will not like to hear them--no." "i'm not likely to think about them one way or another," was the contemptuous reply. pierre's eyes half closed. the young, impetuous half-baked college man. to set his little knowledge against his own studious vagabondage! at that instant he determined to play a game and win; to turn this man into a vagabond also; to see john the baptist become a bedouin. he saw the doubt, the uncertainty, the shattered vanity in the youth's mind, the missionary's half retreat from his cause. a crisis was at hand. the youth was fretful with his great theme, instead of being severe upon himself. for days and days pierre's presence had acted on sherburne silently but forcibly. he had listened to the vagabond's philosophy, and knew that it was of a deeper--so much deeper--knowledge of life than he himself possessed, and he knew also that it was terribly true; he was not wise enough to see that it was only true in part. the influence had been insidious, delicate, cunning, and he himself was only "a voice crying in the wilderness," without the simple creed of that voice. he knew that the methodist missionary was believed in more, if less liked, than himself. pierre would work now with all the latent devilry of his nature to unseat the man from his saddle. "you have missed the great thing, alors, though you have been up here two years," he said. "you do not feel, you do not know. what good have you done? who has got on his knees and changed his life because of you? who has told his beads or longed for the mass because of you? tell me, who has ever said, 'you have showed me how to live'? even the women, though they cry sometimes when you sing-song the prayers, go on just the same when the little 'bless-you' is over. why? most of them know a better thing than you tell them. here is the truth: you are little--eh, so very little. you never lied--direct; you never stole the waters that are sweet; you never knew the big dreams that come with wine in the dead of night; you never swore at your own soul and heard it laugh back at you; you never put your face in the breast of a woman--do not look so wild at me!--you never had a child; you never saw the world and yourself through the doors of real life. you never have said, 'i am tired; i am sick of all; i have seen all.' you have never felt what came after-understanding. chut, your talk is for children--and missionaries. you are a prophet without a call, you are a leader without a man to lead, you are less than a child up here. for here the children feel a peace in their blood when the stars come out, and a joy in their brains when the dawn comes up and reaches a yellow hand to the pole, and the west wind shouts at them. holy mother! we in the far north, we feel things, for all the great souls of the dead are up there at the pole in the pleasant land, and we have seen the scarlet hunter and the kimash hills. you have seen nothing. you have only heard, and because, like a child, you have never sinned, you come and preach to us!" the night was folding down fast, all the stars were shooting out into their places, and in the north the white lights of the aurora were flying to and fro. pierre had spoken with a slow force and precision, yet, as he went on, his eyes almost became fixed on those shifting flames, and a deep look came into them, as he was moved by his own eloquence. never in his life had he made so long a speech at once. he paused, and then said suddenly: "come, let us run." he broke into a long, sliding trot, and sherburne did the same. with their arms gathered to their sides they ran for quite two miles without a word, until the heavy breathing of the clergyman brought pierre up suddenly. "you do not run well," he said; "you do not run with the whole body. you know so little. did you ever think how much such men as jacques parfaite know? the earth they read like a book, the sky like an animal's ways, and a man's face like--like the writing on the wall." "like the writing on the wall," said sherburne, musing; for, under the other's influence, his petulance was gone. he knew that he was not a part of this life, that he was ignorant of it; of, indeed, all that was vital in it and in men and women. "i think you began this too soon. you should have waited; then you might have done good. but here we are wiser than you. you have no message-no real message--to give us; down in your heart you are not even sure of yourself." sherburne sighed. "i'm of no use," he said. "i'll get out. i'm no good at all." pierre's eyes glistened. he remembered how, the day before, this youth had said hot words about his card-playing; had called him--in effect-a thief; had treated him as an inferior, as became one who was of st. augustine's, canterbury. "it is the great thing to be free," pierre said, "that no man shall look for this or that of you. just to do as far as you feel, as far as you are sure--that is the best. in this you are not sure--no. hein, is it not?" sherburne did not answer. anger, distrust, wretchedness, the spirit of the alien, loneliness, were alive in him. the magnetism of this deep penetrating man, possessed of a devil, was on him, and in spite of every reasonable instinct he turned to him for companionship. "it's been a failure," he burst out, "and i'm sick of it--sick of it; but i can't give it up." pierre said nothing. they had come to what seemed a vast semicircle of ice and snow, a huge amphitheatre in the plains. it was wonderful: a great round wall on which the northern lights played, into which the stars peered. it was open towards the north, and in one side was a fissure shaped like a gothic arch. pierre pointed to it, and they did not speak till they had passed through it. like great seats the steppes of snow ranged round, and in the centre was a kind of plateau of ice, as it might seem a stage or an altar. to the north there was a great opening, the lost arc of the circle, through which the mystery of the pole swept in and out, or brooded there where no man may question it. pierre stood and looked. time and again he had been here, and had asked the same question: who had ever sat on those frozen benches and looked down at the drama on that stage below? who played the parts? was it a farce or a sacrifice? to him had been given the sorrow of imagination, and he wondered and wondered. or did they come still--those strange people, whoever they were--and watch ghostly gladiators at their fatal sport? if they came, when was it? perhaps they were there now unseen. in spite of himself he shuddered. who was the keeper of the house? through his mind there ran--pregnant to him for the first tine--a chanson of the scarlet hunter, the red patrol, who guarded the sleepers in the kimash hills against the time they should awake and possess the land once more: the friend of the lost, the lover of the vagabond, and of all who had no home: "strangers come to the outer walls- (why do the sleepers stir?) strangers enter the judgment house- (why do the sleepers sigh?) slow they rise in their judgment seats, sieve and measure the naked souls, then with a blessing return to sleep- (quiet the judgment house.) lone and sick are the vagrant souls- (when shall the world come home?)" he reflected upon the words, and a feeling of awe came over him, for he had been in the white valley and had seen the scarlet hunter. but there came at once also a sinister desire to play a game for this man's lifework here. he knew that the other was ready for any wild move; there was upon him the sense of failure and disgust; he was acted on by the magic of the night, the terrible delight of the scene, and that might be turned to advantage. he said: "am i not right? there is something in the world greater than the creeds and the book of the mass. to be free and to enjoy, that is the thing. never before have you felt what you feel here now. and i will show you more. i will teach you how to know, i will lead you through all the north and make you to understand the big things of life. then, when you have known, you can return if you will. but now--see: i will tell you what i will do. here on this great platform we will play a game of cards. there is a man whose life i can ruin. if you win i promise to leave him safe; and to go out of the far north for ever, to go back to quebec"--he had a kind of gaming fever in his veins. "if i win, you give up the church, leaving behind the prayerbook, the bible and all, coming with me to do what i shall tell you, for the passing of twelve moons. it is a great stake--will you play it? come"--he leaned forward, looking into the other's face--"will you play it? they drew lots--those people in the bible. we will draw lots, and see, eh?--and see?" "i accept the stake," said sherburne, with a little gasp. without a word they went upon that platform, shaped like an altar, and pierre at once drew out a pack of cards, shuffling them with his mittened hands. then he knelt down and said, as he laid out the cards one by one till there were thirty: "whoever gets the ace of hearts first, wins-hein?" sherburne nodded and knelt also. the cards lay back upwards in three rows. for a moment neither stirred. the white, metallic stars saw it, the small crescent moon beheld it, and the deep wonder of night made it strange and dreadful. once or twice sherburne looked round as though he felt others present, and once pierre looked out to the wide portals, as though he saw some one entering. but there was nothing to the eye-nothing. presently pierre said: "begin." the other drew a card, then pierre drew one, then the other, then pierre again; and so on. how slow the game was! neither hurried, but both, kneeling, looked and looked at the card long before drawing and turning it over. the stake was weighty, and pierre loved the game more than he cared about the stake. sherburne cared nothing about the game, but all his soul seemed set upon the hazard. there was not a sound out of the night, nothing stirring but the spirit of the north. twenty, twenty-five cards were drawn, and then pierre paused. "in a minute all will be settled," he said. "will you go on, or will you pause?" but sherburne had got the madness of chance in his veins now, and he said: "quick, quick, go on!" pierre drew, but the great card held back. sherburne drew, then pierre again. there were three left. sherburne's face was as white as the snow around him. his mouth was open, and a little white cloud of frosted breath came out. his hand hungered for the card, drew back, then seized it. a moan broke from him. then pierre, with a little weird laugh, reached out and turned over the ace of hearts! they both stood up. pierre put the cards in his pocket. "you have lost," he said. sherburne threw back his head with a reckless laugh. the laugh seemed to echo and echo through the amphitheatre, and then from the frozen seats, the hillocks of ice and snow, there was a long, low sound, as of sorrow, and a voice came after: "sleep--sleep! blessed be the just and the keepers of vows." sherburne stood shaking, as though he had seen a host of spirits. his eyes on the great seats of judgment, he said to pierre: "see, see, how they sit there, grey and cold and awful!" but pierre shook his head. "there is nothing," he said, "nothing;" yet he knew that sherburne was looking upon the men of judgment of the kimash hills, the sleepers. he looked round, half fearfully, for if here were those great children of the ages, where was the keeper of the house, the red patrol? even as he thought, a figure in scarlet with a noble face and a high pride of bearing stood before them, not far away. sherburne clutched his arm. then the red patrol, the scarlet hunter spoke: "why have you sinned your sins and broken your vows within our house of judgment? know ye not that in the new springtime of the world ye shall be outcast, because ye have called the sleepers to judgment before their time? but i am the hunter of the lost. go you," he said to sherburne, pointing, "where a sick man lies in a hut in the shikam valley. in his soul find thine own again." then to pierre: "for thee, thou shalt know the desert and the storm and the lonely hills; thou shalt neither seek nor find. go, and return no more." the two men, sherburne falteringly, stepped down and moved to the open plain. they turned at the great entrance and looked back. where they had stood there rested on his long bow the red patrol. he raised it, and a flaming arrow flew through the sky towards the south. they followed its course, and when they looked back a little afterwards, the great judgment-house was empty, and the whole north was silent as the sleepers. at dawn they came to the hut in the shikam valley, and there they found a trapper dying. he had sinned greatly, and he could not die without someone to show him how, to tell him what to say to the angel of the cross-roads. sherburne, kneeling by him, felt his own new soul moved by a holy fire, and, first praying for himself, he said to the sick man: "for if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." praying for both, his heart grew strong, and he heard the sick man say, ere he journeyed forth to the crossroads: "you have shown me the way. i have peace." "speak for me in the presence," said sherburne softly. the dying man could not answer, but that moment, as he journeyed forth on the far trail, he held sherburne's hand. the going of the white swan "why don't she come back, father?" the man shook his head, his hand fumbled with the wolf-skin robe covering the child, and he made no reply. "she'd come if she knew i was hurted, wouldn't she?" the father nodded, and then turned restlessly toward the door, as though expecting someone. the look was troubled, and the pipe he held was not alight, though he made a pretence of smoking. "suppose the wild cat had got me, she'd be sorry when she comes, wouldn't she?" there was no reply yet, save by gesture, the language of primitive man; but the big body shivered a little, and the uncouth hand felt for a place in the bed where the lad's knee made a lump under the robe. he felt the little heap tenderly, but the child winced. "s-sh, but that hurts! this wolf-skin's most too much on me, isn't it, father?" the man softly, yet awkwardly too, lifted the robe, folded it back, and slowly uncovered the knee. the leg was worn away almost to skin and bone, but the knee itself was swollen with inflammation. he bathed it with some water, mixed with vinegar and herbs, then drew down the deerskin shirt at the child's shoulder, and did the same with it. both shoulder and knee bore the marks of teeth--where a huge wild cat had made havoc--and the body had long red scratches. presently the man shook his head sorrowfully, and covered up the small disfigured frame again, but this time with a tanned skin of the caribou. the flames of the huge wood fire dashed the walls and floor with a velvety red and black, and the large iron kettle, bought of the company at fort sacrament, puffed out geysers of steam. the place was a low but with parchment windows and rough mud-mortar lumped between the logs. skins hung along two sides, with bullet-holes and knife-holes showing: of the great grey wolf, the red puma, the bronze hill-lion, the beaver, the bear, and the sable; and in one corner was a huge pile of them. bare of the usual comforts as the room was, it had a sort of refinement also, joined to an inexpressible loneliness; you could scarce have told how or why. "father," said the boy, his face pinched with pain for a moment, "it hurts so all over, every once in a while." his fingers caressed the leg just below the knee. "father," he suddenly added, "what does it mean when you hear a bird sing in the middle of the night?" the woodsman looked down anxiously into the boy's face. "it hasn't no meaning, dominique. there ain't such a thing on the labrador heights as a bird singin' in the night. that's only in warm countries where there's nightingales. so--bien sur!" the boy had a wise, dreamy, speculative look. "well, i guess it was a nightingale--it didn't sing like any i ever heard." the look of nervousness deepened in the woodsman's face. "what did it sing like, dominique?" "so it made you shiver. you wanted it to go on, and yet you didn't want it. it was pretty, but you felt as if something was going to snap inside of you." "when did you hear it, my son?" "twice last night--and--and i guess it was sunday the other time. i don't know, for there hasn't been no sunday up here since mother went away--has there?" "mebbe not." the veins were beating like live cords in the man's throat and at his temples. "'twas just the same as father corraine bein' here, when mother had sunday, wasn't it?" the man made no reply, but a gloom drew down his forehead, and his lips doubled in as if he endured physical pain. he got to his feet and paced the floor. for weeks he had listened to the same kind of talk from this wounded, and, as he thought, dying son, and he was getting less and less able to bear it. the boy at nine years of age was, in manner of speech, the merest child, but his thoughts were sometimes large and wise. the only white child within a compass of three hundred miles or so; the lonely life of the hills and plains, so austere in winter, so melted to a sober joy in summer; listening to the talk of his elders at camp-fires and on the hunting-trail, when, even as an infant almost, he was swung in a blanket from a tree or was packed in the torch-crane of a canoe; and, more than all, the care of a good, loving--if passionate--little mother: all these had made him far wiser than his years. he had been hours upon hours each day alone with the birds, and squirrels, and wild animals, and something of the keen scent and instinct of the animal world had entered into his body and brain, so that he felt what he could not understand. he saw that he had worried his father, and it troubled him. he thought of something. "daddy," he said, "let me have it." a smile struggled for life in the hunter's face, as he turned to the wall and took down the skin of a silver fox. he held it on his palm for a moment, looking at it in an interested, satisfied way, then he brought it over and put it into the child's hands; and the smile now shaped itself, as he saw an eager pale face buried in the soft fur. "good! good!" he said involuntarily. "bon! bon!" said the boy's voice from the fur, in the language of his mother, who added a strain of indian blood to her french ancestry. the two sat there, the man half-kneeling on the low bed, and stroking the fur very gently. it could scarcely be thought that such pride should be spent on a little pelt by a mere backwoodsman and his nine-year-old son. one has seen a woman fingering a splendid necklace, her eyes fascinated by the bunch of warm, deep jewels--a light not of mere vanity, or hunger, or avarice in her face--only the love of the beautiful thing. but this was an animal's skin. did they feel the animal underneath it yet, giving it beauty, life, glory? the silver-fox skin is the prize of the north, and this one was of the boy's own harvesting. while his father was away he saw the fox creeping by the hut. the joy of the hunter seized him, and guided his eye over the sights of his father's rifle, as he rested the barrel on the windowsill, and the animal was his! now his finger ran into the hole made by the bullet, and he gave a little laugh of modest triumph. minutes passed as they studied, felt, and admired the skin, the hunter proud of his son, the son alive with a primitive passion, which inflicts suffering to get the beautiful thing. perhaps the tenderness as well as the wild passion of the animal gets into the hunter's blood, and tips his fingers at times with an exquisite kindness--as one has noted in a lion fondling her young, or in tigers as they sport upon the sands of the desert. this boy had seen his father shoot a splendid moose, and as it lay dying, drop down and kiss it in the neck for sheer love of its handsomeness. death is no insult. it is the law of the primitive world--war, and love in war. they sat there for a long time, not speaking, each busy in his own way: the boy full of imaginings, strange, half-heathen, half-angelic feelings; the man roaming in that savage, romantic, superstitious atmosphere which belongs to the north, and to the north alone. at last the boy lay back on the pillow, his finger still in the bullet-hole of the pelt. his eyes closed, and he seemed about to fall asleep, but presently looked up and whispered: "i haven't said my prayers, have i?" the father shook his head in a sort of rude confusion. "i can pray out loud if i want to, can't i?" "of course, dominique." the man shrank a little. "i forget a good many times, but i know one all right, for i said it when the bird was singing. it isn't one out of the book father corraine sent mother by pretty pierre; it's one she taught me out of her own head. p'r'aps i'd better say it." "p'r'aps, if you want to." the voice was husky. the boy began: "o bon jesu, who died to save us from our sins, and to lead us to thy country, where there is no cold, nor hunger, nor thirst, and where no one is afraid, listen to thy child. . . . when the great winds and rains come down from the hills, do not let the floods drown us, nor the woods cover us, nor the snow-slide bury us; and do not let the prairie-fires burn us. keep wild beasts from killing us in our sleep, and give us good hearts that we may not kill them in anger." his finger twisted involuntarily into the bullet-hole in the pelt, and he paused a moment. "keep us from getting lost, o gracious saviour." again there was a pause, his eyes opened wide, and he said: "do you think mother's lost, father?" a heavy broken breath came from the father, and he replied haltingly: "mebbe, mebbe so." dominique's eyes closed again. "i'll make up some," he said slowly. "and if mother's lost, bring her back again to us, for everything's going wrong." again he paused, then went on with the prayer as it had been taught him. "teach us to hear thee whenever thou callest, and to see thee when thou visitest us, and let the blessed mary and all the saints speak often to thee for us. o christ, hear us. lord, have mercy upon us. christ have mercy upon us. amen." making the sign of the cross, he lay back, and said "i'll go to sleep now, i guess." the man sat for a long time looking at the pale, shining face, at the blue veins showing painfully dark on the temples and forehead, at the firm little white hand, which was as brown as a butternut a few weeks before. the longer he sat, the deeper did his misery sink into his soul. his wife had gone, he knew not where, his child was wasting to death, and he had for his sorrows no inner consolation. he had ever had that touch of mystical imagination inseparable from the far north, yet he had none of that religious belief which swallowed up natural awe and turned it to the refining of life, and to the advantage of a man's soul. now it was forced in upon him that his child was wiser than himself, wiser and safer. his life had been spent in the wastes, with rough deeds and rugged habits, and a youth of hardship, danger, and almost savage endurance, had given him a half-barbarian temperament, which could strike an angry blow at one moment and fondle to death at the next. when he married sweet lucette barbond his religion reached little farther than a belief in the scarlet hunter of the kimash hills and those voices that could be heard calling in the night, till their time of sleep be past, and they should rise and reconquer the north. not even father corraine, whose ways were like those of his master, could ever bring him to a more definite faith. his wife had at first striven with him, mourning yet loving. sometimes the savage in him had broken out over the little creature, merely because barbaric tyranny was in him --torture followed by the passionate kiss. but how was she philosopher enough to understand the cause? when she fled from their hut one bitter day, as he roared some wild words at her, it was because her nerves had all been shaken from threatened death by wild beasts (of which he did not know), and his violence drove her mad. she had run out of the house, and on, and on, and on--and she had never come back. that was weeks ago, and there had been no word nor sign of her since. the man was now busy with it all, in a slow, cumbrous way. a nature more to be touched by things seen than by things told, his mind was being awakened in a massive kind of fashion. he was viewing this crisis of his life as one sees a human face in the wide searching light of a great fire. he was restless, but he held himself still by a strong effort, not wishing to disturb the sleeper. his eyes seemed to retreat farther and farther back under his shaggy brows. the great logs in the chimney burned brilliantly, and a brass crucifix over the child's head now and again reflected soft little flashes of light. this caught the hunter's eye. presently there grew up in him a vague kind of hope that, somehow, this symbol would bring him luck--that was the way he put it to himself. he had felt this--and something more-when dominique prayed. somehow, dominique's prayer was the only one he had ever heard that had gone home to him, had opened up the big sluices of his nature, and let the light of god flood in. no, there was another: the one lucette made on the day that they were married, when a wonderful timid reverence played through his hungry love for her. hours passed. all at once, without any other motion or gesture, the boy's eyes opened wide with a strange, intense look. "father," he said slowly, and in a kind of dream, "when you hear a sweet horn blow at night, is it the scarlet hunter calling?" "p'r'aps. why, dominique?" he made up his mind to humour the boy, though it gave him strange aching forebodings. he had seen grown men and women with these fancies--and they had died. "i heard one blowing just now, and the sounds seemed to wave over my head. perhaps he's calling someone that's lost." "mebbe." "and i heard a voice singing--it wasn't a bird tonight." "there was no voice, dominique." "yes, yes." there was something fine in the grave, courteous certainty of the lad. "i waked and you were sitting there thinking, and i shut my eyes again, and i heard the voice. i remember the tune and the words." "what were the words?" in spite of himself the hunter felt awed. "i've heard mother sing them, or something most like them: "why does the fire no longer burn? (i am so lonely.) why does the tent-door swing outward? (i have no home.) oh, let me breathe hard in your face! (i am so lonely.) oh, why do you shut your eyes to me? (i have no home.)" the boy paused. "was that all, dominique?" "no, not all." "let us make friends with the stars; (i am so lonely.) give me your hand, i will hold it. (i have no home.) let us go hunting together. (i am so lonely.) we will sleep at god's camp to-night. (i have no home.)" dominique did not sing, but recited the words with a sort of chanting inflection. "what does it mean when you hear a voice like that, father?" "i don't know. who told--your mother--the song?" "oh, i don't know. i suppose she just made them up--she and god. . . . there! there it is again? don't you hear it--don't you hear it, daddy?" "no, dominique, it's only the kettle singing." "a kettle isn't a voice. daddy--" he paused a little, then went on, hesitatingly--"i saw a white swan fly through the door over your shoulder, when you came in to-night." "no, no, dominique; it was a flurry of snow blowing over my shoulder." "but it looked at me with two shining eyes." "that was two stars shining through the door, my son." "how could there be snow flying and stars shining too, father?" "it was just drift-snow on a light wind, but the stars were shining above, dominique." the man's voice was anxious and unconvincing, his eyes had a hungry, hunted look. the legend of the white swan had to do with the passing of a human soul. the swan had come in--would it go out alone? he touched the boy's hand--it was hot with fever; he felt the pulse--it ran high; he watched the face--it had a glowing light. something stirred within him, and passed like a wave to the farthest courses of his being. through his misery he had touched the garment of the master of souls. as though a voice said to him there, "someone hath touched me," he got to his feet, and, with a sudden blind humility, lit two candles, placed them on a shelf in a corner before a porcelain figure of the virgin, as he had seen his wife do. then he picked a small handful of fresh spruce twigs from a branch over the chimney, and laid them beside the candles. after a short pause he came slowly to the head of the boy's bed. very solemnly he touched the foot of the christ on the cross with the tips of his fingers, and brought them to his lips with an indescribable reverence. after a moment, standing with eyes fixed on the face of the crucified figure, he said, in a shaking voice: "pardon, bon jesu! sauvez mon enfant! ne me laissez pas seul!" the boy looked up with eyes again grown unnaturally heavy, and said: "amen! . . . bon jesu ! . . . encore! encore, mon pere!" the boy slept. the father stood still by the bed for a time, but at last slowly turned and went toward the fire. outside, two figures were approaching the hut--a man and a woman; yet at first glance the man might easily have been taken for a woman, because of the long black robe which he wore, and because his hair fell loose on his shoulders and his face was clean-shaven. "have patience, my daughter," said the man. "do not enter till i call you. but stand close to the door, if you will, and hear all." so saying he raised his hand as in a kind of benediction, passed to the door, and after tapping very softly, opened it, entered, and closed it behind him-not so quickly, however, but that the woman caught a glimpse of the father and the boy. in her eyes there was the divine look of motherhood. "peace be to this house!" said the man gently as he stepped forward from the door. the father, startled, turned shrinkingly on him, as if he had seen a spirit. "m'sieu' le cure!" he said in french, with an accent much poorer than that of the priest, or even of his own son. he had learned french from his wife; he himself was english. the priest's quick eye had taken in the lighted candles at the little shrine, even as he saw the painfully changed aspect of the man. "the wife and child, bagot?" he asked, looking round. "ah, the boy!" he added, and going toward the bed, continued, presently, in a low voice: "dominique is ill?" bagot nodded, and then answered: "a wild-cat and then fever, father corraine." the priest felt the boy's pulse softly, then with a close personal look he spoke hardly above his breath, yet distinctly too: "your wife, bagot?" "she is not here, m'sieu'." the voice was low and gloomy. "where is she, bagot?" "i do not know, m'sieu'." "when did you see her last?" "four weeks ago, m'sieu'." "that was september, this is october--winter. on the ranches they let their cattle loose upon the plains in winter, knowing not where they go, yet looking for them to return in the spring. but a woman--a woman and a wife--is different. . . . bagot, you have been a rough, hard man, and you have been a stranger to your god, but i thought you loved your wife and child!" the hunter's hands clenched, and a wicked light flashed up into his eyes; but the calm, benignant gaze of the other cooled the tempest in his veins. the priest sat down on the couch where the child lay, and took the fevered hand in his very softly. "stay where you are, bagot," he said; "just there where you are, and tell me what your trouble is, and why your wife is not here. . . . say all honestly--by the name of the christ!" he added, lifting up a large iron crucifix that hung on his breast. bagot sat down on a bench near the fireplace, the light playing on his bronzed, powerful face, his eyes shining beneath his heavy brows like two coals. after a moment he began: "i don't know how it started. i'd lost a lot of pelts--stolen they were, down on the child o' sin river. well, she was hasty and nervous, like as not--she always was brisker and more sudden than i am. i--i laid my powder-horn and whisky-flask-up there!" he pointed to the little shrine of the virgin, where now his candles were burning. the priest's grave eyes did not change expression at all, but looked out wisely, as though he understood everything before it was told. bagot continued: "i didn't notice it, but she had put some flowers there. she said something with an edge, her face all snapping angry, threw the things down, and called me a heathen and a wicked heretic--and i don't say now but she'd a right to do it. but i let out then, for them stolen pelts were rasping me on the raw. i said something pretty rough, and made as if i was goin' to break her in two--just fetched up my hands, and went like this!--" with a singular simplicity he made a wild gesture with his hands, and an animal-like snarl came from his throat. then he looked at the priest with the honest intensity of a boy. "yes, that is what you did--what was it you said which was 'pretty rough'?" there was a slight hesitation, then came the reply: "i said there was enough powder spilt on the floor to kill all the priests in heaven." a fire suddenly shot up into father corraine's face, and his lips tightened for an instant, but presently he was as before, and he said: "how that will face you one day, bagot! go on. what else?" sweat began to break out on bagot's face, and he spoke as though he were carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, low and brokenly. "then i said, 'and if virgins has it so fine, why didn't you stay one?'" "blasphemer!" said the priest in a stern, reproachful voice, his face turning a little pale, and he brought the crucifix to his lips. "to the mother of your child--shame! what more?" she threw up her hands to her ears with a wild cry, ran out of the house, down the hills, and away. i went to the door and watched her as long as i could see her, and waited for her to come back--but she never did. "i've hunted and hunted, but i can't find her." then, with a sudden thought, "do you know anything of her, m'sieu'?" the priest appeared not to hear the question. turning for a moment toward the boy who now was in a deep sleep, he looked at him intently. presently he spoke. "ever since i married you and lucette barbond, you have stood in the way of her duty, bagot. how well i remember that first day when you knelt before me! was ever so sweet and good a girl--with her golden eyes and the look of summer in her face, and her heart all pure! nothing had spoiled her--you cannot spoil such women--god is in their hearts. but you, what have you cared? one day you would fondle her, and the next you were a savage--and she, so gentle, so gentle all the time. then, for her religion and the faith of her child--she has fought for it, prayed for it, suffered for it. you thought you had no need, for you had so much happiness, which you did not deserve--that was it. but she: with all a woman suffers, how can she bear life--and man--without god? no, it is not possible. and you thought you and your few superstitions were enough for her.--ah, poor fool! she should worship you! so selfish, so small, for a man who knows in his heart how great god is.--you did not love her." "by the heaven above, yes!" said bagot, half starting to his feet. "ah, 'by the heaven above,' no! nor the child. for true love is unselfish and patient, and where it is the stronger, it cares for the weaker; but it was your wife who was unselfish, patient, and cared for you. every time she said an ave she thought of you, and her every thanks to the good god had you therein. they know you well in heaven, bagot-through your wife. did you ever pray--ever since i married you to her?" "yes." "when?" "an hour or so ago." once again the priest's eyes glanced towards the lighted candles. presently he said: "you asked me if i had heard anything of your wife. listen, and be patient while you listen. . . . three weeks ago i was camping on the sundust plains, over against the young sky river. in the morning, as i was lighting a fire outside my tent, my young cree indian with me, i saw coming over the crest of a land-wave, from the very lips of the sunrise, as it were, a band of indians. i could not quite make them out. i hoisted my little flag on the tent, and they hurried on to me. i did not know the tribe--they had come from near hudson's bay. they spoke chinook, and i could understand them. well, as they came near i saw that they had a woman with them." bagot leaned forward, his body strained, every muscle tense. "a woman?" he said, as if breathing gave him sorrow--"my wife?" "your wife." "quick! quick! go on--oh, go on, m'sieu'--good father." "she fell at my feet, begging me to save her. . . . i waved her off." the sweat dropped from bagot's forehead, a low growl broke from him, and he made such a motion as a lion might make at its prey. "you wouldn't--wouldn't save her--you coward!" he ground the words out. the priest raised his palm against the other's violence. "hush! . . . she drew away, saying that god and man had deserted her. . . . we had breakfast, the chief and i. afterwards, when the chief had eaten much and was in good humour, i asked him where he had got the woman. he said that he had found her on the plains she had lost her way. i told him then that i wanted to buy her. he said to me, 'what does a priest want of a woman?' i said that i wished to give her back to her husband. he said that he had found her, and she was his, and that he would marry her when they reached the great camp of the tribe. i was patient. it would not do to make him angry. i wrote down on a piece of bark the things that i would give him for her: an order on the company at fort o' sin for shot, blankets, and beads. he said no." the priest paused. bagot's face was all swimming with sweat, his body was rigid, but the veins of his neck knotted and twisted. "for the love of god, go on!" he said hoarsely. "yes, 'for the love of god.' i have no money, i am poor, but the company will always honour my orders, for i pay sometimes, by the help of christ. bien, i added some things to the list: a saddle, a rifle, and some flannel. but no, he would not. once more i put many things down. it was a big bill-it would keep me poor for five years.--to save your wife, john bagot, you who drove her from your door, blaspheming, and railing at such as i. . . . i offered the things, and told him that was all that i could give. after a little he shook his head, and said that he must have the woman for his wife. i did not know what to add. i said--'she is white, and the white people will never rest till they have killed you all, if you do this thing. the company will track you down.' then he said, 'the whites must catch me and fight me before they kill me.' . . . what was there to do?" bagot came near to the priest, bending over him savagely. "you let her stay with them--you with hands like a man!" "hush!" was the calm, reproving answer. "i was one man, they were twenty." "where was your god to help you, then?" "her god and mine was with me." bagot's eyes blazed. "why didn't you offer rum--rum? they'd have done it for that--one--five--ten kegs of rum!" he swayed to and fro in his excitement, yet their voices hardly rose above a hoarse whisper all the time. "you forget," answered the priest, "that it is against the law, and that as a priest of my order, i am vowed to give no rum to an indian." "a vow? a vow? name of god! what is a vow beside a woman--my wife?" his misery and his rage were pitiful to see. "perjure my soul? offer rum? break my vow in the face of the enemies of god's church? what have you done for me that i should do this for you, john bagot?" "coward!" was the man's despairing cry, with a sudden threatening movement. "christ himself would have broke a vow to save her." the grave, kind eyes of the priest met the other's fierce gaze, and quieted the wild storm that was about to break. "who am i that i should teach my master?" he said solemnly. "what would you give christ, bagot, if he had saved her to you?" the man shook with grief, and tears rushed from his eyes, so suddenly and fully had a new emotion passed through him. "give--give?" he cried; "i would give twenty years of my life!" the figure of the priest stretched up with a gentle grandeur. holding out the iron crucifix, he said: "on your knees and swear it, john bagot." there was something inspiring, commanding, in the voice and manner, and bagot, with a new hope rushing through his veins, knelt and repeated his words. the priest turned to the door, and called, "madame lucette!" the boy, hearing, waked, and sat up in bed suddenly. "mother! mother!" he cried, as the door flew open. the mother came to her husband's arms, laughing and weeping, and an instant afterwards was pouring out her love and anxiety over her child. father corraine now faced the man, and with a soft exaltation of voice and manner, said: "john bagot, in the name of christ, i demand twenty years of your life-of love and obedience of god. i broke my vow, i perjured my soul, i bought your wife with ten kegs of rum!" the tall hunter dropped again to his knees, and caught the priest's hand to kiss it. "no, no--this!" the priest said, and laid his iron crucifix against the other's lips. dominique's voice came clearly through the room: "mother, i saw the white swan fly away through the door when you came in." "my dear, my dear," she said, "there was no white swan." but she clasped the boy to her breast protectingly, and whispered an ave. "peace be to this house," said the voice of the priest. and there was peace: for the child lived, and the man has loved, and has kept his vow, even unto this day. for the visions of the boy, who can know the divers ways in which god speaks to the children of men? at bamber's boom his trouble came upon him when he was old. to the hour of its coming he had been of shrewd and humourous disposition. he had married late in life, and his wife had died, leaving him one child--a girl. she grew to womanhood, bringing him daily joy. she was beloved in the settlement; and there was no one at bamber's boom, in the valley of the madawaska, but was startled and sorry when it turned out that dugard, the riverboss, was married. he floated away down the river, with his rafts and drives of logs, leaving the girl sick and shamed. they knew she was sick at heart, because she grew pale and silent; they did not know for some months how shamed she was. then it was that mrs. lauder, the sister of the roman catholic missionary, father halen, being a woman of notable character and kindness, visited her and begged her to tell all. though the girl--nora--was a protestant, mrs. lauder did this: but it brought sore grief to her. at first she could hardly bear to look at the girl's face, it was so hopeless, so numb to the world: it had the indifference of despair. rumour now became hateful fact. when the old man was told, he gave one great cry, then sat down, his hands pressed hard between his knees, his body trembling, his eyes staring before him. it was father halen who told him. he did it as man to man, and not as a priest, having travelled fifty miles for the purpose. "george magor," said he, "it's bad, i know, but bear it--with the help of god. and be kind to the girl." the old man answered nothing. "my friend," the priest continued, "i hope you'll forgive me for telling you. i thought 'twould be better from me, than to have it thrown at you in the settlement. we've been friends one way and another, and my heart aches for you, and my prayers go with you." the old man raised his sunken eyes, all their keen humour gone, and spoke as though each word were dug from his heart. "say no more, father halen." then he reached out, caught the priest's hand in his gnarled fingers, and wrung it. the father never spoke a harsh word to the girl. otherwise he seemed to harden into stone. when the protestant missionary came, he would not see him. the child was born before the river-drivers came along again the next year with their rafts and logs. there was a feeling abroad that it would be ill for dugard if he chanced to camp at bamber's boom. the look of the old man's face was ominous, and he was known to have an iron will. dugard was a handsome man, half french, half scotch, swarthy and admirably made. he was proud of his strength, and showily fearless in danger. for there were dangerous hours to the river life: when, for instance, a mass of logs became jammed at a rapids, and must be loosened; or a crib struck into the wrong channel, or, failing to enter a slide straight, came at a nasty angle to it, its timbers wrenched and tore apart, and its crew, with their great oars, were plumped into the busy current. he had been known to stand singly in some perilous spot when one log, the key to the jam, must be shifted to set free the great tumbled pile. he did everything with a dash. the handspike was waved and thrust into the best leverage, the long robust cry, "o-hee-hee-hoi!" rolled over the waters, there was a devil's jumble of logs, and he played a desperate game with them, tossing here, leaping there, balancing elsewhere, till, reaching the smooth rush of logs in the current, he ran across them to the shore as they spun beneath his feet. his gang of river-drivers, with their big drives of logs, came sweeping down one beautiful day of early summer, red-shifted, shouting, goodtempered. it was about this time that pierre came to know magor. it was the old man's duty to keep the booms of several great lumbering companies, and to watch the logs when the river-drivers were engaged elsewhere. occasionally he took a place with the men, helping to make cribs and rafts. dugard worked for one lumber company, magor for others. many in the settlement showed dugard how much he was despised. some warned him that magor had said he would break him into pieces; it seemed possible that dugard might have a bad hour with the people of bamber's boom. dugard, though he swelled and strutted, showed by a furtive eye and a sinister watchfulness that he felt himself in an atmosphere of danger. but he spoke of his wickedness lightly as, "a slip--a little accident, mon ami." pierre said to him one day: "bien, dugard, you are a bold man to come here again. or is it that you think old men are cowards?" dugard, blustering, laid his hand suddenly upon his case-knife. pierre laughed softly, contemptuously, came over, and throwing out his perfectly formed but not robust chest in the fashion of dugard, added: "ho, ho, monsieur the butcher, take your time at that. there is too much blood in your carcass. you have quarrels plenty on your hands without this. come, don't be a fool and a scoundrel too." dugard grinned uneasily, and tried to turn the thing off as a joke, and pierre, who laughed still a little more, said: "it would be amusing to see old magor and dugard fight. it would be--so equal." there was a keen edge to pierre's tones, but dugard dared not resent it. one day magor and dugard must meet. the square-timber of the two companies had got tangled at a certain point, and gangs from both must set them loose. they were camped some distance from each other. there was rivalry between them, and it was hinted that if any trouble came from the meeting of magor and dugard the gangs would pay off old scores with each other. pierre wished to prevent this. it seemed to him that the two men should stand alone in the affair. he said as much here and there to members of both camps, for he was free of both: a tribute to his genius at poker. the girl, nora, was apprehensive--for her father; she hated the other man now. pierre was courteous to her, scrupulous in word and look, and fond of her child. he had always shown a gentleness to children, which seemed little compatible with his character; but for this young outlaw in the world he had something more. he even laboured carefully to turn the girl's father in its favour; but as yet to little purpose. he was thought ful of the girl too. he only went to the house when he knew her father was present, or when she was away. once while he was there, father halen and his sister, mrs. lauder, came. they found pierre with the child, rocking the cradle, and humming as he did so an old song of the coureurs de bois: "out of the hills comes a little white deer, poor little vaurien, o, ci, ci! come to my home, to my home down here, sister and brother and child o' me poor little, poor little vaurien!" pierre was alone, save for the old woman who had cared for the home since nora's trouble came. the priest was anxious lest any harm should come from dugard's presence at bamber's boom. he knew pierre's doubtful reputation, but still he knew he could speak freely and would be answered honestly. "what will happen?" he abruptly asked. "what neither you nor i should try to prevent, m'sieu'," was pierre's reply. "magor will do the man injury?" "what would you have? put the matter on your own hearthstone, eh? . . . pardon, if i say these things bluntly." pierre still lightly rocked the cradle with one foot. "but vengeance is in god's hands." "m'sieu'," said the half-breed, "vengeance also is man's, else why did we ten men from fort cypress track down the indians who murdered your brother, the good priest, and kill them one by one?" father halen caught his sister as she swayed, and helped her to a chair, then turned a sad face on pierre. "were you--were you one of that ten?" he asked, overcome; and he held out his hand. the two river-driving camps joined at mud cat point, where was the crush of great timber. the two men did not at first come face to face, but it was noticed by pierre, who smoked on the bank while the others worked, that the old man watched his enemy closely. the work of undoing the great twist of logs was exciting, and they fell on each other with a great sound as they were pried off, and went sliding, grinding, into the water. at one spot they were piled together, massive and high. these were left to the last. it was here that the two met. old magor's face was quiet, if a little haggard; and his eyes looked out from under his shaggy brows piercingly. dugard's manner was swaggering, and he swore horribly at his gang. presently he stood at a point alone, working at an obstinate log. he was at the foot of an incline of timber, and he was not aware that magor had suddenly appeared at the top of that incline. he heard his name called out sharply. swinging round, he saw magor thrusting a handspike under a huge timber, hanging at the top of the incline. he was standing in a hollow, a kind of trench. he was shaken with fear, for he saw the old man's design. he gave a cry and made as if to jump out of the way, but with a laugh magor threw his whole weight on the handspike, the great timber slid swiftly down and crushed dugard from his thighs to his feet, breaking his legs terribly. the old man called down at him: "a slip--a little accident, mon ami!" then, shouldering his handspike, he made his way through the silent gangs to the shore, and so on homewards. magor had done what he wished. dugard would be a cripple for life; his beauty was all spoiled and broken: there was much to do to save his life. ii nora also about this time took to her bed with fever. again and again pierre rode thirty miles and back to get ice for her head. all were kind to her now. the vengeance upon dugard seemed to have wiped out much of her shame in the eyes of bamber's boom. such is the way of the world. he that has the last blow is in the eye of advantage. when nora began to recover, the child fell ill also. in the sickness of the child the old man had a great temptation--far greater than that concerning dugard. as the mother grew better the child became much worse. one night the doctor came, driving over from another settlement, and said that if the child got sleep till morning it would probably live, for the crisis had come. he left an opiate to procure the sleep, the same that had been given to the mother. if it did not sleep, it would die. pierre was present at this time. all through the child's illness the old man's mind had been tossed to and fro. if the child died, the living stigma would be gone; there would be no reminder of his daughter's shame in the eyes of the world. they could go away from bamber's boom, and begin life again somewhere. but, then, there was the child itself which had crept into his heart,--he knew not how, and would not be driven out. he had never, till it was taken ill, even touched it, nor spoken to it. to destroy its life!--well, would it not be better for the child to go out of all possible shame, into peace, the peace of the grave? this night he sat down beside the cradle, holding the bottle of medicine and a spoon in his hand. the hot, painful face of the child fascinated him. he looked from it to the bottle, and back, then again to the bottle. he started, and the sweat stood out on his forehead. for though the doctor had told him in words the proper dose, he had by mistake written on the label the same dose as for the mother! here was the responsibility shifted in any case. more than once the old man uncorked the bottle, and once he dropped out the opiate in the spoon steadily; but the child opened its suffering eyes at him, its little wasted hand wandered over the coverlet, and he could not do it just then. but again the passion for its destruction came on him, because he heard his daughter moaning in the other room. he said to himself that she would be happier when it was gone. but as he stooped over the cradle, no longer hesitating, the door softly opened, and pierre entered. the old man shuddered, and drew back from the cradle. pierre saw the look of guilt in the old man's face, and his instinct told him what was happening. he took the bottle from the trembling hand, and looked at the label. "what is the proper dose?" he asked, seeing that a mistake had been made by the doctor. in a hoarse whisper magor told him. "it may be too late," pierre added. he knelt down, with light fingers opened the child's mouth, and poured the medicine in slowly. the old man stood for a time rigid, looking at them both. then he came round to the other side of the cradle, and seated himself beside it, his eyes fixed on the child's face. for a long time they sat there. at last the old man said: "will he die, pierre?" "i am afraid so," answered pierre painfully. "but we shall see." then early teaching came to him, never to be entirely obliterated, and he added: "has the child been baptised?" the old man shook his head. "'will you do it?" asked pierre hesitatingly. "i can't--i can't," was the reply. pierre smiled a little ironically, as if at himself, got some water in a cup, came over, and said: "remember, i'm a papist!" a motion of the hand answered him. he dipped his fingers in the water, and dropped it ever so lightly on the child's forehead. "george magor,"--it was the old man's name,--"i baptise thee in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy ghost. amen." then he drew the sign of the cross on the infant's forehead. sitting down, he watched beside the child. after a little he heard a long choking sigh. looking up, he saw tears slowly dropping from magor's eyes. and to this day the child and the mother of the child are dear to the old man's heart. etext editor's bookmarks: bad turns good sometimes, when you know the how how can you judge the facts if you don't know the feeling? put the matter on your own hearthstone this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] northern lights by gilbert parker volume 5. the error of the day the whisperer as deep as the sea the error of the day the "error of the day" may be defined as "the difference between the distance or range which must be put upon the sights in order to hit the target and the actual distance from the gun to the target."--admiralty note. a great naval gun never fires twice alike. it varies from day to day, and expert allowance has to be made in sighting every time it is fired. variations in atmosphere, condition of ammunition, and the wear of the gun are the contributory causes to the ever-varying "error of the day." ......................... "say, ain't he pretty?" "a jim-dandy-oh, my!" "what's his price in the open market?" "thirty millions-i think not." then was heard the voice of billy goat--his name was william goatry "out in the cold world, out in the street; nothing to wear, and nothing to eat, fatherless, motherless, sadly i roam, child of misfortune, i'm driven from home." a loud laugh followed, for billy goat was a popular person at kowatin in the saskatchewan country. he had an inimitable drollery, heightened by a cast in his eye, a very large mouth, and a round, good-humoured face; also he had a hand and arm like iron, and was altogether a great man on a "spree." there had been a two days' spree at kowatin, for no other reason than that there had been great excitement over the capture and the subsequent escape of a prairie-rover, who had robbed the contractor's money-chest at the rail-head on the canadian pacific railroad. forty miles from kowatin he had been caught by, and escaped from, the tall, brown-eyed man with the hard-bitten face who leaned against the open window of the tavern, looking indifferently at the jeering crowd before him. for a police officer he was not unpopular with them, but he had been a failure for once, and, as billy goat had said: "it tickled us to death to see a rider of the plains off his trolley--on the cold, cold ground, same as you and me." they did not undervalue him. if he had been less a man than he was, they would not have taken the trouble to cover him with their drunken ribaldry. he had scored off them in the past in just such sprees as this, when he had the power to do so, and used the power good-naturedly and quietly--but used it. then, he was sergeant foyle of the royal north-west mounted police, on duty in a district as large as the united kingdom. and he had no greater admirer than billy goat, who now reviled him. not without cause, in a way, for he had reviled himself to this extent, that when the prairierover, halbeck, escaped on the way to prince albert, after six months' hunt for him and a final capture in the kowatin district, foyle resigned the force before the commissioner could reproach him or call him to account. usually so exact, so certain of his target, some care had not been taken, he had miscalculated, and there had been the error of the day. whatever it was, it had seemed to him fatal; and he had turned his face from the barrack yard. then he had made his way to the happy land hotel at kowatin, to begin life as "a free and independent gent on the loose," as billy goat had said. to resign had seemed extreme; because, though the commissioner was vexed at halbeck's escape, foyle was the best non-commissioned officer in the force. he had frightened horse thieves and bogus land-agents and speculators out of the country; had fearlessly tracked down a criminal or a band of criminals when the odds were heavy against him. he carried on his cheek the scars of two bullets, and there was one white lock in his brown hair, where an arrow had torn the scalp away as, alone, he drove into the post a score of indians, fresh from raiding the cattle of an immigrant trailing north. now he was out of work, or so it seemed; he had stepped down from his scarlet-coated dignity, from the place of guardian and guide of civilisation, into the idleness of a tavern stoop. as the little group swayed round him, and billy goat started another song, foyle roused himself as though to move away--he was waiting for the mail-stage to take him south: "oh, father, dear father, come home with me now, the clock in the steeple strikes one; you said you were coming right home from the shop as soon as your day's work was done. come home--come home--" the song arrested him, and he leaned back against the window again. a curious look came into his eyes, a look that had nothing to do with the acts of the people before him. it was searching into a scene beyond this bright sunlight and the far green-brown grass, and the little oasis of trees in the distance marking a homestead and the dust of the wagonwheels, out on the trail beyond the grain-elevator-beyond the blue horizon's rim, quivering in the heat, and into regions where this crisp, clear, life-giving, life-saving air never blew. "you said you were coming right home from the shop as soon as your day's work was done. come home--come home--" he remembered when he had first heard this song in a play called 'ten nights in a bar-room', many years before, and how it had wrenched his heart and soul, and covered him with a sudden cloud of shame and anger. for his father had been a drunkard, and his brother had grown up a drunkard, that brother whom he had not seen for ten years until--until-he shuddered, closed his eyes, as though to shut out something that the mind saw. he had had a rough life, he had become inured to the seamy side of things--there was a seamy side even in this clean, free, wide land; and he had no sentimentality; though something seemed to hurt and shame him now. "as soon as your day's work was done. come home--come home--" the crowd was uproarious. the exhilaration had become a kind of delirium. men were losing their heads; there was an element of irresponsibility in the new outbreak likely to breed some violent act, which every man of them would lament when sober again. nettlewood foyle watched the dust rising from the wheels of the stage, which had passed the elevator and was nearing the prairie home hotel far down the street. he would soon leave behind him this noisy ribaldry of which he was the centre. he tossed his cheroot away. suddenly he heard a low voice behind him. "why don't you hit out, sergeant?" it said. he started almost violently, and turned round. then his face flushed, his eyes blurred with feeling and deep surprise, and his lips parted in a whispered exclamation and greeting. a girl's face from the shade of the sitting-room was looking out at him, half-smiling, but with heightened colour and a suppressed agitation. the girl was not more than twenty-five, graceful, supple, and strong. her chin was dimpled; across her right temple was a slight scar. she had eyes of a wonderful deep blue; they seemed to swim with light. as foyle gazed at her for a moment dumfounded, with a quizzical suggestion and smiling still a little more, she said: "you used to be a little quicker, nett." the voice appeared to attempt unconcern; but it quivered from a force of feeling underneath. it was so long since she had seen him. he was about to reply, but, at the instant, a reveller pushed him with a foot behind the knees so that they were sprung forward. the crowd laughed--all save billy goat, who knew his man. like lightning, and with cold fury in his eyes, foyle caught the tall cattleman by the forearm, and, with a swift, dexterous twist, had the fellow in his power. "down--down, to your knees, you skunk," he said in a low, fierce voice. the knees of the big man bent,--foyle had not taken lessons of ogami, the jap, for nothing--they bent, and the cattleman squealed, so intense was the pain. it was break or bend; and he bent--to the ground and lay there. foyle stood over him for a moment, a hard light in his eyes, and then, as if bethinking himself, he looked at the other roisterers, and said: "there's a limit, and he reached it. your mouths are your own, and you can blow off to suit your fancy, but if any one thinks i'm a tame coyote to be poked with a stick--!" he broke off, stooped over, and helped the man before him to his feet. the arm had been strained, and the big fellow nursed it. "hell, but you're a twister!" the cattleman said with a grimace of pain. billy goat was a gentleman, after his kind, and he liked sergeant foyle with a great liking. he turned to the crowd and spoke. "say, boys, this mine's worked out. let's leave the happy land to foyle. boys, what is he--what--is he? what--is--sergeant foyle--boys?" the roar of the song they all knew came in reply, as billy goat waved his arms about like the wild leader of a wild orchestra: "sergeant foyle, oh, he's a knocker from the west, he's a chase-me-charley, come-and-kiss-me tiger from the zoo; he's a dandy on the pinch, and he's got a double cinch on the gent that's going careless, and he'll soon cinch you: and he'll soon--and he'll soon--cinch you!" foyle watched them go, dancing, stumbling, calling back at him, as they moved towards the prairie home hotel: "and he'll soon-and he'll soon-cinch you!" his under lip came out, his eyes half-closed, as he watched them. "i've done my last cinch. i've done my last cinch," he murmured. then, suddenly, the look in his face changed, the eyes swam as they had done a minute before at the sight of the girl in the room behind. whatever his trouble was, that face had obscured it in a flash, and the pools of feeling far down in the depths of a lonely nature had been stirred. recognition, memory, tenderness, desire swam in his face, made generous and kind the hard lines of the strong mouth. in an instant he had swung himself over the window-sill. the girl had drawn away now into a more shaded corner of the room, and she regarded him with a mingled anxiety and eagerness. was she afraid of something? did she fear that --she knew not quite what, but it had to do with a long ago. "it was time you hit out, nett," she said, half shyly. "you're more patient than you used to be, but you're surer. my, that was a twist you gave him, nett. aren't you glad to see me?" she added hastily, and with an effort to hide her agitation. he reached out and took her hand with a strange shyness, and a selfconsciousness which was alien to his nature. the touch of her hand thrilled him. their eyes met. she dropped hers. then he gathered him self together. "glad to see you? of course, of course, i'm glad. you stunned me, jo. why, do you know where you are? you're a thousand miles from home. i can't get it through my head, not really. what brings you here? it's ten years--ten years since i saw you, and you were only fifteen, but a fifteen that was as good as twenty." he scanned her face closely. "what's that scar on your forehead, jo? you hadn't that--then." "i ran up against something," she said evasively, her eyes glittering, "and it left that scar. does it look so bad?" "no, you'd never notice it, if you weren't looking close as i am. you see, i knew your face so well ten years ago." he shook his head with a forced kind of smile. it became him, however, for he smiled rarely; and the smile was like a lantern turned on his face; it gave light and warmth to its quiet strength-or hardness. "you were always quizzing," she said with an attempt at a laugh--"always trying to find out things. that's why you made them reckon with you out here. you always could see behind things; always would have your own way; always were meant to be a success." she was beginning to get control of herself again, was trying hard to keep things on the surface. "you were meant to succeed--you had to," she added. "i've been a failure--a dead failure," he answered slowly. "so they say. so they said. you heard them, jo." he jerked his head towards the open window. "oh, those drunken fools!" she exclaimed indignantly, and her face hardened. "how i hate drink! it spoils everything." there was silence for a moment. they were both thinking of the same thing--of the same man. he repeated a question. "what brings you out here, jo?" he asked gently. "dorland," she answered, her face setting into determination and anxiety. his face became pinched. "dorl!" he said heavily. "what for, jo? what do you want with dorl?" "when cynthy died she left her five hundred dollars a year to the baby, and--" "yes, yes, i know. well, jo?" "well, it was all right for five years--dorland paid it in; but for five years he hasn't paid anything. he's taken it, stolen it from his own child by his own honest wife. i've come to get it--anyway, to stop him from doing it any more. his own child--it puts murder in my heart, nett! i could kill him." he nodded grimly. "that's likely. and you've kept, dorl's child with your own money all these years?" "i've got four hundred dollars a year, nett, you know; and i've been dressmaking--they say i've got taste," she added, with a whimsical smile. nett nodded his head. "five years. that's twenty-five hundred dollars he's stolen from his own child. it's eight years old now, isn't it?" "bobby is eight and a half," she answered. "and his schooling, and his clothing, and everything; and you have to pay for it all?" "oh, i don't mind, nett, it isn't that. bobby is cynthy's child; and i love him--love him; but i want him to have his rights. dorl must give up his hold on that money--or--" he nodded gravely. "or you'll set the law on him?" "it's one thing or the other. better to do it now when bobby is young and can't understand." "or read the newspapers," he commented thoughtfully. "i don't think i've a hard heart," she continued, "but i'd like to punish him, if it wasn't that he's your brother, nett; and if it wasn't for bobby. dorland was dreadfully cruel, even to cynthy." "how did you know he was up here?" he asked. "from the lawyer that pays over the money. dorland has had it sent out here to kowatin this two years. and he sent word to the lawyer a month ago that he wanted it to get here as usual. the letter left the same day as i did, and it got here yesterday with me, i suppose. he'll be after it-perhaps to-day. he wouldn't let it wait long, dorl wouldn't." foyle started. "to-day--to-day--" there was a gleam in his eyes, a setting of the lips, a line sinking into the forehead between the eyes. "i've been watching for him all day, and i'll watch till he comes. i'm going to say some things to him that he won't forget. i'm going to get bobby's money, or have the law do it--unless you think i'm a brute, nett." she looked at him wistfully. "that's all right. don't worry about me, jo. he's my brother, but i know him--i know him through and through. he's done everything that a man can do and not be hanged. a thief, a drunkard, and a brute--and he killed a man out here," he added hoarsely. "i found it out myself-myself. it was murder." suddenly, as he looked at her, an idea seemed to flash into his mind. he came very near and looked at her closely. then he reached over and almost touched the scar on her forehead. "did he do that, jo?" for an instant she was silent and looked down at the floor. presently she raised her eyes, her face suffused. once or twice she tried to speak, but failed. at last she gained courage and said: "after cynthy's death i kept house for him for a year, taking care of little bobby. i loved bobby so--he has cynthy's eyes. one day dorland --oh, nett, of course i oughtn't to have stayed there, i know it now; but i was only sixteen, and what did i understand! and my mother was dead. one day--oh, please, nett, you can guess. he said something to me. i made him leave the house. before i could make plans what to do, he came back mad with drink. i went for bobby, to get out of the house, but he caught hold of me. i struck him in the face, and he threw me against the edge of the open door. it made the scar." foyle's face was white. "why did you never write and tell me that, jo? you know that i--" he stopped suddenly. "you had gone out of our lives down there. i didn't know where you were for a long time; and then--then it was all right about bobby and me, except that bobby didn't get the money that was his. but now--" foyle's voice was hoarse and low. "he made that scar, and he--and you only sixteen--oh, my god!" suddenly his face reddened, and he choked with shame and anger. "and he's my brother!" was all that he could say. "do you see him up here ever?" she asked pityingly. "i never saw him till a week ago." a moment, then he added: "the letter wasn't to be sent here in his own name, was it?" she nodded. "yes, in his own name, dorland w. foyle. didn't he go by that name when you saw him?" there was an oppressive silence, in which she saw that something moved him strangely, and then he answered: "no, he was going by the name of halbeck--hiram halbeck." the girl gasped. then the whole thing burst upon her. "hiram halbeck! hiram halbeck, the thief--i read it all in the papers--the thief that you caught, and that got away. and you've left the mounted police because of it--oh, nett!" her eyes were full of tears, her face was drawn and grey. he nodded. "i didn't know who he was till i arrested him," he said. "then, afterward, i thought of his child, and let him get away; and for my poor old mother's sake. she never knew how bad he was even as a boy. but i remember how he used to steal and drink the brandy from her bedside, when she had the fever. she never knew the worst of him. but i let him away in the night, jo, and i resigned, and they thought that halbeck had beaten me, had escaped. of course i couldn't stay in the force, having done that. but, by the heaven above us, if i had him here now, i'd do the thing--do it, so help me god!" "why should you ruin your life for him?" she said, with an outburst of indignation. all that was in her heart welled up in her eyes at the thought of what foyle was. "you must not do it. you shall not do it. he must pay for his wickedness, not you. it would be a sin. you and what becomes of you mean so much." suddenly with a flash of purpose she added: "he will come for that letter, nett. he would run any kind of risk to get a dollar. he will come here for that letter--perhaps today." he shook his head moodily, oppressed by the trouble that was on him. "he's not likely to venture here, after what's happened." "you don't know him as well as i do, nett. he is so vain he'd do it, just to show that he could. he'd' probably come in the evening. does any one know him here? so many people pass through kowatin every day. has any one seen him?" "only billy goatry," he answered, working his way to a solution of the dark problem. "only billy goatry knows him. the fellow that led the singing--that was goatry." "there he is now," he added, as billy goat passed the window. she came and laid a hand on his arm. "we've got to settle things with him," she said. "if dorl comes, nett--" there was silence for a moment, then he caught her hand in his and held it. "if he comes, leave him to me, jo. you will leave him to me?" he added anxiously. "yes," she answered. "you'll do what's right-by bobby?" "and by dorl, too," he replied strangely. there were loud footsteps without. "it's goatry," said foyle. "you stay here. i'll tell him everything. he's all right; he's a true friend. he'll not interfere." the handle of the door turned slowly. "you keep watch on the postoffice, jo," he added. goatry came round the opening door with a grin. "hope i don't intrude," he said, stealing a half-leering look at the girl. as soon as he saw her face, however, he straightened himself up and took on different manners. he had not been so intoxicated as he had made, out, and he seemed only "mellow" as he stood before them, with his corrugated face and queer, quaint look, the eye with the cast in it blinking faster than the. other. "it's all right, goatry," said foyle. "this lady is, one of my family from the east." "goin' on by stage?" goatry said vaguely, as they shook hands. she did not reply, for she was looking down the street, and presently she started as she gazed. she laid a hand suddenly on foyle's arm. "see--he's come," she said in a whisper, and as though not realising goatry's presence. "he's come." goatry looked as well as foyle. "halbeck--the devil!" he said. foyle turned to him. "stand by, goatry. i want you to keep a shut mouth. i've work to do." goatry held out his hand. "i'm with you. if you get him this time, clamp him, clamp him like a tooth in a harrow." halbeck had stopped his horse at the post-office door. dismounting he looked quickly round, then drew the reins over the horse's head, letting them trail, as is the custom of the west. a few swift words passed between goatry and foyle. "i'll do this myself, jo," he whispered to the girl presently. "go into another room. i'll bring him here." in another minute goatry was leading the horse away from the post-office, while foyle stood waiting quietly at the door. the departing footsteps of the horse brought halbeck swiftly to the doorway, with a letter in his hand. "hi, there, you damned sucker!" he called after goatry, and then saw foyle waiting. "what the hell--!" he said fiercely, his hand on something in his hip pocket. "keep quiet, dorl. i want to have a little talk with you. take your hand away from that gun--take it away," he added with a meaning not to be misunderstood. halbeck knew that one shout would have the town on him, and he did not know what card his brother was going to play. he let his arm drop to his side. "what's your game? what do you want?" he asked surlily. "come over to the happy land hotel," foyle answered, and in the light of what was in his mind his words had a grim irony. with a snarl halbeck stepped out. goatry, who had handed the horse over to the hostler, watched them coming. "why did i never notice the likeness before?" goatry said to himself. "but, gosh! what a difference in the men. foyle's going to double cinch him this time, i guess." he followed them inside the hall of the happy land. when they stepped into the sitting-room, he stood at the door waiting. the hotel was entirely empty, the roisterers at the prairie home having drawn off the idlers and spectators. the barman was nodding behind the bar, the proprietor was moving about in the backyard inspecting a horse. there was a cheerful warmth everywhere, the air was like an elixir, the pungent smell of a pine-tree at the door gave a kind of medicament to the indrawn breath. and to billy goat, who sometimes sang in the choir of a church not a hundred miles away--for people agreed to forget his occasional sprees--there came, he knew not why, the words of a hymn he had sung only the preceding sunday: "as pants the hart for cooling streams, when heated in the chase--" the words kept ringing in his ears as he listened to the conversation inside the room--the partition was thin, the door thinner, and he heard much. foyle had asked him not to intervene, but only to stand by and await the issue of this final conference. he meant, however, to take a hand in, if he thought he was needed, and he kept his ear glued to the door. if he thought foyle needed him--his fingers were on the handle of the door. "now, hurry up! what do you want with me?" asked halbeck of his brother. "take your time," said ex-sergeant foyle, as he drew the blind threequarters down, so that they could not be seen from the street. "i'm in a hurry, i tell you. i've got my plans. i'm going south. i've only just time to catch the canadian pacific three days from now, riding hard." "you're not going south, dorl." "where am i going, then?" was the sneering reply. "not farther than the happy land." "what the devil's all this? you don't mean you're trying to arrest me again, after letting me go?" "you don't need to ask. you're my prisoner. you're my prisoner," he said in a louder voice--" until you free yourself." "i'll do that damn quick, then," said the other, his hand flying to his hip. "sit down," was the sharp rejoinder, and a pistol was in his face before he could draw his own weapon. "put your gun on the table," foyle said quietly. halbeck did so. there was no other way. foyle drew it over to himself. his brother made a motion to rise. "sit still, dorl," came the warning voice. white with rage, the freebooter sat still, his dissipated face and heavy angry lips looking like a debauched and villainous caricature of his brother before him. "yes, i suppose you'd have potted me, dorl," said the ex-sergeant. "you'd have thought no more of doing that than you did of killing linley, the ranchman; than you did of trying to ruin jo byndon, your wife's sister, when she was sixteen years old, when she was caring for your child--giving her life for the child you brought into the world." "what in the name of hell--it's a lie!" "don't bluster. i know the truth." "who told you-the truth?" "she did--to-day--an hour ago." "she here--out here?" there was a new cowed note in the voice. "she is in the next room." "what did she come here for?" "to make you do right by your own child. i wonder what a jury of decent men would think about a man who robbed his child for five years, and let that child be fed and clothed and cared for by the girl he tried to destroy, the girl he taught what sin there was in the world." "she put you up to this. she was always in love with you, and you know it." there was a dangerous look in foyle's eyes, and his jaw set hard. "there would be no shame in a decent woman caring for me, even if it was true. i haven't put myself outside the boundary as you have. you're my brother, but you're the worst scoundrel in the country--the worst unhanged. put on the table there the letter in your pocket. it holds five hundred dollars belonging to your child. there's twenty-five hundred dollars more to be accounted for." the other hesitated, then with an oath threw the letter on the table. "i'll pay the rest as soon as i can, if you'll stop this damned tomfoolery," he said sullenly, for he saw that he was in a hole. "you'll pay it, i suppose, out of what you stole from the c.p.r. contractor's chest. no, i don't think that will do." "you want me to go to prison, then?" "i think not. the truth would come out at the trial--the whole truth-the murder, and all. there's your child bobby. you've done him enough wrong already. do you want him--but it doesn't matter whether you do or not--do you want him to carry through life the fact that his father was a jail-bird and a murderer, just as jo byndon carries the scar you made when you threw her against the door?" "what do you want with me, then?" the man sank slowly and heavily back into the chair. "there is a way--have you never thought of it? when you threatened others as you did me, and life seemed such a little thing in others --can't you think?" bewildered, the man looked around helplessly. in the silence which followed foyle's words his brain was struggling to see a way out. foyle's further words seemed to come from a great distance. "it's not too late to do the decent thing. you'll never repent of all you've done; you'll never do different." the old reckless, irresponsible spirit revived in the man; he had both courage and bravado, he was not hopeless yet of finding an escape from the net. he would not beg, he would struggle. "i've lived as i meant to, and i'm not going to snivel or repent now. it's all a rotten business, anyhow," he rejoined. with a sudden resolution the ex-sergeant put his own pistol in his pocket, then pushed halbeck's pistol over towards him on the table. halbeck's eyes lighted eagerly, grew red with excitement, then a change passed over them. they now settled on the pistol, and stayed. he heard foyle's voice. "it's with you to do what you ought to do. of course you can kill me. my pistol's in my pocket. but i don't think you will. you've murdered one man. you won't load your soul up with another. besides, if you kill me, you will never get away from kowatin alive. but it's with you--take your choice. it's me or you." halbeck's fingers crept out and found the pistol. "do your duty, dorl," said the ex-sergeant as he turned his back on his brother. the door of the room opened, and goatry stepped inside softly. he had work to do, if need be, and his face showed it. halbeck did not see him. there was a demon in halbeck's eyes, as his brother stood, his back turned, taking his chances. a large mirror hung on the wall opposite halbeck. goatry was watching halbeck's face in the glass, and saw the danger. he measured his distance. all at once halbeck caught goatry's face in the mirror. the dark devilry faded out of his eyes. his lips moved in a whispered oath. every way was blocked. with a sudden wild resolution he raised the pistol to his head. it cracked, and he fell back heavily in the chair. there was a red trickle at the temple. he had chosen the best way out. "he had the pluck," said goatry, as foyle swung round with a face of misery. a moment afterward came a rush of people. goatry kept them back. "sergeant foyle arrested halbeck, and halbeck's shot himself," goatry explained to them. a white-faced girl with a scar on her temple made her way into the room. "come away-come away, jo," said the voice of the man she loved; and he did not let her see the lifeless figure in the chair. three days later the plains swallowed them, as they made their way with billy goatry to the headquarters of the riders of the plains, where sergeant foyle was asked to reconsider his resignation: which he did. the whisperer "and thou shalt be brought down and shalt speak out of the ground, and thy speech shall be low out of the dust, and thy voice shall be as of one that hath a familiar spirit out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the dust." the harvest was all in, and, as far as eye could observe nothing remained of the golden sea of wheat which had covered the wide prairie save the yellow stubble, the bed of an ocean of wealth which had been gathered. here, the yellow level was broken by a dark patch of fallow land, there, by a covert of trees also tinged with yellow, or deepening to crimson and mauve--the harbinger of autumn. the sun had not the insistent and intensive strength of more southerly climes; it was buoyant, confident and heartening, and it shone in a turquoise vault which covered and endeared the wide, even world beneath. now and then a flock of wild ducks whirred past, making for the marshes or the innumerable lakes that vitalised the expanse, or buzzards hunched heavily along, frightened from some far resort by eager sportsmen. that was above; but beneath, on a level with the unlifted eye, were houses here and there, looking in the vastness like dolls' habitations. many of the houses stood blank and staring in the expanse, but some had trees, and others little oases of green. everywhere prosperity, everywhere the strings of life pulled taut, signs that energy had been straining on the leash. yet there was one spot where it seemed that deadness made encampment. it could not be seen in the sweep of the eye, you must have travelled and looked vigilantly to find it; but it was there--a lake shimmering in the eager sun, washing against a reedy shore, a little river running into the reedy lake at one end and out at, the other, a small, dilapidated house half hid in a wood that stretched for half a mile or so upon a rising ground. in front of the house, not far from the lake, a man was lying asleep upon the ground, a rough felt hat drawn over his eyes. like the house, the man seemed dilapidated also: a slovenly, ill-dressed, demoralised figure he looked, even with his face covered. he seemed in a deep sleep. wild ducks settled on the lake not far from him with a swish and flutter; a coyote ran past, veering as it saw the recumbent figure; a prairie hen rustled by with a shrill cluck, but he seemed oblivious to all. if asleep, he was evidently dreaming, for now and then he started, or his body twitched, and a muttering came from beneath the hat. the battered house, the absence of barn or stable or garden, or any token of thrift or energy, marked the man as an excrescence in this theatre of hope and fruitful toil. it all belonged to some degenerate land, some exhausted civilisation, not to this field of vigour where life rang like silver. so the man lay for hour upon hour. he slept as though he had been upon a long journey in which the body was worn to helplessness. or was it that sleep of the worn-out spirit which, tortured by remembrance and remorse, at last sinks into the depths where the conscious vexes the unconscious --a little of fire, a little of ice, and now and then the turn of the screw? the day marched nobly on towards evening, growing out of its blue and silver into a pervasive golden gleam; the bare, greyish houses on the prairie were transformed into miniature palaces of light. presently a girl came out of the woods behind, looking at the neglected house with a half-pitying curiosity. she carried in one hand a fishing rod which had been telescoped till it was no bigger than a cane; in the other she carried a small fishing basket. her father's shooting and fishing camp was a few miles away by a lake of greater size than this which she approached. she had tired of the gay company in camp, brought up for sport from beyond the american border where she also belonged, and she had come to explore the river running into this reedy lake. she turned from the house and came nearer to the lake, shaking her head, as though compassionating the poor, folk who lived there. she was beautiful. her hair was brown, going to tawny, but in this soft light which enwrapped her, she was in a sort of topaz flame. as she came on, suddenly she stopped as though transfixed. she saw the man--and saw also a tragedy afoot. the man stirred violently in his sleep, cried out, and started up. as he did so, a snake, disturbed in its travel past him, suddenly raised itself in anger. startled out of sleep by some inner torture, the man heard the sinister rattle he knew so well, and gazed paralysed. the girl had been but a few feet away when she first saw the man and his angry foe. an instant, then, with the instinct of the woods and the plains, and the courage that has habitation everywhere, dropping her basket she sprang forward noiselessly. the short, telescoped fishing rod she carried swung round her head and completed its next half-circle at the head of the reptile, even as it was about to strike. the blow was sure, and with half-severed head the snake fell dead upon the ground beside the man. he was like one who has been projected from one world to another, dazed, stricken, fearful. presently the look of agonised dismay gave way to such an expression of relief as might come upon the face of a reprieved victim about to be given to the fire, or to the knife that flays. the place of dreams from which he had emerged was like hell, and this was some world of peace that he had not known these many years. always one had been at his elbow--"a familiar spirit out of the ground"--whispering in his ear. he had been down in the abysses of life. he glanced again at the girl, and realised what she had done: she had saved his life. whether it had been worth saving was another question; but he had been near to the brink, had looked in, and the animal in him had shrunk back from the precipice in a confused agony of fear. he staggered to his feet. "where do you come from?" he said, pulling his coat closer to hide the ragged waistcoat underneath, and adjusting his worn and dirty hat--in his youth he had been vain and ambitious and good-looking also. he asked his question in no impertinent tone, but in the low voice of one who "shall whisper out of the dust." he had not yet recovered from the first impression of his awakening, that the world in which he now stood was not a real world. she understood, and half in pity and half in conquered repugnance said: "i come from a camp beyond"--she indicated the direction by a gesture. "i had been fishing"--she took up the basket--"and chanced on you--then." she glanced at the snake significantly. "you killed it in the nick of time," he said, in a voice that still spoke of the ground, but with a note of half-shamed gratitude. "i want to thank you," he added. "you were brave. it would have turned on you if you had missed. i know them. i've killed five." he spoke very slowly, huskily. "well, you are safe--that is the chief thing," she rejoined, making as though to depart. but presently she turned back. "why are you so dreadfully poor--and everything?" she asked gently. his eye wandered over the lake and back again before he answered her, in a dull, heavy tone: "i've had bad luck, and, when you get down, there are plenty to kick you farther." "you weren't always poor as you are now--i mean long ago, when you were young." "i'm not so old," he rejoined sluggishly--"only thirty-four." she could not suppress her astonishment. she looked at the hair already grey, the hard, pinched face, the lustreless eyes. "yet it must seem long to you," she said with meaning. now he laughed --a laugh sodden and mirthless. he was thinking of his boyhood. everything, save one or two spots all fire or all darkness, was dim in his debilitated mind. "too far to go back," he said, with a gleam of the intelligence which had been strong in him once. she caught the gleam. she had wisdom beyond her years. it was the greater because her mother was dead, and she had had so much wealth to dispense, for her father was rich beyond counting, and she controlled his household, and helped to regulate his charities. she saw that he was not of the labouring classes, that he had known better days; his speech, if abrupt and cheerless, was grammatical. "if you cannot go back, you can go forwards," she said firmly. "why should you be the only man in this beautiful land who lives like this, who is idle when there is so much to do, who sleeps in the daytime when there is so much time to sleep at night?" a faint flush came on the greyish, colourless face. "i don't sleep at night," he returned moodily. "why don't you sleep?" she asked. he did not answer, but stirred the body of the snake with his foot. the tail moved; he stamped upon the head with almost frenzied violence, out of keeping with his sluggishness. she turned away, yet looked back once more--she felt tragedy around her. "it is never too late to mend," she said, and moved on, but stopped; for a young man came running from the woods towards her. "i've had a hunt--such a hunt for you," the young man said eagerly, then stopped short when he saw to whom she had been talking. a look of disgust came upon his face as he drew her away, his hand on her arm. "in heaven's name, why did you talk to that man?" he said. "you ought not to have trusted yourself near him." "what has he done?" she asked. "is he so bad?" "i've heard about him. i inquired the other day. he was once in a better position as a ranchman--ten years ago; but he came into some money one day, and he changed at once. he never had a good character; even before he got his money he used to gamble, and was getting a bad name. afterwards he began drinking, and he took to gambling harder than ever. presently his money all went and he had to work; but his bad habits had fastened on him, and now he lives from hand to mouth, sometimes working for a month, sometimes idle for months. there's something sinister about him, there's some mystery; for poverty or drink even--and he doesn't drink much now--couldn't make him what he is. he doesn't seek company, and he walks sometimes endless miles talking to himself, going as hard as he can. how did you come to speak to him, grace?" she told him all, with a curious abstraction in her voice, for she was thinking of the man from a standpoint which her companion could not realise. she was also trying to verify something in her memory. ten years ago, so her lover had just said, the poor wretch behind them had been a different man; and there had shot into her mind the face of a ranchman she had seen with her father, the railway king, one evening when his "special" had stopped at a railway station on his tour through montana--ten years ago. why did the face of the ranchman which had fixed itself on her memory then, because he had come on the evening of her birthday and had spoiled it for her, having taken her father away from her for an hour--why did his face come to her now? what had it to do with the face of this outcast she had just left? "what is his name?" she asked at last. "roger lygon," he answered. "roger lygon," she repeated mechanically. something in the man chained her thought--his face that moment when her hand saved him and the awful fear left him, and a glimmer of light came into his eyes. but her lover beside her broke into song. he was happy with her. everything was before him, her beauty, her wealth, herself. he could not dwell upon dismal things; his voice rang out on the sharp sweet evening air: "'oh, where did you get them, the bonny, bonny roses that blossom in your cheeks, and the morning in your eyes?' 'i got them on the north trail, the road that never closes, that widens to the seven gold gates of paradise.' 'o come, let us camp in the north trail together, with the night-fires lit and the tent-pegs down.'" left alone, the man by the reedy lake stood watching them until they were out of view. the song came back to him, echoing across the waters: "o come, let us camp on the north trail together, with the night-fires lit and the tent-pegs down." the sunset glow, the girl's presence, had given him a moment's illusion, had absorbed him for a moment, acting on his deadened nature like a narcotic at once soothing and stimulating. as some wild animal in a forgotten land, coming upon ruins of a vast civilisation, towers, temples, and palaces, in the golden glow of an eastern evening, stands abashed and vaguely wondering, having neither reason to understand, nor feeling to enjoy, yet is arrested and abashed, so he stood. he had lived the last three years so much alone, had been cut off so completely from his kind--had lived so much alone. yet to-night, at last, he would not be alone. some one was coming to-night, some one whom he had not seen for a long time. letters had passed, the object of the visit had been defined, and he had spent the intervening days since the last letter had arrived, now agitated, now apathetic and sullen, now struggling with some invisible being that kept whispering in his ear, saying to him, "it was the price of fire, and blood, and shame. you did it--you--you--you! you are down, and you will never get up. you can only go lower still--fire, and blood, and shame!" criminal as he was he had never become hardened, he had only become degraded. crime was not his vocation. he had no gift for it; still the crime he had committed had never been discovered--the crime that he did with others. there were himself and dupont and another. dupont was coming to-night--dupont who had profited by the crime, and had not spent his profits, but had built upon them to further profit; for dupont was avaricious and prudent, and a born criminal. dupont had never had any compunctions or remorse, had never lost a night's sleep because of what they two had done, instigated thereto by the other, who had paid them so well for the dark thing. the other was henderley, the financier. he was worse perhaps than dupont, for he was in a different sphere of life, was rich beyond counting, and had been early nurtured in quiet christian surroundings. the spirit of ambition, rivalry, and the methods of a degenerate and cruel finance had seized him, mastered him; so that, under the cloak of power--as a toreador hides the blade under the red cloth before his enemy the toro--he held a sword of capital which did cruel and vicious things, at last becoming criminal also. henderley had incited and paid; the others, dupont and lygon, had acted and received. henderley had had no remorse, none at any rate that weighed upon him; for he had got used to ruining rivals, and seeing strong men go down, and those who had fought him come to beg or borrow of him in the end. he had seen more than one commit suicide, and those they loved go down and farther down, and he had helped these up a little, but not enough to put them near his own plane again; and he could not see--it never occurred to him--that he had done any evil to them. dupont thought upon his crimes now and then, and his heart hardened, for he had no moral feeling; henderley did not think at all. it was left to the man of the reedy lake to pay the penalty of apprehension, to suffer the effects of crime upon a nature not naturally criminal. again and again, how many hundreds of times, had roger lygon seen in his sleep--had even seen awake so did hallucination possess him--the new cattle trail he had fired for scores of miles. the fire had destroyed the grass over millions of acres, two houses had been burned and three people had lost their lives; all to satisfy the savage desire of one man, to destroy the chance of a cattle trade over a great section of country for the railway which was to compete with his own--an act which, in the end, was futile, failed of its purpose. dupont and lygon had been paid their price, and had disappeared, and been forgotten--they were but pawns in his game--and there was no proof against henderley. henderley had forgotten. lygon wished to forget, but dupont remembered, and meant now to reap fresh profit by the remembrance. dupont was coming to-night, and the hatchet of crime was to be dug up again. so it had been planned. as the shadows fell, lygon roused himself from his trance with a shiver. it was not cold, but in him there was a nervous agitation, making him cold from head to foot; his body seemed as impoverished as his mind. looking with heavy-lidded eyes across the prairie, he saw in the distance the barracks of the riders of the plains and the jail near by, and his shuddering ceased. there was where he belonged, within four stone walls; yet here he was free to go where he willed, to live as he willed, with no eye upon him. with no eye upon him? there was no eye, but there was the whisperer whom he could never drive away. morning and night he heard the words, "you--you--you! fire, and blood, and shame!" he had snatched sleep when he could find it, after long, long hours of tramping over the plains, ostensibly to shoot wild fowl, but in truth to bring on a great bodily fatigue--and sleep. his sleep only came then in the first watches of the night. as the night wore on the whisperer began again, as the cloud of weariness lifted a little from him, and the senses were released from the heavy sedative of unnatural exertion. ......................... the dusk deepened. the moon slowly rose. he cooked his scanty meal, and took a deep draught from a horn of whiskey from beneath a board in the flooring. he had not the courage to face dupont without it, nor yet to forget what he must forget, if he was to do the work dupont came to arrange--he must forget the girl who had saved his life and the influence of those strange moments in which she had spoken down to him, in the abyss where he had been lying. he sat in the doorway, a fire gleaming behind him; he drank in the good air as though his lungs were thirsty for it, and saw the silver glitter of the moon upon the water. not a breath of wind stirred, and the shining path the moon made upon the reedy lake fascinated his eye. everything was so still except that whisper louder in his ear than it had ever been before. suddenly, upon the silver path upon the lake there shot a silent canoe, with a figure as silently paddling towards him. he gazed for a moment dismayed, and then got to his feet with a jerk. "dupont," he said mechanically. the canoe swished among the reeds and rushes, scraped on the shore, and a tall, burly figure sprang from it, and stood still, looking at the house. "qui reste la--lygon?" he asked. "dupont," was the nervous, hesitating reply. dupont came forwards quickly. "ah, ben, here we are again--so," he grunted cheerily. entering the house they sat before the fire, holding their hands to the warmth from force of habit, though the night was not cold. "ben, you will do it to-night--then?" dupont said. "sacre, it is time!" "do what?" rejoined the other heavily. an angry light leapt into dupont's eyes. "you not unnerstan' my lettersbah! you know it all right, so queeck." the other remained silent, staring into the fire with wide, searching eyes. dupont put a hand on him. "you ketch my idee queeck. we mus' have more money from that henderley--certainlee. it is ten years, and he t'ink it is all right. he t'ink we come no more becos' he give five t'ousan' dollars to us each. that was to do the t'ing, to fire the country. now we want another ten t'ousan' to us each, to forget we do it for him --hein?" still there was no reply. dupont went on, watching the other furtively, for he did not like this silence. but he would not resent it till he was sure there was good cause. "it comes to suit us. he is over there at the old man lak', where you can get at him easy, not like in the city where he lif'. over in the states, he laugh mebbe, becos' he is at home, an' can buy off the law. but here--it is canadaw, an' they not care eef he have hunder' meellion dollar. he know that--sure. eef you say you not care a dam to go to jail, so you can put him there, too, becos' you have not'ing, an' so dam seeck of everyt'ing, he will t'ink ten t'ousan' dollar same as one cent to nic dupont--ben sur!" lygon nodded his head, still holding his hands to the blaze. with ten thousand dollars he could get away into--into another world somewhere, some world where he could forget; as he forgot for a moment this afternoon when the girl said to him, "it is never too late to mend." now as he thought of her, he pulled his coat together, and arranged the rough scarf at his neck involuntarily. ten thousand dollars--but ten thousand dollars by blackmail, hush-money, the reward of fire, and blood, and shame! was it to go on? was he to commit a new crime? he stirred, as though to shake off the net that he felt twisting round him, in the hands of the robust and powerful dupont, on whom crime sat so lightly, who had flourished while he, lygon, had gone lower and lower. ten years ago he had been the better man, had taken the lead, was the master, dupont the obedient confederate, the tool. now, dupont, once the rough river-driver, grown prosperous in a large way for him--who might yet be mayor of his town in quebec--he held the rod of rule. lygon was conscious that the fifty dollars sent him every new year for five years by dupont had been sent with a purpose, and that he was now dupont's tool. debilitated, demoralised, how could he, even if he wished, struggle against this powerful confederate, as powerful in will as in body? yet if he had his own way he would not go to henderley. he had lived with "a familiar spirit" so long, he feared the issue of this next excursion into the fens of crime. dupont was on his feet now. "he will be here only three days more--i haf find it so. to-night it mus' be done. as we go i will tell you what to say. i will wait at the forks, an' we will come back togedder. his cheque will do. eef he gif at all, the cheque is all right. he will not stop it. eef he haf the money, it is better--sacre--yes. eef he not gif--well, i will tell you, there is the other railway man he try to hurt, how would he like--but i will tell you on the river. main'enant-queeck, we go." without a word lygon took down another coat and put it on. doing so he concealed a weapon quickly as dupont stooped to pick a coal for his pipe from the blaze. lygon had no fixed purpose in taking a weapon with him; it was only a vague instinct of caution that moved him. in the canoe on the river, in an almost speechless apathy, he heard dupont's voice giving him instructions. ....................... henderley, the financier, had just finished his game of whist and dismissed his friends--it was equivalent to dismissal, rough yet genial as he seemed to be, so did immense wealth and its accompanying power affect his relations with those about him. in everything he was "considered." he was in good humour, for he had won all the evening, and with a smile he rubbed his hands among the notes--three thousand dollars it was. it was like a man with a pocket full of money, chuckling over a coin he has found in the street. presently he heard a rustle of the inner tent-curtain and swung round. he faced the man from the reedy lake. instinctively he glanced round for a weapon, mechanically his hands firmly grasped the chair in front of him. he had been in danger of his life many times, and he had no fear. he had been threatened with assassination more than once, and he had got used to the idea of danger; life to him was only a game. he kept his nerve; he did not call out; he looked his visitor in the eyes. "what are you doing here? who are you?" he said. "don't you know me?" answered lygon, gazing intently at him. face to face with the man who had tempted him to crime, lygon had a new sense of boldness, a sudden feeling of reprisal, a rushing desire to put the screw upon him. at sight of this millionaire with the pile of notes before him there vanished the sickening hesitation of the afternoon, of the journey with dupont. the look of the robust, healthy financier was like acid in a wound; it maddened him. "you will know me better soon," lygon added, his head twitching with excitement. henderley recognised him now. he gripped the armchair spasmodically, but presently regained a complete composure. he knew the game that was forward here; and he also thought that if once he yielded to blackmail there would never be an end to it. he made no pretence, but came straight to the point. "you can do nothing; there is no proof," he said with firm assurance. "there is dupont," answered lygon doggedly. "who is dupont?" "the french canadian who helped me--i divided with him." "you said the man who helped you died. you wrote that to me. i suppose you are lying now." henderley coolly straightened the notes on the table, smoothing out the wrinkles, arranging them according to their denominations with an apparently interested eye; yet he was vigilantly watching the outcast before him. to yield to blackmail would be fatal; not to yield to it-he could not see his way. he had long ago forgotten the fire, and blood, and shame. no whisperer reminded him of that black page in the history of his life; he had been immune of conscience. he could not understand this man before him. it was as bad a case of human degradation as ever he had seen--he remembered the stalwart, if dissipated, ranchman who had acted on his instigation. he knew now that he had made a foolish blunder then, that the scheme had been one of his failures; but he had never looked on it as with eyes reproving crime. as a hundred thoughts tending towards the solution of the problem by which he was faced, flashed through his mind, and he rejected them all, he repeated mechanically the phrase, "i suppose you are lying now." "dupont is here--not a mile away," was the reply. "he will give proof. he would go to jail or to the gallows to put you there, if you do not pay. he is a devil--dupont." still the great man could not see his way out. he must temporise for a little longer, for rashness might bring scandal or noise; and near by was his daughter, the apple of his eye. "what do you want? how much did you figure you could get out of me, if i let you bleed me?" he asked sneeringly and coolly. "come now, how much?" lygon, in whom a blind hatred of the man still raged, was about to reply, when he heard a voice calling, "daddy, daddy!" suddenly the red, half-insane light died down in lygon's eyes. he saw the snake upon the ground by the reedy lake, the girl standing over it-the girl with the tawny hair. this was her voice. henderley had made a step towards a curtain opening into another room of the great tent, but before he could reach it the curtain was pushed back, and the girl entered with a smile. "may i come in?" she said; then stood still astonished; seeing lygon. "oh!" she exclaimed. "oh--you!" all at once a look came into her face which stirred it as a flying insect stirs the water of a pool. on the instant she remembered that she had seen the man before. it was ten years ago in montana on the night of her birthday. her father had been called away to talk with this man, and she had seen him from the steps of the "special." it was only the caricature of the once strong, erect ranchman that she saw, but there was no mistake, she recognised him now. lygon, dumfounded, looked from her to her father, and he saw now in henderley's eyes a fear that was not to be misunderstood. here was where henderley could be smitten, could be brought to his knees. it was the vulnerable part of him. lygon could see that he was stunned. the great financier was in his power. he looked back again to the girl, and her face was full of trouble. a sharp suspicion was in her heart that somehow or other her father was responsible for this man's degradation and ruin. she looked lygon in the eyes. "did you want to see me?" she asked. she scarcely knew why she said it; but she was sensible of trouble, maybe of tragedy, somewhere; and she had a vague dread of she knew not what, for hide it, avoid it, as she had done so often, there was in her heart an unhappy doubt concerning her father. a great change had come over lygon. her presence had altered him. he was again where she had left him in the afternoon. he heard her say to her father, "this was the man i told you of--at the reedy lake. did you come to see me?" she repeated. "i did not know you were here," he answered. "i came"--he was conscious of henderley's staring eyes fixed upon him helplessly--"i came to ask your father if he would not buy my shack. there is good shooting at the lake; the ducks come plenty, sometimes. i want to get away, to start again somewhere. i've been a failure. i want to get away, right away south. if he would buy it i could start again. i've had no luck." he had invented it on the moment, but the girl understood better than lygon or henderley could have dreamed. she had seen the change pass over lygon. henderley had a hand on himself again, and the startled look went out of his eyes. "what do you want for your shack and the lake?" he asked with restored confidence. the fellow no doubt was grateful that his daughter had saved his life, he thought. "five hundred dollars," answered lygon quickly. henderley would have handed over all that lay on the table before him but that he thought it better not to do so. "i'll buy it," he said. "you seem to have been hit hard. here is the money. bring me the deed to-morrow--to-morrow." "i'll not take the money till i give you the deed," said lygon. "it will do to-morrow. it's doing me a good turn. i'll get away and start again somewhere. i've done no good up here. thank you, sir--thank you." before they realised it, the tent-curtain rose and fell, and he was gone into the night. the trouble was still deep in the girl's eyes as she kissed her father, and he, with an overdone cheerfulness, wished her a good night. the man of iron had been changed into a man of straw once at least in his lifetime. lygon found dupont at the forks. "eh ben, it is all right--yes?" dupont asked eagerly as lygon joined him. "yes, it is all right," answered lygon. with an exulting laugh and an obscene oath, dupont pushed out the canoe, and they got away into the moonlight. no word was spoken for some distance, but dupont kept giving grunts of satisfaction. "you got the ten t'ousan' each--in cash or cheque, eh? the cheque or the money-hein?" "i've got nothing," answered lygon. dupont dropped his paddle with a curse. "you got not'ing! you said eet was all right," he growled. "it is all right. i got nothing. i asked for nothing. i have had enough. i have finished." with a roar of rage dupont sprang on him, and caught him by the throat as the canoe swayed and dipped. he was blind with fury. lygon tried with one hand for his knife, and got it, but the pressure on his throat was growing terrible. for minutes the struggle continued, for lygon was fighting with the desperation of one who makes his last awful onset against fate and doom. dupont also had his knife at work. at last it drank blood, but as he got it home, he suddenly reeled blindly, lost his balance, and lurched into the water with a groan. lygon, weapon in hand, and bleeding freely, waited for him to rise and make for the canoe again. ten, twenty, fifty seconds passed. dupont did not rise. a minute went by, and still there was no stir, no sign. dupont would never rise again. in his wild rage he had burst a blood vessel on the brain. lygon bound up his reeking wound as best he could. he did--it calmly, whispering to himself the while. "i must do it. i must get there if i can. i will not be afraid to die then," he muttered to himself. presently he grasped an oar and paddled feebly. a slight wind had risen, and, as he turned the boat in to face the forks again, it helped to carry the canoe to the landing-place. lygon dragged himself out. he did not try to draw the canoe up, but began this journey of a mile back to the tent he had left so recently. first, step by step, leaning against trees, drawing himself forwards, a journey as long to his determined mind as from youth to age. would it never end? it seemed a terrible climbing up the sides of a cliff, and, as he struggled fainting on, all sorts of sounds were in his ears, but he realised that the whisperer was no longer there. the sounds he heard did not torture, they helped his stumbling feet. they were like the murmur of waters, like the sounds of the forest and soft, booming bells. but the bells were only the beatings of his heart-so loud, so swift. he was on his knees now crawling on-on-on. at last there came a light, suddenly bursting on him from a tent, he was so near. then he called, and called again, and fell forwards on his face. but now he heard a voice above him. it was her voice. he had blindly struggled on to die near her, near where she was, she was so pitiful and good. he had accomplished his journey, and her voice was speaking above him. there were other voices, but it was only hers that he heard. "god help him--oh, god help him!" she was saying. he drew a long quiet breath. "i will sleep now," he said clearly. he would hear the whisperer no more. as deep as the sea "what can i do, dan? i'm broke, too. my last dollar went to pay my last debt to-day. i've nothing but what i stand in. i've got prospects, but i can't discount prospects at the banks." the speaker laughed bitterly. "i've reaped and i'm sowing, the same as you, dan." the other made a nervous motion of protest. "no; not the same as me, flood--not the same. it's sink or swim with me, and if you can't help me--oh, i'd take my gruel without whining, if it wasn't for di! it's that knocks me over. it's the shame to her. oh, what a cursed ass and fool--and thief, i've been!" "thief-thief?" flood rawley dropped the flaming match with which he was about to light a cheroot, and stood staring, his dark-blue eyes growing wider, his worn, handsome face becoming drawn, as swift conviction mastered him. he felt that the black words which had fallen from his friend's lips--from the lips of diana welldon's brother--were the truth. he looked at the plump face, the full amiable eyes, now misty with fright, at the characterless hand nervously feeling the golden moustache, at the well-fed, inert body; and he knew that whatever the trouble or the peril, dan welldon could not surmount it alone. "what is it?" rawley asked rather sharply, his fingers running through his slightly grizzled, black hair, but not excitedly, for he wanted no scenes; and if this thing could hurt di welldon, and action was necessary, he must remain cool. what she was to him, heaven and he only knew; what she had done for him, perhaps neither understood fully as yet. "what is it--quick?" he added, and his words were like a sharp grip upon dan welldon's shoulder. "racing--cards?" dan nodded. "yes, over at askatoon; five hundred on jibway, the favourite--he fell at the last fence; five hundred at poker with nick fison; and a thousand in land speculation at edmonton, on margin. everything went wrong." "and so you put your hand in the railway company's money-chest?" "it seemed such a dead certainty--jibway; and the edmonton corner-blocks, too. i'd had luck with nick before; but--well, there it is, flood." "they know--the railway people--shaughnessy knows?" "yes, the president knows. he's at calgary now. they telegraphed him, and he wired to give me till midnight to pay up, or go to jail. they're watching me now. i can't stir. there's no escape, and there's no one i can ask for help but you. that's why i've come, flood." "lord, what a fool! couldn't you see what the end would be, if your plunging didn't come off? you--you oughtn't to bet, or speculate, or play cards, you're not clever enough. you've got blind rashness, and so you think you're bold. and di--oh, you idiot! and on a salary of a thousand dollars a year!" "i suppose di would help me; but i couldn't explain." the weak face puckered, a lifeless kind of tear gathered in the ox-like eyes. "yes, she probably would help you. she'd probably give you all she's saved to go to europe with and study, saved from her pictures sold at twenty per cent of their value; and she'd mortgage the little income she's got to keep her brother out of jail. of course she would, and of course you ought to be ashamed of yourself for thinking of it." rawley lighted his cigar and smoked fiercely. "it would be better for her than my going to jail," stubbornly replied the other. "but i don't want to tell her, or to ask her for money. that's why i've come to you. you needn't be so hard, flood; you've not been a saint; and di knows it." rawley took the cheroot from his mouth, threw back his head, and laughed mirthlessly, ironically. then suddenly he stopped and looked round the room till his eyes rested on a portrait-drawing which hung on the wall opposite the window, through which the sun poured. it was the face of a girl with beautiful bronzed hair, and full, fine, beautifully modelled face, with brown eyes deep and brooding, which seemed to have time and space behind them--not before them. the lips were delicate and full, and had the look suggesting a smile which the inward thought has stayed. it was like one of the titian women--like a titian that hangs on the wall of the gallery at munich. the head and neck, the whole personality, had an air of distinction and destiny. the drawing had been done by a wandering duchess who had seen the girl sketching in the foothills, when on a visit to that "wild west" which has such power to refine and inspire minds not superior to nature. its replica was carried to a castle in scotland. it had been the gift of diana welldon on a certain day not long ago, when flood rawley had made a pledge to her, which was as vital to him and to his future as two thousand dollars were vital to dan welldon now. "you've not been a saint, and di knows it," repeated the weak brother of a girl whose fame belonged to the west; whose name was a signal for cheerful looks; whose buoyant humour and impartial friendliness gained her innumerable friends; and whose talent, understood by few, gave her a certain protection, lifting her a little away from the outwardly crude and provincial life around her. when rawley spoke, it was with quiet deliberation, and even gentleness. "i haven't been a saint, and she knows it, as you say, dan; but the law is on my side as yet, and it isn't on yours. there's the difference." "you used to gamble yourself; you were pretty tough, and you oughtn't to walk up my back with hobnailed boots." "yes, i gambled, dan, and i drank, and i raised a dust out here. my record was writ pretty big. but i didn't lay my hands on the ark of the social covenant, whose inscription is, thou shalt not steal; and that's why i'm poor but proud, and no one's watching for me round the corner, same as you." welldon's half-defiant petulance disappeared. "what's done can't be undone." then, with a sudden burst of anguish: "oh, get me out of this somehow!" "how? i've got no money. by speaking to your sister?" the other was silent. "shall i do it?" rawley peered anxiously into the other's face, and he knew that there was no real security against the shameful trouble being laid bare to her. "i want a chance to start straight again." the voice was fluttered, almost whining; it carried no conviction; but the words had in them a reminder of words that rawley himself had said to diana welldon but a few months ago, and a new spirit stirred in him. he stepped forwards and, gripping dan's shoulder with a hand of steel, said fiercely: "no, dan. i'd rather take you to her in your coffin. she's never known you, never seen what most of us have seen, that all you have--or nearly all--is your lovely looks, and what they call a kind heart. there's only you two in your family, and she's got to live with you--awhile, anyhow. she couldn't stand this business. she mustn't stand it. she's had enough to put up with in me; but at the worst she could pass me by on the other side, and there would be an end. it would have been said that flood rawley had got his deserts. it's different with you." his voice changed, softened. "dan, i made a pledge to her that i'd never play cards again for money while i lived, and it wasn't a thing to take on without some cogitation. but i cogitated, and took it on, and started life over again--me! began practising law again--barrister, solicitor, notary public--at forty. and at last i've got my chance in a big case against the canadian pacific. it'll make me or break me, dan. . . . there, i wanted you to see where i stand with di; and now i want you to promise me that you'll not leave these rooms till i see you again. i'll get you clear; i'll save you, dan." "flood! oh, my god, flood!" the voice was broken. "you've got to stay here, and you're to remember not to get the funk, even if i don't come before midnight. i'll be here then, if i'm alive. if you don't keep your word--but, there, you will." both hands gripped the graceful shoulders of the miscreant like a vice. "so help me, flood," was the frightened, whispered reply, "i'll make it up to you somehow, some day. i'll pay you back." rawley caught up his cap from the table. "steady--steady. don't go at a fence till you're sure of your seat, dan," he said. then with a long look at the portrait on the wall, and an exclamation which the other did not hear, he left the room with a set, determined face. ...................... "who told you? what brought you, flood?" the girl asked, her chin in her long, white hands, her head turned from the easel to him, a book in her lap, the sun breaking through the leaves upon her hat, touching the titian hair with splendour. "fate brought me, and didn't tell me," he answered, with a whimsical quirk of the mouth, and his trouble lurking behind the sea-deep eyes. "wouldn't you have come if you knew i was here?" she urged archly. "not for two thousand dollars," he answered, the look of trouble deepening in his eyes, but his lips were smiling. he had a quaint sense of humour, and at his last gasp would have noted the ridiculous thing. and surely it was a droll malignity of fate to bring him here to her whom, in this moment of all moments in his life, he wished far away. fate meant to try him to the uttermost. this hurdle of trial was high indeed. "two thousand dollars--nothing less?" she inquired gaily. "you are too specific for a real lover." "fate fixed the amount," he added drily. "fate--you talk so much of fate," she replied gravely, and her eyes looked into the distance. "you make me think of it too, and i don't want to do so. i don't want to feel helpless, to be the child of accident and destiny." "oh, you get the same thing in the 'fore-ordination' that old minister m'gregor preaches every sunday. 'be elect or be damned,' he says to us all. names aren't important; but, anyhow, it was fate that led me here." "are you sure it wasn't me?" she asked softly. "are you sure i wasn't calling you, and you had to come?" "well, it was en route, anyhow; and you are always calling, if i must tell you," he laughed. suddenly he became grave. "i hear you call me in the night sometimes, and i start up and say 'yes, di!' out of my sleep. it's a queer hallucination. i've got you on the brain, certainly." "it seems to vex you--certainly," she said, opening the book that lay in her lap, "and your eyes trouble me to-day. they've got a look that used to be in them, flood, before--before you promised; and another look i don't understand and don't like. i suppose it's always so. the real business of life is trying to understand each other." "you have wonderful thoughts for one that's had so little chance," he said. "that's because you're a genius, i suppose. teaching can't give that sort of thing--the insight." "what is the matter, flood?" she asked suddenly again, her breast heaving, her delicate, rounded fingers interlacing. "i heard a man say once that you were 'as deep as the sea.' he did not mean it kindly, but i do. you are in trouble, and i want to share it if i can. where were you going when you came across me here?" "to see old busby, the quack-doctor up there," he answered, nodding towards a shrubbed and wooded hillock behind them. "old busby!" she rejoined in amazement. "what do you want with him --not medicine of that old quack, that dreadful man?" "he cures people sometimes. a good many out here owe him more than they'll ever pay him." "is he as rich an old miser as they say?" "he doesn't look rich, does he?" was the enigmatical answer. "does any one know his real history? he didn't come from nowhere. he must have had friends once. some one must once have cared for him, though he seems such a monster now." "yet he cures people sometimes," he rejoined abstractedly. "probably there's some good underneath. i'm going to try and see." "what is it. what is your business with him? won't you tell me? is it so secret?" "i want him to help me in a case i've got in hand. a client of mine is in trouble--you mustn't ask about it; and he can help, i think--i think so." he got to his feet. "i must be going, di," he added. suddenly a flush swept over his face, and he reached out and took both her hands. "oh, you are a million times too good for me!" he said. "but if all goes well, i'll do my best to make you forget it." "wait--wait one moment," she answered. "before you go, i want you to hear what i've been reading over and over to myself just now. it is from a book i got from quebec, called 'when time shall pass'. it is a story of two like you and me. the man is writing to the woman, and it has things that you have said to me--in a different way." "no, i don't talk like a book, but i know a star in a dark night when i see it," he answered, with a catch in his throat. "hush," she said, catching his hand in hers, as she read, while all around them the sounds of summer--the distant clack of a reaper, the crack of a whip, the locusts droning, the whir of a young partridge, the squeak of a chipmunk--were tuned to the harmony of the moment and her voice: "'night and the sombre silence, oh, my love, and one star shining! first, warm, velvety sleep, and then this quick, quiet waking to your voice which seems to call me. is it--is it you that calls? do you sometimes, even in your dreams, speak to me? far beneath unconsciousness is there the summons of your spirit to me? . . . i like to think so. i like to think that this thing which has come to us is deeper, greater than we are. sometimes day and night there flash before my eyes--my mind's eyes--pictures of you and me in places unfamiliar, landscapes never before seen, activities uncomprehended and unknown, bright, alluring glimpses of some second being, some possible, maybe never-to-be-realised future, alas! yet these swift-moving shutters of the soul, or imagination, or reality --who shall say which?-give me a joy never before felt in life. if i am not a better man for this love of mine for you, i am more than i was, and shall be more than i am. much of my life in the past was mean and small, so much that i have said and done has been unworthy --my love for you is too sharp a light for my gross imperfections of the past! come what will, be what must, i stake my life, my heart, my soul on you--that beautiful, beloved face; those deep eyes in which my being is drowned; those lucid, perfect hands that have bound me to the mast of your destiny. i cannot go back, i must go forwards: now i must keep on loving you or be shipwrecked. i did not know that this was in me, this tide of love, this current of devotion. destiny plays me beyond my ken, beyond my dreams. "o cithaeron!" turn from me now--or never, o my love! loose me from the mast, and let the storm and wave wash me out into the sea of your forgetfulness now--or never! . . . but keep me, keep me, if your love is great enough, if i bring you any light or joy; for i am yours to my uttermost note of life.'" "he knew--he knew!" rawley said, catching her wrists in his hands and drawing her to him. "if i could write, that's what i should have said to you, beautiful and beloved. how mean and small and ugly my life was till you made me over. i was a bad lot." "so much hung on one little promise," she said, and drew closer to him. "you were never bad," she added; then, with an arm sweeping the universe, "oh, isn't it all good, and isn't it all worth living?" his face lost its glow. over in the town her brother faced a ruined life, and the girl beside him, a dark humiliation and a shame which would poison her life hereafter, unless--his look turned to the little house where the quack-doctor lived. he loosed her hands. "now for caliban," he said. "i shall be ariel and follow you-in my heart," she said. "be sure and make him tell you the story of his life," she added with a laugh, as his lips swept the hair behind her ears. as he moved swiftly away, watching his long strides, she said proudly, "as deep as the sea." after a moment she added: "and he was once a gambler, until, until--" she glanced at the open book, then with sweet mockery looked at her hands--"until 'those lucid, perfect hands bound me to the mast of your destiny.' o vain diana! but they are rather beautiful," she added softly, "and i am rather happy." there was something like a gay little chuckle in her throat. "o vain diana!" she repeated. ....................... rawley entered the door of the but on the hill without ceremony. there was no need for courtesy, and the work he had come to do could be easier done without it. old busby was crouched over a table, his mouth lapping milk from a full bowl on the table. he scarcely raised his head when rawley entered-through the open door he had seen his visitor coming. he sipped on, his straggling beard dripping. there was silence for a time. "what do you want?" he growled at last. "finish your swill, and then we can talk," said rawley carelessly. he took a chair near the door, lighted a cheroot and smoked, watching the old man, as he tipped the great bowl towards his face, as though it were some wild animal feeding. the clothes were patched and worn, the coatfront was spattered with stains of all kinds, the hair and beard were unkempt and long, giving him what would have been the look of a mangy lion, but that the face had the expression of some beast less honourable. the eyes, however, were malignantly intelligent, the hands, ill-cared for, were long, well-shaped and capable, but of a hateful yellow colour like the face. and through all was a sense of power, dark and almost mediaeval. secret, evilly wise and inhuman, he looked a being apart, whom men might seek for help in dark purposes. "what do you want--medicine?" he muttered at last, wiping his beard and mouth with the palm of his hand, and the palm on his knees. rawley looked at the ominous-looking bottles on the shelves above the old man's head; at the forceps, knives, and other surgical instruments on the walls--they at least were bright and clean--and, taking the cheroot slowly from his mouth, he said: "shin-plasters are what i want. a friend of mine has caught his leg in a trap." the old man gave an evil chuckle at the joke, for a "shin-plaster" was a money-note worth a quarter of a dollar. "i've got some," he growled in reply, "but they cost twenty-five cents each. you can have them for your friend at the price." "i want eight thousand of them from you. he's hurt pretty bad," was the dogged, dry answer. the shaggy eyebrows of the quack drew together, and the eyes peered out sharply through half-closed lids. "there's plenty of wanting and not much getting in this world," he rejoined, with a leer of contempt, and spat on the floor, while yet the furtive watchfulness of the eyes indicated a mind ill at ease. smoke came in placid puffs from the cheroot--rawley was smoking very hard, but with a judicial meditation, as it seemed. "yes, but if you want a thing so bad that, to get it, you'll face the devil or the beast of revelations, it's likely to come to you." "you call me a beast?" the reddish-brown face grew black like that of a bedouin in his rage. "i said the beast of revelations--don't you know the scriptures?" "i know that a fool is to be answered according to his folly," was the hoarse reply, and the great head wagged to and fro in its smarting rage. "well, i'm doing my best; and perhaps when the folly is all out, we'll come to the revelations of the beast." there was a silence, in which the gross impostor shifted heavily in his seat, while a hand twitched across the mouth, and then caught at the breast of the threadbare black coat abstractedly. rawley leaned forward, one elbow on a knee, the cheroot in his fingers. he spoke almost confidentially, as to some ignorant and misguided savage --as he had talked to indian chiefs in his time, when searching for the truth regarding some crime: "i've had a lot of revelations in my time. a lawyer and a doctor always do. and though there are folks who say i'm no lawyer, as there are those who say with greater truth that you're no doctor, speaking technically, we've both had 'revelations.' you've seen a lot that's seamy, and so have i. you're pretty seamy yourself. in fact, you're as bad a man as ever saved lives--and lost them. you've had a long tether, and you've swung on it--swung wide. but you've had a lot of luck that you haven't swung high, too." he paused and flicked away the ash from his cheroot, while the figure before him swayed animal-like from side to side, muttering. "you've got brains, a great lot of brains of a kind--however you came by them," rawley continued; "and you've kept a lot of people in the west from passing in their cheques before their time. you've rooked 'em, chiselled 'em out of a lot of cash, too. there was old lamson--fifteen hundred for the goitre on his neck; and mrs. gilligan for the cancer--two thousand, wasn't it? tincture of lebanon leaves you called the medicine, didn't you? you must have made fifty thousand or so in the last ten years." "what i've made i'll keep," was the guttural answer, and the talon-like fingers clawed the table. "you've made people pay high for curing them, saving them sometimes; but you haven't paid me high for saving you in the courts; and there's one case that you haven't paid me for at all. that was when the patient died--and you didn't." the face of the old man became mottled with a sudden fear, but he jerked it forwards once or twice with an effort at self-control. presently he steadied to the ordeal of suspense, while he kept saying to himself, "what does he know--what--which?" "malpractice resulting in death--that was poor jimmy tearle; and something else resulting in death--that was the switchman's wife. and the law is hard in the west where a woman's in the case--quick and hard. yes, you've swung wide on your tether; look out that you don't swing high, old man." "you can prove nothing; it's bluff;" came the reply in a tone of malice and of fear. "you forget. i was your lawyer in jimmy tearle's case, and a letter's been found written by the switchman's wife to her husband. it reached me the night he was killed by the avalanche. it was handed over to me by the post-office, as the lawyer acting for the relatives. i've read it. i've got it. it gives you away." "i wasn't alone." fear had now disappeared, and the old man was fighting. "no, you weren't alone; and if the switchman and the switchman's wife weren't dead and out of it all; and if the other man that didn't matter any more than you wasn't alive and hadn't a family that does matter, i wouldn't be asking you peaceably for two thousand dollars as my fee for getting you off two cases that might have sent you to prison for twenty years, or, maybe, hung you to the nearest tree." the heavy body pulled itself together, the hands clinched. "blackmailyou think i'll stand it?" "yes, i think you will. i want two thousand dollars to help a friend in a hole, and i mean to have it, if you think your neck's worth it." teeth, wonderfully white, showed through the shaggy beard. "if i had to go to prison--or swing, as you say, do you think i'd go with my mouth shut? i'd not pay up alone. the west would crack--holy heaven, i know enough to make it sick. go on and see! i've got the west in my hand." he opened and shut his fingers with a grimace of cruelty which shook rawley in spite of himself. rawley had trusted to the inspiration of the moment; he had had no clearly defined plan; he had believed that he could frighten the old man, and by force of will bend him to his purposes. it had all been more difficult than he had expected. he kept cool, imperturbable, and determined, however. he knew that what the old quack said was true--the west might shake with scandal concerning a few who, no doubt, in remorse and secret fear, had more than paid the penalty of their offences. but he thought of di welldon and of her criminal brother, and every nerve, every faculty was screwed to its utmost limit of endurance and capacity. suddenly the old man gave a new turn to the event. he got up and, rummaging in an old box, drew out a dice-box. rattling the dice, he threw them out on the table before him, a strange, excited look crossing his face. "play for it," he said in a harsh, croaking voice. "play for the two thousand. win it if you can. you want it bad. i want to keep it bad. it's nice to have; it makes a man feel warm--money does. i'd sleep in ten-dollar bills, i'd have my clothes made of them, if i could; i'd have my house papered with them; i'd eat 'em. oh, i know, i know about you-and her--diana welldon! you've sworn off gambling, and you've kept your pledge for near a year. well, it's twenty years since i gambled--twenty years. i gambled with these then." he shook the dice in the box. "i gambled everything i had away--more than two thousand dollars, more than two thousand dollars." he laughed a raw, mirthless laugh. "well, you're the greatest gambler in the west. so was i-in the east. it pulverised me at last, when i'd nothing left--and drink, drink, drink. i gave up both one night and came out west. "i started doctoring here. i've got money, plenty of money--medicine, mines, land got it for me. i've been lucky. now you come to bluff me-me! you don't know old busby." he spat on the floor. "i'm not to be bluffed. i know too much. before they could lynch me i'd talk. but to play you, the greatest gambler in the west, for two thousand dollars-yes, i'd like the sting of it again. twos, fours, double-sixes--the gentleman's game!" he rattled the dice and threw them with a flourish out on the table, his evil face lighting up. "come! you can't have something for nothing," he growled. as he spoke, a change came over rawley's face. it lost its cool imperturbability, it grew paler, the veins on the fine forehead stood out, a new, flaring light came into the eyes. the old gambler's spirit was alive. but even as it rose, sweeping him into that area of fiery abstraction where every nerve is strung to a fine tension, and the surrounding world disappears, he saw the face of diana welldon, he remembered her words to him not an hour before, and the issue of the conflict, other considerations apart, was without doubt. but there was her brother and his certain fate, if the two thousand dollars were not paid in by midnight. he was desperate. it was in reality for diana's sake. he approached the table, and his old calm returned. "i have no money to play with," he said quietly. with a gasp of satisfaction, the old man fumbled in the inside of his coat and drew out layers of ten, fifty, and hundred-dollar bills. it was lined with them. he passed a pile over to rawley--two thousand dollars. he placed a similar pile before himself. as rawley laid his hand on the bills, the thought rushed through his mind, "you have it--keep it!" but he put it away from him. with a gentleman he might have done it, with this man before him, it was impossible. he must take his chances; and it was the only chance in which he had hope now, unless he appealed for humanity's sake, for the girl's sake, and told the real truth. it might avail. well, that would be the last resort. "for small stakes?" said the grimy quack in a gloating voice. rawley nodded and then added, "we stop at eleven o'clock, unless i've lost or won all before that." "and stake what's left on the last throw?" "yes." there was silence for a moment, in which rawley seemed to grow older, and a set look came to his mouth--a broken pledge, no matter what the cause, brings heavy penalties to the honest mind. he shut his eyes for an instant, and, when he opened them, he saw that his fellow-gambler was watching him with an enigmatical and furtive smile. did this caliban have some understanding of what was at stake in his heart and soul? "play!" rawley said sharply, and was himself again. for hour after hour there was scarce a sound, save the rattle of the dice and an occasional exclamation from the old man as he threw a double-six. as dusk fell, the door had been shut, and a lighted lantern was hung over their heads. fortune had fluctuated. once the old man's pile had diminished to two notes, then the luck had changed and his pile grew larger; then fell again; but, as the hands of the clock on the wall above the blue medicine bottles reached a quarter to eleven, it increased steadily throw after throw. now the player's fever was in rawley's eyes. his face was deadly pale, but his hand threw steadily, calmly, almost negligently, as it might seem. all at once, at eight minutes to eleven, the luck turned in his favour, and his pile mounted again. time after time he dropped doublesixes. it was almost uncanny. he seemed to see the dice in the box, and his hand threw them out with the precision of a machine. long afterwards he had this vivid illusion that he could see the dice in the box. as the clock was about to strike eleven he had before him three thousand eight hundred dollars. it was his throw. "two hundred," he said in a whisper, and threw. he won. with a gasp of relief, he got to his feet, the money in his hand. he stepped backward from the table, then staggered, and a faintness passed over him. he had sat so long without moving that his legs bent under him. there was a pail of water with a dipper in it on a bench. he caught up a dipperful of water, drank it empty, and let it fall in the pail again with a clatter. "dan," he said abstractedly, "dan, you're all safe now." then he seemed to wake, as from a dream, and looked at the man at the table. busby was leaning on it with both hands, and staring at rawley like some animal jaded and beaten from pursuit. rawley walked back to the table and laid down two thousand dollars. "i only wanted two thousand," he said, and put the other two thousand in his pocket. the evil eyes gloated, the long fingers clutched the pile, and swept it into a great inside pocket. then the shaggy head bent forwards. "you said it was for dan," he said--"dan welldon?" rawley hesitated. "what is that to you?" he replied at last. with a sudden impulse the old impostor lurched round, opened a box, drew out a roll, and threw it on the table. "it's got to be known sometime," he said, "and you'll be my lawyer when i'm put into the ground--you're clever. they call me a quack. malpractice--bah! there's my diploma--james clifton welldon. right enough, isn't it?" rawley was petrified. he knew the forgotten story of james clifton welldon, the specialist, turned gambler, who had almost ruined his own brother--the father of dan and diana--at cards and dice, and had then ruined himself and disappeared. here, where his brother had died, he had come years ago, and practised medicine as a quack. "oh, there's plenty of proof, if it's wanted!" he said. "i've got it here." he tapped the box behind him. "why did i do it? because it's my way. and you're going to marry my niece, and 'll have it all some day. but not till i've finished with it--not unless you win it from me at dice or cards. . . . but no"--something human came into the old, degenerate face--"no more gambling for the man that's to marry diana. there's a wonder and a beauty!" he chuckled to himself. "she'll be rich when i've done with it. you're a lucky man--ay, you're lucky." rawley was about to tell the old man what the two thousand dollars was for, but a fresh wave of repugnance passed over him, and, hastily drinking another dipperful of water, he opened the door. he looked back. the old man was crouching forward, lapping milk from the great bowl, his beard dripping. in disgust he swung round again. the fresh, clear air caught his face. with a gasp of relief he stepped out into the night, closing the door behind him. etext editor's bookmarks: don't go at a fence till you're sure of your seat the real business of life is trying to understand each other you've got blind rashness, and so you think you're bold this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] a romany of the snows being a continuation of the personal histories of "pierre and his people" and the last existing records of pretty pierre by gilbert parker volume 3. the bridge house the epaulettes the house with the broken shutter the finding of fingall three commandments in the vulgar tongue the bridge house it stood on a wide wall between two small bridges. these were approaches to the big covered bridge spanning the main channel of the madawaska river, and when swelled by the spring thaws and rains, the two flanking channels divided at the foundations of the house, and rustled away through the narrow paths of the small bridges to the rapids. you could stand at any window in the house and watch the ugly, rushing current, gorged with logs, come battering at the wall, jostle between the piers, and race on to the rocks and the dam and the slide beyond. you stepped from the front door upon the wall, which was a road between the bridges, and from the back door into the river itself. the house had once been a tavern. it looked a wayfarer, like its patrons the river-drivers, with whom it was most popular. you felt that it had no part in the career of the village on either side, but was like a rock in a channel, at which a swimmer caught or a vagrant fish loitered. pierre knew the place, when, of a night in the springtime or early summer, throngs of river-drivers and their bosses sauntered at its doors, or hung over the railing of the wall, as they talked and smoked. the glory of the bridge house suddenly declined. that was because finley, the owner, a rich man, came to hate the place--his brother's blood stained the barroom floor. he would have destroyed the house but that john rupert, the beggared gentleman came to him, and wished to rent it for a dwelling. mr. rupert was old, and had been miserably poor for many years, but he had a breeding and a manner superior to anyone at bamber's boom. he was too old for a labourer, he had no art or craftsmanship; his little money was gone in foolish speculations, and he was dependent on his granddaughter's slight earnings from music teaching and needlework. but he rented an acre of ground from finley, and grew vegetables; he gathered driftwood from the river for his winter fire, and made up the accounts of the storekeeper occasionally. yet it was merely keeping off starvation. he was not popular. he had no tongue for the meaningless village talk. people held him in a kind of awe, and yet they felt a mean satisfaction when they saw him shouldering driftwood, and piling it on the shore to be dragged away--the last resort of the poor, for which they blush. when mr. rupert asked for the house, finley knew the chances were he would not get the rental; yet, because he was sorry for the old man, he gave it to him at a low rate. he closed up the bar-room, however, and it was never opened afterwards. so it was that mr. rupert and judith, his granddaughter, came to live there. judith was a blithe, lissome creature, who had never known comfort or riches: they were taken from her grandfather before she was born, and her father and mother both died when she was a little child. but she had been taught by her grandmother, when she lived, and by her grandfather, and she had felt the graces of refined life. withal, she had a singular sympathy for the rude, strong life of the river. she was glad when they came to live at the bridge house, and shamed too: glad because they could live apart from the other villagers; shamed because it exposed her to the curiosity of those who visited the house, thinking it was still a tavern. but that was only for a time. one night jules brydon, the young river-boss, camped with his men at bamber's boom. he was of parents scotch and french, and the amalgamation of races in him made a striking product. he was cool and indomitable, yet hearty and joyous. it was exciting to watch him at the head of his men, breaking up a jam of logs, and it was a delight to hear him of an evening as he sang: "have you heard the cry of the long lachine, when happy is the sun in the morning? the rapids long and the banks of green, as we ride away in the morning, on the froth of the long lachine?" one day, soon after they came, the dams and booms were opened above, and forests of logs came riding down to bamber's boom. the current was strong, and the logs came on swiftly. as brydon's gang worked, they saw a man out upon a small raft of driftwood, which had been suddenly caught in the drive of logs, and was carried out towards the middle channel. the river-drivers laughed, for they failed to see that the man was old, and that he could not run across the rolling logs to the shore. the old man, evidently hopeless, laid down his pike-pole, folded his hands, and drifted with the logs. the river-drivers stopped laughing. they began to understand. brydon saw a woman standing at a window of the house waving her arms, and there floated up the river the words, "father! father!" he caught up a pikepole, and ran over that spinning floor of logs to the raft. the old man's face was white, but there was no fear in his eyes. "i cannot run the logs," he said at once; "i never did; i am too old, and i slip. it's no use. it is my granddaughter at that window. tell her that i'll think of her to the last. . . . good-bye!" brydon was eyeing the logs. the old man's voice was husky; he could not cry out, but he waved his hand to the girl. "oh, save him!" came from her faintly. brydon's eyes were now on the covered bridge. their raft was in the channel, coming straight between two piers. he measured his chances. he knew if he slipped, doing what he intended, that both might be drowned, and certainly mr. rupert; for the logs were close, and to drop among them was a bad business. if they once closed over there was an end of everything. "keep quite still," he said, "and when i throw you catch." he took the slight figure in his arms, sprang out upon the slippery logs, and ran. a cheer went up from the men on the shore, and the people who were gathering on the bridges, too late to be of service. besides, the bridge was closed, and there was only a small opening at the piers. for one of these piers brydon was making. he ran hard. once he slipped and nearly fell, but recovered. then a floating tree suddenly lunged up and struck him, so that he dropped upon a knee; but again he was up, and strained for the pier. he was within a few feet of it as they came to the bridge. the people gave a cry of fear, for they saw that there was no chance of both making it; because, too, at the critical moment a space of clear water showed near the pier. but brydon raised john rupert up, balanced himself, and tossed him at the pier, where two river-drivers stood stretching out their arms. an instant afterwards the old man was with his granddaughter. but brydon slipped and fell; the roots of a tree bore him down, and he was gone beneath the logs! there was a cry of horror from the watchers, then all was still. but below the bridge they saw an arm thrust up between the logs, and then another arm crowding them apart. now a head and shoulders appeared. luckily the piece of timber which brydon grasped was square, and did not roll. in a moment he was standing on it. there was a wild shout of encouragement. he turned his battered, blood-stained face to the bridge for an instant, and, with a wave of the hand and a sharp look towards the rapids below, once more sprang out. it was a brave sight, for the logs were in a narrower channel and more riotous. he rubbed the blood out of his eyes that he might see his way. the rolling forest gave him no quarter, but he came on, rocking with weakness, to within a few rods of the shore. then a half-dozen of his men ran out on the logs,--they were packed closely here,--caught him up, and brought him to dry ground. they took him to the bridge house. he was hurt more than he or they thought. the old man and the girl met them at the door. judith gave a little cry when she saw the blood and brydon's bruised face. he lifted his head as though her eyes had drawn his, and, their looks meeting, he took his hat off. her face flushed; she dropped her eyes. her grandfather seized brydon's big hand, and said some trembling words of thanks. the girl stepped inside, made a bed for him upon the sofa, and got him something to drink. she was very cool; she immediately asked pierre to go for the young doctor who had lately come to the place, and made ready warm water with which she wiped brydon's blood-stained face and hands, and then gave him some brandy. his comrades standing round watched her admiringly, she was so deft and delicate. brydon, as if to be nursed and cared for was not manly, felt ashamed, and came up quickly to a sitting posture, saying, "pshaw! i'm all right!" but he turned sick immediately, and judith's arms caught his head and shoulders as he fell back. his face turned, and was pillowed on her bosom. at this she blushed, but a look of singular dignity came into her face. those standing by were struck with a kind of awe; they were used mostly to the daughters of habitants and fifty-acre farmers. her sensitive face spoke a wonderful language: a divine gratitude and thankfulness; and her eyes had a clear moisture which did not dim them. the situation was trying to the river-drivers--it was too refined; and they breathed more freely when they got outside and left the girl, her grandfather, pierre, and the young doctor alone with the injured man. that was how the thing began. pierre saw the conclusion of events from the start. the young doctor did not. from the hour when he bound up brydon's head, judith's fingers aiding him, he felt a spring in his blood new to him. when he came to know exactly what it meant, and acted, it was too late. he was much surprised that his advances were gently repulsed. he pressed them hard: that was a mistake. he had an idea, not uncommon in such cases, that he was conferring an honour. but he was very young. a gold medal in anatomy is likely to turn a lad's head at the start. he falls into the error that the ability to demonstrate the medulla oblongata should likewise suffice to convince the heart of a maid. pierre enjoyed the situation; he knew life all round; he had boxed the compass of experience. he believed in judith. the old man interested him: he was a wreck out of an unfamiliar life. "well, you see," pierre said to brydon one day, as they sat on the high cross-beams of the little bridge, "you can't kill it in a man--what he was born. look, as he piles up the driftwood over there. broken down, eh? yes, but then there is something--a manner, an eye. he piles the wood like champagne bottles. on the raft, you remember, he took off his hat to death. that's different altogether from us." he gave a sidelong glance at brydon, and saw a troubled look. "yes," brydon said, "he is different; and so is she." "she is a lady," pierre said, with slow emphasis. "she couldn't hide it if she tried. she plays the piano, and looks all silk in calico. made for this?"--he waved his hand towards the bridge house. "no, no! made for--" he paused, smiled enigmatically, and dropped a bit of wood on the swift current. brydon frowned, then said: "well, made for what, pierre?" pierre looked over brydon's shoulder, towards a pretty cottage on the hillside. "made for homes like that, not this," he said, and he nodded first towards the hillside, then to the bridge house. (the cottage belonged to the young doctor.) a growl like an animal's came from brydon, and he clinched the other's shoulder. pierre glanced at the hand, then at brydon's face, and said sharply: "take it away." the hand dropped; but brydon's face was hot, and his eyes were hard. pierre continued: "but then women are strange. what you expect they will not--no. riches?--it is nothing; houses like that on the hill, nothing. they have whims. the hut is as good as the house, with the kitchen in the open where the river welts and washes, and a man--the great man of the world to them--to play the little game of life with. . . . pshaw! you are idle: move; you are thick in the head: think hard; you like the girl: speak." as he said this, there showed beneath them the front timbers of a small crib of logs with a crew of two men, making for the rapids and the slide below. here was an adventure, for running the rapids with so slight a craft and small a crew was smart work. pierre, measuring the distance, and with a "look out, below!" swiftly let himself down by his arms as far as he could, and then dropped to the timbers, as lightly as if it were a matter of two feet instead of twelve. he waved a hand to brydon, and the crib shot on. brydon sat eyeing it abstractedly till it ran into the teeth of the rapids, the long oars of the three men rising and falling to the monotonous cry. the sun set out the men and the craft against the tall dark walls of the river in strong relief, and brydon was carried away from what pierre had been saying. he had a solid pleasure in watching, and he sat up with a call of delight when he saw the crib drive at the slide. just glancing the edge, she shot through safely. his face blazed. "a pretty sight!" said a voice behind him. without a word he swung round, and dropped, more heavily than pierre, beside judith. "it gets into our bones," he said. "of course, though it ain't the same to you," he added, looking down at her over his shoulder. "you don't care for things so rough, mebbe?" "i love the river," she said quietly. "we're a rowdy lot, we river-drivers. we have to be. it's a rowdy business." "i never noticed that," she replied, gravely smiling. "when i was small i used to go to the river-drivers' camps with my brother, and they were always kind to us. they used to sing and play the fiddle, and joke; but i didn't think then that they were rowdy, and i don't now. they were never rough with us." "no one'd ever be rough with you," was the reply. "oh yes," she said suddenly, and turned her head away. she was thinking of what the young doctor had said to her that morning; how like a foolish boy he had acted: upbraiding her, questioning her, saying unreasonable things, as young egoists always do. in years she was younger than he, but in wisdom much older: in all things more wise and just. he had not struck her, but with his reckless tongue he had cut her to the heart. "oh yes," she repeated, and her eyes ran up to his face and over his great stalwart body; and then she leaned over the railing and looked into the water. "i'd break the man into pieces that was rough with you," he said between his teeth. "would you?" she asked in a whisper. then, not giving him a chance to reply, "we are very poor, you know, and some people are rough with the poor--and proud. i remember," she went on, simply, dreamily, and as if talking to herself, "the day when we first came to the bridge house. i sat down on a box and looked at the furniture--it was so little--and cried. coming here seemed the last of what grandfather used to be. i couldn't help it. he sat down too, and didn't say anything. he was very pale, and i saw that his eyes ached as he looked at me. then i got angry with myself, and sprang up and went to work--and we get along pretty well." she paused and sighed; then, after a minute: "i love the river. i don't believe i could be happy away from it. i should like to live on it, and die on it, and be buried in it." his eyes were on her eagerly. but she looked so frail and dainty that his voice, to himself, sounded rude. still, his hand blundered along the railing to hers, and covered it tenderly--for so big a hand. she drew her fingers away, but not very quickly. "don't!" she said, "and--and someone is coming!" there were footsteps behind them. it was her grandfather, carrying a board fished from the river. he grasped the situation, and stood speechless with wonder. he had never thought of this. he was a gentleman, in spite of all, and this man was a common river-boss. presently he drew himself up with an air. the heavy board was still in his arms. brydon came over and took the board, looking him squarely in the eyes. "mr. rupert," he said, "i want to ask something." the old man nodded. "i helped you out of a bad scrape on the river?" again the old man nodded. "well, mebbe, i saved your life. for that i'm going to ask you to draw no more driftwood from the madawaska--not a stick, now or ever." "it is the only way we can keep from freezing in winter." mr. rupert scarcely knew what he said. brydon looked at judith, who turned away, then answered: "i'll keep you from freezing, if you'll let me, you--and judith." "oh, please let us go into the house," judith said hastily. she saw the young doctor driving towards them out of the covered bridge! when brydon went to join his men far down the river he left a wife behind him at the bridge house, where she and her grandfather were to stay until the next summer. then there would be a journey from bamber's boom to a new home. in the late autumn he came, before he went away to the shanties in the backwoods, and again in the winter just before the babe was born. then he went far up the river to rice lake and beyond, to bring down the drives of logs for his company. june came, and then there was a sudden sorrow at the bridge house. how great it was, pierre's words as he stood at the door one evening will testify. he said to the young doctor: "save the child, and you shall have back the i o u on your house." which was also evidence that the young doctor had fallen into the habit of gambling. the young doctor looked hard at him. he had a selfish nature. "you can only do what you can do," he said. pierre's eyes were sinister. "if you do not save it, one would guess why." the other started, flushed, was silent, and then said: "you think i'm a coward. we shall see. there is a way, but it may fail." and though he sucked the diphtheria poison from the child's throat, it died the next night. still, the cottage that pierre and company had won was handed back with such good advice as only a worldwise adventurer can give. of the child's death its father did not know. they were not certain where he was. but when the mother took to her bed again, the young doctor said it was best that brydon should come. pierre had time and inclination to go for him. but before he went he was taken to judith's bedside. pierre had seen life and death in many forms, but never anything quite like this: a delicate creature floating away upon a summer current travelling in those valleys which are neither of this life nor of that; but where you hear the echoes of both, and are visited by solicitous spirits. there was no pain in her face--she heard a little, familiar voice from high and pleasant hills, and she knew, so wise are the dying, that her husband was travelling after her, and that they would be all together soon. but she did not speak of that. for the knowledge born of such a time is locked up in the soul. pierre was awe-stricken. unconsciously he crossed himself. "tell him to come quickly," she said, "if you find him,"--her fingers played with the coverlet,--"for i wish to comfort him. . . . someone said that you were bad, pierre. i do not believe it. you were sorry when my baby went away. i am--going away--too. but do not tell him that. tell him i cannot walk about. i want him to carry me--to carry me. will you?" pierre put out his hand to hers creeping along the coverlet to him; but it was only instinct that guided him, for he could not see. he started on his journey with his hat pulled down over his eyes. one evening when the river was very high and it was said that brydon's drives of logs would soon be down, a strange thing happened at the bridge house. the young doctor had gone, whispering to mr. rupert that he would come back later. he went out on tiptoe, as from the presence of an angel. his selfishness had dropped away from him. the evening wore on, and in the little back room a woman's voice said: "is it morning yet, father?" "it is still day. the sun has not set, my child." "i thought it had gone, it seemed so dark." "you have been asleep, judith. you have come out of the dark." "no, i have come out into the darkness--into the world." "you will see better when you are quite awake." "i wish i could see the river, father. will you go and look?" then there was a silence. "well?" she asked. "it is beautiful," he said, "and the sun is still bright." "you see as far as indian island?" "i can see the white comb of the reef beyond it, my dear." "and no one--is coming?" "there are men making for the shore, and the fires are burning, but no one is--coming this way. . . . he would come by the road, perhaps." "oh no, by the river. pierre has not found him. can you see the eddy?" "yes. it is all quiet there; nothing but the logs tossing round it." "we used to sit there--he and i--by the big cedar tree. everything was so cool and sweet. there was only the sound of the force-pump and the swallowing of the eddy. they say that a woman was drowned there, and that you can see her face in the water, if you happen there at sunrise, weeping and smiling also: a picture in the water. . . . do you think it true, father?" "life is so strange, and who knows what is not life, my child?" "when baby was dying i held it over the water beneath that window, where the sunshine falls in the evening; and it looked down once before its spirit passed like a breath over my face. maybe, its look will stay, for him to see when he comes. it was just below where you stand.... father, can you see its face?" "no, judith; nothing but the water and the sunshine." "dear, carry me to the window." when this was done she suddenly leaned forward with shining eyes and anxious fingers. "my baby! my baby!" she said. she looked up the river, but her eyes were fading, she could not see far. "it is all a grey light," she said, "i cannot see well." yet she smiled. "lay me down again, father," she whispered. after a little she sank into a slumber. all at once she started up. "the river, the beautiful river!" she cried out gently. then, at the last, "oh, my dear, my dear!" and so she came out of the valley into the high hills. later he was left alone with his dead. the young doctor and others had come and gone. he would watch till morning. he sat long beside her, numb to the world. at last he started, for he heard a low clear call behind the house. he went out quickly to the little platform, and saw through the dusk a man drawing himself up. it was brydon. he caught the old man's shoulders convulsively. "how is she?" he asked. "come in, my son," was the low reply. the old man saw a grief greater than his own. he led the husband to the room where the wife lay beautiful and still. "she is better, as you see," he said bravely. the hours went, and the two sat near the body, one on either side. they knew not what was going on in the world. as they mourned, pierre and the young doctor sat silent in that cottage on the hillside. they were roused at last. there came up to pierre's keen ears the sound of the river. "let us go out," he said; "the river is flooding. you can hear the logs." they came out and watched. the river went swishing, swilling past, and the dull boom of the logs as they struck the piers of the bridge or some building on the shore came rolling to them. "the dams and booms have burst!" pierre said. he pointed to the camps far up the river. by the light of the camp-fires there appeared a wide weltering flood of logs and debris. pierre's eyes shifted to the bridge house. in one room was a light. he stepped out and down, and the other followed. they had almost reached the shore, when pierre cried out sharply: "what's that?" he pointed to an indistinct mass bearing down upon the bridge house. it was a big shed that had been carried away, and, jammed between timbers, had not broken up. there was no time for warning. it came on swiftly, heavily. there was a strange, horrible, grinding sound, and then they saw the light of that one room move on, waving a little to and fro-on to the rapids, the cohorts of logs crowding hard after. where the light was two men had started to their feet when the crash came. they felt the house move. "run-save yourself!" cried the old man quietly. "we are lost!" the floor rocked. "go," he said again. "i will stay with her." "she is mine," brydon said; and he took her in his arms. "i will not go." they could hear the rapids below. the old man steadied himself in the deep water on the floor, and caught out yearningly at the cold hands. "come close, come close," said brydon. "closer; put your arms round her." the old man did so. they were locked in each other's arms--dead and living. the old man spoke, with a piteous kind of joy: "we therefore commit her body to the deep--!" the three were never found. the epaulettes old athabasca, chief of the little crees, sat at the door of his lodge, staring down into the valley where fort pentecost lay, and mitawawa his daughter sat near him, fretfully pulling at the fringe of her fine buckskin jacket. she had reason to be troubled. fyles the trader had put a great indignity upon athabasca. a factor of twenty years before, in recognition of the chief's merits and in reward of his services, had presented him with a pair of epaulettes, left in the fort by some officer in her majesty's service. a good, solid, honest pair of epaulettes, well fitted to stand the wear and tear of those high feasts and functions at which the chief paraded them upon his broad shoulders. they were the admiration of his own tribe, the wonder of others, the envy of many chiefs. it was said that athabasca wore them creditably, and was no more immobile and grand-mannered than became a chief thus honoured above his kind. but the years went, and there came a man to fort pentecost who knew not athabasca. he was young, and tall and strong, had a hot temper, knew naught of human nature, was possessed by a pride more masterful than his wisdom, and a courage stronger than his tact. he was ever for highhandedness, brooked no interference, and treated the indians more as company's serfs than as company's friends and allies. also, he had an eye for mitawawa, and found favour in return, though to what depth it took a long time to show. the girl sat high in the minds and desires of the young braves, for she had beauty of a heathen kind, a deft and dainty finger for embroidered buckskin, a particular fortune with a bow and arrow, and the fleetest foot. there were mutterings because fyles the white man came to sit often in athabasca's lodge. he knew of this, but heeded not at all. at last konto, a young brave who very accurately guessed at fyles' intentions, stopped him one day on the grey horse trail, and in a soft, indolent voice begged him to prove his regard in a fight without weapons, to the death, the survivor to give the other burial where he fell. fyles was neither fool nor coward. it would have been foolish to run the risk of leaving fort and people masterless for an indian's whim; it would have been cowardly to do nothing. so he whipped out a revolver, and bade his rival march before him to the fort; which konto very calmly did, begging the favour of a bit of tobacco as he went. fyles demanded of athabasca that he should sit in judgment, and should at least banish konto from his tribe, hinting the while that he might have to put a bullet into konto's refractory head if the thing were not done. he said large things in the name of the h.b.c., and was surprised that athabasca let them pass unmoved. but that chief, after long consideration, during which he drank company's coffee and ate company's pemmican, declared that he could do nothing: for konto had made a fine offer, and a grand chance of a great fight had been missed. this was in the presence of several petty officers and indians and woodsmen at the fort. fyles had vanity and a nasty temper. he swore a little, and with words of bluster went over and ripped the epaulettes from the chief's shoulders as a punishment, a mark of degradation. the chief said nothing. he got up, and reached out his hands as if to ask them back; and when fyles refused, he went away, drawing his blanket high over his shoulders. it was wont before to lie loosely about him, to show his badges of captaincy and alliance. this was about the time that the indians were making ready for the buffalo, and when their chief took to his lodge, and refused to leave it, they came to ask him why. and they were told. they were for making trouble, but the old chief said the quarrel was his own: he would settle it in his own way. he would not go to the hunt. konto, he said, should take his place; and when his braves came back there should be great feasting, for then the matter would be ended. half the course of the moon and more, and athabasca came out of his lodge--the first time in the sunlight since the day of his disgrace. he and his daughter sat silent and watchful at the door. there had been no word between fyles and athabasca, no word between mitawawa and fyles. the fort was well-nigh tenantless, for the half-breeds also had gone after buffalo, and only the trader, a clerk, and a half-breed cook were left. mitawawa gave a little cry of impatience: she had held her peace so long that even her slow indian nature could endure no more. "what will my father athabasca do?" she asked. "with idleness the flesh grows soft, and the iron melts from the arm." "but when the thoughts are stone, the body is as that of the mighty men of the kimash hills. when the bow is long drawn, beware the arrow." "it is no answer," she said: "what will my father do?" "they were of gold," he answered, "that never grew rusty. my people were full of wonder when they stood before me, and the tribes had envy as they passed. it is a hundred moons and one red midsummer moon since the great company put them on my shoulders. they were light to carry, but it was as if i bore an army. no other chief was like me. that is all over. when the tribes pass they will laugh, and my people will scorn me if i do not come out to meet them with the yokes of gold." "but what will my father do?" she persisted. "i have had many thoughts, and at night i have called on the spirits who rule. from the top of the hill of graves i have beaten the soft drum, and called, and sung the hymn which wakes the sleeping spirits: and i know the way." "what is the way?" her eyes filled with a kind of fear or trouble, and many times they shifted from the fort to her father, and back again. the chief was silent. then anger leapt into her face. "why does my father fear to speak to his child?" she said. "i will speak plain. i love the man: but i love my father also." she stood up, and drew her blanket about her, one hand clasped proudly on her breast. "i cannot remember my mother; but i remember when i first looked down from my hammock in the pine tree, and saw my father sitting by the fire. it was in the evening like this, but darker, for the pines made great shadows. i cried out, and he came and took me down, and laid me between his knees, and fed me with bits of meat from the pot. he talked much to me, and his voice was finer than any other. there is no one like my father--konto is nothing: but the voice of the white man, fyles, had golden words that our braves do not know, and i listened. konto did a brave thing. fyles, because he was a great man of the company, would not fight, and drove him like a dog. then he made my father as a worm in the eyes of the world. i would give my life for fyles the trader, but i would give more than my life to wipe out my father's shame, and to show that konto of the little crees is no dog. i have been carried by the hands of the old men of my people, i have ridden the horses of the young men: their shame is my shame." the eyes of the chief had never lifted from the fort: nor from his look could you have told that he heard his daughter's words. for a moment he was silent, then a deep fire came into his eyes, and his wide heavy brows drew up so that the frown of anger was gone. at last, as she waited, he arose, put out a hand and touched her forehead. "mitawawa has spoken well," he said. "there will be an end. the yokes of gold are mine: an honour given cannot be taken away. he has stolen; he is a thief. he would not fight konto: but i am a chief and he shall fight me. i am as great as many men--i have carried the golden yokes: we will fight for them. i thought long, for i was afraid my daughter loved the man more than her people: but now i will break him in pieces. has mitawawa seen him since the shameful day?" "he has come to the lodge, but i would not let him in unless he brought the epaulettes. he said he would bring them when konto was punished. i begged of him as i never begged of my own father, but he was hard as the ironwood tree. i sent him away. yet there is no tongue like his in the world; he is tall and beautiful, and has the face of a spirit." from the fort fyles watched the two. with a pair of field-glasses he could follow their actions, could almost read their faces. "there'll be a lot of sulking about those epaulettes, mallory," he said at last, turning to his clerk. "old athabasca has a bee in his bonnet." "wouldn't it be just as well to give 'em back, sir?" mallory had been at fort pentecost a long time, and he understood athabasca and his indians. he was a solid, slow-thinking old fellow, but he had that wisdom of the north which can turn from dove to serpent and from serpent to lion in the moment. "give 'em back, mallory? i'll see him in jericho first, unless he goes on his marrow-bones and kicks konto out of the camp." "very well, sir. but i think we'd better keep an eye open." "eye open, be hanged! if he'd been going to riot he'd have done so before this. besides, the girl--!" mallory looked long and earnestly at his master, whose forehead was glued to the field-glass. his little eyes moved as if in debate, his slow jaws opened once or twice. at last he said: "i'd give the girl the go-by, mr. fyles, if i was you, unless i meant to marry her." fyles suddenly swung round. "keep your place, blast you, mallory, and keep your morals too. one'd think you were a missionary." then with a sudden burst of anger: "damn it all, if my men don't stand by me against a pack of treacherous indians, i'd better get out." "your men will stand by you, sir: no fear. i've served three traders here, and my record is pretty clean, mr. fyles. but i'll say it to your face, whether you like it or not, that you're not as good a judge of the injin as me, or even duc the cook: and that's straight as i can say it, mr. fyles." fyles paced up and down in anger--not speaking; but presently threw up the glass, and looked towards athabasca's lodge. "they're gone," he said presently; "i'll go and see them to-morrow. the old fool must do what i want, or there'll be ructions." the moon was high over fort pentecost when athabasca entered the silent yard. the dogs growled, but indian dogs growl without reason, and no one heeds them. the old chief stood a moment looking at the windows, upon which slush-lights were throwing heavy shadows. he went to fyles' window: no one was in the room. he went to another: mallory and duc were sitting at a table. mallory had the epaulettes, looking at them and fingering the hooks by which athabasca had fastened them on. duc was laughing: he reached over for an epaulette, tossed it up, caught it and threw it down with a guffaw. then the door opened, and athabasca walked in, seized the epaulettes, and went swiftly out again. just outside the door mallory clapped a hand on one shoulder, and duc caught at the epaulettes. athabasca struggled wildly. all at once there was a cold white flash, and duc came huddling to mallory's feet. for a brief instant mallory and the indian fell apart, then athabasca with a contemptuous fairness tossed his knife away, and ran in on his man. they closed; strained, swayed, became a tangled wrenching mass; and then mallory was lifted high into the air, and came down with a broken back. athabasca picked up the epaulettes, and hurried away, breathing hard, and hugging them to his bare red-stained breast. he had nearly reached the gate when he heard a cry. he did not turn, but a heavy stone caught him high in the shoulders, and he fell on his face and lay clutching the epaulettes in his outstretched hands. fyles' own hands were yet lifted with the effort of throwing, when he heard the soft rush of footsteps, and someone came swiftly into his embrace. a pair of arms ran round his shoulders--lips closed with his-something ice-cold and hard touched his neck--he saw a bright flash at his throat. in the morning konto found mitawawa sitting with wild eyes by her father's body. she had fastened the epaulettes on its shoulders. fyles and his men made a grim triangle of death at the door of the fort. the house with the broken shutter "he stands in the porch of the world- (why should the door be shut?) the grey wolf waits at his heel, (why is the window barred?) wild is the trail from the kimash hills, the blight has fallen on bush and tree, the choking earth has swallowed the streams, hungry and cold is the red patrol: (why should the door be shut?) the scarlet hunter has come to bide- (why is the window barred?)" pierre stopped to listen. the voice singing was clear and soft, yet strong--a mezzo-soprano without any culture save that of practice and native taste. it had a singular charm--a sweet, fantastic sincerity. he stood still and fastened his eyes on the house, a few rods away. it stood on a knoll perching above fort ste. anne. years had passed since pierre had visited the fort, and he was now on his way to it again, after many wanderings. the house had stood here in the old days, and he remembered it very well, for against it john marcey, the company's man, was shot by stroke laforce, of the riders of the plains. looking now, he saw that the shutter, which had been pulled off to bear the body away, was hanging there just as he had placed it, with seven of its slats broken and a dark stain in one corner. something more of john marcey than memory attached to that shutter. his eyes dwelt on it long he recalled the scene: a night with stars and no moon, a huge bonfire to light the indians, at their dance, and marcey, laforce, and many others there, among whom was lucille, the little daughter of gyng the factor. marcey and laforce were only boys then, neither yet twenty-three, and they were friendly rivals with the sweet little coquette, who gave her favors with a singular impartiality and justice. once marcey had given her a gold spoon. laforce responded with a tiny, fretted silver basket. laforce was delighted to see her carrying her basket, till she opened it and showed the spoon inside. there were many mock quarrels, in one of which marcey sent her a letter by the company's courier, covered with great seals, saying, "i return you the hairpin, the egg-shell, and the white wolf's tooth. go to your laforce, or whatever his ridiculous name may be." in this way the pretty game ran on, the little goldenhaired, goldenfaced, golden-voiced child dancing so gayly in their hearts, but nestling in them too, after her wilful fashion, until the serious thing came--the tragedy. on the mad night when all ended, she was in the gayest, the most elf-like spirits. all went well until marcey dug a hole in the ground, put a stone in it, and, burying it, said it was laforce's heart. then laforce pretended to ventriloquise, and mocked marcey's slight stutter. that was the beginning of the trouble, and lucille, like any lady of the world, troubled at laforce's unkindness, tried to smooth things over--tried very gravely. but the playful rivalry of many months changed its composition suddenly as through some delicate yet powerful chemical action, and the savage in both men broke out suddenly. where motives and emotions are few they are the more vital, their action is the more violent. no one knew quite what the two young men said to each other, but presently, while the indian dance was on, they drew to the side of the house, and had their duel out in the half-shadows, no one knowing, till the shots rang on the night, and john marcey, without a cry, sprang into the air and fell face upwards, shot through the heart. they tried to take the child away, but she would not go; and when they carried marcey on the shutter she followed close by, resisting her father's wishes and commands. and just before they made a prisoner of laforce, she said to him very quietly--so like a woman she was--"i will give you back the basket, and the riding-whip, and the other things, and i will never forgive you--never--no, never!" stroke laforce had given himself up, had himself ridden to winnipeg, a thousand miles, and told his story. then the sergeant's stripes had been stripped from his arm, he had been tried, and on his own statement had got twelve years' imprisonment. ten years had passed since then-since marcey was put away in his grave, since pierre left fort ste. anne, and he had not seen it or lucille in all that time. but he knew that gyng was dead, and that his widow and her child had gone south or east somewhere; of laforce after his sentence he had never heard. he stood looking at the house from the shade of the solitary pine-tree near it, recalling every incident of that fatal night. he had the gift of looking at a thing in its true proportions, perhaps because he had little emotion and a strong brain, or perhaps because early in life his emotions were rationalised. presently he heard the voice again: "he waits at the threshold stone- (why should the key-hole rust?) the eagle broods at his side, (why should the blind be drawn?) long has he watched, and far has he called the lonely sentinel of the north: "who goes there?" to the wandering soul: heavy of heart is the red patrol (why should the key-hole rust?) the scarlet hunter is sick for home, (why should the blind be drawn?)" now he recognised the voice. its golden timbre brought back a young girl's golden face and golden hair. it was summer, and the window with the broken shutter was open. he was about to go to it, when a door of the house opened, and a girl appeared. she was tall, with rich, yellow hair falling loosely about her head; she had a strong, finely cut chin and a broad brow, under which a pair of deep blue eyes shone-violet blue, rare and fine. she stood looking down at the fort for a few moments, unaware of pierre's presence. but presently she saw him leaning against the tree, and she started as from a spirit. "monsieur!" she said--"pierre!" and stepped forward again from the doorway. he came to her, and "ah, p'tite lucille," he said, "you remember me, eh? --and yet so many years ago!" "but you remember me," she answered, "and i have changed so much!" "it is the man who should remember, the woman may forget if she will." pierre did not mean to pay a compliment; he was merely thinking. she made a little gesture of deprecation. "i was a child," she said. pierre lifted a shoulder slightly. "what matter? it is sex that i mean. what difference to me--five, or forty, or ninety? it is all sex. it is only lovers, the hunters of fire-flies, that think of age--mais oui!" she had a way of looking at you before she spoke, as though she were trying to find what she actually thought. she was one after pierre's own heart, and he knew it; but just here he wondered where all that ancient coquetry was gone, for there were no traces of it left; she was steady of eye, reposeful, rich in form and face, and yet not occupied with herself. he had only seen her for a minute or so, yet he was sure that what she was just now she was always, or nearly so, for the habits of a life leave their mark, and show through every phase of emotion and incident whether it be light or grave. "i think i understand you," she said. "i think i always did a little, from the time you stayed with grah the idiot at fort o' god, and fought the indians when the others left. only--men said bad things of you, and my father did not like you, and you spoke so little to me ever. yet i mind how you used to sit and watch me, and i also mind when you rode the man down who stole my pony, and brought them both back." pierre smiled--he was pleased at this. "ah, my young friend," he said, "i do not forget that either, for though he had shaved my ear with a bullet, you would not have him handed over to the riders of the plains --such a tender heart!" her eyes suddenly grew wide. she was childlike in her amazement, indeed, childlike in all ways, for she was very sincere. it was her great advantage to live where nothing was required of her but truth, she had not suffered that sickness, social artifice. "i never knew," she said, "that he had shot at you--never! you did not tell that." "there is a time for everything--the time for that was not till now." "what could i have done then?" "you might have left it to me. i am not so pious that i can't be merciful to the sinner. but this man--this brickney--was a vile scoundrel always, and i wanted him locked up. i would have shot him myself, but i was tired of doing the duty of the law. yes, yes," he added, as he saw her smile a little. "it is so. i have love for justice, even i, pretty pierre. why not justice on myself? ha! the law does not its duty. and maybe some day i shall have to do its work on myself. some are coaxed out of life, some are kicked out, and some open the doors quietly for themselves, and go a-hunting outside." "they used to talk as if one ought to fear you," she said, "but"--she looked him straight in the eyes--"but maybe that's because you've never hid any badness." "it is no matter, anyhow," he answered. "i live in the open, i walk in the open road, and i stand by what i do to the open law and the gospel. it is my whim--every man to his own saddle." "it is ten years," she said abruptly. "ten years less five days," he answered as sententiously. "come inside," she said quietly, and turned to the door. without a word he turned also, but instead of going direct to the door came and touched the broken shutter and the dark stain on one corner with a delicate forefinger. out of the corner of his eye he could see her on the doorstep, looking intently. he spoke as if to himself: "it has not been touched since then--no. it was hardly big enough for him, so his legs hung over. ah, yes, ten years- abroad, john marcey!" then, as if still musing, he turned to the girl: "he had no father or mother--no one, of course; so that it wasn't so bad after all. if you've lived with the tongue in the last hole of the buckle as you've gone, what matter when you go! c'est egal --it is all the same." her face had become pale as he spoke, but no muscle stirred; only her eyes filled with a deeper color, and her hand closed tightly on the doorjamb. "come in, pierre," she said, and entered. he followed her. "my mother is at the fort," she added, "but she will be back soon." she placed two chairs not far from the open door. they sat, and pierre slowly rolled a cigarette and lighted it. "how long have you lived here?" he asked presently. "it is seven years since we came first," she replied. "after that night they said the place was haunted, and no one would live in it, but when my father died my mother and i came for three years. then we went east, and again came back, and here we have been." "the shutter?" pierre asked. they needed few explanations--their minds were moving with the same thought. "i would not have it changed, and of course no one cared to touch it. so it has hung there." "as i placed it ten years ago," he said. they both became silent for a time, and at last he said: "marcey had no one,--sergeant laforce a mother." "it killed his mother," she whispered, looking into the white sunlight. she was noting how it was flashed from the bark of the birch-trees near the fort. "his mother died," she added again, quietly. "it killed her--the gaol for him!" "an eye for an eye," he responded. "do you think that evens john marcey's death?" she sighed. "as far as marcey's concerned," he answered. "laforce has his own reckoning besides." "it was not a murder," she urged. "it was a fair fight," he replied firmly, "and laforce shot straight." he was trying to think why she lived here, why the broken shutter still hung there, why the matter had settled so deeply on her. he remembered the song she was singing, the legend of the scarlet hunter, the fabled savior of the north. "heavy of heart is the red patrol- (why should the key-hole rust?) the scarlet hunter is sick for home, (why should the blind be drawn?)" he repeated the words, lingering on them. he loved to come at the truth of things by allusive, far-off reflections, rather than by the sharp questioning of the witness-box. he had imagination, refinement in such things. a light dawned on him as he spoke the words--all became clear. she sang of the scarlet hunter, but she meant someone else! that was it- "hungry and cold is the red patrol- (why should the door be shut?) the scarlet hunter has come to bide, (why is the window barred?)" but why did she live here? to get used to a thought, to have it so near her, that if the man--if laforce himself came, she would have herself schooled to endure the shadow and the misery of it all? ah, that was it! the little girl, who had seen her big lover killed, who had said she would never forgive the other, who had sent him back the fretted-silver basket, the riding-whip, and other things, had kept the criminal in her mind all these years; had, out of her childish coquetry, grown into-what? as a child she had been wise for her years--almost too wise. what had happened? she had probably felt sorrow for laforce at first, and afterwards had shown active sympathy, and at last--no, he felt that she had not quite forgiven him, that, whatever was, she had not hidden the criminal in her heart. but why did she sing that song? her heart was pleading for him--for the criminal. had she and her mother gone to winnipeg to be near laforce, to comfort him? was laforce free now, and was she unwilling? it was so strange that she should thus have carried on her childhood into her womanhood. but he guessed her--she had imagination. "his mother died in my arms in winnipeg," she said abruptly at last. "i'm glad i was some comfort to her. you see, it all came through me-i was so young and spoiled and silly--john marcey's death, her death, and his long years in prison. even then i knew better than to set the one against the other. must a child not be responsible? i was--i am!" "and so you punish yourself?" "it was terrible for me--even as a child. i said that i could never forgive, but when his mother died, blessing me, i did. then there came something else." "you saw him, there amie?" "i saw him--so changed, so quiet, so much older--all grey at the temples. at first i lived here that i might get used to the thought of the thing --to learn to bear it; and afterwards that i might learn--" she paused, looking in half-doubt at pierre. "it is safe; i am silent," he said. "that i might learn to bear--him," she continued. "is he still--" pierre paused. she spoke up quickly. "oh no, he has been free two years." "where is he now?" "i don't know." she waited for a minute, then said again, "i don't know. when he was free, he came to me, but i--i could not. he thought, too, that because he had been in gaol, that i wouldn't--be his wife. he didn't think enough of himself, he didn't urge anything. and i wasn't ready--no--no--no--how could i be! i didn't care so much about the gaol, but he had killed john marcey. the gaol--what was that to me! there was no real shame in it unless he had done a mean thing. he had been wicked --not mean. killing is awful, but not shameful. think--the difference-if he had been a thief!" pierre nodded. "then some one should have killed him!" he said. "well, after?" "after--after--ah, he went away for a year. then he came back; but no, i was always thinking of that night i walked behind john marcey's body to the fort. so he went away again, and we came here, and here we have lived." "he has not come here?" "no; once from the far north he sent me a letter by an indian, saying that he was going with a half-breed to search for a hunting party, an english gentleman and two men who were lost. the name of one of the men was brickney." pierre stopped short in a long whiffing of smoke. "holy!" he said, "that thief brickney again. he would steal the broad road to hell if he could carry it. he once stole the quarters from a dead man's eyes. mon dieu! to save brickney's life, the courage to do that--like sticking your face in the mire and eating!--but, pshaw!--go on, p'tite lucille." "there is no more. i never heard again." "how long was that ago?" "nine months or more." "nothing has been heard of any of them?" "nothing at all. the englishman belonged to the hudson's bay company, but they have heard nothing down here at fort ste. anne." "if he saves the company's man, that will make up the man he lost for them, eh--you think that, eh?" pierre's eyes had a curious ironical light. "i do not care for the company," she said. "john marcey's life was his own." "good!" he added quickly, and his eyes admired her. "that is the thing. then, do not forget that marcey took his life in his hands himself, that he would have killed laforce if laforce hadn't killed him." "i know, i know," she said, "but i should have felt the same if john marcey had killed stroke laforce." "it is a pity to throw your life away," he ventured. he said this for a purpose. he did not think she was throwing it away. she was watching a little knot of horsemen coming over a swell of the prairie far off. she withdrew her eyes and fixed them on pierre. "do you throw your life away if you do what is the only thing you are told to do?" she placed her hand on her heart--that had been her one guide. pierre got to his feet, came over, and touched her on the shoulder. "you have the great secret," he said quietly. "the thing may be all wrong to others, but if it's right to yourself--that's it--mais oui! if he comes," he added "if he comes back, think of him as well as marcey. marcey is sleeping--what does it matter? if he is awake, he has better times, for he was a man to make another world sociable. think of laforce, for he has his life to live, and he is a man to make this world sociable. 'the scarlet hunter is sick for home- (why should the door be shut?)'" her eyes had been following the group of horsemen on the plains. she again fixed them on pierre, and stood up. "it is a beautiful legend--that," she said. "but?--but?" he asked. she would not answer him. "you will come again," she said; "you will-help me?" "surely, p'tite lucille, surely, i will come. but to help--ah, that would sound funny to the missionary at the fort and to others!" "you understand life," she said, "and i can speak to you." "it's more to you to understand you than to be good, eh?" "i guess it's more to any woman," she answered. they both passed out of the house. she turned towards the broken shutter. then their eyes met. a sad little smile hovered at her lips. "what is the use?" she said, and her eyes fastened on the horsemen. he knew now that she would never shudder again at the sight of it, or at the remembrance of marcey's death. "but he will come," was the reply to her, and her smile almost settled and stayed. they parted, and as he went down the hill he saw far over, coming up, a woman in black, who walked as if she carried a great weight. "every shot that kills ricochets," he said to himself: "his mother dead--her mother like that!" he passed into the fort, renewing acquaintances in the company's store, and twenty minutes after he was one to greet the horsemen that lucille had seen coming over the hills. they were five, and one had to be helped from his horse. it was stroke laforce, who had been found near dead at the metal river by a party of men exploring in the north. he had rescued the englishman and his party, but within a day of the finding the englishman died, leaving him his watch, a ring, and a cheque on the h. b. c. at winnipeg. he and the two survivors, one of whom was brickney, started south. one night brickney robbed him and made to get away, and on his seizing the thief he was wounded. then the other man came to his help and shot brickney: after that weeks of wandering, and at last rescue and fort ste. anne. a half-hour after this pierre left laforce on the crest of the hill above the fort, and did not turn to go down till he had seen the other pass within the house with the broken shutter. and later he saw a little bonfire on the hill. the next evening he came to the house again himself. lucille rose to meet him. "'why should the door be shut?"' he quoted smiling. "the door is open," she answered quickly and with a quiet joy. he turned to the motion of her hand, and saw laforce asleep on a couch. soon afterwards, as he passed from the house, he turned towards the window. the broken shutter was gone. he knew now the meaning of the bonfire the night before. the finding of fingall "fingall! fingall!--oh, fingall!" a grey mist was rising from the river, the sun was drinking it delightedly, the swift blue water showed underneath it, and the top of whitefaced mountain peaked the mist by a hand-length. the river brushed the banks like rustling silk, and the only other sound, very sharp and clear in the liquid monotone, was the crack of a woodpecker's beak on a hickory tree. it was a sweet, fresh autumn morning in lonesome valley. before night the deer would bellow reply to the hunters' rifles, and the mountain-goat call to its unknown gods; but now there was only the wild duck skimming the river, and the high hilltop rising and fading into the mist, the ardent sun, and again that strange cry-"fingall!--oh, fingall! fingall!" two men, lounging at a fire on a ledge of the hills, raised their eyes to the mountain-side beyond and above them, and one said presently: "the second time. it's a woman's voice, pierre." pierre nodded, and abstractedly stirred the coals about with a twig. "well, it is a pity--the poor cynthie," he said at last. "it is a woman, then. you know her, pierre--her story?" "fingall! fingall!--oh, fingall!" pierre raised his head towards the sound; then after a moment, said: "i know fingall." "and the woman? tell me." "and the girl. fingall was all fire and heart, and devil-may-care. she--she was not beautiful except in the eye, but that was like a flame of red and blue. her hair, too--then--would trip her up, if it hung loose. that was all, except that she loved him too much. but women-et puis, when a woman gets a man between her and the heaven above and the earth beneath, and there comes the great hunger, what is the good! a man cannot understand, but he can see, and he can fear. what is the good! to play with life, that is not much; but to play with a soul is more than a thousand lives. look at cynthie." he paused, and lawless waited patiently. presently pierre continued: fingall was gentil; he would take off his hat to a squaw. it made no difference what others did; he didn't think--it was like breathing to him. how can you tell the way things happen? cynthie's father kept the tavern at st. gabriel's fork, over against the great saw-mill. fingall was foreman of a gang in the lumberyard. cynthie had a brother--fenn. fenn was as bad as they make, but she loved him, and fingall knew it well, though he hated the young skunk. the girl's eyes were like two little fire-flies when fingall was about. "he was a gentleman, though he had only half a name--fingall--like that. i think he did not expect to stay; he seemed to be waiting for something --always when the mail come in he would be there; and afterwards you wouldn't see him for a time. so it seemed to me that he made up his mind to think nothing of cynthie, and to say nothing." "fingall! fingall!--oh, fingall!" the strange, sweet, singing voice sounded nearer. "she's coming this way, pierre," said lawless. "i hope not to see her. what is the good!" "well, let us have the rest of the story." "her brother fenn was in fingall's gang. one day there was trouble. fenn called fingall a liar. the gang stopped piling; the usual thing did not come. fingall told him to leave the yard, and they would settle some other time. that night a wicked thing happened. we were sitting in the bar-room when we heard two shots and then a fall. we ran into the other room; there was fenn on the floor, dying. he lifted himself on his elbow, pointed at fingall--and fell back. the father of the boy stood white and still a few feet away. there was no pistol showing--none at all. "the men closed in on fingall. he did not stir--he seemed to be thinking of something else. he had a puzzled, sorrowful look. the men roared round him, but he waved them back for a moment, and looked first at the father, then at the son. i could not understand at first. someone pulled a pistol out of fingall's pocket and showed it. at that moment cynthie came in. she gave a cry. by the holy! i do not want to hear a cry like that often. she fell on her knees beside the boy, and caught his head to her breast. then with a wild look she asked who did it. they had just taken fingall out into the bar-room. they did not tell her his name, for they knew that she loved him. "'father,' she said all at once, 'have you killed the man that killed fenn?' "the old man shook his head. there was a sick colour in his face. "'then i will kill him,' she said. "she laid her brother's head down, and stood up. someone put in her hand the pistol, and told her it was the same that had killed fenn. she took it, and came with us. the old man stood still where he was; he was like stone. i looked at him for a minute and thought; then i turned round and went to the bar-room; and he followed. just as i got inside the door, i saw the girl start back, and her hand drop, for she saw that it was fingall; he was looking at her very strange. it was the rule to empty the gun into a man who had been sentenced; and already fingall had heard his, 'god-have-mercy!' the girl was to do it. "fingall said to her in a muffled voice, 'fire--cynthie!' "i guessed what she would do. in a kind of a dream she raised the pistol up--up--up, till i could see it was just out of range of his head, and she fired. one! two! three! four! five! fingall never moved a muscle; but the bullets spotted the wall at the side of his head. she stopped after the five; but the arm was still held out, and her finger was on the trigger; she seemed to be all dazed. only six chambers were in the gun, and of course one chamber was empty. fenn had its bullet in his lungs, as we thought. so someone beside cynthie touched her arm, pushing it down. but there was another shot, and this time, because of the push, the bullet lodged in fingall's skull." pierre paused now, and waved with his hand towards the mist which hung high up like a canopy between the hills. "but," said lawless, not heeding the scene, "what about that sixth bullet?" "holy, it is plain! fingall did not fire the shot. his revolver was full, every chamber, when cynthie first took it." "who killed the lad?" "can you not guess? there had been words between the father and the boy: both had fierce blood. the father, in a mad minute, fired; the boy wanted revenge on fingall, and, to save his father, laid it on the other. the old man? well, i do not know whether he was a coward, or stupid, or ashamed--he let fingall take it." "fingall took it to spare the girl, eh?" "for the girl. it wasn't good for her to know her father killed his own son." "what came after?" "the worst. that night the girl's father killed himself, and the two were buried in the same grave. cynthie--" "fingall! fingall!--oh, fingall!" "you hear? yes, like that all the time as she sat on the floor, her hair about her like a cloud, and the dead bodies in the next room. she thought she had killed fingall, and she knew now that he was innocent. the two were buried. then we told her that fingall was not dead. she used to come and sit outside the door, and listen to his breathing, and ask if he ever spoke of her. what was the good of lying? if we said he did, she'd have come in to him, and that would do no good, for he wasn't right in his mind. by and by we told her he was getting well, and then she didn't come, but stayed at home, just saying his name over to herself. alors, things take hold of a woman--it is strange! when fingall was strong enough to go out, i went with him the first time. he was all thin and handsome as you can think, but he had no memory, and his eyes were like a child's. she saw him, and came out to meet him. what does a woman care for the world when she loves a man? well, he just looked at her as if he'd never seen her before, and passed by without a sign, though afterwards a trouble came in his face. three days later he was gone, no one knew where. that is two years ago. ever since she has been looking for him." "is she mad?" "mad? holy mother! it is not good to have one thing in the head all the time! what do you think? so much all at once! and then--" "hush, pierre! there she is!" said lawless, pointing to a ledge of rock not far away. the girl stood looking out across the valley, a weird, rapt look in her face, her hair falling loose, a staff like a shepherd's crook in one hand, the other hand over her eyes as she slowly looked from point to point of the horizon. the two watched her without speaking. presently she saw them. she gazed at them for a minute, then descended to them. lawless and pierre rose, doffing their hats. she looked at both a moment, and her eyes settled on pierre. presently she held out her hand to him. "i knew you--yesterday," she said. pierre returned the intensity of her gaze with one kind and strong. "so--so, cynthie," he said; "sit down and eat." he dropped on a knee and drew a scone and some fish from the ashes. she sat facing them, and, taking from a bag at her side some wild fruits, ate slowly, saying nothing. lawless noticed that her hair had become grey at her temples, though she was but one-and-twenty years old. her face, brown as it was, shone with a white kind of light, which may, or may not, have come from the crucible of her eyes, where the tragedy of her life was fusing. lawless could not bear to look long, for the fire that consumes a body and sets free a soul is not for the sight of the quick. at last she rose, her body steady, but her hands having that tremulous activity of her eyes. "will you not stay, cynthie?" asked lawless very kindly. she came close to him, and, after searching his eyes, said with a smile that almost hurt him, "when i have found him, i will bring him to your camp-fire. last night the voice said that he waits for me where the mist rises from the river at daybreak, close to the home of the white swan. do you know where is the home of the white swan? before the frost comes and the red wolf cries, i must find him. winter is the time of sleep. "i will give him honey and dried meat. i know where we shall live together. you never saw such roses! hush! i have a place where we can hide." suddenly her gaze became fixed and dream-like, and she said slowly: "in all time of our tribulation, in all time of our wealth, in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, good lord, deliver us!" "good lord, deliver us!" repeated lawless in a low voice. without looking at them, she slowly turned away and passed up the hill-side, her eyes scanning the valley as before. "good lord, deliver us!" again said lawless. "where did she get it?" "from a book which fingall left behind." they watched her till she rounded a cliff, and was gone; then they shouldered their kits and passed up the river on the trail of the wapiti. one month later, when a fine white surf of frost lay on the ground, and the sky was darkened often by the flight of the wild geese southward, they came upon a hut perched on a bluff, at the edge of a clump of pines. it was morning, and whitefaced mountain shone clear and high, without a touch of cloud or mist from its haunches to its crown. they knocked at the hut door, and, in answer to a voice, entered. the sunlight streamed in over a woman, lying upon a heap of dried flowers in a corner. a man was kneeling beside her. they came near, and saw that the woman was cynthie. "fingall!" broke out pierre, and caught the kneeling man by the shoulder. at the sound of his voice the woman's eyes opened. "fingall!--oh, fingall!" she said, and reached up a hand. fingall stooped and caught her to his breast: "cynthie! poor girl! oh, my poor cynthie!" he said. in his eyes, as in hers, was a sane light, and his voice, as hers, said indescribable things. her head sank upon his shoulder, her eyes closed; she slept. fingall laid her down with a sob in his throat; then he sat up and clutched pierre's hand. "in the east, where the doctors cured me, i heard all," he said, pointing to her, "and i came to find her. i was just in time; i found her yesterday." "she knew you?" whispered pierre. "yes, but this fever came on." he turned and looked at her, and, kneeling, smoothed away the hair from the quiet face. "poor girl!" he said; "poor girl!" "she will get well?" asked pierre. "god grant it!" fingall replied. "she is better--better." lawless and pierre softly turned and stole away, leaving the man alone with the woman he loved. the two stood in silence, looking upon the river beneath. presently a voice crept through the stillness. "fingall! oh, fingall!--fingall!" it was the voice of a woman returning from the dead. three commandments in the vulgar tongue i "read on, pierre," the sick man said, doubling the corner of the wolfskin pillow so that it shaded his face from the candle. pierre smiled to himself, thinking of the unusual nature of his occupation, raised an eyebrow as if to someone sitting at the other side of the fire,--though the room was empty save for the two--and went on reading: "woe to the multitude of many people, which make a noise like the noise of the seas; and to the rushing of nations, that make a rushing like the rushing of mighty waters! "the nations shall rush like the rushing of many waters: but god shall rebuke them, and they shall flee far off, and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind. "and behold at evening-tide trouble; and before the morning he is not. this is the portion of them that spoil us, and the lot of them that rob us." the sick man put up his hand, motioning for silence, and pierre, leaving the bible open, laid it at his side. then he fell to studying the figure on the couch. the body, though reduced by a sudden illness, had an appearance of late youth, a firmness of mature manhood; but the hair was grey, the beard was grizzled, and the face was furrowed and seamed as though the man had lived a long, hard life. the body seemed thirty years old, the head sixty; the man's exact age was forty-five. his most singular characteristic was a fine, almost spiritual intelligence, which showed in the dewy brightness of the eye, in the lighted face, in the cadenced definiteness of his speech. one would have said, knowing nothing of him, that he was a hermit; but again, noting the firm, graceful outlines of his body, that he was a soldier. within the past twenty-four hours he had had a fight for life with one of the terrible "colds" which, like an unstayed plague, close up the courses of the body, and carry a man out of the hurly-burly, without pause to say how much or how little he cares to go. pierre, whose rude skill in medicine was got of hard experiences here and there, had helped him back into the world again, and was himself now a little astonished at acting as scripture reader to a protestant invalid. still, the bible was like his childhood itself, always with him in memory, and old testament history was as wine to his blood. the lofty tales sang in his veins: of primitive man, adventure, mysterious and exalted romance. for nearly an hour, with absorbing interest, he had read aloud from these ancient chronicles to fawdor, who held this post of the hudson's bay company in the outer wilderness. pierre had arrived at the post three days before, to find a half-breed trapper and an indian helpless before the sickness which was hurrying to close on john fawdor's heart and clamp it in the vice of death. he had come just in time. he was now ready to learn, by what ways the future should show, why this man, of such unusual force and power, should have lived at a desolate post in labrador for twenty-five years. "'this is the portion of them that spoil us, and the lot of them that rob us--'" fawdor repeated the words slowly, and then said: "it is good to be out of the restless world. do you know the secret of life, pierre?" pierre's fingers unconsciously dropped on the bible at his side, drumming the leaves. his eyes wandered over fawdor's face, and presently he answered, "to keep your own commandments." "the ten?" asked the sick man, pointing to the bible. pierre's fingers closed the book. "not the ten, for they do not fit all; but one by one to make your own, and never to break--comme ca!" "the answer is well," returned fawdor; "but what is the greatest commandment that a man can make for himself?" "who can tell? what is the good of saying, 'thou shalt keep holy the sabbath day,' when a man lives where he does not know the days? what is the good of saying, 'thou shalt not steal,' when a man has no heart to rob, and there is nothing to steal? but a man should have a heart, an eye for justice. it is good for him to make his commandments against that wherein he is a fool or has a devil. justice,--that is the thing." "'thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour'?" asked fawdor softly. "yes, like that. but a man must put it in his own words, and keep the law which he makes. then life does not give a bad taste in the mouth." "what commandments have you made for yourself, pierre?" the slumbering fire in pierre's face leaped up. he felt for an instant as his father, a chevalier of france, might have felt if a peasant had presumed to finger the orders upon his breast. it touched his native pride, so little shown in anything else. but he knew the spirit behind the question, and the meaning justified the man. "thou shalt think with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one woman," he said, and paused. "justice and mercy," murmured the voice from the bed. "thou shalt keep the faith of food and blanket." again pierre paused. "and a man shall have no cause to fear his friend," said the voice again. the pause was longer this time, and pierre's cold, handsome face took on a kind of softness before he said, "remember the sorrow of thine own wife." "it is a good commandment," said the sick man, "to make all women safe whether they be true--or foolish." "the strong should be ashamed to prey upon the weak. pshaw! such a sport ends in nothing. man only is man's game." suddenly pierre added: "when you thought you were going to die, you gave me some papers and letters to take to quebec. you will get well. shall i give them back? will you take them yourself?" fawdor understood: pierre wished to know his story. he reached out a hand, saying, "i will take them myself. you have not read them?" "no. i was not to read them till you died--bien?" he handed the packet over. "i will tell you the story," fawdor said, turning over on his side, so that his eyes rested full on pierre. he did not begin at once. an esquimau dog, of the finest and yet wildest breed, which had been lying before the fire, stretched itself, opened its red eyes at the two men, and, slowly rising, went to the door and sniffed at the cracks. then it turned, and began pacing restlessly around the room. every little while it would stop, sniff the air, and go on again. once or twice, also, as it passed the couch of the sick man, it paused, and at last it suddenly rose, rested two feet on the rude headboard of the couch, and pushed its nose against the invalid's head. there was something rarely savage and yet beautifully soft in the dog's face, scarred as it was by the whips of earlier owners. the sick man's hand went up and caressed the wolfish head. "good dog, good akim!" he said softly in french. "thou dost know when a storm is on the way; thou dost know, too, when there is a storm in my heart." even as he spoke a wind came crying round the house, and the parchment windows gave forth a soft booming sound. outside, nature was trembling lightly in all her nerves; belated herons, disturbed from the freshly frozen pool, swept away on tardy wings into the night and to the south; a herd of wolves, trooping by the hut, passed from a short, easy trot to a low, long gallop, devouring, yet fearful. it appeared as though the dumb earth were trying to speak, and the mighty effort gave it pain, from which came awe and terror to living things. so, inside the house, also, pierre almost shrank from the unknown sorrow of this man beside him, who was about to disclose the story of his life. the solitary places do not make men glib of tongue; rather, spare of words. they whose tragedy lies in the capacity to suffer greatly, being given the woe of imagination, bring forth inner history as a mother gasps life into the world. "i was only a boy of twenty-one," fawdor said from the pillow, as he watched the dog noiselessly travelling from corner to corner, "and i had been with the company three years. they had said that i could rise fast; i had done so. i was ambitious; yet i find solace in thinking that i saw only one way to it,--by patience, industry, and much thinking. i read a great deal, and cared for what i read; but i observed also, that in dealing with men i might serve myself and the company wisely. "one day the governor of the company came from england, and with him a sweet lady, his young niece, and her brother. they arranged for a tour to the great lakes, and i was chosen to go with them in command of the boatmen. it appeared as if a great chance had come to me, and so said the factor at lachine on the morning we set forth. the girl was as winsome as you can think; not of such wonderful beauty, but with a face that would be finer old than young; and a dainty trick of humour had she as well. the governor was a testy man; he could not bear to be crossed in a matter; yet, in spite of all, i did not think he had a wilful hardness. it was a long journey, and we were set to our wits to make it always interesting; but we did it somehow, for there were fishing and shooting, and adventure of one sort and another, and the lighter things, such as singing and the telling of tales, as the boatmen rowed the long river. "we talked of many things as we travelled, and i was glad to listen to the governor, for he had seen and read much. it was clear he liked to have us hang upon his tales and his grand speeches, which seemed a little large in the mouth; and his nephew, who had a mind for raillery, was now and again guilty of some witty impertinence; but this was hard to bring home to him, for he could assume a fine childlike look when he pleased, confusing to his accusers. towards the last he grew bolder, and said many a biting thing to both the governor and myself, which more than once turned his sister's face pale with apprehension, for she had a nice sense of kindness. whenever the talk was at all general, it was his delight to turn one against the other. though i was wary, and the girl understood his game, at last he had his way. "i knew shakespeare and the bible very well, and, like most bookish young men, phrase and motto were much on my tongue, though not always given forth. one evening, as we drew to the camp-fire, a deer broke from the woods and ran straight through the little circle we were making, and disappeared in the bushes by the riverside. someone ran for a rifle; but the governor forbade, adding, with an air, a phrase with philosophical point. i, proud of the chance to show i was not a mere backwoodsman at such a sport, capped his aphorism with a line from shakespeare's cymbeline. "'tut, tut!' said the governor smartly; 'you haven't it well, mr. fawdor; it goes this way,' and he went on to set me right. his nephew at that stepped in, and, with a little disdainful laugh at me, made some galling gibe at my 'distinguished learning.' i might have known better than to let it pique me, but i spoke up again, though respectfully enough, that i was not wrong. it appeared to me all at once as if some principle were at stake, as if i were the champion of our shakespeare; so will vanity delude us. "the governor--i can see it as if it were yesterday--seemed to go like ice, for he loved to be thought infallible in all such things as well as in great business affairs, and his nephew was there to give an edge to the matter. he said, curtly, that i would probably come on better in the world if i were more exact and less cock-a-hoop with myself. that stung me, for not only was the young lady looking on with a sort of superior pity, as i thought, but her brother was murmuring to her under his breath with a provoking smile. i saw no reason why i should be treated like a schoolboy. as far as my knowledge went it was as good as another man's, were he young or old, so i came in quickly with my reply. i said that his excellency should find me more cock-a-hoop with shakespeare than with myself. 'well, well,' he answered, with a severe look, 'our company has need of great men for hard tasks.' to this i made no answer, for i got a warning look from the young lady,--a look which had a sort of reproach and command too. she knew the twists and turns of her uncle's temper, and how he was imperious and jealous in little things. the matter dropped for the time; but as the governor was going to his tent for the night, the young lady said to me hurriedly, 'my uncle is a man of great reading--and power, mr. fawdor. i would set it right with him, if i were you.' for the moment i was ashamed. you cannot guess how fine an eye she had, and how her voice stirred one! she said no more, but stepped inside her tent; and then i heard the brother say over my shoulder, 'oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud!' afterwards, with a little laugh and a backward wave of the hand, as one might toss a greeting to a beggar, he was gone also, and i was left alone." fawdor paused in his narrative. the dog had lain down by the fire again, but its red eyes were blinking at the door, and now and again it growled softly, and the long hair at its mouth seemed to shiver with feeling. suddenly through the night there rang a loud, barking cry. the dog's mouth opened and closed in a noiseless snarl, showing its keen, long teeth, and a ridge of hair bristled on its back. but the two men made no sign or motion. the cry of wild cats was no new thing to them. presently the other continued: "i sat by the fire and heard beasts howl like that, i listened to the river churning over the rapids below, and i felt all at once a loneliness that turned me sick. there were three people in a tent near me; i could even hear the governor's breathing; but i appeared to have no part in the life of any human being, as if i were a kind of outlaw of god and man. i was poor; i had no friends; i was at the mercy of this great company; if i died, there was not a human being who, so far as i knew, would shed a tear. well, you see i was only a boy, and i suppose it was the spirit of youth hungering for the huge, active world and the companionship of ambitious men. there is no one so lonely as the young dreamer on the brink of life. "i was lying by the fire. it was not a cold night, and i fell asleep at last without covering. i did not wake till morning, and then it was to find the governor's nephew building up the fire again. 'those who are born great,' said he, 'are bound to rise.' but perhaps he saw that i had had a bad night, and felt that he had gone far enough, for he presently said, in a tone more to my liking, 'take my advice, mr. fawdor; make it right with my uncle. it isn't such fast rising in the company that you can afford to quarrel with its governor. i'd go on the other tack: don't be too honest.' i thanked him, and no more was said; but i liked him better, for i saw that he was one of those who take pleasure in dropping nettles more to see the weakness of human nature than from malice. "but my good fortune had got a twist, and it was not to be straightened that day; and because it was not straightened then it was not to be at all; for at five o'clock we came to the post at lachine, and here the governor and the others were to stop. during all the day i had waited for my chance to say a word of apology to his excellency, but it was no use; nothing seemed to help me, for he was busy with his papers and notes, and i also had to finish up my reports. the hours went by, and i saw my chances drift past. i knew that the governor held the thing against me, and not the less because he saw me more than once that day in speech with his niece. for she appeared anxious to cheer me, and indeed i think we might have become excellent friends had our ways run together. she could have bestowed her friendship on me without shame to herself, for i had come of an old family in scotland, the sheplaws of canfire, which she knew, as did the governor also, was a more ancient family than their own. yet her kindness that day worked me no good, and i went far to make it worse, since, under the spell of her gentleness, i looked at her far from distantly, and at the last, as she was getting from the boat, returned the pressure of her hand with much interest. i suppose something of the pride of that moment leaped up in my eye, for i saw the governor's face harden more and more, and the brother shrugged an ironical shoulder. i was too young to see or know that the chief thing in the girl's mind was regret that i had so hurt my chances; for she knew, as i saw only too well afterwards, that i might have been rewarded with a leaping promotion in honour of the success of the journey. but though the boatmen got a gift of money and tobacco and spirits, nothing came to me save the formal thanks of the governor, as he bowed me from his presence. "the nephew came with his sister to bid me farewell. there was little said between her and me, and it was a long, long time before she knew the end of that day's business. but the brother said, 'you've let, the chance go by, mr. fawdor. better luck next time, eh? and,' he went on, 'i'd give a hundred editions the lie, but i'd read the text according to my chief officer. the words of a king are always wise while his head is on,' he declared further, and he drew from his scarf a pin of pearls and handed it to me. 'will you wear that for me, mr. fawdor?' he asked; and i, who had thought him but a stripling with a saucy pride, grasped his hand and said a god-keep-you. it does me good now to think i said it. i did not see him or his sister again. "the next day was sunday. about two o'clock i was sent for by the governor. when i got to the post and was admitted to him, i saw that my misadventure was not over. 'mr. fawdor,' said he coldly, spreading out a map on the table before him, 'you will start at once for fort ungava, at ungava bay, in labrador.' i felt my heart stand still for a moment, and then surge up and down, like a piston-rod under a sudden rush of steam. 'you will proceed now,' he went on, in his hard voice, 'as far as the village of pont croix. there you will find three indians awaiting you. you will go on with them as far as point st. saviour and camp for the night, for if the indians remain in the village they may get drunk. the next morning, at sunrise, you will move on. the indians know the trail across labrador to fort ungava. when you reach there, you will take command of the post and remain till further orders. your clothes are already at the village. i have had them packed, and you will find there also what is necessary for the journey. the factor at ungava was there ten years; he has gone--to heaven.' "i cannot tell what it was held my tongue silent, that made me only bow my head in assent, and press my lips together. i knew i was pale as death, for as i turned to leave the room i caught sight of my face in a little mirror tacked on the door, and i hardly recognised myself. "'good-day, mr. fawdor,' said the governor, handing me the map. 'there is some brandy in your stores; be careful that none of your indians get it. if they try to desert, you know what to do.' with a gesture of dismissal he turned, and began to speak with the chief trader. "for me, i went from that room like a man condemned to die. fort ungava in labrador,--a thousand miles away, over a barren, savage country, and in winter too; for it would be winter there immediately! it was an exile to siberia, and far worse than siberia; for there are many there to share the fellowship of misery, and i was likely to be the only white man at fort ungava. as i passed from the door of the post the words of shakespeare which had brought all this about sang in my ears." he ceased speaking, and sank back wearily among the skins of his couch. out of the enveloping silence pierre's voice came softly: "thou shalt judge with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one woman." ii "the journey to the village of pont croix was that of a man walking over graves. every step sent a pang to my heart,--a boy of twenty-one, grown old in a moment. it was not that i had gone a little lame from a hurt got on the expedition with the governor, but my whole life seemed suddenly lamed. why did i go? ah, you do not know how discipline gets into a man's bones, the pride, the indignant pride of obedience! at that hour i swore that i should myself be the governor of that company one day,--the boast of loud-hearted youth. i had angry visions, i dreamed absurd dreams, but i did not think of disobeying. it was an unheard-of journey at such a time, but i swore that i would do it, that it should go into the records of the company. "i reached the village, found the indians, and at once moved on to the settlement where we were to stay that night. then my knee began to pain me. i feared inflammation; so in the dead of night i walked back to the village, roused a trader of the company, got some liniment and other trifles, and arrived again at st. saviour's before dawn. my few clothes and necessaries came in the course of the morning, and by noon we were fairly started on the path to exile. "i remember that we came to a lofty point on the st. lawrence just before we plunged into the woods, to see the great stream no more. i stood and looked back up the river towards the point where lachine lay. all that went to make the life of a company's man possible was there; and there, too, were those with whom i had tented and travelled for three long months,--eaten with them, cared for them, used for them all the woodcraft that i knew. i could not think that it would be a young man's lifetime before i set eyes on that scene again. never from that day to this have i seen the broad, sweet river where i spent the three happiest years of my life. i can see now the tall shining heights of quebec, the pretty wooded island of orleans, the winding channel, so deep, so strong. the sun was three-fourths of its way down in the west, and already the sky was taking on the deep red and purple of autumn. somehow, the thing that struck me most in the scene was a bunch of pines, solemn and quiet, their tops burnished by the afternoon light. tears would have been easy then. but my pride drove them back from my eyes to my angry heart. besides, there were my indians waiting, and the long journey lay before us. then, perhaps because there was none nearer to make farewell to, or i know not why, i waved my hand towards the distant village of lachine, and, with the sweet maid in my mind who had so gently parted from me yesterday, i cried, 'good-bye, and god bless you.'" he paused. pierre handed him a wooden cup, from which he drank, and then continued: "the journey went forward. you have seen the country. you know what it is: those bare ice-plains and rocky unfenced fields stretching to all points, the heaving wastes of treeless country, the harsh frozen lakes. god knows what insupportable horror would have settled on me in that pilgrimage had it not been for occasional glimpses of a gentler life--for the deer and caribou which crossed our path. upon my soul, i was so full of gratitude and love at the sight that i could have thrown my arms round their necks and kissed them. i could not raise a gun at them. my indians did that, and so inconstant is the human heart that i ate heartily of the meat. my indians were almost less companionable to me than any animal would have been. try as i would, i could not bring myself to like them, and i feared only too truly that they did not like me. indeed, i soon saw that they meant to desert me,--kill me, perhaps, if they could, although i trusted in the wholesome and restraining fear which the indian has of the great company. i was not sure that they were guiding me aright, and i had to threaten death in case they tried to mislead me or desert me. my knee at times was painful, and cold, hunger, and incessant watchfulness wore on me vastly. yet i did not yield to my miseries, for there entered into me then not only the spirit of endurance, but something of that sacred pride in suffering which was the merit of my covenanting forefathers. "we were four months on that bitter travel, and i do not know how it could have been made at all, had it not been for the deer that i had heart to eat and none to kill. the days got shorter and shorter, and we were sometimes eighteen hours in absolute darkness. thus you can imagine how slowly we went. thank god, we could sleep, hid away in our fur bags, more often without a fire than with one,--mere mummies stretched out on a vast coverlet of white, with the peering, unfriendly sky above us; though it must be said that through all those many, many weeks no cloud perched in the zenith. when there was light there was sun, and the courage of it entered into our bones, helping to save us. you may think i have been made feeble-minded by my sufferings, but i tell you plainly that, in the closing days of our journey, i used to see a tall figure walking beside me, who, whenever i would have spoken to him, laid a warning finger on his lips; but when i would have fallen, he spoke to me, always in the same words. you have heard of him, the scarlet hunter of the kimash hills. it was he, the sentinel of the north, the lover of the lost. so deep did his words go into my heart that they have remained with me to this hour." "i saw him once in the white valley," pierre said in a low voice. "what was it he said to you?" the other drew a long breath, and a smile rested on his lips. then, slowly, as though liking to linger over them, he repeated the words of the scarlet hunter: "'o son of man, behold! if thou shouldest stumble on the nameless trail, the trail that no man rides, lift up thy heart, behold, o son of man, thou hast a helper near! "'o son of man, take heed! if thou shouldst fall upon the vacant plain, the plain that no man loves, reach out thy hand, take heed, o son of man, strength shall be given thee! "'o son of man, rejoice! if thou art blinded even at the door, the door of the safe tent, sing in thy heart, rejoice, o son of man, thy pilot leads thee home?' "i never seemed to be alone after that--call it what you will, fancy or delirium. my head was so light that it appeared to spin like a star, and my feet were so heavy that i dragged the whole earth after me. my indians seldom spoke. i never let them drop behind me, for i did not trust their treacherous natures. but in the end, as it would seem, they also had but one thought, and that to reach fort ungava; for there was no food left, none at all. we saw no tribes of indians and no esquimaux, for we had not passed in their line of travel or settlement. "at last i used to dream that birds were singing near me,--a soft, delicate whirlwind of sound; and then bells all like muffled silver rang through the aching, sweet air. bits of prayer and poetry i learned when a boy flashed through my mind; equations in algebra; the tingling scream of a great buzz-saw; the breath of a racer as he nears the post under the crying whip; my own voice dropping loud profanity, heard as a lad from a blind ferryman; the boom! boom! of a mass of logs as they struck a house on a flooding river and carried it away. . . . "one day we reached the end. it was near evening, and we came to the top of a wooded knoll. my eyes were dancing in my head with fatigue and weakness, but i could see below us, on the edge of the great bay, a large hut, esquimau lodges and indian tepees near it. it was the fort, my cheerless prison-house." he paused. the dog had been watching him with its flaming eyes; now it gave a low growl, as though it understood, and pitied. in the interval of silence the storm without broke. the trees began to quake and cry, the light snow to beat upon the parchment windows, and the chimney to splutter and moan. presently, out on the bay they could hear the young ice break and come scraping up the shore. fawdor listened a while, and then went on, waving his hand to the door as he began: "think! this, and like that always: the ungodly strife of nature, and my sick, disconsolate life." "ever since?" asked pierre. "all the time." "why did you not go back?" "i was to wait for orders, and they never came." "you were a free man, not a slave." "the human heart has pride. at first, as when i left the governor at lachine, i said, 'i will never speak, i will never ask nor bend the knee. he has the power to oppress; i can obey without whining, as fine a man as he.'" "did you not hate?" "at first, as only a banished man can hate. i knew that if all had gone well i should be a man high up in the company, and here i was, living like a dog in the porch of the world, sometimes without other food for months than frozen fish; and for two years i was in a place where we had no fire,--lived in a snow-house, with only blubber to eat. and so year after year, no word!" "the mail came once every year from the world?" "yes, once a year the door of the outer life was opened. a ship came into the bay, and by that ship i sent out my reports. but no word came from the governor, and no request went from me. once the captain of that ship took me by the shoulders, and said, 'fawdor, man, this will drive you mad. come away to england,--leave your half-breed in charge,--and ask the governor for a big promotion.' he did not understand. of course i said i could not go. then he turned on me, he was a good man,--and said, 'this will either make you madman or saint, fawdor.' he drew a bible from his pocket and handed it to me. 'i've used it twenty years,' he said, 'in evil and out of evil, and i've spiked it here and there; it's a chart for heavy seas, and may you find it so, my lad.' "i said little then; but when i saw the sails of his ship round a cape and vanish, all my pride and strength were broken up, and i came in a heap to the ground, weeping like a child. but the change did not come all at once. there were two things that kept me hard." "the girl?" "the girl, and another. but of the young lady after. i had a half-breed whose life i had saved. i was kind to him always; gave him as good to eat and drink as i had myself; divided my tobacco with him; loved him as only an exile can love a comrade. he conspired with the indians to seize the fort and stores, and kill me if i resisted. i found it out." "thou shalt keep the faith of food and blanket," said pierre. "what did you do with him?" "the fault was not his so much as of his race and his miserable past. i had loved him. i sent him away; and he never came back." "thou shalt judge with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one woman." "for the girl. there was the thing that clamped my heart. never a message from her or her brother. surely they knew, and yet never, thought i, a good word for me to the governor. they had forgotten the faith of food and blanket. and she--she must have seen that i could have worshipped her, had we been in the same way of life. before the better days came to me i was hard against her, hard and rough at heart." "remember the sorrow of thine own wife." pierre's voice was gentle. "truly, to think hardly of no woman should be always in a man's heart. but i have known only one woman of my race in twenty-five years!" "and as time went on?" "as time went on, and no word came, i ceased to look for it. but i followed that chart spiked with the captain's pencil, as he had done it in season and out of season, and by and by i ceased to look for any word. i even became reconciled to my life. the ambitious and aching cares of the world dropped from me, and i stood above all--alone in my suffering, yet not yielding. loneliness is a terrible thing. under it a man--" "goes mad or becomes a saint--a saint!" pierre's voice became reverent. fawdor shook his head, smiling gently. "ah no, no. but i began to understand the world, and i loved the north, the beautiful hard north." "but there is more?" "yes, the end of it all. three days before you came i got a packet of letters, not by the usual yearly mail. one announced that the governor was dead. another--" "another?" urged pierre. --"was from her. she said that her brother, on the day she wrote, had by chance come across my name in the company's records, and found that i had been here a quarter of a century. it was the letter of a good woman. she said she thought the governor had forgotten that he had sent me here --as now i hope he had, for that would be one thing less for him to think of, when he set out on the journey where the only weight man carries is the packload of his sins. she also said that she had written to me twice after we parted at lachine, but had never heard a word, and three years afterwards she had gone to india. the letters were lost, i suppose, on the way to me, somehow--who can tell? then came another thing, so strange, that it seemed like the laughter of the angels at us. these were her words: 'and, dear mr. fawdor, you were both wrong in that quotation, as you no doubt discovered long ago.' then she gave me the sentence as it is in cymbeline. she was right, quite right. we were both wrong. never till her letter came had i looked to see. how vain, how uncertain, and fallible, is man!" pierre dropped his cigarette, and stared at fawdor. "the knowledge of books is foolery," he said slowly. "man is the only book of life. go on." "there was another letter, from the brother, who was now high up in the company, asking me to come to england, and saying that they wished to promote me far, and that he and his sister, with their families, would be glad to see me." "she was married then?" the rashness of the suggestion made fawdor wave his hand impatiently. he would not reply to it. "i was struck down with all the news," he said. "i wandered like a child out into a mad storm. illness came; then you, who have nursed me back to life. . . . and now i have told all." "not all, bien sur. what will you do?" "i am out of the world; why tempt it all again? see how those twentyfive years were twisted by a boy's vanity and a man's tyranny!" "but what will you do?" persisted pierre. "you should see the faces of women and children again. no man can live without that sight, even as a saint." suddenly fawdor's face was shot over with a storm of feeling. he lay very still, his thoughts busy with a new world which had been disclosed to him. "youth hungers for the vanities," he said, "and the middle-aged for home." he took pierre's hand. "i will go," he added. "a door will open somewhere for me." then he turned his face to the wall. the storm had ceased, the wild dog huddled quietly on the hearth, and for hours the only sound was the crackling of the logs as pierre stirred the fire. etext editor's bookmarks: advantage to live where nothing was required of her but truth don't be too honest every shot that kills ricochets not good to have one thing in the head all the time remember the sorrow of thine own wife secret of life: to keep your own commandments she had not suffered that sickness, social artifice some people are rough with the poor--and proud they whose tragedy lies in the capacity to suffer greatly think with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one woman youth hungers for the vanities this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] pierre and his people tales of the far north by gilbert parker volume 2. a prairie vagabond she of the triple chevron three outlaws a prairie vagabond little hammer was not a success. he was a disappointment to the missionaries; the officials of the hudson's bay company said he was "no good;" the mounted police kept an eye on him; the crees and blackfeet would have nothing to do with him; and the half-breeds were profane regarding him. but little hammer was oblivious to any depreciation of his merits, and would not be suppressed. he loved the hudson's bay company's post at yellow quill with an unwavering love; he ranged the half-breed hospitality of red deer river, regardless of it being thrown at him as he in turn threw it at his dog; he saluted sergeant gellatly with a familiar how! whenever he saw him; he borrowed tabac of the halfbreed women, and, strange to say, paid it back--with other tabac got by daily petition, until his prayer was granted, at the h. b. c. post. he knew neither shame nor defeat, but where women were concerned he kept his word, and was singularly humble. it was a woman that induced him to be baptised. the day after the ceremony he begged "the loan of a dollar for the love of god" from the missionary; and being refused, straightway, and for the only time it was known of him, delivered a rumbling torrent of half-breed profanity, mixed with the unusual oaths of the barracks. then he walked away with great humility. there was no swagger about little hammer. he was simply unquenchable and continuous. he sometimes got drunk; but on such occasions he sat down, or lay down, in the most convenient place, and, like caesar beside pompey's statue, wrapped his mantle about his face and forgot the world. he was a vagabond indian, abandoned yet self-contained, outcast yet gregarious. no social ostracism unnerved him, no threats of the h. b. c. officials moved him; and when in the winter of 187_ he was driven from one place to another, starving and homeless, and came at last emaciated and nearly dead to the post at yellow quill, he asked for food and shelter as if it were his right, and not as a mendicant. one night, shortly after his reception and restoration, he was sitting in the store silently smoking the company's tabac. sergeant gellatly entered. little hammer rose, offered his hand, and muttered, "how!" the sergeant thrust his hand aside, and said sharply: "whin i take y'r hand, little hammer, it'll be to put a grip an y'r wrists that'll stay there till y'are in quarters out of which y'll come nayther winter nor summer. put that in y'r pipe and smoke it, y' scamp!" little hammer had a bad time at the post that night. lounging halfbreeds reviled him; the h. b. c. officials rebuked him; and travellers who were coming and going shared in the derision, as foolish people do where one is brow-beaten by many. at last a trapper entered, whom seeing, little hammer drew his blanket up about his head. the trapper sat down very near little hammer, and began to smoke. he laid his plugtabac and his knife on the counter beside him. little hammer reached over and took the knife, putting it swiftly within his blanket. the trapper saw the act, and, turning sharply on the indian, called him a thief. little hammer chuckled strangely and said nothing; but his eyes peered sharply above the blanket. a laugh went round the store. in an instant the trapper, with a loud oath, caught at the indian's throat; but as the blanket dropped back he gave a startled cry. there was the flash of a knife, and he fell back dead. little hammer stood above him, smiling, for a moment, and then, turning to sergeant gellatly, held out his arms silently for the handcuffs. the next day two men were lost on the prairies. one was sergeant gellatly; the other was little hammer. the horses they rode travelled so close that the leg of the indian crowded the leg of the white man; and the wilder the storm grew, the closer still they rode. a 'poudre' day, with its steely air and fatal frost, was an ill thing in the world; but these entangling blasts, these wild curtains of snow, were desolating even unto death. the sun above was smothered; the earth beneath was trackless; the compass stood for loss all round. what could sergeant gellatly expect, riding with a murderer on his left hand: a heathen that had sent a knife through the heart of one of the lords of the north? what should the gods do but frown, or the elements be at, but howling on their path? what should one hope for but that vengeance should be taken out of the hands of mortals, and be delivered to the angry spirits? but if the gods were angry at the indian, why should sergeant gellatly only sway to and fro, and now laugh recklessly, and now fall sleepily forward on the neck of his horse; while the indian rode straight, and neither wavered nor wandered in mind, but at last slipped from his horse and walked beside the other? it was at this moment that the soldier heard, "sergeant gellatly, sergeant gellatly," called through the blast; and he thought it came from the skies, or from some other world. "me darlin'," he said, "have y' come to me?" but the voice called again: "sergeant gellatly, keep awake! keep awake! you sleep, you die; that's it. holy. yes. how!" then he knew that it was little hammer calling in his ear, and shaking him; that the indian was dragging him from his horse . . . his revolver, where was it? he had forgotten . . . he nodded . . . nodded. but little hammer said: "walk, hell! you walk, yes;" and little hammer struck him again and again; but one arm of the indian was under his shoulder and around him, and the voice was anxious and kind. slowly it came to him that little hammer was keeping him alive against the will of the spirits--but why should they strike him instead of the indian? was there any sun in the world? had there ever been? or fire or heat anywhere, or anything but wind and snow in all god's universe? . . . yes, there were bells ringing--soft bells of a village church; and there was incense burning--most sweet it was! and the coals in the censer--how beautiful, how comforting! he laughed with joy again, and he forgot how cold, how maliciously cold, he had been; he forgot how dreadful that hour was before he became warm; when he was pierced by myriad needles through the body, and there was an incredible aching at his heart. and yet something kept thundering on his body, and a harsh voice shrieked at him, and there were many lights dancing over his shut eyes; and then curtains of darkness were dropped, and centuries of oblivion came; and then--then his eyes opened to a comforting silence, and some one was putting brandy between his teeth, and after a time he heard a voice say: "'bien,' you see he was a murderer, but he save his captor. 'voila,' such a heathen! but you will, all the same, bring him to justice--you call it that? but we shall see." then some one replied, and the words passed through an outer web of darkness and an inner haze of dreams. "the feet of little hammer were like wood on the floor when you brought the two in, pretty pierre--and lucky for them you found them. . . . the thing would read right in a book, but it's not according to the run of things up here, not by a damned sight!" "private bradshaw," said the first voice again, "you do not know little hammer, nor that story of him. you wait for the trial. i have something to say. you think little hammer care for the prison, the rope?--ah, when a man wait five years to kill--so! and it is done, he is glad sometimes when it is all over. sergeant gellatly there will wish he went to sleep forever in the snow, if little hammer come to the rope. yes, i think." and sergeant gellatly's brain was so numbed that he did not grasp the meaning of the words, though he said them over and over again. . . . was he dead? no, for his body was beating, beating . . . well, it didn't matter . . . nothing mattered . . . he was sinking to forgetfulness . . . sinking. so, for hours, for weeks--it might have been for years--and then he woke, clear and knowing, to "the unnatural, intolerable day"--it was that to him, with little hammer in prison. it was march when his memory and vigour vanished; it was may when he grasped the full remembrance of himself, and of that fight for life on the prairie: of the hands that smote him that he should not sleep; of little hammer the slayer, who had driven death back discomfited, and brought his captor safe to where his own captivity and punishment awaited him. when sergeant gellatly appeared in court at the trial he refused to bear witness against little hammer. "d' ye think--does wan av y' think--that i'll speak a word agin the man--haythen or no haythen--that pulled me out of me tomb and put me betune the barrack quilts? here's the stripes aff me arm, and to gaol i'll go; but for what wint before i clapt the iron on his wrists, good or avil, divil a word will i say. an' here's me left hand, and there's me right fut, and an eye of me too, that i'd part with, for the cause of him that's done a trick that your honour wouldn't do-an' no shame to y' aither--an' y'd been where little hammer was with me." his honour did not reply immediately, but he looked meditatively at little hammer before he said quietly,--"perhaps not, perhaps not." and little hammer, thinking he was expected to speak, drew his blanket up closely about him and grunted, "how!" pretty pierre, the notorious half-breed, was then called. he kissed the book, making the sign of the cross swiftly as he did so, and unheeding the ironical, if hesitating, laughter in the court. then he said: "'bien,' i will tell you the story-the whole truth. i was in the stony plains. little hammer was 'good injin' then. . . . yes, sacre! it is a fool who smiles at that. i have kissed the book. dam! . . . he would be chief soon when old two tails die. he was proud, then, little hammer. he go not to the post for drink; he sell not next year's furs for this year's rations; he shoot straight." here little hammer stood up and said: "there is too much talk. let me be. it is all done. the sun is set--i care not--i have killed him;" and then he drew his blanket about his face and sat down. but pierre continued: "yes, you killed him-quick, after five years--that is so; but you will not speak to say why. then, i will speak. the injins say little hammer will be great man; he will bring the tribes together; and all the time little hammer was strong and silent and wise. then brigley the trapper--well, he was a thief and coward. he come to little hammer and say, 'i am hungry and tired.' little hammer give him food and sleep. he go away. 'bien,' he come back and say,--'it is far to go; i have no horse.' so little hammer give him a horse too. then he come back once again in the night when little hammer was away, and before morning he go; but when little hammer return, there lay his bride--only an injin girl, but his bride-dead! you see? eh? no? well, the captain at the post he says it was the same as lucrece.--i say it was like hell. it is not much to kill or to die--that is in the game; but that other, 'mon dieu!' little hammer, you see how he hide his head: not because he kill the tarquin, that brigley, but because he is a poor 'vaurien' now, and he once was happy and had a wife. . . . what would you do, judge honourable? . . . little hammer, i shake your hand--so--how!" but little hammer made no reply. the judge sentenced little hammer to one month in gaol. he might have made it one thousand months--it would have been the same; for when, on the last morning of that month, they opened the door to set him free, he was gone. that is, the little hammer whom the high gods knew was gone; though an ill-nourished, self-strangled body was upright by the wall. the vagabond had paid his penalty, but desired no more of earth. upon the door was scratched the one word: how! she of the triple chevron between archangel's rise and pardon's drive there was but one house. it was a tavern, and it was known as galbraith's place. there was no man in the western territories to whom it was not familiar. there was no traveller who crossed the lonely waste but was glad of it, and would go twenty miles out of his way to rest a night on a corn-husk bed which jen galbraith's hands had filled, to eat a meal that she had prepared, and to hear peter galbraith's tales of early days on the plains, when buffalo were like clouds on the horizon, when indians were many and hostile, and when men called the great western prairie a wedge of the american desert. it was night on the prairie. jen galbraith stood in the doorway of the tavern sitting-room and watched a mighty beacon of flame rising before her, a hundred yards away. every night this beacon made a circle of light on the prairie, and galbraith's place was in the centre of the circle. summer and winter it burned from dusk to daylight. no hand fed it but that of nature. it never failed; it was a cruse that was never empty. upon jen galbraith it had a weird influence. it grew to be to her a kind of spiritual companion, though, perhaps, she would not so have named it. this flaming gas, bubbling up from the depths of the earth on the lonely plains, was to her a mysterious presence grateful to her; the receiver of her thoughts, the daily necessity in her life. it filled her too with a kind of awe; for, when it burned, she seemed not herself alone, but another self of her whom she could not quite understand. yet she was no mere dreamer. upon her practical strength of body and mind had come that rugged poetical sense, which touches all who live the life of mountain and prairie. she showed it in her speech; it had a measured cadence. she expressed it in her body; it had a free and rhythmic movement. and not jen alone, but many another dweller on the prairie, looked upon it with a superstitious reverence akin to worship. a blizzard could not quench it. a gale of wind only fed its strength. a rain-storm made a mist about it, in which it was enshrined like a god. peter galbraith could not fully understand his daughter's fascination for this prairie star, as the north-west people called it. it was not without its natural influence upon him; but he regarded it most as a comfortable advertisement, and he lamented every day that this neverfailing gas well was not near a large population, and he still its owner. he was one of that large family in the earth who would turn the best things in their lives into merchandise. as it was, it brought much grist to his mill; for he was not averse to the exercise of the insinuating pleasures of euchre and poker in his tavern; and the hospitality which ranchmen, cowboys, and travellers sought at his hand was often prolonged, and also remunerative to him. pretty pierre, who had his patrol as gamester defined, made semi-annual visits to galbraith's place. it occurred generally after the rounding-up and branding seasons, when the cowboys and ranchmen were "flush" with money. it was generally conceded that monsieur pierre would have made an early excursion to a place where none is ever "ordered up," if he had not been free with the money which he so plentifully won. card-playing was to him a science and a passion. he loved to win for winning's sake. after that, money, as he himself put it, was only fit to be spent for the good of the country, and that men should earn more. since he put his philosophy into instant and generous practice, active and deadly prejudice against him did not have lengthened life. the mounted police, or as they are more poetically called, the riders of the plains, watched galbraith's place, not from any apprehension of violent events, but because galbraith was suspected of infringing the prevailing law of prohibition, and because for some years it had been a tradition and a custom to keep an eye on pierre. as jen galbraith stood in the doorway looking abstractedly at the beacon, her fingers smoothing her snowy apron the while, she was thinking thus to herself: "perhaps father is right. if that prairie star were only at vancouver or winnipeg instead of here, our val could be something, more than a prairie-rider. he'd have been different, if father hadn't started this tavern business. not that our val is bad. he isn't; but if he had money he could buy a ranch,--or something." our val, as jen and her father called him, was a lad of twenty-two, one year younger than jen. he was prairie-rider, cattle-dealer, scout, cowboy, happy-go-lucky vagrant,--a splendid bohemian of the plains. as jen said, he was not bad; but he had a fiery, wandering spirit, touched withal by the sunniest humour. he had never known any curb but jen's love and care. that had kept him within bounds so far. all men of the prairie spoke well of him. the great new lands have codes and standards of morals quite their own. one enthusiastic admirer of this youth said, in jen's hearing, "he's a christian--val galbraith!" that was the western way of announcing a man as having great civic and social virtues. perhaps the respect for val galbraith was deepened by the fact that there was no broncho or cayuse that he could not tame to the saddle. jen turned her face from the flame and looked away from the oasis of warmth it made, to where the light shaded away into darkness, a darkness that was unbroken for many a score of miles to the north and west. she sighed deeply and drew herself up with an aggressive motion as though she was freeing herself of something. so she was. she was trying to shake off a feeling of oppression. ten minutes ago the gaslighted house behind her had seemed like a prison. she felt that she must have air, space, and freedom. she would have liked a long ride on the buffalo-track. that, she felt, would clear her mind. she was no romantic creature out of her sphere, no exotic. she was country-born and bred, and her blood had been charged by a prairie instinct passing through three generations. she was part of this life. her mind was free and strong, and her body was free and healthy. while that freedom and health was genial, it revolted against what was gross or irregular. she loved horses and dogs, she liked to take a gun and ride away to the poplar hills in search of game, she found pleasure in visiting the indian reservation, and talking to sun-in-thenorth, the only good indian chief she knew, or that anyone else on the prairies knew. she loved all that was strong and untamed, all that was panting with wild and glowing life. splendidly developed, softly sinewy, warmly bountiful, yet without the least physical over-luxuriance or suggestiveness, jen, with her tawny hair and dark-brown eyes, was a growth of unrestrained, unconventional, and eloquent life. like nature around her, glowing and fresh, yet glowing and hardy. there was, however, just a strain of pensiveness in her, partly owing to the fact that there were no women near her, that she had, virtually, lived her life as a woman alone. as she thus looked into the undefined horizon two things were happening: a traveller was approaching galbraith's place from a point in that horizon; and in the house behind her someone was singing. the traveller sat erect upon his horse. he had not the free and lazy seat of the ordinary prairie-rider. it was a cavalry seat, and a military manner. he belonged to that handful of men who patrol a frontier of near a thousand miles, and are the security of peace in three hundred thousand miles of territory--the riders of the plains, the north-west mounted police. this rider of the plains was sergeant thomas gellatly, familiarly known as sergeant tom. far away as he was he could see that a woman was standing in the tavern door. he guessed who it was, and his blood quickened at the guessing. but reining his horse on the furthest edge of the lighted circle, he said, debatingly: "i've little time enough to get to the rise, and the order was to go through, hand the information to inspector jules, and be back within forty-eight hours. is it flesh and blood they think i am? me that's just come back from a journey of a hundred miles, and sent off again like this with but a taste of sleep and little food, and corporal byng sittin' there at fort desire with a pipe in his mouth and the fat on his back like a porpoise. it's famished i am with hunger, and thirty miles yet to do; and she, standin' there with a six months' welcome in her eye. . . . it's in the interest of justice if i halt at galbraith's place for half-an-hour, bedad! the blackguard hid away there at soldier's knee will be arrested all the sooner; for horse and man will be able the better to travel. i'm glad it's not me that has to take him whoever he is. it's little i like leadin' a fellowcreature towards the gallows, or puttin' a bullet into him if he won't come. . . . now what will we do, larry, me boy? "this to the broncho--"go on without bite or sup, me achin' behind and empty before, and you laggin' in the legs, or stay here for the slice of an hour and get some heart into us? stay here is it, me boy? then lave go me fut with your teeth and push on to the prairie star there." so saying, sergeant tom, whose language in soliloquy, or when excited, was more marked by a brogue than at other times, rode away towards galbraith's place. in the tavern at that moment, pretty pierrre was sitting on the barcounter, where temperance drinks were professedly sold, singing to himself. his dress was singularly neat, if coarse, and his slouch hat was worn with an air of jauntiness according well with his slight make and almost girlish delicacy of complexion. he was puffing a cigarette, in the breaks of the song. peter galbraith, tall, gaunt, and sombrelooking, sat with his chair tilted back against the wall, rather nervously pulling at the strips of bark of which the yielding chair-seat was made. he may or may not have been listening to the song which had run through several verses. where it had come from, no one knew; no one cared to know. the number of its verses were legion. pierre had a sweet voice, of a peculiarly penetrating quality; still it was low and wellmodulated, like the colour in his cheeks, which gave him his name. these were the words he was singing as sergeant tom rode towards the tavern: "the hot blood leaps in his quivering breast voila! 'tis his enemies near! there's a chasm deep on the mountain crest oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear! they follow him close and they follow him fast, and he flies like a mountain deer; then a mad, wild leap and he's safe at last! oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear! a cry and a leap and the danger's past oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear!" at the close of the verse, galbraith said: "i don't like that song. i--i don't like it. you're not a father, pierre." "no, i am not a father. i have some virtue of that. i have spared the world something, pete galbraith." "you have the devil's luck; your sins never get you into trouble." a curious fire flashed in the half-breed's eyes, and he said, quietly: "yes, i have great luck; but i have my little troubles at times--at times." "they're different, though, from this trouble of val's." there was something like a fog in the old man's throat. "yes, val was quite foolish, you see. if he had killed a white man-pretty pierre, for instance--well, there would have been a show of arrest, but he could escape. it was an injin. the government cherish the injin much in these days. the redskin must be protected. it must be shown that at ottawa there is justice. that is droll--quite. eh, bien! val will not try to escape. he waits too long-near twenty-four hours. then, it is as you see. . . . you have not told her?" he nodded towards the door of the sittingroom. "nothing. it'll come on jen soon enough if he doesn't get away, and bad enough if he does, and can't come back to us. she's fond of him--as fond of him as a mother. always was wiser than our val or me, jen was. more sense than a judge, and proud but not too proud, pierre--not too proud. she knows the right thing to do, like the scriptures; and she does it too. . . . where did you say he was hid?" "in the hollow at soldier's knee. he stayed too long at moose horn. injins carried the news on to fort desire. when val started south for the border other injins followed, and when a halt was made at soldier's knee they pushed across country over to fort desire. you see, val's horse give out. i rode with him so far. my horse too was broke up. what was to be done? well, i knew a ranchman not far from soldier's knee. i told val to sleep, and i would go on and get the ranchman to send him a horse, while i come on to you. then he could push on to the border. i saw the ranchman, and he swore to send a horse to val to-night. he will keep his word. he knows val. that was at noon today, and i am here, you see, and you know all. the danger? ah, my friend,--the police barracks at archangel's rise! if word is sent down there from fort desire before val passes, they will have out a big patrol, and his chances,--well, you know them, the riders of the plains. but val, i think will have luck, and get into montana before they can stop him. i hope; yes." "if i could do anything, pierre! can't we--" the half-breed interrupted: "no, we can't do anything, galbraith. i have done all. the ranchman knows me. he will keep his word, by the great heaven!" it would seem as if pierre had reasons for relying on the ranchman other than ordinary prairie courtesy to law-breakers. "pierre, tell me the whole story over, slow and plain. it don't seem nateral to think of it; but if you go over it again, perhaps i can get the thing more reas'nable in my mind. no, it ain't nateral to me, pierre--our val running away." the old man leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "eh, well, it was an injin. so much. it was in self-defence--a little, but of course to prove that. there is the difficulty. you see, they were all drinking, and the injin--he was a chief---proposed--he proposed that val should sell him his sister, jen galbraith, to be the chief's squaw. he would give him a cayuse. val's blood came up quick--quite quick. you know val. he said between his teeth: 'look out, snow devil, you injin dog, or i'll have your heart. do you think a white girl is like a redskin woman, to be sold as you sell your wives and daughters to the squaw-men and white loafers, you reptile?' then the injin said an ugly word about val's sister, and val shot him dead like lightning.... yes, that is good to swear, galbraith. you are not the only one that curses the law in this world. it is not justice that fills the gaols, but law." the old man rose and walked up and down the room in a shuffling kind of way. his best days were done, the spring of his life was gone, and the step was that of a man who had little more of activity and force with which to turn the halting wheels of life. his face was not altogether good, yet it was not evil. there was a sinister droop to the eyelids, a suggestion of cruelty about the mouth; but there was more of good-nature and passive strength than either in the general expression. one could see that some genial influence had dominated what was inherently cruel and sinister in him. still the sinister predisposition was there. "he can't never come here, pierre, can he?" he asked, despairingly. "no, he can't come here, galbraith. and look: if the riders of the plains should stop here to-night, or to-morrow, you will be cool--cool, eh?" "yes, i will be quite cool, pierre." then he seemed to think of something else and looked up half-curiously, half-inquiringly at the half-breed. pierre saw this. he whistled quietly to himself for a little, and then called the old man over to where he sat. leaning slightly forward he made his reply to the look that had been bent upon him. he touched galbraith's breast lightly with his delicate fingers, and said: "i have not much love for the world, pete galbraith, and not much love for men and women altogether; they are fools--nearly all. some men--you know-treat me well. they drink with me--much. they would make life a hell for me if i was poor--shoot me, perhaps, quick!--if--if i didn't shoot first. they would wipe me with their feet. they would spoil pretty pierre." this he said with a grim kind of humour and scorn, refined in its suppressed force. fastidious as he was in appearance, pierre was not vain. he had been created with a sense of refinement that reduced the grossness of his life; but he did not trade on it; he simply accepted it and lived it naturally after his kind. he was not good at heart, and he never pretended to be so. he continued: "no, i have not much love; but val, well, i think of him some. his tongue is straight; he makes no lies. his heart is fire; his arms are strong; he has no fear. he does not love pierre; but he does not pretend to love him. he does not think of me like the rest. so much the more when his trouble comes i help him. i help him to the death if he needs me. to make him my friend--that is good. eh? perhaps. you see, galbraith?" the old man nodded thoughtfully, and after a little pause said: "i have killed injins myself;" and he made a motion of his head backward, suggestive of the past. with a shrug of his shoulders the other replied "yes, so have i-sometimes. but the government was different then, and there were no riders of the plains." his white teeth showed menacingly under his slight moustache. then there was another pause. pierre was watching the other. "what's that you're doing, galbraith?" "rubbin' laudanum on my gums for this toothache. have to use it for nuralgy, too." galbraith put the little vial back in his waistcoat pocket, and presently said: "what will you have to drink, pretty pierre?" that was his way of showing gratitude. "i am reform. i will take coffee, if jen galbraith will make some. too much broke glass inside is not good. yes." galbraith went into the sitting-room to ask jen to make the coffee. pierre, still sitting on the bar-counter, sang to himself a verse of a rough-and-ready, satirical prairie ballad: "the riders of the plains, my boys, are twenty thousand strong oh, lordy, don't they make the prairies howl! 'tis their lot to smile on virtue and to collar what is wrong, and to intercept the happy flowin' bowl. they've a notion, that in glory, when we wicked ones have chains they will all be major-generals--and that! they're a lovely band of pilgrims are the riders of the plains will some sinner please to pass around the hat?" as he reached the last two lines of the verse the door opened and sergeant tom entered. pretty pierre did not stop singing. his eyes simply grew a little brighter, his cheek flushed ever so slightly, and there was an increase of vigour in the closing notes. sergeant tom smiled a little grimly, then he nodded and said: "been at it ever since, pretty pierre? you were singing the same song on the same spot when i passed here six months ago." "eh, sergeant tom, it is you? what brings you so far from your straw-bed at fort desire?" from underneath his hat-brim pierre scanned the face of the trooper closely. "business. not to smile on virtue, but to collar what is wrong. i guess you ought to be ready by this time to go into quarters, pierre. you've had a long innings." "not yet, sergeant tom, though i love the irish, and your company would make me happy. but i am so innocent, and the world--it cannot spare me yet. but i think you come to smile on virtue, all the same, sergeant tom. she is beautiful is jen galbraith. ah, that makes your eye bright --so! you riders of the plains, you do two things at one time. you make this hour someone happy, and that hour someone unhappy. in one hand the soft glove of kindness, in the other, voila! the cold glove of steel. we cannot all be great like that, sergeant tom." "not great, but clever. voila, the pretty pierre! in one hand he holds the soft paper, the pictures that deceive--kings, queens, and knaves; in the other, pictures in gold and silver--money won from the pockets of fools. and so, as you say, 'bien,' and we each have our way, bedad!" sergeant tom noticed that the half-breed's eyes nearly closed, as if to hide the malevolence that was in them. he would not have been surprised to see a pistol drawn. but he was quite fearless, and if it was not his duty to provoke a difficulty, his fighting nature would not shrink from giving as good as he got. besides, so far as that nature permitted, he hated pretty pierre. he knew the ruin that this gambler had caused here and there in the west, and he was glad that fort desire, at any rate, knew him less than it did formerly. just then peter galbraith entered with the coffee, followed by jen. when the old man saw his visitor he stood still with sudden fear; but catching a warning look from the eye of the half-breed, he made an effort to be steady, and said: "well, jen, if it isn't sergeant tom! and what brings you down here, sergeant tom? after some scalawag that's broke the law?" sergeant tom had not noticed the blanched anxiety in the father's face; for his eyes were seeking those of the daughter. he answered the question as he advanced towards jen: "yes and no, galbraith; i'm only takin' orders to those who will be after some scalawag by daylight in the mornin', or before. the hand of a traveller to you, miss jen." her eyes replied to his in one language; her lips spoke another. "and who is the law-breaker, sergeant tom?" she said, as she took his hand. galbraith's eyes strained towards the soldier till the reply came: "and i don't know that; not wan o' me. i'd ridden in to fort desire from another duty, a matter of a hundred miles, whin the major says to me, 'there's murder been done at moose horn. take these orders down to archangel's rise, and deliver them and be back here within forty-eight hours.' and here i am on the way, and, if i wasn't ready to drop for want of a bite and sup, i'd be movin' away from here to the south at this moment." galbraith was trembling with excitement. pierre warned him by a look, and almost immediately afterward gave him a reassuring nod, as if an important and favourable idea had occurred to him. jen, looking at the sergeant's handsome face, said: "it's six months to a day since you were here, sergeant tom." "what an almanac you are, miss!" pretty pierre sipping his coffee here interrupted musingly: "but her almanac is not always so reliable. so i think. when was i here last, ma'm'selle?" with something like menace in her eyes jen replied: "you were here six months ago to-day, when you won thirty dollars from our val; and then again, just thirty days after that." "ah, so! you remember with a difference." a moment after, sergeant tom being occupied in talking to jen, pierre whispered to peter galbraith: "his horse--then the laudanum!" galbraith was puzzled for a moment, but soon nodded significantly, and the sinister droop to his eyes became more marked. he turned to the sergeant and said, "your horse must be fed as well as yourself, sergeant tom. i'll look after the beast, and jen will take care of you. there's some fresh coffee, isn't there, jen?" jen nodded an affirmative. galbraith knew that the sergeant would trust no one to feed his horse but himself, and the offer therefore was made with design. sergeant tom replied instantly: "no, i'll do it if someone will show me the grass pile." pierre slipped quietly from the counter, and said, "i know the way, galbraith. i will show." jen turned to the sitting-room, and sergeant tom moved to the tavern door, followed by pierre, who, as he passed galbraith, touched the old man's waistcoat pocket, and said: "thirty drops in the coffee." then he passed out, singing softly: "and he sleepeth so well, and he sleepeth so long the fight it was hard, my dear; and his foes were many and swift and strong oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear!" there was danger ahead for sergeant thomas gellatly. galbraith followed his daughter to the sitting-room. she went to the kitchen and brought bread, and cold venison, and prairie fowl, and stewed dried apples--the stay and luxury of all rural canadian homes. the coffee-pot was then placed on the table. then the old man said: "better give him some of that old cheese, jen, hadn't you? it's in the cellar." he wanted to be rid of her for a few moments. "s'pose i had," and jen vanished. now was galbraith's chance. he took the vial of laudanum from his pocket, and opened the coffee-pot. it was half full. this would not suit. someone else--jen--might drink the coffee also! yet it had to be done. sergeant tom should not go on. inspector jules and his riders of the plains must not be put upon the track of val. twelve hours would make all the difference. pour out a cup of coffee?--yes, of course, that would do. it was poured out quickly, and then thirty drops of laudanum were carefully counted into it. hark, they are coming back!--just in time. sergeant tom and pierre enter from outside, and then jen from the kitchen. galbraith is pouring another cup of coffee as they enter, and he says: "just to be sociable i'm goin' to have a cup of coffee with you, sergeant tom. how you riders of the plains get waited on hand and foot!" did some warning flash through sergeant tom's mind or body, some mental. shock or some physical chill? for he distinctly shivered, though he was not cold. he seemed suddenly oppressed with a sense of danger. but his eyes fell on jen, and the hesitation, for which he did not then try to account, passed. jen, clear-faced and true, invited him to sit and eat, and he, starting half-abstractedly, responded to her "draw nigh, sergeant tom," and sat down. commonplace as the words were, they thrilled him, for he thought of a table of his own in a home of his own, and the same words spoken everyday, but without the "sergeant,"--simply "tom." he ate heartily and sipped his coffee slowly, talking meanwhile to jen and galbraith. pretty pierre watched them all. presently the gambler said: "let us go and have our game of euchre, galbraith. ma'm'selle can well take care of sergeant tom." galbraith drank the rest of his coffee, rose, and passed with pierre into the bar-room. then the halfbreed said to him, "you were careful--thirty drops?" "yes, thirty drops." the latent cruelty of the old man's nature was awake. "that is right. it is sleep; not death. he will sleep so sound for half a day, perhaps eighteen hours, and then!--val will have a long start." in the sitting-room sergeant tom was saying: "where is your brother, miss galbraith?" he had no idea that the order in his pocket was for the arrest of that brother. he merely asked the question to start the talk. he and jen had met but five or six times; but the impression left on the minds of both was pleasant--ineradicable. yet, as sergeant tom often asked himself during the past six months, why should he think of her? the life he led was one of severe endurance, and harshness, and austerity. into it there could not possibly enter anything of home. he was but a noncommissioned officer of the mounted police, and beyond that he had nothing. ireland had not been kind to him. he had left her inhospitable shores, and after years of absence he had but a couple of hundred dollars laid up--enough to purchase his discharge and something over, but nothing with which to start a home. ranching required capital. no, it couldn't be thought of; and yet he had thought of it, try as he would not to do so. and she? there was that about this man who had lived life on two continents, in whose blood ran the warm and chivalrous celtic fire, which appealed to her. his physical manhood was noble, if rugged; his disposition genial and free, if schooled, but not entirely, to that reserve which his occupation made necessary--a reserve he would have been more careful to maintain, in speaking of his mission a short time back in the bar-room, if jen had not been there. she called out the frankest part of him; she opened the doors of his nature; she attracted confidence as the sun does the sunflower. to his question she replied: "i do not know where our val is. he went on a hunting expedition up north. we never can tell about him, when he will turn up or where he will be to-morrow. he may walk in any minute. we never feel uneasy. he always has such luck, and comes out safe and sound wherever he is. father says val's a hustler, and that nothing can keep in the road with him. but he's a little wild--a little. still, we don't hector him, sergeant tom; hectoring never does any good, does it?" "no, hectoring never does any good. and as for the wildness, if the heart of him's right, why that's easy out of him whin he's older. it's a fine lad i thought him, the time i saw him here. it's his freedom i wish i had--me that has to travel all day and part of the night, and thin part of the day and all night back again, and thin a day of sleep and the same thing over again. and that's the life of me, sayin' nothin' of the frost and the blizzards, and no home to go to, and no one to have a meal for me like this whin i turn up." and the sergeant wound up with, "whooroo! there's a speech for you, miss!" and laughed good-humouredly. for all that, there was in his eyes an appeal that went straight to jen's heart. but, woman-like, she would not open the way for him to say anything more definite just yet. she turned the subject. and yet again, woman-like, she knew it would lead to the same conclusion: "you must go to-night?" "yes, i must." "nothing--nothing would keep you?" "nothing. duty is duty, much as i'd like to stay, and you givin' me the bid. but my orders were strict. you don't know what discipline means, perhaps. it means obeyin' commands if you die for it; and my commands were to take a letter to inspector jules at archangel's rise to-night. it's a matter of murder or the like, and duty must be done, and me that sleepy, not forgettin' your presence, as ever a man was and looked the world in the face." he drank the rest of the coffee and mechanically set the cup down, his eyes closing heavily as he did so. he made an effort, however, and pulled himself together. his eyes opened, and he looked at jen steadily for a moment. then he leaned over and touched her hand gently with his fingers,--pierre's glove of kindness,--and said: "it's in my heart to want to stay; but a sight of you i'll have on my way back. but i must go on now, though i'm that drowsy i could lie down here and never stir again." jen said to herself: "poor fellow, poor fellow, how tired he is! i wish"--but she withdrew her hand. he put his hand to his head, and said, absently: "it's my duty and it's orders, and . . . what was i sayin'? the disgrace of me if, if . . . bedad! the sleep's on me; i'm awake, but i can't open my eyes. . . . if the orders of me--and a good meal . . . and the disgrace . . . to do me duty-looked the world in the face--" during this speech he staggered to his feet, jen watching him anxiously the while. no suspicion of the cause of his trouble crossed her mind. she set it down to extreme natural exhaustion. presently feeling the sofa behind him, he dropped upon it, and, falling back, began to breathe heavily. but even in this physical stupefaction he made an effort to reassert himself, to draw himself back from the coming unconsciousness. his eyes opened, but they were blind with sleep; and as if in a dream, he said: "my duty . . . disgrace . . . a long sleep . . . jen, dearest"--how she started then!--"it must be done . . . my jen!" and he said no more. but these few words had opened up a world for her--a new-created world on the instant. her life was illuminated. she felt the fulness of a great thought suffusing her face. a beautiful dream was upon her. it had come to her out of his sleep. but with its splendid advent there came the other thing that always is born with woman's love--an almost pathetic care of the being loved. in the deep love of women the maternal and protective sense works in the parallels of mutual regard. in her life now it sprang full-statured in action; love of him, care of him; his honour her honour; his life her life. he must not sleep like this if it was his duty to go on. yet how utterly worn he must be! she had seen men brought in from fighting prairie fires for three days without sleep; had watched them drop on their beds, and lie like logs for thirty-six hours. this sleep of her lover was, therefore, not so strange to her. but it was perilous to the performance of his duty. "poor sergeant tom," she said. "poor tom," she added; and then, with a great flutter at the heart at last, "my tom!" yes, she said that; but she said it to the beacon, to the prairie star, burning outside brighter, it seemed to her, than it had ever done be fore. then she sat down and watched him for many minutes, thinking at the end of each that she would wake him. but the minutes passed, his breathing grew heavier, and he did not stir. the prairie star made quivering and luminous curtains of red for the windows, and jen's mind was quivering in vivid waves of feeling just the same. it seemed to her as if she was looking at life now through an atmosphere charged with some rare, refining essence, and that in it she stood exultingly. perhaps she did not define it so; but that which we define she felt. and happy are they who feel it, and, feeling it, do not lose it in this world, and have the hope of carrying it into the next. after a time she rose, went over to him and touched his shoulder. it seemed strange to her to do this thing. she drew back timidly from the pleasant shock of a new experience. then she remembered that he ought to be on his way, and she shook him gently, then, with all her strength, and called to him quietly all the time, as if her low tones ought to wake him, if nothing else could. but he lay in a deep and stolid slumber. it was no use. she went to her seat and sat down to think. as she did so, her father entered the room. "did you call, jen?" he said; and turned to the sofa. "i was calling to sergeant tom. he's asleep there; dead-gone, father. i can't wake him." "why should you wake him? he is tired." the sinister lines in galbraith's face had deepened greatly in the last hour. he went over and looked closely at the sergeant, followed languidly by pierre, who casually touched the pulse of the sleeping man, and said as casually: "eh, he sleep well; his pulse is like a baby; he was tired, much. he has had no sleep for one, two, three nights, perhaps; and a good meal, it makes him comfortable, and so you see!" then he touched lightly the triple chevron on sergeant tom's arm, and said: "eh, a man does much work for that. and then, to be moral and the friend of the law all the time!" pierre here shrugged his shoulders. "it is easier to be wicked and free, and spend when one is rich, and starve when one is poor, than to be a sergeant and wear the triple chevron. but the sleep will do him good just the same, jen galbraith." "he said that he must go to archangel's rise tonight, and be back at fort desire to-morrow night." "well, that's nothing to us, jen," replied galbraith, roughly. "he's got his own business to look after. he and his tribe are none too good to us and our tribe. he'd have your old father up to-morrow for selling a tired traveller a glass of brandy; and worse than that, ay, a great sight worse than that, mind you, jen." jen did not notice, or, at least, did not heed, the excited emphasis on the last words. she thought that perhaps her father had been set against the sergeant by pierre. "there, that'll do, father," she said. "it's easy to bark at a dead lion. sergeant tom's asleep, and you say things that you wouldn't say if he was awake. he never did us any harm, and you know that's true, father." galbraith was about to reply with anger; but he changed his mind and walked into the bar-room, followed by pierre. in jen's mind a scheme had been hurriedly and clearly formed; and with her, to form it was to put it into execution. she went to sergeant tom, opened his coat, felt in the inside pocket, and drew forth an official envelope. it was addressed to inspector jules at archangel's rise. she put it back and buttoned up the coat again. then she said, with her hands firmly clenching at her side,--"i'll do it." she went into the adjoining room and got a quilt, which she threw over him, and a pillow, which she put under his head. then she took his cap and the cloak which he had thrown over a chair, as if to carry them away. but another thought occurred to her, for she looked towards the bar-room and put them down again. she glanced out of the window and saw that her father and pierre had gone to lessen the volume of gas which was feeding the flame. this, she knew, meant that her father would go to bed when he came back to the house; and this suited her purpose. she waited till they had entered the bar-room again, and then she went to them, and said: "i guess he's asleep for all night. best leave him where he is. i'm going. good-night." when she got back to the sitting-room she said to herself: "how old father's looking! he seems broken up to-day. he isn't what he used to be." she turned once more to look at sergeant tom, then she went to her room. a little later peter galbraith and pretty pierre went to the sittingroom, and the old man drew from the sergeant's pocket the envelope which jen had seen. pierre took it from him. "no, pete galbraith. do not be a fool. suppose you steal that paper. sergeant tom will miss it. he will understand. he will guess about the drug, then you will be in trouble. val will be safe now. this rider of the plains will sleep long enough for that. there, i put the paper back. he sleeps like a log. no one can suspect the drug, and it is all as we like. no, we will not steal; that is wrong--quite wrong"--here pretty pierre showed his teeth. "we will go to bed. come!" jen heard them ascend the stairs. she waited a half-hour, then she stole into val's bedroom, and when she emerged again she had a bundle of clothes across her arm. a few minutes more and she walked into the sitting-room dressed in val's clothes, and with her hair closely wound on the top of her head. the house was still. the prairie star made the room light enough for her purpose. she took sergeant tom's cap and cloak and put them on. she drew the envelope from his pocket and put it in her bosom--she showed the woman there, though for the rest of this night she was to be a rider of the plains, she of the triple chevron. she went towards the door, hesitated, drew back, then paused, stooped down quickly, tenderly touched the soldier's brow with her lips, and said: "i'll do it for you. you shall not be disgraced--tom." iii this was at half-past ten o'clock. at two o'clock a jaded and blown horse stood before the door of the barracks at archangel's rise. its rider, muffled to the chin, was knocking, and at the same time pulling his cap down closely over his head. "thank god the night is dusky," he said. we have heard that voice before. the hat and cloak are those of sergeant tom, but the voice is that of jen galbraith. there is some danger in this act; danger for her lover, contempt for herself if she is discovered. presently the door opens and a corporal appears. "who's there? oh," he added, as he caught sight of the familiar uniform; "where from?" "from fort desire. important orders to inspector jules. require fresh horse to return with; must leave mine here. have to go back at once." "i say," said the corporal, taking the papers--"what's your name?" "gellatly--sergeant gellatly." "say, sergeant gellatly, this isn't accordin' to hoyle--come in the night and go in the night and not stay long enough to have a swear at the gover'ment. why, you're comin' in, aren't you? you're comin' across the door-mat for a cup of coffee and a warm while the horse is gettin' ready, aren't you, sergeant--sergeant gellatly, sergeant gellatly? i've heard of you, but--yes; i will hurry. here, waugh, this to inspector jules! if you won't step in and won't drink and will be unsociable, sergeant, why, come on and you shall have a horse as good as the one you've brought. i'm corporal galna." jen led the exhausted horse to the stables. fortunately there was no lantern used, and therefore little chance for the garrulous corporal to study the face of his companion, even if he wished to do so. the risk was considerable; but jen galbraith was fired by that spirit of selfsacrifice which has held a world rocking to destruction on a balancing point of safety. the horse was quickly saddled, jen meanwhile remaining silent. while she was mounting, corporal galna drew and struck a match to light his pipe. he held it up for a moment as though to see the face of sergeant gellatly. jen had just given a good-night, and the horse the word and a touch of the spur at the instant. her face, that is, such of it as could be seen above the cloak and under the cap, was full in the light. enough was seen, however, to call forth, in addition to corporal galna's goodnight, the exclamation," well, i'm blowed!" as jen vanished into the night a moment after, she heard a voice calling --not corporal galna's--"sergeant gellatly, sergeant gellatly!" she supposed it was inspector jules, but she would not turn back now. her work was done. a half-hour later corporal galna confided to private waugh that sergeant gellatly was too damned pretty for the force--wondered if they called him beauty at fort desire--couldn't call him pretty gellatly, for there was pretty pierre who had right of possession to that title--would like to ask him what soap he used for his complexion--'twasn't this yellow barsoap of the barracks, which wouldn't lather, he'd bet his ultimate dollar. waugh, who had sometime seen sergeant gellatly, entered into a disputation on the point. he said that "sergeant tom was good-looking, a regular irish thoroughbred; but he wasn't pretty, not much!--guessed corporal galna had nightmare, and finally, as the interest in the theme increased in fervour, announced that sergeant tom could loosen the teeth of, and knock the spots off, any man among the riders, from archangel's rise to the cypress hills. pretty--not much--thoroughbred all over!" and corporal galna replied, sarcastically,--"that he might be able for spot dispersion of such a kind, but he had two as pretty spots on his cheek, and as white and touch-no-tobacco teeth as any female ever had." private waugh declared then that corporal galna would be saying sergeant gellatly wasn't a man at all, and wore earrings, and put his hair into papers; and when he could find no further enlargement of sarcasm, consigned the corporal to a fiery place of future torment reserved for lunatics. at this critical juncture waugh was ordered to proceed to inspector jules. a few minutes after, he was riding away toward soldier's knee, with the inspector and another private, to capture val galbraith, the slayer of snow devil, while four other troopers also started off in different directions. iv it was six o'clock when jen drew rein in the yard at galbraith's place. through the dank humours of the darkest time of the night she had watched the first grey streaks of dawn appear. she had caught her breath with fear at the thought that, by some accident, she might not get back before seven o'clock, the hour when her father rose. she trembled also at the supposition of sergeant tom awaking and finding his papers gone. but her fearfulness and excitement was not that of weakness, rather that of a finely nervous nature, having strong elements of imagination, and, therefore, great capacities for suffering as for joy; but yet elastic, vigorous, and possessing unusual powers of endurance. such natures rebuild as fast as they are exhausted. in the devitalising time preceding the dawn she had felt a sudden faintness come over her for a moment; but her will surmounted it, and, when she saw the ruddy streaks of pink and red glorify the horizon, she felt a sudden exaltation of physical strength. she was a child of the light, she loved the warm flame of the sun, the white gleam of the moon. holding in her horse to give him a five minutes' rest, she rose in her saddle and looked round. she was alone in her circle of vision, she and her horse. the long hillocks of prairie rolled away like the sea to the flushed morning, and the far-off cypress hills broke the monotonous skyline of the south. already the air was dissipated of its choking weight, and the vast solitude was filling with that sense of freedom which night seems to shut in as with four walls, and day to widen gloriously. tears sprang to her eyes from a sudden rush of feeling; but her lips were smiling. the world was so different from what it was yesterday. something had quickened her into a glowing life. then she urged the horse on, and never halted till she reached home. she unsaddled the animal that had shared with her the hardship of the long, hard ride, hobbled it, and entered the house quickly. no one was stirring. sergeant tom was still asleep. this she saw, as she hurriedly passed in and laid the cap and cloak where she had found them. then, once again, she touched the brow of the sleeper with her lips, and went to her room to divest herself of val's clothes. the thing had been done without anyone knowing of her absence. but she was frightened as she looked into the mirror. she was haggard, and her eyes were bloodshot. eight hours or nearly in the saddle, at ten miles an hour, had told on her severely; as well it might. even a prairie-born woman, however, understands the art and use of grooming better than a man. warm water quickly heated at the gas, with a little acetic acid in it, used generally for her scouring,--and then cold water with oatmeal flour, took away in part the dulness and the lines in the flesh. but the eyes! jen remembered the vial of tincture of myrrh left by a young englishman a year ago, and used by him for refreshing his eyes after a drinking bout. she got it, tried the tincture, and saw and felt an immediate benefit. then she made a cup of strong green tea, and in ten minutes was like herself again. now for the horse. she went quickly out where she could not be seen from the windows of the house, and gave him a rubbing down till he was quite dry. then she gave him a little water and some feed. the horse was really the touchstone of discovery. but jen trusted in her star. if the worst came she would tell the tale. it must be told anyway to sergeant tom--but that was different now. even if the thing became known it would only be a thing to be teased about by her father and others, and she could stop that. poor girl, as though that was the worst that was to come from her act! sergeant tom slept deeply and soundly. he had not stirred. his breathing was unnaturally heavy, jen thought, but, no suspicion of foul play came to her mind yet. why should it? she gave herself up to a sweet and simple sense of pride in the deed she had done for him, disturbed but slightly by the chances of discovery, and the remembrance of the match that showed her face at archangel's rise. her hands touched the flaxen hair of the soldier, and her eyes grew luminous. one night had stirred all her soul to its depths. a new woman had been born in her. val was dear to her--her brother val; but she realised now that another had come who would occupy a place that neither father, nor brother, nor any other could fill. yet it was a most weird set of tragic circumstances. this man before her had been set to do a task which might deprive her brother of his life, certainly of his freedom; that would disgrace him; her father had done a great wrong too, had put in danger the life of the man she loved, to save his son; she herself in doing this deed for her lover had placed her brother in jeopardy, had crossed swords with her father's purposes, had done the one thing that stood between that father's son and safety; pretty pierre, whom she hated and despised, and thought to be the enemy of her brother and of her home, had proved himself a friend; and behind it all was the brother's crime committed to avenge an insult to her name. but such is life. men and women are unwittingly their own executioners, and the executioners of those they love. v an hour passed, and then galbraith and pierre appeared. jen noticed that her father went over to sergeant tom and rather anxiously felt his pulse. once in the night the old man had come down and done the same thing. pierre said something in an undertone. did they think he was ill? that was jon's thought. she watched them closely; but the half-breed knew that she was watching, and the two said nothing more to each other. but pierre said, in a careless way: "it is good he have that sleep. he was played out, quite." jon replied, a secret triumph at her heart: "but what about his orders, the papers he was to carry to archangel's rise? what about his being back at fort desire in the time given him?" "it is not much matter about the papers. the poor devil that inspector jules would arrest--well, he will get off, perhaps, but that does no one harm. eh, galbraith? the law is sometimes unkind. and as for obeying orders, why, the prairie is wide, it is a hard ride, horses go wrong; --a little tale of trouble to inspector jules, another at fort desire, and who is to know except pete galbraith, jen galbraith, and pierre? poor sergeant tom. it was good he sleep so." jen felt there was irony behind the smooth words of the gambler. he had a habit of saying things, as they express it in that country, between his teeth. that signifies what is animal-like and cruel. galbraith stood silent during pierre's remarks, but, when he had finished, said: "yes, it's all right if he doesn't sleep too long; but there's the trouble--too long!" pierre frowned a warning, and then added, with unconcern: "i remember when you sleep thirty hours, galbraith--after the prairie fire, three years ago, eh!" "well, that's so; that's so as you say it. we'll let him sleep till noon, or longer--or longer, won't we, pierre?" "yes, till noon is good, or longer." "but he shall not sleep longer if i can wake him," said jen. "you do not think of the trouble all this sleeping may make for him." "but then--but then, there is the trouble he will make for others, if he wakes. think. a poor devil trying to escape the law!" "but we have nothing to do with that, and justice is justice, pierre." "eh, well, perhaps, perhaps!" galbraith was silent. jen felt that so far as sergeant tom's papers were concerned he was safe; but she felt also that by noon he ought to be on his way back to fort desire--after she had told him what she had done. she was anxious for his honour. that her lover shall appear well before the world, is a thing deep in the heart of every woman. it is a pride for which she will deny herself, even of the presence of that lover. "till noon," jen said, "and then he must go." vi jen watched to see if her father or pierre would notice that the horse was changed, had been travelled during the night, or that it was a different one altogether. as the morning wore away she saw that they did not notice the fact. this ignorance was perhaps owing largely to the appearance of several ranchmen from near the american border. they spent their time in the bar-room, and when they left it was nearly noon. still sergeant tom slept. jen now went to him and tried to wake him. she lifted him to a sitting position, but his head fell on her shoulder. disheartened, she laid him down again. but now at last an undefined suspicion began to take possession of her. it made her uneasy; it filled her with a vague sense of alarm. was this sleep natural? she remembered that, when her father and others had slept so long after the prairie fire, she had waked them once to give them drink and a little food, and they did not breathe so heavily as he was doing. yet what could be done? what was the matter? there was not a doctor nearer than a hundred miles. she thought of bleeding,--the old-fashioned remedy still used on the prairies--but she decided to wait a little. somehow she felt that she would receive no help from her father or pierre. had they anything to do with this sleep? was it connected with the papers? no, not that, for they had not sought to take them, and had not made any remark about their being gone. this showed their unconcern on that point. she could not fathom the mystery, but the suspicion of something irregular deepened. her father could have no reason for injuring sergeant tom; but pretty pierre--that was another matter. yet she remembered too that her father had appeared the more anxious of the two about the sergeant's sleep. she recalled that he said: "yes, it's all right, if he doesn't sleep too long." but pierre could play a part, she knew, and could involve others in trouble, and escape himself. he was a man with a reputation for occasional wickednesses of a naked, decided type. she knew that he was possessed of a devil, of a very reserved devil, but liable to bold action on occasions. she knew that he valued the chances of life or death no more than he valued the thousand and one other chances of small importance, which occur in daily experience. it was his creed that one doesn't go till the game is done and all the cards are played. he had a stoic indifference to events. he might be capable of poisoning--poisoning! ah, that thought! of poisoning sergeant tom for some cause. but her father? the two seemed to act alike in the matter. could her father approve of any harm happening to tom? she thought of the meal he had eaten, of the coffee he had drunk. the coffee-was that the key? but she said to herself that she was foolish, that her love had made her so. no, it could not be. but a fear grew upon her, strive as she would against it. she waited silently and watched, and twice or thrice made ineffectual efforts to rouse him. her father came in once. he showed anxiety; that was unmistakable, but was it the anxiety of guilt of any kind? she said nothing. at five o'clock matters abruptly came to a climax. jen was in the kitchen, but, hearing footsteps in the sitting-room, she opened the door quietly. her father was bending over sergeant tom, and pierre was speaking: "no, no, galbraith, it is all right. you are a fool. it could not kill him." "kill him--kill him," she repeated gaspingly to herself. "you see he was exhausted; he may sleep for hours yet. yes, he is safe, i think." "but jen, she suspects something, she--" "hush!" said pretty pierre. he saw her standing near. she had glided forward and stood with flashing eyes turned, now upon the one, and now upon the other. finally they rested on galbraith. "tell me what you have done to him; what you and pretty pierre have done to him. you have some secret. i will know." she leaned forward, something of the tigress in the poise of her body. "i tell you, i will know." her voice was low, and vibrated with fierceness and determination. her eyes glowed, and her nostrils trembled with disdain and indignation. as they drew back,--the old man sullenly, the gambler with a slight gesture of impatience,--she came a step nearer to them and waited, the cords of her shapely throat swelling with excitement. a moment so, and then she said in a tone that suggested menace, determination: "you have poisoned him. tell me the truth. do you hear, father--the truth, or i will hate you. i will make you repent it till you die." "but--" pierre began. she interrupted him. "do not speak, pretty pierre. you are a devil. you will lie. father--!" she waited. "what difference does it make to you, jen?" "what difference--what difference to me? that you should be a murderer?" "but that is not so, that is a dream of yours, ma'm'selle," said pierre. she turned to her father again. "father, will you tell the truth to me? i warn you it will be better for you both." the old man's brow was sullen, and his lips were twitching nervously. "you care more for him than you do for your own flesh and blood, jen. there's nothing to get mad about like that. i'll tell you when he's gone. . . . let's--let's wake him," he added, nervously. he stooped down and lifted the sleeping man to a sitting posture. pierre assisted him. jen saw that the half-breed believed sergeant tom could be wakened, and her fear diminished slightly, if her indignation did not. they lifted the soldier to his feet. pierre pressed the point of a pin deep into his arm. jen started forward, woman-like, to check the action, but drew back, for she saw heroic measures might be necessary to bring him to consciousness. but, nevertheless, her anger broke bounds, and she said: "cowards--cowards! what spite made you do this?" "damnation, jen," said the father, "you'll hector me till i make you sorry. what's this irish policeman to you? what's he beside your own flesh and blood, i say again." "why does my own flesh and blood do such wicked tricks to an irish soldier? why does it give poison to an irish soldier?" "poison, jen? you needn't speak so ghost-like. it was only a dose of laudanum; not enough to kill him. ask pierre." inwardly she believed him, and said a thank-god to herself, but to the half-breed she remarked: "yes, ask pierre--you are behind all this! it is some evil scheme of yours. why did you do it? tell the truth for once." her eyes swam angrily with pierre's. pierre was complacent; he admired her wild attacks. he smiled, and replied: "my dear, it was a whim of mine; but you need not tell him, all the same, when he wakes. you see this is your father's house, though the whim is mine. but look: he is waking-the pin is good. some cold water, quick!" the cold water was brought and dashed into the face of the soldier. he showed signs of returning consciousness. the effect of the laudanum had been intensified by the thoroughly exhausted condition of the body. but the man was perfectly healthy, and this helped to resist the danger of a fatal result. pierre kept up an intermittent speech. "yes, it was a mere whim of mine. eh, he will think he has been an ass to sleep so long, and on duty, and orders to carry to archangel's rise!" here he showed his teeth again, white and regular like a dog's. that was the impression they gave, his lips were so red, and the contrast was so great. one almost expected to find that the roof of his mouth was black, like that of a well-bred hound; but there is no evidence available on the point. "there, that is good," he said. "now set him down, pete galbraith. yes--so, so! sergeant tom, ah, you will wake well, soon. now the eyes a little wider. good. eh, sergeant tom, what is the matter? it is breakfast time--quite." sergeant tom's eyes opened slowly and looked dazedly before him for a minute. then they fell on pierre. at first there was no recognition, then they became consciously clearer. "pretty pierre, you here in the barracks!" he said. he put his hand to his head, then rubbed his eyes roughly and looked up again. this time he saw jen and her father. his bewilderment increased. then he added: "what is the matter? have i been asleep? what--!" he remembered. he staggered to his feet and felt his pockets quickly and anxiously for his letter. it was gone. "the letter!" he said. "my orders! who has robbed me? faith, i remember. i could not keep awake after i drank the coffee. my papers are gone, i tell you, galbraith," he said, fiercely. then he turned to jen: "you are not in this, jen. tell me." she was silent for a moment, then was about to answer, when he turned to the gambler and said: "you are at the bottom of this. give me my papers." but pierre and galbraith were as dumbfounded as the sergeant himself to know that the letter was gone. they were stunned beyond speech when jen said, flushing: "no, sergeant tom, i am the thief. when i could not wake you, i took the letter from your pocket and carried it to inspector jules last night,--or, rather, sergeant gellatly carried them. i wore his cap and cloak and passed for him." "you carried that letter to inspector jules last night, jen?" said the soldier, all his heart in his voice. jen saw her father blanch, his mouth open blankly, and his lips refuse to utter the words on them. for the first time she comprehended some danger to him, to herself--to val! "father, father," she said,--" what is it?" pierre shrugged his shoulders and rejoined: "eh, the devil! such mistakes of women. they are fools--all." the old man put out a shaking hand and caught his daughter's arm. his look was of mingled wonder and despair, as he said, in a gasping whisper, "you carried that letter to archangel's rise?" "yes," she answered, faltering now; "sergeant tom had said how important it was, you remember. that it was his duty to take it to inspector jules, and be back within forty-eight hours. he fell asleep. i could not wake him. i thought, what if he were my brother--our val. so, when you and pretty pierre went to bed, i put on val's clothes, took sergeant tom's cloak and hat, carried the orders to jules, and was back here by six o'clock this morning." sergeant tom's eyes told his tale of gratitude. he made a step towards her; but the old man, with a strange ferocity, motioned him back, saying, "go away from this house. go quick. go now, i tell you, or by god,-i'll--" here pretty pierre touched his arm. sergeant tom drew back, not because he feared but as if to get a mental perspective of the situation. galbraith again said to his daughter,-"jen, you carried them papers? you! for him--for the law!" then he turned from her, and with hand clenched and teeth set spoke to the soldier: "haven't you heard enough? curse you, why don't you go?" sergeant tom replied coolly: "not so fast, galbraith. there's some mystery in all this. there's my sleep to be accounted for yet. you had some reason, some"--he caught the eyes of pierre. he paused. a light began to dawn on his mind, and he looked at jen, who stood rigidly pale, her eyes fixed fearfully, anxiously, upon him. she too was beginning to frame in her mind a possible horror; the thing that had so changed her father, the cause for drugging the soldier. there was a silence in which pierre first, and then all, detected the sound of horses' hoofs. pierre went to the door and looked out. he turned round again, and shrugged his shoulders with an expression of helplessness. but as he saw jen was about to speak, and sergeant tom to move towards the door, he put up his hand to stay them both, and said: "a little--wait!" then all were silent. jen's fingers nervously clasped and unclasped, and her eyes were strained towards the door. sergeant tom stood watching her pityingly; the old man's head was bowed. the sound of galloping grew plainer. it stopped. an instant and then three horsemen appeared before the door. one was inspector jules, one was private waugh, and the other between them was--let jen tell who he was. with an agonised cry she rushed from the house and threw herself against the saddle, and with her arms about the prisoner, cried: "oh, val, val, it was you! it was you they were after. it was you that--oh no, no, no! my poor val, and i can't tell you--i can't tell you!" great as was her grief and self-reproach, she felt it would be cruel to tell him the part she had taken in placing him in this position. she hated herself, but why deepen his misery? his face was pale, but it had its old, open, fearless look, which dissipation had not greatly marred. his eyelids quivered, but he smiled, and touching her with his steelbound hands, gently said: "never mind, jen. it isn't so bad. you see it was this way: snow devil said something about someone that belonged to me, that cares more about me than i deserve. well, he died sudden, and i was there at the time. that's all. i was trying with the help of pretty pierre to get out of the country"--and he waved his hand towards the half-breed. "with pretty pierre--pierre?" she said. "yes, he isn't all gambler. but they were too quick for me, and here i am. jules is a hustler on the march. but he said he'd stop here and let me see you and dad as we go up to fort desire, and--there, don't mind, sis--don't mind it so!" her sobs had ceased, but she clung to him as if she could never let him go. her father stood near her, all the lines in his face deepened into bitterness. to him val said: "why, dad, what's the matter? your hand is shaky. don't you get this thing eatin' at your heart. "it isn't worth it. that injin would have died if you'd been in my place, i guess. between you and me, i expect to give jules the slip before we get there." and he laughed at the inspector, who laughed a little austerely too, and in his heart wished that it was anyone else he had as a prisoner than val galbraith, who was a favourite with the riders of the plains. sergeant tom had been standing in the doorway regarding this scene, and working out in his mind the complications that had led to it. at this point he came forward, and inspector jules said to him, after a curt salutation: "you were in a hurry last night, sergeant gellatly. you don't seem so pushed for time now. usual thing. when a man seems over-zealous--drink, cards, or women behind it. but your taste is good, even if, under present circumstances"--he stopped, for he saw a threatening look in the eyes of the other, and that other said: "we won't discuss that matter, inspector, if you please. i'm going on to fort desire now. i couldn't have seen you if i'd wanted to last night." "that's nonsense. if you had waited one minute longer at the barracks you could have done so. i called to you as you were leaving, but you didn't turn back." "no. i didn't hear you." all were listening to this conversation, and none more curiously than private waugh. many a time in days to come he pictured the scene for the benefit of his comrades. pretty pierre, leaning against the hitchingpost near the bar-room, said languidly: "but, inspector, he speaks the truth--quite: that is a virtue of the riders of the plains." val had his eyes on the half-breed, and a look of understanding passed between them. while val and his father and sister were saying their farewells in few words, but with homely demonstrations, sergeant tom brought his horse round and mounted it. inspector jules gave the word to move on. as they started, gellatly, who fell behind the others slightly, leaned down and whispered: "forgive me, jen. you did a noble act for me, and the life of me would prove to you that i'm grateful. it's sorry, sorry i am. but i'll do what i can for val, as sure as the heart's in me. good-bye, jen." she looked up with a faint hope in her eyes. "goodbye!" she said. "i believe you . . . good-bye!" in a few minutes there was only a cloud of dust on the prairie to tell where the law and its quarry were. and of those left behind, one was a broken-spirited old man with sorrow melting away the sinister look in his face; one, a girl hovering between the tempest of bitterness and a storm of self-reproach; and one a half-breed gambler, who again sat on the barcounter smoking a cigarette and singing to himself, as indolently as if he were not in the presence of a painful drama of life, perhaps a tragedy. but was the song so pointless to the occasion, after all, and was the man so abstracted and indifferent as he seemed? for thus the song ran: "oh, the bird in a cage and the bird on a tree voila! 'tis a different fear! the maiden weeps and she bends the knee oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear! but the bird in a cage has a friend in the tree, and the maiden she dries her tear: and the night is dark and no moon you see oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear! when the doors are open the bird is free oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear!" vii these words kept ringing in jen's ears as she stood again in the doorway that night with her face turned to the beacon. how different it seemed now! when she saw it last night it was a cheerful spirit of light--a something suggesting comfort, companionship, aspiration, a friend to the traveller, and a mysterious, but delightful, association. in the morning when she returned from that fortunate, yet most unfortunate, ride, it was still burning, but its warm flame was exhausted in the glow of the lifegiving sun; the dream and delight of the night robbed of its glamour by the garish morning; like her own body, its task done, sinking before the unrelieved scrutiny of the day. to-night it burned with a different radiance. it came in fiery palpitations from the earth. it made a sound that was now like the moan of pine trees, now like the rumble of far-off artillery. the slight wind that blew spread the topmost crest of flame into strands of ruddy hair, and, looking at it, jen saw herself rocked to and fro by tumultuous emotions, yet fuller of strength and larger of life than ever she had been. her hot veins beat with determination, with a love which she drove back by another, cherished now more than it had ever been, because danger threatened the boy to whom she had been as a mother. in twenty-four hours she had grown to the full stature of love and suffering. there were shadows that betrayed less roundness to her face; there were lines that told of weariness; but in her eyes there was a glowing light of hope. she raised her face to the stars and unconsciously paraphrasing pierre's song said: "oh, the god that dost save us, hear!" a hand touched her arm, and a voice said, huskily, "jen, i wanted to save him and--and not let you know of it; that's all. you're not keepin' a grudge agin me, my girl?" she did not move nor turn her head. "i've no grudge, father; but--if-if you had told me, 'twouldn't be on my mind that i had made it worse for val." the kindness in the voice reassured him, and he ventured to say: "i didn't think you'd be carin' for one of the riders of the plains, jen." then the old man trembled lest she should resent his words. she seemed about to do so, but the flush faded from her brow, and she said, simply: "i care for val most, father. but he didn't know he was getting val into trouble." she suddenly quivered as a wave of emotion passed through her; and she said, with a sob in her voice: "oh, it's all scrub country, father, and no paths, and--and i wish i had a mother!" the old man sat down in the doorway and bowed his grey head in his arms. then, after a moment, he whispered: "she's been dead twenty-two years, jen. the day val was born she went away. i'd a-been a better man if she'd a-lived, jen; and a better father." this was an unusual demonstration between these two. she watched him sadly for a moment, and then, leaning over and touching him gently on the shoulder, said: "it's worse for you than it is for me, father. don't feel so bad. perhaps we shall save him yet." he caught a gleam of hope in her words: "mebbe, jen, mebbe!" and he raised his face to the light. this ritual of affection was crude and unadorned; but it was real. they sat there for half-an-hour, silent. then a figure came out of the shadows behind the house and stood before them. it was pierre. "i go to-morrow morning, galbraith," he said. the old man nodded, but did not reply. "i go to fort desire," the gambler added. jen faced him. "what do you go there for, pretty pierre?" "it is my whim. besides, there is val. he might want a horse some dark night." "pierre, do you mean that?" "as much as sergeant tom means what he says. every man has his friends. pretty pierre has a fancy for val galbraith--a little. it suits him to go to fort desire. jen galbraith, you make a grand ride last night. you do a bold thing--all for a man. we shall see what he will do for you. and if he does nothing--ah! you can trust the tongue of pretty pierre. he will wish he could die, instead of--eh, bien, good-night!" he moved away. jen followed him. she held out her hand. it was the first time she had ever done so to this man. "i believe you," she said. "i believe that you mean well to our val. i am sorry that i called you a devil." he smiled. "ma'm'selle, that is nothing. you spoke true. but devils have their friends--and their whims. so you see, good-night." "mebbe it will come out all right, jen--mebbe!" said the old man. but jen did not reply. she was thinking hard, her eyes upon the prairie star. living life to the hilt greatly illumines the outlook of the mind. she was beginning to understand that evil is not absolute, and that good is often an occasion more than a condition. there was a long silence again. at last the old man rose to go and reduce the volume of flame for the night; but jen stopped him. "no, father, let it burn all it can to-night. it's comforting." "mebbe so--mebbe!" he said. a faint refrain came to them from within the house: "when doors are open the bird is free oh, the sweet saint gabrielle hear!" viii it was a lovely morning. the prairie billowed away endlessly to the south, and heaved away in vastness to the north; and the fresh, sharp air sent the blood beating through the veins. in the bar-room some early traveller was talking to peter galbraith. a wandering band of indians was camped about a mile away, the only sign of humanity in the waste. jen sat in the doorway culling dried apples. though tragedies occur in lives of the humble, they must still do the dull and ordinary task. they cannot stop to cherish morbidness, to feed upon their sorrow; they must care for themselves and labour for others. and well is it for them that it is so. the indian camp brings unpleasant memories to jen's mind. she knows it belongs to old sun-in-the-north, and that he will not come to see her now, nor could she, or would she, go to him. between her and that race there can never again be kindly communion. and now she sees, for the first time, two horsemen riding slowly in the track from fort desire towards galbraith's place. she notices that one sits upright, and one seems leaning forward on his horse's neck. she shades her eyes with her hand, but she cannot distinguish who they are. but she has seen men tied to their horses ride as that man is riding, when stricken with fever, bruised by falling timber, lacerated by a grizzly, wounded by a bullet, or crushed by a herd of buffaloes. she remembered at that moment the time that a horse had struck val with its forefeet, and torn the flesh from his chest, and how he had been brought home tied to a broncho's back. the thought of this drove her into the house, to have val's bed prepared for the sufferer, whoever he was. almost unconsciously she put on the little table beside the bed a bunch of everlasting prairie flowers, and shaded the light to the point of quiet and comfort. then she went outside again. the travellers now were not far away. she recognised the upright rider. it was pretty pierre. the other--she could not tell. she called to her father. she had a fear which she did not care to face alone. "see, see, father," she said, "pretty pierre and--and can it be val?" for the moment she seemed unable to stir. but the old man shook his head, and said: "no, jen, it can't be. it ain't val." then another thought possessed her. her lips trembled, and, throwing her head back as does a deer when it starts to shake off its pursuers by flight, she ran swiftly towards the riders. the traveller standing beside galbraith said: "that man is hurt, wounded probably. i didn't expect to have a patient in the middle of the plains. i'm a doctor. perhaps i can be of use here?" when a hundred yards away jen recognised the recumbent rider. a thousand thoughts flashed through her brain. what had happened? why was he dressed in civilian's clothes? a moment, and she was at his horse's head. another, and her warm hand clasped the pale, moist, and wrinkled one which hung by the horse's neck. his coat at the shoulder was stained with blood, and there was a handkerchief about his head. this--this was sergeant tom gellatly! she looked up at pierre, an agony of inquiry in her eyes, and pointing mutely to the wounded man. pierre spoke with a tone of seriousness not common to his voice: "you see, jen galbraith, it was brave. sergeant tom one day resigns the mounted police. he leaves the riders of the plains. that is not easy to understand, for he is in much favour with the officers. but he buys himself out, and there is the end of the sergeant and his triple chevron. that is one day. that night, two men on a ferry are crossing the saskatchewan at fort desire. they are fired at from the shore behind. one man is hit twice. but they get across, cut the ferry loose, mount horses, and ride away together. the man that was hit--yes, sergeant tom. the other that was not hit was val galbraith." jen gave a cry of mingled joy and pain, and said, with tom gellatly's cold hand clasped to her bosom: "val, our val, is free, is safe." "yes, val is free and safe-quite. the riders of the plains could not cross the river. it was too high. and so tom gellatly and val got away. val rides straight for the american border, and the other rides here." they were now near the house, but jen said, eagerly: "go on. tell me all." "i knew what had happened soon, and i rode away, too, and last night i found tom gellatly lying beside his horse on the prairie. i have brought him here to you. you two are even now, jen galbraith." they were at the tavern door. the traveller and pierre lifted, down the wounded and unconscious man, and brought him and laid him on val galbraith's bed. the traveller examined the wounds in the shoulder and the head, and said: "the head is all right. if i can get the bullet out of the shoulder he'll be safe enough--in time." the surgery was skilful but rude, for proper instruments were not at hand; and in a few hours he, whom we shall still call sergeant tom, lay quietly sleeping, the pallor gone from his face and the feeling of death from his hand. it was near midnight when he waked. jen was sitting beside him. he looked round and saw her. her face was touched with the light that shone from the prairie star. "jen," he said, and held out his hand. she turned from the window and stood beside his bed. she took his outstretched hand. "you are better, sergeant tom?" she said, gently. "yes, i'm better; but it's not sergeant tom i am any longer, jen." "i forgot that." "i owed you a great debt, jen. i couldn't remain one of the riders of the plains and try to pay it. i left them. then i tried to save val, and i did. i knew how to do it without getting anyone else into trouble. it is well to know the trick of a lock and the hour that guard is changed. i had left, but i relieved guard that night just the same. it was a new man on watch. it's only a minute i had; for the regular relief watch was almost at my heels. i got val out just in time. they discovered us, and we had a run for it. pretty pierre has told you. that's right. val is safe now--" in a low strained voice, interrupting him, she said, "did val leave you wounded so on the prairie?" "don't let that ate at your heart. no, he didn't. i hurried him off, and he didn't know how bad i was hit. but i--i've paid my debt, haven't i, jen?" with eyes that could not see for tears, she touched pityingly, lovingly, the wounds on his head and shoulder, and said: "these pay a greater debt than you ever owed me. you risked your life for me--yes, for me. you have given up everything to do it. i can't pay you the great difference. no, never!" "yes--yes, you can, if you will, jen. it's as aisy! if you'll say what i say, i'll give you quit of that difference, as you call it, forever and ever." "first, tell me. is val quite, quite safe?" "yes, he's safe over the border by this time; and to tell you the truth, the riders of the plains wouldn't be dyin' to arrest him again if he was in canada, which he isn't. it's little they wanted to fire at us, i know, when we were crossin' the river, but it had to be done, you see, and us within sight. will you say what i ask you, jen?" she did not speak, but pressed his hand ever so slightly. "tom gellatly, i promise," he said. "tom gellatly, i promise--" "to give you as much--" "to give you as much--" "love--" there was a pause, and then she falteringly said, "love--" "as you give to me-" "as you give to me--" "and i'll take you poor as you are--" "and i'll take you poor as you are--" "to be my husband as long as you live--" "to be my husband as long as you live--" "so help me, god." "so help me, god." she stooped with dropping tears, and he kissed her once. then what was girl in her timidly drew back, while what was woman in her, and therefore maternal, yearned over the sufferer. they had not seen the figure of an old man at the door. they did not hear him enter. they only knew of peter galbraith's presence when he said: "mebbe--mebbe i might say amen!" three outlaws the missionary at fort anne of the h. b. c. was violently in earnest. before he piously followed the latest and most amply endowed batch of settlers, who had in turn preceded the new railway to the fort, the word scandal had no place in the vocabulary of the citizens. the h. b. c. had never imported it into the chinook language, the common meeting-ground of all the tribes of the north; and the british men and native-born, who made the fort their home, or place of sojourn, had never found need for its use. justice was so quickly distributed, men were so open in their conduct, good and bad, that none looked askance, nor put their actions in ambush, nor studied innuendo. but this was not according to the new dispensation--that is, the dispensation which shrewdly followed the settlers, who as shrewdly preceded the railway. and, the dispensation and the missionary were known also as the reverend ezra badgley, who, on his own declaration, in times past had "a call" to preach, and in the far east had served as local preacher, then probationer, then went on circuit, and now was missionary in a district of which the choice did credit to his astuteness, and gave room for his piety and for his holy rage against the philistines. he loved a word for righteous mouthing, and in a moment of inspiration pagan and scandal came to him. upon these two words he stamped, through them he perspired mightily, and with them he clenched his stubby fingers--such fingers as dug trenches, or snatched lewdly at soft flesh, in days of barbarian battle. to him all men were pagans who loved not the sound of his voice, nor wrestled with him in prayer before the lord, nor fed him with rich food, nor gave him much strong green tea to drink. but these men were of opaque stuff, and were not dismayed, and they called him st. anthony, and with a prophetic and deadly patience waited. the time came when the missionary shook his denouncing finger mostly at pretty pierre, who carefully nursed his silent wrath until the occasion should arrive for a delicate revenge which hath its hour with every man, if, hating, he knows how to bide the will of fate. the hour came. a girl had been found dying on the roadside beyond the fort by the drunken doctor of the place and pierre. pierre was with her when she died. "an' who's to bury her, the poor colleen?" said shon mcgann afterwards. pierre musingly replied: "she is a protestant. there is but one man." after many pertinent and vigorous remarks, shon added, "a pagan is it, he calls you, pierre, you that's had the holy water on y'r forehead, and the cross on the water, and that knows the book o' the mass like the cards in a pack? sinner y' are, and so are we all, god save us! say i; and weavin' the stripes for our backs he may be, and little i'd think of him failin' in that: but pagan--faith, it's black should be the white of the eyes of that preachin' sneak, and a rattle of teeth in his throat--divils go round me!" the half-breed, still musing, replied: "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth--is that it, shon?" "nivir a word truer by song or by book, and stand by the text, say i. for papist i am, and papist are you; and the imps from below in y'r fingers whip poker is the game; and outlaws as they call us both--you for what it doesn't concern me, and i for a wild night in ould donegal--but pagan, wurra! whin shall it be, pierre?" "when shall it to be?" "true for you. the teeth in his throat and a lump to his eye, and what more be the will o' god. fightin' there'll be, av coorse; but by you i'll stand, and sorra inch will i give, if they'll do it with sticks or with guns, and not with the blisterin' tongue that's lied of me and me frinds--for frind i call you, pierre, that loved me little in days gone by. and proud i am not of you, nor you of me; but we've tasted the bitter of avil days together, and divils surround me, if i don't go down with you or come up with you, whichever it be! for there's dirt, as i say on their tongues, and over their shoulder they look at you, and not with an eye full front." pierre was cool, even pensive. his lips parted slightly once or twice, and showed a row of white, malicious teeth. for the rest, he looked as if he were politely interested but not moved by the excitement of the other. he slowly rolled a cigarette and replied: "he says it is a scandal that i live at fort anne. well, i was here before he came, and i shall be here after he goes--yes. a scandal--tsh! what is that? you know the word 'raca' of the book? well, there shall be more 'raca; soon --perhaps. no, there shall not be fighting as you think, shon; but--" here pierre rose, came over, and spread his fingers lightly on shon's breast "but this thing is between this man and me, shon mcgann, and you shall see a great matter. perhaps there will be blood, perhaps not-perhaps only an end." and the half-breed looked up at the irishman from under his dark brows so covertly and meaningly that shon saw visions of a trouble as silent as a plague, as resistless as a great flood. this noiseless vengeance was not after his own heart. he almost shivered as the delicate fingers drummed on his breast. "angels begird me, pretty pierre, but it's little i'd like you for enemy o' mine; for i know that you'd wait for y'r foe with death in y'r hand, and pity far from y'r heart; and y'd smile as you pulled the black-cap on y'r head, and laugh as you drew the life out of him, god knows how! arrah, give me, sez i, the crack of a stick, the bite of a gun, or the clip of a sabre's edge, with a shout in y'r mouth the while!" though pierre still listened lazily, there was a wicked fire in his eyes. his words now came from his teeth with cutting precision. "i have a great thought tonight, shon mcgann. i will tell you when we meet again. but, my friend, one must not be too rash--no, not too brutal. even the sabre should fall at the right time, and then swift and still. noise is not battle. well, 'au revoir!' to-morrow i shall tell you many things." he caught shon's hand quickly, as quickly dropped it, and went out indolently singing a favourite song,--"voici le sabre de mon pere!" it was dark. pretty pierre stood still, and thought for a while. at last he spoke aloud: "well, i shall do it, now i have him--so!" and he opened and shut his hand swiftly and firmly. he moved on, avoiding the more habited parts of the place, and by a roundabout came to a house standing very close to the bank of the river. he went softly to the door and listened. light shone through the curtain of a window. he went to the window and looked beneath the curtain. then he came back to the door, opened it very gently, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. a man seated at a table, eating, rose; a man on whom greed had set its mark--greed of the flesh, greed of men's praise, greed of money. his frame was thick-set, his body was heavily nourished, his eye was shifty but intelligent; and a close observer would have seen something elusive, something furtive and sinister, in his face. his lips were greasy with meat as he stood up, and a fear sprang to his face, so that its fat looked sickly. but he said hoarsely, and with an attempt at being brave --"how dare you enter my house with out knocking? what do you want?" the half-breed waved a hand protestingly towards him. "pardon!" he said. "be seated, and finish your meal. do you know me?" "yes, i know you." "well, as i said, do not stop your meal. i have come to speak with you very quietly about a scandal--a scandal, you understand. this is sunday night, a good time to talk of such things." pierre seated himself at the table, opposite the man. but the man replied: "i have nothing to say to you. you are--" the half-breed interrupted: "yes, i know, a pagan fattening--" here he smiled, and looked at his thin hands--"fattening for the shambles of the damned, as you have said from the pulpit, reverend ezra badgley. but you will permit me--a sinner as you say--to speak to you like this while you sit down and eat. i regret to disturb you, but you will sit, eh?" pierre's tone was smooth and low, almost deferential, and his eyes, wide open now, and hot with some hidden purpose, were fixed compellingly on the man. the missionary sat, and, having recovered slightly, fumbled with a knife and fork. a napkin was still beneath his greasy chin. he did not take it away. pierre then spoke slowly: "yes, it is a scandal concerning a sinner--and a pagan. . . . will you permit me to light a cigarette? thank you . . . . you have said many harsh things about me: well, as you see, i am amiable. i lived at fort anne before you came. they call me pretty pierre. why is my cheek so? because i drink no wine; i eat not much. pardon, pork like that on your plate--no! no! i do not take green tea as there in your cup; i do not love women, one or many. again, pardon, i say." the other drew his brows together with an attempt at pious frowning and indignation; but there was a cold, sneering smile now turned upon him, and it changed the frown to anxiety, and made his lips twitch, and the food he had eaten grow heavy within him. "i come to the scandal slowly. the woman? she was a young girl travelling from the far east, to search for a man who had--spoiled her. she was found by me and another. ah, you start so! . . . will you not listen? . . . well, she died to-night." here the missionary gasped, and caught with both hands at the table. "but before she died she gave two things into my hands: a packet of letters--a man is a fool to write such letters--and a small bottle of poison--laudanum, old-fashioned but sure. the letters were from the man at fort anne--the man, you hear! the other was for her death, if he would not take her to his arms again. women are mad when they love. and so she came to fort anne, but not in time. the scandal is great, because the man is holy--sit down!" the half-breed said the last two words sharply, but not loudly. they both sat down slowly again, looking each other in the eyes. then pierre drew from his pocket a small bottle and a packet of letters, and held them before him. "i have this to say: there are citizens of fort anne who stand for justice more than law; who have no love for the ways of st. anthony. there is a pagan, too, an outlaw, who knows when it is time to give blow for blow with the holy man. well, we understand each other, 'hein?'" the elusive, sinister look in the missionary's face was etched in strong lines now. a dogged sullenness hung about his lips. he noticed that one hand only of pretty pierre was occupied with the relics of the dead girl; the other was free to act suddenly on a hip pocket. "what do you want me to do?" he said, not whiningly, for beneath the selfish flesh and shallow outworks there were the elements of a warrior--all pulpy now, but they were there. "this," was the reply: "for you to make one more outlaw at fort anne by drinking what is in this bottle--sit down, quick, by god!" he placed the bottle within reach of the other. "then you shall have these letters; and there is the fire. after? well, you will have a great sleep, the good people will find you, they will bury you, weeping much, and no one knows here but me. refuse that, and there is the other, the law--ah, the poor girl was so very young!--and the wild justice which is sometimes quicker than law. well? well?" the missionary sat as if paralysed, his face all grey, his eyes fixed on the half-breed. "are you man or devil?" he groaned at length. with a slight, fantastic gesture pierre replied: "it was said that a devil entered into me at birth, but that was mere scandal--'peut-etre.' you shall think as you will." there was silence. the sullenness about the missionary's lips became charged with a contempt more animal than human. the reverend ezra badgley knew that the man before him was absolute in his determination, and that the pagans of fort anne would show him little mercy, while his flock would leave him to his fate. he looked at the bottle. the silence grew, so that the ticking of the watch in the missionary's pocket could be heard plainly, having for its background of sound the continuous swish of the river. pretty pierre's eyes were never taken off the other, whose gaze, again, was fixed upon the bottle with a terrible fascination. an hour, two hours, passed. the fire burned lower. it was midnight; and now the watch no longer ticked; it had fulfilled its day's work. the missionary shuddered slightly at this. he looked up to see the resolute gloom of the half-breed's eyes, and that sneering smile, fixed upon him still. then he turned once more to the bottle. . . . his heavy hand moved slowly towards it. his stubby fingers perspired and showed sickly in the light. . . . they closed about the bottle. then suddenly he raised it, and drained it at a draught. he sighed once heavily and as if a great inward pain was over. rising he took the letters silently pushed towards him, and dropped them into the fire. he went to the window, raised it, and threw the bottle into the river. the cork was left: pierre pointed to it. he took it up with a strange smile and thrust it into the coals. then he sat down by the table, leaning his arms upon it, his eyes staring painfully before him, and the forgotten napkin still about his neck. soon the eyes closed, and, with a moan on his lips, his head dropped forward on his arms. . . . pierre rose, and, looking at the figure soon to be breathless as the baked meats about it, said: "'bien,' he was not all coward. no." then he turned and went out into the night. etext editor's bookmarks: delicate revenge which hath its hour with every man good is often an occasion more than a condition he does not love pierre; but he does not pretend to love him it is not justice that fills the gaols, but law it is not much to kill or to die--that is in the game men and women are unwittingly their own executioners noise is not battle she was beginning to understand that evil is not absolute the government cherish the injin much in these days this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] pierre and his people tales of the far north by gilbert parker volume 1. contents volume 1. the patrol of the cypress hills god's garrison a hazard of the north volume 2. a prairie vagabond she of the triple chevron three outlaws volume 3. shon mcgann's tobogan ride pere champagne the scarlet hunter the stone volume 4. the tall master the crimson flag the flood in pipi valley volume 5. antoine and angelique the cipher a tragedy of nobodies a sanctuary of the plains general introduction with each volume of this subscription edition (1912) there is a special introduction, setting forth, in so far as seemed possible, the relation of each work to myself, to its companion works, and to the scheme of my literary life. only one or two things, therefore, need be said here, as i wish god-speed to this edition, which, i trust, may help to make old friends warmer friends and new friends more understanding. most of the novels and most of the short stories were suggested by incidents or characters which i had known, had heard of intimately, or, as in the case of the historical novels, had discovered in the works of historians. in no case are the main characters drawn absolutely from life; they are not portraits; and the proof of that is that no one has ever been able to identify, absolutely, any single character in these books. indeed, it would be impossible for me to restrict myself to actual portraiture. it is trite to say that photography is not art, and photography has no charm for the artist, or the humanitarian indeed, in the portrayal of life. at its best it is only an exhibition of outer formal characteristics, idiosyncrasies, and contours. freedom is the first essential of the artistic mind. as will be noticed in the introductions and original notes to several of these volumes, it is stated that they possess anachronisms; that they are not portraits of people living or dead, and that they only assume to be in harmony with the spirit of men and times and things. perhaps in the first few pages of 'the right of way' portraiture is more nearly reached than in any other of these books, but it was only the nucleus, if i may say so, of a larger development which the original charley steele never attained. in the novel he grew to represent infinitely more than the original ever represented in his short life. that would not be strange when it is remembered that the germ of the 'right of way' was growing in my mind over a long period of years, and it must necessarily have developed into a larger conception than the original character could have suggested. the same may be said of the chief characters in 'the weavers'. the story of the two brothers--david claridge and lord eglington--in that book was brewing in my mind for quite fifteen years, and the main incidents and characters of other novels in this edition had the same slow growth. my forthcoming novel, called 'the judgment house', had been in my mind for nearly twenty years and only emerged when it was full grown, as it were; when i was so familiar with the characters that they seemed as real in all ways as though they were absolute people and incidents of one's own experience. little more need be said. in outward form the publishers have made this edition beautiful. i should be ill-content if there was not also an element of beauty in the work of the author. to my mind truth alone is not sufficient. every work of art, no matter how primitive in conception, how tragic or how painful, or even how grotesque in design --like the gargoyles on notre dame must have, too, the elements of beauty--that which lures and holds, the durable and delightful thing. i have a hope that these books of mine, as faithful to life as i could make them, have also been touched here and there by the staff of beauty. otherwise their day will be short indeed; and i should wish for them a day a little longer at least than my day and span. i launch the ship. may it visit many a port! may its freight never lie neglected on the quays! introduction so far as my literary work is concerned 'pierre and his people' may be likened to a new city built upon the ashes of an old one. let me explain. while i was in australia i began a series of short stories and sketches of life in canada which i called 'pike pole sketches on the madawaska'. a very few of them were published in australia, and i brought with me to england in 1889 about twenty of them to make into a volume. i told archibald forbes, the great war correspondent, of my wish for publication, and asked him if he would mind reading the sketches and stories before i approached a publisher. he immediately consented, and one day i brought him the little brown bag containing the tales. a few days afterwards there came an invitation to lunch, and i went to clarence gate, regent's park, to learn what archibald forbes thought of my tales. we were quite merry at luncheon, and after luncheon, which for him was a glass of milk and a biscuit, forbes said to me, "those stories, parker--you have the best collection of titles i have ever known." he paused. i understood. to his mind the tales did not live up to their titles. he hastily added, "but i am going to give you a letter of introduction to macmillan. i may be wrong." my reply was: "you need not give me a letter to macmillan unless i write and ask you for it." i took my little brown bag and went back to my comfortable rooms in an old-fashioned square. i sat down before the fire on this bleak winter's night with a couple of years' work on my knee. one by one i glanced through the stories and in some cases read them carefully, and one by one i put them in the fire, and watched them burn. i was heavy at heart, but i felt that forbes was right, and my own instinct told me that my ideas were better than my performance--and forbes was right. nothing was left of the tales; not a shred of paper, not a scrap of writing. they had all gone up the chimney in smoke. there was no self-pity. i had a grim kind of feeling regarding the thing, but i had no regrets, and i have never had any regrets since. i have forgotten most of the titles, and indeed all the stories except one. but forbes and i were right; of that i am sure. the next day after the arson i walked for hours where london was busiest. the shop windows fascinated me; they always did; but that day i seemed, subconsciously, to be looking for something. at last i found it. it was a second-hand shop in covent garden. in the window there was the uniform of an officer of the time of wellington, and beside it--the leather coat and fur cap of a trapper of the hudson's bay company! at that window i commenced to build again upon the ashes of last night's fire. pretty pierre, the french half-breed, or rather the original of him as i knew him when a child, looked out of the window at me. so i went home, and sitting in front of the fire which had received my manuscript the night before, with a pad upon my knee, i began to write 'the patrol of the cypress hills' which opens 'pierre and his people'. the next day was sunday. i went to service at the foundling hospital in bloomsbury, and while listening superficially to the sermon i was also reading the psalms. i came upon these words, "free among the dead like unto them that are wounded and lie in the grave, that are out of remembrance," and this text, which i used in the story 'the patrol of the cypress hills', became, in a sense, the text for all the stories which came after. it seemed to suggest the lives and the end of the lives of the workers of the pioneer world. so it was that pierre and his people chiefly concerned those who had been wounded by fate, and had suffered the robberies of life and time while they did their work in the wide places. it may be that my readers have found what i tried, instinctively, to convey in the pioneer life i portrayed--"the soul of goodness in things evil." such, on the whole, my observation had found in life, and the original of pierre, with all his mistakes, misdemeanours, and even crimes, was such an one as i would have gone to in trouble or in hour of need, knowing that his face would never be turned from me. these stories made their place at once. the 'patrol of the cypress hills' was published first in 'the independent' of new york and in 'macmillan's magazine' in england. mr. bliss carman, then editor of 'the independent', eagerly published several of them--'she of the triple chevron' and others. mr. carman's sympathy and insight were a great help to me in those early days. the then editor of 'macmillan's magazine', mr. mowbray morris, was not, i think, quite so sure of the merits of the pierre stories. he published them, but he was a little credulous regarding them, and he did not pat me on the back by any means. there was one, however, who made the best that is in 'pierre and his people' possible; this was the unforgettable w. e. henley, editor of the 'national observer'. one day at a sitting i wrote a short story called 'antoine and angelique', and sent it to him almost before the ink was dry. the reply came by return of post: "it is almost, or quite, as good as can be. send me another." so forthwith i sent him 'god's garrison', and it was quickly followed by 'the three outlaws', 'the tall master', 'the flood', 'the cipher', 'a prairie vagabond', and several others. at length came 'the stone', which brought a telegram of congratulation, and finally 'the crimson flag'. the acknowledgment of that was a postcard containing these all too-flattering words: "bravo, balzac!" henley would print what no other editor would print; he gave a man his chance to do the boldest thing that was in him, and i can truthfully say that the doors which he threw open gave freedom to an imagination and an individuality of conception, for which i can never be sufficiently grateful. these stories and others which appeared in 'the national observer', in 'macmillan's', in 'the english illustrated magazine' and others made many friends; so that when the book at length came out it was received with generous praise, though not without some criticism. it made its place, however, at once, and later appeared another series, called 'an adventurer of the north', or, as it is called in this edition, 'a romany of the snows'. through all the twenty stories of this second volume the character of pierre moved; and by the time the last was written there was scarcely an important magazine in the english-speaking world which had not printed one or more of them. whatever may be thought of the stories themselves, or of the manner in which the life of the far north was portrayed, of one thing i am sure: pierre was true to the life--to his race, to his environment, to the conditions of pioneer life through which he moved. when the book first came out there was some criticism from canada itself, but that criticism has long since died away, and it never was determined. plays have been founded on the 'pierre' series, and one in particular, 'pierre of the plains', had a considerable success, with mr. edgar selwyn, the adapter, in the main part. i do not know whether, if i were to begin again, i should have written all the pierre stories in quite the same way. perhaps it is just as well that i am not able to begin again. the stories made their own place in their own way, and that there is still a steady demand for 'pierre and his people' and 'a romany of the snows' seems evidence that the editor of an important magazine in new york who declined to recommend them for publication to his firm (and later published several of the same series) was wrong, when he said that the tales "seemed not to be salient." things that are not "salient" do not endure. it is twenty years since 'pierre and his people' was produced--and it still endures. for this i cannot but be deeply grateful. in any case, what 'pierre' did was to open up a field which had not been opened before, but which other authors have exploited since with success and distinction. 'pierre' was the pioneer of the far north in fiction; that much may be said; and for the rest, time is the test, and time will have its way with me as with the rest. note: it is possible that a note on the country portrayed in these stories may be in keeping. until 1870, the hudson's bay company--first granted its charter by king charles ii--practically ruled that vast region stretching from the fiftieth parallel of latitude to the arctic ocean--a handful of adventurous men entrenched in forts and posts, yet trading with, and mostly peacefully conquering, many savage tribes. once the sole master of the north, the h. b. c. (as it is familiarly called) is reverenced by the indians and half-breeds as much as, if not more than, the government established at ottawa. it has had its forts within the arctic circle; it has successfully exploited a country larger than the united states. the red river valley, the saskatchewan valley, and british columbia, are now belted by a great railway, and given to the plough; but in the far north life is much the same as it was a hundred years ago. there the trapper, clerk, trader, and factor are cast in the mould of another century, though possessing the acuter energies of this. the 'voyageur' and 'courier de bois' still exist, though, generally, under less picturesque names. the bare story of the hardy and wonderful career of the adventurers trading in hudson's bay,--of whom prince rupert was once chiefest,--and the life of the prairies, may be found in histories and books of travel; but their romances, the near narratives of individual lives, have waited the telling. in this book i have tried to feel my way towards the heart of that life--worthy of being loved by all british men, for it has given honest graves to gallant fellows of our breeding. imperfectly, of course, i have done it; but there is much more to be told. when i started pretty pierre on his travels, i did not know--nor did he --how far or wide his adventurers and experiences would run. they have, however, extended from quebec in the east to british columbia in the west, and from the cypress hills in the south to the coppermine river in the north. with a less adventurous man we had had fewer happenings. his faults were not of his race, that is, french and indian,--nor were his virtues; they belong to all peoples. but the expression of these is affected by the country itself. pierre passes through this series of stories, connecting them, as he himself connects two races, and here and there links the past of the hudson's bay company with more modern life and canadian energy pushing northward. here is something of romance "pure and simple," but also traditions and character, which are the single property of this austere but not cheerless heritage of our race. all of the tales have appeared in magazines and journals--namely, 'the national observer', 'macmillan's', 'the national review', and 'the english illustrated'; and 'the independent of new york'. by the courtesy of the proprietors of these i am permitted to republish. g. p. harpenden, hertfordshire, july, 1892. book 1. the patrol of the cypress hills god's garrison a hazard of the north the patrol of the cypress hills "he's too ha'sh," said old alexander windsor, as he shut the creaking door of the store after a vanishing figure, and turned to the big iron stove with outstretched hands; hands that were cold both summer and winter. he was of lean and frigid make. "sergeant fones is too ha'sh," he repeated, as he pulled out the damper and cleared away the ashes with the iron poker. pretty pierre blew a quick, straight column of cigarette smoke into the air, tilted his chair back, and said: "i do not know what you mean by 'ha'sh,' but he is the devil. eh, well, there was more than one devil made sometime in the north west." he laughed softly. "that gives you a chance in history, pretty pierre," said a voice from behind a pile of woollen goods and buffalo skins in the centre of the floor. the owner of the voice then walked to the window. he scratched some frost from the pane and looked out to where the trooper in dog-skin coat, gauntlets and cap, was mounting his broncho. the old man came and stood near the young man,--the owner of the voice,--and said again: "he's too ha'sh." "harsh you mean, father," added the other. "yes, harsh you mean, old brown windsor,--quite harsh," said pierre. alexander windsor, storekeeper and general dealer, was sometimes called "old brown windsor" and sometimes "old aleck," to distinguish him from his son, who was known as "young aleck." as the old man walked back again to the stove to warm his hands, young aleck continued: "he does his duty, that's all. if he doesn't wear kid gloves while at it, it's his choice. he doesn't go beyond his duty. you can bank on that. it would be hard to exceed that way out here." "true, young aleck, so true; but then he wears gloves of iron, of ice. that is not good. sometime the glove will be too hard and cold on a man's shoulder, and then!--well, i should like to be there," said pierre, showing his white teeth. old aleck shivered, and held his fingers where the stove was red hot. the young man did not hear this speech; from the window he was watching sergeant fones as he rode towards the big divide. presently he said: "he's going towards humphrey's place. i--" he stopped, bent his brows, caught one corner of his slight moustache between his teeth, and did not stir a muscle until the sergeant had passed over the divide. old aleck was meanwhile dilating upon his theme before a passive listener. but pierre was only passive outwardly. besides hearkening to the father's complaints he was closely watching the son. pierre was clever, and a good actor. he had learned the power of reserve and outward immobility. the indian in him helped him there. he had heard what young aleck had just muttered; but to the man of the cold fingers he said: "you keep good whisky in spite of the law and the iron glove, old aleck." to the young man: "and you can drink it so free, eh, young aleck?" the half-breed looked out of the corners of his eyes at the young man, but he did not raise the peak of his fur cap in doing so, and his glances askance were not seen. young aleck had been writing something with his finger-nail on the frost of the pane, over and over again. when pierre spoke to him thus he scratched out the word he had written, with what seemed unnecessary force. but in one corner it remained: "mab--" pierre added: "that is what they say at humphrey's ranch." "who says that at humphrey's?--pierre, you lie!" was the sharp and threatening reply. the significance of this last statement had been often attested on the prairies by the piercing emphasis of a sixchambered revolver. it was evident that young aleck was in earnest. pierre's eyes glowed in the shadow, but he idly replied: "i do not remember quite who said it. well, 'mon ami,' perhaps i lie; perhaps. sometimes we dream things, and these dreams are true. you call it a lie--'bien!' sergeant fones, he dreams perhaps old aleck sells whisky against the law to men you call whisky runners, sometimes to indians and half-breeds--halfbreeds like pretty pierre. that was a dream of sergeant fones; but you see he believes it true. it is good sport, eh? will you not take--what is it?--a silent partner? yes; a silent partner, old aleck. pretty pierre has spare time, a little, to make money for his friends and for himself, eh?" when did not pierre have time to spare? he was a gambler. unlike the majority of half-breeds, he had a pronounced french manner, nonchalant and debonair. the indian in him gave him coolness and nerve. his cheeks had a tinge of delicate red under their whiteness, like those of a woman. that was why he was called pretty pierre. the country had, however, felt a kind of weird menace in the name. it was used to snakes whose rattle gave notice of approach or signal of danger. but pretty pierre was like the deathadder, small and beautiful, silent and deadly. at one time he had made a secret of his trade, or thought he was doing so. in those days he was often to be seen at david humphrey's home, and often in talk with mab humphrey; but it was there one night that the man who was ha'sh gave him his true character, with much candour and no comment. afterwards pierre was not seen at humphrey's ranch. men prophesied that he would have revenge some day on sergeant fones; but he did not show anything on which this opinion could be based. he took no umbrage at being called pretty pierre the gambler. but for all that he was possessed of a devil. young aleck had inherited some money through his dead mother from his grandfather, a hudson's bay factor. he had been in the east for some years, and when he came back he brought his "little pile" and an impressionable heart with him. the former pretty pierre and his friends set about to win; the latter, mab humphrey won without the trying. yet mab gave young aleck as much as he gave her. more. because her love sprang from a simple, earnest, and uncontaminated life. her purity and affection were being played against pierre's designs and young aleck's weakness. with aleck cards and liquor went together. pierre seldom drank. but what of sergeant fones? if the man that knew him best--the commandant--had been asked for his history, the reply would have been: "five years in the service, rigid disciplinarian, best non-commissioned officer on the patrol of the cypress hills." that was all the commandant knew. a soldier-policeman's life on the frontier is rough, solitary, and severe. active duty and responsibility are all that make it endurable. to few is it fascinating. a free and thoughtful nature would, however, find much in it, in spite of great hardships, to give interest and even pleasure. the sense of breadth and vastness, and the inspiration of pure air could be a very gospel of strength, beauty, and courage, to such an one--for a time. but was sergeant fones such an one? the commandant's scornful reply to a question of the kind would have been: "he is the best soldier on the patrol." and so with hard gallops here and there after the refugees of crime or misfortune, or both, who fled before them like deer among the passes of the hills, and, like deer at bay, often fought like demons to the death; with border watchings, and protection and care and vigilance of the indians; with hurried marches at sunrise, the thermometer at fifty degrees below zero often in winter, and open camps beneath the stars, and no camp at all, as often as not, winter and summer; with rough barrack fun and parade and drill and guard of prisoners; and with chances now and then to pay homage to a woman's face, the mounted force grew full of the spirit of the west and became brown, valiant, and hardy, with wind and weather. perhaps some of them longed to touch, oftener than they did, the hands of children, and to consider more the faces of women,--for hearts are hearts even under a belted coat of red on the fiftieth parallel,--but men of nerve do not blazon their feelings. no one would have accused sergeant fones of having a heart. men of keen discernment would have seen in him the little bismarck of the mounted police. his name carried farther on the cypress hills patrol than any other; and yet his officers could never say that he exceeded his duty or enlarged upon the orders he received. he had no sympathy with crime. others of the force might wink at it; but his mind appeared to sit severely upright upon the cold platform of penalty, in beholding breaches of the statutes. he would not have rained upon the unjust as the just if he had had the directing of the heavens. as private gellatly put it: "sergeant fones has the fear o' god in his heart, and the law of the land across his saddle, and the newest breech-loading at that!" he was part of the great machine of order, the servant of justice, the sentinel in the vestibule of martial law. his interpretation of duty worked upward as downward. officers and privates were acted on by the force known as sergeant fones. some people, like old brown windsor, spoke hardly and openly of this force. there were three people who never did--pretty pierre, young aleck, and mab humphrey. pierre hated him; young aleck admired in him a quality lying dormant in himself--decision; mab humphrey spoke unkindly of no one. besides--but no! what was sergeant fones's country? no one knew. where had he come from? no one asked him more than once. he could talk french with pierre, --a kind of french that sometimes made the undertone of red in the frenchman's cheeks darker. he had been heard to speak german to a german prisoner, and once, when a gang of italians were making trouble on a line of railway under construction, he arrested the leader, and, in a few swift, sharp words in the language of the rioters, settled the business. he had no accent that betrayed his nationality. he had been recommended for a commission. the officer in command had hinted that the sergeant might get a christmas present. the officer had further said: "and if it was something that both you and the patrol would be the better for, you couldn't object, sergeant." but the sergeant only saluted, looking steadily into the eyes of the officer. that was his reply. private gellatly, standing without, heard sergeant fones say, as he passed into the open air, and slowly bared his forehead to the winter sun: "exactly." and private gellatly cried, with revolt in his voice, "divils me own, the word that a't to have been full o' joy was like the clip of a riflebreech." justice in a new country is administered with promptitude and vigour, or else not administered at all. where an officer of the mounted policesoldiery has all the powers of a magistrate, the law's delay and the insolence of office have little space in which to work. one of the commonest slips of virtue in the canadian west was selling whisky contrary to the law of prohibition which prevailed. whisky runners were land smugglers. old brown windsor had, somehow, got the reputation of being connected with the whisky runners; not a very respectable business, and thought to be dangerous. whisky runners were inclined to resent intrusion on their privacy with a touch of that biting inhospitableness which a moonlighter of kentucky uses toward an inquisitive, unsympathetic marshal. on the cypress hills patrol, however, the erring servants of bacchus were having a hard time of it. vigilance never slept there in the days of which these lines bear record. old brown windsor had, in words, freely espoused the cause of the sinful. to the careless spectator it seemed a charitable siding with the suffering; a proof that the old man's heart was not so cold as his hands. sergeant fones thought differently, and his mission had just been to warn the store-keeper that there was menacing evidence gathering against him, and that his friendship with golden feather, the indian chief, had better cease at once. sergeant fones had a way of putting things. old brown windsor endeavoured for a moment to be sarcastic. this was the brief dialogue in the domain of sarcasm: "i s'pose you just lit round in a friendly sort of way, hopin' that i'd kenoodle with you later." "exactly." there was an unpleasant click to the word. the old man's hands got colder. he had nothing more to say. before leaving, the sergeant said something quietly and quickly to young aleck. pierre observed, but could not hear. young aleck was uneasy; pierre was perplexed. the sergeant turned at the door, and said in french: "what are your chances for a merry christmas at pardon's drive, pretty pierre?" pierre answered nothing. he shrugged his shoulders, and as the door closed, muttered, "il est le diable." and he meant it. what should sergeant fones know of that intended meeting at pardon's drive on christmas day? and if he knew, what then? it was not against the law to play euchre. still it perplexed pierre. before the windsors, father and son, however, he was, as we have seen, playfully cool. after quitting old brown windsor's store, sergeant fones urged his stout broncho to a quicker pace than usual. the broncho was, like himself, wasteful of neither action nor affection. the sergeant had caught him wild and independent, had brought him in, broken him, and taught him obedience. they understood each other; perhaps they loved each other. but about that even private gellatly had views in common with the general sentiment as to the character of sergeant fones. the private remarked once on this point "sarpints alive! the heels of the one and the law of the other is the love of them. they'll weather together like the divil and death." the sergeant was brooding; that was not like him. he was hesitating; that was less like him. he turned his broncho round as if to cross the big divide and to go back to windsor's store; but he changed his mind again, and rode on toward david humphrey's ranch. he sat as if he had been born in the saddle. his was a face for the artist, strong and clear, and having a dominant expression of force. the eyes were deepset and watchful. a kind of disdain might be traced in the curve of the short upper lip, to which the moustache was clipped close--a good fit, like his coat. the disdain was more marked this morning. the first part of his ride had been seen by young aleck, the second part by mab humphrey. her first thought on seeing him was one of apprehension for young aleck and those of young aleck's name. she knew that people spoke of her lover as a ne'er-do-weel; and that they associated his name freely with that of pretty pierre and his gang. she had a dread of pierre, and, only the night before, she had determined to make one last great effort to save aleck, and if he would not be saved--strange that, thinking it all over again, as she watched the figure on horseback coming nearer, her mind should swerve to what she had heard of sergeant fones's expected promotion. then she fell to wondering if anyone had ever given him a real christmas present; if he had any friends at all; if life meant anything more to him than carrying the law of the land across his saddle. again he suddenly came to her in a new thought, free from apprehension, and as the champion of her cause to defeat the half-breed and his gang, and save aleck from present danger or future perils. she was such a woman as prairies nurture; in spirit broad and thoughtful and full of energy; not so deep as the mountain woman, not so imaginative, but with more persistency, more daring. youth to her was a warmth, a glory. she hated excess and lawlessness, but she could understand it. she felt sometimes as if she must go far away into the unpeopled spaces, and shriek out her soul to the stars from the fulness of too much life. she supposed men had feelings of that kind too, but that they fell to playing cards and drinking instead of crying to the stars. still, she preferred her way. once, sergeant fones, on leaving the house, said grimly after his fashion: "not mab but ariadne--excuse a soldier's bluntness..... good-bye!" and with a brusque salute he had ridden away. what he meant she did not know and could not ask. the thought instantly came to her mind: not sergeant fones; but who? she wondered if ariadne was born on the prairie. what knew she of the girl who helped theseus, her lover, to slay the minotaur? what guessed she of the slopes of naxos? how old was ariadne? twenty? for that was mab's age. was ariadne beautiful? she ran her fingers loosely through her short brown hair, waving softly about her greek-shaped head, and reasoned that ariadne must have been presentable, or sergeant fones would not have made the comparison. she hoped ariadne could ride well, for she could. but how white the world looked this morning, and how proud and brilliant the sky! nothing in the plane of vision but waves of snow stretching to the cypress hills; far to the left a solitary house, with its tin roof flashing back the sun, and to the right the big divide. it was an oldfashioned winter, not one in which bare ground and sharp winds make life outdoors inhospitable. snow is hospitable-clean, impacted snow; restful and silent. but there was one spot in the area of white, on which mab's eyes were fixed now, with something different in them from what had been there. again it was a memory with which sergeant fones was associated. one day in the summer just past she had watched him and his company put away to rest under the cool sod, where many another lay in silent company, a prairie wanderer, some outcast from a better life gone by. afterwards, in her home, she saw the sergeant stand at the window, looking out towards the spot where the waves in the sea of grass were more regular and greener than elsewhere, and were surmounted by a high cross. she said to him--for she of all was never shy of his stern ways: "why is the grass always greenest there, sergeant fones?" he knew what she meant, and slowly said: "it is the barracks of the free." she had no views of life save those of duty and work and natural joy and loving a ne'er-do-weel, and she said: "i do not understand that." and the sergeant replied: "'free among the dead like unto them that are wounded and lie in the grave, who are out of remembrance.'" but mab said again: "i do not understand that either." the sergeant did not at once reply. he stepped to the door and gave a short command to some one without, and in a moment his company was mounted in line; handsome, dashing fellows; one the son of an english nobleman, one the brother of an eminent canadian politician, one related to a celebrated english dramatist. he ran his eye along the line, then turned to mab, raised his cap with machine-like precision, and said: "no, i suppose you do not understand that. keep aleck windsor from pretty pierre and his gang. good-bye." then he mounted and rode away. every other man in the company looked back to where the girl stood in the doorway; he did not. private gellatly said, with a shake of the head, as she was lost to view: "devils bestir me, what a widdy she'll make!" it was understood that aleck windsor and mab humphrey were to be married on the coming new year's day. what connection was there between the words of sergeant fones and those of private gellatly? none, perhaps. mab thought upon that day as she looked out, this december morning, and saw sergeant fones dismounting at the door. david humphrey, who was outside, offered to put up the sergeant's horse; but he said: "no, if you'll hold him just a moment, mr. humphrey, i'll ask for a drink of something warm, and move on. miss humphrey is inside, i suppose?" "she'll give you a drink of the best to be had on your patrol, sergeant," was the laughing reply. "thanks for that, but tea or coffee is good enough for me," said the sergeant. entering, the coffee was soon in the hand of the hardy soldier. once he paused in his drinking and scanned mab's face closely. most people would have said the sergeant had an affair of the law in hand, and was searching the face of a criminal; but most people are not good at interpretation. mab was speaking to the chore-girl at the same time and did not see the look. if she could have defined her thoughts when she, in turn, glanced into the sergeant's face, a moment afterwards, she would have said, "austerity fills this man. isolation marks him for its own." in the eyes were only purpose, decision, and command. was that the look that had been fixed upon her face a moment ago? it must have been. his features had not changed a breath. mab began their talk. "they say you are to get a christmas present of promotion, sergeant fones." "i have not seen it gazetted," he answered enigmatically. "you and your friends will be glad of it." "i like the service." "you will have more freedom with a commission." he made no reply, but rose and walked to the window, and looked out across the snow, drawing on his gauntlets as he did so. she saw that he was looking where the grass in summer was the greenest! he turned and said: "i am going to barracks now. i suppose young aleck will be in quarters here on christmas day, miss mab?" "i think so," and she blushed. "did he say he would be here?" "yes." "exactly." he looked toward the coffee. then: "thank you.....good-bye." "sergeant?" "miss humphrey!" "will you not come to us on christmas day?" his eyelids closed swiftly and opened again. "i shall be on duty." "and promoted?" "perhaps." "and merry and happy?"--she smiled to herself to think of sergeant fones being merry and happy. "exactly." the word suited him. he paused a moment with his fingers on the latch, and turned round as if to speak; pulled off his gauntlet, and then as quickly put it on again. had he meant to offer his hand in good-bye? he had never been seen to take the hand of anyone except with the might of the law visible in steel. he opened the door with the right hand, but turned round as he stepped out, so that the left held it while he faced the warmth of the room and the face of the girl. the door closed. mounted, and having said good-bye to mr. humphrey, he turned towards the house, raised his cap with soldierly brusqueness, and rode away in the direction of the barracks. the girl did not watch him. she was thinking of young aleck, and of christmas day, now near. the sergeant did not look back. meantime the party at windsor's store was broken up. pretty pierre and young aleck had talked together, and the old man had heard his son say: "remember, pierre, it is for the last time." then they talked after this fashion: "ah, i know, 'mon ami;' for the last time! 'eh, bien,' you will spend christmas day with us too--no? you surely will not leave us on the day of good fortune? where better can you take your pleasure for the last time? one day is not enough for farewell. two, three; that is the magic number. you will, eh? no? well, well, you will come to-morrow--and--eh, 'mon ami,' where do you go the next day? oh, 'pardon,' i forgot, you spend the christmas day--i know. and the day of the new year? ah, young aleck, that is what they say--the devil for the devil's luck. so." "stop that, pierre." there was fierceness in the tone. "i spend the christmas day where you don't, and as i like, and the rest doesn't concern you. i drink with you, i play with you--'bien!' as you say yourself, 'bien,' isn't that enough?" "'pardon!' we will not quarrel. no; we spend not the christmas day after the same fashion, quite. then, to-morrow at pardon's drive! adieu!" pretty pierre went out of one door, a malediction between his white teeth, and aleck went out of another door with a malediction upon his gloomy lips. but both maledictions were levelled at the same person. poor aleck. "poor aleck!" that is the way we sometimes think of a good nature gone awry; one that has learned to say cruel maledictions to itself, and against which demons hurl their deadly maledictions too. alas, for the ne'er-do-weel! that night a stalwart figure passed from david humphrey's door, carrying with him the warm atmosphere of a good woman's love. the chilly outer air of the world seemed not to touch him, love's curtains were drawn so close. had one stood within "the hunter's room," as it was called, a little while before, one would have seen a man's head bowed before a woman, and her hand smoothing back the hair from the handsome brow where dissipation had drawn some deep lines. presently the hand raised the head until the eyes of the woman looked full into the eyes of the man. "you will not go to pardon's drive again, will you, aleck?" "never again after christmas day, mab. but i must go to-morrow. i have given my word." "i know. to meet pretty pierre and all the rest, and for what? oh, aleck, isn't the suspicion about your father enough, but you must put this on me as well?" "my father must suffer for his wrong-doing if he does wrong, and i for mine." there was a moment's silence. he bowed his head again. "and i have done wrong to us both. forgive me, mab." she leaned over and caressed his hair. "i forgive you, aleck." a thousand new thoughts were thrilling through him. yet this man had given his word to do that for which he must ask forgiveness of the woman he loved. but to pretty pierre, forgiven or unforgiven, he would keep his word. she understood it better than most of those who read this brief record can. every sphere has its code of honour and duty peculiar to itself. "you will come to me on christmas morning, aleck?" "i will come on christmas morning." "and no more after that of pretty pierre?" "and no more of pretty pierre." she trusted him; but neither could reckon with unknown forces. sergeant fones, sitting in the barracks in talk with private gellatly, said at that moment in a swift silence, "exactly." pretty pierre, at pardon's drive, drinking a glass of brandy at that moment, said to the ceiling: "no more of pretty pierre after to-morrow night, monsieur! bien! if it is for the last time, then it is for the last time. so....so." he smiled. his teeth were amazingly white. the stalwart figure strode on under the stars, the white night a lens for visions of days of rejoicing to come. all evil was far from him. the dolorous tide rolled back in this hour from his life, and he revelled in the light of a new day. "when i've played my last card to-morrow night with pretty pierre, i'll begin the world again," he whispered. and sergeant fones in the barracks said just then, in response to a further remark of private gellatly,--"exactly." young aleck fell to singing: "out from your vineland come into the prairies wild; here will we make our home, father, mother, and child; come, my love, to our home, father, mother, and child, father, mother, and--" he fell to thinking again--"and child--and child,"--it was in his ears and in his heart. but pretty pierre was singing softly to himself in the room at pardon's drive: "three good friends with the wine at night vive la compagnie! two good friends when the sun grows bright vive la compagnie! vive la, vive la, vive l'amour! vive la, vive la, vive l'amour! three good friends, two good friends vive la compagnie!" what did it mean? private gellatly was cousin to idaho jack, and idaho jack disliked pretty pierre, though he had been one of the gang. the cousins had seen each other lately, and private gellatly had had a talk with the man who was ha'sh. it may be that others besides pierre had an idea of what it meant. in the house at pardon's drive the next night sat eight men, of whom three were pretty pierre, young aleck, and idaho jack. young aleck's face was flushed with bad liquor and the worse excitement of play. this was one of the unreckoned forces. was this the man that sang the tender song under the stars last night? pretty pierre's face was less pretty than usual; the cheeks were pallid, the eyes were hard and cold. once he looked at his partner as if to say, "not yet." idaho jack saw the look; he glanced at his watch; it was eleven o'clock. at that moment the door opened, and sergeant fones entered. all started to their feet, most with curses on their lips; but sergeant fones never seemed to hear anything that could make a feature of his face alter. pierre's hand was on his hip, as if feeling for something. sergeant fones saw that; but he walked to where aleck stood, with his unplayed cards still in his hand, and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said, "come with me." "why should i go with you?"--this with a drunken man's bravado. "you are my prisoner." pierre stepped forward. "what is his crime?" he exclaimed. "how does that concern you, pretty pierre?" "he is my friend." "is he your friend, aleck?" what was there in the eyes of sergeant fones that forced the reply,-"to-night, yes; to-morrow, no." "exactly. it is near to-morrow; come." aleck was led towards the door. once more pierre's hand went to his hip; but he was looking at the prisoner, not at the sergeant. the sergeant saw, and his fingers were at his belt. he opened the door. aleck passed out. he followed. two horses were tied to a post. with difficulty aleck was mounted. once on the way his brain began slowly to clear, but he grew painfully cold. it was a bitter night. how bitter it might have been for the ne'er-do-weel let the words of idaho jack, spoken in a long hour's talk next day with old brown windsor, show. "pretty pierre, after the two were gone, said, with a shiver of curses,--'another hour and it would have been done, and no one to blame. he was ready for trouble. his money was nearly finished. a little quarrel easily made, the door would open, and he would pass out. his horse would be gone, he could not come back; he would walk. the air is cold, quite, quite cold; and the snow is a soft bed. he would sleep well and sound, having seen pretty pierre for the last time. and now--' the rest was french and furtive." from that hour idaho jack and pretty pierre parted company. riding from pardon's drive, young aleck noticed at last that they were not going towards the barracks. he said: "why do you arrest me?" the sergeant replied: "you will know that soon enough. you are now going to your own home. tomorrow you will keep your word and go to david humphrey's place; the next day i will come for you. which do you choose: to ride with me to-night to the barracks and know why you are arrested, or go, unknowing, as i bid you, and keep your word with the girl?" through aleck's fevered brain, there ran the words of the song he sang before- "out from your vineland come into the prairies wild; here will we make our home, father, mother, and child." he could have but one answer. at the door of his home the sergeant left him with the words, "remember you are on parole." aleck noticed as the sergeant rode away that the face of the sky had changed, and slight gusts of wind had come up. at any other time his mind would have dwelt upon the fact. it did not do so now. christmas day came. people said that the fiercest night, since the blizzard day of 1863, had been passed. but the morning was clear and beautiful. the sun came up like a great flower expanding. first the yellow, then the purple, then the red, and then a mighty shield of roses. the world was a blanket of drift, and down, and glistening silver. mab humphrey greeted her lover with such a smile as only springs to a thankful woman's lips. he had given his word and had kept it; and the path of the future seemed surer. he was a prisoner on parole; still that did not depress him. plans for coming days were talked of, and the laughter of many voices filled the house. the ne'er-do-weel was clothed and in his right mind. in the hunter's room the noblest trophy was the heart of a repentant prodigal. in the barracks that morning a gazetted notice was posted, announcing, with such technical language as is the custom, that sergeant fones was promoted to be a lieutenant in the mounted police force of the north west territory. when the officer in command sent for him he could not be found. but he was found that morning; and when private gellatly, with a warm hand, touching the glove of "iron and ice" that, indeed, now said: "sergeant fones, you are promoted, god help you!" he gave no sign. motionless, stern, erect, he sat there upon his horse, beside a stunted larch tree. the broncho seemed to understand, for he did not stir, and had not done so for hours;--they could tell that. the bridle rein was still in the frigid fingers, and a smile was upon the face. a smile upon the face of sergeant fones! perhaps he smiled that he was going to the barracks of the free-"free among the dead like unto them that are wounded and lie in the grave, that are out of remembrance." in the wild night he had lost his way, though but a few miles from the barracks. he had done his duty rigidly in that sphere of life where he had lived so much alone among his many comrades. had he exceeded his duty once in arresting young aleck? when, the next day, sergeant fones lay in the barracks, over him the flag for which he had sworn to do honest service, and his promotion papers in his quiet hand, the two who loved each other stood beside him for many a throbbing minute. and one said to herself, silently: "i felt sometimes" --but no more words did she say even to herself. old aleck came in, and walked to where the sergeant slept, wrapped close in that white frosted coverlet which man wears but once. he stood for a moment silent, his fingers numbly clasped. private gellatly spoke softly: "angels betide me, it's little we knew the great of him till he wint away; the pride, and the law--and the love of him." in the tragedy that faced them this christmas morning one at least had seen "the love of him." perhaps the broncho had known it before. old aleck laid a palm upon the hand he had never touched when it had life. "he's--too--ha'sh," he said slowly. private gellatly looked up wonderingly. but the old man's eyes were wet. god's garrison twenty years ago there was trouble at fort o' god. "out of this place we get betwixt the suns," said gyng the factor. "no help that falls abaft tomorrow could save us. food dwindles, and ammunition's nearly gone, and they'll have the cold steel in our scalp-locks if we stay. we'll creep along the devil's causeway, then through the red horn woods, and so across the plains to rupert house. whip in the dogs, baptiste, and be ready all of you at midnight." "and grah the idiot--what of him?" asked pretty pierre. "he'll have to take his chance. if he can travel with us, so much the better for him"; and the factor shrugged his shoulders. "if not, so much the worse, eh?" returned pretty pierre. "work the sum out to suit yourself. we've got our necks to save. god'll have to help the idiot if we can't." "you hear, grah hamon, idiot," said pierre an hour afterwards, "we're going to leave fort o' god and make for rupert house. you've a dragging leg, you're gone in the savvy, you have to balance yourself with your hands as you waddle along, and you slobber when you talk; but you've got to cut away with us quick across the beaver plains, and christ'll have to help you if we can't. that's what the factor says, and that's how the case stands, idiot--'bien?'" "grah want pipe--bubble--bubble--wind blow," muttered the daft one. pretty pierre bent over and said slowly: "if you stay here, grah, the indian get your scalp; if you go, the snow is deep and the frost is like a badger's tooth, and you can't be carried." "oh, oh!--my mother dead--poor annie--by god, grah want pipe--poor grah sleep in snow-bubble, bubble--oh, oh!--the long wind, fly away." pretty pierre watched the great head of the idiot as it swung heavily on his shoulders, and then said: "'mais,' like that, so!" and turned away. when the party were about to sally forth on their perilous path to safety, gyng stood and cried angrily: "well, why hasn't some one bundled up that moth-eaten caliban? curse it all, must i do everything myself?" "but you see," said pierre, "the caliban stays at fort o' god." "you've got a christian heart in you, so help me, heaven!" replied the other. "no, sir, we give him a chance,--and his maker too for that matter, to show what he's willing to do for his misfits." pretty pierre rejoined, "well, i have thought. the game is all against grah if he go; but there are two who stay at fort o' god." and that is how, when the factor and his half-breeds and trappers stole away in silence towards the devil's causeway, pierre and the idiot remained behind. and that is why the flag of the h. b. c. still flew above fort o' god in the new year's sun just twenty years ago to-day. the hudson's bay company had never done a worse day's work than when they promoted gyng to be chief factor. he loathed the heathen and he showed his loathing. he had a heart harder than iron, a speech that bruised worse than the hoof of an angry moose. and when at last he drove away a band of wandering sioux, foodless, from the stores, siege and ambush took the place of prayer, and a nasty portion fell to fort o' god. for the indians found a great cache of buffalo meat, and, having sent the women and children south with the old men, gave constant and biting assurances to gyng that the heathen hath his hour, even though he be a dog which is refused those scraps from the white man's table which give life in the hour of need. besides all else, there was in the fort the thing which the gods made last to humble the pride of men--there was rum. and the morning after gyng and his men had departed, because it was a day when frost was master of the sun, and men grew wild for action, since to stand still was to face indignant death, they, who camped without, prepared to make a sally upon the wooden gates. pierre saw their intent, and hid in the ground some pemmican and all the scanty rum. then he looked at his powder and shot, and saw that there was little left. if he spent it on the besiegers, how should they fare for beast and fowl in hungry days? and for his rifle he had but a brace of bullets. he rolled these in his hand, looking upon them with a grim smile. and the idiot, seeing, rose and sidled towards him, and said: "poor grah want pipe-bubble--bubble." then a light of childish cunning came into his eyes, and he touched the bullets blunderingly, and continued: "plenty, plenty b'longs grah--give poor grah pipe--plenty, plenty, give you these." and pretty pierre after a moment replied: "so that's it, grah?--you've got bullets stowed away? well, i must have them. it's a one-sided game in which you get the tricks; but here's the pipe, idiot--my only pipe for your dribbling mouth--my last good comrade. now show me the bullets. take me to them, daft one, quick." a little later the idiot sat inside the store, wrapped in loose furs, and blowing bubbles; while pretty pierre, with many handfuls of bullets by him, waited for the attack. "eh," he said, as he watched from a loophole, "gyng and the others have got safely past the causeway, and the rest is possible. well, it hurts an idiot as much to die, perhaps, as a half-breed or a factor. it is good to stay here. if we fight, and go out swift like grah's bubbles, it is the game. if we starve and sleep as did grah's mother, then it also is the game. it is great to have all the chances against and then to win. we shall see." with a sharp relish in his eye he watched the enemy coming slowly forward. yet he talked almost idly to himself: "i have a thought of so long ago. a woman--she was a mother, and it was on the madawaska river, and she said: 'sometimes i think a devil was your father, an angel sometimes. you were begot in an hour between a fighting and a mass: between blood and heaven. and when you were born you made no cry. they said that was a sign of evil. you refused the breast, and drank only of the milk of wild cattle. in baptism you flung your hand before your face that the water might not touch, nor the priest's finger make a cross upon the water. and they said it were better if you had been born an idiot than with an evil spirit; and that your hand would be against the loins that bore you. but pierre, ah pierre, you love your mother, do you not?'" . . . and he standing now, his eye closed with the gate-chink in front of fort o' god, said quietly: "she was of the race that hated these--my mother; and she died of a wound they gave her at the tete blanche hill. well, for that you die now, yellow arm, if this gun has a bullet cold enough." a bullet pinged through the sharp air, as the indians swarmed towards the gate, and yellow arm, the chief, fell. the besiegers paused; and then, as if at the command of the fallen man, they drew back, bearing him to the camp, where they sat down and mourned. pierre watched them for a time; and, seeing that they made no further move, retired into the store, where the idiot muttered and was happy after his kind. "grah got pipe--blow away--blow away to annie--pretty soon." "yes, grah, there's chance enough that you'll blow away to annie pretty soon," remarked the other. "grah have white eagles--fly, fly on the wind--oh, oh, bubble, bubble!" and he sent the filmy globes floating from the pipe that a camp of riverdrivers had given the half-breed winters before. pierre stood and looked at the wandering eyes, behind which were the torturings of an immense and confused intelligence; a life that fell deformed before the weight of too much brain, so that all tottered from the womb into the gutters of foolishness, and the tongue mumbled of chaos when it should have told marvellous things. and the half-breed, the thought of this coming upon him, said: "well, i think the matters of hell have fallen across the things of heaven, and there is storm. if for one moment he could think clear, it would be great." he bethought him of a certain chant, taught him by a medicine man in childhood, which, sung to the waving of a torch in a place of darkness, caused evil spirits to pass from those possessed, and good spirits to reign in their stead. and he raised the idiot to his feet, and brought him, maundering, to a room where no light was. he kneeled before him with a lighted torch of bear's fat and the tendons of the deer, and waving it gently to and fro, sang the ancient rune, until the eye of the idiot, following the torch at a tangent as it waved, suddenly became fixed upon the flame, when it ceased to move. and the words of the chant ran through grah's ears, and pierced to the remote parts of his being; and a sickening trouble came upon his face, and the lips ceased to drip, and were caught up in twinges of pain. . . . the chant rolled on: "go forth, go forth upon them, thou, the scarlet hunter! drive them forth into the wilds, drive them crying forth! enter in, o enter in, and lie upon the couch of peace, the couch of peace within my wigwam, thou the wise one! behold, i call to thee!" and pierre, looking upon the idiot, saw his face glow, and his eye stream steadily to the light, and he said, "what is it that you see, grah?-speak!" all pitifulness and struggle had gone from the idiot's face, and a strong calm fell upon it, and the voice of a man that god had created spoke slowly: "there is an end of blood. the great chief yellow arm is fallen. he goeth to the plains where his wife will mourn upon his knees, and his children cry, because he that gathered food is gone, and the pots are empty on the fire. and they who follow him shall fight no more. two shall live through bitter days, and when the leaves shall shine in the sun again, there shall good things befal. but one shall go upon a long journey with the singing birds in the path of the white eagle. he shall travel, and not cease until he reach the place where fools, and children, and they into whom a devil entered through the gates of birth, find the mothers who bore them. but the other goeth at a different time--" at this point the light in pretty pierre's hand flickered and went out, and through the darkness there came a voice, the voice of an idiot, that whimpered: "grah want pipe--annie, annie dead." the angel of wisdom was gone, and chaos spluttered on the lolling lips again; the idiot sat feeling for the pipe that he had dropped. and never again through the days that came and went could pierre, by any conjuring, or any swaying torch, make the fool into a man again. the devils of confusion were returned forever. but there had been one glimpse of the god. and it was as the idiot had said when he saw with the eyes of that god: no more blood was shed. the garrison of this fort held it unmolested. the besiegers knew not that two men only stayed within the walls; and because the chief begged to be taken south to die, they left the place surrounded by its moats of ice and its trenches of famine; and they came not back. but other foes more deadly than the angry heathen came, and they were called hunger and loneliness. the one destroyeth the body and the other the brain. but grah was not lonely, nor did he hunger. he blew his bubbles, and muttered of a wind whereon a useless thing--a film of water, a butterfly, or a fool--might ride beyond the reach of spirit, or man, or heathen. his flesh remained the same, and grew not less; but that of pierre wasted, and his eye grew darker with suffering. for man is only man, and hunger is a cruel thing. to give one's food to feed a fool, and to search the silent plains in vain for any living thing to kill, is a matter for angels to do and bear, and not mere mortals. but this man had a strength of his own like to his code of living, which was his own and not another's. and at last, when spring leaped gaily forth from the grey cloak of winter, and men of the h. b. c. came to relieve fort o' god, and entered at its gates, a gaunt man, leaning on his rifle, greeted them standing like a warrior, though his body was like that of one who had lain in the grave. he answered to the name of pierre without pride, but like a man and not as a sick woman. and huddled on the floor beside him was an idiot fondling a pipe, with a shred of pemmican at his lips. as if in irony of man's sacrifice, the all hail and the master of things permitted the fool to fulfil his own prophecy, and die of a sudden sickness in the coming-on of summer. but he of god's garrison that remained repented not of his deed. such men have no repentance, neither of good nor evil. a hazard of the north nobody except gregory thorne and myself knows the history of the man and woman, who lived on the height of land, just where dog ear river falls into marigold lake. this portion of the height of land is a lonely country. the sun marches over it distantly, and the man of the east-the braggart--calls it outcast; but animals love it; and the shades of the long-gone trapper and 'voyageur' saunter without mourning through its fastnesses. when you are in doubt, trust god's dumb creatures--and the happy dead who whisper pleasant promptings to us, and whose knowledge is mighty. besides, the man and woman lived there, and gregory thorne says that they could recover a lost paradise. but gregory thorne is an insolent youth. the names of these people were john and audrey malbrouck; the man was known to the makers of backwoods history as captain john. gregory says about that--but no, not yet!--let his first meeting with the man and the woman be described in his own words, unusual and flippant as they sometimes are; for though he is a graduate of trinity college, cambridge, and a brother of a right honourable, he has conceived it his duty to emancipate himself in the matter of style in language; and he has succeeded. "it was autumn," he said, "all colours; beautiful and nippy on the height of land; wild ducks, the which no man could number, and bear's meat abroad in the world. i was alone. i had hunted all day, leaving my mark now and then as i journeyed, with a cache of slaughter here, and a blazed hickory there. i was hungry as a circus tiger--did you ever eat slippery elm bark?--yes, i was as bad as that. i guessed from what i had been told, that the malbrouck show must be hereaway somewhere. i smelled the lake miles off--oh, you could too if you were half the animal i am; i followed my nose and the slippery-elm between my teeth, and came at a double-quick suddenly on the fair domain. there the two sat in front of the house like turtle-doves, and as silent as a middy after his first kiss. much as i ached to get my tooth into something filling, i wished that i had 'em under my pencil, with that royal sun making a rainbow of the lake, the woods all scarlet and gold, and that mist of purple--eh, you've seen it?--and they sitting there monarchs of it all, like that duffer of a king who had operas played for his solitary benefit. but i hadn't a pencil and i had a hunger, and i said 'how!' like any other injin--insolent, wasn't it? then the man rose, and he said i was welcome, and she smiled an approving but not very immediate smile, and she kept her seat,--she kept her seat, my boy,--and that was the first thing that set me thinking. she didn't seem to be conscious that there was before her one of the latest representatives from belgravia, not she! but when i took an honest look at her face, i understood. i'm glad that i had my hat in my hand, polite as any frenchman on the threshold of a blanchisserie: for i learned very soon that the woman had been in belgravia too, and knew far more than i did about what was what. when she did rise to array the supper table, it struck me that if josephine beauharnais had been like her, she might have kept her hold on napoleon, and saved his fortunes; made europe france; and france the world. i could not understand it. jimmy haldane had said to me when i was asking for malbrouck's place on the compass,--'don't put on any side with them, my greg, or you'll take a day off for penitence.' they were both tall and good to look at, even if he was a bit rugged, with neck all wire and muscle, and had big knuckles. but she had hands like those in a picture of velasquez, with a warm whiteness and educated--that's it, educated hands. "she wasn't young, but she seemed so. her eyes looked up and out at you earnestly, yet not inquisitively, and more occupied with something in her mind, than with what was before her. in short, she was a lady; not one by virtue of a visit to the gods that rule o'er buckingham palace, but by the claims of good breeding and long descent. she puzzled me, eluded me --she reminded me of someone; but who? someone i liked, because i felt a thrill of admiration whenever i looked at her--but it was no use, i couldn't remember. i soon found myself talking to her according to st. james--the palace, you know--and at once i entered a bet with my beloved aunt, the dowager--who never refuses to take my offer, though she seldom wins, and she's ten thousand miles away, and has to take my word for it-that i should find out the history of this man and woman before another christmas morning, which wasn't more than two months off. you know whether or not i won it, my son." i had frequently hinted to gregory that i was old enough to be his father, and that in calling me his son, his language was misplaced; and i repeated it at that moment. he nodded good-humouredly, and continued: "i was born insolent, my s--my ancestor. well, after i had cleared a space at the supper table, and had, with permission, lighted my pipe, i began to talk. . . oh yes, i did give them a chance occasionally; don't interrupt. . . . i gossiped about england, france, the universe. from the brief comments they made i saw they knew all about it, and understood my social argot, all but a few words--is there anything peculiar about any of my words? after having exhausted europe and asia i discussed america; talked about quebec, the folklore of the french canadians, the 'voyageurs' from old maisonneuve down. all the history i knew i rallied, and was suddenly bowled out. for malbrouck followed my trail from the time i began to talk, and in ten minutes he had proved me to be a baby in knowledge, an emaciated baby; he eliminated me from the equation. he first tripped me on the training of naval cadets; then on the crimea; then on the taking of quebec; then on the franco-prussian war; then, with a sudden round-up, on india. i had been trusting to vague outlines of history; i felt when he began to talk that i was dealing with a man who not only knew history, but had lived it. he talked in the fewest but directest words, and waxed eloquent in a blunt and colossal way. but seeing his wife's eyes fixed on him intently, he suddenly pulled up, and no more did i get from him on the subject. he stopped so suddenly that in order to help over the awkwardness, though i'm not really sure there was any, i began to hum a song to myself. now, upon my soul, i didn't think what i was humming; it was some subterranean association of things, i suppose--but that doesn't matter here. i only state it to clear myself of any unnecessary insolence. these were the words i was maundering with this noble voice of mine: "'the news i bring, fair lady, will make your tears run down put off your rose-red dress so fine and doff your satin gown! monsieur malbrouck is dead, alas! and buried, too, for aye; i saw four officers who bore his mighty corse away. ............. we saw above the laurels, his soul fly forth amain. and each one fell upon his face and then rose up again. and so we sang the glories, for which great malbrouck bled; mironton, mironton, mirontaine, great malbrouck, he is dead.' "i felt the silence grow peculiar, uncomfortable. i looked up. mrs. malbrouck was rising to her feet with a look in her face that would make angels sorry--a startled, sorrowful thing that comes from a sleeping pain. what an ass i was! why, the man's name was malbrouck; her name was malbrouck--awful insolence! but surely there was something in the story of the song itself that had moved her. as i afterward knew, that was it. malbrouck sat still and unmoved, though i thought i saw something stern and masterful in his face as he turned to me; but again instantly his eyes were bent on his wife with a comforting and affectionate expression. she disappeared into the house. hoping to make it appear that i hadn't noticed anything, i dropped my voice a little and went on, intending, however, to stop at the end of the verse: "'malbrouck has gone a-fighting, mironton, mironton, mirontaine!' "i ended there; because malbrouck's heavy hand was laid on my shoulder, and he said: 'if you please, not that song.' "i suspect i acted like an idiot. i stammered out apologies, went down on my litanies, figuratively speaking, and was all the same confident that my excuses were making bad infernally worse. but somehow the old chap had taken a liking to me.--no, of course you couldn't understand that. not that he was so old, you know; but he had the way of retired royalty about him, as if he had lived life up to the hilt, and was all pulse and granite. then he began to talk in his quiet way about hunting and fishing; about stalking in the highlands and tiger-hunting in india; and wound up with some wonderful stuff about moose-hunting, the sport of canada. this made me itch like sin, just to get my fingers on a trigger, with a full moose-yard in view. i can feel it now--the bound in the blood as i caught at malbrouck's arm and said: 'by george, i must kill moose; that's sport for vikings, and i was meant to be a viking--or a gladiator.' malbrouck at once replied that he would give me some moosehunting in december if i would come up to marigold lake. i couldn't exactly reply on the instant, because, you see, there wasn't much chance for board and lodging thereabouts, unless--but he went on to say that i should make his house my 'public,'perhaps he didn't say it quite in those terms, that he and his wife would be glad to have me. with a couple of indians we could go north-west, where the moose-yards were, and have some sport both exciting and prodigious. well, i'm a muff, i know, but i didn't refuse that. besides, i began to see the safe side of the bet i had made with my aunt, the dowager, and i was more than pleased with what had come to pass so far. lucky for you, too, you yarn-spinner, that the thing did develop so, or you wouldn't be getting fame and shekels out of the results of my story. "well, i got one thing out of the night's experience; and it was that the malbroucks were no plebs., that they had had their day where plates are blue and gold and the spoons are solid coin. but what had sent them up here among the moose, the indians, and the conies--whatever they are? how should i get at it? insolence, you say? yes, that. i should come up here in december, and i should mulct my aunt in the price of a new breech-loader. but i found out nothing the next morning, and i left with a paternal benediction from malbrouck, and a smile from his wife that sent my blood tingling as it hadn't tingled since a certain season in london, which began with my tuneful lyre sounding hopeful numbers and ended with it hanging on the willows. "when i thought it all over, as i trudged back on yesterday's track, i concluded that i had told them all my history from my youth up until now, and had got nothing from them in return. i had exhausted my family records, bit by bit, like a curate in his first parish; and had gone so far as to testify that one of my ancestors had been banished to australia for political crimes. distinctly they had me at an advantage, though, to be sure, i had betrayed mrs. malbrouck into something more than a suspicion of emotion. "when i got back to my old camp, i could find out nothing from the other fellows; but jacques pontiac told me that his old mate, pretty pierre, who in recent days had fallen from grace, knew something of these people that no one else guessed, because he had let them a part of his house in the parish of st. genevieve in quebec, years before. pierre had testified to one fact, that a child--a girl--had been born to mrs. malbrouck in his house, but all further knowledge he had withheld. pretty pierre was off in the rocky mountains practising his profession --chiefly poker--and was not available for information. what did i, gregory thorne, want of the information anyway? that's the point, my son. judging from after-developments i suppose it was what the foolish call occult sympathy. well, where was that girl-child? jacques pontiac didn't know. nobody knew. and i couldn't get rid of mrs. malbrouck's face; it haunted me; the broad brow, deep eyes, and high-bred sweetness --all beautifully animal. don't laugh: i find astonishing likenesses between the perfectly human and the perfectly animal. did you never see how beautiful and modest the faces of deer are; how chic and sensitive is the manner of a hound; nor the keen, warm look in the eye of a well-bred mare? why, i'd rather be a good horse of blood and temper than half the fellows i know. you are not an animal lover as i am; yes, even when i shoot them or fight them i admire them, just as i'd admire a swordsman who, in 'quart,' would give me death by the wonderful upper thrust. it's all a battle; all a game of love and slaughter, my son, and both go together. "well, as i say, her face followed me. watch how the thing developed. by the prairie-track i went over to fort desire, near the rockies, almost immediately after this, to see about buying a ranch with my old chum at trinity, polly cliffshawe--polydore, you know. whom should i meet in a hut on the ranch but jacques's friend, pretty pierre. this was luck; but he was not like jacques pontiac, he was secretive as a buddhist deity. he had a good many of the characteristics that go to a fashionable diplomatist: clever, wicked, cool, and in speech doing the vanishing trick just when you wanted him. but my star of fortune was with me. one day silverbottle, an indian, being in a murderous humour, put a bullet in pretty pierre's leg, and would have added another, only i stopped it suddenly. while in his bed he told me what he knew of the malbroucks. "this is the fashion of it. john and audrey malbrouck had come to quebec in the year 1865, and sojourned in the parish of st. genevieve, in the house of the mother of pretty pierre. of an inquiring turn of mind, the french half-breed desired to know concerning the history of these english people, who, being poor, were yet gentle, and spoke french with a grace and accent which was to the french-canadian patois as shakespeare's english is to that of seven dials. pierre's methods of inquisitiveness were not strictly dishonest. he did not open letters, he did not besiege dispatch-boxes, he did not ask impudent questions; he watched and listened. in his own way he found out that the man had been a soldier in the ranks, and that he had served in india. they were most attached to the child, whose name was marguerite. one day a visitor, a lady, came to them. she seemed to be the cause of much unhappiness to mrs. malbrouck. and pierre was alert enough to discover that this distinguished-looking person desired to take the child away with her. to this the young mother would not consent, and the visitor departed with some chillingly-polite phrases, part english, part french, beyond the exact comprehension of pierre, and leaving the father and mother and little marguerite happy. then, however, these people seemed to become suddenly poorer, and malbrouck began farming in a humble, but not entirely successful way. the energy of the man was prodigious; but his luck was sardonic. floods destroyed his first crops, prices ran low, debt accumulated, foreclosure of mortgage occurred, and malbrouck and the wife and child went west. "five years later, pretty pierre saw them again at marigold lake: malbrouck as agent for the hudson's bay company--still poor, but contented. it was at this period that the former visitor again appeared, clothed in purple and fine linen, and, strange as it may seem, succeeded in carrying off the little child, leaving the father and mother broken, but still devoted to each other. "pretty pierre closed his narration with these words: ''bien,' that malbrouck, he is great. i have not much love of men, but he--well, if he say,--"see, pierre, i go to the home of the white bear and the winter that never ends; perhaps we come back, perhaps we die; but there will be sport for men--" 'voila!' i would go. to know one strong man in this world is good. perhaps, some time i will go to him--yes, pierre, the gambler, will go to him, and say: it is good for the wild dog that he live near the lion. and the child, she was beautiful; she had a light heart and a sweet way.'" it was with this slight knowledge that gregory thorne set out on his journey over the great canadian prairie to marigold lake, for his december moose-hunt. gregory has since told me that, as he travelled with jacques pontiac across the height of land to his destination, he had uncomfortable feelings; presentiments, peculiar reflections of the past, and melancholy --a thing far from habitual with him. insolence is all very well, but you cannot apply it to indefinite thoughts; it isn't effective with vague presentiments. and when gregory's insolence was taken away from him, he was very like other mortals; virtue had gone out of him; his brown cheek and frank eye had lost something of their charm. it was these unusual broodings that worried him; he waked up suddenly one night calling, "margaret! margaret!" like any childlike lover. and that did not please him. he believed in things that, as he said himself, "he could get between his fingers;" he had little sympathy with morbid sentimentalities. but there was an english margaret in his life; and he, like many another childlike man, had fallen in love, and with her--very much in love indeed; and a star had crossed his love to a degree that greatly shocked him and pleased the girl's relatives. she was the granddaughter of a certain haughty dame of high degree, who regarded icily this poorest of younger sons, and held her darling aloof. gregory, very like a blunt unreasoning lover, sought to carry the redoubt by wild assault; and was overwhelmingly routed. the young lady, though finding some avowed pleasure in his company, accompanied by brilliant misunderstanding of his advances and full-front speeches, had never given him enough encouragement to warrant his playing young lochinvar in park lane; and his cup became full when, at the close of the season, she was whisked off to the seclusion of a country-seat, whose walls to him were impregnable. his defeat was then, and afterwards, complete. he pluckily replied to the derision of his relatives with multiplied derision, demanded his inheritance, got his traps together, bought a fur coat, and straightway sailed the wintry seas to canada. his experiences had not soured his temper. he believed that every dog has his day, and that fate was very malicious; that it brought down the proud, and rewarded the patient; that it took up its abode in marble halls, and was the mocker at the feast. all this had reference, of course, to the time when he should--rich as any nabob--return to london, and be victorious over his enemy in park lane. it was singular that he believed this thing would occur; but he did. he had not yet made his fortune, but he had been successful in the game of buying and selling lands, and luck seemed to dog his path. he was fearless, and he had a keen eye for all the points of every game--every game but love. yet he was born to succeed in that game too. for though his theory was, that everything should be treated with impertinence before you could get a proper view of it, he was markedly respectful to people. few could resist him; his impudence of ideas was so pleasantly mixed with delicately suggested admiration of those to whom he talked. it was impossible that john malbrouck and his wife could have received him other than they did; his was the eloquent, conquering spirit. ii. by the time he reached lake marigold he had shaken off all those hovering fancies of the woods, which, after all, might only have been the whisperings of those friendly and far-seeing spirits who liked the lad as he journeyed through their lonely pleasure-grounds. john malbrouck greeted him with quiet cordiality, and mrs. malbrouck smiled upon him with a different smile from that with which she had speeded him a month before; there was in it a new light of knowledge, and gregory could not understand it. it struck him as singular that the lady should be dressed in finer garments than she wore when he last saw her; though certainly her purple became her. she wore it as if born to it; and with an air more sedately courteous than he had ever seen, save at one house in park lane. had this rustle of fine trappings been made for him? no; the woman had a mind above such snobbishness, he thought. he suffered for a moment the pang of a cynical idea; but the eyes of mrs. malbrouck were on him and he knew that he was as nothing before her. her eyes--how they were fixed upon him! only two women had looked so truthfully at him before: his dead mother and--margaret. and margaret--why, how strangely now at this instant came the thought that she was like his margaret! wonder sprang to his eyes. at that moment a door opened and a girl entered the room--a girl lissome, sweet-faced, well-bred of manner, who came slowly towards them. "my daughter, mr. thorne," the mother briefly remarked. there was no surprise in the girl's face, only an even reserve of pleasure, as she held out her hand and said: "mr. gregory thorne and i are old enemies." gregory thorne's nerve forsook him for an instant. he knew now the reason of his vague presentiments in the woods; he understood why, one night, when he had been more childlike than usual in his memory of the one woman who could make life joyous for him, the voice of a voyageur, not jacques's nor that of any one in camp, sang: "my dear love, she waits for me, none other my world is adorning; my true love i come to thee, my dear, the white star of the morning. eagles spread out your wings, behold where the red dawn is breaking! hark, 'tis my darling sings, the flowers, the song-birds awaking; see, where she comes to me, my love, ah, my dear love!" and here she was. he raised her hand to his lips, and said: "miss carley, you have your enemy at an advantage." "miss carley in park lane, margaret malbrouck here in my old home," she replied. there ran swiftly through the young man's brain the brief story that pretty pierre had told him. this, then, was the child who had been carried away, and who, years after, had made captive his heart in london town! well, one thing was clear, the girl's mother here seemed inclined to be kinder to him than was the guardian grandmother--if she was the grandmother--because they had their first talk undisturbed, it may be encouraged; amiable mothers do such deeds at times. "and now pray, mr. thorne," she continued, "may i ask how came you here in my father's house after having treated me so cavalierly in london?-not even sending a p.p.c. when you vanished from your worshippers in vanity fair." "as for my being here, it is simply a case of blind fate; as for my friends, the only one i wanted to be sorry for my going was behind earthworks which i could not scale in order to leave my card, or--or anything else of more importance; and being left as it were to the inclemency of a winter world, i fled from--" she interrupted him. "what! the conqueror, you, flying from your moscow?" he felt rather helpless under her gay raillery; but he said: "well, i didn't burn my kremlin behind me." "your kremlin?" "my ships, then: they--they are just the same," he earnestly pleaded. foolish youth, to attempt to take such a heart by surprise and storm! "that is very interesting," she said, "but hardly wise. to make fortunes and be happy in new countries, one should forget the old ones. meditation is the enemy of action." "there's one meditation could make me conquer the north pole, if i could but grasp it definitely." "grasp the north pole? that would be awkward for your friends and gratifying to your enemies, if one may believe science and history. but, perhaps, you are in earnest after all, poor fellow! for my father tells me you are going over the hills and far away to the moose-yards. how valiant you are, and how quickly you grasp the essentials of fortunemaking!" "miss malbrouck, i am in earnest, and i've always been in earnest in one thing at least. i came out here to make money, and i've made some, and shall make more; but just now the moose are as brands for the burning, and i have a gun sulky for want of exercise." "what an eloquent warrior-temper! and to whom are your deeds of valour to be dedicated? before whom do you intend to lay your trophies of the chase?" "before the most provoking but worshipful lady that i know." "who is the sylvan maid? what princess of the glade has now the homage of your impressionable heart, mr. thorne?" and gregory thorne, his native insolence standing him in no stead, said very humbly: "you are that sylvan maid, that princess--ah, is this fair to me, is it fair, i ask you?" "you really mean that about the trophies?" she replied. "and shall you return like the mighty khans, with captive tigers and lions, led by stalwart slaves, in your train, or shall they be captive moose or grizzlies?" "grizzlies are not possible here," he said, with cheerful seriousness, "but the moose is possible, and more, if you would be kinder--margaret." "your supper, see, is ready," she said. "i venture to hope your appetite has not suffered because of long absence from your friends." he could only dumbly answer by a protesting motion of the hand, and his smile was not remarkably buoyant. the next morning they started on their moose-hunt. gregory thorne was cast down when he crossed the threshold into the winter morning without hand-clasp or god-speed from margaret malbrouck; but mrs. malbrouck was there, and gregory, looking into her eyes, thought how good a thing it would be for him, if some such face looked benignly out on him every morning, before he ventured forth into the deceitful day. but what was the use of wishing! margaret evidently did not care. and though the air was clear and the sun shone brightly, he felt there was a cheerless wind blowing on him; a wind that chilled him; and he hummed to himself bitterly a song of the voyageurs: "o, o, the winter wind, the north wind, my snow-bird, where art thou gone? o, o, the wailing wind the night wind, the cold nest; i am alone. o, o, my snow-bird! "o, o, the waving sky, the white sky, my snow-bird thou fliest far; o, o, the eagle's cry, the wild cry, my lost love, my lonely star. o, o, my snow-bird!" he was about to start briskly forward to join malbrouck and his indians, who were already on their way, when he heard his name called, and, turning, he saw margaret in the doorway, her fingers held to the tips of her ears, as yet unused to the frost. he ran back to where she stood, and held out his hand. "i was afraid," he bluntly said, "that you wouldn't forsake your morning sleep to say good-bye to me." "it isn't always the custom, is it," she replied, "for ladies to send the very early hunter away with a tally-ho? but since you have the grace to be afraid of anything, i can excuse myself to myself for fleeing the pleasantest dreams to speed you on your warlike path." at this he brightened very much, but she, as if repenting she had given him so much pleasure, added: "i wanted to say good-bye to my father, you know; and--" she paused. "and?" he added. "and to tell him that you have fond relatives in the old land who would mourn your early taking off; and, therefore, to beg him, for their sakes, to keep you safe from any outrageous moose that mightn't know how the world needed you." "but there you are mistaken," he said; "i haven't anyone who would really care, worse luck! except the dowager; and she, perhaps, would be consoled to know that i had died in battle,--even with a moose,--and was clear of the possibility of hanging another lost reputation on the family tree, to say nothing of suspension from any other kind of tree. but, if it should be the other way; if i should see your father in the path of an outrageous moose--what then?" "my father is a hunter born," she responded; "he is a great man," she proudly added. "of course, of course," he replied. "good-bye. i'll take him your love.--good-bye!" and he turned away. "good-bye," she gaily replied; and yet, one looking closely would have seen that this stalwart fellow was pleasant to her eyes, and as she closed the door to his hand waving farewell to her from the pines, she said, reflecting on his words: "you'll take him my love, will you? but, master gregory, you carry a freight of which you do not know the measure; and, perhaps, you never shall, though you are very brave and honest, and not so impudent as you used to be,--and i'm not so sure that i like you so much better for that either, monsieur gregory." then she went and laid her cheek against her mother's, and said: "they've gone away for big game, mother dear; what shall be our quarry?" "my child," the mother replied, "the story of our lives since last you were with me is my only quarry. i want to know from your own lips all that you have been in that life which once was mine also, but far away from me now, even though you come from it, bringing its memories without its messages." "dear, do you think that life there was so sweet to me? it meant as little to your daughter as to you. she was always a child of the wild woods. what rustle of pretty gowns is pleasant as the silken shiver of the maple leaves in summer at this door? the happiest time in that life was when we got away to holwood or marchurst, with the balls and calls all over." mrs. malbrouck smoothed her daughter's hand gently and smiled approvingly. "but that old life of yours, mother; what was it? you said that you would tell me some day. tell me now. grandmother was fond of me--poor grandmother! but she would never tell me anything. how i longed to be back with you!.... sometimes you came to me in my sleep, and called to me to come with you; and then again, when i was gay in the sunshine, you came, and only smiled but never beckoned; though your eyes seemed to me very sad, and i wondered if mine would not also become sad through looking in them so--are they sad, mother?" and she laughed up brightly into her mother's face. "no, dear; they are like the stars. you ask me for my part in that life. i will tell you soon, but not now. be patient. do you not tire of this lonely life? are you truly not anxious to return to--" "'to the husks that the swine did eat?' no, no, no; for, see: i was born for a free, strong life; the prairie or the wild wood, or else to live in some far castle in welsh mountains, where i should never hear the voice of the social thou must!--oh, what a must! never to be quite free or natural. to be the slave of the code. i was born--i know not how! but so longing for the sky, and space, and endless woods. i think i never saw an animal but i loved it, nor ever lounged the mornings out at holwood but i wished it were a hut on the mountain side, and you and father with me." here she whispered, in a kind of awe: "and yet to think that holwood is now mine, and that i am mistress there, and that i must go back to it--if only you would go back with me.... ah, dear, isn't it your duty to go back with me?" she added, hesitatingly. audrey malbrouck drew her daughter hungrily to her bosom, and said: "yes, dear, i will go back, if it chances that you need me; but your father and i have lived the best days of our lives here, and we are content. but, my margaret, there is another to be thought of too, is there not? and in that case is my duty then so clear?" the girl's hand closed on her mother's, and she knew her heart had been truly read. iii. the hunters pursued their way, swinging grandly along on their snowshoes, as they made for the wild hawk woods. it would seem as if malbrouck was testing gregory's strength and stride, for the march that day was a long and hard one. he was equal to the test, and even big moccasin, the chief, grunted sound approval. but every day brought out new capacities for endurance and larger resources; so that malbrouck, who had known the clash of civilisation with barbarian battle, and deeds both dour and doughty, and who loved a man of might, regarded this youth with increasing favour. by simple processes he drew from gregory his aims and ambitions, and found the real courage and power behind the front of irony--the language of manhood and culture which was crusted by free and easy idioms. now and then they saw moose-tracks, but they were some days out before they came to a moose-yard--a spot hoof-beaten by the moose; his home, from which he strays, and to which he returns at times like a repentant prodigal. now the sport began. the dog-trains were put out of view, and big moccasin and another indian went off immediately to explore the country round about. a few hours, and word was brought that there was a small herd feeding not far away. together they crept stealthily within range of the cattle. gregory thorne's blood leaped as he saw the noble quarry, with their wide-spread horns, sniffing the air, in which they had detected something unusual. their leader, a colossal beast, stamped with his forefoot, and threw back his head with a snort. "the first shot belongs to you, mr. thorne," said malbrouck. "in the shoulder, you know. you have him in good line. i'll take the heifer." gregory showed all the coolness of an old hunter, though his lips twitched slightly with excitement. he took a short but steady aim, and fired. the beast plunged forward and then fell on his knees. the others broke away. malbrouck fired and killed a heifer, and then all ran in pursuit as the moose made for the woods. gregory, in the pride of his first slaughter, sprang away towards the wounded leader, which, sunk to the earth, was shaking its great horns to and fro. when at close range, he raised his gun to fire again, but the moose rose suddenly, and with a wild bellowing sound rushed at gregory, who knew full well that a straight stroke from those hoofs would end his moose-hunting days. he fired, but to no effect. he could not, like a toreador, jump aside, for those mighty horns would sweep too wide a space. he dropped on his knees swiftly, and as the great antlers almost touched him, and he could feel the roaring breath of the mad creature in his face, he slipped a cartridge in, and fired as he swung round; but at that instant a dark body bore him down. he was aware of grasping those sweeping horns, conscious of a blow which tore the flesh from his chest; and then his knife--how came it in his hand?--with the instinct of the true hunter. he plunged it once, twice, past a foaming mouth, into that firm body, and then both fell together; each having fought valiantly after his kind. gregory dragged himself from beneath the still heaving body, and stretched to his feet; but a blindness came, and the next knowledge he had was of brandy being poured slowly between his teeth, and of a voice coming through endless distances: "a fighter, a born fighter," it said. "the pluck of lucifer--good boy!" then the voice left those humming spaces of infinity, and said: "tilt him this way a little, big moccasin. there, press firmly, so. now the band steady--together--tighter--now the withes--a little higher up--cut them here." there was a slight pause, and then: "there, that's as good as an army surgeon could do it. he'll be as sound as a bell in two weeks. eh, well, how do you feel now? better? that's right! like to be on your feet, would you? wait. here, a sup of this. there you are. . . . well?" "well," said the young man, faintly, "he was a beauty." malbrouck looked at him a moment, thoughtfully, and then said: "yes, he was a beauty." "i want a dozen more like him, and then i shall be able to drop 'em as neat as, you do." "h'm! the order is large. i'm afraid we shall have to fill it at some other time;" and malbrouck smiled a little grimly. "what! only one moose to take back to the height of land, to--" something in the eye of the other stopped him. "to? yes, to?" and now the eye had a suggestion of humour. "to show i'm not a tenderfoot." "yes, to show you're not a tenderfoot. i fancy that will be hardly necessary. oh, you will be up, eh? well!" "well, i'm a tottering imbecile. what's the matter with my legs?--my prophetic soul, it hurts! oh, i see; that's where the old warrior's hoof caught me sideways. now, i'll tell you what, i'm going to have another moose to take back to marigold lake." "oh?" "yes. i'm going to take back a young, live moose." "a significant ambition. for what?--a sacrifice to the gods you have offended in your classic existence?" "both. a peace-offering, and a sacrifice to--a goddess." "young man," said the other, the light of a smile playing on his lips, "'prosperity be thy page!' big moccasin, what of this young live moose?" the indian shook his head doubtfully. "but i tell you i shall have that live moose, if i have to stay here to see it grow." and malbrouck liked his pluck, and wished him good luck. and the good luck came. they travelled back slowly to the height of land, making a circuit. for a week they saw no more moose; but meanwhile gregory's hurt quickly healed. they had now left only eight days in which to get back to dog ear river and marigold lake. if the young moose was to come it must come soon. it came soon. they chanced upon a moose-yard, and while the indians were beating the woods, malbrouck and gregory watched. soon a cow and a young moose came swinging down to the embankment. malbrouck whispered: "now if you must have your live moose, here's a lasso. i'll bring down the cow. the young one's horns are not large. remember, no pulling. i'll do that. keep your broken chest and bad arm safe. now!" down came the cow with a plunge into the yard-dead. the lasso, too, was over the horns of the calf, and in an instant malbrouck was swinging away with it over the snow. it was making for the trees--exactly what malbrouck desired. he deftly threw the rope round a sapling, but not too taut, lest the moose's horns should be injured. the plucky animal now turned on him. he sprang behind a tree, and at that instant he heard the thud of hoofs behind him. he turned to see a huge bull-moose bounding towards him. he was between two fires, and quite unarmed. those hoofs had murder in them. but at the instant a rifle shot rang out, and he only caught the forward rush of the antlers as the beast fell. the young moose now had ceased its struggles, and came forward to the dead bull with that hollow sound of mourning peculiar to its kind. though it afterwards struggled once or twice to be free, it became docile and was easily taught, when its anger and fear were over. and gregory thorne had his live moose. he had also, by that splendid shot, achieved with one arm, saved malbrouck from peril, perhaps from death. they drew up before the house at marigold lake on the afternoon of the day before christmas, a triumphal procession. the moose was driven, a peaceful captive with a wreath of cedar leaves around its neck--the humourous conception of gregory thorne. malbrouck had announced their coming by a blast from his horn, and margaret was standing in the doorway wrapped in furs, which may have come originally from hudson's bay, but which had been deftly re-manufactured in regent street. astonishment, pleasure, beamed in her eyes. she clapped her hands gaily, and cried: "welcome, welcome, merry-men all!" she kissed her father; she called to her mother to come and see; then she said to gregory, with arch raillery, as she held out her hand: "oh, companion of hunters, comest thou like jacques in arden from dropping the trustful tear upon the prey of others, or bringest thou quarry of thine own? art thou a warrior sated with spoil, master of the sports, spectator of the fight, prince, or pistol? answer, what art thou?" and he, with a touch of his old insolence, though with something of irony too, for he had hoped for a different fashion of greeting, said: "all, lady, all! the olympian all! the player of many parts. i am touchstone, jacques, and yet orlando too." "and yet orlando too, my daughter," said malbrouck, gravely. "he saved your father from the hoofs of a moose bent on sacrifice. had your father his eye, his nerve, his power to shoot with one arm a bull moose at long range, so!--he would not refuse to be called a great hunter, but wear the title gladly." margaret malbrouck's face became anxious instantly. "he saved you from danger--from injury, father?" she slowly said, and looked earnestly at gregory; "but why to shoot with one arm only?" "because in a fight of his own with a moose--a hand-to-hand fight--he had a bad moment with the hoofs of the beast." and this young man, who had a reputation for insolence, blushed, so that the paleness which the girl now noticed in his face was banished; and to turn the subject he interposed: "here is the live moose that i said i should bring. now say that he's a beauty, please. your father and i--" but malbrouck interrupted: "he lassoed it with his one arm, margaret. he was determined to do it himself, because, being a superstitious gentleman, as well as a hunter, he had some foolish notion that this capture would propitiate a goddess whom he imagined required offerings of the kind." "it is the privilege of the gods to be merciful," she said. "this peaceoffering should propitiate the angriest, cruellest goddess in the universe; and for one who was neither angry nor really cruel--well, she should be satisfied.... altogether satisfied," she added, as she put her cheek against the warm fur of the captive's neck, and let it feel her hand with its lips. there was silence for a minute, and then with his old gay spirit all returned, and as if to give an air not too serious to the situation, gregory, remembering his euripides, said: ". . . . . . . .let the steer bleed, and the rich altars, as they pay their vows, breathe incense to the gods: for me, i rise to better life, and grateful own the blessing." "a pagan thought for a christmas eve," she said to him, with her fingers feeling for the folds of silken flesh in the throat of the moose; "but wounded men must be humoured. and, mother dear, here are our argonauts returned; and--and now i think i will go." with a quick kiss on her father's cheek--not so quick but he caught the tear that ran through her happy smile--she vanished into the house. that night there was gladness in this home. mirth sprang to the lips of the men like foam on a beaker of wine, so that the evening ran towards midnight swiftly. all the tale of the hunt was given by malbrouck to joyful ears; for the mother lived again her youth in the sunrise of this romance which was being sped before her eyes; and the father, knowing that in this world there is nothing so good as courage, nothing so base as the shifting eye, looked on the young man, and was satisfied, and told his story well;--told it as a brave man would tell it, bluntly as to deeds done, warmly as to the pleasures of good sport, directly as to all. in the eye of the young man there had come the glance of larger life, of a new-developed manhood. when he felt that dun body crashing on him, and his life closing with its strength, and ran the good knife home, there flashed through his mind how much life meant to the dying, how much it ought to mean to the living; and then this girl, this margaret, swam before his eyes--and he had been graver since. he knew, as truly as if she had told him, that she could never mate with any man who was a loiterer on god's highway, who could live life without some sincerity in his aims. it all came to him again in this room, so austere in its appointments, yet so gracious, so full of the spirit of humanity without a note of ennui, or the rust of careless deeds. as this thought grew he looked at the face of the girl, then at the faces of the father and mother, and the memory of his boast came back--that he would win the stake he laid, to know the story of john and audrey malbrouck before this coming christmas morning. with a faint smile at his own past insolent self, he glanced at the clock. it was eleven. "i have lost my bet," he unconsciously said aloud. he was roused by john malbrouck remarking: "yes, you have lost your bet? well, what was it?" the youth, the childlike quality in him," flushed his face deeply, and then, with a sudden burst of frankness, he said: "i did not know that i had spoken. as for the bet, i deserve to be thrashed for ever having made it; but, duffer as i am, i want you to know that i'm something worse than duffer. the first time i met you i made a bet that i should know your history before christmas day. i haven't a word to say for myself. i'm contemptible. i beg your pardon; for your history is none of my business. i was really interested; that's all; but your lives, i believe it, as if it was in the bible, have been great-yes, that's the word! and i'm a better chap for having known you, though, perhaps, i've known you all along, because, you see, i've--i've been friends with your daughter--and-well, really i haven't anything else to say, except that i hope you'll forgive me, and let me know you always." malbrouck regarded him for a moment with a grave smile, and then looked toward his wife. both turned their glances quickly upon margaret, whose eyes were on the fire. the look upon her face was very gentle; something new and beautiful had come to reign there. a moment, and malbrouck spoke: "you did what was youthful and curious, but not wrong; and you shall not lose your hazard. i--" "no, do not tell me," gregory interrupted; "only let me be pardoned." "as i said, lad, you shall not lose your hazard. i will tell you the brief tale of two lives." "but, i beg of you! for the instant i forgot. i have more to confess." and gregory told them in substance what pretty pierre had disclosed to him in the rocky mountains. when he had finished, malbrouck said: "my tale then is briefer still: i was a common soldier, english and humble by my mother, french and noble through my father--noble, but poor. in burmah, at an outbreak among the natives, i rescued my colonel from immediate and horrible death, though he died in my arms from the injuries he received. his daughter too, it was my fortune, through god's providence, to save from great danger. she became my wife. you remember that song you sang the day we first met you? "it brought her father back to mind painfully. when we came to england her people--her mother--would not receive me. for myself i did not care; for my wife, that was another matter. she loved me and preferred to go with me anywhere; to a new country, preferably. we came to canada. "we were forgotten in england. time moves so fast, even if the records in red-books stand. our daughter went to her grandmother to be brought up and educated in england--though it was a sore trial to us both--that she might fill nobly that place in life for which she is destined. with all she learned she did not forget us. we were happy save in her absence. we are happy now; not because she is mistress of holwood and marchurst--for her grandmother and another is dead--but because such as she is our daughter, and--" he said no more. margaret was beside him, and her fingers were on his lips. gregory came to his feet suddenly, and with a troubled face. "mistress of holwood and marchurst!" he said; and his mind ran over his own great deficiencies, and the list of eligible and anxious suitors that park lane could muster. he had never thought of her in the light of a great heiress. but he looked down at her as she knelt at her father's knee, her eyes upturned to his, and the tide of his fear retreated; for he saw in them the same look she had given him when she leaned her cheek against the moose's neck that afternoon. when the clock struck twelve upon a moment's pleasant silence, john malbrouck said to gregory thorne: "yes, you have won your christmas hazard, my boy." but a softer voice than his whispered: "are you--content--gregory?" the spirits of christmas-tide, whose paths lie north as well as south, smiled as they wrote his answer on their tablets; for they knew, as the man said, that he would always be content, and--which is more in the sight of angels--that the woman would be content also. etext editor's bookmarks: awkward for your friends and gratifying to your enemies carrying with him the warm atmosphere of a good woman's love freedom is the first essential of the artistic mind i was born insolent knowing that his face would never be turned from me likenesses between the perfectly human and the perfectly animal longed to touch, oftener than they did, the hands of children meditation is the enemy of action my excuses were making bad infernally worse nothing so good as courage, nothing so base as the shifting eye she wasn't young, but she seemed so the barracks of the free the gods made last to humble the pride of men--there was rum the soul of goodness in things evil time is the test, and time will have its way with me where i should never hear the voice of the social thou must this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] a romany of the snows being a continuation of the personal histories of "pierre and his people" and the last existing records of pretty pierre by gilbert parker volume 1. contents volume 1. across the jumping sandhills a lovely bully the filibuster the gift of the simple king volume 2. malachi the lake of the great slave the red patrol the going of the white swan at bamber's boom volume 3. the bridge house the epaulettes the house with the broken shutter the finding of fingall three commandments in the vulgar tongue volume 4. little babiche at point o' bugles the spoil of the puma the trail of the sun dogs the pilot of belle amour volume 5. the cruise of the "ninety-nine" a romany of the snows the plunderer to sir william c. van horne. my dear sir william, to the public it will seem fitting that these new tales of "pierre and his people" should be inscribed to one whose notable career is inseparably associated with the life and development of the far north. but there is a deeper and more personal significance in this dedication, for some of the stories were begotten in late gossip by your fireside; and furthermore, my little book is given a kind of distinction, in having on its fore-page the name of one well known as a connoisseur of art and a lover of literature. believe me, dear sir william, sincerely yours, gilbert parker. 7 park place. st. james's. london. s. w. introduction it can hardly be said that there were two series of pierre stories. there never was but one series, in fact. pierre moved through all the thirty-nine stories of pierre and his people and a romany of the snows without any thought on my part of putting him out of existence in one series and bringing him to life again in another. the publication of the stories was continuous, and at the time that pierre and his people appeared several of those which came between the covers of a romany of the snows were passing through the pages of magazines in england and america. all of the thirty-nine stories might have appeared in one volume under the title of pierre and his people, but they were published in two volumes with different titles in england, and in three volumes in america, simply because there was enough material for the two and the three volumes. in america the adventurer of the north was broken up into two volumes at the urgent request of my then publishers, messrs. stone & kimball, who had the gift of producing beautiful books, but perhaps had not the same gift of business. these two american volumes succeeding pierre were published under the title of an adventurer of the north and a romany of the snows respectively. now, the latter title, a romany of the snows, was that which i originally chose for the volume published in england as an adventurer of the north. i was persuaded to reject the title, a romany of the snows, by my english publisher, and i have never forgiven myself since for being so weak. if a publisher had the infallible instinct for these things he would not be a publisher-he would be an author; and though an author may make mistakes like everybody else, the average of his hits will be far higher than the average of his misses in such things. the title, an adventurer of the north, is to my mind cumbrous and rough, and difficult in the mouth. compare it with some of the stories within the volume itself: for instance, the going of the white swan, a lovely bully, at bamber's boom, at point o' bugles, the pilot of belle amour, the spoil of the puma, a romany of the snows, and the finding of fingall. there it was, however; i made the mistake and it sticks; but the book now will be published in this subscription edition under the title first chosen by me, a romany of the snows. it really does express what pierre was. perhaps some of the stories in a romany of the snows have not the sentimental simplicity of some of the earlier stories in pierre and his people, which take hold where a deeper and better work might not seize the general public; but, reading these later stories after twenty years, i feel that i was moving on steadily to a larger, firmer command of my material, and was getting at closer grips with intimate human things. there is some proof of what i say in the fact that one of the stories in a romany of the snows, called the going of the white swan, appropriately enough published originally in scribner's magazine, has had an extraordinary popularity. it has been included in the programmes of reciters from the murrumbidgee to the vaal, from john o'groat's to land's end, and is now being published as a separate volume in england and america. it has been dramatised several times, and is more alive to-day than it was when it was published nearly twenty years ago. almost the same may be said of the three commandments in the vulgar tongue. it has been said that, apart from the colour, form, and setting, the incidents of these pierre stories might have occurred anywhere. that is true beyond a doubt, and it exactly represents my attitude of mind. every human passion, every incident springing out of a human passion to-day, had its counterpart in the time of amenhotep. the only difference is in the setting, is in the language or dialect which is the vehicle of expression, and in race and character, which are the media of human idiosyncrasy. there is nothing new in anything that one may write, except the outer and visible variation of race, character, and country, which reincarnates the everlasting human ego and its scena. the atmosphere of a story or novel is what temperament is to a man. atmosphere cannot be created; it is not a matter of skill; it is a matter of personality, of the power of visualisation, of feeling for the thing which the mind sees. it has been said that my books possess atmosphere. this has often been said when criticism has been more or less acute upon other things; but i think that in all my experience there has never been a critic who has not credited my books with that quality; and i should say that pierre and his people and a romany of the snows have an atmosphere in which the beings who make the stories live seem natural to their environment. it is this quality which gives vitality to the characters themselves. had i not been able to create atmosphere which would have given naturalness to pierre and his friends, some of the characters, and many of the incidents, would have seemed monstrosities --melodramatic episodes merely. the truth is, that while the episode, which is the first essential of a short story, was always in the very forefront of my imagination, the character or characters in the episode meant infinitely more to me. to my mind the episode was always the consequence of character. that almost seems a paradox; but apart from the phenomena of nature, as possible incidents in a book, the episodes which make what are called "human situations" are, in most instances, the sequence of character and are incidental to the law of the character set in motion. as i realise it now, subconsciously, my mind and imagination were controlled by this point of view in the days of the writing of pierre and his people. in the life and adventures of pierre and his people i came, as i think, to a certain command of my material, without losing real sympathy with the simple nature of things. dexterity has its dangers, and one of its dangers is artificiality. it is very difficult to be skilful and to ring true. if i have not wholly succeeded in a romany of the snows, i think i have not wholly failed, as the continued appeal of a few of the stories would seem to show. across the jumping sandhills "here now, trader; aisy, aisy! quicksands i've seen along the sayshore, and up to me half-ways i've been in wan, wid a double-and-twist in the rope to pull me out; but a suckin' sand in the open plain--aw, trader, aw! the like o' that niver a bit saw i." so said macavoy the giant, when the thing was talked of in his presence. "well, i tell you it's true, and they're not three miles from fort o'glory. the company's--[hudson's bay company]--men don't talk about it --what's the use! travellers are few that way, and you can't get the indians within miles of them. pretty pierre knows all about them--better than anyone else almost. he'll stand by me in it--eh, pierre?" pierre, the half-breed gambler and adventurer, took no notice, and was silent for a time, intent on his cigarette; and in the pause mowley the trapper said: "pierre's gone back on you, trader. p'r'aps ye haven't paid him for the last lie. i go one better, you stand by me--my treat --that's the game!" "aw, the like o' that," added macavoy reproachfully. "aw, yer tongue to the roof o' yer mouth, mowley. liars all men may be, but that's wid wimmin or landlords. but, pierre, aff another man's bat like that--aw, mowley, fill your mouth wid the bowl o' yer pipe." pierre now looked up at the three men, rolling another cigarette as he did so; but he seemed to be thinking of a distant matter. meeting the three pairs of eyes fixed on him, his own held them for a moment musingly; then he lit his cigarette, and, half reclining on the bench where he sat, he began to speak, talking into the fire as it were. "i was at guidon hill, at the company's post there. it was the fall of the year, when you feel that there is nothing so good as life, and the air drinks like wine. you think that sounds like a woman or a priest? mais, no. the seasons are strange. in the spring i am lazy and sad; in the fall i am gay, i am for the big things to do. this matter was in the fall. i felt that i must move. yet, what to do? there was the thing. cards, of course. but that's only for times, not for all seasons. so i was like a wild dog on a chain. i had a good horse--tophet, black as a coal, all raw bones and joint, and a reach like a moose. his legs worked like piston-rods. but, as i said, i did not know where to go or what to do. so we used to sit at the post loafing: in the daytime watching the empty plains all panting for travellers, like a young bride waiting her husband for the first time." macavoy regarded pierre with delight. he had an unctuous spirit, and his heart was soft for women--so soft that he never had had one on his conscience, though he had brushed gay smiles off the lips of many. but that was an amiable weakness in a strong man. "aw, pierre," he said coaxingly, "kape it down; aisy, aisy. me heart's goin' like a triphammer at thought av it; aw yis, aw yis, pierre." "well, it was like that to me--all sun and a sweet sting in the air. at night to sit and tell tales and such things; and perhaps a little brown brandy, a look at the stars, a half-hour with the cattle--the same old game. of course, there was the wife of hilton the factor--fine, always fine to see, but deaf and dumb. we were good friends, ida and me. i had a hand in her wedding. holy, i knew her when she was a little girl. we could talk together by signs. she was a good woman; she had never guessed at evil. she was quick, too, like a flash, to read and understand without words. a face was a book to her. "eh bien. one afternoon we were all standing outside the post, when we saw someone ride over the long divide. it was good for the eyes. i cannot tell quite how, but horse and rider were so sharp and clear-cut against the sky, that they looked very large and peculiar--there was something in the air to magnify. they stopped for a minute on the top of the divide, and it seemed like a messenger out of the strange country at the farthest north--the place of legends. but, of course, it was only a traveller like ourselves, for in a half-hour she was with us. "yes, it was a girl dressed as a man. she did not try to hide it; she dressed so for ease. she would make a man's heart leap in his mouth-if he was like macavoy, or the pious mowley there." pierre's last three words had a touch of irony, for he knew that the trapper had a precious tongue for scripture when a missionary passed that way, and a bad name with women to give it point. mowley smiled sourly; but macavoy laughed outright, and smacked his lips on his pipe-stem luxuriously. "aw now, pierre--all me little failin's--aw!" he protested. pierre swung round on the bench, leaning upon the other elbow, and, cherishing his cigarette, presently continued: "she had come far and was tired to death, so stiff that she could hardly get from her horse; and the horse too was ready to drop. handsome enough she looked, for all that, in man's clothes and a peaked cap, with a pistol in her belt. she wasn't big built--just a feathery kind of sapling--but she was set fair on her legs like a man, and a hand that was as good as i have seen, so strong, and like silk and iron with a horse. well, what was the trouble?--for i saw there was trouble. her eyes had a hunted look, and her nose breathed like a deer's in the chase. all at once, when she saw hilton's wife, a cry came from her and she reached out her hands. what would women of that sort do? they were both of a kind. they got into each other's arms. after that there was nothing for us men but to wait. all women are the same, and hilton's wife was like the rest. she must get the secret first; then the men should know. we had to wait an hour. then hilton's wife beckoned to us. we went inside. the girl was asleep. there was something in the touch of hilton's wife like sleep itself--like music. it was her voice--that touch. she could not speak with her tongue, but her hands and face were words and music. bien, there was the girl asleep, all clear of dust and stain; and that fine hand it lay loose on her breast, so quiet, so quiet. enfin, the real story--for how she slept there does not matter--but it was good to see when we knew the story." the trapper was laughing silently to himself to hear pierre in this romantic mood. a woman's hand--it was the game for a boy, not an adventurer; for the trapper's only creed was that women, like deer, were spoils for the hunter. pierre's keen eye noted this, but he was above petty anger. he merely said: "if a man have an eye to see behind the face, he understands the foolish laugh of a man, or the hand of a good woman, and that is much. hilton's wife told us all. she had rode two hundred miles from the south-west, and was making for fort micah, sixty miles farther north. for what? she had loved a man against the will of her people. there had been a feud, and garrison--that was the lover's name--was the last on his own side. there was trouble at a company's post, and garrison shot a half-breed. men say he was right to shoot him, for a woman's name must be safe up here. besides, the half-breed drew first. well, garrison was tried, and must go to jail for a year. at the end of that time he would be free. the girl janie knew the day. word had come to her. she made everything ready. she knew her brothers were watching--her three brothers and two other men who had tried to get her love. she knew also that they five would carry on the feud against the one man. so one night she took the best horse on the ranch and started away towards fort micah. alors, you know how she got to guidon hill after two days' hard riding--enough to kill a man, and over fifty yet to do. she was sure her brothers were on her track. but if she could get to fort micah, and be married to garrison before they came; she wanted no more. "there were only two horses of use at hilton's post then; all the rest were away, or not fit for hard travel. there was my tophet, and a lean chestnut, with a long propelling gait, and not an ounce of loose skin on him. there was but one way: the girl must get there. allons, what is the good? what is life without these things? the girl loves the man: she must have him in spite of all. there was only hilton and his wife and me at the post, and hilton was lame from a fall, and one arm in a sling. if the brothers followed, well, hilton could not interfere-he was a company's man; but for myself, as i said, i was hungry for adventure, i had an ache in my blood for something. i was tingling to the toes, my heart was thumping in my throat. all the cords of my legs were straightening as if i was in the saddle. "she slept for three hours. i got the two horses saddled. who could tell but she might need help? i had nothing to do; i knew the shortest way to fort micah, every foot--and then it is good to be ready for all things. i told hilton's wife what i had done. she was glad. she made a gesture at me as to a brother, and then began to put things in a bag for us to carry. she had settled all how it was to be. she had told the girl. you see, a man may be--what is it they call me?--a plunderer, and yet a woman will trust him, comme ca!" "aw yis, aw yis, pierre; but she knew yer hand and yer tongue niver wint agin a woman, pierre. naw, niver a wan. aw swate, swate, she was, wid a heart--a heart, hilton's wife, aw yis!" pierre waved macavoy into silence. "the girl waked after three hours with a start. her hand caught at her heart. 'oh,' she said, still staring at us, 'i thought that they had come!' a little after she and hilton's wife went to another room. all at once there was a sound of horses outside, and then a knock at the door, and four men come in. they were the girl's hunters. "it was hard to tell what to do all in a minute; but i saw at once the best thing was to act for all, and to get all the men inside the house. so i whispered to hilton, and then pretended that i was a great man in the company. i ordered hilton to have the horses cared for, and, not giving the men time to speak, i fetched out the old brown brandy, wondering all the time what could be done. there was no sound from the other room, though i thought i heard a door open once. hilton played the game well, and showed nothing when i ordered him about, and agreed word for word with me when i said no girl had come, laughing when they told why they were after her. more than one of them did not believe at first; but, pshaw, what have i been doing all my life to let such fellows doubt me? so the end of it was that i got them all inside the house. there was one bad thing--their horses were all fresh, as hilton whispered to me. they had only rode them a few miles--they had stole or bought them at the first ranch to the west of the post. i could not make up my mind what to do. but it was clear i must keep them quiet till something shaped. "they were all drinking brandy when hilton's wife come into the room. her face was, mon dieu! so innocent, so childlike. she stared at the men; and then i told them she was deaf and dumb, and i told her why they had come. voila, it was beautiful--like nothing you ever saw. she shook her head so innocent, and then told them like a child that they were wicked to chase a girl. i could have kissed her feet. thunder, how she fooled them! she said, would they not search the house? she said all through me, on her fingers and by signs. and i told them at once. but she told me something else--that the girl had slipped out as the last man came in, had mounted the chestnut, and would wait for me by the iron spring, a quarter of a mile away. there was the danger that some one of the men knew the finger-talk, so she told me this in signs mixed up with other sentences. "good! there was now but one thing--for me to get away. so i said, laughing, to one of the men. 'come, and we will look after the horses, and the others can search the place with hilton.' so we went out to where the horses were tied to the railing, and led them away to the corral. "of course you will understand how i did it. i clapped a hand on his mouth, put a pistol at his head, and gagged and tied him. then i got my tophet, and away i went to the spring. the girl was waiting. there were few words. i gripped her hand, gave her another pistol, and then we got away on a fine moonlit trail. we had not gone a mile when i heard a faint yell far behind. my game had been found out. there was nothing to do but to ride for it now, and maybe to fight. but fighting was not good; for i might be killed, and then the girl would be caught just the same. we rode on--such a ride, the horses neck and neck, their hoofs pounding the prairie like drills, rawbone to rawbone, a hell-to-split gait. i knew they were after us, though i saw them but once on the crest of a divide about three miles behind. hour after hour like that, with ten minutes' rest now and then at a spring or to stretch our legs. we hardly spoke to each other; but, nom de dieu! my heart was warm to this girl who had rode a hundred and fifty miles in twenty-four hours. just before dawn, when i was beginning to think that we should easy win the race if the girl could but hold out, if it did not kill her, the chestnut struck a leg into the crack of the prairie, and horse and girl spilt on the ground together. she could hardly move, she was so weak, and her face was like death. i put a pistol to the chestnut's head, and ended it. the girl stooped and kissed the poor beast's neck, but spoke nothing. as i helped her on my tophet i put my lips to the sleeve of her dress. mother of heaven! what could a man do--she was so dam' brave. "dawn was just breaking oozy and grey at the swell of the prairie over the jumping sandhills. they lay quiet and shining in the green-brown plain; but i knew that there was a churn beneath which could set those swells of sand in motion, and make glory-to-god of an army. who can tell what it is? a flood under the surface, a tidal river-what? no man knows. but they are sea monsters on the land. every morning at sunrise they begin to eddy and roll--and who ever saw a stranger sight? bien, i looked back. there were those four pirates coming on, about three miles away. what was there to do? the girl and myself on my blown horse were too much. then a great idea come to me. i must reach and cross the jumping sandhills before sunrise. it was one deadly chance. "when we got to the edge of the sand they were almost a mile behind. i was all sick to my teeth as my poor tophet stepped into the silt. sacre, how i watched the dawn! slow, slow, we dragged over that velvet powder. as we reached the farther side i could feel it was beginning to move. the sun was showing like the lid of an eye along the plain. i looked back. all four horsemen were in the sand, plunging on towards us. by the time we touched the brown-green prairie on the farther side the sand was rolling behind us. the girl had not looked back. she seemed too dazed. i jumped from the horse, and told her that she must push on alone to the fort, that tophet could not carry both, that i should be in no danger. she looked at me so deep--ah, i cannot tell how! then stooped and kissed me between the eyes--i have never forgot. i struck tophet, and she was gone to her happiness; for before 'lights out!' she reached the fort and her lover's arms. "but i stood looking back on the jumping sandhills. so, was there ever a sight like that--those hills gone like a smelting-floor, the sunrise spotting it with rose and yellow, and three horses and their riders fighting what cannot be fought?--what could i do? they would have got the girl and spoiled her life, if i had not led them across, and they would have killed me if they could. only one cried out, and then but once, in a long shriek. but after, all three were quiet as they fought, until they were gone where no man could see, where none cries out so we can hear. the last thing i saw was a hand stretching up out of the sands." there was a long pause, painful to bear. the trader sat with eyes fixed humbly as a dog's on pierre. at last macavoy said: "she kissed ye, pierre, aw yis, she did that! jist betune the eyes. do yees iver see her now, pierre?" but pierre, looking at him, made no answer. a lovely bully he was seven feet and fat. he came to fort o'angel at hudson's bay, an immense slip of a lad, very much in the way, fond of horses, a wonderful hand at wrestling, pretending a horrible temper, threatening tragedies for all who differed from him, making the fort quake with his rich roar, and playing the game of bully with a fine simplicity. in winter he fattened, in summer he sweated, at all times he ate eloquently. it was a picture to see him with the undercut of a haunch of deer or buffalo, or with a whole prairie-fowl on his plate, his eyes measuring it shrewdly, his coat and waistcoat open, and a clear space about him--for he needed room to stretch his mighty limbs, and his necessity was recognised by all. occasionally he pretended to great ferocity, but scowl he ever so much, a laugh kept idling in his irregular bushy beard, which lifted about his face in the wind like a mane, or made a kind of underbrush through which his blunt fingers ran at hide-and-seek. he was irish, and his name was macavoy. in later days, when fort o'angel was invaded by settlers, he had his time of greatest importance. he had been useful to the chief trader at the fort in the early days, and having the run of the fort and the reach of his knife, was little likely to discontinue his adherence. but he ate and drank with all the dwellers at the post, and abused all impartially. "malcolm," said he to the trader, "malcolm, me glutton o' the h.b.c., that wants the far north for your footstool--malcolm, you villain, it's me grief that i know you, and me thumb to me nose in token. "wiley and hatchett, the principal settlers, he abused right and left, and said, "wasn't there land in the east and west, that you steal the country god made for honest men--you robbers o' the wide world! me tooth on the book, and i tell you what, it's only me charity that kapes me from spoilin' ye. for a wink of me eye, an' away you'd go, leaving your tails behind you--and pass that shoulder of bear, you pirates, till i come to it sideways, like a hog to war." he was even less sympathetic with bareback the chief and his braves. "sons o' anak y'are; here today and away to-morrow, like the clods of the valley--and that's your portion, bareback. it's the word o' the pentytook--in pieces you go, like a potter's vessel. don't shrug your shoulders at me, bareback, you pig, or you'll think that ballzeboob's loose on the mat. but take a sup o' this whisky, while you swear wid your hand on your chest, 'amin' to the words o' tim macavoy." beside macavoy, pierre, the notorious, was a child in height. up to the time of the half-breed's coming the irishman had been the most outstanding man at fort o'angel, and was sure of a good-natured homage, acknowledged by him with a jovial tyranny. pierre put a flea in his ear. he was pensively indifferent to him even in his most royal moments. he guessed the way to bring down the gusto and pride of this goliath, but, for a purpose, he took his own time, nodding indolently to macavoy when he met him, but avoiding talk with him. among the indian maidens macavoy was like a king or khan; for they count much on bulk and beauty, and he answered to their standards--especially to wonta's. it was a sight to see him of a summer day, sitting in the shade of a pine, his shirt open, showing his firm brawny chest, his arms bare, his face shining with perspiration, his big voice gurgling in his beard, his eyes rolling amiably upon the maidens as they passed or gathered near demurely, while he declaimed of mighty deeds in patois or chinook to the braves. pierre's humour was of the quietest, most subterranean kind. he knew that macavoy had not an evil hair in his head; that vanity was his greatest weakness, and that through him there never would have been more half-breed population. there was a tradition that he had a wife somewhere--based upon wild words he had once said when under the influence of bad liquor; but he had roared his accuser the lie when the thing was imputed to him. at fort ste. anne pierre had known an old woman, by name of kitty whelan, whose character was all tatters. she had told him that many years agone she had had a broth of a lad for a husband; but because of a sharp word or two across the fire, and the toss of a handful of furniture, he had left her, and she had seen no more of him. "tall, like a chimney he was," said she, "and a chest like a wall, so broad, and a voice like a huntsman's horn, though only a b'y, an' no hair an his face; an' little i know whether he is dead or alive; but dead belike, for he's sure to come rap agin' somethin' that'd kill him; for he, the darlin', was that aisy and gentle, he wouldn't pull his fightin' iron till he had death in his ribs." pierre had drawn from her that the name of this man whom she had cajoled into a marriage (being herself twenty years older), and driven to deserting her afterwards, was tim macavoy. she had married mr. whelan on the assumption that macavoy was dead. but mr. whelan had not the nerve to desert her, and so he departed this life, very loudly lamented by mrs. whelan, who had changed her name with no right to do so. with his going her mind dwelt greatly upon the virtues of her mighty vanished tim: and ill would it be for tim if she found him. pierre had travelled to fort o'angel almost wholly because he had tim macavoy in his mind: in it mrs. whelan had only an incidental part; his plans journeyed beyond her and her lost consort. he was determined on an expedition to capture fort comfort, which had been abandoned by the great company, and was now held by a great band of the shunup indians. pierre had a taste for conquest for its own sake, though he had no personal ambition. the love of adventure was deep in him; he adored sport for its own sake; he had had a long range of experiences--some discreditable--and now he had determined on a new field for his talent. he would establish a kingdom, and resign it. in that case he must have a man to take his place. he chose macavoy. first he must humble the giant to the earth, then make him into a great man again, with a new kind of courage. the undoing of macavoy seemed a civic virtue. he had a long talk with wonta, the indian maiden most admired by macavoy. many a time the irishman had cast an ogling, rolling eye on her, and had talked his loudest within her ear-shot, telling of splendid things he had done: making himself like another samson as to the destruction of men, and a hercules as to the slaying of cattle. wonta had a sense of humour also, and when pierre told her what was required of her, she laughed with a quick little gurgle, and showed as handsome a set of teeth as the half-breed's; which said much for her. she promised to do as he wished. so it chanced when macavoy was at his favourite seat beneath the pine, talking to a gaping audience, wonta and a number of indian girls passed by. pierre was leaning against a door smoking, not far away. macavoy's voice became louder. "'stand them up wan by wan,' says i, 'and give me a leg loose, and a fist free; and at that--'" "at that there was thunder and fire in the sky, and because the great macavoy blew his breath over them they withered like the leaves," cried wonta, laughing; but her laugh had an edge. macavoy stopped short, open-mouthed, breathing hard in his great beard. he was astonished at wonta's raillery; the more so when she presently snapped her fingers, and the other maidens, laughing, did the same. some of the half-breeds snapped their fingers also in sympathy, and shrugged their shoulders. wonta came up to him softly, patted him on the head, and said: "like macavoy there is nobody. he is a great brave. he is not afraid of a coyote, he has killed prairie-hens in numbers as pebbles by the lakes. he has a breast like a fat ox,"--here she touched the skin of his broad chest,--"and he will die if you do not fight him." then she drew back, as though in humble dread, and glided away with the other maidens, macavoy staring after her, with a blustering kind of shame in his face. the half-breeds laughed, and, one by one, they got up, and walked away also. macavoy looked round: there was no one near save pierre, whose eye rested on him lazily. macavoy got to his feet, muttering. this was the first time in his experience at fort o'angel that he had been bluffed--and by a girl; one for whom he had a very soft place in his big heart. pierre came slowly over to him. "i'd have it out with her," said he. "she called you a bully and a brag." "out with her?" cried macavoy. "how can ye have it out wid a woman?" "fight her," said pierre pensively. "fight her? fight her? holy smoke! how can you fight a woman?" "why, what--do you--fight?" asked pierre innocently. macavoy grinned in a wild kind of fashion. "faith, then, y'are a fool. bring on the divil an' all his angels, say i, and i'll fight thim where i stand." pierre ran his fingers down macavoy's arm, and said "there's time enough for that. i'd begin with the five." "what five, then?" "her half-breed lovers: big eye, one toe, jo-john, saucy boy, and limber legs." "her lovers? her lovers, is it? is there truth on y'r tongue?" "go to her father's tent at sunset, and you'll find one or all of them there." "oh, is that it?" said the irishman, opening and shutting his fists. "then i'll carve their hearts out, an' ate thim wan by wan this night." "come down to wiley's," said pierre; "there's better company there than here." pierre had arranged many things, and had secured partners in his little scheme for humbling the braggart. he so worked on the other's good nature that by the time they reached the settler's place, macavoy was stretching himself with a big pride. seated at wiley's table, with hatchett and others near, and drink going about, someone drew the giant on to talk, and so deftly and with such apparent innocence did pierre, by a word here and a nod there, encourage him, that presently he roared at wiley and hatchett: "ye shameless buccaneers that push your way into the tracks of honest men, where the company's been three hundred years by the will o' god-if it wasn't for me, ye jack sheppards--" wiley and hatchett both got to their feet with pretended rage, saying he'd insulted them both, that he was all froth and brawn, and giving him the lie. utterly taken aback, macavoy could only stare, puffing in his beard, and drawing in his legs, which had been spread out at angles. he looked from wiley to the impassive pierre. "buccaneers, you callus," wiley went on; "well, we'll have no more of that, or there'll be trouble at fort o'angel." "ah, sure y'are only jokin'," said macavoy, "for i love ye, ye scoundrels. it's only me fun." "for fun like that you'll pay, ruffian!" said hatchett, bringing down his fist on the table with a bang. macavoy stood up. he looked confounded, but there was nothing of the coward in his face. "oh, well," said he, "i'll be goin', for ye've got y'r teeth all raspin'." as he went the two men laughed after him mockingly. "wind like a bag," said hatchett. "bone like a marrow-fat pea," added wiley. macavoy was at the door, but at that he turned. "if ye care to sail agin' that wind, an' gnaw on that bone, i'd not be sayin' you no." "will to-night do--at sunset?" said wiley. "bedad, then, me b'ys, sunset'll do--an' not more than two at a time," he added softly, all the roar gone from his throat. then he went out, followed by pierre. hatchett and wiley looked at each other and laughed a little confusedly. "what's that he said?" muttered wiley. "not more than two at a time, was it?" "that was it. i don't know that it's what we bargained for, after all." he looked round on the other settlers present, who had been awed by the childlike, earnest note in macavoy's last words. they shook their heads now a little sagely; they weren't so sure that pierre's little game was so jovial as it had promised. even pierre had hardly looked for so much from his giant as yet. in a little while he had got macavoy back to his old humour. "what was i made for but war!" said the irishman, "an' by war to kape thim at peace, wherever i am." soon he was sufficiently restored in spirits to go with pierre to bareback's lodge, where, sitting at the tent door, with idlers about, he smoked with the chief and his braves. again pierre worked upon him adroitly, and again he became loud in speech, and grandly patronising. "i've stood by ye like a father, ye loafers," he said, "an' i give you my word, ye howlin' rogues--" here bareback and a half-dozen braves came up suddenly from the ground, and the chief said fiercely: "you speak crooked things. we are no rogues. we will fight." macavoy's face ran red to his hair. he scratched his head a little foolishly, and gathered himself up. "sure, 'twas only me tasin', darlins," he said, "but i'll be comin' again, when y'are not so narvis." he turned to go away. pierre made a sign to bareback, and the indian touched the giant on the arm. "will you fight?" said he. "not all o' ye at once," said macavoy slowly, running his eye carefully along the half-dozen; "not more than three at a toime," he added with a simple sincerity, his voice again gone like the dove's. "at what time will it be convaynyint for ye?" he asked. "at sunset," said the chief, "before the fort." macavoy nodded and walked away with pierre, whose glance of approval at the indians did not make them thoroughly happy. to rouse the giant was not now so easy. he had already three engagements of violence for sunset. pierre directed their steps by a roundabout to the company's stores, and again there was a distinct improvement in the giant's spirits. here at least he could be himself, he thought, here no one should say him nay. as if nerved by the idea, he plunged at once into boisterous raillery of the chief trader. "oh, ho," he began, "me freebooter, me captain av the looters av the north!" the trader snarled at him. "what d'ye mean, by such talk to me, sir? i've had enough-we've all had enough--of your brag and bounce; for you're all sweat and swill-pipe, and i give you this for your chewing, that though by the company's rules i can't go out and fight you, you may have your pick of my men for it. i'll take my pay for your insults in pounded flesh--irish pemmican!" macavoy's face became mottled with sudden rage. he roared, as, perhaps, he had never roared before: "are ye all gone mad-mad-mad? i was jokin' wid ye, whin i called ye this or that. but by the swill o' me pipe, and the sweat o' me skin, i'll drink the blood o' yees, trader, me darlin'. an' all i'll ask is, that ye mate me to-night whin the rest o' the pack is in front o' the fort--but not more than four o' yees at a time--for little scrawney rats as y'are, too many o' yees wad be in me way." he wheeled and strode fiercely out. pierre smiled gently. "he's a great bully that, isn't he, trader? there'll be fun in front of the fort to-night. for he's only bragging, of course--eh?" the trader nodded with no great assurance, and then pierre said as a parting word: "you'll be there, of course--only four av ye!" and hurried out after macavoy, humming to himself- "for the king said this, and the queen said that, but he walked away with their army, o!" so far pierre's plan had worked even better than he expected, though macavoy's moods had not been altogether after his imaginings. he drew alongside the giant, who had suddenly grown quiet again. macavoy turned and looked down at pierre with the candour of a schoolboy, and his voice was very low: "it's a long time ago, i'm thinkin'," he said, "since i lost me frinds-ages an' ages ago. for me frinds are me inimies now, an' that makes a man old. but i'll not say that it cripples his arm or humbles his back." he drew his arm up once or twice and shot it out straight into the air like a catapult. "it's all right," he added, very softly, "an', halfbreed, me b'y, if me frinds have turned inimies, why, i'm thinkin' me inimy has turned frind, for that i'm sure you were, an' this i'm certain y 'are. so here's the grip av me fist, an' y'll have it." pierre remembered that disconcerting, iron grip of friendship for many a day. he laughed to himself to think how he was turning the braggart into a warrior. "well," said pierre, "what about those five at wonta's tent?" "i'll be there whin the sun dips below the little red hill," he said, as though his thoughts were far away, and he turned his face towards wonta's tent. presently he laughed out loud. "it's manny along day," he said, "since--" then he changed his thoughts. "they've spoke sharp words in me teeth," he continued, "and they'll pay for it. bounce! sweat! brag! wind! is it? there's dancin' beyant this night, me darlins!" "are you sure you'll not run away when they come on?" said pierre, a little ironically. "is that the word av a frind?" replied macavoy, a hand fumbling in his hair. "did you never run away when faced?" pierre asked pitilessly. "i never turned tail from a man, though, to be sure, it's been more talk than fight up here: fort ste. anne's been but a graveyard for fun these years." "eh, well," persisted pierre, "but did you never turn tail from a slip of a woman?" the thing was said idly. macavoy gathered his beard in his mouth, chewing it confusedly. "you've a keen tongue for a question," was his reply. "what for should anny man run from a woman?" "when the furniture flies, an' the woman knows more of the world in a day than the man does in a year; and the man's a hulking bit of an irishman-bien, then things are so and so!" macavoy drew back dazed, his big legs trembling. "come into the shade of these maples," said pierre, "for the sun has set you quaking a little," and he put out his hand to take macavoy's arm. the giant drew away from the hand, but walked on to the trees. his face seemed to have grown older by years on the moment. "what's this y'are sayin' to me?" he asked hoarsely. "what do you know av--av that woman?" "malahide is a long way off," said pierre, "but when one travels why shouldn't the other?" macavoy made a helpless motion with his lumbering hand. "mother o' saints," he said, "has it come to that, after all these years? is she-tell me where she is, me frind, and you'll niver want an arm to fight for ye, an' the half av a blanket, while i have wan!" "but you'll run as you did before, if i tell you, an' there'll be no fighting to-night, accordin' to the word you've given." "no fightin', did ye say? an' run away, is it? then this in your eye, that if ye'll bring an army, i'll fight till the skin is in rags on me bones, whin it's only men that's before me; but woman--and that wan! faith, i'd run, i'm thinkin', as i did, you know when--don't tell me that she's here, man; arrah, don't say that!" there was something pitiful and childlike in the big man's voice, so much so that pierre, calculating gamester as he was, and working upon him as he had been for many weeks, felt a sudden pity, and dropping his fingers on the other's arm, said: "no, macavoy, my friend, she is not here; but she is at fort ste. anne--or was when i left there." macavoy groaned. "does she know that i'm here?" he asked. "i think not. fort ste. anne is far away, and she may not hear." "what--what is she doing?" "keeping your memory and mr. whelan's green." then pierre told him somewhat bluntly what he knew of mrs. macavoy. "i'd rather face ballzeboob himself than her," said macavoy. "an' she's sure to find me." "not if you do as i say." "an' what is it ye say, little man?" "come away with me where she'll not find you." "an' where's that, pierre darlin'?" "i'll tell you that when to-night's fighting's over. have you a mind for wonta?" he continued. "i've a mind for wonta an' many another as fine, but i'm a married man," he said, "by priest an' by book; an' i can't forget that, though the woman's to me as the pit below." pierre looked curiously at him. "you're a wonderful fool," he said, "but i'm not sure that i like you less for that. there was shon m'gann--but it is no matter." he sighed and continued: "when to-night is over, you shall have work and fun that you've been fattening for this many a year, and the woman'll not find you, be sure of that. besides--" he whispered in macavoy's ear. "poor divil, poor divil, she'd always a throat for that; but it's a horrible death to die, i'm thinkin'." macavoy's chin dropped on his breast. when the sun was falling below little red hill, macavoy came to wonta's tent. pierre was not far away. what occurred in the tent pierre never quite knew, but presently he saw wonta run out in a frightened way, followed by the five half-breeds, who carried themselves awkwardly. behind them again, with head shaking from one side to the other, travelled macavoy; and they all marched away towards the fort. "well," said pierre to wonta, "he is amusing, eh?--so big a coward, eh?" "no, no," she said, "you are wrong. he is no coward. he is a great brave. he spoke like a little child, but he said he would fight them all when--" "when their turn came," interposed pierre, with a fine "bead" of humour in his voice; "well, you see he has much to do." he pointed towards the fort, where people were gathering fast. the strange news had gone abroad, and the settlement, laughing joyously, came to see macavoy swagger; they did not think there would be fighting. those whom macavoy had challenged were not so sure. when the giant reached the open space in front of the fort, he looked slowly round him. a great change had come over him. his skin seemed drawn together more firmly, and running himself up finely to his full height, he looked no longer the lounging braggart. pierre measured him with his eye, and chuckled to himself. macavoy stripped himself of his coat and waistcoat, and rolled up his sleeves. his shirt was flying at the chest. he beckoned to pierre. "are you standin' me frind in this?" he said. "now and after," said pierre. his voice was very simple. "i never felt as i do since the day the coast-guardsmin dropped on me in ireland far away, an' i drew blood an every wan o' them--fine beautiful b'ys they looked--stretchen' out on the ground wan by wan. d'ye know the double-an'-twist?" he suddenly added, "for it's a honey trick whin they gather in an you, an' you can't be layin' out wid yer fists. it plays the divil wid the spines av thim. will ye have a drop av drink--cold water, man--near, an' a sponge betune whiles? for there's manny in the play--makin' up for lost time. come on," he added to the two settlers, who stood not far away, "for ye began the trouble, an' we'll settle accordin' to a, b, c." wiley and hatchett were there. responding to his call, they stepped forward, though they had now little relish for the matter. they were pale, but they stripped their coats and waistcoats, and wiley stepped bravely in front of macavoy. the giant looked down on him, arms folded. "i said two of you," he crooned, as if speaking to a woman. hatchett stepped forward also. an instant after the settlers were lying on the ground at different angles, bruised and dismayed, and little likely to carry on the war. macavoy took a pail of water from the ground, drank from it lightly, and waited. none other of his opponents stirred. "there's three injins," he said, "three rid divils, that wants showin' the way to their happy huntin' grounds. . . . sure, y'are comin', ain't you, me darlins?" he added coaxingly, and he stretched himself, as if to make ready. bareback, the chief, now harangued the three indians, and they stepped forth warily. they had determined on strategic wrestling, and not on the instant activity of fists. but their wiliness was useless, for macavoy's double-and-twist came near to lessening the indian population of fort o'angel. it only broke a leg and an arm, however. the irishman came out of the tangle of battle with a wild kind of light in his eye, his beard all torn, and face battered. a shout of laughter, admiration and wonder went up from the crowd. there was a moment's pause, and then macavoy, whose blood ran high, stood forth again. the trader came to him. "must this go on?" he said; "haven't you had your fill of it?" had he touched macavoy with a word of humour the matter might have ended there; but now the giant spoke loud, so all could hear. "had me fill av it, trader, me angel? i'm only gittin' the taste av it. an' ye'll plaze bring on yer men--four it was--for the feed av irish pemmican." the trader turned and swore at pierre, who smiled enigmatically. soon after, two of the best fighters of the company's men stood forth. macavoy shook his head. "four, i said, an' four i'll have, or i'll ate the heads aff these." shamed, the trader sent forth two more. all on an instant the four made a rush on the giant; and there was a stiff minute after, in which it was not clear that he was happy. blows rattled on him, and one or two he got on the head, just as he tossed a man spinning senseless across the grass, which sent him staggering backwards for a moment, sick and stunned. pierre called over to him swiftly: "remember malahide!" this acted on him like a charm. there never was seen such a shattered bundle of men as came out from his hands a few minutes later. as for himself, he had but a rag or two on him, but stood unmindful of his state, and the fever of battle untameable on him. the women drew away. "now, me babes o' the wood," he shouted, "that sit at the feet av the finest injin woman in the north,--though she's no frind o' mine--and aren't fit to kiss her moccasin, come an wid you, till i have me fun wid your spines." but a shout went up, and the crowd pointed. there were the five halfbreeds running away across the plains. the game was over. "here's some clothes, man; for heaven's sake put them on," said the trader. then the giant became conscious of his condition, and like a timid girl he hurried into the clothing. the crowd would have carried him on their shoulders, but he would have none of it. "i've only wan frind here," he said, "an' it's pierre, an' to his shanty i go an' no other." "come, mon ami," said pierre, "for to-morrow we travel far." "and what for that?" said macavoy. pierre whispered in his ear: "to make you a king, my lovely bully." the filibuster pierre had determined to establish a kingdom, not for gain, but for conquest's sake. but because he knew that the thing would pall, he took with him macavoy the giant, to make him king instead. but first he made macavoy from a lovely bully, a bulk of good-natured brag, into a hercules of fight; for, having made him insult--and be insulted by--near a score of men at fort o'angel, he also made him fight them by twos, threes, and fours, all on a summer's evening, and send them away broken. macavoy would have hesitated to go with pierre, were it not that he feared a woman. not that he had wronged her; she had wronged him: she had married him. and the fear of one's own wife is the worst fear in the world. but though his heart went out to women, and his tongue was of the race that beguiles, he stood to his "lines" like a man, and people wondered. even wonta, the daughter of foot-in-the-sun, only bent him, she could not break him to her will. pierre turned her shy coaxing into irony--that was on the day when all fort o'angel conspired to prove macavoy a child and not a warrior. but when she saw what she had done, and that the giant was greater than his years of brag, she repented, and hung a dead coyote at pierre's door as a sign of her contempt. pierre watched macavoy, sitting with a sponge of vinegar to his head, for he had had nasty joltings in his great fight. a little laugh came crinkling up to the half-breed's lips, but dissolved into silence. "we'll start in the morning," he said. macavoy looked up. "whin you plaze; but a word in your ear; are you sure she'll not follow us?" "she doesn't know. fort ste. anne is in the south, and fort comfort, where we go, is far north." "but if she kem!" the big man persisted. "you will be a king; you can do as other kings have done," pierre chuckled. the other shook his head. "says father nolan to me, says he, "tis till death us do part, an' no man put asunder'; an' i'll stand by that, though i'd slice out the bist tin years av me life, if i niver saw her face again." "but the girl, wonta--what a queen she'd make!" "marry her yourself, and be king yourself, and be damned to you! for she, like the rest, laughed in me face, whin i told thim of the day whin i--" "that's nothing. she hung a dead coyote at my door. you don't know women. there'll be your breed and hers abroad in the land one day." macavoy stretched to his feet--he was so tall that he could not stand upright in the room. he towered over pierre, who blandly eyed him. "i've another word for your ear," he said darkly. "keep clear av the likes o' that wid me. for i've swallowed a tribe av divils. it's fightin' you want. well, i'll do it--i've an itch for the throats av men, but a fool i'll be no more wid wimin, white or red--that hell-cat that spoilt me life an' killed me child, or--" a sob clutched him in the throat. "you had a child, then?" asked pierre gently. "an angel she was, wid hair like the sun, an' 'd melt the heart av an iron god: none like her above or below. but the mother, ah, the mother of her! one day whin she'd said a sharp word, wid another from me, an' the child clinging to her dress, she turned quick and struck it, meanin' to anger me. not so hard the blow was, but it sent the darlin's head agin' the chimney-stone, and that was the end av it. for she took to her bed, an' agin' the crowin' o' the cock wan midnight, she gives a little cry an' snatched at me beard. 'daddy,' says she, 'daddy, it hurts!' an' thin she floats away, wid a stitch av pain at her lips." macavoy sat down now, his fingers fumbling in his beard. pierre was uncomfortable. he could hear of battle, murder, and sudden death unmoved--it seemed to him in the game; but the tragedy of a child, a mere counter yet in the play of life--that was different. he slid a hand over the table, and caught macavoy's arm. "poor little waif!" he said. macavoy gave the hand a grasp that turned pierre sick, and asked: "had ye iver a child av y'r own, pierre-iver wan at all?" "never," said pierre dreamily, "and i've travelled far. a child--a child --is a wonderful thing. . . . poor little waif!" they both sat silent for a moment. pierre was about to rise, but macavoy suddenly pinned him to his seat with this question: "did y' iver have a wife, thin, pierre?" pierre turned pale. a sharp breath came through his teeth. he spoke slowly: "yes, once." "and she died?" asked the other, awed. "we all have our day," he replied enigmatically, "and there are worse things than death. . . . eh, well, mon ami, let us talk of other things. to-morrow we go to conquer. i know where i can get five men i want. i have ammunition and dogs." a few minutes afterwards pierre was busy in the settlement. at the fort he heard strange news. a new batch of settlers was coming from the south, and among them was an old irishwoman who called herself now mrs. whelan, now mrs. macavoy. she talked much of the lad she was to find, one tim macavoy, whose fame gossip had brought to her at last. she had clung on to the settlers, and they could not shake her off. "she was comin'," she said, "to her own darlin' b'y, from whom she'd been parted manny a year, believin' him dead, or tom whelan had nivir touched hand o' hers." the bearer of the news had but just arrived, and he told it only to the chief trader and pierre. at a word from pierre the man promised to hold his peace. then pierre went to wonta's lodge. he found her with her father alone, her head at her knees. when she heard his voice she looked up sharply, and added a sharp word also. "wait," he said; "women are such fools. you snapped your fingers in his face, and laughed at him. bien, that is nothing. he has proved himself great. that is something. he will be greater still, if the other woman does not find him. she should die, but then some women have no sense." "the other woman!" said wonta, starting to her feet; "who is the other woman?" old foot-in-the-sun waked and sat up, but seeing that it was pierre, dropped again to sleep. pierre, he knew, was no peril to any woman. besides, wonta hated the half-breed, as he thought. pierre told the girl the story of macavoy's life; for he knew that she loved the man after her heathen fashion, and that she could be trusted. "i do not care for that," she said, when he had finished; "it is nothing. i would go with him. i should be his wife, the other should die. i would kill her, if she would fight me. i know the way of knives, or a rifle, or a pinch at the throat--she should die!" "yes, but that will not do. keep your hands free of her." then he told her that they were going away. she said she would go also. he said no to that, but told her to wait and he would come back for her. though she tried hard to follow them, they slipped away from the fort in the moist gloom of the morning, the brown grass rustling, the prairiehens fluttering, the osiers soughing as they passed, the spirit of the north, ever hungry, drawing them on over the long divides. they did not see each other's faces till dawn. they were guided by pierre's voice; none knew his comrades. besides pierre and macavoy, there were five half-breeds--noel, little babiche, corvette, josh, and jacques parfaite. when they came to recognise each other, they shook hands, and marched on. in good time they reached that wonderful and pleasant country between the barren grounds and the lake of silver shallows. to the north of it was fort comfort, which they had come to take. macavoy's rich voice roared as of old, before his valour was questioned--and maintained--at fort o'angel. pierre had diverted his mind from the woman who, at fort o'angel, was even now calling heaven and earth to witness that "tim macavoy was her macavoy and no other, an' she'd find him--the divil and darlin', wid an arm like broin borhoime, an' a chest you could build a house on--if she walked till doomsday!" macavoy stood out grandly, his fat all gone to muscle, blowing through his beard, puffing his cheek, and ready with tale or song. but now that they were facing the business of their journey, his voice got soft and gentle, as it did before the fort, when he grappled his foes two by two and three by three, and wrung them out. in his eyes there was the thing which counts as many men in any soldier's sight, when he leads in battle. as he said himself, he was made for war, like malachi o' the golden collar. pierre guessed that just now many of the indians would be away for the summer hunt, and that the fort would perhaps be held by only a few score of braves, who, however, would fight when they might easier play. he had no useless compunctions about bloodshed. a human life he held to be a trifle in the big sum of time, and that it was of little moment when a man went, if it seemed his hour. he lived up to his creed, for he had ever held his own life as a bird upon a housetop, which a chance stone might drop. he was glad afterwards that he had decided to fight, for there was one in fort comfort against whom he had an old grudge--the indian, young eye, who, many years before, had been one to help in killing the good father halen, the priest who dropped the water on his forehead and set the cross on top of that, when he was at his mother's breasts. one by one the murderers had been killed, save this man. he had wandered north, lived on the coppermine river for a long time, and at length had come down among the warring tribes at the lake of silver shallows. pierre was for direct attack. they crossed the lake in their canoes, at a point about five miles from the fort, and, so far as they could tell, without being seen. then ammunition went round, and they marched upon the fort. pierre eyed macavoy--measured him, as it were, for what he was worth. the giant seemed happy. he was humming a tune softly through his beard. suddenly jose paused, dropped to the foot of a pine, and put his ear to it. pierre understood. he had caught at the same thing. "there is a dance on," said jose, "i can hear the drum." pierre thought a minute. "we will reconnoitre," he said presently. "it is near night now," remarked little babiche. "i know something of these. when they have a great snake dance at night, strange things happen." then he spoke in a low tone to pierre. they halted in the bush, and little babiche went forward to spy upon the fort. he came back just after sunset, reporting that the indians were feasting. he had crept near, and had learned that the braves were expected back from the hunt that night, and that the feast was for their welcome. the fort stood in an open space, with tall trees for a background. in front, here and there, were juniper and tamarac bushes. pierre laid his plans immediately, and gave the word to move on. their presence had not been discovered, and if they could but surprise the indians the fort might easily be theirs. they made a detour, and after an hour came upon the fort from behind. pierre himself went forward cautiously, leaving macavoy in command. when he came again he said: "it's a fine sight, and the way is open. they are feasting and dancing. if we can enter without being seen, we are safe, except for food; we must trust for that. come on." when they arrived at the margin of the woods a wonderful scene was before them. a volcanic hill rose up on one side, gloomy and stern, but the reflection of the fires reached it, and made its sides quiver--the rock itself seemed trembling. the sombre pines showed up, a wall all round, and in the open space, turreted with fantastic fires, the indians swayed in and out with weird chanting, their bodies mostly naked, and painted in strange colours. the earth itself was still and sober. scarce a star peeped forth. a purple velvet curtain seemed to hang all down the sky, though here and there the flame bronzed it. the indian lodges were empty, save where a few children squatted at the openings. the seven stood still with wonder, till pierre whispered to them to get to the ground and crawl close in by the walls of the fort, following him. they did so, macavoy breathing hard--too hard; for suddenly pierre clapped a hand on his mouth. they were now near the fort, and pierre had seen an indian come from the gate. the brave was within a few feet of them. he had almost passed them, for they were in the shadow, but jose had burst a puffball with his hand, and the dust, flying up, made him sneeze. the indian turned and saw them. with a low cry and the spring of a tiger pierre was at his throat; and in another minute they were struggling on the ground. pierre's hand never let go. his comrades did not stir; he had warned them to lie still. they saw the terrible game played out within arm's length of them. they heard pierre say at last, as the struggles of the indian ceased: "beast! you had father halen's life. i have yours." there was one more wrench of the indian's limbs, and then he lay still. they crawled nearer the gate, still hidden in the shadows and the grass. presently they came to a clear space. across this they must go, and enter the fort before they were discovered. they got to their feet, and ran with wonderful swiftness, pierre leading, to the gate. they had just reached it when there was a cry from the walls, on which two indians were sitting. the indians sprang down, seized their spears, and lunged at the seven as they entered. one spear caught little babiche in the arm as he swung aside, but with the butt of his musket noel dropped him. the other indian was promptly handled by pierre himself. by this time corvette and jose had shut the gates, and the fort was theirs--an easy conquest. the indians were bound and gagged. the adventurers had done it all without drawing the attention of the howling crowd without. the matter was in its infancy, however. they had the place, but could they hold it? what food and water were there within? perhaps they were hardly so safe besieged as besiegers. yet there was no doubt on pierre's part. he had enjoyed the adventure so far up to the hilt. an old promise had been kept, and an old wrong avenged. "what's to be done now?" said macavoy. "there'll be hell's own racket; and they'll come on like a flood." "to wait," said pierre, "and dam the flood as it comes. but not a bullet till i give the word. take to the chinks. we'll have them soon." he was right: they came soon. someone had found the dead body of young eye; then it was discovered that the gate was shut. a great shout went up. the indians ran to their lodges for spears and hatchets, though the weapons of many were within the fort, and soon they were about the place, shouting in impotent rage. they could not tell how many invaders were in the fort; they suspected it was the little skins, their ancient enemies. but young eye, they saw, had not been scalped. this was brought to the old chief, and he called to his men to fall back. they had not seen one man of the invaders; all was silent and dark within the fort; even the two torches which had been burning above the gate were down. at that moment, as if to add to the strangeness, a caribou came suddenly through the fires, and, passing not far from the bewildered indians, plunged into the trees behind the fort. the caribou is credited with great powers. it is thought to understand all that is said to it, and to be able to take the form of a spirit. no indian will come near it till it is dead, and he that kills it out of season is supposed to bring down all manner of evil. so at this sight they cried out--the women falling to the ground with their faces in their arms--that the caribou had done this thing. for a moment they were all afraid. besides, as a brave showed, there was no mark on the body of young eye. pierre knew quite well that this was a bull caribou, travelling wildly till he found another herd. he would carry on the deception. "wail for the dead, as your women do in ireland. that will finish them," he said to macavoy. the giant threw his voice up and out, so that it seemed to come from over the fort to the indians, weird and crying. even the half-breeds standing by felt a light shock of unnatural excitement. the indians without drew back slowly from the fort, leaving a clear space between. macavoy had uncanny tricks with his voice, and presently he changed the song into a shrill, wailing whistle, which went trembling about the place and then stopped suddenly. "sure, that's a poor game, pierre," he whispered; "an' i'd rather be pluggin' their hides wid bullets, or givin' the double-an'-twist. it's fightin' i come for, and not the trick av mother kilkevin." pierre arranged a plan of campaign at once. every man looked to his gun, the gates were slowly opened, and macavoy stepped out. pierre had thrown over the irishman's shoulders the great skin of a musk-ox which he had found inside the stockade. he was a strange, immense figure, as he walked into the open space, and, folding his arms, looked round. in the shadow of the gate behind were pierre and the halfbreeds, with guns cocked. macavoy had lived so long in the north that he knew enough of all the languages to speak to this tribe. when he came out a murmur of wonder ran among the indians. they had never seen anyone so tall, for they were not great of stature, and his huge beard and wild shock of hair were a wonderful sight. he remained silent, looking on them. at last the old chief spoke. "who are you?" "i am a great chief from the hills of the mighty men, come to be your king," was his reply. "he is your king," cried pierre in a strange voice from the shadow of the gate, and he thrust out his gun-barrel, so that they could see it. the indians now saw pierre and the half-breeds in the gateway, and they had not so much awe. they came a little nearer, and the women stopped crying. a few of the braves half-raised their spears. seeing this, pierre instantly stepped forward to the giant. he looked a child in stature thereby. he spoke quickly and well in the chinook language. "this is a mighty man from the hills of the mighty men. he has come to rule over you, to give all other tribes into your hands; for he has strength like a thousand, and fears nothing of gods nor men. i have the blood of red men in me. it is i who have called this man from his distant home. i heard of your fighting and foolishness: also that warriors were to come from the south country to scatter your wives and children, and to make you slaves. i pitied you, and i have brought you a chief greater than any other. throw your spears upon the ground, and all will be well; but raise one to throw, or one arrow, or axe, and there shall be death among you, so that as a people you shall die. the spirits are with us. . . . well?" the indians drew a little nearer, but they did not drop their spears, for the old chief forbade them. "we are no dogs nor cowards," he said, "though the spirits be with you, as we believe. we have seen strange things"--he pointed to young eye-"and heard voices not of men; but we would see great things as well as strange. there are seven men of the little skins tribe within a lodge yonder. they were to die when our braves returned from the hunt, and for that we prepared the feast. but this mighty man, he shall fight them all at once, and if he kills them he shall be our king. in the name of my tribe i speak. and this other," pointing to pierre, "he shall also fight with a strong man of our tribe, so that we shall know if you are all brave, and not as those who crawl at the knees of the mighty." this was more than pierre had bargained for. seven men at macavoy, and indians too, fighting for their lives, was a contract of weight. but macavoy was blowing in his beard cheerfully enough. "let me choose me ground," he said, "wid me back to the wall, an' i'll take thim as they come." pierre instantly interpreted this to the indians, and said for himself that he would welcome their strongest man at the point of a knife when he chose. the chief gave an order, and the little skins were brought. the fires still burned brightly, and the breathing of the pines, as a slight wind rose and stirred them, came softly over. the indians stood off at the command of the chief. macavoy drew back to the wall, dropped the musk-ox skin to the ground, and stripped himself to the waist. but in his waistband there was what none of these indians had ever seen--a small revolver that barked ever so softly. in the hands of each little skin there was put a knife, and they were told their cheerful exercise. they came on cautiously, and then suddenly closed in, knives flashing. but macavoy's little bulldog barked, and one dropped to the ground. the others fell back. the wounded man drew up, made a lunge at macavoy, but missed him. as if ashamed, the other six came on again at a spring. but again the weapon did its work smartly, and one more came down. now the giant put it away, ran in upon the five, and cut right and left. so sudden and massive was his rush that they had no chance. three fell at his blows, and then he drew back swiftly to the wall. "drop your knives," he said, as they cowered, "or i'll kill you all." they did so. he dropped his own. "now come on, ye scuts!" he cried, and suddenly he reached and caught them, one with each arm, and wrestled with them, till he bent the one like a willow-rod, and dropped him with a broken back, while the other was at his mercy. suddenly loosing him, he turned him towards the woods, and said: "run, ye rid divil, run for y'r life!" a dozen spears were raised, but the rifles of pierre's men came in between: the indian reached cover and was gone. of the six others, two had been killed, the rest were severely wounded, and macavoy had not a scratch. pierre smiled grimly. "you've been doing all the fighting, macavoy," he said. "there's no bein' a king for nothin'," he replied, wiping blood from his beard. "it's my turn now, but keep your rifles ready, though i think there's no need." pierre had but a short minute with the champion, for he was an expert with the knife. he carried away four fingers of the indian's fighting hand, and that ended it; for the next instant the point was at the red man's throat. the indian stood to take it like a man; but pierre loved that kind of courage, and shot the knife into its sheath instead. the old chief kept his word, and after the spears were piled, he shook hands with macavoy, as did his braves one by one, and they were all moved by the sincerity of his grasp: their arms were useless for some time after. they hailed as their ruler, king macavoy i.; for men are like dogs--they worship him who beats them. the feasting and dancing went on till the hunters came back. then there was a wild scene, but in the end all the hunters, satisfied, came to greet their new king. the king himself went to bed in the fort that night, pierre and his bodyguard--by name noel, little babiche, corvette, jose, and parfaite --its only occupants, singing joyfully: "did yees iver hear tell o' long barney, that come from the groves o' killarney? he wint for a king, oh, he wint for a king, but he niver keen back to killarney wid his crown, an' his soord, an' his army!" as a king macavoy was a success, for the brag had gone from him. like all his race he had faults as a subject, but the responsibility of ruling set him right. he found in the fort an old sword and belt, left by some hudson's bay company's man, and these he furbished up and wore. with pierre's aid he drew up a simple constitution, which he carried in the crown of his cap, and he distributed beads and gaudy trappings as marks of honour. nor did he forget the frequent pipe of peace, made possible to all by generous gifts of tobacco. anyone can found a kingdom abaft the barren grounds with tobacco, beads, and red flannel. for very many weeks it was a happy kingdom. but presently pierre yawned, and was ready to return. three of the half-breeds were inclined to go with him. jose and little babiche had formed alliances which held them there--besides, king macavoy needed them. on the eve of pierre's departure a notable thing occurred. a young brave had broken his leg in hunting, had been picked up by a band of another tribe, and carried south. he found himself at last at fort o'angel. there he had met mrs. whelan, and for presents of tobacco, and purple and fine linen, he had led her to her consort. that was how the king and pierre met her in the yard of fort comfort one evening of early autumn. pierre saw her first, and was for turning the king about and getting him away; but it was too late. mrs. whelan had seen him, and she called out at him: "oh, tim! me jool, me king, have i found ye, me imp'ror!" she ran at him, to throw her arms round him. he stepped back, the red of his face going white, and said, stretching out his hand, "woman, y'are me wife, i know, whativer y' be; an' y've right to have shelter and bread av me; but me arms, an' me bed, are me own to kape or to give; and, by god, ye shall have nayther one nor the other! there's a ditch as wide as hell betune us." the indians had gathered quickly; they filled the yard, and crowded the gate. the woman went wild, for she had been drinking. she ran at macavoy and spat in his face, and called down such a curse on him as, whoever hears, be he one that's cursed or any other, shudders at till he dies. then she fell in a fit at his feet. macavoy turned to the indians, stretched out his hands and tried to speak, but could not. he stooped down, picked up the woman, carried her into the fort, and laid her on a bed of skins. "what will you do?" asked pierre. "she is my wife," he answered firmly. "she lived with whelan." "she must be cared for," was the reply. pierre looked at him with a curious quietness. "i'll get liquor for her," he said presently. he started to go, but turned and felt the woman's pulse. "you would keep her?" he asked. "bring the liquor." macavoy reached for water, and dipping the sleeve of his shirt in it, wetted her face gently. pierre brought the liquor, but he knew that the woman would die. he stayed with macavoy beside her all the night. towards morning her eyes opened, and she shivered greatly. "it's bither cold," she said. "you'll put more wood on the fire, tim, for the babe must be kept warrum." she thought she was at malahide. "oh, wurra, wurra, but 'tis freezin'!" she said again. "why d'ye kape the door opin whin the child's perishin'?" macavoy sat looking at her, his trouble shaking him. "i'll shut the door meself, thin," she added; "for 'twas i that lift it opin, tim." she started up, but gave a cry like a wailing wind, and fell back. "the door is shut," said pierre. "but the child--the child!" said macavoy, tears running down his face and beard. the gift of the simple king once macavoy the giant ruled a tribe of northern people, achieving the dignity by the hands of pierre, who called him king macavoy. then came a time when, tiring of his kingship, he journeyed south, leaving all behind, even his queen, wonta, who, in her bed of cypresses and yarrow, came forth no more into the morning. about fort guidon they still gave him his title, and because of his guilelessness, sincerity, and generosity, pierre called him "the simple king." his seven feet and over shambled about, suggesting unjointed power, unshackled force. no one hated macavoy, many loved him, he was welcome at the fire and the cooking-pot; yet it seemed shameful to have so much man useless-such an engine of life, which might do great things, wasting fuel. nobody thought much of that at fort guidon, except, perhaps, pierre, who sometimes said, "my simple king, some day you shall have your great chance again; but not as a king--as a giant, a man--voila!" the day did not come immediately, but it came. when ida, the deaf and dumb girl, married hilton, of the h.b.c., every man at fort guidon, and some from posts beyond, sent her or brought her presents of one kind or another. pierre's gift was a mexican saddle. he was branding ida's name on it with the broken blade of a case-knife when macavoy entered on him, having just returned from a vagabond visit to fort ste. anne. "is it digging out or carvin' in y'are?" he asked, puffing into his beard. pierre looked up contemptuously, but did not reply to the insinuation, for he never saw an insult unless he intended to avenge it; and he would not quarrel with macavoy. "what are you going to give?" he asked. "aw, give what to who, hop-o'-me-thumb?" macavoy said, stretching himself out in the doorway, his legs in the sun, head in the shade. "you've been taking a walk in the country, then?" pierre asked, though he knew. "to fort ste. anne: a buryin', two christ'nin's, an' a weddin'; an' lashin's av grog an' swill-aw that, me button o' the north!" "la la! what a fool you are, my simple king! you've got the things end foremost. turn your head to the open air, for i go to light a cigarette, and if you breathe this way, there will be a grand explode." "aw, yer thumb in yer eye, pierre! it's like a baby's, me breath is, milk and honey it is--aw yis; an' father corraine, that was doin' the trick for the love o' god, says he to me, 'little tim macavoy,'--aw yis, little tim macavoy,--says he, 'when are you goin' to buckle to, for the love o' god?' says he. ashamed i was, pierre, that father corraine should spake to me like that, for i'd only a twig twisted at me hips to kape me trousies up, an' i thought 'twas that he had in his eye! 'buckle to,' says i, 'father corraine? buckle to, yer riv'rince?'--feelin' i was at the twigs the while. 'ay, little tim macavoy,' he says, says he, 'you've bin 'atin' the husks av idleness long enough; when are you goin' to buckle to? you had a kingdom and ye guv it up,' says he; 'take a field, get a plough, and buckle to,' says he, 'an' turn back no more'-like that, says father corraine; and i thinkin' all the time 'twas the want o' me belt he was drivin' at." pierre looked at him a moment idly, then said: "such a tom-fool! and where's that grand leather belt of yours, eh, my monarch?" a laugh shook through macavoy's beard. "for the weddin' it wint: buckled the two up wid it for better or worse--an' purty they looked, they did, standin' there in me cinch, an' one hole left--aw yis, pierre." "and what do you give to ida?" pierre asked, with a little emphasis of the branding-iron. macavoy got to his feet. "ida! ida!" said he. "is that saddle for ida? is it her and hilton that's to ate aff one dish togither? that rose o' the valley, that bird wid a song in her face and none an her tongue. that daisy dot av a thing, steppin' through the world like a sprig o' glory. aw, pierre, thim two!--an' i've divil a scrap to give, good or bad. i've nothin' at all in the wide wurruld but the clothes an me back, an' thim hangin' on the underbrush!"--giving a little twist to the twigs. "an' many a meal an' many a dipper o' drink she's guv me, little smiles dancin' at her lips." he sat down in the doorway again, with his face turned towards pierre, and the back of his head in the sun. he was a picture of perfect health, sumptuous, huge, a bull in beauty, the heart of a child looking out of his eyes, but a sort of despair, too, in his bearing. pierre watched him with a furtive humour for a time, then he said languidly: "never mind your clothes, give yourself." "yer tongue in yer cheek, me spot o' vinegar. give meself! what's that for? a purty weddin' gift, says i? handy thing to have in the house! use me for a clothes-horse, or shtand me in the garden for a fairy boweraw yis, wid a hole in me face that'd ate thim out o' house and home!" pierre drew a piece of brown paper towards him, and wrote on it with a burnt match. presently he held it up. "voila, my simple king, the thing for you to do: a grand gift, and to cost you nothing now. come, read it out, and tell me what you think." macavoy took the paper, and in a large, judicial way, read slowly: "on demand, for value received, i promise to pay to . . . ida hilton . . . or order, meself, tim macavoy, standin' seven foot three on me bare fut, wid interest at nothin' at all." macavoy ended with a loud smack of the lips. "mcguire!" he said, and nothing more. mcguire was his strongest expression. in the most important moments of his career he had said it, and it sounded deep, strange, and more powerful than many usual oaths. a moment later he said again "mcguire!" then he read the paper once more out loud. "what's that, me frinchman?" he asked. "what ballzeboob's tricks are y'at now?" pierre was complacently eyeing his handiwork on the saddle. he now settled back with his shoulders to the wall, and said: "see, then, it's a little promissory note for a wedding-gift to ida. when she says some day, 'tim macavoy, i want you to do this or that, or to go here or there, or to sell you or trade you, or use you for a clothes-horse, or a bridge over a canyon, or to hold up a house, or blow out a prairie-fire, or be my second husband,' you shall say, 'here i am'; and you shall travel from heaven to halifax, but you shall come at the call of this promissory." pierre's teeth glistened behind a smile as he spoke, and macavoy broke into a roar of laughter. "black's the white o' yer eye," he said at last, "an' a joke's a joke. seven fut three i am, an' sound av wind an' limb--an' a weddin'-gift to that swate rose o' the valley! aisy, aisy, pierre. a bit o' foolin' 'twas ye put on the paper, but truth i'll make it, me cock o' the walk. that's me gift to her an' hilton, an' no other. an' a dab wid red wax it shall have, an' what more be the word o' freddy tarlton the lawyer?" "you're a great man," said pierre with a touch of gentle irony, for his natural malice had no play against the huge ex-king of his own making. with these big creatures--he had connived with several in his time--he had ever been superior, protective, making them to feel that they were as children beside him. he looked at macavoy musingly, and said to himself: "well, why not? if it is a joke, then it is a joke; if it is a thing to make the world stand still for a minute sometime, so much the better. he is all waste now. by the holy, he shall do it. it is amusing, and it may be great by and by." presently pierre said aloud: "well, my macavoy, what will you do? send this good gift?" "aw yis, pierre; i shtand by that from the crown av me head to the sole av me fut sure. face like a mornin' in may, and hands like the tunes of an organ, she has. spakes wid a look av her eye and a twist av her purty lips an' swaying body, an' talkin' to you widout a word. aw motion-motion--motion; yis, that's it. an' i've seen her an tap av a hill wid the wind blowin' her hair free, and the yellow buds on the tree, and the grass green beneath her feet, the world smilin' betune her and the sun: pictures--pictures, aw yis! promissory notice on demand is it anny toime? seven fut three on me bare toes--but father o' sin! when she calls i come, yis." "on your oath, macavoy?" asked pierre; "by the book av the mass?" macavoy stood up straight till his head scraped the cobwebs between the rafters, the wild indignation of a child in his eye. "d'ye think i'm a thafe to stale me own word? hut! i'll break ye in two, ye wisp o' straw, if ye doubt me word to a lady. there's me note av hand, and ye shall have me fist on it, in writin', at freddy tarlton's office, wid a blotch av red an' the queen's head at the bottom. mcguire!" he said again, and paused, puffing his lips through his beard. pierre looked at him a moment, then waving his fingers idly, said, "so, my straw-breaker! then tomorrow morning at ten you will fetch your wedding-gift. but come so soon now to m'sieu' tarlton's office, and we will have it all as you say, with the red seal and the turn of your fist --yes. well, well, we travel far in the world, and sometimes we see strange things, and no two strange things are alike--no; there is only one macavoy in the world, there was only one shon mcgann. shon mcgann was a fine fool, but he did something at last, truly yes: tim macavoy, perhaps, will do something at last on his own hook. hey, i wonder!" he felt the muscles of macavoy's arm musingly, and then laughed up in the giant's face. "once i made you a king, my own, and you threw it all away; now i make you a slave, and we shall see what you will do. come along, for m'sieu' tarlton." macavoy dropped a heavy hand on pierre's shoulder. "'tis hard to be a king, pierre, but 'tis aisy to be a slave for the likes o' her. i'd kiss her dirty shoe sure!" as they passed through the door, pierre said, "dis done, perhaps, when all is done, she will sell you for old bones and rags. then i will buy you, and i will burn your bones and the rags, and i will scatter to the four winds of the earth the ashes of a king, a slave, a fool, and an irishman--truly!" "bedad, ye'll have more earth in yer hands then, pierre, than ye'll ever earn, and more heaven than ye'll ever shtand in." half an hour later they were in freddy tarlton's office on the banks of the little big swan, which tumbled past, swelled by the first rain of the early autumn. freddy tarlton, who had a gift of humour, entered into the spirit of the thing, and treated it seriously; but in vain did he protest that the large red seal with her majesty's head on it was unnecessary; macavoy insisted, and wrote his name across it with a large indistinctness worthy of a king. before the night was over everybody at guidon hill, save hilton and ida, knew what gift would come from macavoy to the wedded pair. ii the next morning was almost painfully beautiful, so delicate in its clearness, so exalted by the glory of the hills, so grand in the limitless stretch of the green-brown prairie north and south. it was a day for god's creatures to meet in, and speed away, and having flown round the boundaries of that spacious domain, to return again to the nest of home on the large plateau between the sea and the stars. gathered about ida's home was everybody who lived within a radius of a hundred miles. in the large front room all the presents were set: rich furs from the far north, cunningly carved bowls, rocking-chairs made by hand, knives, cooking utensils, a copy of shakespeare in six volumes from the protestant missionary who performed the ceremony, a nugget of gold from the long light river; and outside the door, a horse, hilton's own present to his wife, on which was put pierre's saddle, with its silver mounting and ida's name branded deep on pommel and flap. when macavoy arrived, a cheer went up, which was carried on waves of laughter into the house to hilton and ida, who even then were listening to the first words of the brief service which begins, "i charge you both if you do know any just cause or impediment--" and so on. they did not turn to see what it was, for just at that moment they themselves were the very centre of the universe. ida being deaf and dumb, it was necessary to interpret to her the words of the service by signs, as the missionary read it, and this was done by pierre himself, the half-breed catholic, the man who had brought hilton and ida together, for he and ida had been old friends. after father corraine had taught her the language of signs, pierre had learned them from her, until at last his gestures had become as vital as her own. the delicate precision of his every movement, the suggestiveness of look and motion, were suited to a language which was nearer to the instincts of his own nature than word of mouth. all men did not trust pierre, but all women did; with those he had a touch of machiavelli, with these he had no sign of mephistopheles, and few were the occasions in his life when he showed outward tenderness to either: which was equally effective. he had learnt, or knew by instinct, that exclusiveness as to men and indifference as to women are the greatest influences on both. as he stood there, slowly interpreting to ida, by graceful allusive signs, the words of the service, one could not think that behind his impassive face there was any feeling for the man or for the woman. he had that disdainful smile which men acquire who are all their lives aloof from the hopes of the hearthstone and acknowledge no laws but their own. more than once the eyes of the girl filled with tears, as the pregnancy of some phrase in the service came home to her. her face responded to pierre's gestures, as do one's nerves to the delights of good music, and there was something so unique, so impressive in the ceremony, that the laughter which had greeted macavoy passed away, and a dead silence; beginning from where the two stood, crept out until it covered all the prairie. nothing was heard except hilton's voice in strong tones saying, "i take thee to be my wedded wife," etc.; but when the last words of the service were said, and the newmade bride turned to her husband's embrace, and a little sound of joy broke from her lips, there was plenty of noise and laughter again, for macavoy stood in the doorway, or rather outside it, stooping to look in upon the scene. someone had lent him the cinch of a broncho and he had belted himself with it, no longer carrying his clothes about "on the underbrush." hilton laughed and stretched out his hand. "come in, king," he said, "come and wish us joy." macavoy parted the crowd easily, forcing his way, and instantly was stooping before the pair--for he could not stand upright in the room. "aw, now, hilton, is it you, is it you, that's pluckin' the rose av the valley, snatchin' the stars out av the sky! aw, hilton, the like o' that! travel down i did yesterday from fort ste. anne, and divil a word i knew till pierre hit me in the eye wid it last night--and no time for a present, for a wedding-gift--no, aw no!" just here ida reached up and touched him on the shoulder. he smiled down on her, puffing and blowing in his beard, bursting to speak to her, yet knowing no word by signs to say; but he nodded his head at her, and he patted hilton's shoulder, and he took their hands and joined them together, hers on top of hilton's, and shook them in one of his own till she almost winced. presently, with a look at hilton, who nodded in reply, ida lifted her cheek to macavoy to kiss--macavoy, the idle, illcared-for, boisterous giant. his face became red like that of a child caught in an awkward act, and with an absurd shyness he stooped and touched her cheek. then he turned to hilton, and blurted out, "aw, the rose o' the valley, the pride o' the wide wurruld! aw, the bloom o' the hills! i'd have kissed her dirty shoe. mcquire!" a burst of laughter rolled out on the clear air of the prairie, and the hills seemed to stir with the pleasure of life. then it was that macavoy, following hilton and ida outside, suddenly stopped beside the horse, drew from his pocket the promissory note that pierre had written, and said, "yis, but all the weddin'-gifts aren't in. 'tis nothin' i had to give-divil a cent in the wurruld, divil a pound av baccy, or a pot for the fire, or a bit av linin for the table; nothin' but meself and me dirty clothes, standin' seven fut three an me bare toes. what was i to do? there was only meself to give, so i give it free and hearty, and here it is wid the queen's head an it, done in mr. tarlton's office. ye'd better had had a dog, or a gun, or a ladder, or a horse, or a saddle, or a quart o' brown brandy; but such as it is i give it ye-i give it to the rose o' the valley and the star o' the wide wurruld." in a loud voice he read the promissory note, and handed it to ida. men laughed till there were tears in their eyes, and a keg of whisky was opened; but somehow ida did not laugh. she and pierre had seen a serious side to macavoy's gift: the childlike manliness in it. it went home to her woman's heart without a touch of ludicrousness, without a sound of laughter. iii after a time the interest in this wedding-gift declined at fort guidon, and but three people remembered it with any singular distinctness--ida, pierre, and macavoy. pierre was interested, for in his primitive mind he knew that, however wild a promise, life is so wild in its events, there comes the hour for redemption of all i o u's. meanwhile, weeks, months, and even a couple of years passed, macavoy and pierre coming and going, sometimes together, sometimes not, in all manner of words at war, in all manner of fact at peace. and ida, out of the bounty of her nature, gave the two vagabonds a place at her fireside whenever they chose to come. perhaps, where speech was not given, a gift of divination entered into her instead, and she valued what others found useless, and held aloof from what others found good. she had powers which had ever been the admiration of guidon hill. birds and animals were her friends--she called them her kinsmen. a peculiar sympathy joined them; so that when, at last, she tamed a white wild duck, and made it do the duties of a carrier-pigeon, no one thought it strange. up in the hills, beside the white sun river, lived her sister and her sister's children; and, by and by, the duck carried messages back and forth, so that when, in the winter, ida's health became delicate, she had comfort in the solicitude and cheerfulness of her sister, and the gaiety of the young birds of her nest, who sent ida many a sprightly message and tales of their good vagrancy in the hills. in these days pierre and macavoy were little at the post, save now and then to sit with hilton beside the fire, waiting for spring and telling tales. upon hilton had settled that peaceful, abstracted expectancy which shows man at his best, as he waits for the time when, through the half-lights of his fatherhood, he shall see the broad fine dawn of motherhood spreading up the world-which, all being said and done, is that place called home. something gentle came over him while he grew stouter in body and in all other ways made a larger figure among the people of the west. as pierre said, whose wisdom was more to be trusted than his general morality, "it is strange that most men think not enough of themselves till a woman shows them how. but it is the great wonder that the woman does not despise him for it. quel caractere! she has so often to show him his way like a babe, and yet she says to him, mon grand homme! my master! my lord! pshaw! i have often thought that women are half saints, half fools, and men half fools, half rogues. but quelle vie!-what life! without a woman you are half a man; with one you are bound to a single spot in the world, you are tied by the leg, your wing is clipped--you cannot have all. quelle vie--what life!" to this macavoy said: "spit-spat! but what the devil good does all yer thinkin' do ye, pierre? it's argufy here and argufy there, an' while yer at that, me an' the rest av us is squeezin' the fun out o' life. aw, go 'long wid ye. y'are only a bit o' hell and grammar, annyway. wid all yer cuttin' and carvin' things to see the internals av thim, i'd do more to the call av a woman's finger than for all the logic and knowalogy y' ever chewed--an' there y'are, me little tailor o' jur'sprudince!" "to the finger call of hilton's wife, eh?" macavoy was not quite sure what pierre's enigmatical tone meant. a wild light showed in his eyes, and his tongue blundered out: "yis, hilton's wife's finger, or a look av her eye, or nothin' at all. aisy, aisy, ye wasp! ye'd go stalkin' divils in hell for her yerself, so ye would. but the tongue av ye--but, it's gall to the tip." "maybe, my king. but i'd go hunting because i wanted; you because you must. you're a slave to come and to go, with a queen's seal on the promissory." macavoy leaned back and roared. "aw, that! the rose o' the valley--the joy o' the wurruld! s't, pierre--" his voice grew softer on a sudden, as a fresh thought came to him--"did y' ever think that the child might be dumb like the mother?" this was a day in the early spring, when the snows were melting in the hills, and freshets were sweeping down the valleys far and near. that night a warm heavy rain came on, and in the morning every stream and river was swollen to twice its size. the mountains seemed to have stripped themselves of snow, and the vivid sun began at once to colour the foothills with green. as pierre and macavoy stood at their door, looking out upon the earth cleansing itself, macavoy suddenly said: "aw, look, look, pierre--her white duck off to the nest on champak hill!" they both shaded their eyes with their hands. circling round two or three times above the post, the duck then stretched out its neck to the west, and floated away beyond guidon hill, and was hid from view. pierre, without a word, began cleaning his rifle, while macavoy smoked, and sat looking into the distance, surveying the sweet warmth and light. his face blossomed with colour, and the look of his eyes was that of an irresponsible child. once or twice he smiled and puffed in his beard, but perhaps that was involuntary, or was, maybe, a vague reflection of his dreams, themselves most vague, for he was only soaking in sun and air and life. within an hour they saw the wild duck-again passing the crest of guidon, and they watched it sailing down to the post, pierre idly fondling the gun, macavoy half roused from his dreams. but presently they were altogether roused, the gun was put away, and both were on their feet; for after the pigeon arrived there was a stir at the post, and hilton could be seen running from the store to his house, not far away. "something's wrong there," said pierre. "d'ye think 'twas the duck brought it?" asked macavoy. without a word pierre started away towards the post, macavoy following. as they did so, a half-breed boy came from the house, hurrying towards them. inside the house hilton's wife lay in her bed, her great hour coming on before the time, because of ill news from beyond the guidon. there was with her an old frenchwoman, who herself, in her time, had brought many children into the world, whose heart brooded tenderly, if uncouthly, over the dumb girl. she it was who had handed to hilton the paper the wild duck had brought, after ida had read it and fallen in a faint on the floor. the message that had felled the young wife was brief and awful. a cloudburst had fallen on champak hill, had torn part of it away, and a part of this part had swept down into the path that led to the little house, having been stopped by some falling trees and a great boulder. it blocked the only way to escape above, and beneath, the river was creeping up to sweep away the little house. so, there the mother and her children waited (the father was in the farthest north), facing death below and above. the wild duck had carried the tale in its terrible simplicity. the last words were, "there mayn't be any help for me and my sweet chicks, but i am still hoping, and you must send a man or many. but send soon, for we are cut off, and the end may come any hour." macavoy and pierre were soon at the post, and knew from hilton all there was to know. at once pierre began to gather men, though what one or many could do none could say. eight white men and three indians watched the wild duck sailing away again from the bedroom window where ida lay, to carry a word of comfort to champak hill. before it went, ida asked for macavoy, and he was brought to her bedroom by hilton. he saw a pale, almost unearthly, yet beautiful face, flushing and paling with a coming agony, looking up at him; and presently two trembling hands made those mystic signs which are the primal language of the soul. hilton interpreted to him this: "i have sent for you. there is no man so big or strong as you in the north. i did not know that i should ever ask you to redeem the note. i want my gift, and i will give you your paper with the queen's head on it. those little lives, those pretty little dears, you will not see them die. if there is a way, any way, you will save them. sometimes one man can do what twenty cannot. you were my wedding-gift: i claim you now." she paused, and then motioned to the nurse, who laid the piece of brown paper in macavoy's hand. he held it for a moment as delicately as if it were a fragile bit of glass, something that his huge fingers might crush by touching. then he reached over and laid it on the bed beside her and said, looking hilton in the eyes, "tell her, the slip av a saint she is, if the breakin' av me bones, or the lettin' av me blood's what'll set all right at champak hill, let her mind be aisy--aw yis!" soon afterwards they were all on their way--all save hilton, whose duty was beside this other danger, for the old nurse said that, "like as not," her life would hang upon the news from champak hill; and if ill came, his place was beside the speechless traveller on the brink. in a few hours the rescuers stood on the top of champak hill, looking down. there stood the little house, as it were, between two dooms. even pierre's face became drawn and pale as he saw what a very few hours or minutes might do. macavoy had spoken no word, had answered no question since they had left the post. there was in his eye the large seriousness, the intentness which might be found in the face of a brave boy, who had not learned fear, and yet saw a vast ditch of danger at which he must leap. there was ever before him the face of the dumb wife; there was in his ears the sound of pain that had followed him from hilton's house out into the brilliant day. the men stood helpless, and looked at each other. they could not say to the river that it must rise no farther, and they could not go to the house, nor let a rope down, and there was the crumbled moiety of the hill which blocked the way to the house: elsewhere it was sheer precipice without trees. there was no corner in these hills that macavoy and pierre did not know, and at last, when despair seemed to settle on the group, macavoy, having spoken a low word to pierre, said: "there's wan way, an' maybe i can an' maybe i can't, but i'm fit to try. i'll go up the river to an aisy p'int a mile above, get in, and drift down to a p'int below there, thin climb up and loose the stuff." every man present knew the double danger: the swift headlong river, and the sudden rush of rocks and stones, which must be loosed on the side of the narrow ravine opposite the little house. macavoy had nothing to say to the head-shakes of the others, and they did not try to dissuade him; for women and children were in the question, and there they were below beside the house, the children gathered round the mother, she waiting-waiting. macavoy, stripped to the waist, and carrying only a hatchet and a coil of rope tied round him, started away alone up the river. the others waited, now and again calling comfort to the woman below, though their words could not be heard. about half an hour passed, and then someone called out: "here he comes!" presently they could see the rough head and the bare shoulders of the giant in the wild churning stream. there was only one point where he could get a hold on the hillside--the jutting bole of a tree just beneath them, and beneath the dyke of rock and trees. it was a great moment. the current swayed him out, but he plunged forward, catching at the bole. his hand seized a small branch. it held him an instant, as he was swung round, then it snapt. but the other hand clenched the bole, and to a loud cheer, which pierre prompted, macavoy drew himself up. after that they could not see him. he alone was studying the situation. he found the key-rock to the dyked slide of earth. to loosen it was to divert the slide away, or partly away, from the little house. but it could not be loosened from above, if at all, and he himself would be in the path of the destroying hill. "aisy, aisy, tim macavoy," he said to himself. "it's the woman and the darlins av her, an' the rose o' the valley down there at the post!" a minute afterwards, having chopped down a hickory sapling, he began to pry at the boulder which held the mass. presently a tree came crashing down, and a small rush of earth followed it, and the hearts of the men above and the woman and children below stood still for an instant. an hour passed as macavoy toiled with a strange careful skill and a superhuman concentration. his body was all shining with sweat, and sweat dripped like water from his forehead. his eyes were on the keyrock and the pile, alert, measuring, intent. at last he paused. he looked round at the hills-down at the river, up at the sky-humanity was shut away from his sight. he was alone. a long hot breath broke from his pressed lips, stirring his big red beard. then he gave a call, a long call that echoed through the hills weirdly and solemnly. it reached the ears of those above like a greeting from an outside world. they answered, "right, macavoy!" years afterwards these men told how then there came in reply one word, ringing roundly through the hills--the note and symbol of a crisis, the fantastic cipher of a soul: "m'guire!" there was a loud booming sound, the dyke was loosed, the ravine split into the swollen stream its choking mouthful of earth and rock; and a minute afterwards the path was clear to the top of champak hill. to it came the unharmed children and their mother, who, from the warm peak sent the wild duck "to the rose o' the valley," which, till the message came, was trembling on the stem of life. but joy, that marvellous healer, kept it blooming with a little eden bird nestling near, whose happy tongue was taught in after years to tell of the gift of the simple king; who had redeemed, on demand, the promissory note for ever. etext editor's bookmarks: a human life he held to be a trifle in the big sum of time fear of one's own wife is the worst fear in the world he never saw an insult unless he intended to avenge it liars all men may be, but that's wid wimmin or landlords men are like dogs--they worship him who beats them she valued what others found useless women are half saints, half fools vol. i january, 1921 no. 4 [illustration: _the beaver_ _a journal of progress_] [illustration: camping out at 40° below _a hudson's bay company's post inspector camping for the night near great slave lake. defying the snows, these hardy men "mush" with dog teams from fort to fort across the vast silent spaces of the great north, keeping h.b.c. communications open and taking account of furs traded at each post of the district._] [illustration: _devoted to the interests of those who serve the hudson's bay company_] bidding for world's fine furs at london auction sales _four weeks' annual selling of pelts draws cosmopolitan crowd of buyers from all quarters of the globe--h.b.c. auction of chief interest._ by j. d. j. forbes (_london fur warehouse_) if a stranger were to ask where the fur quarter in the city of london is situated, perhaps the simplest answer would be to tell him to make for the guildhall, and then to walk due south towards the river thames. he would proceed along king street (which is continued as queen street after cheapside is passed) and in less than five minutes would be at his destination. what the rue d'aboukir is to paris and the bruehl to leipzig, queen street is to london. it stands for the heart and centre of the london fur trade. except for the hudson's bay company's warehouse, which stands apart, all the most important fur merchants and commission houses are located within a stone's throw of the college hill public saleroom--the entrance to which is in queen street--where the world's fur produce is periodically put up for auction. _world's buyers assemble in saleroom_ in the saleroom itself there is little to suggest a fur market; no skins or pelts are to be seen; no samples are displayed to catch the eye of possible buyers; there is no odour of furs or naphthalene. the saleroom reminds one of a large classroom with its rows of desks and forms facing a narrow rostrum whereon the selling broker and his assistants sit. here three times a year assemble fur buyers from all over the world. the typically english features of the brokers contrast strangely with the faces of the cosmopolitan crowd which throngs the saleroom benches; and when in the intervals of selling a buzz of conversation is heard, it seems incredible that one is in the heart of london and not in some levantine port. _selections are made from catalogs_ each buyer brings to the saleroom his catalogues, containing valuations and descriptions of the pelts he has inspected at the various fur warehouses. for the most part, only a very small proportion of the lots catalogued are seen by the prospective buyer; these are "show" lots and represent the bulk, which could not be properly examined in the short time at his disposal. there are usually about twenty catalogues--some of which contain only a few hundred lots but most of which run into thousands of lots--and as the fur collections are distributed amongst a dozen different wharves and warehouses, where the skins are lotted and placed "on show," only a few days before the sales takes place, it will be appreciated that the thorough-going dealer who wishes to acquaint himself with the whole collection of furs on the market has plenty to do! _the order of the sale_ at one time the order of selling was rather haphazard, but in recent years the sale arrangements have been revised and co-ordinated. catalogues are now divided into definite sections, and the entire market supply of furs contained in section 1 of the various catalogues is offered for sale before section 2 is dealt with, and so on--the brokers balloting among themselves for precedence. in accordance with long-established custom, the first goods to be put up for sale are those coming from china and the far east (these auctions are referred to as the "china sales"); next comes the catalogues of australian furs, followed immediately by any offerings there may be of fur seals. _h.b.c. auction premier attraction_ although these auctions occupy the whole of the first sale week, they are of secondary importance when compared with the sales of the choicer north american and siberian furs, which commence on the monday of the second week with the hudson's bay company's sale. needless to say, the company's auction always proves the greatest attraction of the whole series and never fails to draw a crowded room. the company's catalogue is the only one now sold in its entirety without a break, and this for the very good reason that it provides the most reliable basis for comparison of values and enables the experienced buyer to appraise market fluctuations with confidence. the rest of the week following the company's sale is taken up with the disposal of "fine" furs (such as beaver, ermine, foxes, marten, otter and sables) from other catalogues; the third week sees the "staple" lines (such as skunk, opossum, musquash and raccoon) offered for sale; and in the fourth and final week sundry south american and lower grade skins are offered. _the flexible eyebrow an aid in bidding_ the method of bidding at the fur auction is by what is known as the "silent" system. the auctioneer usually starts the bidding himself at a moderate figure and the buyers interested signify their bids by various methods--such as by a nod, or a wink, or even a flick of the pencil; sometimes indeed a buyer will merely look at the auctioneer whilst the bids are being taken and only remove his gaze when his limit has been exceeded. it is often amusing to notice the tactics adopted by two bidders, each of whom wants a particular lot: one may perhaps be seated in the front row and he will perhaps bid by _raising his eyebrows_; the other (seated further back) will not look at the broker at all but will narrowly _watch his rival's hat_ (the movement of which betrays the bidding) whilst he records his own bids by _moving his little finger_! as a rule, bids advance by a definite amount, which varies with the value of the article in question: bids for beaver skins, for example, may start at 50s. and advance by 2s. steps to 100s., beyond which the advance is by 5s. steps; in the case of musquash an advance of 3d or 6d per bid is sufficient. when demand is keen and bidding brisk, buyers frequently discard the silent method, and the broker is assailed with a chorus of "up! up!" from all parts of the room. as it is often difficult in such cases to distinguish between bidders, the possession of a good pair of lungs is a decided advantage for a buyer. _furs sold at "per skin" rate_ most lots are sold "at per skin"--that is to say, when a lot of musquash containing 1600 skins, for instance, is put up, the auctioneer needs to register the price of only one skin--the value of the lot being 1600 times that figure. although sitting for weeks in the saleroom buying sundry lots of skins from this catalogue and that may seem a dull job, yet the buyer with imagination finds the fur trade fascinating. he realizes that the skins he buys have taken months of patient toil and careful handling to assemble from the uttermost parts of the earth. to him, the sale mark "mkr" denotes not merely a particular quality of fur, but suggests the mighty river of the great northwest threading its lonely way from the plains to the arctic sea. it is this sense of the world-wide ramifications of the fur trade, and the knowledge that the company's organization has played, and still plays, a notable part in its development that make one feel proud to belong to the hudson's bay company. an american account of an ancient selkirk settlement caravan the public archives of canada at ottawa contain the following characteristic description of a red river caravan from the old selkirk settlement, as printed in the _wisconsin herald_ of september 15th, 1847: "on the 10th of july, there appeared at the village of st. paul, on the upper mississippi, the most novel and original caravan that has ever appeared since noah's ark was evacuated. our readers are aware that there is an isolated settlement of several thousand inhabitants in a high latitude of british north america, known as the 'selkirk settlement.' cut off from the commerce of the world, they rely entirely upon their own resources, their farms, their flocks and fishing for support--being a community, so to speak, of robinson crusoes. their crops having failed the last two seasons, they have been forced to break out of the wilds again and seek food in the markets of the great brawling world. formerly their chief point of contact with commerce was toronto; but now, owing to the increase of supplies on the upper mississippi, and the abundance of game and forage on that route, they trade at st. paul, and the head of steamboat navigation on the mississippi river. "into st. paul they came, on the 10th of july, a caravan of one hundred and twenty carts, in a single file, wearily moving along by moonlight. long after the head of the caravan had reached the village, the lengthened train of followers could be seen moving over the undulating prairie, partly visible and partly hidden between the billowy ridges of the extended plain, crawling onward like some huge serpent, the extreme rear still invisible and partly hidden in the dimness of the distance. they had travelled southward over the prairie six hundred miles, having been nineteen days on their way, through a region abounding in buffaloes--encamping at night in a tent, around which the carts were drawn in a circle, to fence in the cattle.... they brought along a large elk, a bear, and some other animals they had captured on their way--and many packages of furs. they had a very choice lot of buffalo robes, well dressed, which they sold at st. paul by the lot at $3.50 each. "they had with them also an abundance of specie, and waited a few days at st. paul for the arrival of a steamboat load of flour and groceries. the caravan was made up of men and boys of all ages, kindreds, tongues and complexions.... their dresses were as various as could be imagined, being uniform in only a single article of apparel--all wore moccasins. the carts were made wholly of wood and hides, the hubs being covered with bandages of green hide, drawn on while soft and then shrinking until they became nearly as tight as bands of iron. some of these odd two-wheeled vehicles were drawn by little horses, and others by oxen, each animal--horse or ox--being geared in a harness of green hide. they are now again on their way back to the frozen wilds of the north, many of them probably never again to commune with the great world." how smith's landing became fitzgerald _heroic sacrifice of r.n.w.m.p. officer led to his name being given to h.b.c. landing_ fitzgerald, originally known as smith's landing, is at the end of the athabasca river navigation, approximately three hundred miles below mcmurray. it is an important point in the transportation system, as cargoes are there discharged and portaged sixteen miles to fort smith, where they are loaded into other steamers navigating the mackenzie river. in 1910, a commissioned officer of the mounted police named fitzgerald, along with three members of the force, left fort mcpherson for dawson. the party encountered severe storms, and lost their way in the mountain passes. after wandering for several weeks, they decided to return, but owing to lack of food and inability to procure game of any kind they suffered great privation. finally, they were obliged to kill their dogs for food. one of the members of the party died and the position of the survivors was desperate, as two of the remaining members were unable to proceed. fitzgerald left these men with all the clothing and whatever else they had that might benefit them and continued _alone_ in an endeavor to get back to fort mcpherson and bring help. on reaching a point about twelve miles of the post--which was then actually in sight--he was too exhausted to travel further and was frozen to death. meanwhile, the non-arrival of this patrol in dawson caused the mounted police to send out a search party from that end on the assumption that fitzgerald's party might have been held up nearby, but the search party had to continue within this short distance of mcpherson before finding the evidence of the tragedy. fitzgerald was held in high regard by all the people in the northwest territory in which he served and application was made to the authorities at ottawa to change the name of smith's landing to fort fitzgerald to commemorate his worthy but unfortunately unsuccessful effort to secure relief for his party. "uplands," the ancient h.b.c. farm on vancouver island _onetime natural park and grazing ground now being subdivided at victoria_ by c. h. french, _district manager for b.c._ when victoria was established by the hudson's bay company in 1843 all that tract of land between cadboro bay and the willows was a park, being studded here and there with beautiful oak trees and plentifully supplied with grass in which the elk loved to scamper about. _farm required to support post_ at all hudson's bay company's forts, the self-supporting feature was always given first consideration. at victoria it was not only necessary to raise sufficient grain, butter and beef to support the fort, but also sufficient to supply russian america, or alaska as we now know it. uplands was one of the first farms established to gain those ends. the farm buildings were always just where they now are, but the road leading to them was different, in that where it now takes a bend where the golf links association put up their sign, it continued straight through the cultivated fields to the farm buildings. an examination will show the trees and rocks still marking this road. _riding to uplands for the view_ the officers at the fort had saddle horses and it was to the uplands they went when desiring a ride on horseback. many officers of her majesty's ships immediately on landing made arrangements for a horseback ride to this wonderful piece of country. it has an elevation--without seeming to climb--sufficient to present perhaps the finest marine view to be found anywhere. the view was obtainable from almost any part of the thousand acres contained in the farm. the handsome oak and maple trees were just sufficiently scattered not to obstruct the view of the olympic mountains to the south; san juan and other islands to the east and southeast, which were overlooked by glorious mount baker, always standing out as if a sentinel clothed in white, guarding a country so rich in minerals, lumber and fish that its equal has yet to be discovered. looking north, towards james and salt spring islands, one is almost speechless with admiration of the beauty that is stretched before the eye. _indian villages are at strategic points_ indian villages were in earlier times established only at points where the food supply was abundant, but in this particular instance the village was established for strategic reasons. there were two points occupied by indians; one toward the northern side of the bay, where the present cadboro bay hotel is to-day located, and the other just inside the point, east of the present yacht clubhouse. those living on the north side of the bay were the custodians of a portage from telegraph bay to cadboro bay, while the indians on the south side of the bay were the real defenders of the tribe as a portage from there to rock bay had to be blocked to all enemies as it was to this point that retreats were made and where also was stored their winter supply of food. _the songhees had a magic spring_ the songhees on the southeast end of vancouver island had, i believe, the most strategic situation of any tribe on the coast. from their central village at concordance arm the all-important route was by cadboro bay, principally because the great spring that was regarded by them as possessing certain medicinal qualities was located at that point. this spring was surrounded by willows and was so carefully camouflaged that one could hardly find it, excepting that the ground from the spring to the waterfront was more or less wet. in the improving of uplands, this spring was drained in some way and, i am told, does not show on the surface now, but probably is diverted to the sea beach. hoot mon! th' roarin' game is on wi' lads o' the h.b.c. _land, retail and wholesale departments at winnipeg get away to fast start--some already displaying mid season form_ by out turn at winnipeg, the respective curling associations of the land department, retail store and wholesale depot are making up for lost time, the season having started late. extent of the enthusiasm displayed in the company's winnipeg establishments for the grand old game is indicated by the hundred and ten yelling, sweeping adherents who turn out once and twice a week. ice has been good and the weather just cold enough to induce lively work behind every skip. it is to be noted that more rocks are getting across the "hog" than the first part of last season. [illustration: "_meet me face to face_"] if ice holds after present schedules are completed, it is planned to bring the victorious rinks together in an h.b.c. "bon spiel" for a decision on the company curling championship for winnipeg. [illustration: "_draw weight, we'll sweep it!_"] sketched are two well-known "skips" heading land department rinks and one "skip" who cuts a lot of ice in wholesale circles. our staff artist caught him as he was shooting his first rock of the season, using the follow-through system. he is usually more dignified than as portrayed (on next page) and the editor remarks a terrific shift of latitude here as this arctic "skip" was but lately a strutting toreador. the two land department "skips" pictured on this page wear no disguise and need no introduction but we'll give a made beaver to anyone who'll guess their identity. it is of course too early to make predictions as to probable winners in the various departmental associations. we cannot get any sort of a prognostication from our usually very opinionated sporting editor. for next issue, he promises to analyze the performance of the leading rinks and tell messrs. harman, vesey and sparling exactly what their respective chances are. on the following page is the standing of the rinks as at 10th january: [illustration: _wholesale boys! "do you know him?"_ --!!! _sweep her-up--she'll never reach_] h.b.c. curling associations. winnipeg, 1921 _land department_ ------------------------------------ |games | | | skip |played|won|lost|standing ------------+------+---+----+------- harman | 4 | 3 | 1 | .750 mcdill | 4 | 2 | 2 | .500 bellingham | 4 | 1 | 2 | .250 joslyn | 4 | 1 | 2 | .250 ------------------------------------_retail store_ ------------------------------------ macgregor | 2 | 2 | 0 | 1.000 mills | 1 | 1 | 0 | 1.000 scott | 2 | 2 | 0 | 1.000 pearen | 1 | 1 | 0 | 1.000 parker | 2 | 1 | 1 | .500 healy | 2 | 1 | 1 | .500 tait | 2 | 1 | 1 | .500 sidey | 2 | 1 | 1 | .500 sparling | 2 | 0 | 2 | .000 ogston | 1 | 0 | 1 | .000 pugsley | 2 | 0 | 2 | .000 bowdler | 1 | 0 | 1 | .000 ------------------------------------_wholesale depot_ ------------------------------------ swan | 2 | 2 | 0 | 1.000 a. thompson | 2 | 2 | 0 | 1.000 iveson | 1 | 1 | 0 | 1.000 veysey | 3 | 2 | 1 | .666 poitras | 3 | 2 | 1 | .666 phelan | 2 | 1 | 1 | .500 brock | 3 | 1 | 2 | .333 o. thompson | 2 | 0 | 2 | .000 mcmicken | 2 | 0 | 2 | .000 ross | 2 | 0 | 2 | .000 _how many "advertisers" has h.b.c.?_ by mrs. jack hawkshaw some one will answer, "there's one ad-man in winnipeg, one in edmonton, one in calgary, one in yorkton, one each in lethbridge, nelson, vernon, kamloops and vancouver." if that is all, then i am afraid it's time to be up and doing. each employee in the company's service should be "on the advertising staff," _to promote good feeling and optimism_. think what a great thing it would be right now at the beginning of a new year and on the threshold of a new season, if the company's thousands of employees took a leading part in the advertising of the company's stores. _tree 95 years old bears apples_ _vancouver, washington, dec. 18th (special)_--two apples grown on the famous old apple tree in vancouver barracks were picked to-day by a. a. quarnberg. this apple tree is the oldest in pacific northwest, if not the united states, having been planted in 1826 by bruce, the gardener for the hudson's bay trading company. this makes the apple tree more than ninety-five years old. the seeds were brought around the horn in a sailing-vessel by an hudson's bay trading company official who carried them in a waistcoat pocket. the tailor was cleaning out the pockets and found these apple seeds and he gave them to the gardener who planted them. many trees were raised. all have died except one. _more than 100 benefits paid in 1920_ the hudson's bay employees' welfare association at winnipeg retail continues to flourish despite the many demands made on the "exchequer" during the past twelve months. upwards of one hundred individual employees have received benefits during 1920 and the secretary, p. harrison, reports that the balance in hand at present is larger than at any time since the inception of the plan. c. h. french has long experience in h.b.c. fur trade _british columbia district manager entered service in lake winnipeg district, 1887; sent to new caledonia on important mission in 1894_ by f. s. garner [illustration: _mr. french in the b.c. district office_] c. h. french, district manager of the company's british columbia fur trade district, is a man whose experience in the service during 33 years, from lake winnipeg to the pacific coast and north to alaska, has excellently fitted him to narrate countless stories of brave adventure and stern duty under the h.b.c. flag in the great northwest. mr. french, though 53, carries his years lightly. true, his hair is grizzled; upon his face is delineated the tale of dangers met and hardships overcome. yet one would not place his age at over 45, if even that. seasoned as an oak, with hard and healthful living in a climate which eliminates all but the fittest, mr. french, now in lovely victoria, may know at least a measure of the relaxation and joy of living such as is seldom granted the fur trader. the "spring" in his step and the active interest he takes in the life and development of vancouver island identify in him a youthful spirit which well might be envied by many men under thirty. mr. french was born in markham township, twelve miles north of toronto, ontario, on 23rd july, 1867. he served a full apprenticeship at printing. then he acquired a fair knowledge of bread-baking, fishing and sailing, which experience he says stood him in good stead after entering the service. in 1887 mr. french joined h.b.c. in the lake winnipeg district, doing work of various kinds, one job being the sailing of the boat "beaver" under mr. w. j. mclean at lower fort garry, and afterwards mr. flett at fort alexander. during this period he brought the body of chief factor belanger in from the lake and delivered it at the selkirk roman catholic church. the chief factor was drowned at norway house. fur trade commissioner wrigley went out of office and while his successor, mr. c. c. chipman, was commissioner, he had the able support of such men as william clark. it was with william clark that mr. french engaged to go to new caledonia district, british columbia (march, 1894) to break up a ring that was pilfering merchandise from the babine, b.c., warehouse. this was successfully accomplished, and mr. french was given charge of babine post, remaining there until 1901, when installed as fur buyer at victoria, under mr. james thomson. he was in charge of that work until february, 1914, when he was made district manager for british columbia. send it in if you have a bit of news, send it in. or a joke that will amuse, send it in. a story that is true, an incident that's new, "we want to hear from you," send it in. never mind about your style, if it's only worth the while, send it in. will it make a paragraph? send it in. if some good your words can teach, if some distant reader reach, if you have a glowing speech, send it in. miss d. l. bens, _winnipeg retail_ how the eskimo hunts the musk-ox _description of eskimo's method of hunting musk-oxen in the arctic regions as given by capt. french, r.n.w.m.p., one of the patrol who went north to investigate the killing of messrs. bradbury and street, sent out by smithsonian institute and national museum at ottawa._ the eskimo, sighting a small band of musk-oxen--usually a bull, cow and one or two calves--lets loose two or three husky dogs (part dog and part wolf) which encircle the animals. the bull and cow turn their heads towards the dogs, with the calf or calves in the centre, and prepare to give fight. once the oxen are "anchored," the eskimos turn loose all their dogs which serve to keep the oxen "anchored" instead of taking to their heels, and proceed themselves with bow and arrows and dispatch the animals. [illustration] these musk-oxen are very fierce and warlike animals, hence the necessity of the eskimo protecting himself with dogs. in the case of a wounded bull charging an eskimo, the dogs immediately rush to attack it and withdraw its attention from the eskimo who may thereby find time to string another arrow to his bow and then dispatch it.--_w.e.a._ [illustration: holding the musk-oxen at bay] _there'll be no more slacker contributors if they all read this_ _barriere post, ontario, editor, the "beaver," winnipeg._ _it is, i think, the duty of all of your readers to wish the beaver a very happy new year._ _you cannot realize what the magazine means to us who live in the silent places far removed from social intercourse with our fellow creatures._ _we who have access to such little reading material to interest us in our lonely lives will look forward eagerly to the arrival of the beaver._ _and i can assure you that i wish it every success in the years to come, and i trust that all the readers will recognize the fact that it is their bounden duty to contribute either in writing or photographs from time to time._ _i think that it is not to our commissioner alone that we should look for guidance nor to our district managers, but to our friendly intercourse one with another, which can only be accomplished through the medium of the beaver and i sincerely trust that this friendly intercourse will grow stronger and stronger as the years roll by, and so help to strengthen and firmly cement together the bonds of good fellowship._ _i have the honor to be, sir, yours obediently, (signed) ashton alston, post manager._ _issued every now and then in the interests of those in the service of the hudson's bay company_ [illustration] the beaver "_a journal of progress_" copyright, 1921, by the hudson's bay company address all communications to editor, "the beaver," york and main streets, winnipeg, canada vol. i january, 1921 no. 4 fortunate canada! the big war is all over but the paying. a whole "bale" of little wars, however, have been engaging the attention of the world until recent settlements were effected. famine in china. russian chaos and irish thunderclouds. inoculation against the "bolshevik bug" in every quarter of the globe. fortunate canada! industrial depression, unemployment and foreboding grips the united states. canada has had a tinge of this malady, too, during price convulsions--but canada is sound. canada--especially western canada--is busy, optimistic and possessed of a confidence unbounded. a happier or more prosperous christmas and new year's that just past in canada, never has been. for twelve months ending october, 1920, canada's volume of trade was _up five hundred million dollars_ over the year previous. canada is fortunate. to the sweet uses of peace, she is applying herself assiduously. the yankee balloonists the beaver refrains from elaborating upon current newspaper reports about the u.s. navy balloonists who drifted from new york city to moose factory and were rescued by h.b.c. men at james bay--until the report of our associate editor at moose factory and his photographs have been received. it is expected these will come out to mattice by next packet, and _the beaver_ will then be able to give authentic details. ambition ambitious men raise themselves like the tallest trees high above the shrub growth of somnolent spirits and so are "most in the power of the winds of fortune." your chance for success is not lacking as long as the spark of ambition is alive within you. with some men, ambition dies between thirty and forty; with others it remains unquenched. some men have made fortunes and lost them at forty-five, then have turned in and made other fortunes before retiring. scores of great successes have been recorded after the age of fifty; cases where ambition, the "divine discontent," was never downed. without ambition, the fire under the boilers of industry would die and the pop-valves of commerce would cease to reveal live power that drives the pistons of progress. a martian at the rink picture a man from mars, just descended, as he steps into an h.b.c. curling rink during the ninth "end"--when scottish excitement is at its hottest. try to comprehend his bewilderment as he hears frenzied shouts of "_sweep, sweep, sweep 'er up! get it across the hog!_" and again--"_out turn, mac; draw-weight and a wick off this one. just come to it!_" and sweatered, mufflered figures contort themselves in fantastic fox-trots on the ice as they swing mad brooms in the van of the skidding stones. the grey rocks curl and thump--or twist uncannily to a berth behind guardian stones. "_we lie_," bursts in raucous chorus from steaming throats. "a marvelous confession thinks the man from mars." the roarin' game of cur-r-r-lin' is in full fling at many of the company's branches. young and old all become _younger_ in a fast and furious "draw." buy a broom and a pair of "galoshes" and get on the ice. forget business, bid dull care begone. curl ten "ends" and then you'll say "where's that pack of worries that was hounding me this afternoon?" egotism the large proportion of the human race which is afflicted with "self importance" can draw pointed conclusion from the facts that: (1) michelson the scientist has discovered an accurate method of measuring the distant stars, by which it is determined that one star in orion is _twenty-seven trillion times as large as the earth_, and twenty-seven million times as large as the sun. (it's no use trying to visualize this tremendous planet. even a _billion_ is incomprehensible to the human mind; a _trillion_ simply cannot be embraced in our thought.) (2) latest available figures indicate that there are about _two billion people living on the earth_, despite the slaughter of war. we are somewhere in that crowd. if we ever feel ourselves getting "chesty in the head," let us repress even the faintest stirrings of egotism, for we're only one in two billion (never would be missed!) riding to an unticketed destination on a "pin-point planet" that swirls every day a million miles nearer to that gigantic sun, _alpha orionus_ (see it any clear night in the heavens) which is so tremendous in dimension that our poor little earth at the instant of contact would sputter out like a tiny drop of grease on a big stove. our reporters the beaver should be _all-seeing, all-knowing_--as far as h.b.c. events are concerned. if a single incident which affects the company or its employees escapes being reported to this journal, we are not fulfilling our mission. if any other publication tells of an h.b.c. event or reports any h.b.c. employees' activities which do not reach _the beaver_--_then we're_ "_scooped_," in the parlance of the press. you faithful readers of _the beaver_ who daily are giving your time and thought to h.b.c. affairs--_you_ are the eyes and ears of this journal. we have a good many "live-wire" reporters, but need more. let every member of staff take a personal interest in forwarding to _the beaver_ intelligence of every description that might interest h.b.c. people. the wanderers the lure of exploration has not lost its power since the two main prizes--both poles--were achieved. recently it was announced that a considerable number of new expeditions would set out in 1921 to various remote quarters of the globe--one to baffins land, one to the north of siberia, one to central africa and so on down the list. amundsen is now trying to drift across the north pole. the challenge of discovery ever has greater power than strong drink to inflame the blood of daring men, particularly of the british and scandinavian races. they will never tire until the last "back-lot" of the earth has been carefully scanned, mapped and staked for science and civilization. reputation a man may live a lifetime of virtue and honesty; then by one false step destroy the delicate structure of reputation which he has so painstakingly constructed. the _good name_ of h.b.c. has taken two hundred and fifty years to build. yet _one year's departure_ from h.b.c. ideals and h.b.c. standards would serve to corrode the foundations underlying this priceless reputation. when acting or speaking in the name of the company, employees who appreciate the insecurity of reputation _think twice before saying or doing anything_ that might be adjudged _un-hudson's bay_. the prize contest "how i earned my first dollar" contest is stirring up much interest among "old timers" in the ranks. first letters are beginning to come in. please do not delay in sending the facts about your early start. two hundred words are enough to give the main details--and are soon written. _some people in the east and the west are whimpering and whining!_ pessimistic over the outlook for spring business. some people think the bottom has fallen out of things, when the fact is things are as good as ever they were. only that with the getting back into the condition that prevailed before the war prices are falling, and many people have contracted a fever which was very prevalent in the states a short time ago called pessimania. _we've got to do our part to create a spirit of optimism_, for if we all join the army of pessimists, it's going to be bad for ourselves, bad for the company, and bad for the country too. _besides, we have every reason to be optimistic and here are the reasons_--first, there is the good news of lower prices on nearly all kinds of goods, and people who have been doing without can now buy freely again. second, the government has abolished the undesirable luxury tax. encourage your customers and friends to buy now, for prices cannot jump down below what they are now for the spring, and the more they buy the more it will add prosperity to the country. no country's prosperity was ever built up on fear, but faith. the low prices are here now. people have money for necessities and we must do our part by talking and thinking hopefully for the coming spring. that's it! have you ever stopped to think of the wonderful power of thought. like the pebble dropped in the lake, ever widening in circles, your tiny thought of hopefulness and helpfulness will have an ever-widening effect. every word that you say with belief behind it stimulates other people to be optimistic, and so your influence increases. this is what makes _power_. every added sale that we make will not only increase our own record but it will add its quota to the prosperity of canada. let everybody think good times, talk good times, and buy for good times' sake, then the ranks of the unemployed will melt before the sunshine of prosperity! won't we make a resolution to start being _peptimists_ to-day?--_f. s. garner._ mottoe for ye newe yeare _modernized by a. seymour h.b.c. post, d-14_ there arre noe byrdes in nexte yeare's neste. in nexte yeare's creame there arre no flyes. noe vaine regrettes disturb my breaste for aught yt in ye futurre lyes ande laste yeare's flyes ande laste yeare's byrdes arre paste ye reache of tearres ande wordes. ? ? ? ? --chaucer. start the new year well by joining the vast and ever increasing multitude of those who find in life insurance the one sure way of protecting dependent ones--while making timely provision for their own future at the same time. join the ever increasing number who have found, in the policies of the great-west life assurance company, all that can be desired in profitable life insurance. thus you will obtain protection at low cost, and will secure a share in the remarkable profits that are being paid to policyholders of the great-west life assurance company dept. "d. 30" head office: winnipeg c. w. veysey always pushed the work--never let it push him _general manager of winnipeg wholesale developed himself so consistently with h. b. c. at vancouver that he was called to fill a big man's shoes_ by a. brock, _associate editor_ the career of mr. c. w. veysey, manager h.b.c. wholesale, winnipeg, furnishes an excellent example of the company's appreciation of, and reward for, faithful service and ability to apply one's business acumen in the company's interests. [illustration: c. w. veysey, esq. _general manager, wholesale department_] _a nova scotian who early came west_ born in the little town of north sidney, nova scotia, of english parentage, mr. veysey was privileged to spend the first years of his life in that country and community which produced so many of the leading business men now in the west. when he was thirteen his parents decided to move to british columbia. they arrived in vancouver in october, 1888. a few years spent at the west end and central schools, vancouver, brought mr. veysey to that stage where he decided that it was about time he was learning to paddle his own canoe. _began business life in b.c. refinery_ the b.c. sugar refinery was the scene of his first labors, given in exchange for what at that time seemed the magnificent remuneration of $12 per month, with the promised reward of an increase to $15 in three months, providing the service he rendered was satisfactory to his employer. it is interesting to recall that the company's present general manager at vancouver, mr. h. t. lockyer, was at that time also connected with the b.c. refinery in the capacity of accountant; and mr. veysey was fortunate in forming a friendship in those days which later proved to be a source of great help when the experience and assistance of an "older head" were needed to straighten out, ofttimes, the rough business road he had to travel. _joined h.b.c. service in 1896_ a period of five years, however, completed mr. veysey's connection with the refinery. during this time mr. lockyer had entered the h.b.c. service as accountant and perhaps in view of the association begun at the refinery it was not strange that an opportunity should shortly present itself enabling mr. veysey also to join the company's service. on 1st november, 1896, he commenced his duties in the vancouver office. mr. e. j. cuchinay was the company's accountant at vancouver at that time, but on account of ill health was being transferred to one of the company's steamers as purser. consequently, his position at vancouver had to be filled. _mr. lockyer got him a new job_ feeling, as shakespeare says, that there is a "tide in the affairs of men," mr. veysey decided to approach mr. lockyer (who by this time had attained the position of general manager) and ascertain if he could not be allowed to show his ability for the position. mr. lockyer informed him that _he had already wired_ commissioner chipman, recommending his appointment and showed him the wire. mr. veysey experienced anxious days while awaiting the reply from winnipeg; but eventually word was received approving the appointment. _mr. lockyer gave him lesson in self-reliance_ perhaps a little incident that occurred soon after mr. veysey's appointment will be appreciated by a great many of the present aspiring accountants of the company. the time of the month had arrived when the famous "form 20" had to be compiled and with the help of mr. lockyer this task was successfully accomplished. the next month, however, the young accountant found not a little difficulty in completing this form unassisted. he thought of mr. lockyer's kindly assistance the previous month and again approached the general manager for help; but much to mr. veysey's surprise, he was met with the reply, "why, charlie, i showed you how to do that last month. go back and do it." and back he went, and what is more important, _he did it_. mr. veysey often remarks that that was one of the best turns mr. lockyer ever did him. _handled big business during yukon rush_ mr. veysey has many pleasant reminiscences of the days of the yukon rush and what it meant to vancouver. h.b.c. business was so great at that time that it meant working every night until midnight for five months. mr. lockyer will also remember this strenuous time, as he bore his share with the rest. midnight would often come and find him still on the job. _promoted to assistant managership_ promotion again was the order of the day, and mr. veysey was made assistant general manager at vancouver. in 1908, however, he was approached by messrs. kelly douglas and company to join their firm as credit office manager, which position he filled until 1913, when he was asked by the hudson's bay company to go to winnipeg in the capacity of general manager of the depot and wholesale branch, which had been rendered vacant by the death of that valued servant of the company, mr. g. w. cochrane. _became wholesale general manager_ mr. veysey arrived in winnipeg in july, 1913, and immediately applied himself diligently to the task of building up a wholesale business which should be second to none in the west. it was by no means an easy task, but perseverance eventually prevailed and h.b.c. winnipeg wholesale has registered great gains. since mr. veysey's appointment at winnipeg, wholesale branches of the company have been established at saskatoon and regina, saskatchewan, under his management. the h.b.c. candy factory, at winnipeg, owes its inception to his efforts for expansion of the company's business. _serves fur trade and stores efficiently_ one of his greatest ambitions has been to operate the depot so efficiently that the service given both to the fur trade posts and retail stores would be as near perfect as it was possible to make it. the company's many district managers and store managers all over canada acknowledge and appreciate the efforts which have been put forward in this direction by mr. veysey's organization. amongst the staff it may be said without fear of contradiction no man could be held in higher esteem than mr. veysey. exacting, but human, he is and always ready to lend a helping hand. having climbed up from the foot of the ladder himself he believes in employees' earning every step of their advancement, but he is always prepared to recognize and reward merit where demonstrated. _mr. veysey always active in sports_ in the world of sport, mr. veysey is an ardent devotee of the ancient and honourable game of golf, and many predict that some day the burbidge cup will be seen reposing in his office. mr. veysey also takes a wholesome interest in curling. his enthusiasm and ability as a "skip" usually helps place his rink "on top of the league" at the wholesale. rupert's house notes _staff changes_ j. s. c. watt, late in charge of fort chimi, succeeds mr. a. nicolson, retired. r. j. sherlaw, late in charge of mistassinny post, to charge of rupert's house post. a. brebner, of aberdeen, scotland, apprentice clerk. _mistassinny post_ f. mcleod, late clerk at albany post, succeeds r. j. sherlaw in charge of mistassinny post. _woswanaby post_ h. hawkins, late clerk at rupert's house, succeeds d. m. stuart, in charge of woswanaby post. mr. stuart left on board the s.s. "nascopie," for a holiday in england. buffalo river post news we have had considerable sickness among the people of this district but are glad to say that only a few are now incapacitated. a considerable number died during last summer. mr. j. m. cumines, manager of h.b.c. buffalo river, recently made a very pleasant trip to toronto, to visit his mother, who was ill. lamson hubbard canadian fur company have opened their new store at buffalo river. (_but h.b.c. is still here doing business._) b.c. district office news mr. and mrs. c. h. french= received congratulations on the birth of a fine daughter on december 1st. mr. f. b. wombwell=, b.c. district accountant, returned from a visit to mayo brothers, rochester, minn. during the past month the h.b.c. victoria office has had the pleasure of visits from: _captain evan j. edwards, of montreal, h.m. senior trade commissioner in canada and newfoundland; mr. l. b. beale, of winnipeg, his majesty's trade commissioner, department of overseas trade, london; captain louis knaflich, of the kuskokwim fishing and transportation company, from whom the hudson's bay company chartered the "ruby" for western arctic district; captain j. bernard._ _requires long trip to inspect b.c. posts_ to those of our readers who are "city folk" or whose travel is limited, the following might prove interesting: to make an inspection trip to the hudson's bay company's posts in british columbia district alone a distance of 3758 miles must be covered as follows: _404 miles by trails._ _974 miles by rivers._ _56 miles by lake._ _80 miles by automobile._ _976 miles by railroad._ _1268 miles by steamboat._ a seaplane visits moose factory august 27, 1920, will be well remembered by the natives of moose island, as it marks the arrival of the first air machine to any h.b.c. post in james bay district. a high-pitched, droning noise heralded the approach of the machine; and soon the 'plane came into view, flying at an altitude of about three thousand feet. a fine sight it was to see the great bird coming nearer, suddenly "bank," and, with a great flash of silver, as the sun's rays glinted on the tilted planes, it nose-dived and planed down to the "landing" stretch of water, which had been previously marked with a buoy and red flag. this channel of deep water runs between moose island and a smaller island, the river at this point being of delta formation. meanwhile the inhabitants and the company's staff had gathered on the bank, the latter all armed with cameras. a canoe shot out from the river side and the airmen were soon exchanging greetings with us. the seaplane to the indians was a matter of great mystery and for long bands of them stood gazing at the craft which the white men had handled so dexterously. during their subsequent trips to their base near cochrane they very kindly carried our outward mails. the object of the seaplane's journey was the recording by motion pictures the life and customs of the inhabitants of northern canada.--_g.f._ famous trips by h.b.c. dog teams 107 miles from dawn to dark by h. m. s. cotter, _cumberland house_ in the year 1896 i was in charge of h.b.c. northwest river post on the labrador. it was customary for the post managers to assemble annually at district headquarters which at that time was located at rigolet on the coast. this council was usually held in april on a specified date. rigolet is ninety-two miles from northwest river by the winter trail. the trip occupies two days as a rule, and when we left the post it was the intention as usual _to run the first fifty miles and camp_ for the night at a place named the lowlands. [illustration: _the feet of the dogs are protected by deerskin moccasins from laceration on sharp edges of the ice_] we had the ordinary length of sled or "komatik," which is about twelve feet long and weighs about a hundred pounds. we carried a load of about six hundred pounds, which in that part of the country is considered light. we left the post at 4.30 a.m. april 7th, 1896, just before dawn. the sky was somewhat overcast and a light wind was blowing from southwest. the travelling was good, particularly in the early morning, as the melted snow of the previous day had dried up during the night. our nine dogs were in the very pink of condition. they displayed a fierce eagerness to reach the sealing grounds, nine miles below the post. "lieutenant" was the leader's name, and second leader, "friday." both these dogs were famous as seal hunters. there was "nothing on four legs," it was claimed, ever approached them either in respect of speed or ability to scent seals at long distance. after we reached the sealing grounds the team broke into a mad pace. no sooner had they run down one batch of seals than the leaders would scent others long before they were visible. in this way the speed of the whole team was maintained at a high rate. as the local saying was, the dogs were "seal mad" and getting out of hand. i had been over these sealing grounds many times, but never had seen so many seals as on this day. around the seal or blowing holes they were not in large numbers, but along the cracks which opened across the bay and ran for fifteen or twenty miles, the seals were literally in thousands. it was good sport chasing them. we stopped several times and speared four, adding about three hundred pounds to our load. but this seemed to make no difference in the speed of the dogs. finally we got into the lowlands just before noon, having covered fully sixty-five miles of our journey. as it was yet early and the dogs appeared fresh as when they started, we decided after having a light lunch, to go on to the next stopping place seventeen miles below. the going was excellent and we did the first twelve miles in ninety minutes; but coming to rough and hummocky ice we had to bear in towards the shore to get around it. the wind had swept the rocks clean of snow. just as we got on land some caribou appeared across our course immediately ahead. well, talk about dogs moving! their former speed seemed slow in comparison. they raced over the naked rocks like wolves. i remember looking behind and seeing a stream of fire flying from the steel shoeing of the sledge like a shower of sparks from a high-speed emery wheel. the caribou moved off into the valley and we had a tough job to get the team onto the ice again. here we came in sight of more seals. off we went again from our course and past the stopping place we had planned; so we decided to go right on to our destination. _we arrived at rigolet before 8 p.m._ the post managers came out and greeted us warmly, remarking however that we had made slow time, arriving so late in the evening. _they thought we had left the previous day._ when i announced that we had left only that morning they said "like ---you did." we had lost two hours, but in the fourteen and a half hours we had been actually travelling we had covered a hundred and seven miles. i am not claiming this is a record, but it is one of the fastest trips ever made by an h.b.c. dog team with full load. _editor's note--mr. james fraser, who later became h.b.c. district manager in esquimaux bay, made the trip from rigolet to northwest river in one day on a previous occasion, but as he lost a twenty-eight pound keg of white lead on the way up much of the glory vanished. the foregoing is the first of a series of authentic stories which the beaver plans to carry in a regular department which may be styled the "dog column"--just plain dog. men of the hudson's bay: bestir your "recollection equipment" and let us know if you have a better dog story than mr. cotter's. particularly are we expecting to hear from j. j. g. rosser, of isle a la crosse, and ashton alston, of barriere, both famous "dog skinners."_ little journeys to the haunts of canada's fur-bearing animals i. the beaver (_continued from last issue_) they have their young during june. when one year old they have two or three only, the next year as many as six, but in after years the average number is four. the young stay with their parents for two years and in the third year they leave and make a home or mate with others who are making homes for themselves. under the old unwritten laws of the indians, a trap must not be set closer than two hundred yards from a house, because the young beaver never go that far away from home, therefore only the two years and older ones would be caught. _method of drowning beaver_ owing to their custom of immediately using their teeth on anything that interferes with their liberty, a trap must be set in such a way that the animal drowns or he will in a very few seconds cut his imprisoned foot off close to the shoulder. the system of drowning is as simple as it is effective. every trap chain has a ring on the end of it and is usually set on the edge of fairly deep water with the chain ring over a stick that has about half an inch of each branch left on, and has been shoved in the mud out in deep water. the first thing the beaver does when caught is to spring out into the water, taking of course train and trap with him, and the ring easily and naturally slips down the pole and when it reached the bottom immediately checks the flight of the beaver and does not allow him to even come to the surface again. consequently, he is drowned in a very few moments. ordinarily he can stay under water for about ten minutes, but when excited and fighting as he would do when caught, will drown quickly. _beaver tail useful implement_ the beaver uses its tail to steer with while swimming and to carry the mud necessary to construct his house. he will scratch a little pile of earth up with his fore paws, then turn around and scoop his tail under the loose mud, holding it stiff and straight out behind on the level of the water while he swims off to where building operations are going on. [illustration: _two fine, fat, 35 pound beaver_] _how the beaver stores food_ the beaver's winter store of food is not put too close to the house, but usually a considerable distance off; sometimes in deep water in the middle of a pond or under a bank where the water is too deep to freeze to the bottom. sticks of cottonwood, cut as large as can conveniently be handled, are pulled or even carried on their shoulders while they walk in an upright position to the water, then floated to the spot selected. these sticks are not shoved into the mud as has often been stated, but are piled up or built up just as we would build a raft--the first layer lying one way, and the second layer crossways on top, each layer having all crevices filled up with mud until the larder is sufficient for his winter's needs, and is weighed down level with the top of the water. when he starts to draw from this store, he pulls a stick out from the bottom and takes it off to his tunnel leading to the bank close by his house where meals are served. _easy to approach beaver from windward side_ animals usually can detect the approach of danger if it comes from the windward side. the beaver is not an exception, but one can be within a few feet of them when the wind is blowing in the opposite direction, and they fail to get the scent. for example, an indian wanted a beaver to eat and as just before camping for the night he had passed some cuttings only a little way back on the trail, he decided to go back after dark and see what luck there was for him. he was careful to approach the workings from the windward side and after listening attentively he could hear a beaver cutting trees up on the hill side above him. he selected a sheltered spot in some brush on the windward side of the slide or the road that was used by the beaver to skid down the cut wood. presently along came the animal, struggling with a large piece of cottonwood. the indian waited until after the beaver had passed him, then reached out and caught the stick, holding it firmly, and as soon as the beaver was satisfied that it was caught it walked back with the intention of cutting it loose only to get hit on the head with a stick and killed by the indian. _the beaver a castorum factory_ both male and female have a pair of glands lying lengthways on the inside of the skin at the lower extremities, which does not appear to be controlled as other organs are, but are emptied with the hand by a downward pressure. the secretion contained in these two bags is a solid from which oil is extracted and is completely emptied once each year. close by every house a handful of dry grass is gathered up and the castorum deposited, then a few tail-fulls of mud are put on top of it. what this is done for i am not certain but think it is like a challenge or a sign that all trespassers will have to fight. when the bags are emptied in the fall the beaver visit jackpine forests and eat largely of the gum, i am told by the indians, for the purpose of replenishing the castorum supply, and this is likely true, because the odor and character of the deposit is not unlike pine gum. castorum has a peculiar attraction for all wild animals, and the indians put it to account by using it as a trap scent. another advantage it has is that though an oil substance it is of such a nature that when rubbed on iron traps and set under water it will not leave the trap and float up like all other oil substances will do. commercially it is used as a body in perfumes, likely also on account of its being able to retain the perfume for such a long time. (_to be continued_) g. l. bellingham won way from clerkship in land dept. _assistant land commissioner--a man to whom accuracy is next to godliness--has earned continuous promotion through 18 years._ by b. a. everitt, _associate editor_ mr. g. l. bellingham, assistant to the land commissioner, hails from wales but he has been so long in canada and has for so many years dealt with h.b.c. farm lands that he knows his adopted country possibly better than his native soil. mr. bellingham is so intimately in touch with the company's widespread land holdings that he can almost tell one the value, topography, the soil and the tonnage of wild hay on any h.b.c. parcel out of several thousand dotted over the prairie maps. _likes to see a "square deal" all round_ mr. bellingham is keen, active and earnest, with a typical british temperament, which often reminds one that he is a fighting man all through--prepared to hold his own in any transaction. those who know him best admire his faculty for getting at the "root of things" quickly and his insistence on absolute justice being meted out to all concerned. _insists on clear understanding_ any arrangement made with mr. bellingham could not possibly be misunderstood or confused. his mastery of details and clearcut registering of all salient points--always followed by a careful recapitulation--makes issues unforgettable, whether the occasion be the sale of a section of land or the arrangement of a curling match. he is as careful in even the most unimportant dealings as if making a legal contract. [illustration] mr. bellingham was born at newport, monmouthshire, wales, june 17th, 1875. educated in london and north of england, he entered a lancashire stockbroker's office in 1889, where he remained for two years. for ten years, subsequently, he was in the employ of the town council, resigning the position of assistant secretary in 1902, to embark for canada. _has a try at tilling the soil_ the desire to get "back to the land" had got a strong hold upon him, and canada's great west presented the most alluring prospects to the young and adventurous agriculturist. one week of the farm's hard labor sufficed. mr. bellingham's illusions of the joy of currying the prairies as a means of enticing wealth broke and died as the proverbial bubble. his first farm job was either too "hefty" for mr. bellingham or he was not powerful enough for it. _joined h.b.c. as clerk in 1902_ in winnipeg, may 16th, 1902, he applied for and obtained a junior position in the company's land department, of which mr. montague aldous was chief clerk and mr. c. c. chipman, commissioner. _faithful effort gains promotions_ mr. bellingham applied himself earnestly to learning all there was to know about land and h.b.c. methods of doing business. he was assigned one duty after another and, as his good work came to the notice of his superiors, "graduated" from each new position to a better one. to-day, he is assistant to the land commissioner, mr. h. f. harman. when the company's edmonton townsite sale of 1912 was inaugurated, mr. bellingham was chosen to take charge of the edmonton branch, in which capacity he remained until june, 1916, being then recalled to winnipeg to deputize for the assistant land commissioner during the latter's absence in france. what happened at moose factory during summer and fall, 1920 extracts from the post journal from entries by j. l. gaudet, post manager july 1st--our steamer, the "inenew," left this morning on her first trip to charlton island, taking the district staff to the island for the summer, as this is our summer distributing point. dr. stewart and rev. w. g. walton were passengers. july 6th--the steamer returned with a cargo for moose factory of charlton depot stock. the steamer returned to charlton with a load of lumber which i am shipping to the straits. july 14th--the steamer returned with her second cargo from charlton, and took another load of lumber for the strait posts. mr. johansen of the biological branch of the naval department of the canadian government, was a passenger on his way to fort george. mr. fred mcleod and family were also passengers on their way to woswonaby post. mr. mcleod is going there in the capacity of post manager. july 21st--mr. f. d. wilson arrived here to-day with two apprentice clerks, messrs. beveridge and findlay, both from aberdeen, scotland. aug. 3rd--mr. aurey, the government treaty paymaster, arrived here on his annual trip, paying treaty to the indians. mr. aurey is assisted by dr. baker. aug. 10th--mr. russell and family, mr. john louttit and family, arrived with the schooner "fort george." these gentlemen are on their way out to civilization. mr. russell was in charge of fort george post. aug. 14th--mr. romanet, general fur trade inspector, arrived here with mrs. romanet and two children. mr. romanet says he is here on an official visit from the fur trade commissioner's office. inspector phillips and sgt. joy, of the r.c.m. police, also arrived to-day. they are on their way to the belcher islands to investigate some eskimo murder case. aug. 17th--a large seaplane, "the caaz," with capt. maxwell as pilot and mr. doan as engineer, landed here this afternoon. this is the first flying machine to come to moose factory and was quite a sight for our indians. aug. 19th--the general inspector left on the schooner "fort george" for charlton island this morning at 7 o'clock. a canoe carrying the ship's papers and two apprentice clerks, mr. gregory and mr. bremner, arrived at 1 p.m., just a few hours late to catch the schooner which i was holding for that purpose, so i had to get busy and send off our hay-boat with this mail to charlton island. aug. 23rd--the seaplane landed here to-day on her second trip from remy lake, which is a few miles from cochrane, with two moving picture men, mr. blake and mr. tash. they claim that they are being sent by the ontario government to take pictures. aug. 26th--we had a visit from capt. mack to-day. he came with our schooner "fort charles" from charlton island, and states that they had a hard and trying trip coming through the straits. mr. and mrs. mayer were also passengers. mr. mayer is our worthy post manager at great whale river and is on his way out to civilization on a few months' leave. aug. 27th--the seaplane "caaz" brought us some newspapers from cochrane, dated aug. 25th, with the latest news. aug. 31st--we have at last managed to extinguish the bush fire which was started by the rev. mr. haythornthwaite on the 25th inst., after working day and night since it started. this will be quite a relief to the many families who are still camped across the river, as they were afraid to come back. sept. 2nd--our steamer "inenew" landed here to-day with our district manager, mr. rackham, mr. romanet, the general inspector, mr. griffith, manager of albany post, who is acting as private secretary to the general inspector, messrs. blake and tash, movie men, and the rev. mr. walton were passengers. the seaplane "caaz" also arrived from remy lake with mr. griffin, representing the toronto _star_, as passenger. sept. 21st--mr. a. nicolson and family arrived this evening from rupert's house, after a hard and trying trip around the coast. mr. nicolson has been in the employ of the hudson's bay company for forty years. it is with much regret that we see mr. nicolson severing his active services with the good old company. sept. 23rd--mr. and mrs. j. w. anderson and child landed here to-day after spending a few months' holiday in civilization. mr. anderson is on his way to his post, which is attawapiskat. oct. 1st--the steamer "inenew" landed here to-day with the district office staff and the balance of our outfit. this finishes our season's transport. oct. 7th--capt. g. r. redfearn, a. guibeau, engineer, inspector phillips, sgt. joy, mr. johansen and mr. sainsbury left this morning for clute. oct. 9th--hauled out the s.s. "inenew" to winter quarters and stored away the hauling gear. oct. 27th--packet canoes returned from the line to-day and by them received the first issue of our magazine, _the beaver_. oct. 29th--mr. g. r. ray, fur trade inspector, and mr. j. b. neil arrived here to-day at mid day. nov. 10th--the river is frozen over, and hardly any snow on the ground as yet. we are having fine weather.--j. l. gaudet, post manager. the ghost is foiled in lac seul's haunted room by r. o. otten it was christmas at lac seul post, that historic place, well known to men of the north. quite a number of the outpost managers had come in to spend christmas with the post manager and his family. the last to arrive was mr. r. he had travelled over 200 miles by dog team and cariole to get there. after the hand-shaking was over, mr. m., the post manager, drew mr. r. aside and asked if he believed in ghosts. mr. r. laughed and said he didn't believe in any kind of spirits, except the kind they used to have at christmas in the old days, but wanted to know what the joke was. the post manager told him that he had only one room left vacant, and nobody had slept in that room for years as it was supposed to be haunted. the story was that on two different occasions at the usual christmas gathering of the outpost managers, there had been tragic endings to several guests who had occupied that room. both had died from having their throats cut from ear to ear--and no one had slept there since. mr. r. said he didn't believe in such nonsense as ghosts, and wanted to be shown to the room, as he wanted to get a shave and clean-up before dinner. he said any kind of a room would look good to him after sleeping in the snow for the past week. the post manager showed him to the room which was situated at the rear of the large dwelling house, away from the rest of the guests. mr. r. had just laid out his "glad rags" and was commencing to shave--he had the razor in his hand--when a feeling came over him that _he was not alone in the room_. looking into the mirror, he was horrified to see there the reflection of a horrible face peering over his shoulder. he felt his wrist grasped by a claw-like hand. his hand was being forced slowly up and up, towards his throat. mr. r. tried to call out for help, but he was powerless to utter a sound. the hand was still forcing the razor towards his victim's throat, then it started to draw it across. mr. r. gave himself up for lost, when he felt the grip on his wrist loosen and a baffled expression came over the horrible face. that ghost was up against modern science. _mr. r. was using a safety razor._ saskatchewan district office news congratulations would appear to be in order for mr. and mrs. armstrong, of fort a la corne post, and their daughter norah on the success attained by the latter at the recent st. alban's college (prince albert) term examinations. the following is a quotation from the local paper: "miss norah armstrong, the gold medalist of the year at st. alban's college, prince albert, holds an enviable record in the college. miss armstrong has been a student at st. alban's for the past four years, taking her grade 8 diploma in 1917. she was successful in passing her junior matriculation examination in june, and now holds the st. alban's scholarship to the university of saskatchewan. in addition to her marked progress in her studies, miss armstrong has found time to distinguish herself along athletic lines, having won the tennis cup in singles, and also with miss phyllis clarke in the doubles." "skippering a scow" on the athabasca (_continued from last number_) by n. a. howland [illustration] when the men in the scow realized their position they did not shout frenziedly for help. to them the most important business of the moment was to get a smoke. _they smoked while facing death_ the _frenzied_ people were all on shore. under the calming influence of tobacco, the wrecked crew surveyed the damage. the boat was intact though leaking a little. it was impossible for them to extricate themselves. even if any of them could swim, an attempt to make the shore would have proved fatal. they relied on us. their hope was founded on a rock as surely as their craft. _getting ready for the rescue_ it was not long ere some of the sixty odd men, at mr. cornwall's direction, on the island had run to the warehouse to get rope. fortunately being on the scene, he took matters in hand, and as soon as the necessary tackle had been brought, essayed to rescue the endangered crew. the only way that this could be done was to get a line aboard the scow and pull her off. the distance from shore was too great to permit of a rope being thrown, but there was a rock standing well out of the water about half way between, from which it might be possible to hurl a stick; so cornwall, taking a club in his hand to which was attached a long cord held by the men on shore, started to work his way out to the vantage point through the rock-studded stream, struggling from boulder to boulder, the swirling water gripping and tearing at his legs in an effort to sweep him away. _fighting the torrent_ to the tense crowd of men watching it seemed impossible that he could attain his object, but in spite of the great physical strain slowly and surely the figure--now waist deep in the current, now pulling himself up on to a rock, clinging always to the meagre support with a tenacity that the raging torrent could not break--reached its goal. _getting a line aboard the wreck_ a sense of relief came to those who watched, but not for long. he rested for a moment to recover his breath; then coolly gathering the small rope into a coil he made the first throw. a gasp went up from the crowd on shore. the distance was too great; the stick hit the water fully twenty feet short. again and again the attempt failed. sometimes the missile fell so close that the rope could almost be reached but they had no boat-hook aboard. the thrower could not stand up with good footing to do his work, but from a precarious position threw with arms alone. he rested, tired by his exertions. suddenly he gathered all his strength and at imminent hazard of hurling himself into the river sent the stick with unerring aim over its mark. _we pulled the scow off the rock_ a mighty cheer went up from all the watchers. it was but a moment's work to haul in the cable and make it fast to the end of the scow; every available man on shore found a place on the line, and pulled with might and main to the cry of "yo heave ho!" that she creaked in every seam and her square end was drawn bow-shaped under the strain on that fragile rope. pull as we might, our efforts to dislodge her were unavailing. something had to give, however. it was the line which parted with a snap, hurling us to the ground. a groan went up from those in danger, for in a moment they fell from the highest hope to the lowest depth of despair. they were in worse plight than before, but steadfastly the business of renewing communication with the scow proceeded without delay. cornwall's efforts were again crowned with success. little by little our task was accomplished and we were gratified to see the men who were in the water scramble aboard in great haste, as with a rousing cheer we let go the cable. _a tenderfoot spectator_ when we had first arrived at the head of the rapids the previous day, a little man with a large outfit was found encamped on the river bank unable to proceed any further, waiting for something or somebody to turn up. ten days had passed before help arrived. he had been brought hither by a gasoline engine and canoe, his only companions so far as is known being two spaniels. this gentleman styled himself a prospector ostensibly bound for fond-du-lac to investigate the silver strike there; but his proceedings and appearance belied the assertion, for if there were a man who should not have left the shelter of the paternal wings, it was he. the impression gained was that he was one of those helpless useless atoms of humanity that are misfits anywhere, but in the north, where one must be self-reliant, doubly out of place. he having arranged with mr. cornwall for a "lift" from there to fort mcmurray, lay all day on his bedding in the sand surrounded by his goods and chattels, playing with his dogs, bestirring himself only to take a photograph occasionally or get a bite to eat. _fondled his spaniels and looked on_ he was apparently oblivious to the tragedy being enacted within a hundred yards of him. this man called down upon himself the contempt and scorn of all men present by remaining inert, lazily fondling his spaniels whilst men's lives trembled in the balance. his hand upon the rope would not perhaps have helped much, but we should at least have known that he was a man. the sequel to his apathy was that next day he was deposited on the main land below the rapids and where it was intimated to him that his company was no longer desirable. _an all night mosquito raid_ whether fired by a spirit of recklessness by the events of the day, or whether the writer was too tired to return to his camp on the mainland with the men is of little consequence, but be it known that his mosquito-bar was there. needless to say, the mosquitoes were victorious. we needed no alarm clock that morning because the enemy forced me out of bed during the night to upbraid myself for a fool. not a wink of sleep for me as a result; however, we got an early breakfast out of it. _the tug "crester" wrecked_ my russians were making good progress removing the rails, the freight having been all portaged, and the scows run through the previous day were being drawn up to the island and reloaded. about 10 o'clock captain barber started to run the tug "crester" through the rapids without steam, steering with auxiliary in case of accident. disaster dogged the footsteps of the railroad party apparently. nothing had gone well so far. the climax had arrived. those who were watching the river gave a shout. all eyes went to the rapid immediately; there was the "crester" shooting down through the roughest of the water well over on the land side, out of control. we learned later that her rudder had been smashed. we saw her take a few bad bumps from a distance of two hundred yards; then with a final heave she seemed to be lifted bodily and dashed on the rocks close inshore where she lay a wreck with her bottom stove in, broadside to the current with the waves breaking over her. [illustration] _the "crester" dismantled_ there were no casualties. with the aid of spars, the crew were easily able to make the land. it was the middle of the afternoon before it was possible for me to go over and see the tug. in the space of six hours the captain, engineer and boatmen had her completely dismantled and all her "innards" ashore, whilst preparations were being made to pull her off and float her down the rest of the way into the big eddy, where she could be patched up. (_to be continued_) moose island afire _clergyman's bonfire grows into conflagration, threatening h.b.c. post and natives' homes_ by geo. findlay, moose factory a journal extract, dated august 25th, 1920, states briefly that: "the rev. mr. haythornthwaite while burning old tree stumps at the back of the mission allowed the fire to run on, thereby setting alight the adjoining bush." that day, a wednesday, was excessively hot, and, as the whole summer had been very warm, all the bush and undergrowth must have been perfectly dry. at 2 o'clock in the afternoon the cry of "fire" went up, and from the southwest end of the island a big column of smoke began to darken the air, blowing in the direction of the post. for some minutes the natives stood gazing and then the realization that the island was afire broke upon them. something akin to panic set in. canoes were loaded. food, blankets and tents were thrown haphazardly into them, and they were swiftly paddled to the opposite bank of the river by the fear-stricken natives. imagine the scene: the river dotted with canoes, with their multicoloured loads; the roar of the ever-increasing fire, as it was fanned by a slight breeze, and the strange stillness that pervaded the post, which can be sensed only in a deserted place. the servants returned as soon as their families were safely "entrenched" on the other side of the river, and each with his axe hurried to the scene of the outbreak. in company with mr. gaudet, our post manager, i went to see the progress made by the fire. often we were compelled to change our route through the bush on account of the terrific heat and the choking, blinding smoke. in many places great patches of undergrowth were blazing quite a distance from the body of the fire, sparks having been blown ahead by the wind. the roar of the fire was deafening as it caught fresh trees, shooting great lurid tongues of flame up their entire thirty feet. darker and darker grew the air; the heat became fiercer; the fire advanced as if to satisfy its terrible hunger by enveloping the entire island in its scorching clutch; and as we walked back to the deserted post thoughts of having to abandon it ran through our minds. however the wind dropped, and the little band of fire fighters worked hard to accomplish their task. had the wind risen, the whole island would have been devastated. all that night, and the succeeding five days and nights, gangs of natives (who had by this time got over their fright) and servants watched the fire until it was successfully stamped out. [illustration: _assembly of indians who received h.b.c. long service medals at fort alexander_] [illustration: _robust sons of post manager w. a. murray, at fort alexander, manitoba_] winnipeg resolved _jan. 1, 1921_ that new year's resolutions are not going out of fashion, as witnessed by the following answers to the query, "what is one of your new year's resolutions." _j. h. pearen_--to remain young that i may laugh with my children. to be considerate at all times of the aged and infirm or those in need of encouragement. _w. ogden_--to think more, talk less and to go through each day fully realizing that the opportunities which come to me lie in the present and not in the future. _thos. f. reith_, card-writer--that i try to emulate the well-known beaver and turn out heaps of b_right_ e_ffective_ a_rtistic_ v_igorous_ e_nterprising and_ r_eadable_ show cards, tickets and signs during 1921, in which case i expect to "be-a-ver-"y busy card-writer. _geo. w. ashbrook_--it is my opinion that a new year's resolution, if sincere, should be confined to the individual's eye alone and not open to the gaze of the public. _s. kaufman_--one of my resolutions for 1921 is to endeavor to reduce my weight twenty pounds by applying myself assiduously to the royal sport of curling during the winter season and by strenuously playing tennis during leisure hours in the summer time. _miss d. bens_--to be true to my word, my work and my friends. to make all i can, to save all i can and give all i can. _j. w. frankish_--we are aiming at 100% efficiency in selling our merchandise. it should be sold on the same basis as we buy it. more attention by sales staff in introducing all the new merchandise as it enters the department. this is our intention in departments 3 and 5 for 1921. _chas. healey_--do it now! this is my new year's resolution. it is so easy to put things off when just a little "pep," a little extra energy is needed. so much can be gained and greater satisfaction can be given to all. do it now! _a. c. dunbar_--i will increase my efficiency--(power to produce)--by studying, plus analyzing, plus determination, plus application, equals increased efficiency. _j. whalley_--that every business act of mine will be executed with the full belief that it is for the best interest of the firm. _saml. drennan_--to continue placing more confidence in the washboard than in the ouija board. _i. n. cognito_--not to engage any more handsome looking salesgirls, as those i now have are all engaged--and may get married. _w. r. ogston_--one of my resolutions for the new year will be to govern my actions, thought and speech towards my fellowmen by the well-known principle of "the golden rule" and to do my work in such a way that at the close of each day i may feel that i have accomplished something. winnipeg moustache club _semi-annual report_ just prior to the closing of the outfit ending january 31st, 1920, a careful inventory discloses the following state of affairs. the showing is not entirely satisfactory, but it is felt that some progress is being made. _moustaches on hand_--none. _moustaches on upper lip_--twenty divided among the following "heads of stocks": messrs. frankish, goody, grant, moore (tailoring), lade, fuller, hughes, lackie, weeden, blowers, leveque, dickens, harrison, hardiman, keeley, chambers, duckneau, breitner, clark, pugsley (?). _new member_--mr. t. nichols. (greetings, brother). _under suspicion_--mr. c. m. thomas, mr. c. robinson, mr. robt. cunningham. _the club's national anthem_--"the bonnie bloomin' heather." _legend for club's new escutcheon_--"the weight of a hair will turn the scales."--_shakespeare._ _remarks_--all members and supporters are urged to consult mr. saalfeld re irregularities of growth observed from time to time. renovation for spring should be undertaken early. special rates to members for loan of hoover electric sweepers. use of garden rakes or weeders will result in suspension from club privileges. special attention is called to the alarming recurrence of the grasshopper plague prophesied for june and july. [illustration: do you remember this remarkable aggregation? this is the formidable h.b.c. football team, season 1911-12. _from left to right_--madill, jones, medland, isaacs, everitt, paul, brodie, dyde, foulks, sheldon, campbell, mr. a. h. doc, law, smith, allan.] managers' social dramatic affair as merry a company as ever graced a festal board met at the store buyers', managers' and assistants' social in the lunchroom, thursday evening, january sixth. the highly edible and diversified "wittles" were disposed of with a display of "wim" and "wigor" which did justice to all traditions. entire arrangements for the occasion were undertaken by the ladies, and the zest with which the entertainment proceeded brought down the applause of the whole assembly. speech, anecdote, jest, song and a three-act drama, starring the celebrated tragedian, samuel drennan, were features of an altogether enjoyable and profitable evening. are we 100 per cent efficient? by r. j. hughes i wonder how many of us could answer the question at the head of this article truthfully without a considerable amount of self-study, and if we did stop and analyze ourselves would we find that we could say, "yes, i am 100 per cent. efficient." now, let us consider for a minute what "efficient" really means. turning to your dictionary, you will find the definition, "capable of producing the desired results." are we really prepared to say "yes, i am capable of producing the desired results." if you can't, you are not 100 per cent. efficient and must find the reason why. it does not matter what position you hold or what the nature of your work is, if you are efficient, advancement is bound to be waiting. in a recent issue of _the beaver_ was a copy of what was called "a man-rating chart" and a statement that stores' staff promotions are governed by efficiency. study this chart and see how many points you can honestly claim to have mastered. whatever you do, don't go round like some people saying, "i am 100 per cent. efficient." if you really are, the management will soon notice it and promotion will come your way. next month i will tell you what an important part memory takes in efficiency. y-o-u! _what's the matter with you, anyway?_ by elmer pugsley there are two ways, 'tis said, by which to get into "society"--either by flattering or shocking it. but though the writer had the honeyed tongue of the anteater, this is no time to coddle and soothe you with some linseed-poultice sort of caressing lullaby. it's new year's and i am deliberately setting out to fire up your "dander." of course, you may be able to prove an alibi, but, otherwise, if these few plodding lines succeed in making you really boiling, red-hot "mad"--(not just angry, you understand)--that will be the best proof that you're still conscious--and there's hope for you. we shudder when we read of "so and so" being picked up unconscious, but i could pick up numbers of people in that pitiable predicament any day--people who somehow got into the business world, strange to say. you stand at the outset of a new year. scientists think there have been living beings on this old planet for 500,000 of those time-measures we call years--but there is _only one_ you can be sure of--that's _this_ year. it's a wonder you didn't think of that without being told! glance back over the old year's glimmering trail now fading into whatever such things fade into. it is strewed with regrets and wasted opportunities that slipped through your careless fingers! aren't you ashamed? what's the matter with you anyway? don't you care much? aren't you interested in the big proposition called "life", more than just enough to watch the procession of progressive mortals passing? you'll never keep up with them if you don't pad right along! wouldn't you like to strike out for a real goal, eh? you have the stuff in you if you'd just shake yourself a little to rouse your rusting gifts. don't turn over the key to the bailiff just because you weren't born under a favorable sign in the zodiac. even if your teacup doesn't read right--pshaw! you wouldn't let a thing like that spoil your future! never mind if the bumps on your head are in the wrong place; jump into the scuffle and you'll receive any other bumps you need before you're through. a chap is said to have advertised his brains for sale the other day--"good as new--never been used." he never served in the hudson's bay, that fellow. no, sir! * * * * * the very air is surcharged with pleas to you to launch out and distinguish yourself. self advancement is the theme of the age. no one can do as much for you as you can do for yourself. you're a regular "powerhouse" of possibilities if you have enough gumption to utilize them. you remember you turned down a smashing good chance to get ahead, when, for the sake of a few paltry frivolities, you sacrificed that special study course which you could have mastered in 1920. you know better than that. you saunter along through life as if you had a thousand years to put in here. train the microscope on your freckled career and set about to remedy things. come now, get hold of yourself! it's all beginning over again--new year--new page--new everything! tackle something that's so much bigger than you that it scares you! that's the way to grow accustomed to accomplishing big things. this is _your_ year! how do you know that you're going to have another as good? make this your motto--pin it to your new year's resolutions--"this is _my_ year!"--and in sooth it _will_ be your year! miss mccheyne's name was inadvertently omitted from the formerly published list of names of those completing ten years' service. since the change in markets miss winslow, our postmistress-in-general, is worried for fear someone is going to tear in one of these days and ask what the new replacement price is on two cent postage stamps. someone turns in an unsigned report about the prevalence of "sparklers" getting hard on the eyes around the bureau of adjustment. first snowshoe tramp by land staff eighteen members of the land department staff snowshoed out to the home of mr. b. everitt, our genial associate editor, at east kildonan, saturday evening, december 18th. the party gathered at redwood bridge and tramped north by way of red river. about half way it was found necessary to call a halt owing to the guide being missing. his rejuvenated appearance upon eventually overtaking the main party led to some doubt as to the generally accepted meaning of "air holes," which were reported to be the cause of the delay. while there was not sufficient snow to make real good tramping, what was lacking in this respect was more than compensated for by the enjoyable time provided by the host and hostess at the conclusion of the hike. here games and dancing were indulged in until midnight, when the party was brought to an end with the singing of "auld lang syne."--_f.h.n._ _an error rectified_ as some error in the names of the long service medalists had been made at the opening of the anniversary celebration, our general manager's office was the scene the other day of a pleasant little ceremony when mr. chas. e. robinson was made the recipient of his long service medal. it was presented by sir augustus nanton, chairman of the canadian advisory committee, mr. fitzgerald and mr. sparling being also present. "charlie" has been with the store since june 6, 1904, and is one of the bulwarks. mr. james thomson, former commissioner of lands and furs, was warmly welcomed home at winnipeg, december 23rd, after an absence of several months in the orkney's and scotland. edmonton land office [illustration: _our photograph shows mr. j. r. mcintosh, h.b.c. land agent in charge of the edmonton land office, with his secretary and mr. henderson (standing). mr. mcintosh and staff who are actively associated with the company's housing scheme, operate from these modern offices in the mcleod building._] retail store notes recent changes among store's department heads changes never seem to come singly, for since the first appearance of _the beaver_ no less than five important executive appointments have been made in the store; and another is scheduled for the very near future. * * * * * mr. chasey, the new buyer for the men's clothing departments, and miss m. doherty, the new buyer for the hosiery and gloves, are now firmly established on their feet and are making noteworthy progress. * * * * * we now welcome to our ranks three more recent arrivals: * * * * * mr. pallett is another easterner who has heard the call of the west. mr. pallett succeeds mr. jenkins as buyer of the trimmings and ribbons. he was previously with the t. eaton company for several years. mr. pallett is very favorably impressed with the city of edmonton and predicts a great future for the store. mr. secord is the new buyer of the ladies' ready-to-wear, and successor to mr. woodman. mr. secord was previously with the robert simpson co., of toronto, nine years buyer of the ladies' ready-to-wear and fur department. since coming to the store, mr. secord has won the esteem of the entire staff and we predict a rosy future for the department under his supervision. mr. j. mcleod has succeeded mr. mckee as buyer of the cigar and candy departments. mr. mcleod was recently floor manager on the second floor and was previously manager of the grocery department, hudson's bay company, retail, vernon, b.c. hail to our new assistant "chief" this new appointment was effective on december 13th, 1920. besides holding the position of assistant manager, mr. mckenzie will also act in the capacity of merchandise manager, thereby relieving mr. f. f. harker of a big burden. mr. harker has for the past twelve months acted in the dual capacity of manager of the store as well as merchandise manager. mr. g. m. mckenzie was born in edinburgh, scotland, serving his apprenticeship in the dry goods and men's wear business. in 1901 he came to canada and joined the firm of jaeger & company, subsequently holding the position of stores manager and supervisor of the factory in montreal. in 1916 mr. mckenzie heard the call of his country and proceeded to the front, serving with his majesty's forces in france until march, 1919. upon returning to canada he accepted a position with the r. j. tooke company as general manager of the retail stores in montreal. his recent appointment as assistant manager of the edmonton store will fill a long felt want. * * * * * [illustration: _mr. p. a. stone, president of the amusement and athletic association, which has grown to embrace a dozen varied athletic and social activities since its inauguration in september, 1919._] * * * * * mrs. lewis recently rejoined the staff after an absence of two years. she is in charge of the lace and neckwear department. we are glad to welcome her back. miss law is also an old member of the staff who has recently come back to the store. during her absence she was with the company's store at calgary. she is resuming her duties here in the ribbon department. miss mcadam, who has been in the company's service for the past seven years, has left us for the coast. miss mcadam was a very popular member of the staff and we regret exceedingly to lose her. mr. howey, of the men's furnishings department, is an expert hockey player. we have no doubt he will be a valuable acquisition to the store's team. mr. c. stapells, house furnishings buyer, and mr. hewes are very busy these days supervising the draperies and furnishings for the palatial new empire theatre. we have heard that a certain young lady on the third floor has lost her heart and is going to sign a life contract in the very near future. the a. and a. a. concert reveals real artists another of those very enjoyable concerts which are staged periodically through the winter months by the amusement and athletic association, was held in the "hudsonia" dining room on thursday evening, december 2nd, at which about 150 members and their friends were present. the association was again fortunate in hearing mr. r. l. bateman, who rendered "she is far from the land" and, in response to a hearty encore, "for you alone" was all that could be desired. miss kate hamilton sang "bird songs" in which her beautiful voice was heard to very great advantage. mrs. roy carbert sang tosti's "good bye," and as an encore, "angus macdonald." mr. bert crockett sang "there's life in the old dog yet," which was very much appreciated, he being vociferously encored. all the other artists are members of the staff and their songs were all rendered in admirable style. one exceptionally pleasing number was the duet, "tenor and baritone," mr. t. a. crockett's tenor and mr. digney's baritone voices blending in perfect harmony. miss edna southen and miss k. riddle were two excellent sopranos, whilst miss w. e. crowther's sweet contralto voice has never been heard to greater advantage. mr. t. a. crockett and mr. george saunders have fine tenor voices, whilst mr. g. robert's deep bass was used with effect in "out on the deep." mr. c. digney was splendid in "captain mack" and later his rendering of "my old shako" was perfect. miss moore acted as accompanist throughout and in addition gave a duet in company, with her sister. one cannot speak too highly of miss moore's assistance, as she is always ready and willing to help in any way that will add to the enjoyment of the staff, whether it be as accompanist or soloist. mr. p. a. stone, president of the amusement and athletic association, acted as chairman. community singing is getting results community singing for the staff, which was inaugurated at the edmonton store, november 1st, 1920, is reported to be an unqualified success. the staff arrive at 8.45 a.m. and sing usually two songs before 8.55 a.m. bell sounds, when the covers are removed preparatory to the day's business. the initiative was taken by the amusement and athletic association. the fact that it is still retaining the original interest proves that the all-important co-operation has been obtained; hence the success. whilst it is impossible yet to gauge the full extent of the benefits derived from community singing, it may be said that the early morning "grouch" is dissipated, and that alone makes it worth while, as it leaves the staff in a happier frame of mind. this cannot but conduce to the betterment of the service afforded to customers. from community singing to a trained choir is but a step, since even the untrained singer gradually falls into and holds the time and rhythm of the piece being sung, so that from an untrained band of voices a perfectly functioning choir is created. this is the aim of the edmonton amusement and athletic association, and with a continuance of the staff's co-operation that end will be attained. the ad. man's destiny mr. jack prest was going home one night in the street car. it was late, and the man sitting next to him began to talk. "what business are you in?" he asked. "the advertising business," replied jack. "is that so? well, well, i used to be in the advertising business myself. i gave it up though and went into the rag-and-old-bottle business. i was a sandwich man for the empire theatre for six months." "say," and he leaned over confidentially, "ain't it hard when the wind blows?" calgary the rank and file by f. r. reeve the newspapers recently had much to say concerning the remarkable honors paid in england and france to the bodies of two unknown soldiers who fell on the battlefields. it was a nation's whole-hearted recognition of the fact that victory was after all due to the efforts and self-sacrifice of the rank and file. in the scheme of life each one of us has a definite sphere to fill. lest those who now constitute the rank and file in the service of the company should be inclined to regard their positions with something of dissatisfaction, as being of no importance, i would have them take a lesson from the honors paid to these two unknown soldiers. upon those who constitute the front rank, those who come in contact with the public, the whole success of this great company depends. behind you it is true, stretches a long line that reaches back from the junior buyer, through to the governor himself, but the work accomplished by this wonderful organization does not reach its greatest success except through your co-operation. the transaction between a customer and salesperson is not just so much money changing hands for a certain article. it represents the crowning success of a long series of operations, that, through your hands as the h.b.c. representative, reaches the goal for which it was intended, an appreciative buying public. upon the conduct of the rank and file--upon the impressions that are derived from your personality--is this company judged. the courtesy, helpfulness and efficiency that are displayed by you are the greatest assets this company has. to know and to realize that no matter what your position in the service of the company may be, that the company is absolutely depending on your efforts will be to create in you a greater desire for helpfulness and efficiency which cannot fail to mean greater success for yourself and company too. vancouver _everybody boost for our 1921 hockey team_ it has been asked of the editor why there were not more attending the hockey games last winter, and why the h.b.c. employees were very backward in supporting their own team, being especially conspicuous by their absence. we've a dandy team this year, folks, and the boys sure would like some "rooters." come along and bring your friends and the horn off the old ford. help the team make a name for themselves in the commercial league. the following are the names of our players: _w. e. almas (capt.)_ _e. herbert_ _p. timmins_ _chub anderson_ _r. m. mair_ _j. gilroy_ _j.c. hamm_ _j. mcdonald_ _j. d. barber_ _c. boe_ * * * * * we were very grieved to hear on december 10th of the death of mr. patterson, husband of mrs. w. patterson, cashier in our children's shoe department. * * * * * we are also bereaved of one of our old employees, mr. james hallisy, who passed away at his home on december 10th. the deceased was on our night staff, and had been in the company's employ since 1918. * * * * * the army and navy league hall again witnessed a popular h.b.c. dance. approximately 350 attended and tripped the light fantastic to the strains of garden's orchestra. mr. skelly, chairman, and his competent committee had charge of the affair, which was carried off without a hitch to a very successful ending. _mr. lockyer elected president of vancouver exhibition association_ holding their first meeting since taking office, the directors of the vancouver exhibition association on dec. 16th elected mr. h. t. lockyer, manager of the hudson's bay company, vancouver retail store, as president for the ensuing year.--_vancouver province._ * * * * * mr. w. w. frazer, the popular buyer for china and glass, left for europe in the interests of his section, early this month. many laudatory remarks were overheard by eastern and american tourists anent his last collection of lovely china. mr. frazer apparently knows where to get them. "where do they get all these pretty patterns--there's not an ugly one among them"--exclaimed a lady from ottawa recently, and went on to say she had never seen a better display in new york, montreal or toronto. but that's mr. frazer's secret. we wish him bon voyage and the best of luck this time. * * * * * miss a. k. smith, too, buyer of notions, neckwear, laces, trimmings, hankies and fancy jewellery, has been chosen for a trip abroad after the airy fairy "nothings"--"the stuff that dreams are made of"--that are so dear to feminine hearts. her return from europe ladened with spoils will be looked forward to with interest by her constituency in vancouver. you may be sure miss smith will not overlook any of the cute or smart little knick-knacks that are being shown in the marts over there, and we shall all have an opportunity to be more than ever up-to-date on her return. vancouver is to be congratulated on having two buyers in whom the company has so much faith and confidence as to entrust with this important foreign buying. _the tell-tale inventory_ a vancouver bailiff went out to levy on the contents of a house. the inventory began in the attic and ended in the cellar. when the dining-room was reached the tally of furniture ran thus: _one dining room table, oak._ _one set of chairs (6), oak._ _one sideboard, oak._ _two bottles of whiskey, (full)!_ then the word "full" was stricken over and replaced by "empty" and the inventory went on in a hand that struggled and lurched across the page, until it closed with: "_one revolving door mat._" _mr. greer gets a regular shower of good things_ by e. bell of the recent year end festivities enjoyed by hudson's bay employees perhaps none had more of the _vivres_ and relish of the days of real sport than the banquet tendered mr. greer by his staff in the display department. this event took place in the barron hotel to begin with and ended at a box party to the opera to witness the "dance shop." the menu of the dinner, which was enjoyed both wisely and well, gives some of the unlucky individuals who were not invited an appetizer even to read: _greer soup_ _goose a la greer_ _oyster cocktail, y.m.c.a._ _celery a la celestial citizen_ _brussels sprouts a la lulu island_ _fried sweet potatoes, brunette_ _hot toasted rolls, blonde_ _combination salad a la display_ _french pastry translated cake, devilled_ _creme de chaufroid cafe d'hots d'el_ (_n.b.--s.o.s. calgary. m. laparique, please note. can you beat it?_) having done full justice to these delectable viands the innocent occasion of so much mirth was next trotted to the opera, where his friends had taken the precaution to present him with a lorgnette or opera glass, we forget which. (anyway it was not a monocle.) notwithstanding, to the everlasting credit of the display department, they all turned up next morning on time and in the best of spirits. _old-time employees visit the store_ among the guests of the store last month were mr. and mrs. alexander j. baird, both old-time employees of the company, who devoted a number of years of faithful service in the old store and two or three years in the new store. mr. baird was secretary to the general manager, mr. lockyer. in 1917, he went to honolulu for a new field to conquer. he was there but a little while before he sent for his fiancee, miss beck, then the general manager's stenographer. as soon as she arrived in honolulu they were married. being accustomed to speculating and used to seeing money made out of land, mr. baird (in face of much opposition) bought a piece of land and built three cottages thereon--an investment which proved a good one and a money maker. kamloops h.b.c. kamloops store dates back to 1812 _location has changed several times to keep pace with growth of city_ by a.e. dodman the company's store at kamloops dates back to the year 1812 and it is therefore one of the oldest establishments at present existing in the stores department. the original location was some distance from the present store site, as, like all western towns, the business centre has changed several times, and the company found it necessary to change from time to time in order to keep pace with the natural growth of the city. the present premises were purchased and remodelled by the company in 1911, and have a frontage of 75 feet on victoria street, extending 125 feet on second avenue with two entrances on victoria and one on second avenue. the building consists of two stories and basement. in addition the company also operates a wholesale and retail tobacco and candy business on rented premises situated at the corner of victoria street and third avenue. the business at kamloops comprises eight departments--general dry goods, ladies' wear, men's furnishings, boots and shoes, crockery and hardware, house furnishing, groceries and tobaccos. miss brooke, of the grocery staff, resigned her position with the company and was married on january 1st, 1921. she was presented with a travelling bag by the staff. we wish her all kinds of joy and happiness in her new venture. she was a real "good fellow" and will be greatly missed by us. miss muir has accepted the position made vacant by miss brooke of the grocery department. we wish miss muir every success. miss cozens says she was never "locked out" in her life, but she experienced the feeling of being "locked in." she says "never again." the staff presented mr. a.e. dodman, our store manager, and mrs. dodman with a christmas gift of a very handsome tea set with best wishes. * * * * * a rumour is heard to the effect that mr. mcdonald, the accountant, has become an expert dancer, and has accepted an invitation to teach three ladies the fine points in dancing. nice for mac, but kind of tough on the ladies. * * * * * after a very busy and most successful christmas trade the staff have settled down for the most successful january sale we have ever had. vernon _entire staff a santa claus to mr. pout, xmas_ on christmas eve, at the close of the biggest day in the history of the vernon store, the staff gathered for a few minutes to extend good wishes and exchange tokens of friendship. at the conclusion, mr. pout was captured when trying to tip-toe off, set securely within the smiling circle, and compelled to listen to the following effusion which tom bone, the store poet, says he did not compose. it is now being blamed on jack ricketts, and so far jack hasn't denied it. _our dear respected mister pout we guess you guess what we're about; if not, you won't be long in doubt, but get the sense, so we shall quickly put to rout your dread suspense._ _it's christmas time, as you well know, and we have gathered here to show that years may come and years may go, with rush and zest, but our good feelings far outgrow this timely test?_ _it gives us joy to give to you this coffee service, bright and new, and wish that all things good and true that hope conjures, may travel all the next year through with you and yours._ mr. pout was too full for words (_honi soit qui mal y pense_), but he managed to express his hearty thanks for the splendid support and co-operation he had received from the entire staff during the christmas rush, also for the kind thought which prompted the giving of such a beautiful gift. the coffee pot was one of those long narrow "prohibition" coffee pots that you are unable to tell what is inside of until you taste the contents. tom harrison struck up "he's a jolly good fellow." "arry" thought it was "auld lang syne" and started off on his own, while james henderson, in an endeavour to put them both right, commenced "will you no come back again." when the company broke up, those three were still at it, and nobody could tell which was winning.--_r.w._ * * * * * miss cridland, treasurer of our sisters' sewing circle, has been absent from the meeting several week. we were surprised to see her at the last meeting. she says her absence has been due to the fact that she had to attend "prayer meetings." we have since learned that a certain young man's "tin lizzie" is being overhauled. may it take all winter--so gladys will be at every meeting. * * * * * miss phillys ripley, the girl with the sparkling eyes, assisted for several weeks in the hardware department but is back once again at her old stand tying bows for the kiddies. her eyes still sparkle and there are many beaus waiting for her to cast her spell on one of them so that two may be tied into one bow. "wonderful how popular some men are," said watson, when he heard what happened christmas eve. the girls in the dry goods department placed mistletoe on the light over mr. andrews' desk--and not one missed him, even mabel had hers. nuff sed. mr. tom bone, assistant manager of the grocery department, the staff poet, has changed his vocation and now spends his evenings making musical instruments. we wonder if it will be jazz or operatic music. we are glad to learn that mrs. griffin, wife of c. griffin of the men's department, is home once again after being confined to the hospital several weeks with typhoid fever. we all wish her a speedy recovery. vernon, gem of the okanagan --_and the h.b.c. store, one of its institutions_ thirty years ago, there were only two stores in vernon, the hudson's bay company and w.f. cameron, both firms carrying a general line of merchandise. the only other stores in the okanagan valley, at this period, were one at enderby, landsdowne, okanagan mission and penticton, so that these stores supplied the necessities of life practically to the whole of the okanagan valley, reaching from sicamous to fifty miles beyond penticton and from grand prairie to the white valley district. the towns of armstrong and kelowna, at this period, were not in existence. travelling in the early days was by stage and boat in summer, the boat running from sicamous to enderby, thence by stage to vernon, and the only method of travelling in winter was by stage or pack horse. mail, also, was received by these means of transportation. the great bulk of trading, at that time, was done with victoria, which was a greater commercial centre than vancouver. all merchandise from the coast was carried by freight trains to sicamous, transferred there to a small steamer as far as enderby and thence by wagon to vernon. business conditions and the manner of trading in the early days were entirely different to the present day method. there were no banks in the valley, all banking being done through vancouver, cheques often passing around as currency and would have as many as a dozen endorsations before reaching the bank. yearly credit was the system of trading. farmers, ranchers, trappers and indians paid their accounts once a year after they had received money for their crops and catch of furs; the amusing feature in regard to the credit in these days being that the average customer would ask of his account, simply looking at the total and settling up without checking up. considerable business was done in the bulk, tea sold by the chest, flour and sugar by the ton, and other commodities in similar large quantities. thirty years ago the valley was passing through a stage of transition from stock-raising to wheat producing. r. p. rithet & co. of victoria controlled a large flour mill at enderby, where all the wheat of the district was taken and milled. wheat then sold as low as $18.00 per ton at the mill, the farmer doing his own hauling. a few years later $28.00 per ton was considered a wonderful price. during the period under review, very little fruit was grown and it was not until 1892 that the growing of fruit was given any serious thought. at that time, lord aberdeen purchased the land now known as the coldstream ranch and started fruit growing on a fairly large scale, the land being purchased from forbes g. vernon. after him the city of vernon was named. he was, at that time, member for the okanagan valley, also minister of labor and works. at this period the population of vernon was about 300 and, generally speaking, were considered prosperous. a mr. gray of nicola was the largest cattle buyer and a general round-up of cattle was made twice a year, when he would make his purchase from the ranchers and drive the cattle out to the coast or prairie markets. (_to be continued_) [illustration: beaver chips] _the secret of success_ in the fall a methodist minister came into the edmonton exhibition offices and inquired where he could purchase a good, reliable horse. he was directed to r. b. hill's stables, where, after a judicious amount of deliberation, he decided on a horse which suited his fancy and pocket, and took him home. two days afterwards he came back to mr. hill and stated that the horse was blind, and within the rules as prescribed by the methodist church he told mr. hill just what he thought of the deal, and asked him why he had not been informed that the horse was blind, before purchasing him. mr. hill very modestly replied that he had not thought he should tell him, as the man from whom he got the horse in the first place had said nothing about this defect, and he thought it was a secret!! _no wonder_ editor--"we are sorry to lose your subscription, mr. jackson. what's the matter? don't you like our politics?" mistah jackson--"t'aint dat, sah; t'aint dat. mah wife jes' been an' landed a job o' work for me by advertisin' in youh darned ole papah." _didn't need to_ a young irishman recently applied for a job as life-saver at the municipal baths. as he was about six feet six inches high and well built, the chief life-saver gave him an application blank to fill out. "by the way," said the chief life-saver, "can you swim?" "no," replied the applicant; "but i can wade like blazes!" _he got the job_ police commissioner--"if you were ordered to disperse a mob what would you do?" applicant--"pass around the hat." p.c.--"you'll do." _two strings to her beau_ he--"if you could only have two wishes come true, what would you wish for?" she (frankly)--"well, i'd wish for a husband." he--"that's the only one." she--"i'd save the other wish until i saw how he turned out." _well! well!_ "i say, who was here with you last night?" "only myrtle, father." "well, tell myrtle that she left her pipe on piano." _fifty-fifty_ a man from toronto reported that an african resident of that city did a rattling business in rabbit sausages, until some of his customers began to question the quality of the goods. a committee waited on the merchant, and asked him if any meat other than that of rabbits went into the sausages. he reluctantly admitted that there was another meat in them, and when pressed further said that the dilution was by means of horse meat. the chairman of the committee then asked him the proportion of the two ingredients, and he said fifty-fifty. the committee started to withdraw when a heretofore silent member raised the question as to what the merchant meant by "fifty-fifty." "why, boss, by fifty-fifty ah means one rabbit and one hawss." _all engaged_ an irishman who had lately come over was sent to call a taxi. in about half an hour he returned and reported as follows: "some wan be the name of hire has the most of thim ingaged, and the only wans he didn't have some wan else had." _slim, slimmer, slimmest_ last week we read of a firm--manufacturers of petticoats--which went into bankruptcy. they stated in explanation that women, in the shrinking process of appearing taper, had ceased wearing 'em. to-day we notice the advertisement of a ladies' tailor: "suits made to order, with or without material." without material? gad zooks! we cut out that ad and burned it lest our wife should find it. _some ditty_ there was a young man from the city, who met what he thought was a kitty; he gave it a pat and said, "nice little cat!" and they buried his clothes out of pity. _vaccination problem_ classical dancer--"doctor, i want to be vaccinated somewhere where it won't show." doctor--"well, miss, i'm afraid i will have to vaccinate internally." _the safety vent_ "a friend of mine fell asleep in the bathtub with the water running." "did the tub overflow?" "nope; luckily he sleeps with his mouth open." [illustration: the smoking tobacco of yesterday, to-day and tomorrow] h.b.c. imperial mixture "_canada's national smoke_" _the tin with the humidor top_ [illustration: --_obtainable in 1/10, 1/5, 1/2 and 1 lb. tins at good dealers everywhere_] * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious unintentional spelling (canadian english) & punctuation errors repaired. vol. i july, 1921 no. 10 _the beaver a journal of progress_ [illustration: an h.b.c. fur brigade] _devoted to the interests of those who serve the hudson's bay company_ the "lords of the north" in annual conclave _commissioned officers of h.b.c. met in grand councils to formulate annual plans for administration of vast fur districts; a typical meeting in 1878_ by j. brown "lords of the north" was the appellation sometimes applied to those intrepid factors and chief factors of h.b.c. who for many years gathered in annual conclave at some central fort to arrange for the administration and provisioning of the great fur-trade districts. norway house, fort carlton on the saskatchewan, fort garry on the red and the "stone fort" were successively the meeting places of these ancient councils. when the season's furs had been gathered and stoutly baled and marked with the cryptic signs which destined them for the far-away auction mart at london--when the shouting, chanting fur brigades of the north went swinging away down roaring watercourses to meet the sailing ships on the great bay--just at this time the bearded chieftains of the inland districts mobilized their voluminous accounts, dried their goose quill pens and shot away in swift birchbarks to the grand council. some of these officers travelled a thousand miles; others, at more southerly stations had not far to go. but in any case their only carriers were the canoe, the york boat, the plodding oxen or the pony of the plains. the council was not usually complete until early july. then the grizzled veterans of the fur service sat down to "talk musquash" under the chairmanship of the chief commissioner, and in the space of a fortnight had deliberated upon the commerce and government of a wilderness empire and promulgated the specific orders that would control the victualing, the supply and the trade, the commercial, civic, industrial and religious life of the vast unplotted north country for another year. weighty problems of transport were solved at these historic meetings, so that the chain of h.b.c. communication might be unbroken; mail packets, freight and furs traversed the forest leagues and the expanse of mountain and prairie under "timetables" placed in effect by this council. and rare indeed was there instanced the loss of a package of merchandise or pelts--or even a letter--notwithstanding the extraordinary difficulties of travel, the storm and stress of climate. some idea of the plan under which the grand council operated may be conveyed by the following extracts from the minutes of a typical meeting of the factors and chief factors held at fort carlton, beginning the first of july, 1878: minutes of council, 1878 memoranda having reference to a meeting at carlton called by the chief commissioner for the purpose of receiving advice and information regarding the trade and requirements of the several districts in northern department from the officers in charge of the same commencing on the 1st day of july, 1878, at which the undermentioned qualified commissioned officers were present by request: richard hardisty, chief factor. lawrence clarke, chief factor. the following factors, chief trader and junior chief trader were also invited to attend: archibald mcdonald, factor. horace belanger, factor. wm. mckay, "c", factor. james mcdougall, chief trader. j. ogden grahame, junior chief factor. _article 1_--that the appointments of commissioned officers for the current outfit be as follows, viz.: mckenzie river--julian s. camsell, factor; john wilson, junior chief trader; charles f. gaudet, chief trader. peace river--james mcdougall, chief trader; alexr. mackenzie, "a" junior trader. athabasca--rodk. mcfarlane, chief factor: henry j. moberly, chief trader; john mcaulay, junior chief trader; william f. gairdner, junior chief trader. english river--ewen mcdonald, chief trader. edmonton--richard hardisty, chief factor. saskatchewan--lawrence clarke, chief factor; wm. mckay, "c" factor. cumberland--horace belanger, factor; pierre deschambeault, senior chief trader. [illustration: _an h.b.c. fur trade council at one of the north-central forts during the later years of the nineteenth century. the artist has here caught much of the facial likeness of such commissioned officers as mcdougall, camsell, mckay, mcdonald, livock and king, who were all present at the last council of the company's fur trade officers, held at athabasca landing, july, 1898._] grand rapids--alexander matheson, chief trader. norway house--roderick ross, factor. island lake--cuthbert sinclair, junior chief trader. york factory--joseph fortescue, factor. swan river--archibald mcdonald, factor; william j. mclean, junior chief trader. manitoba--wm. clarke, junior chief trader. red river--john h. mctavish, chief factor; wm. flett, chief trader; joseph j. hargrave, junior chief trader; duncan matheson, junior chief trader; alexr. christie, junior chief trader. lac la pluie--alexr. r. lillie, chief trader; james b. mckenzie, "a" junior chief trader. general service--george s. mctavish, inspt. chief factor; j. ogden grahame, junior chief trader. _article 2_--winter arrangements, 1878-9 _english river_ isle a la crosse--ewen mcdonald, chief trader; walter b. west, apprentice clerk; francois maurice, clerk. portage la loche--nicol sinclair, clerk; pierre laliberte, clerk. green lake--scott w. simpson, clerk. outpost--charles lafleur, interpreter. disposable--fredk. s. church, apprentice clerk. _article 3_--that 25 servants, including tradesmen and interpreters, and about 550 pieces of goods including winter allowances and servants' equipments constitute the current outfit of english river district, the goods to be conveyed inland via carlton and green lake. _article 4_--that the appointments of clerks and postmasters, summer 1879, be made by chief trader ewen mcdonald as he may deem expedient and that he be directed to superintend the transport of outfits and returns of a. & r. districts between green lake and portage la loche. _article 5_--that the country-made articles for english river district for outfit 1879 be provided at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 6_--winter arrangements, 1878-9. _edmonton_ edmonton house--richard hardisty, chief factor; john sinclair, clerk; frank wilson, clerk; wm. leslie wood, clerk. lac ste. anns--james kirkness, clerk. victoria--wm. r. brereton, clerk. bow river--angus fraser, interpreter. white fish lake--joseph nooskeyah, clerk. lesser slave lake--harrison s. young, clerk; charles anderson, interpreter. lac la biche--wm. e. traill, clerk. disposable--joseph favel, pilot. _article 7_--that 8 engaged and 4 temporary servants with about 800 pieces of goods including winter allowances and servants' equipments constitute the current outfit for the edmonton district, the goods to be conveyed from fort garry by steamers. _article 8_--that chief factor richard hardisty be instructed to assist saskatchewan district with country produce required for general service as far as his means will admit. _article 9_--that chief factor hardisty be authorized to make the necessary and proper arrangements for the summer business of the district, 1879, and to change the appointments of the clerks if he deem it necessary. _article 10_--that chief factor hardisty be instructed to be prepared to forward to lesser slave lake from 600 to 800 pieces of goods intended for the peace river and athabasca outfit, 1879, as early as possible after the same shall have reached edmonton and that he superintend the transport between edmonton and smoky river. _article 11_--that the following country produce be forwarded to lesser slave lake from edmonton for the transport service between that point and smoky river: 20 bags flour. 30 bags pemmican, each 100 pounds. 50 whole buffalo skins. _article 12_--that the following supplies for new caledonia outfit 1879 be forwarded from edmonton to peace river for delivery at hudson's hope on or before the 10th september, 1879: 350 whole buffalo skins. 300 lbs. common pemmican. 20 lbs. sinews. _article 13_--that the country-made articles required for the trade of edmonton district for outfit 1879 be provided at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 14_--winter arrangements, 1878-9 _saskatchewan_ carlton house--l. clarke, chief factor; george mccrum, clerk; jas. k. simpson, clerk; angus mckay, apprentice clerk. fort pitt--wm. mckay, "c" factor. cold lake--wm. mckay, "j" clerk. turtle lake--daniel villebrun, interpreter. battleford--august h. bastien, postmaster. prince albert--philip turner, clerk; colin mcintyre, apprentice clerk. fort a la corne--george goodfellow, clerk. _article 15_--that chief factor lawrence clarke be authorized to make the necessary and proper arrangements for the summer business of the district season 1879, including the forwarding of the outfit for the districts north of carlton and that he change the appointments of clerks in his district as he may deem necessary. _article 16_--that the following country produce be deposited at cumberland house in the spring of 1879 for the use of passing brigades and for the trade of that district: 200 bags common pemmican. 400 whole dressed buffalo skins. 50 large dressed moose skins. 8 leather tents, each 10 skins. _article 17_--that the following country produce be forwarded to green lake, autumn 1878, or spring of 1879, for transport service in english river district, season 1879, viz: 250 bags common pemmican, each 100 lbs. 400 whole dressed buffalo skins. 50 large dressed moose skins. 8 leather tents, each 10 skins. _article 18_--that the following country produce be furnished by the saskatchewan district, season 1878, for distribution 1879, among the districts of norway house, york factory and island lake, and that the same be forwarded to grand rapids for that purpose: 300 bags common pemmican, each 100 lbs. 20 leather tents, each 10 or 12 skins. 600 whole buffalo skins. 400 half buffalo skins. _article 19_--that the country-made articles for the saskatchewan district for outfit 1879 be provided at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 20_--that chief factor clarke be instructed to comply with no additional requisitions for country produce of any kind except he is satisfied there may be a hitch in the transport for the want of them. article 21--winter arrangements, 1878-9. _cumberland_ cumberland house--horace belanger, factor; nicol mcdougall, clerk. le pas--charles adams, clerk; robert ballendine, postmaster. moose lake--john mcdonald, "d" clerk. pelican narrows--john e. stewart, apprentice clerk; antoine morin, "b" interpreter. lac du brochet--pierre deschambeault, chief trader; pierre morin, postmaster. rapid river--philip mcdonald, clerk; angus mcleod, interpreter. disposable--joseph hourston, postmaster. _article 22_--that 20 servants and 700 pieces of goods, including winter allowances and servants' equipments, constitute the current outfit for cumberland district, the goods to be conveyed from fort garry by steamers. _article 23_--that factor belanger be authorized to make the necessary arrangements for the summer business of the district, season 1879, and that he change the appointments of commissioned officers and clerks in his district as he may deem necessary. _article 24_--that factor belanger be instructed to forward to norway house, spring 1879, the following country produce, viz: 50 lbs. large snowshoe netting. 50 lbs. small snowshoe netting. _article 25_--that factor belanger take measures to have rendered at portage la loche, summer 1879, on or about 25th july but not later than 1st august, 8 boat loads, each boat load to consist of 75 pieces of the athabasca outfit which will be landed from the steamer "northcote" at cumberland, and that on the return trip the crews of the 8 boats be engaged to take in each boat not less than 50 packs furs and deliver the same at the grand rapid should the steamer "northcote" have ceased running. _article 26_--that the country-made articles for cumberland district, outfit 1879, be provided at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 27_--winter arrangements, 1878-9. _grand rapids_ grand rapids--alex. matheson, chief trader; colin thompson, apprentice clerk. _article 28_--that chief trader alexander matheson be instructed to receive at the grand rapids all goods intended for the northern districts that may be sent there and have conveyed by the steamer northcote to cumberland the goods intended for that district and 600 pieces of those intended for athabasca district, sending to carlton by the same steamer the goods intended for the districts of saskatchewan, english river, edmonton, peace river and mckenzie river as well as the remainder of those intended for "i." _article 29_--that the country-made articles for grand rapids district for outfit 1879 be provided for at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 30_--summer arrangements, 1878-9. _norway house_ norway house--roderick ross, factor; d. c. mctavish, clerk; james flett, "c" apprentice clerk; walter franklin, apprentice clerk. nelson river--wm. isbister, clerk. berens river--james flett, "b" clerk. [illustration: "_playmates of the north._" _this chubby lad, who seems to have the entire confidence of the lead dog of the team, is the son of mr. john j. loutit, post manager at fort chipewyan._] grand rapids--john moar, postmaster. poplar river--alex. stout, postmaster. disposable--john c. sinclair, postmaster. _article 31_--that 20 servants and 650 pieces of goods, including winter allowances and servants' equipment, constitute the current outfit for norway house district and that the outfit be conveyed from fort garry by steamer or otherwise as most convenient. _article 32_--that factor roderick ross be instructed to forward per boats to the grand rapids, summer 1879, any goods on depot at norway house intended for the trade of the northern districts outfit as early as navigation will permit and have brought back from there to norway house any returns or country produce intended for the supply of norway house, island lake or york factory districts or for shipment to england from the latter place. _article 33_--that factor ross be instructed to make arrangements with factor fortescue as to the number of boats requisite to bring up from the factory any gunpowder or other articles intended for shipment inland and avail himself of the freight room downwards to forward to the factory as large a portion as possible of the returns of norway house district besides any castorum, buffalo tongues and quills received from other districts for shipment to london, after providing for the country produce intended for island lake and york factory. _article 34_--that the country-made articles for norway house district for outfit 1879 be provided at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 35_--winter and summer arrangements, 1878-9 _island lake_ oxford house--cuthbert sinclair, junior chief trader. island lake--thos. m. linklater, clerk. _article 36_--that 8 servants and 320 pieces of goods constitute the current outfit for island lake district, the same to be conveyed from york factory by the oxford house boats and provided for in york factory requisition. _article 37_--that the island lake boats make one round trip between norway house and york factory, summer 1878, laden with such cargoes as the officers in charge of these districts may have to go forward should they be required to do so. _article 38_--winter and summer arrangements 1878-9 _york factory_ york factory--joseph fortescue, factor; john k. mcdonald, clerk; a. o. t. bennett, apprentice clerk; james cowie, apprentice clerk; george grieve, postmaster. severn--john taylor, postmaster. trout lake--james tod, clerk. churchill--john r. spencer, clerk. _article 39_--that 35 servants, including mechanics, constitute the summer and winter establishments of york factory district and that the outfits and returns of the posts of severn and trout lake be transported in the usual manner and those of churchill landed from and shipped in the annual vessel from london which is directed to call at churchill on its way out to york factory. _article 40_--that factor fortescue be instructed to have in readiness, spring 1879, for shipment to oxford house the outfit intended for the trade of island lake district, 1879, and that he direct mr. cuthbert sinclair to send to york factory by boats the returns of island lake district as early in the summer as possible providing at the same time a sufficient number of men and boats for the transport of the outfit for 1879. _article 41_--that factor fortescue be instructed to forward to norway house as opportunity offers the gunpowder and country-made articles on hand at york factory (exclusive of beads, country-made articles, etc.) which are set aside for the inland districts. _article 42_--winter arrangements, 1878-9. _manitoba_ oak point--wm. clark, junior chief trader; geo. f. kinnaird, apprentice clerk. manitoba house--isaac cowie, clerk. water hen river--alexr. munro, clerk. shoal river--donald mcdonald, "a" clerk. fairford--an interpreter. _article 43_--that junior chief trader william clark be authorized to make the necessary and proper arrangements for the summer business of the district, season 1879, and change the disposal of the clerks if he may think it necessary. _article 44_--that 4 servants and 300 pieces of goods, including winter allowances and servants' equipments, constitute the current outfit of manitoba district and be imported via st. paul to fort garry and thence by carts to oak point. _article 45_--that the live stock on inventory in manitoba district be priced at their market value in the district, less 33-1/3% article 46--that junior chief trader william clark be instructed to procure at fairford and forward to berens river for the use of norway house district, summer 1879: 20 fathoms birch bark for canoe bottoms. 20 fathoms birch bark for canoe sides. _article 47_--that the country-made articles for manitoba district, outfit 1879, be provided at fort garry, summer 1878. _article 48_--winter and summer arrangements, 1878-9 _swan river_ fort ellice--archibald mcdonald, factor; david armit, clerk; hugh mcbeath, clerk. riding mountain--james c. andy, clerk. qu'appelle--wm. j. mclean, junior chief trader; george dreyer, postmaster. fort pelly--adam mcbeath, clerk; john calder, apprentice clerk. touchwood hills--angus mcbeath, clerk; thomas w. lillie, apprentice clerk. egg lake--henry mckay, clerk. _article 49_--that 10 servants and 800 pieces of goods, including winter allowances and servants' equipments, constitute the current outfit of swan river district and be imported via st. paul to fort garry and thence by carts to the district. _article 50_--that factor archibald mcdonald be authorized to make the necessary and proper arrangements for the summer business of the district, season 1879, and change the disposal of clerks if he may think it is necessary. (_note_--articles 51 to 107 of the minutes are of a similar nature to the foregoing.) little journeys to fur trade posts of the hudson's bay co. hudson's hope post, b.c. by john gregg the post is situated at the head of navigation on the peace river. from here to vermillion there is good water for stern-wheelers and gasoline boats, for five hundred fifty miles. immediately to the west is the famous rocky mountain canyon, which makes a horseshoe of twenty-five miles; and from the head of the canyon to finlay forks there is another good stretch of water. the peace river here cuts through the butler range, the most easterly range of the rockies. the climate is excellent. in winter chinook winds break up the cold snaps. the extreme minimum last winter was 45 below on two nights. in summer, the maximum sometimes rises over 90. one peculiarity is that during winter there are no winds excepting the warm chinooks. the country generally is well wooded. many streams are unexcelled for fly-fishing. at moberly lake (15 miles south) trout very often scale more than 35 pounds. the "town" consists of the honourable company's buildings, postoffice, telegraph, police offices and the freighter. close in are several homesteaders. there is also a meteorological station, deputy mining recorder's post and hydrometric station. during the summer business is brisk, for usually there are government geological parties in the field, tourists passing through and trappers going outside to "blow in their wads." in winter things are somewhat dull, for there are not enough indians to keep business steady. then it is that the violin, gramophone and h.b.c. library are called on to relieve _ennui_ in the evenings, for there is no theatre nearer than edmonton. for industrial possibilities, hudson's hope undoubtedly occupies a strategic position. it is known that extensive bodies of the hardest soft coal in the world are in the immediate vicinity, but owing to lack of transport facilities they have not been worked to any extent. some gold is found forty miles west on branham flat and a few outfits will be in this summer to work there. a marvellous mountain of copper and silver was reported up north some two years ago, but for some reason or another nothing definite has transpired regarding it. for the past three years government geologists have been examining the vicinity for oil possibilities and their reports have been so good as to lead one or two drilling outfits this way. although all grains and vegetables grow here to perfection the agricultural aspect of the country is not to be enthused over, for the arable land is along the river bank only. a cattle ranch has started on the south fork of the halfway river. it should be added that the river invariably opens for navigation the first week in may. this year the spring was early--bluebirds and robins on the 8th of april, geese on the 12th, with poplars in bud. discovery and exploration of the yukon (pelly) river by robert campbell, f.r.g.s. (_former h.b.c. chief factor_) _note--sir george simpson expressed his satisfaction regarding these explorations in a letter to mr. campbell, the author, and spoke of the arrangement made by h.b.c. with russia for a great stretch of alaskan territory. the letter follows:_ red river settlement, 16th june, 1839. to r. campbell, esq., fort halkett. dear sir: i have much pleasure in acknowledging receipt of your letter of 17th september, and have to express my entire satisfaction with your management in the recent voyage down the pelly or stickine river, bearing ample evidence that the confidence reposed in you was well placed. i was always of the opinion that the pelly and stickine rivers were identical, but many of my friends in this country thought differently. you have at length, however, set the question at rest, and your writing the note to our gentlemen on the coast was very judicious. i last winter concluded an arrangement for the company with baron wrangle, acting on behalf of the russian-american company, by which we become possessed of the whole of the russian mainland territory (for a term of ten years) up to cape spencer. by that means we become possessed of their establishment situated on point highfield, entrance of stickine river, immediately, and have access to the interior country through all the rivers falling into the pacific to the southward of cape spencer. this arrangement renders it unnecessary for us now to extend our operations from the east side of the mountains or mackenzie river, as we can settle that country from the pacific with greater facility and at less expense. your services will now therefore be required to push our discoveries in the country situated on the peel and colville rivers and i am quite sure you will distinguish yourself as much in that quarter as you have latterly done on the west side of the mountains. with best wishes, believe me, very truly yours, (signed) george simpson. the yukon is the largest river that flows from the american continent into the pacific ocean. rising as the pelly in the rocky mountains on the northern frontier of british columbia, it maintains a westerly direction for several hundred miles. it crosses the 141st meridian, which forms the eastern boundary of alaska, and holding a northwest course for more than six hundred miles, it is joined by the porcupine river from the north. up to this point it is called the pelly, but for the remaining 1200 miles of its course to its embouchure in behring sea it is known as the yukon. after the failure of previous efforts to establish a hudson's bay company's trading post at dease's lake, i volunteered my services for that purpose; and in the spring of 1839, after overcoming many difficulties, i succeeded in my mission, and then crossed over the mountains to the west side, where i struck the source of a rapid river, which i ascertained from the hordes of indians i met to be the stikene (afterwards the great highway to the northern gold fields of british columbia), a discovery which caused no small commotion and surprise at the time among h.b.c. men, especially from the fact that a young man with only a half-breed and two indian lads had effected what had baffled well-equipped parties under prominent and experienced hudson's bay officers from both sides of the mountains. this led to part of the coast being leased by the company from the russian government. on returning to dease's lake, we passed a winter of constant danger from the savage russian indians and of much suffering from starvation. we were dependent for subsistence on what animals we could catch, and, failing that, on "tripe de roche." we were at one time reduced to such dire straits that we were obliged to eat our parchment windows, and our last meal before abandoning dease's lake, on 8th may, 1839, consisted of the lacing of our snowshoes. in the spring of 1840 i was appointed by sir george simpson to explore the north branch of the liard river to its source, and to cross the rocky mountains and try to find any river flowing westward, especially the headwaters of the colville, the mouth of which was in the arctic ocean, discovered by dease and simpson. in pursuance of these instructions i left fort halkett in may with a canoe and seven men, among them my trusty indians, lapie and kitza, and the interpreter hoole. after ascending the stream some hundreds of miles, far into the mountains, we entered a beautiful lake, which i named frances lake, in honor of lady simpson. the river thus far is rather serpentine, with a swift current, and is flanked on both sides by chains of mountains, which rise to a higher altitude in the background. the country is well wooded with poplar, spruce, pine, fir and birch. game and fur-bearing animals are abundant, especially beaver, on the meat of which, with moose, deer, geese and ducks, we generally lived. the mountain trout are very fine and plentiful, and are easily taken with a hook and any bait. about five miles farther on the lake divides into two branches round "simpson's tower." the south, which is the longer branch, extends forty miles. leaving the canoe and part of the crew near the southwest extremity of this branch, i set out with three indians and the interpreter. shouldering our blankets and guns, we ascended the valley of a river which we traced to its source in a lake ten miles long, which, with the river, i named finlayson's lake and river. the lake is situated so near the watershed that in high floods its waters flow from both ends down both sides of the mountains towards the arctic on the one hand and the pacific on the other. from this point we descended the west slope of the rocky mountains, and on the second day from finlayson's lake we had the satisfaction of seeing from a high bank a splendid river in the distance. i named the bank from which we caught the first glimpse of the river "pelly banks," and the river "pelly river," after our home governor, sir h. pelly. i may mention, in passing, that sir george simpson in a kind letter called them both after me, "campbell's banks and river," but in my reply i disclaimed all knowledge of any such places. after reaching the actual bank of the river, we constructed a raft, on which we embarked and drifted down a few miles on the bosom of the stream, and at parting we cast in a sealed tin can with memoranda of our discovery and the date. highly delighted with our success, we retraced our steps to frances lake, where we rejoined the rest of our party, who during our absence had built a house on the point at the forks of the lake which we called "glenlyon." returning, we reached fort halkett (on liard river) about the 10th of september, and forwarded the report of our trip by the party who brought up our outfit. [illustration] the company now resolved to follow up these discoveries, and with this view i was ordered in 1841 to establish a trading post on frances lake so as to be ready for future operations westward. in 1842, birch bark for the construction of a large canoe to be used in exploring the pelly was brought up from fort liard with the outfit, and during the winter was sent over the mountains by dogsleighs to pelly banks, where the necessary buildings were put up, and the canoe was built in the spring of 1843. early in june, i left frances lake with some of the men. we walked over the mountains to pelly banks, and shortly after i started down stream in the canoe with the interpreter hoole, two french canadians and three indians. as we advanced, the river increased in size and the scenery formed a succession of picturesque landscapes. about twenty-five miles from pelly banks we encountered a bad rapid--"hoole's"--where we were forced to disembark everything; but elsewhere we had a nice flowing current. ranges of mountains flanked us on both sides; on the right hand the mountains were generally covered with wood; the left range was more open, with patches of poplar running up the valleys and burnsides, reminding one of the green braeface of the highland glens. we frequently saw moose and bear as we passed along, and at points where the precipice rose abruptly from the waters edge the wild sheep--"big horn"--were often seen on the shelving rocks. they are very keen-sighted, and when once alarmed they file swiftly and gracefully over the mountain. when we chanced to get one we found it splendid eating--delicate enough for an epicure. in this manner we travelled on for several days. we saw only one family of indians--"knife" indians--till we reached the junction of the pelly with a tributary which i named the lewis. here we found a large camp of indians--the "wood" indians. we took them by no ordinary surprise, as they had never seen a white man before, and they looked upon us and everything about us with some awe as well as curiosity. two of their chiefs, father and son, were very tall, stout, handsome men. we smoked the pipe of peace together, and i distributed some presents. they spoke in loud tones as do all indians in their natural state, but they seemed kind and peaceable. when we explained to them as best we could that we were going down stream, they all raised their voices against it. among other dangers, they indicated that inhabiting the lower river were many tribes of "bad" indians--"numerous as the sand"--"who would not only kill us, but eat us." we should never get back alive, and friends coming to look after us would unjustly blame them for our death. all this frightened our men to such a degree that i had reluctantly to consent to our return, which under the circumstances was the only alternative. i learned afterwards that it would have been madness in us to have made any further advance, unprepared as we were for such an enterprise. [illustration: _dinnertime on the east coast of hudson bay. h.b.c. "tripping" party enjoying a snack at sixty degrees below--with gloves on!_] much depressed, we that afternoon retraced our course upstream; but before doing so i launched on the river a sealed can containing memoranda of our trip. i was so dejected at the unexpected turn of affairs that i was perfectly heedless of what was passing; but on the third day of our upward progress i noticed on both sides of the river fires burning on the hill-tops far and near. this awoke me to a sense of our situation. i conjectured that, as in scotland in the olden time, these were signal-fires and that they summoned the indians to surround and intercept us. thus aroused, we made the best use of paddle and "tracking-line" to get up stream and ahead of the indian signals. on the fourth morning we came to a party of indians on the further bank of the river. they made signs to us to cross over, which we did. they were very hostile, watching us with bows bent and arrows in hand and would not come down from the top of the high bank to the water's edge to meet us. i sent up a man with some tobacco--the emblem of peace--to reassure them; but at first they would hardly remove their hands from their bows to receive it. we ascended the bank to them and had a most friendly interview, carried on by words and signs. it required, however, some finesse and adroitness to get away from them. once in the canoe we quickly pushed out and struck obliquely for the opposite bank, so as to be out of range of their arrows, and i faced about, gun in hand, to observe their actions. the river was there too broad either for ball or arrow. we worked hard during the rest of the day and until late. the men were tired out, and i made them all sleep in my tent while i kept watch. at that season the night is so clear that one can read, write or work throughout. our camp lay on the bank of the river at the base of a steep declivity which had large trees here and there up its grassy slope. in the branches of one of these trees i passed the greater part of this anxious night, reading "_hervey's meditations_" and keeping a vigilant lookout. occasionally i descended and walked to the river bank, but all was still. two years afterwards, when friendly relations had been established with the indians in this district, i learned to my no small astonishment that the hostile tribe encountered down the river had dogged us all day, and when we halted for the night had encamped behind the crest of the hill, and from this retreat had watched my every movement. with the exactitude of detail characteristic of indians they described me sitting in the tree holding "something white" (the book) in my hand, and often raising my eyes to make a survey of the neighborhood; then, descending to the river bank, taking my horn cup from my belt, and even while i drank glancing up and down the river and towards the hill. they confessed that had i knelt down to drink they would have rushed upon me and drowned me in the swift current and after thus despatching me would have massacred the sleeping inmates of my tent. how often without knowing it are we protected from danger by the merciful hand of providence! next morning we were early in motion and were glad to observe that we had outwitted the indians and outstripped their signal-fires. after this we travelled more at leisure, hunting as we advanced, and in due time reached frances lake. for a few years after this we confined our operations to trading between frances lake and pelly banks; but during the summer we sent hunting parties down to pelly to collect provisions for our establishments; and by this means we obtained accurate information respecting the pelly river, its resources and indian tribes. in the winter of 1847-8 we built boats at pelly banks and, sending off our returns to fort simpson, we started off early in june, 1848, to establish a post at the forks of pelly and lewis rivers, which i named fort selkirk. ever since our discovery of the pelly in 1840 various conjectures were hazarded as to what river it really was and where it entered the sea. fort yukon was, i think, established in 1847, from peel river near the mouth of the mackenzie. from the first i expressed my belief, in which hardly anyone concurred, that the pelly and the yukon were identical. in 1850, having obtained sir george simpson's permission, i explored the lower river, descending a distance of about 1200 miles and by reaching fort yukon proved the correctness of my opinion. from fort yukon i directed my boat and party upwards into the porcupine river. i was accompanied by mr. murray, who was conveying the returns and whose duty it was to take back with him the yukon outfit from la pierre's house at the head of the porcupine river, to which point supplies were transported over the mountains in winter by dogsleighs from peel river. la pierre's house duly reached, we left our boat there and walked over the mountains to peel river, about ninety miles; thence by boat we ascended the mackenzie river to fort simpson. i thus performed a circuit of several thousand miles from my point of departure on the liard river. great astonishment was felt by all my friends and acquaintances when they saw me reach fort simpson by coming up the mackenzie river instead of descending the liard, for no one entertained a suspicion that the pelly river had any connection with the yukon or that the pelly was linked with the porcupine, peel and mackenzie rivers. thenceforward this new route, so unexpectedly found out, was made the highway for the transport of outfits to, and results of trade from the pelly and all intermediate posts. when i visited england in 1853 this vast stretch of country--until then a blank on the map and untrodden and unknown of white men--was under my direction correctly delineated on his map of north america by j. arrowsmith, hudson's bay company's topographer; and hence it happens that many of these rivers and places of note are named after my friends or after the rivers in my native glens. [illustration: _chipewyan indians returned to h.b.c. post with a fine bag of the great grey geese that flock in thousands over lake athabasca._] i may mention that in these explorations, which embraced a period of fifteen years, we had to rely for the means of existence almost entirely on the natural resources of the scene of our operations, however dreary and barren a region it might be. we were once cut off from all supplies and connection with our people, to the extreme peril of our lives, for over two years--from may, 1848, till september, 1850--during which time we received neither a letter nor supplies, and the opening up of communication with the outside world was ultimately brought about by our own unaided and determined efforts in the face of appalling obstacles. the pelly-yukon is a magnificent river, increasing in size as it is joined by the many affluents that swell its tide. it sweeps in a gentle, serpentine course round the spurs of the double mountain range that generally skirts each side of the valley. of these twin ranges the more distant is the loftier. many of its summits are dotted with wreaths of snow, while others wear a perpetual mantle of white. at a distance of some forty-five miles from yukon the mountains recede, the river widens and for miles wanders among countless islands. many of the pelly's tributaries are large streams--especially the m'millan, lewis, white, and stewart rivers. four kinds of salmon ascend the river in great numbers in their season; and then comes a busy harvest time for the indians, who assemble in large camps along the river and handle their spears with great dexterity. large numbers of salmon are killed, some for present and some for winter use. this fish has been seen and killed above pelly banks, which is more than two thousand miles from the sea. steamers from the pacific have already ascended to fort yukon (twelve hundred miles); and during the freshet they can ascend more than twelve hundred miles further (to hoole's rapid). the lakes all over the country abound in excellent white fish. the fauna of the country is abundant and varied. it includes moose and reindeer, bears (black and grizzly), wolves and wolverines, rats and hares, the fox and lynx, the beaver, the mink, and the marten. i saw the bones, heads and horns of buffaloes; but this animal had become extinct before our visit, as had also some species of elephant, whose remains were found in various swamps. i forwarded an elephant's thigh bone to the british museum, where it may still be seen. the flora of the country is rich and diversified. i forwarded several specimens of the vegetation to sir william j. hooker, director of the kew gardens, i also sent him specimens of all the rocks from yukon to pelly banks. the climate is more pleasant and genial than in the same latitude on the east side of the mountains. aged fur trader moves h. j. moberly, 86, fur trader in the employ of the hudson's bay company for thirty-seven years, passed through edmonton, june 15th, on his way from cedarvale, b.c., to his home at duck lake, sask. this aged veteran of the h.b.c. fur trade service has the distinction of having seen edmonton at an earlier date than any living white man. he reached the saskatchewan at edmonton in 1854, sixty-seven years ago. mr. moberly has been staying for the past year at the fruit ranch of his son, forty miles west of hazelton, b.c. _published monthly by the hudson's bay company for their employees throughout the service_ [illustration] the beaver "_a journal of progress_" copyright, 1921, by the hudson's bay company address all communications to editor, "the beaver," york and main streets, winnipeg, canada. vol. i july, 1921 no. 10 a national flag for canada canada has no flag; a startling assertion, but true. the dominion emblem so familiar to canadians is a marine ensign authorized by the imperial government many years ago _for use on canada's merchant shipping_. no flag has ever been officially adopted by the canadian people. among designs submitted for a distinctive canadian flag, one which most appeals to the sense of fitness displays the union jack in the upper left quarter and nine blue stars in the form of the great dipper and north star on a field of white in the remaining three quarters. one star for each province, in the form of the familiar constellation of the northland, sealed with the symbol of empire! the antipodean dominion of new zealand has the southern cross on a field of red, with the union jack, for her official flag. this design was adopted from several hundred submitted by citizens. canada too should have a flag of her own--an emblem to emphasize her essential nationhood--of a design that will connote her stewardship of this north portal of the empire. carrying water a motorist, mired down on a country road, asked a passing lad with a team to pull him out. paying the boy's price of two dollars the car owner remarked, "well, son, do you make much money at this sort of thing?" "you are the fifth i have pulled out to-day," replied the boy. "i should work nights, too, at that rate," said the motorist. "i do," said the boy, "at night i haul water for the mud-hole." in business many young men are like the boy and the mud-hole. they have a single eye to making the job _last_. fixed in a situation with certain routine things to do they lose ambition and are chiefly concerned with stretching their duties to fill a day. no origination. no progress. no increasing of efficiency to fit themselves for greater responsibilities. they are "carrying water" in this blind way oftentimes until it's too late to stride out into bigger things. don't "carry water." mend the road, and find a way to speed up traffic. the pay will be higher and the work more satisfying. arena lust the day of the gladiator is not past. near new york this month the pugilistic champion of the united states, for the consideration of merely a million dollars, will stand up for something less than an hour to pummel and be pummeled by the pugilistic champion of europe. nearly seventy thousand fervid partisans will look on, eating peanuts--primordially yelling for blood. among them, it is said, will be hundreds who figure prominently in bradstreet's, the blue book and the society column. gentlewomen will be there--in the fifty dollar seat section. roustabouts and longshoremen, barristers, doctors and preachers, business men and government officials--and small boys roosting in neighboring trees--all with "thumbs down" when one bruiser weakens. who is there to stop wars and rumors of wars while the spirit of the gladiatorial combat is thus rampant in human society, breaking through the carefully laid veneer of civilization? h.b.c. enters consignment fur business _company takes over warehouses of defunct nesbitt firm; will strengthen london market_ by pro pelle one of the most interesting events in the fur trade last month was the announcement by the hudson's bay company of its intention to accept consignments of skins for sale at its london auctions. the news came as a surprise to many, as it has long been known that the famous old company took particular pride in offering no skins for sale at its auctions save those collected by its own posts and graded with that excellency which has earned for the company the reputation of setting an accepted standard for all skins. to those who are familiar with the past history of h.b.c., the news did not come altogether as a surprise. the company has demonstrated on many occasions in the past that it does not hesitate to reverse its decisions and alter its policies when the changes wrought by time and economic progress in the domain of the company make such changes a business necessity. many in the fur trade wondered why the company did not enter the consignment business sooner but the sequence of events has since demonstrated that by keeping out of that end of the business until after the speculators had had their fling, the company was able to enter on the "ground floor," so to speak, and with everything in its favor. the establishment of great fur auction companies in st. louis, new york and montreal tended to deprive london of its old-time prestige, and, naturally, anything that detracted from the influence of the london fur market also affected the hudson's bay company. with the passing of the famous old firm of nesbitt, the london fur market lost one of the best-known consignment houses in the world. this house was particularly happy in its connection with the american trade and enjoyed the confidence and respect of the best american firms. when the nesbitt firm was forced to liquidate in order to save as much as possible for its clients, it was felt that the london market had lost one of its landmarks and was, to a certain extent, weakened in its uphill fight to regain its leadership in the fur trade. by taking over the warehouses and offices of the nesbitt company and announcing its willingness to accept consignments of fur skins, the hudson's bay company carries on where nesbitt ltd. left off. h.b.c. will now be in a position to hold its auctions on its own premises. the london market will be made all the stronger by the entrance of the company as a consignment house, as it will naturally follow that the class of goods consigned will have to be up to a fine standard and will only be accepted from reputable and first-class firms. by taking the lead in the london market, by setting the standard for all the trade, both in goods and in business principles, by inducing the best firms to send their best goods to the london market, by eliminating speculative bidding and by having great financial strength and sound business methods back of it, the hudson's bay company has once more proved its ability to come through all kinds of trials and tribulations with flying colors. impressions of the store managers' conference by f. f. harker being comparatively a newcomer with the hudson's bay company, judging by the long records of service of other managers present, i felt deeply moved by the cordial spirit of comradeship shown me by my co-partners. i was greatly impressed by the frank way we were received by the canadian advisory committee. the conference was a remarkable one in many ways. it created a precedent, insofar that it was the first time in the history of the company that managers of the many h.b.c. stores were gathered together for consultation, advice and mutual benefit. i feel that this conference will prove the forerunner of an era of singular prosperity to the company and of increased efficiency throughout the company's stores. humorous extracts from some official letters written in all seriousness and not in the least intended to be humorous by c. c. sinclair in an official letter from an outpost manager the activities of the opposition were reported upon as follows: "_the opposition ain't raisin' no 'ell._" by which it was assumed that the outpost manager was holding his own. "_dear brother and fellow superior:_ "_i have spent a lonely and dissolute_ (meaning desolate) _winter, owing to the loss of two good hunters and a beloved wife._" * * * * * "..._the canoes you sent up last fall arrived safely. everything was in order with the exception of one or two destitute items in the displacement._" * * * * * "_i am very thankful for the increase of salary accorded to me by the commissioner. now that i have my new eyes_ (meaning glasses) _i am able to see better, and my new teeth help me to masticate my food better, which aids the "deegestion" and keeps me in better health so that i can do more work now. now i think i am capable of taking charge of a much larger post than the one i am at._" * * * * * "_i could not make my cash agree with the books, but it agrees now, because i made an entry 'to cast to cook the account, $60.00.'_" * * * * * "_i am sorry that i caused you so much worry last fall when i wrote you that i was at death's door and asking you to send my successor, as i expected soon to enter the pearly gates._ "_i am sorry to say i recovered soon after and the black suit i asked for to be buried in was not required. i had no mourning envelopes on hand, so i blackened the edges of an official envelope with ink, to advise you befittingly of my approaching demise._" * * * * * "_hereafter i am to receive my instructions from fort ----. i am sorry to leave you. we have differed sometimes about the orders issued from time to time, but i have endeavoured to carry out the instructions when i thought they were for the good of the post._" * * * * * "some reputation" in looking over an old hudson's bay wharf with a view to repairs, the contractor remarked: "well! the piles are so badly eaten away, i'm hanged if i know what keeps the wharf up." a bystander promptly replied: "nothing but the company's reputation is keeping up that wharf, sir." suggestion competition--labrador district in connection with awards made in the 250th anniversary suggestion competition (fur trade department) it is to be noted that h.b.c. men in hudson's straits and ungava (labrador district) were without the opportunity of participating, owing to their extreme isolation in the far north. first word of the competition was conveyed to these men by the company's supply ship in august, 1920. with the landing of the supplies and preparation of the annual accounts, there was no opportunity for the men to write out their suggestions before the sailing of the supply ship on her homeward voyage. since that time there has been no communication whatever with these posts. it is regretted that owing to the short time between the receipt of the instructions regarding the competition and the date by which replies were to be in winnipeg it was impossible for northern labrador posts to participate. fort mcmurray news _the h.b.c. motor tug_ "nechemus," left mcmurray for the north on may 12th, laden with horses and wagons together with the season's first shipment of freight for fitzgerald. _the h.b.s.s. "fort mcmurray"_ sailed on may 13th on her second trip, bound for fitzgerald with a hundred and twenty tons of supplies for the northern posts. passengers on the steamer included: j. g. m. christie and wife, who are going to mcpherson and back. mr. christie is a retired employee of the company and is looking forward to renewing old acquaintances with h.b.c. men along the mackenzie. mrs. c. c. sinclair, with miss sinclair, are going down to mcpherson, and will join mr. sinclair, manager of athabasca-mackenzie district. bishop lucas, of the anglican diocese of mackenzie, was on his way to the land of the midnight sun. the bishop spent the winter in the old country, and is bound for his headquarters at chipewyan. h.b.c. fur trade post on san francisco bay, 1824 _company did not own million acres of california land, as reported, but had two fur posts and farms, closed in 1832-49._ by c. h. french _note.--in a leading western canadian newspaper we read: "it is not commonly known that at one time the hudson's bay company owned a million acres of land in california surrounding the present site of the city of san francisco. the importance of the great harbour now known as the golden gate was not recognized and the area was sold for one dollar an acre."_ when in 1824, shortly after the amalgamation of h.b.c. with the northwest company, the fur brigades under sir george simpson swept to the verge of the pacific, north, west and southwest, the flag of h.b.c. was carried far down the california coast. one new fur trading establishment was planted by the company at the golden gate san francisco bay; another was erected at umpqua, not many miles to the northward. up to 1820 the only fur post on the pacific coast between sitka, alaska, and southern california was fort george. this post had been first opened by astor of new york, but was taken over by h.b.c. at the time of the amalgamation with the nor'westers. meanwhile it had been re-christened "fort george" by captain black of h.m.s. "raccoon" in 1813. from fort william at the head of the great lakes came dr. john mclaughlin, james douglas and john work, ordered by the company to fort george to take charge of the newly created western department of the h.b.c. fur trade. dr. mclaughlin was in charge, james douglas was accountant and john work was what might be termed an explorer. dr. mclaughlin was a versatile man, but leaned towards the development of farming and stockraising, while john work's only interest was in fur trading. in 1824 they arrived at fort george and at once mapped out plans for development of their department. it was decided to abandon fort george because the farming possibilities of the neighbourhood were not so promising as those of the country further up the river. a new site was selected just below the willamette river, and the construction of fort vancouver (washington) was commenced. at that time the whole territory was known as oregon territory. the country was also known as columbia district, and when the boundary line between canada and the united states was established, the part to the north of the line was named british columbia district, and still retains this name in the company's organization. in order to stock the newly established farms, the company sent men south for sheep, cattle and horses, and i believe that it was on this account that posts were opened at umpqua and san francisco bay in 1824 or 1825, and operated until 1832, when they were abandoned and there is nothing in the records to indicate that the hudson's bay company ever afterwards claimed one foot of soil in or around san francisco. in fact, there is information that would make it appear that the san francisco bay post alone was closed in 1832 and umpqua not until a later date, as a letter written by sir george simpson to captain j. sheppard, r.n., dated 28th may, 1849, mentions umpqua as being still in existence. sir george said the names of posts west of the mountains were at that time: _american territory, south of 49â°_ fort colville, flat head house, fort okanagan, fort nez perces, fort bois, fort hall, fort vancouver, fort umpqua, fort george, fort nisqually, cowlitz farm. _british territory, north of 49â°_ victoria, simpson, langley, hope, kamloops, thomson, alexandria, george, fraser, st. james, connolly, kilmaurs (babine), mcleod, chilcotin. europeans employed at these posts numbered six hundred, besides hundreds of indian laborers. there were seven vessels employed in the service: 3 barques, carrying goods to and from europe, 1 steam vessel 1 brig 1 schooner 1 sloop in order to take care of the russian american company's and the h.b.c. posts' requirements, large farms and dairies were necessary, and suitable land was plentiful between the puget's sound and the columbia river. when the negotiations between the hudson's bay company and the united states government were under way to settle the oregon dispute, the company claimed 160,000 acres of land as being farmed and grazed by them. there has undoubtedly been a tendency on the part of historians and newspaper writers to confuse the company's oregon land claim with the lands at the h.b.c. san francisco bay post, but there is absolutely no connection. h.b.c. aided wilderness wanderer the following letter of appreciation was recently received by the company from j. p. burns, an engineer who met with misfortune in the wilds of british columbia: "_because of a serious accident last fall i was compelled to call at one of your trading posts situated at the junction of the dease river and liard, run by mr. f. j. bass. mr. bass did all in his power for me at a time when i was almost destitute and in a very low state of health owing to a broken bone in my right foot and a bad wound on my right side. i wish you would thank mr. bass for his hospitality and hope and trust that the hudson's bay company will long remain and prosper in regions where engineers and dogs struggle for life and civilization._ _yours faithfully, j. p. burns._ pas mountain post news by alex horne the excitement which always prevails during the breakup around this reserve was perhaps of a more serious nature this spring than previous years. usually the carrot river on the banks of which the post is situated, overflows every other second year or so, but this time the flood proved to be a record. the ice broke up on the 23rd of april and started going out on the 26th. during that day it travelled well. as it was the first breakup i had ever witnessed, the sight was most interesting and fascinating. some of the blocks, i estimated, were perhaps ninety by thirty feet and eighteen to twenty inches thick. these huge blocks were to cause us a considerable amount of discomfort before the day was over. towards evening it was noticed that the ice was travelling very slowly on the east bend of the river. as the river flows directly south past the post and then takes a turn east, our view for over a mile is fairly good. we watched with strained eyes and beating hearts, for already the water was rising. ah! yes, it was only too true, there was a jam! soon the water was coming over in front of the house. immediate action was necessary. canoes had to be attended to, boards, posts, boxes and barrels moved to a place of safety. [illustration: _the swirling waters in front of the store._] very soon the water was making a noise like a waterfall and sweeping everything before it. in a short time the sidewalk was trying to pilot its way through the garden gate. a cord of wood made an effort to follow suit but did not succeed. that night the roaring waters sang us to sleep. all day the ice and driftwood kept going by. at 7 o'clock in the evening the post was completely surrounded by water and a canoe was for the next few days to be our only mode of travelling. towards twilight the last of the ice and driftwood passed. we gave a sigh of relief and were about to retire when our attention was attracted by a noise in the bush on the opposite bank of the river; on looking, it was no little surprise to see a birch bark, and three indians come into sight. from the conversation, we gathered that the country for miles around was under water. many cattle belonging to the indians in this reserve were drowned, also an old house was carried away and where it once stood we have now a small creek running from the river to a muskeg. stanley post (sask.) notes the last of the freighters reached here on april 18th, on their return trip to prince albert, having delivered all the freight for lac du brochet post at south deer lake. the season being late, they had to work night and day, under adverse weather conditions. one big snowstorm lasted a day and a night, and the wind was terrible, the track being covered up a few moments after it had been opened. the rain and the soft weather we had in march formed a hard crust on the deep snow, which was very bad for the horses.--thos. bear, post manager. buying everything in sight by p. h. godsell, _fort simpson_ the article by mr. forbes in connection with the london auction sales calls to mind a rather amusing incident that occurred when i once attended a h.b.c. fur sale at college hill, london. being young, i took a keen interest in everything, especially in the actions of the auctioneer. i studied my catalogue and notes closely and when a lot would be called by the auctioneer invariably raised my head and _looked him in the eye._ as i was leaving the sale room at the termination of the afternoon sale i passed mr. ingrams and mr. randall. they remarked that i must feel very well satisfied with my afternoon's business, as _i should be the owner of almost every lot that was put up_. it was not until then that i learned that by even such a small sign as a direct look a lot would be knocked down by the broker, and that i had to all appearances bought everything in sight! as they were we begin in this number publication of a series of "youthful portraits" depicting present-day h.b.c. employees as they appeared at a "tender age." it appears that considerable interest will be demonstrated by our readers in trying to discover familiar likenesses in these quaint old photographs. mckay post manager dies _b. f. cooper served h.b.c. thirty-seven years in north_ b. f. cooper, an old timer and hudson's bay fur trader, died at fort mcmurray, may 28th, after an illness of some weeks. mr. cooper was an englishman, an old "blue-coat school" boy, brought up in london. instead of moving in the limelight of politics mr. cooper chose the quiet and lasting work of pioneering on the frontier posts of the empire and for thirty-six years had been a trusted and faithful servant of the hudson's bay company, in charge of the fort mckay post. [illustration: b. f. cooper] a few weeks before his death, an urgent message was sent to fort mcmurray for medical help and immediately the company chartered a motor boat to bring mr. cooper from mckay. he was given every possible care. the funeral took place on sunday, may 29th, in the little presbyterian church at mcmurray, the coffin being covered with the hudson's bay flag and borne by hudson's bay men, c. c. sinclair, j. cunningham, l. lane, g. petty, h. porter, captain mcleod, ed. jones and j. sutherland. the little church was crowded with people who followed to the cemetery the remains of the respected old timer whose only relative present was a son of sixteen years. mr. cooper leaves a wife and seven children. his record with the company follows: date capacity post 1884-1885 clerk n.d. office, winnipeg 1885-1887 in charge fort ellice 1887-1895 in charge touchwood hills 1895-1899 accountant chipewyan 1899-1904 clerk in charge fond du lac 1904-1905 clerk onion lake 1905-1912 clerk fort smith 1912-1914 post manager chipewyan 1914-1921 post manager mckay tried for north pole by balloon _h.b.c. was on lookout for ill-fated andree polar party, 1896_ by h. m. s. cotter while i was stationed at north west river post on the labrador coast in 1896, the government of norway and sweden sent out an arctic expedition in a polar balloon to make an attempt at reaching the north pole. the company, anxious to lend a hand to the success of this scientific exploration to the top of the earth, despatched to its many far northern posts drawings of the balloon like the illustration shown, accompanied by the notice: "in the summer of 1896 a balloon (an object like that shown on the drawing) may be seen floating in the air. this balloon will convey a party of three swedish scientists who have been making explorations towards the north pole by these means. the government of sweden and norway has requested that the explorers may receive all possible assistance. natives should therefore be told that the balloon is not a dangerous thing, but merely a mode of conveyance in the air just as a ship is in the water. natives should be told to approach the people in it without fear and to give them all the help in their power. if the balloon is seen only, the natives should be told to communicate the day and hour, the direction and time it was visible, and the direction of the wind. if the people arrive, having lost the balloon, the natives to be told to give them all possible assistance. it is requested that the travellers may be supplied with passport and all necessary official documents, the names being: mr. solomon august andree, aged 42; dr. nils gustaf ekholm, aged 48; mr. nils strindberg, aged 24." [illustration: _the drawing of andree's polar balloon._] according to instructions, i informed all the indians to be on the lookout for the balloon. early one morning an indian rushed into the store to say he had heard an awful "ringing of bells" away up in the heavens and was sure it was the balloon passing. i could see or hear nothing, but the native persisted in his story. i told him it might have been andree ringing the breakfast bell. i could only get him calmed down by giving him some tobacco. probably that was all he was after. traces of andree were said to have been found at cape mugford, northern labrador, but no positive proof was ever obtained. another story came from ft. churchill to the effect that an eskimo had found some clothing supposed to have been from the balloon, but these were said to have been left behind by mr. j. b. tyrrell on one of his expeditions. what happened at fort simpson, n.w.t. during winter, 1921? _from entries in the post journal by manager a. f. camsell_ jan., 1921 1--the usual reception was given the indians this morning and a dance will take place in the evening till 12 p.m. 5--mail arrived from liard this evening; they were ten days coming down. 8--mail arrived from providence at 10 a.m. 10--mr. p. h. godsell with robbillard, driver, and two liard men left for liard this morning. mr. godsell goes to liard on an inspection trip. the mail left yesterday for mcpherson. 12--five men and two trains of dogs arrived from the south this afternoon en route to the norman oil fields to stake claims. 13--tony neis and a party of oil men arrived from the south this evening en route to the norman oil fields to stake claims; corporal doke and constable brackett of the mounted police also arrived and are to be stationed at norman. 17--clear and cold, 38 below. 22--mr. t. w. harris and w. george left for norman this morning in connection with the staking of claims below norman. 28--inspector godsell returned today from a trip to liard. feb. 2--wind north. mr. godsell, mr. jackson, clerk, robbillard, w. sibbiston and john hope, forerunner, left for good hope this morning with two trains of dogs. wind north. 19--mail arrived from the south today, 20 days behind schedule time. 23--clear and fine. mr. conibear and two sons arrived from smith with two trains of dogs to stake claims at norman. 25--clear and mild, thawing in the sun for the first time this season. norwegian arrived from rabbit skin river with a good bunch of furs. mar. 2--most of the oil prospectors left for the south today after recording their claims here. 12--mr. harry mcgurn arrived with the mail from the north last night. mr. wada and party accompanied him from wrigley. 18--mail arrived from providence today, 18 days behind time. this mail will do down as far as mcpherson. 30--cloudy and thawing. h. camsell and w. johnson went for a moose across the river this morning. two airplanes arrived this morning at 11:30 a.m. from peace river. they were one hour and forty minutes travelling time from providence. apr. 1--w. johnson, h.b.c. engineer, making propellor for airplane. 5--one of the airplanes started for norman this morning and met with an accident in starting, smashing the prop. and damaging one of the wings. 15--one of the airplanes took a trial trip with a new prop. this afternoon and appeared to give satisfaction. 18--w. johnson left this morning at 2 a.m. with two trains of dogs and supplies for work on the s.s. liard at spence river. 22--wind north and snowing most of the day. both airplanes are now ready, and they will be leaving for peace river as soon as the weather is favourable. the englishman and the "grizzly" _a bear story with a stinger_ by c. h. french leaving wrangell, alaska, for telegraph creek, british columbia, in the spring of 1914, i overtook an englishman who intended to spend the summer in the interior of british columbia, and after enjoying a big game hunt in the fall would return to civilization. before we had got far up the river, night overtook us, making it necessary for the "gas" boat on which we were travelling to tie up for the night. the beach on which we landed was a sandy one that would permit of walking along the shore for some distance; so my friend, the englishman, started out to stretch his legs. not far up the beach there commenced a large piece of low, swampy country and just before coming to it my friend caught a glimpse of what he thought was a large grizzly bear going speedily through the bush. wasn't the englishman excited! a few well-directed spider-like movements landed him back on the launch. after his struggle for breath was over we learned the exciting news. we agreed that our friend should be allowed to do all the execution, while we kept in the background in order to help out should the brute attack. guns were made ready and a stealthy advance was commenced. at length the rifle of our friend went to his shoulder and bang! in a moment the monster was dead. by this time it was quite dark, so we made haste and prepared to drag the game to the launch to be skinned. finally, after tugging and working with all our strength, with perspiration pouring off our foreheads, we concluded the carcass was too heavy to be handled by only six ordinary men. a suggestion was then made to run a line from the boat and attach it to the hand capstan and haul him along in that way. this scheme was tried and after working hard (putting more grease on the gears every ten minutes) our enthusiasm began to wane and before another half hour had passed it was decided to leave the monster where it was until daylight, when it would be skinned where it lay. we were up bright and early the next morning and while breakfast was being prepared the hunting and skinning knives were ground and sharpened to a fine edge and fit to cut the toughest hide or even to shave with. breakfast was finished and we trooped off to where lay the king of the forest (especially the low-lying swampy fringed forest) and after coats were thrown off and sleeves rolled up to above the elbows the operation of skinning was ready to commence. our friend the englishman was naturally anxious that the job be a neat one, as he certainly was anxious to have that hide mounted, especially on account of its large size and its being the first specimen of big game killed by him in cassiar, and he suggested that we wait a few minutes longer until it was full daylight. at last the light of the rising sun commenced to show brightly in the east until it ended in one great burst of brilliant glory which held us as in a trance admiring its beauty. finally we turned to the animal and the work of skinning. one glance in the improved light was sufficient to show that there was something wrong, and that our grizzly bear was not a bear after all. but what was it? owing to my years of experience the matter was referred to me, and after making a close examination i was able to announce with surety that the supposed grizzly bear was _only a common, everyday stikine river mosquito_, of perhaps a little greater size than is usually encountered. it was then up to everyone to remark that they were sure from the first that it was not a bear. but the climax was reached when the englishman _expressed surprise that we had any doubts about what the animal really was_ right from the start, because he had killed it _only to get the stinger_, which, he was told, made an excellent golf club. pigeon trap in the june issue i note a reference to the pigeon trap at h.b.c. calgary gun club. as a devotee of the gun myself, and without any wish to presume to dictate to mr. chamberlain or any member of the gun club, i would respectfully draw his attention to the fact that the practice of shooting live pigeons sprung from traps has received severe condemnation; so much so that it is contemplated to discontinue the "sport" at monte carlo, biarritz, and many other fashionable resorts. also the british parliament intended to set the seal of its disapproval on this pastime by an act which would render it prohibitive. _the times_ of april 27th, 1921, says: "_a standing committee of the house of commons, over which mr. hodge presided, yesterday considered the bill introduced by sir burton chadwick to prohibit the use of captive birds in all shooting carried on under artificial conditions._ "_sir burton chadwick moved a minor amendment to clause 1, which renders any person concerned in shooting of captive birds liable to a maximum fine of â£25, or imprisonment for a term not exceeding three months or to both._" again on may 27th, _the times_ reports: "_we are able to state on high authority that the directors of the casino at monte carlo have decided to abandon the use of living birds in the pigeon-shooting competitions at monte carlo._" _john mcmurray, chief accountant's office, winnipeg_ old fur trader ill joseph sinclair, 83, a former h.b.c. fur trader at york factory and in the saskatchewan district, was admitted to the winnipeg general hospital on april 21st. mr. sinclair is suffering from cancer, a rodent ulcer on the face. he has had an attack of pneumonia while in hospital, but recovered and according to his physician is doing as well as could be expected. the vanished buffalo herds of north america _kingly race that once roamed a continent almost wiped out for "a dollar a hide"; straggling survivors carefully guarded_ by w. e. anderson about the year 1879 a party of metis hunters came to the plains southwest of the present situation of regina, saskatchewan, to hunt buffalo. the party consisted of the father, a man then on the elderly side of middle age, but who had been in his youth a noted buffalo runner and indian fighter; his wife, a heavy half-breed woman of some fifty years; and his daughter, a girl of about seventeen of a comely and attractive appearance. the father, according to his custom, followed the chase on horseback, the old woman, seated amongst robes and camp baggage, drove the creaking red river cart, whilst the young girl was in and out of the vehicle like an eager young spirit of the prairie. that season there were very few carts which came to the plains after buffalo. the great herds that used to blacken the country to the rim of the horison had thundered away into the limbo of the lost, and all that was left of them was a few stragglers that still haunted some of the more remote valley bottoms. the halfbreeds had strange and superstitious ideas about the passing of the buffalo. they could not believe that they had gone never to return. it was only yesterday that the plains were black with the shaggy herds. their trails and wallows were still to be seen everywhere. [illustration: _our map diagram indicates the approximate distribution of the buffalo grounds prior to 1800; limitations, mississippi river, rocky mountains, gulf of mexico and great slave lake._] this particular metis hunter believed that they had gone to some new pasturage, and that if they could be found the hunting would again be as good as in the days of yore. so for a period of years he led his family up and down the plains. one season they wintered at wood mountain, another they wandered as far north as ile a la crosse, then again at the milk river; but in all their wanderings they found none of the vanished herds. one winter they came to fort edmonton, and there the mother who had suffered for years from goitre, and was doubtless wearied with much wandering, lay down and quietly died. towards the close of the winter there came to the post a touchwood indian who had been in the slave river country as a dog driver for a hudson's bay officer. he told the halfbreed hunter that in the northern country of the lakes and rivers he had heard strange tales of great herds of buffalo. he had actually seen some himself. they were larger than the old-time buffalo of the plains, and their coats were longer and silkier. the old hunter brightened at the news. here at last was the word of the missing herds; making a company of travel with an iroquois river man, they penetrated through labyrinths of waterways to the region of the far north. there is no doubt but that the old hunter had been misled by rumors of the herd of wood-buffalo which had existed for many years in the slave river country, and which are today carefully protected by the northwest mounted police patrol. the original area over which the buffalo ranged began almost at tide-water on the atlantic coast. it extended westward through a vast tract of dense forest, across the alleghany mountains to the prairies along the mississippi, and southward to the delta of that great stream. although the vast plains country of the west was the natural home of the species, where it flourished most abundantly, it also wandered south across texas to the burning plains of north-eastern mexico, westward across the rocky mountains into new mexico, utah and idaho, and northward across a vast treeless waste to the bleak and inhospitable shores of great slave and hudson bay. vast herds of bison seemed to clothe the prairies in a coat of brown. they roamed the country around the headwaters of the qu'appelle river in tens of thousands. catlin has given some idea of the enormous numbers of bison that were killed during the first half of the nineteenth century. in 1832 he stated that 150,000 to 200,000 robes were marketed annually, which meant a slaughter of 2,000,000 or perhaps 3,000,000 bison. so great was the destruction that he prophesied their extermination within eight or ten years. the death knell was struck when the construction of the union pacific railway was begun at omaha in 1866. prior to the advent of the first transcontinental railway the difficulties of marketing the results of the slaughter served as a slight check on the rate of extermination. the destruction began in earnest in 1876 and was complete four years later. the facility for shipping out the hides over the new railways was the cause of the rapid disappearance of the buffalo. in the united states, buffalo hunters grew prosperous shooting down the animals for "a dollar a hide." while the accompanying map is approximately correct, the feeding ground was necessarily subject to food material. in such years, for instance, as the grasshoppers spread devastation over large tracts of the northwest--when for miles and miles not a blade of grass could be seen--it is only reasonable to expect that the buffalo changed his regular stamping ground. william t. hornaday, the naturalist, estimated, january 1st, 1908, the number of wild bison in the rocky mountains at 25, and the number in canada at 300. about 130 are captive in europe, and 1116 in the united states, bringing the total number of pure bred bison up to 2047. a large herd is under the protection of the canadian government in the park at wainwright, alberta. the more notable american herds are found in corbin's game preserve, new hampshire; in oklahoma; in the yellowstone national park; and on various private ranches in the western part of the united states. famous h.b.c. captains and ships (continued from the june issue) by h. m. s. cotter, cumberland house the "pelican" once scraped the sunken ledges near cartwright, but no h.b.c. ship has left her "bones" to rot on that iron-bound shore. little is known of the wrecks that do take place on this coast, but i have heard of appalling disasters amongst the hardy fishermen. on the nova scotian coast, collision with ice and subsequent loss of life is not infrequent. every year there are wrecks of some kind. ocean-going steamers have been forced ashore and become total wrecks. and so it is remarkable that h.b.c. ships have never met with disaster, especially considering their many ports of call. in 1908 i was a passenger on the "pelican" (captain alex. grey) bound for fort chimo, ungava. from the time we left quebec till we passed cape harrison, north of hamilton inlet, labrador, we had enjoyed fair weather. but the clouds and rising sea denoted a change. we were then standing off the coast nearly twelve miles and steaming at about seven knots. the wind kept veering between n. and n.e., finally blowing straight down the coast about north. we stood farther out to sea. at nightfall it was blowing half a gale with rain coming down--and mist. our speed then was not more than three knots and gradually getting less till about 2 o'clock in the morning when the wind increased to a living gale, screeching and howling through the rigging and stopping all progress. it was then decided to run for shelter, but the nearest harbour was forty miles south, a place named _webek_. captain grey had been in this harbour only once, about twenty-five years before, and no one else aboard had ever anchored there. they turned the ship and we came scudding south in the blackness of night, then lay-to till dawn, and picking up the land approached at half speed. to give some idea of the gale outside, when we finally came to an anchorage about 8 o'clock in the morning, the swell was so great in the harbour with the continued violence of the wind that we kept steaming to the anchors to prevent dragging and as the sailors say we were rolling "like maggots in an oak apple." several fishing schooners had run in the day before and even in shelter the crews had abandoned some of the vessels, as they were dragging their anchors and in imminent danger of going ashore. the captain was on the bridge all night. for hours he stood in the bow of the boat hanging in the starboard davits peering through the gloom and mist, looking for landmarks and the harbour entrance. he had on a black sou'wester and oil-skin coat and great long sea-boots. his face was streaming with the rain and spray--a gigantic, picturesque figure, and on this particular morning, unusually silent. when the ship was snug and safe he came off the bridge, and all he said was, "aye, aye, a little wind," and then he turned in. the entries in the log were quite commonplace--all in the day's work, as it were--and one would never glean from them that a ship and cargo worth a quarter of a million had been safely brought to a haven of refuge through exceptional seamanship and courage. it was in 1894 that captain grey in the "erik," when near resolution island at the entrance of the straits, ran into an iceberg. it happened at night in a thick fog. the ship was moving slowly at the time and before the lookout saw or could give warning she had poked her nose into the 'berg. her long bowsprit of pitch pine was crumpled up like so much matchwood, and the gear attached to it and one of the catheads was carried away. masses of ice came thundering down on her forecastle head, doing much damage to the woodwork. in the meantime the lookout sprinted aft, the watch below came tumbling up on deck and made for safety. the ship was put astern and hove to till daylight. they steamed up next day close enough to see a hole as big as a house which they had punched in the side of the 'berg. all the damage to the ship fortunately was done above the water line. when the "erik" returned to rigolet in october she was sporting a dinky little jib-boom made from one of the spare spars carried on deck for just such an emergency. mr. john ford, a passenger on his way to georges river post, told me he never saw captain grey more cool or collected. he gave orders as if nothing unusual were taking place. and at breakfast next morning all he said in reference to it was, "aye, aye, a little ice." f. t. c. o. notes ralph parsons, district manager for labrador, left st. john's, newfoundland, june 1st for inspection of fur trade posts in his district, including cartwright, rigolet, northwest river and davis inlet. mr. parsons will later board the h.b.c. supply ship at grady, off the labrador coast, and proceed north to the hudson straits section of his district. _l. romanet_, fur trade general inspector, left vancouver at the end of may for inspection of posts in the british columbia district. he will return in august. _t. p. o'kelly_ was to go on company's business with the "lady kindersley," which was scheduled to sail from vancouver for the western arctic, june 28th. _w. r. mitchell_, post manager at fort churchill, left winnipeg june 17th for his station, going via the pas and york factory. _john bartleman_, district manager for keewatin, left winnipeg june 20th for his regular summer inspection trip of fur trade posts. _the company has engaged_ twelve apprentice clerks in scotland for service at h.b.c. fur trade posts in northern canada. the party of young men sailed from southampton june 15th on the "corsican" for montreal. _j. j. barker_, district manager for saskatchewan, left prince albert june 18th on summer inspection trip. he will return august 1st. _mrs. owen griffith_, wife of the post manager at albany, james' bay district, was in winnipeg during june visiting her mother, mrs. allan nicolson. kamloops, b. c. store news _miss smith_, of the ready-to-wear department, returned june 1st after two weeks' vacation, part of which was spent with her mother and sisters at barriere. _mr. madill_, of the shoe department, made a short visit to calgary to meet mr. purves, manager of shoe department of winnipeg depot. _miss weatherby_, of the dry goods department, is on a two weeks' vacation trip to the coast cities. _mrs. munn_, wife of our grocery manager, who has just undergone two very trying operations in vancouver hospital, is home again and we are pleased to note her marked improvement. _harry campbell_ is the latest addition to our grocery staff and is welcomed by all. [illustration: youthful portrait no. 1] who is it? send your guess to the photograph editor, _the beaver_ and watch for the name next month. _mrs. l. g. mayer_, wife of the post manager at great whale river, was visiting relatives in fort william during june and has returned to the post. _nixon, our esteemed_ checker and shipper, is a recognized expert in all matters pertaining to horticulture. when the north kamloops may-day committee was making preparations for their celebration this year and wanted something very special in the way of flowers for the may queen's crown they appointed mr. nixon a committee of one to grow flowers for this purpose and to make the crown. a true fish story by geo. r. robson, esquimalt, b.c. if one chanced to be in the neighbourhood of the naas river in the early spring of the year, when the bolachan (candle fish) run begins, he could not fail to notice the large number of ducks gathered in the bays and the eagles perched on almost every tree skirting the beaches, all on the watch for the coming feast. sit down for a while and notice what is going on. ah! there is a fishhawk darting into the water of the bay. it is up again with a fish clutched in its talons; see, there comes an eagle in full chase rapidly overtaking the hawk which is now soaring up and up. it is useless; the eagle soon rises above and swoops down on the osprey. the fish abandoned and falling is followed by the eagle and caught before it reaches the water. so it goes on day by day while the run continues. at nelson one sunday afternoon when walking towards town, looking towards the lake i saw a hawk rise with a fish, and sure enough an eagle just starting in pursuit. (i pointed them out to my wife and children who were with me.) they were coming in our direction, flying low. thinking the eagle might be driven off, i gathered a few pebbles, and when the birds were almost above us threw them and shouted loudly. to my surprise the hawk dropped the fish and both birds wheeled about and flew in the direction of the lake. the fish fell in the brush about a hundred feet away. i ran to the spot; there was a fine trout wriggling in the grass. jack gibson, the drug store man, had appeared on the scene and called out, "what have you got there?" "oh, only to-morrow's breakfast," i replied. [illustration: _guests at kitchen shower given for miss smith_] gets wheelbarrow-full of aluminum pans miss smith, manager of the ready-to-wear department, who is leaving shortly to be married, was the guest of honor at a kitchen shower given at the home of miss stella cozens by the lady members of our staff and friends, who represented in almost every instance former members of the staff. the shower consisted of aluminum kitchen utensils in a wheelbarrow decorated with crepe paper and flowers, surmounted by two kewpie dolls dressed as bride and groom. after lunch was served and everybody felt happy and comfortable, miss dougans gave a little exhibition of acrobatic skill. montreal * * * * * _h.b.c. eastern buying agency news_ the following buyers for the new h.b.c. victoria store were in the east during june: miss j. murdock. miss a. g. mclaren. mr. hunter. mr. gordon. _miss f. o'grady and mr. frankish_, from the winnipeg retail branch, were with us june 17th, and mr. thomas ross, of the winnipeg depot, also spent a few days in montreal. _miss kate currie, of vancouver_, recently paid us a visit and is now en route for home. winnipeg _retail store news_ _at a recent meeting_ of the managers and buyers of the store two of our associates were honored for their service records. miss f. smith had just attained ten years' service, all of which was given in winnipeg store. mr. roland hoccon had just completed twenty years in the company's employ. in the name of the governor, mr. sparling commented upon the creditable records of both miss smith and mr. hoccon, and presented mr. hoccon with a twenty-year bar to his long service medal. _tom johnson_, of the men's clothing department, was a busy man during the week of june 1st. tom is a hard working member of the manitoba football association and was on the reception committee from manitoba to welcome the visiting aggregation of scottish football experts. _everyone regrets_ that we are losing miss netta mcewan, who will occupy an important position in the new victoria store. miss mcewan's pleasing personality has won her many friends during her years of association with us and we are, frankly, jealous of victoria store. _suppose mr. saalfeld_ would probably like to present us with a crate of retired eggs--one at a time--for saying so, but it just occurred to us that an advertisement of the following character should be productive of considerable business during the summer months: "_the beauty parlors announce for wednesday a sale of stylish new moustaches. these will be made up for two simoleons, in color desired to match any facial decoration scheme--waxed, fitted and attached free of extra charge. line forms on the left!_" _miss kandie, miss garnier and miss girourd_ have all left us, amid showers of confetti, during the last little while. object, matrimony. [illustration: youthful portrait no. 2] who is it? if you "have a hunch" send in your guess and watch for name in the august issue. listening-in at an h.b.c. dance! (imaginary scraps of desiccated conversation collected at a company dance). "_i have just two left open." "say, isn't he lanky!" "who is that dressed in copen?" "there--i've lost my hankie!_" "_hear that saxophone whine!" "who's your friend, may i ask?" "have yu tried the grape-vine?" "whew! this three-step's some task!_" "_now, you take a pace back." "see here--when do we eat?" "like a sea-going hack- "stepped all over my feet!_" "_such a long intermish!" "do you wish lemonade?" "she's like dorothy gish." "yes, that's imported jade._" "_i could fox-trot all night." "and never grow weary!" "m-m-m! my face is a sight; "slip me your puff, dearie._" "_there's those two, cheek to cheek!" "ho! see that man bowing." "now, don't jump when i speak- but your ears are showing!_" "_'home, sweet home!'--you live far?" "why you're really so kind,- but then art. bro't his car; i am sure you won't mind._" --_from_ "piebald pomes and other atrocities" by the akoond of swat. joe scott tends goal against all-stars by t. reith joe scott was pleasantly surprised when he received a handsome gold watch fob bearing the following inscription: _presented to joseph scott by his admirers in hudson's bay store for splendid display as goalkeeper against scottish all-star football team,_ _winnipeg, june 9th, 1921._ joe is an esteemed member of our delivery department and was honored by manitoba footballers in being chosen to keep goal for manitoba against the visiting scottish stars. said the one and only jimmy mcmenemy: "we won with ease, but there is one consolation left for the home boys, and that is that they are the best team we have yet opposed. "your goalkeeper, joe scott, is a worthy custodian. facing a blinding sun and having to handle a lively ball, he put up a great game between the sticks. i thought that some of his saves were particularly fine." [illustration: _joe scott stopping a "hot shot" from andy wilson of the visiting stars._] wholesale depot _miss rose paradis_, late steno star, was our first "june bride." rose was married at sedan on wednesday, june 8th. _miss maude poole_, who came out from england, joining the staff of steno stars, was our next "june bride," being married on saturday, june 11th, to mr. l. keeble, of winnipeg. the wedding took place at st. luke's church, fort rouge, at 4 o'clock. the girls of the staff presented miss poole with an electric table lamp as a token of their appreciation. _poor bobby_ (miss gow) is on the sick list and is unfortunately compelled to miss the first part of the tennis season. bobby was one of our enthusiasts last year. _miss fairbanks_ is another unfortunate one on the sick list. _football_--the team in the commercial league are still going at a great gait--government telephones and eaton's wanderers being beaten 2-1 and 1-0, respectively. to date the wholesale have played four games, winning two and drawing two. _tennis_--like bears awakening after the winter's sleep, so the long evenings and fine weather is luring the tennis fans on to the courts. the latest converts are miss kellet, miss vusom, miss smeaton and bill paul. all members of the staff are welcome and we wish that more would come out and take advantage of the courts. _quoits._--the wholesale section of the depot are going to try for the quoits championship this year. many are coming out for practice games, and as one remarked the other night, "watch our smoke." modern canoes for northland a carload of modern peterboro canoes will go forward shortly from edmonton to fort mcpherson, at the mouth of the mckenzie river, for distribution among the northernmost posts of h.b.c. this modern type of canoe is being shipped in to take the place of the old time birchbark, and this summer will see them being paddled by eskimos and indians who hitherto have never navigated anything more modern than a kayak or birchbark canoe. the new canoes weigh but forty pounds each, although twelve feet in length. they are intended especially for the requirements of the lone hunter. there are twelve canoes in all going to the far north in this shipment, including the various types and sizes from the big cruiser to the trapper's craft. lethbridge (alta.) store news an enjoyable time was had on may 24th at the club house on henderson lake by the members and friends of the hudson's bay athletic association of lethbridge. baseball, boating, music and dancing provided entertainment for the large crowd. in the afternoon a presentation of a knife and fork cabinet was made to mr. charles briggs, who recently took unto himself a wife. the presentation was made by mr. c. h. fair on behalf of the management and staff. _miss reeves_ attended the gossard corset demonstration at calgary recently. _mr. w. thomson_, who recently arrived in canada from scotland, and who has served overseas with the imperial army as french and german interpreter with the army of occupation, is now manager of the house furnishings department. mr. thomson has had a number of years' experience in glasgow. _mr. charles briggs_ has been transferred to the managership of our grocery department. _miss patterson_ left for a short visit to vancouver where she has undergone an operation and we are pleased to know that she is progressing favorably and able to enjoy the scenic wonders of the coast city. _mrs. mars_ is now back with us after a short illness. _mr. george burns_, manager of the shoe department, is on the sick list, but we hope to see him back in his department shortly. general office (winnipeg) news the publicity department removed june 8th from york street to the executive offices at 208 main street. _t. h. irvine_, caretaker, was heard talking to himself, chuckling, and saying something about a "prize bairn." mrs. irvine is doing well, and thomas henry is the name of the fine new baby. _colin urquhart_, whose retirement was reported in our issue of december, 1920, was a visitor last month. he looked the picture of health. _miss peggy boyle_ and mr. w. a. wylde, of the chief accountant's office were on holidays from june 13th to 27th. [illustration: winnipeg dry goods staff, 1898. any familiar faces here?] vancouver [illustration: _this up-and-coming aggregation of h.b.c. vancouver baseball artists has been playing in hard luck so far, but enthusiastic rooting will encourage them to fight for a place at the top. our 'photo shows the players from left to right: mcreery, leaney, vater, stedham, barber, anderson, jopson, cline, rawlinson, adams._] watch these ball players from now on by l. a. keele out of four games played the team has yet to win a game, but the boys are trying hard and with a little co-operation and support from the rest of the store staff the ball team will yet be seen in the form of a championship contender. all games are played immediately after the close of business and it is hard to expect the boys to be on hand and ready to play at a moment's notice. however, that is one of the hardships they are working under and if the supporters of our team will have patience until the team gets into its stride they will see the team win ball games. support the team. come out to every game; let the boys who are playing know that you are behind them. make a noise when you are there and don't let the players think that the whole crowd is rooting for the other team. city senior baseball is good and any team that can make good in the league are ball players. in view of the fact that this is the h.b.c. store's first attempt to field a team in the city league, and all other teams have the rest of the city to choose from, whereas the h.b.c. team is being confined to store boys, we have a very formidable aggregation. no skirts for this 4200-foot climb by a. humphreys a party of five of the younger set--misses e. martin, l. geach, v. fairhurst, a. humphreys and m. phillips, started out for a hike up grouse mountain on a sunday in june. after an enjoyable ride on the ferry they boarded the car for the mountain, started to climb about ten o'clock and reached mosquito creek (2000 feet) about noon. there camp was struck. the climb was continued to the summit, which was reached about 4 o'clock. a lively game of snowball was enjoyed by these ardent alpine spirits, who nothing daunted by the 4200-foot grade, declared they had the time of their lives. many of the staff will no doubt want to follow in the footsteps of these pioneer trail-breakers. but girls, side-step skirts and get into riding trousers for this climb! * * * * * _mr. h. pout_, h.b.c. manager at vernon, who has been recently appointed to position of merchandise manager at victoria store, was in vancouver during june making arrangements for entering his new sphere in the company's service. presentation to mr. horne j. s. horne, assistant accountant, who has devoted twelve years of faithful service at the vancouver store, was presented on june 11th with a gold watch and chain as a mark of the regard in which he is held by the staff, the occasion being the transfer of mr. horne to the new store soon to be opened at victoria. mr. lockyer, general manager, made the presentation in the presence of representatives from the different departments of the store. h.b.c. cribbage players win baxter cup the aggregate scores for the season in the vancouver inter-club and cribbage association show the hudson's bay company players as winners of the t. s. baxter cup for single points, while g.w.v.a. has carried off the double championship and with it the cup donated by h. t. lockyer. wholesome minds a few thoughts for our younger folks (older ones not barred) _by mrs. jack hawkshaw_ when a young woman's skirt or a young man's trousers show bulging creases over the knees, their owners are living a sedentary life or have never learned to walk correctly. stand erect with the upper part of the chest "leading." breathe deeply, laugh deeply and smoothly. don't giggle and squirm, girls. have poise. it is the most wonderful health inspirer on earth. how many of us realize that a flustered mind is the cause of more disease than the inoculation of poisonous germs? physicians are coming more and more to see the power of mentality. a great deal of practice of the now-a-days physician is in "cheering up" his patients and routing morbid fears. every thought has an effect of some sort on the human body. how often an unreasoning fear of a disease will bring about conditions which make for the "catching" of it! we would have fewer cases of "chronic ailments" if only folks would realize that if it is "chronic" then it can not be very "killing" trouble, else people would not last for years (sometimes for more than half a century) with some affliction that they become so attached to they could not live without. you know in every community there is the chronic sufferer from insomnia who forty-nine times out of every fifty nights has not "slept a wink." sleeplessness is his hobby. by all means let us throw the windows of our minds wide open to the blessed breezes of heaven and rejoice in this "best of all possible worlds." live vitally, energetically. really "enjoy your work" and throw yourselves with might and main into play. and remember, the hudson's bay company, which has existed for 251 years, does not require _you_ to be its atlas when you go home at night. it will get along quite as well if you lay business aside, out of your mind, and relax and "air your brain" from the fatigues of the day and then come back in the morning full of "pep" ready to give good measure in the service you have sold them. some of our young ladies like to do a little bit of homekeeping in their spare time; one we know of has a wonderful little "cabin home" on the wooded shores of burrard inlet. on wednesdays and sundays she dispenses hospitality to a chosen friend or two. we heard of a most entertaining "party" held not so long ago. it would appear that the guests foregathered at a rendezvous to be driven to "ozocomfy" in another young lady's motor car. they all had a wonderful day of it, notwithstanding the fact that the motor tires blew off, and the gas gave out. they pluckily stuck to the game and arrived home after a most hilarious outing. leaving for new posts at victoria those about to leave vancouver for their new appointments at victoria store are as follows: _mr. porte, manager_; _mr. stanhope, manager, furniture department_; _mr. marten, manager, draperies_; _mrs. grew, librarian_; _mr. stewart, manager, ladies' shoes_; _miss mclaren, manageress, whitewear_; _miss grimason, manageress, ready-to-wear_; _mr. wilkinson, manager, delivery_; _mr. horne, accountant_; _mr. mcbain, traffic manager_. the wild man "_who's the stranger, mother dear? look! he knows us! ain't he queer?" "hush, my own! don't talk so wild, "that's your father, dearest child!" "he's my father? no such thing! father died, you know, last spring!" "father didn't die, you dub! father joined a golfing club, but they closed the club, so he had no place to go, you see! no place left for him to roam, that's why he's coming home. kiss him--he won't bite you, child, all these golfing guys look wild!_" edmonton [illustration: _a pyramid of pretty players who are upholding the honor of h.b.c. edmonton retail in the lively game of basketball. won one, lost two. more wins soon._] retail store topics _miss vera solick_ has recently been promoted as assistant to mr. briggs in the whitewear section. _miss winnie campbell_, of the whitewear department, is leaving, to be married. the event will take place the latter part of june. _miss a. lavoy_, of the underwear department, leaves on the 1st of july for the coast, a change being absolutely necessary for her health. _mrs. k. duncan_, our corsetiere, is leaving for calgary to attend the "gossard school of instruction" which is being held in that city. _miss ritchie_, of the transfer desk, has changed her name. mr. yuill, of h.b.c. wholesale department, is the cause of this drastic procedure. the whole store staff tenders them their most hearty congratulations. _miss opal jobe_, recently of the whitewear section, has been transferred to the drug department. _miss e. rudder_, of the library, is once more back in her old place at the stationery counter. _mr. saunders_, of the drug department, is a newcomer and we welcome him to our ranks. _miss lillian ritchie_, bride-to-be, was the recipient of a linen shower, given june 4th by her friends of the store, at the home of miss jennie jones, bonnie doon. _a certain buyer_ on the main floor went fishing during may, but reports that all he caught was a "bully cold." our buyer didn't get a bite, but as he sat with his friend on the bank of the river he imagined that a big one was trying to take away his pole which was propped among rocks while he went for a drink of gingerbeer. he made a dash for the pole, stumbled on a stone and in trying to avoid a fall, grabbed his companion. they both rolled into the cold waters of the river. thus ended disastrously a promising fishing excursion. a. & a.a. early season sports events _football_--our team continues to win and is at the head of the league table, having played four league games and won them all by scores of 4-0, 1-0, 5-0, and 7-0, and there seems to be nothing to stop us from annexing the league championship. _baseball_--the baseball team has played three league games so far, and won them all, so they too are strongly in the running, being the only unbeaten side so far. _basketball_--our girls have played three games since the last report and have won one of them, losing the others by a single point in each instance. _tennis_--the two new tennis courts which have been in course of construction were opened on friday, june 3rd, and a great number took advantage of the sport provided. a tournament is being planned. judging by the number of entrants, it should be a great success. let's forget it by j. prest _if you see a tall fellow ahead of a crowd, a leader of men, marching fearless and proud, and you know of a tale whose mere telling aloud would cause his proud head in grief to be bowed, it's a pretty good plan to forget it._ _if you know of a skeleton hidden away in a closet, and guarded, and kept from the day, in the dark, and whose showing, whose sudden display would cause grief and sorrow and lifelong dismay, it's a pretty good plan to forget it._ _if you know of a thing that will darken the joy of a man or a woman, a girl or a boy, that will wipe out a smile or leastway annoy, or cause a fellow any gladness to cloy, it's a pretty good plan to forget it._ how much brighter and how much more joyful would this old world be if we all got together and practised that old adage, "do unto others as ye would that they do unto you." this world is too full of sorrow and pain already, and we are all too ready to condemn when we ought to condone. what is the matter with us anyway? if one has taken a false step in the past, is there any reason why they should be given the "cold shoulder," especially when they are endeavouring to lead a straight life? man or woman is entitled to a square deal, no matter what the past may have been. once the turning point has been passed between right and wrong, and a firm endeavor is made to keep to the "narrow way," then let us help and encourage instead of raking up the past and by so doing help wreck a human soul. we are all human; many are subject to temptations from which others are immune. it is usually a case of environment, therefore judge not your neighbor harshly. let's all try to practice the suggestions in the above poem; let's judge fellow beings by the present--not by the past. masquerade baseball match amuses a big turn-out marked this amusing event on saturday, june 11th, at the company's grounds. about two hundred marched from the store, headed by a comic jazz band, dressed in almost every conceivable sort of costume. on arrival at the baseball grounds the fun began in earnest. a troop of horsemen proved a circus in itself. no less than nine fiery chargers in the persons of messrs. crockett, ferris, edwards, fleming, arnold, plowman, crockett jr., and hardaker, provided fun which was a "scream" from start to finish. frequently the crowd of onlookers were charged by these cavorting and prancing steeds. towards the end of the evening, however, crockett's horse had its head knocked off and one or two more lost tails and other parts of their anatomy. never had edmontonians witnessed such a motley crowd as those who took part and attended this masquerade baseball match. the store manager, mr. f. f. harker, dressed as a stalwart chinese mandarin, umpired the game. the rival teams were as follows: "_harmony has-beens_"--miss peterson, miss doherty, miss mcewen, miss larandeau, miss meghy, mr. digney, mr. mckenzie, mr. b. stephens, mr. graham. "_peerless misfits_"--miss mcleod, miss bennet, mrs. astley, miss h. stephens, miss urquhart, mr. roberts, mr. ferris, mr. p. plowman, mr. stephens. _score_--"misfits," 15. "has-beens," 8. [illustration: youthful portrait no. 3] who is it? send in your guess now and watch for name next month. calgary _retail store news_ [illustration: officers and executive of h.b.a.a.a., season, 1921 standing--_a. wilkinson_, _lou doll_, _g. benson_, _t. walsh_, _h. lambert_, _s. mckellar_. seated--_miss miller_, _f. r. reeve, secretary_; _j. s. smith, vice-president_; _j. m. gibson, president_; _r. w. mason, treasurer_; _miss mcray_.] new department as a sales-stimulant during june it was decided to take two complete sections of the fourth floor and create a new department to be known as fourth floor bargain centre. this department was opened up in connection with _june stock unloading campaign_ which ran for a period of eight days. special advertising called attention not only to fourth floor bargain centre but to main floor bargain tables and rendezvous bargain tables as well. fourth floor signs were placed on all elevators and on different floors calling attention to the bargains to be found there. considerable interest has been taken by the staff in the formation of this department and all buyers are very keen to get their merchandise displayed. if this attitude is reflected by the public there is no doubt that the creation of this department will prove a decided success. * * * * * _holiday time_ is here and several members of the staff are enjoying themselves in the country and elsewhere. miss burrows, of the ladies' underclothing department, has taken a big risk; she has gone to ponoka. hopes are entertained that she will come back greatly benefited by her sojourn there. _mrs. marks_, who has resided in vancouver for a few years, has joined the whitewear department. she was formerly employed in the blouse department. the adventures of sales book no. 666 (_continued from june issue_) after the trouble that resulted from my being lost, of which i told you last month, my owner was for a time very careful where she put me, but when one is doing one thing and thinking of something altogether different it won't be long before there is a mistake made--and sure enough that is what happened. a lady came up to the counter and my owner, who did not happen to be serving at the time, asked her what she could show her. the customer mentioned some little 10c article. my owner produced what was required and the customer said she would take two. i was then taken up and the sale was written down, but she did not notice, nor did the cashier, who knowing the price and looking on the sale slip for 20c saw that and nothing else. on the sale slip was written 2---10|20. it was intended to mean two articles at 10c ea.--20c; but my owner had placed the 10c in the $ column, making it look like $10.20. you cannot imagine how humiliated i felt at the trouble one of my sale slips was, i felt sure, going to cause; however, i will let it tell its own tale. _the story of sale slip no. 1_ as you know, i am really meant to stand for 20c, but look like $10.20. the cashier, not noticing the error, stamped me _paid_, tore me in half, placed the duplicate portion in the parcel and the original on her file with a lot of others. before long others were put on top of me and i stayed there till store closing time when we were all taken off the file, tied up and taken to the fourth floor and put in a box with a lot of other bundles. in the morning we were taken to the audit department where each bundle was summed up in turn by comptometer operators. the turn of my bundle soon came; the slips were rapidly added and when it came to me, sure enough into the machine went $10.20. when the total of the bundle was compared with the deposit slip it showed the cashier as being $10.00 short. the bundle was turned back to be re-added; another operator went through it, and arriving at the same total, and it was the same with two others who added the bundle. mr. cunningham was then flashed for and the report given to him that the cashier was $10.00 short. he questioned the cashier but she could not help him. meanwhile the audit department were sorting the sale slips and when they had all the slips for each salesperson in rotation they compared them with the tallies. when they came to me they saw $10.20 and on the tally only 20c. they were just about to add $10.00 more on to the tally when they noticed that the article written on my face was only a 10c article. then they realised that the "10" was out of place and that i represented only 20c. by looking at the cashier's stamp number and referring to the cashier's report they saw she was listed as $10.00 short. i was then taken to the saleslady who made me out and showed to her. her only comment was, "oh, that's nothing, it's only a little out of place." _note._--_the above was an actual occurrence. the sale slip in question was sent to_ the beaver _but cannot be reproduced here_. 700 attend eighth annual field sports with the exception of a short shower, ideal weather and a bumper crowd of joyous members made the eighth annual field day of the h.b.a.a.a. one of the most successful on record. it was held on wednesday afternoon, june 8th, on the athletic grounds at parkdale. the big programme was run off without a hitch. the membership to date is the highest on record and well over the 400 mark. mr. kitson, of the membership committee, promises to reach 500 before the season has passed. mr. mason and his refreshment committee went to a great deal of trouble to make the refreshment end a success, and that they did so will be borne out by each one of the 700 people who partook of them. through courtesy of the local military headquarters, the loan of an army field kitchen was obtained which materially helped the handling of the liquid refreshments. [illustration: _the happy throng at h.b.c. field day, calgary, june 8th, 1921_] music was supplied by an all-star band during the afternoon, and the comedy police proved an added feature in patrolling the grounds during the day. they made several amusing arrests and a court was busily engaged in pinning on the assessments. the police tug-of-war team beat the h.b.c. strongmen handily. this is the same "cop" aggregation that won the title from the firemen at the gymkhana. a grand prize drawing was held and twenty-four athletic events for men, women and girls during the afternoon. it is regretted that space will not permit to listing here of all the prizes and winners. the land department branch at victoria has removed from the district building on wharf street, and is now established at 401 pemberton building. miss mccoll wins prize in music festival miss julia mccoll, of h.b.c. credit office staff, won second prize in the contralto solo competition; marks, 86 per cent. and 86 per cent.; total, 172 per cent. miss mccoll and miss i. ramsay also won second prize in vocal duet competition; marks, 83 per cent. adjudicators were t. f. noble, m.a., f.r.c., a.r.c.m., of new york, and walter henry hall, professor of choral music, columbia 'varsity, new york. h.b.c. marine and river transport news the "lady kindersley" made her trial trip off vancouver june 6th and proceeded june 9th to seattle and ladysmith where she loaded coal and fuel oil, returning to vancouver june 15th to take on cargo for h.b.c. western arctic posts. she sailed for herschel island on her maiden trip, june 27th. _the h.b.c. schooner "casco"_ arrived safely at petropavlosk, kamchatka peninsula, siberia, on june 8th, according to a wireless message from that port which was relayed by cable from japan. _the river boats "hubaco"_ and "nechemus" arrived at fort mcmurray june 6th from fort fitzgerald after completing the second trip of the season to the portage. the "hubaco" left mcmurray again for the north, june 14th, with a house-boat in tow carrying the treaty party which will pay the annual government obligation to the indian tribes of the athabasca and mackenzie. the "nechemus" left for fitzgerald june 12th. _the h.b.s.s. "fort mcmurray"_ completed her second trip of the season to fort fitzgerald on june 7th, and left mcmurray for the north again on june 13th with freight and supplies for the mackenzie. _the h.b.s.s. "mackenzie river"_ came south from winter quarters, arriving at fort smith june 1st. _the h.b.s.s. "nascopie"_ sailed from st. nazarre, france, june 15th for st. john's and montreal, where she will load supplies for hudson bay posts. _the company has purchased_ the auxiliary schooner "l. burry" at st. john's, newfoundland. the vessel has been rechristened the "fort chesterfield" and will be utilized for the redistribution of supplies from the h.b.c. post at chesterfield inlet to the several posts and outposts of the district. mr. a. berthe, late of the nelson river district, is in st. john's superintending the overhauling of the boat and will accompany her to chesterfield. _the h.b.s.s. "baychimo,"_ of sixteen hundred tons deadweight, is a big steel steamer which has recently been purchased by the company owing to the extension of its trade in the hudson bay and straits districts. the "baychimo" will supplement the "nascopie," "pelican" and "discovery" which had been found insufficient to cope with the great supply tonnage going into the sub-arctic. the new steamer sailed from st. nazarre, france, on june 21st for montreal. _the h.b. schooner "fort churchill,"_ now lying in james' bay, will be transferred this season to the nelson river district (york factory.) captain kean is proceeding from montreal by way of mattice and the missanabie to take charge of the vessel on her voyage up the bay. hudson's bay company incorporated a.d. 1670 [illustration] "_everything for your game_" select good equipment for a good game you can't expect to beat colonel bogey with golf equipment of doubtful origin. the better your clubs, the better your game. be satisfied with nothing less dependable than h.b.c. quality. _it will profit you to get the best; your score card will show. let us help in the selection of suitable equipment from these famous lines_: _burke grand prize_ _harry vardon_ _j. h. taylor_ _carnoustie_ the wilson "success" 1.62 ball and the best in all accessories [transcriber's note: inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.] this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] a romany of the snows being a continuation of the personal histories of "pierre and his people" and the last existing records of pretty pierre by gilbert parker volume 4. little babiche at point o' bugles the spoil of the puma the trail of the sun dogs the pilot of belle amour little babiche "no, no, m'sieu' the governor, they did not tell you right. i was with him, and i have known little babiche fifteen years--as long as i've known you. . . . it was against the time when down in your world there they have feastings, and in the churches the grand songs and many candles on the altars. yes, noel, that is the word--the day of the great birth. you shall hear how strange it all was--the thing, the time, the end of it." the governor of the great company settled back in a chair, his powerful face seamed by years, his hair grey and thick still, his keen, steady eyes burning under shaggy brows. he had himself spent long solitary years in the wild fastnesses of the north. he fastened his dark eyes on pierre, and said: "monsieur pierre, i shall be glad to hear. it was at the time of noel--yes?" pierre began: "you have seen it beautiful and cold in the north, but never so cold and beautiful as it was last year. the world was white with sun and ice, the frost never melting, the sun never warming--just a glitter, so lovely, so deadly. if only you could keep the heart warm, you were not afraid. but if once--just for a moment--the blood ran out from the heart and did not come in again, the frost clamped the doors shut, and there was an end of all. ah, m'sieu', when the north clinches a man's heart in anger there is no pain like it--for a moment." "yes, yes; and little babiche?" "for ten years he carried the mails along the route of fort st. mary, fort o'glory, fort st. saviour, and fort perseverance within the circlejust one mail once a year, but that was enough. there he was with his esquimaux dogs on the trail, going and coming, with a laugh and a word for anyone that crossed his track. 'good-day, babiche' 'good-day, m'sieu'.' 'how do you, babiche?' 'well, thank the lord, m'sieu'.' 'where to and where from, babiche?' 'to the great fort by the old trail, from the far-off river, m'sieu'.' 'come safe along, babiche.' 'merci, m'sieu'; the good god travels north, m'sieu'.' 'adieu, babiche.' 'adieu, m'sieu'.' that is about the way of the thing, year after year. sometimes a night at a hut or a post, but mostly alone--alone, except for the dogs. he slept with them, and they slept on the mails--to guard: as though there should be highwaymen on the prairie of the ten stars! but no, it was his way, m'sieu'. now and again i crossed him on the trail, for have i not travelled to every corner of the north? we were not so great friends, for--well, babiche is a man who says his aves, and never was a loafer, and there was no reason why he should have love for me; but we were good company when we met. i knew him when he was a boy down on the chaudiere, and he always had a heart like a lion-and a woman. i had seen him fight, i had seen him suffer cold, and i had heard him sing. "well, i was up last fall to fort st. saviour. ho, how dull was it! macgregor, the trader there, has brains like rubber. so i said, i will go down to fort o'glory. i knew someone would be there--it is nearer the world. so i started away with four dogs and plenty of jerked buffalo, and so much brown brandy as macgregor could squeeze out of his eye! never, never were there such days--the frost shaking like steel and silver as it powdered the sunlight, the white level of snow lifting and falling, and falling and lifting, the sky so great a travel away, the air which made you cry out with pain one minute and gave you joy the next. and all so wild, so lonely! yet i have seen hanging in those plains cities all blue and red with millions of lights showing, and voices, voices everywhere, like the singing of soft masses. after a time in that cold up there you are no longer yourself--no. you move in a dream. "eh bien, m'sieu', there came, i thought, a dream to me one evening--well, perhaps one afternoon, for the days are short--so short, the sun just coming over a little bend of sky, and sinking down like a big orange ball. i come out of a tumble of little hills, and there over on the plains i saw a sight! ragged hills of ice were thrown up, as if they'd been heaved out by the breaking earth, jutting here and there like wedges--like the teeth of a world. alors, on one crag, shaped as an anvil, i saw what struck me like a blow, and i felt the blood shoot out of my heart and leave it dry. i was for a minute like a pump with no water in its throat to work the piston and fetch the stream up. i got sick and numb. there on that anvil of snow and ice i saw a big white bear, one such as you shall see within the arctic circle, his long nose fetching out towards that bleeding sun in the sky, his white coat shining. but that was not the thing--there was another. at the feet of the bear was a body, and one clawed foot was on that body--of a man. so clear was the air, the red sun shining on the face as it was turned towards me, that i wonder i did not at once know whose it was. you cannot think, m'sieu', what that was like--no. but all at once i remembered the chant of the scarlet hunter. i spoke it quick, and the blood came creeping back in here." he tapped his chest with his slight forefinger. "what was the chant?" asked the governor, who had scarce stirred a muscle since the tale began. pierre made a little gesture of deprecation. "ah, it is perhaps a thing of foolishness, as you may think--" "no, no. i have heard and seen in my day," urged the governor. "so? good. yes, i remember, you told me years ago, m'sieu'. . . . "the blinding trail and night and cold are man's: mine is the trail that finds the ancient lodge. morning and night they travel with me; my camp is set by the pines, its fires are burning--are burning. the lost, they shall sit by my fires, and the fearful ones shall seek, and the sick shall abide. i am the hunter, the son of the north; i am thy lover where no man may love thee. with me thou shalt journey, and thine the safe tent. "as i said, the blood came back to my heart. i turned to my dogs, and gave them a cut with the whip to see if i dreamed. they sat back and snarled, and their wild red eyes, the same as mine, kept looking at the bear and the quiet man on the anvil of ice and snow. tell me, can you think of anything like it?--the strange light, the white bear of the pole, that has no friends at all except the shooting stars, the great ice plains, the quick night hurrying on, the silence--such silence as no man can think! i have seen trouble flying at me in a hundred ways, but this was different--yes. we come to the foot of the little hill. still the bear not stir. as i went up, feeling for my knives and my gun, the dogs began to snarl with anger, and for one little step i shivered, for the thing seem not natural. i was about two hundred feet away from the bear when it turned slow round at me, lifting its foot from the body. the dogs all at once come huddling about me, and i dropped on my knee to take aim, but the bear stole away from the man and come moving down past us at an angle, making for the plain. i could see his deep shining eyes, and the steam roll from his nose in long puffs. very slow and heavy, like as if he see no one and care for no one, he shambled down, and in a minute was gone behind a boulder. i ran on to the man--" the governor was leaning forward, looking intently, and said now: "it's like a wild dream--but the north--the north is near to the strangest of all!" "i knelt down and lifted him up in my arms, all a great bundle of furs and wool, and i got my hand at last to his wrist. he was alive. it was little babiche! part of his face was frozen stiff. i rubbed out the frost with snow, and then i forced some brandy into his mouth, good old h.b.c. brandy,--and began to call to him: 'babiche! babiche! come back, babiche! the wolf's at the pot, babiche!' that's the way to call a hunter to his share of meat. i was afraid, for the sleep of cold is the sleep of death, and it is hard to call the soul back to this world. but i called, and kept calling, and got him on his feet, with my arm round him. i gave him more brandy; and at last i almost shrieked in his ear. little by little i saw his face take on the look of waking life. it was like the dawn creeping over white hills and spreading into day. i said to myself: what a thing it will be if i can fetch him back! for i never knew one to come back after the sleep had settled on them. it is too comfortable--all pain gone, all trouble, the world forgot, just a kind weight in all the body, as you go sinking down, down to the valley, where the long hands of old comrades beckon to you, and their soft, high voices cry, 'hello! hello-o!'" pierre nodded his head towards the distance, and a musing smile divided his lips on his white teeth. presently he folded a cigarette, and went on: "i had saved something to the last, as the great test, as the one thing to open his eyes wide, if they could be opened at all. alors, there was no time to lose, for the wolf of night was driving the red glow-worm down behind the world, and i knew that when darkness came altogether--darkness and night--there would be no help for him. mon dieu! how one sleeps in the night of the north, in the beautiful wide silence! . . . so, m'sieu', just when i thought it was the time, i called, 'corinne! corinne!' then once again i said, 'p'tite corinne! p'tite corinne! come home! come home! p'tite corinne!' i could see the fight in the jail of sleep. but at last he killed his jailer; the doors in his brain flew open, and his mind came out through his wide eyes. but he was blind a little and dazed, though it was getting dark quick. i struck his back hard, and spoke loud from a song that we used to sing on the chaudiere-babiche and all of us, years ago. mon dieu! how i remember those days- "'which is the way that the sun goes? the way that my little one come. which is the good path over the hills? the path that leads to my little one's home- to my little one's home, m'sieu', m'sieu'!' "that did it. 'corinne, ma p'tite corinne!' he said; but he did not look at me--only stretch out his hands. i caught them, and shook them, and shook him, and made him take a step forward; then i slap him on the back again, and said loud: 'come, come, babiche, don't you know me? see babiche, the snow's no sleeping-bunk, and a polar bear's no good friend.' 'corinne!' he went on, soft and slow. 'ma p'tite corinne!' he smiled to himself; and i said, 'where've you been, babiche? lucky i found you, or you'd have been sleeping till the great mass.' then he looked at me straight in the eyes, and something wild shot out of his. his hand stretched over and caught me by the shoulder, perhaps to steady himself, perhaps because he wanted to feel something human. then he looked round slow-all round the plain, as if to find something. at that moment a little of the sun crept back, and looked up over the wall of ice, making a glow of yellow and red for a moment; and never, north or south, have i seen such beauty--so delicate, so awful. it was like a world that its maker had built in a fit of joy, and then got tired of, and broke in pieces, and blew out all its fires, and left--ah yes--like that! and out in the distance i--i only saw a bear travelling eastwards." the governor said slowly: and i took my staff beauty, and cut it asunder, that i might break my covenant which i had made with all the people. "yes--like that." pierre continued: "babiche turned to me with a little laugh, which was a sob too. 'where is it, pierre?' said he. i knew he meant the bear. 'gone to look for another man,' i said, with a gay look, for i saw that he was troubled. 'come,' said he at once. as we went, he saw my dogs. he stopped short and shook a little, and tears came into his eyes. 'what is it, babiche?' said i. he looked back towards the south. 'my dogs--brandy-wine, come-along, 'poleon, and the rest--died one night all of an hour. one by one they crawl over to where i lay in my fur bag, and die there, huddling by me--and such cries--such cries! there was poison or something in the frozen fish i'd given them. i loved them every one; and then there was the mails, the year's mails--how should they be brought on? that was a bad thought, for i had never missed--never in ten years. there was one bunch of letters which the governor said to me was worth more than all the rest of the mails put together, and i was to bring it to fort st. saviour, or not show my face to him again. i leave the dogs there in the snow, and come on with the sled, carrying all the mails. ah, the blessed saints, how heavy the sled got, and how lonely it was! nothing to speak to--no one, no thing, day after day. at last i go to cry to the dogs, "come-along! 'poleon! brandy-wine!"--like that! i think i see them there, but they never bark and they never snarl, and they never spring to the snap of the whip.... i was alone. oh, my head! my head! if there was only something alive to look at, besides the wide white plain, and the bare hills of ice, and the sun-dogs in the sky! now i was wild, next hour i was like a child, then i gnash my teeth like a wolf at the sun, and at last i got on my knees. the tears froze my eyelids shut, but i kept saying, "ah, my great friend, my jesu, just something, something with the breath of life! leave me not all alone!" and i got sleepier all the time. "'i was sinking, sinking, so quiet and easy, when all at once i felt something beside me; i could hear it breathing, but i could not open my eyes at first, for, as i say, the lashes were froze. something touch me, smell me, and a nose was push against my chest. i put out my hand ver' soft and touch it. i had no fear, i was so glad i could have hug it, but i did not--i drew back my hand quiet and rub my eyes. in a little i can see. there stand the thing--a polar bear--not ten feet away, its red eyes shining. on my knees i spoke to it, talk to it, as i would to a man. it was like a great wild dog, fierce, yet kind, and i fed it with the fish which had been for brandy-wine and the rest--but not to kill it! and it did not die. that night i lie down in my bag--no, i was not afraid! the bear lie beside me, between me and the sled. ah, it was warm! day after day we travel together, and camp together at night--ah, sweet sainte anne, how good it was, myself and the wild beast such friends, alone in the north! but to-day--a little while ago--something went wrong with me, and i got sick in the head, a swimming like a tide wash in and out. i fall down-asleep. when i wake i find you here beside me--that is all. the bear must have drag me here.'" pierre stuck a splinter into the fire to light another cigarette, and paused as if expecting the governor to speak, but no word coming, he continued: "i had my arm around him while we talked and come slowly down the hill. soon he stopped and said, 'this is the place.' it was a cave of ice, and we went in. nothing was there to see except the sled. babiche stopped short. it come to him now that his good comrade was gone. he turned, and looked out, and called, but there was only the empty night, the ice, and the stars. then he come back, sat down on the sled, and the tears fall. . . . i lit my spirit-lamp, boiled coffee, got pemmican from my bag, and i tried to make him eat. no. he would only drink the coffee. at last he said to me, 'what day is this, pierre?' 'it is the day of the great birth, babiche,' i said. he made the sign of the cross, and was quiet, so quiet! but he smile to himself, and kept saying in a whisper: 'ma p'tite corinne! ma p'tite corinne!' the next day we come on safe, and in a week i was back at fort st. saviour with babiche and all the mails, and that most wonderful letter of the governor's." "the letter was to tell a factor that his sick child in the hospital at quebec was well," the governor responded quietly. "who was 'ma p'tite corinne,' pierre?" "his wife--in heaven; and his child--on the chaudiere, m'sieu'. the child came and the mother went on the same day of the great birth. he has a soft heart--that babiche!" "and the white bear--so strange a thing!" "m'sieu', who can tell? the world is young up here. when it was all young, man and beast were good comrades, maybe." "ah, maybe. what shall be done with little babiche, pierre?" "he will never be the same again on the old trail, m'sieu'!" there was silence for a long time, but at last the governor said, musing, almost tenderly, for he never had a child: "ma p'tite corinne!--little babiche shall live near his child, pierre. i will see to that." pierre said no word, but got up, took off his hat to the governor, and sat down again. at point o' bugles "john york, john york, where art thou gone, john york?" "what's that, pierre?" said sir duke lawless, starting to his feet and peering round. "hush!" was pierre's reply. "wait for the rest. . . . there!" "king of my heart, king of my heart, i am out on the trail of thy bugles." sir duke was about to speak, but pierre lifted a hand in warning, and then through the still night there came the long cry of a bugle, rising, falling, strangely clear, echoing and echoing again, and dying away. a moment, and the call was repeated, with the same effect, and again a third time; then all was still, save for the flight of birds roused from the desire of night, and the long breath of some animal in the woods sinking back to sleep. their camp was pitched on the south shore of hudson's bay, many leagues to the west of rupert house, not far from the moose river. looking north was the wide expanse of the bay, dotted with sterile islands here and there; to the east were the barren steppes of labrador, and all round them the calm, incisive air of a late september, when winter begins to shake out his frosty curtains and hang them on the cornice of the north, despite the high protests of the sun. the two adventurers had come together after years of separation, and sir duke had urged pierre to fare away with him to hudson's bay, which he had never seen, although he had shares in the great company, left him by his uncle the admiral. they were camped in a hollow, to the right a clump of hardy trees, with no great deal of foliage, but some stoutness; to the left a long finger of land running out into the water like a wedge, the most eastern point of the western shore of hudson's bay. it was high and bold, and, somehow, had a fine dignity and beauty. from it a path led away north to a great log-fort called king's house. lawless saw pierre half rise and turn his head, listening. presently he, too, heard the sound-the soft crash of crisp grass under the feet. he raised himself to a sitting posture and waited. presently a tall figure came out of the dusk into the light of their fire, and a long arm waved a greeting at them. both lawless and pierre rose to their feet. the stranger was dressed in buckskin, he carried a rifle, and around his shoulder was a strong yellow cord, from which hung a bugle. "how!" he said, with a nod, and drew near the fire, stretching out his hands to the blaze. "how!" said lawless and pierre. after a moment lawless drew from his blanket a flask of brandy, and without a word handed it over the fire. the fingers of the two men met in the flicker of flames, a sort of bond by fire, and the stranger raised the flask. "chin-chin," he said, and drank, breathing a long sigh of satisfaction afterwards as he handed it back; but it was pierre that took it, and again fingers touched in the bond of fire. pierre passed the flask to lawless, who lifted it. "chin-chin," he said, drank, and gave the flask to pierre again, who did as did the others, and said "chin-chin" also. by that salutation of the east, given in the far north, lawless knew that he had met one who had lighted fires where men are many and close to the mile as holes in a sieve. they all sat down, and tobacco went round, the stranger offering his, while the two others, with true hospitality, accepted. "we heard you over there--it was you?" said lawless, nodding towards point o' bugles, and glancing at the bugle the other carried. "yes, it was i," was the reply. "someone always does it twice a year: on the 25th september and the 25th march. i've done it now without a break for ten years, until it has got to be a sort of religion with me, and the whole thing's as real as if king george and john york were talking. as i tramp to the point or swing away back, in summer barefooted, in winter on my snowshoes, to myself i seem to be john york on the trail of the king's bugles. i've thought so much about the whole thing, i've read so many of john york's letters--and how many times one of the king's!--that now i scarcely know which is the bare story, and which the bit's i've dreamed as i've tramped over the plains or sat in the quiet at king's house, spelling out little by little the man's life, from the cues i found in his journal, in the company's papers, and in that one letter of the king's." pierre's eyes were now more keen than those of lawless: for years he had known vaguely of this legend of point o' bugles. "you know it all," he said--"begin at the beginning: how and when you first heard, how you got the real story, and never mind which is taken from the papers and which from your own mind--if it all fits in it is all true, for the lie never fits in right with the square truth. if you have the footprints and the handprints you can tell the whole man; if you have the horns of a deer you know it as if you had killed it, skinned it, and potted it." the stranger stretched himself before the fire, nodding at his hosts as he did so, and then began: "well, a word about myself first," he said, "so you'll know just where you are. i was full up of life in london town and india, and that's a fact. i'd plenty of friends and little money, and my will wasn't equal to the task of keeping out of the hands of the jews. i didn't know what to do, but i had to go somewhere, that was clear. where? an accident decided it. i came across an old journal of my great-grandfather, john york,--my name's dick adderley,--and just as if a chain had been put round my leg and i'd been jerked over by the tipping of the world, i had to come to hudson's bay. john york's journal was a thing to sit up nights to read. it came back to england after he'd had his fill of hudson's bay and the earth beneath, and had gone, as he himself said on the last page of the journal, to follow the king's buglers in 'the land that is far off.' god and the devil were strong in old john york. i didn't lose much time after i'd read the journal. i went to hudson's bay house in london, got a place in the company, by the help of the governor himself, and came out. i've learned the rest of the history of old john york--the part that never got to england; for here at king's house there's a holy tradition that the real john york belongs to it and to it alone." adderley laughed a little. "king's house guards john york's memory, and it's as fresh and real here now as though he'd died yesterday; though it's forgotten in england, and by most who bear his name, and the present prince of wales maybe never heard of the roan who was a close friend of the prince regent, the first gentleman of europe." "that sounds sweet gossip," said lawless, with a smile; "we're waiting." adderley continued: "john york was an honest man, of wholesome sport, jovial, and never shirking with the wine, commendable in his appetite, of rollicking soul and proud temper, and a gay dog altogether--gay, but to be trusted, too, for he had a royal heart. in the coltish days of the prince regent he was a boon comrade, but never did he stoop to flattery, nor would he hedge when truth should be spoken, as ofttimes it was needed with the royal blade, for at times he would forget that a prince was yet a man, topped with the accident of a crown. never prince had truer friend, and so in his best hours he thought, himself, and if he ever was just and showed his better part, it was to the bold country gentleman who never minced praise or blame, but said his say and devil take the end of it. in truth, the prince was wilful, and once he did a thing which might have given a twist to the fate of england. hot for the love of women, and with some dash of real romance in him too, else even as a prince he might have had shallower love and service,--he called john york one day and said: "'to-night at seven, squire john, you'll stand with me while i put the seal on the gates of eden;' and, when the other did not guess his import, added: 'sir mark selby is your neighbour--his daughter's for my arms tonight. you know her, handsome sally selby--she's for your prince, for good or ill.' "john york did not understand at first, for he could not think the prince had anything in mind but some hot escapade of love. when mistress selby's name was mentioned his heart stood still, for she had been his choice, the dear apple of his eye, since she had bloomed towards womanhood. he had set all his hopes upon her, tarrying till she should have seen some little life before he asked her for his wife. he had her father's godspeed to his wooing, for he was a man whom all men knew honest and generous as the sun, and only choleric with the mean thing. she, also, had given him good cause to think that he should one day take her to his home, a loved and honoured wife. his impulse, when her name passed the prince's lips, was to draw his sword, for he would have called an emperor to account; but presently he saw the real meaning of the speech: that the prince would marry her that night." here the story-teller paused again, and pierre said softly, inquiringly: "you began to speak in your own way, and you've come to another way--like going from an almanac to the mass." the other smiled. "that's so. i've heard it told by old shearton at king's house, who speaks as if he'd stepped out of shakespeare, and somehow i seem to hear him talking, and i tell it as he told it last year to the governor of the company. besides, i've listened these seven years to his style." "it's a strange beginning--unwritten history of england," said sir duke musingly. "you shall hear stranger things yet," answered adderley. "john york could hardly believe it at first, for the thought of such a thing never had place in his mind. besides, the prince knew how he had looked upon the lady, and he could not have thought his comrade would come in between him and his happiness. perhaps it was the difficulty, adding spice to the affair, that sent the prince to the appeal of private marriage to win the lady, and john york always held that he loved her truly then, the first and only real affection of his life. the lady--who can tell what won her over from the honest gentleman to the faithless prince? that soul of vanity which wraps about the real soul of every woman fell down at last before the highest office in the land, and the gifted bearer of the office. but the noble spirit in her brought him to offer marriage, when he might otherwise have offered, say, a barony. there is a record of that and more in john york's memoirs which i will tell you, for they have settled in my mind like an old song, and i learned them long ago. i give you john york's words written by his own hands: "'i did not think when i beheld thee last, dearest flower of the world's garden, that i should see thee bloom in that wide field, rank with the sorrows of royal favour. how did my foolish eyes fill with tears when i watched thee, all rose and gold in thy cheeks and hair, the light falling on thee through the chapel window, putting thy pure palm into my prince's, swearing thy life away, selling the very blossoms of earth's orchards for the brier beauty of a hidden vineyard! i saw the flying glories of thy cheeks, the halcyon weather of thy smile, the delicate lifting of thy bosom, the dear gaiety of thy step, and, at that moment, i mourned for thy sake that thou wert not the dullest wench in the land, for then thou hadst been spared thy miseries, thou hadst been saved the torture-boot of a lost love and a disacknowledged wifedom. yet i could not hide from me that thou wert happy at that great moment, when he swore to love and cherish thee, till death you parted. "ah, george, my prince, my king, how wickedly thou didst break thy vows with both of us who loved thee well, through good and ill report--for they spake evil of thee, george; ay, the meanest of thy subjects spake lightly of their king--when with that sweet soul secretly hid away in the farthest corner of thy kingdom, thou soughtst divorce from thy later caroline, whom thou, unfaithful, didst charge with infidelity. when, at last, thou didst turn again to the partner of thy youth, thy true wife in the eyes of god, it was too late. thou didst promise me that thou wouldst never take another wife, never put our dear heart away, though she could not--after our miserable laws--bear thee princes. thou didst break thy promise, yet she forgave thee, and i forgave thee, for well we knew that thou wouldst pay a heavy reckoning, and that in the hour when thou shouldst cry to us we might not come to thee; that in the days when age and sorrow and vast troubles should oppress thee, thou wouldst long for the true hearts who loved thee for thyself and not for aught thou wudst give, or aught that thou wert, save as a man. "'when thou didst proclaim thy purpose to take caroline to wife, i pleaded with thee, i was wroth with thee. thy one plea was succession. succession! succession! what were a hundred dynasties beside that precious life, eaten by shame and sorrow? it were easy for others, not thy children, to come after thee, to rule as well as thee, as must even now be the case, for thou hast no lawful child save that one in the loneliest corner of thy english vineyard--alack! alack! i warned thee george, i pleaded, and thou didst drive me out with words ill-suited to thy friend who loved thee. "'i did not fear thee, i would have forced thee to thy knees or made thee fight me, had not some good spirit cried to my heart that thou wert her husband, and that we both had loved thee. i dared not listen to the brutal thing thou hintedst at--that now i might fatten where i had hungered. thou hadst to answer for the baseness of that thought to the king of kings, when thou wentest forth alone, no subject, courtier, friend, wife, or child to do thee service, journeying--not en prince, george; no, not en prince! but as a naked soul to god. "'thou saidst to me: "get thee gone, john york, where i shall no more see thee." and when i returned, "wouldst thou have me leave thy country, sir?" thou answeredst: "blow thy quarrelsome soul to the stars where my farthest bugle cries." then i said: "i go, sir, till thou callest me again--and after; but not till thou hast honoured the child of thy honest wedlock; till thou hast secured thy wife to the end of her life against all manner of trouble save the shame of thy disloyalty." there was no more for me to do, for my deep love itself forbade my staying longer within reach of the noble deserted soul. and so i saw the chastened glory of her face no more, nor evermore beheld her perfectness.'" adderley paused once more, and, after refilling his pipe in silence, continued: "that was the heart of the thing. his soul sickened of the rank world, as he called it, and he came out to the hudson's bay country, leaving his estates in care of his nephew, but taking many stores and great chests of clothes and a shipload of furniture, instruments of music, more than a thousand books, some good pictures, and great stores of wine. here he came and stayed, an officer of the company, building king's house, and filling it with all the fine things he had brought with him, making in this far north a little palace in the wilderness. here he lived, his great heart growing greater in this wide sinewy world, king's house a place of pilgrimage for all the company's men in the north; a noble gentleman in a sweet exile, loving what he could no more, what he did no more, see. "twice a year he went to that point yonder and blew this bugle, no man knew why or wherefore, year in, year out, till 1817. then there came a letter to him with great seals, which began: 'john york, john york, where art thou gone, john york?' there followed a score of sorrowful sentences, full of petulance, too, for it was as john york foretold, his prince longed for the 'true souls' whom he had cast off. but he called too late, for the neglected wife died from the shock of her prince's longing message to her, and when, by the same mail, john york knew that, he would not go back to england to the king. but twice every year he went to yonder point and spoke out the king's words to him: 'john york, john york, where art thou gone, john york?' and gave the words of his own letter in reply: 'king of my heart, king of my heart, i am out on the trail of thy bugles.' to this he added three calls of the bugle, as you have heard." adderley handed the bugle to lawless, who looked at it with deep interest and passed it on to pierre. "when he died," adderley continued, "he left the house, the fittings, and the stores to the officers of the company who should be stationed there, with a sum of money yearly, provided that twice in twelve months the bugle should be blown as you have heard it, and those words called out." "why did he do that?" asked lawless, nodding towards the point. "why do they swing the censers at the mass?" interjected pierre. "man has signs for memories, and one man seeing another's sign will remember his own." "you stay because you like it--at king's house?" asked lawless of adderley. the other stretched himself lazily to the fire and, "i am at home," he said. "i have no cares. i had all there was of that other world; i've not had enough of this. you'll come with me to king's house to-morrow?" he added. to their quick assent he rejoined: "you'll never want to leave. you'll stay on." to this lawless replied, shaking his head: "i have a wife and child in england." but pierre did not reply. he lifted the bugle, mutely asking a question of adderley, who as mutely replied, and then, with it in his hand, left the other two beside the fire. a few minutes later they heard, with three calls of the bugle from the point afterwards, pierre's voice: "john york, john york, where art thou gone, john york?" then came the reply: "king of my heart, king of my heart, i am out on the trail of thy bugles." the spoil of the puma just at the point where the peace river first hugs the vast outpost hills of the rockies, before it hurries timorously on, through an unexplored region, to fort st. john, there stood a hut. it faced the west, and was built half-way up clear mountain. in winter it had snows above it and below it; in summer it had snow above it and a very fair stretch of trees and grass, while the river flowed on the same, winter and summer. it was a lonely country. travelling north, you would have come to the turnagain river; west, to the frying pan mountains; south, to a goodly land. but from the hut you had no outlook towards the south; your eye came plump against a hard lofty hill, like a wall between heaven and earth. it is strange, too, that, when you are in the far north, you do not look towards the south until the north turns an iron hand upon you and refuses the hospitality of food and fire; your eyes are drawn towards the pole by that charm--deadly and beautiful--for which men have given up three points of the compass, with their pleasures and ease, to seek a grave solitude, broken only by the beat of a musk-ox's hoofs, the long breath of the caribou, or the wild cry of the puma. sir duke lawless had felt this charm, and had sworn that one day he would again leave his home in devon and his house in pont street, and, finding pierre, shon m'gann, and others of his old comrades, together they would travel into those austere yet pleasant wilds. he kept his word, found shon m'gann, and on an autumn day of a year not so long ago lounged in this hut on clear mountain. they had had three months of travel and sport, and were filled, but not sated, with the joy of the hunter. they were very comfortable, for their host, pourcette, the french canadian, had fire and meat in plenty, and, if silent, was attentive to their comfort--a little, black-bearded, grey-headed man, with heavy brows over small vigilant eyes, deft with his fingers, and an excellent sportsman, as could be told from the skins heaped in all the corners of the large hut. the skins were not those of mere foxes or martens or deer, but of mountain lions and grizzlies. there were besides many soft, tiger-like skins, which sir duke did not recognise. he kept looking at them, and at last went over and examined one. "what's this, monsieur pourcette?" he said, feeling it as it lay on the top of the pile. the little man pushed the log on the fireplace with his moccasined foot before he replied: "of a puma, m'sieu'." sir duke smoothed it with his hand. "i didn't know there were pumas here." "faith, sir duke--" sir duke lawless turned on shon quickly. "you're forgetting again, shon. there's no 'sir dukes' between us. what you were to me years ago on the wally-by-track and the buffalo-trail, you are now, and i'm the same also: m'gann and lawless, and no other." "well, then, lawless, it's true enough as he says it, for i've seen more than wan skin brought in, though i niver clapped eye on the beast alive. there's few men go huntin' them av their own free will, not more than they do grizzlies; but, bedad, this french gintleman has either the luck o' the world, or the gift o' that man ye tould me of, that slew the wild boars in anciency. look at that, now: there's thirty or forty pumaskins, and i'd take my oath there isn't another man in the country that's shot half that in his lifetime." pourcette's eyes were on the skins, not on the men, and he did not appear to listen. he sat leaning forward, with a strange look on his face. presently he got up, came over, and stroked the skins softly. a queer chuckling noise came from his throat. "it was good sport?" asked lawless, feeling a new interest in him. "the grandest sport--but it is not so easy," answered the old man. "the grizzly comes on you bold and strong; you know your danger right away, and have it out. so. but the puma comes--god, how the puma comes!" he broke off, his eyes burning bright under his bushy brows and his body arranging itself into an attitude of expectation and alertness. "you have travelled far. the sun goes down. you build a fire and cook your meat, and then good tea and the tabac. it is ver' fine. you hear the loon crying on the water, or the last whistle of the heron up the pass. the lights in the sky come out and shine through a thin mist-there is nothing like that mist, it is so fine and soft. allons. you are sleepy. you bless the good god. you stretch pine branches, wrap in your blanket, and lie down to sleep. if it is winter and you have a friend, you lie close. it is all quiet. as you sleep, something comes. it slides along the ground on its belly, like a snake. it is a pity if you have not ears that feel--the whole body as ears. for there is a swift lunge, a snarl--ah, you should hear it! the thing has you by the throat, and there is an end!" the old man had acted all the scenes: a sidelong glance, a little gesture, a movement of the body, a quick, harsh breath--without emphatic excitement, yet with a reality and force that fascinated his two listeners. when he paused, shon let go a long breath, and lawless looked with keen inquiry at their entertainer. this almost unnatural, yet quiet, intensity had behind it something besides the mere spirit of the sportsman. such exhibitions of feeling generally have an unusual personal interest to give them point and meaning. "yes, that's wonderful, pourcette," he said; "but that's when the puma has things its own way. how is it when these come off?" he stroked the soft furs under his hand. the man laughed, yet without a sound--the inward, stealthy laugh, as from a knowledge wicked in its very suggestiveness. his eyes ran from lawless to shon, and back again. he put his hand on his mouth, as though for silence, stole noiselessly over to the wall, took down his gun quietly, and turned round. then he spoke softly: "to kill the puma, you must watch--always watch. you will see his yellow eyes sometimes in a tree: you must be ready before he springs. you will hear his breath at night as you pretend to sleep, and you wait till you see his foot steal out of the shadow--then you have him. from a mountain wall you watch in the morning, and, when you see him, you follow, and follow, and do not rest till you have found him. you must never miss fire, for he has great strength and a mad tooth. but when you have got him, he is worth all. you cannot eat the grizzly--he is too thick and coarse; but the puma--well, you had him from the pot to-night. was he not good?" lawless's brows ran up in surprise. shon spoke quickly: "heaven above!" he burst out. "was it puma we had betune the teeth? and what's puma but an almighty cat? sure, though, it wint as tinder as pullets, for all that--but i wish you hadn't tould us." the old man stood leaning on his gun, his chin on his hands, as they covered the muzzle, his eyes fixed on something in his memory, the vision of incidents he had lived or seen. lawless went over to the fire and relit his pipe. shon followed him. they both watched pourcette. "d'ye think he's mad?" asked shon in a whisper. lawless shook his head: "mad? no. but there's more in this puma-hunting than appears. how long has he lived here, did he say?" "four years; and, durin' that time, yours and mine are the only white faces he has seen, except one." "except one. well, whose was the one? that might be interesting. maybe there's a story in that." "faith, lawless, there's a story worth the hearin', i'm thinkin', to every white man in this country. for the three years i was in the mounted police, i could count a story for all the days o' the calendar --and not all o' them would make you happy to hear." pourcette turned round to them. he seemed to be listening to shon's words. going to the wall, he hung up the rifle; then he came to the fire and stood holding out his hands to the blaze. he did not look in the least mad, but like a man who was dominated by some one thought, more or less weird. short and slight, and a little bent, but more from habit --the habit of listening and watching--than from age, his face had a stern kind of earnestness and loneliness, and nothing at all of insanity. presently lawless went to a corner and from his kit drew forth a flask. the old man saw, and immediately brought out a wooden cup. there were two on the shelf, and shon pointed to the other. pourcette took no notice. shon went over to get it, but pourcette laid a hand on his arm: "not that." "for ornamint!" said shon, laughing, and then his eyes were arrested by a suit of buckskin and a cap of beaver, hanging on the wall. he turned them over, and then suddenly drew back his hand, for he saw in the back of the jacket a knife-slit. there was blood also on the buckskin. "holy mary!" he said, and retreated. lawless had not noticed; he was pouring out the liquor. he had handed the cup first to pourcette, who raised it towards a gun hung above the fireplace, and said something under his breath. "a dramatic little fellow," thought lawless; "the spirit of his forefathers--a good deal of heart, a little of the poseur." then hearing shon's exclamation, he turned. "it's an ugly sight," said shon, pointing to the jacket. they both looked at pourcette, expecting him to speak. the old man reached to the coat, and, turning it so that the cut and the blood were hid, ran his hand down it caressingly. "ah, poor jo! poor jo gordineer!" he said; then he came over once more to the fire, sat down, and held out his hands to the fire, shaking his head. "for god's sake, lawless, give me a drink!" said shon. their eyes met, and there was the same look in the faces of both. when shon had drunk, he said: "so, that's what's come to our old friend, jo: dead--killed or murdered--" "don't speak so loud," said lawless. "let us get the story from him first." years before, when shon m'gann and pierre and lawless had sojourned in the pipi valley, jo gordineer had been with them, as stupid and true a man as ever drew in his buckle in a hungry land, or let it out to munch corn and oil. when lawless returned to find shon and others of his companions, he had asked for gordineer. but not shon nor anyone else could tell aught of him; he had wandered north to outlying goldfields, and then had disappeared completely. but there, as it would seem, his coat and cap hung, and his rifle, dust-covered, kept guard over the fire. shon went over to the coat, did as pourcette had done, and said: "is it gone y'are, jo, wid your slow tongue and your big heart? wan by wan the lads are off." pourcette, without any warning, began speaking, but in a very quiet tone at first, as if unconscious of the others: "poor jo gordineer! yes, he is gone. he was my friend--so tall, and such a hunter! we were at the ding dong goldfields together. when luck went bad, i said to him: 'come, we will go where there is plenty of wild meat, and a summer more beautiful than in the south.' i did not want to part from him, for once, when some miner stole my claim, and i fought, he stood by me. but in some things he was a little child. that was from his big heart. well, he would go, he said; and we came away." he suddenly became silent; and shook his head, and spoke under his breath. "yes," said lawless quietly, "you went away. what then?" he looked up quickly, as though just aware of their presence, and continued: "well, the other followed, as i said, and--" "no, pourcette," interposed lawless, "you didn't say. who was the other that followed?" the old man looked at him gravely, and a little severely, and continued: "as i said, gawdor followed--he and an indian. gawdor thought we were going for gold, because i had said i knew a place in the north where there was gold in a river--i know the place, but that is no matter. we did not go for gold just then. gawdor hated jo gordineer. there was a half-breed girl. she was fine to look at. she would have gone to gordineer if he had beckoned, any time; but he waited--he was very slow, except with his finger on a gun; he waited too long. "gawdor was mad for the girl. he knew why her feet came slow to the door when he knocked. he would have quarrelled with jo, if he had dared; gordineer was too quick a shot. he would have killed him from behind; but it was known in the camp that he was no friend of gordineer, and it was not safe." again pourcette was silent. lawless put on his knee a new pipe, filled with tobacco. the little man took it, lighted it, and smoked on in silence for a time undisturbed. shon broke the silence, by a whisper to lawless: "jo was a quiet man, as patient as a priest; but when his blood came up, there was trouble in the land. do you remimber whin--" lawless interrupted him and motioned towards pourcette. the old man, after a few puffs, held the pipe on his knee, disregarding it. lawless silently offered him some more whisky, but he shook his head. presently, he again took up the thread: "bien, we travelled slow up through the smoky river country, and beyond into a wild land. we had bully sport as we went. sometimes i heard shots far away behind us; but gordineer said it was my guess, for we saw nobody. but i had a feeling. never mind. at last we come to the peace river. it was in the early autumn like this, when the land is full of comfort. what is there like it? nothing. the mountains have colours like a girl's eyes; the smell of the trees is sweet like a child's breath, and the grass feels for the foot and lifts it with a little soft spring. we said we could live here for ever. we built this house high up, as you see, first, because it is good to live high--it puts life in the blood; and, as gordineer said, it is noble to look far over the world, every time your house-door is open, or the parchment is down from the window. we killed wapiti and caribou without number, and cached them for our food. we caught fish in the river, and made tea out of the brown berry--it is very good. we had flour, a little, which we had brought with us, and i went to fort st. john and got more. since then, down in the valley, i have wheat every summer; for the chinook winds blow across the mountains and soften the bitter cold. "well, for that journey to fort st. john. when i got back i found gawdor with gordineer. he said he had come north to hunt. his indian had left, and he had lost his way. gordineer believed him. he never lied himself. i said nothing, but watched. after a time he asked where the gold-field was. i told him, and he started away--it was about fifty miles to the north. he went, and on his way back he come here. he say he could not find the place, and was going south. i know he lied. at this time i saw that gordineer was changed. he was slow in the head, and so, when he began thinking up here, it made him lonely. it is always in a fine land like this, where game is plenty, and the heart dances for joy in your throat, and you sit by the fire--that you think of some woman who would be glad to draw in and tie the strings of the tent-curtain, or fasten the latch of the door upon you two alone." perhaps some memory stirred within the old man, other than that of his dead comrade, for he sighed, muffled his mouth in his beard, and then smiled in a distant way at the fire. the pure truth of what he said came home to shon m'gann and sir duke lawless; for both, in days gone by, had sat at camp-fires in silent plains, and thought upon women from whom they believed they were parted for ever, yet who were only kept from them for a time, to give them happier days. they were thinking of these two women now. they scarcely knew how long they sat there thinking. time passes swiftly when thoughts are cheerful, or are only tinged with the soft melancholy of a brief separation. memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy. at last the old man continued: "i saw the thing grew on him. he was not sulky, but he stare much in the fire at night. in the daytime he was differen'. a hunter thinks only of his sport. gawdor watched him. gordineer's hand was steady; his nerve was all right. i have seen him stand still till a grizzly come within twice the length of his gun. then he would twist his mouth, and fire into the mortal spot. once we were out in the wide wing pass. we had never had such a day. gordineer make grand shots, better than my own; and men have said i can shoot like the devil--ha! ha!" he chuckled to himself noiselessly, and said in a whisper "twenty grizzlies, and fifty pumas!" then he rubbed his hands softly on his knees, and spoke aloud again: "ici, i was proud of him. we were standing together on a ledge of rock. gawdor was not far away. gawdor was a poor hunter, and i knew he was wild at gordineer's great luck.... a splendid bull-wapiti come out on a rock across the gully. it was a long shot. i did not think gordineer could make it; i was not sure that i could--the wind was blowing and the range was long. but he draw up his gun like lightning, and fire all at once. the bull dropped clean over the cliff, and tumbled dead upon the rocks below. it was fine. but, then, gordineer slung his gun under his arm, and say: 'that is enough. i am going to the hut.' "he went away. that night he did not talk. the next morning, when i say, 'we will be off again to the pass,' he shake his head. he would not go. he would shoot no more, he said. i understood: it was the girl. he was wide awake at last. gawdor understanded also. he know that gordineer would go to the south--to her. "i was sorry; but it was no use. gawdor went with me to the pass. when we come back, jo was gone. on a bit of birch-bark he had put where he was going, and the way he would take. he said he would come back to me --ah, the brave comrade! gawdor say nothing, but his looks were black. i had a feeling. i sat up all night, smoking. i was not afraid, but i know gawdor had found the valley of gold, and he might put a knife in me, because to know of such a thing alone is fine. just at dawn, he got up and go out. he did not come back. "i waited, and at last went to the pass. in the afternoon, just as i was rounding the corner of a cliff, there was a shot--then another. the first went by my head; the second caught me along the ribs, but not to great hurt. still, i fell from the shock, and lost some blood. it was gawdor; he thought he had killed me. "when i come to myself i bound up the little furrow in the flesh, and start away. i know that gawdor would follow gordineer. i follow him, knowing the way he must take. i have never forget the next night. i had to travel hard, and i track him by his fires and other things. when sunset come, i do not stop. i was in a valley, and i push on. there was a little moon. at last i saw a light ahead-a camp-fire, i know. i was weak, and could have dropped; but a dread was on me. "i come to the fire. i saw a man lying near it. just as i saw him, he was trying to rise. but, as he did so, something sprang out of the shadow upon him, at his throat. i saw him raise his hand, and strike it with a knife. the thing let go, and then i fire--but only scratched, i think. it was a puma. it sprang away again, into the darkness. i ran to the man, and raised him. it was my friend. he looked up at me and shake his head. he was torn at the throat.... but there was something else--a wound in the back. he was stooping over the fire when he was stabbed, and he fell. he saw that it was gawdor. he had been left for dead, as i was. nom de dieu! just when i come and could have save him, the puma come also. it is the best men who have such luck. i have seen it often. i used to wonder they did not curse god." he crossed himself and mumbled something. lawless rose, and walked up and down the room once or twice, pulling at his beard and frowning. his eyes were wet. shon kept blowing into his closed hand and blinking at the fire. pourcette got up and took down the gun from the chimney. he brushed off the dust with his coat-sleeve, and fondled it, shaking his head at it a little. as he began to speak again, lawless sat down. "now i know why they do not curse. something curses for them. jo give me a word for her, and say 'well, it is all right; but i wish i had killed the puma.' there was nothing more. . . . i followed gawdor for days. i know that he would go and get someone, and go back to the gold. i thought at last i had missed him; but no. i had made up my mind what to do when i found him. one night, just as the moon was showing over the hills, i come upon him. i was quiet as a puma. i have a stout cord in my pocket, and another about my body. just as he was stooping over the fire, as gordineer did, i sprang upon him, clasping him about the neck, and bringing him to the ground. he could not get me off. i am small, but i have a grip. then, too, i had one hand at his throat. it was no use to struggle. the cord and a knife were in my teeth. it was a great trick, but his breath was well gone, and i fastened his hands. it was no use to struggle. i tied his feet and legs. then i carried him to a tree and bound him tight. i unfastened his hands again and tied them round the tree. then i built a great fire not far away. he begged at first and cried. but i was hard. he got wild, and at last when i leave him he cursed! it was like nothing i ever heard. he was a devil. . . i come back after i have carry the message to the poor girl--it is a sad thing to see the first great grief of the young! gawdor was not there. the pumas and others had been with him. "there was more to do. i wanted to kill that puma which set its teeth in the throat of my friend. i hunted the woods where it had happened, beating everywhere, thinking that, perhaps, it was dead. there was not much blood on the leaves, so i guessed that it had not died. i hunted from that spot, and killed many--many. i saw that they began to move north. at last i got back here. from here i have hunted and killed them slow; but never that one with a wound in the shoulder from jo's knife. still, i can wait. there is nothing like patience for the hunter and for the man who would have blood for blood." he paused, and lawless spoke. "and when you have killed that puma, pourcette--if you ever do-what then?" pourcette fondled the gun, then rose and hung it up again before he replied. "then i will go to fort st. john, to the girl--she is there with her father--and sell all the skins to the factor, and give her the money." he waved his hand round the room. "there are many skins here, but i have more cached not far away. once a year i go to the fort for flour and bullets. a dog-team and a bois-brule bring them, and then i am alone as before. when all that is done i will come back." "and then, pourcette?" said shon. "then i will hang that one skin over the chimney where his gun is--and go out and kill more pumas. what else can one do? when i stop killing i shall be killed. a million pumas and their skins are not worth the life of my friend." lawless looked round the room, at the wooden cup, the gun, the bloodstained clothes on the wall, and the skins. he got up, came over, and touched pourcette on the shoulder. "little man," he said, "give it up, and come with me. come to fort st. john, sell the skins, give the money to the girl, and then let us travel to the barren grounds together, and from there to the south country again. you will go mad up here. you have killed enough--gawdor and many pumas. if jo could speak, he would say, give it up. i knew jo. he was my good friend before he was yours--mine and m'gann's here--and we searched for him to travel with us. he would have done so, i think, for we had sport and trouble of one kind and another together. and he would have asked you to come also. well, do so, little man. we haven't told you our names. i am sir duke lawless, and this is shon m'gann." pourcette nodded: "i do not know how it come to me, but i was sure from the first you are his friends. he speak often of you and of two others --where are they?" lawless replied, and, at the name of pretty pierre, shon hid his forehead in his hand, in a troubled way. "and you will come with us," said lawless, "away from this loneliness?" "it is not lonely," was the reply. "to hear the thrum of the pigeon, the whistle of the hawk, the chatter of the black squirrel, and the long cry of the eagle, is not lonely. then, there is the river and the pines--all music; and for what the eye sees, god has been good; and to kill pumas is my joy. . . . so, i cannot go. these hills are mine. few strangers come, and none stop but me. still, to-morrow or any day, i will show you the way to the valley where the gold is. perhaps riches is there, perhaps not, you shall find." lawless saw that it was no use to press the matter. the old man had but one idea, and nothing could ever change it. solitude fixes our hearts immovably on things--call it madness, what you will. in busy life we have no real or lasting dreams, no ideals. we have to go to the primeval hills and the wild plains for them. when we leave the hills and the plains, we lose them again. shon was, however, for the valley of gold. he was a poor man, and it would be a joyful thing for him if one day he could empty ample gold into his wife's lap. lawless was not greedy, but he and good gold were not at variance. "see," said shon, "the valley's the thing. we can hunt as we go, and if there's gold for the scrapin', why, there y'are--fill up and come again. if not, divil the harm done. so here's thumbs up to go, say i. but i wish, lawless, i wish that i'd niver known how jo wint off, an' i wish we were all t'gither agin, as down in the pipi valley." "there's nothing stands in this world, shon, but the faith of comrades and the truth of good women. the rest hangs by a hair. i'll go to the valley with you. it's many a day since i washed my luck in a gold-pan." "i will take you there," said pourcette, suddenly rising, and, with shy abrupt motions grasping their hands and immediately letting them go again. "i will take you to-morrow." then he spread skins upon the floor, put wood upon the fire, and the three were soon asleep. the next morning, just as the sun came laboriously over the white peak of a mountain, and looked down into the great gulch beneath the hut, the three started. for many hours they crept along the side of the mountain, then came slowly down upon pine-crested hills, and over to where a small plain stretched out. it was pourcette's little farm. its position was such that it caught the sun always, and was protected from the north and east winds. tall shafts of indian corn with their yellow tassels were still standing, and the stubble of the field where the sickle had been showed in the distance like a carpet of gold. it seemed strange to lawless that this old man beside him should be thus peaceful in his habits, the most primitive and arcadian of farmers, and yet one whose trade was blood--whose one purpose in life was destruction and vengeance. they pushed on. towards the end of the day they came upon a little herd of caribou, and had excellent sport. lawless noticed that pourcette seemed scarcely to take any aim at all, so swift and decisive was his handling of the gun. they skinned the deer and cached them, and took up the journey again. for four days they travelled and hunted alternately. pourcette had shot two mountain lions, but they had seen no pumas. on the morning of the fifth day they came upon the valley where the gold was. there was no doubt about it. a beautiful little stream ran through it, and its bed was sprinkled with gold--a goodly sight to a poor man like shon, interesting enough to lawless. for days, while lawless and pourcette hunted, shon laboured like a galley-slave, making the little specks into piles, and now and again crowning a pile with a nugget. the fever of the hunter had passed from him, and another fever was on him. the others urged him to come away. the winter would soon be hard on them; he must go, and he and lawless would return in the spring. prevailing on him at last, they started back to clear mountain. the first day shon was abstracted. he carried the gold he had gathered in a bag wound about his body. it was heavy, and he could not travel fast. one morning, pourcette, who had been off in the hills, came to say that he had sighted a little herd of wapiti. shon had fallen and sprained his arm the evening before (gold is heavy to carry), and he did not go with the others. he stayed and dreamed of his good fortune, and of his home. in the late afternoon he lay down in the sun beside the camp-fire and fell asleep from much thinking. lawless and pourcette had little success. the herd had gone before they arrived. they beat the hills, and turned back to camp at last, without fret, like good sportsmen. at a point they separated, to come down upon the camp at different angles, in the hope of still getting a shot. the camp lay exposed upon a platform of the mountain. lawless came out upon a ledge of rock opposite the camp, a gulch lying between. he looked across. he was in the shadow, the other wall of the gulch was in the sun. the air was incomparably clear and fresh, with an autumnal freshness. everything stood out distinct and sharply outlined, nothing flat or blurred. he saw the camp, and the fire, with the smoke quivering up in a diffusing blue column, shon lying beside it. he leaned upon his rifle musingly. the shadows of the pines were blue and cold, but the tops of them were burnished with the cordial sun, and a glacierfield, somehow, took on a rose and violet light, reflected, maybe, from the soft-complexioned sky. he drew in a long breath of delight, and widened his line of vision. suddenly, something he saw made him lurch backward. at an angle in almost equal distance from him and shon, upon a small peninsula of rock, a strange thing was happening. old pourcette was kneeling, engaged with his moccasin. behind him was the sun, against which he was abruptly defined, looking larger than usual. clear space and air soft with colour were about him. across this space, on a little sloping plateau near him, there crept an animal. it seemed to lawless that he could see the lithe stealthiness of its muscles and the ripple of its skin. but that was imagination, because he was too far away. he cried out, and swung his gun shoulderwards in desperation. but, at the moment, pourcette turned sharply round, saw his danger, caught his gun, and fired as the puma sprang. there had been no chance for aim, and the beast was only wounded. it dropped upon the man. he let the gun fall; it rolled and fell over the cliff. then came a scene, wicked in its peril to pourcette, for whom no aid could come, though two men stood watching the great fight--shon m'gann, awake now, and lawless--with their guns silent in their hands. they dare not fire, for fear of injuring the man, and they could not reach him in time to be of help. there against the weird solitary sky the man and the puma fought. when the animal dropped on him, pourcette caught it by the throat with both hands, and held back its fangs; but its claws were furrowing the flesh of his breast and legs. his long arms were of immense strength, and though the pain of his torn flesh was great he struggled grandly with the beast, and bore it away, from his body. as he did so he slightly changed the position of one hand. it came upon a welt-a scar. when he felt that, new courage and strength seemed given him. he gave a low growl like an animal, and then, letting go one hand, caught at the knife in his belt. as he did so the puma sprang away from him, and crouched upon the rock, making ready for another leap. lawless and shon could see its tail curving and beating. but now, to their astonishment, the man was the aggressor. he was filled with a fury which knows nothing of fear. the welt his fingers had felt burned them. he came slowly upon the puma. lawless could see the hard glitter of his knife. the puma's teeth sawed together, its claws picked at the rocks, its body curved for a spring. the man sprang first, and ran the knife in; but not into a mortal corner. once more they locked. the man's fingers were again at the puma's throat, and they swayed together, the claws of the beast making surface havoc. but now as they stood up, to the eyes of the fearful watchers inextricably mixed, the man lunged again with his knife, and this time straight into the heart of the murderer. the puma loosened, quivered, fell back dead. the man rose to his feet with a cry, and his hands stretched above his head, as it were in a kind of ecstasy. shon forgot his gold and ran; lawless hurried also. when the two men got to the spot they found pourcette binding up his wounds. he came to his feet, heedless of his hurts, and grasped their hands. "come, come, my friends, and see," he cried. he pulled forward the loose skin on the puma's breast and showed them the scar of a knife-wound above the one his own knife had made. "i've got the other murderer," he said; "gordineer's knife went in here. sacre, but it is good!" pourcette's flesh needed little medicine; he did not feel his pain and stiffness. when they reached clear mountain, bringing with them the skin which was to hang above the fireplace, pourcette prepared to go to fort st. john, as he had said he would, to sell all the skins and give the proceeds to the girl. "when that's done," said lawless, "you will have no reason for staying here. if you will come with us after, we will go to the fort with you. we three will then come back in the spring to the valley of gold for sport and riches." he spoke lightly, yet seriously too. the old man shook his head. "i have thought," he said. "i cannot go to the south. i am a hunter now, nothing more. i have been long alone; i do not wish for change. i shall remain at clear mountain when these skins have gone to fort st. john, and if you come to me in the spring or at any time, my door will open to you, and i will share all with you. gordineer was a good man. you are good men. i'll remember you, but i can't go with you--no. "some day you would leave me to go to the women who wait for you, and then i should be alone again. i will not change--vraiment!" on the morning they left, he took jo gordineer's cup from the shelf, and from a hidden place brought out a flask half filled with liquor. he poured out a little in the cup gravely, and handed it to lawless, but lawless gave it back to him. "you must drink from it," he said, "not me." he held out the cup of his own flask. when each of the three had a share, the old man raised his long arm solemnly, and said in a tone so gentle that the others hardly recognised his voice: "to a lost comrade!" they drank in silence. "a little gentleman!" said lawless, under his breath. when they were ready to start, lawless said to him at the last: "what will you do here, comrade, as the days go on?" "there are pumas in the mountains," he replied. they parted from him upon the ledge where the great fight had occurred, and travelled into the east. turning many times, they saw him still standing there. at a point where they must lose sight of him, they looked for the last time. he was alone with his solitary hills, leaning on his rifle. they fired two shots into the air. they saw him raise his rifle, and two faint reports came in reply. he became again immovable: as much a part of those hills as the shining glacier; never to leave them. in silence the two rounded the cliff, and saw him no more. the trail of the sun dogs swell, you see," said jacques parfaite, as he gave whiskey wine, the leading dog, a cut with the whip and twisted his patois to the uses of narrative, "he has been alone there at the old fort for a long time. i remember when i first see him. it was in the summer. the world smell sweet if you looked this way or that. if you drew in your breath quick from the top of a hill you felt a great man. ridley, the chief trader, and myself have come to the fort on our way to the mackenzie river. in the yard of the fort the grass have grown tall, and sprung in the cracks under the doors and windows; the fort have not been use for a long time. once there was plenty of buffalo near, and the caribou sometimes; but they were all gone--only a few. the indians never went that way, only when the seasons were the best. the company have close the post; it did not pay. still, it was pleasant after a long tramp to come to even an empty fort. we know dam' well there is food buried in the yard or under the floor, and it would be droll to open the place for a day--lost man's tavern, we called it. well--" "well, what?" said sir duke lawless, who had travelled up to the barren grounds for the sake of adventure and game; and, with his old friend, shon m'gann, had trusted himself to the excellent care of jacques parfaite, the half-breed. jacques cocked his head on one side and shook it wisely and mysteriously. "tres bien, we trailed through the long grass, pried open the shutters and door, and went in. it is cool in the north of an evening, as you know. we build a fire, and soon there is very fine times. ridley pried up the floor, and we found good things. holy! but it was a feast. we had a little rum also. as we talk and a great laugh swim round, there come a noise behind us like shuffling feet. we got to our legs quick. mon dieu, a strange sight! a man stand looking at us with something in his face that make my fingers cold all at once--a look--well you would think it was carved in stone--it never change. once i was at fort garry; the church of st. mary is there. they have a picture in it of the great scoundrel judas as he went to hang himself. judas was a fool--what was thirty dollars!--you give me hunder' to take you to the barren grounds. pah!" the half-breed chuckled, shook his head sagely, swore half-way through his vocabulary at whiskey wine, gratefully received a pipe of tobacco from shon m'gann, and continued: "he come in on us slow and still, and push out long thin hands, the fingers bent like claws, towards the pot. he was starving. yes, it was so; but i nearly laugh. it was spring-a man is a fool to starve in the spring. but he was differen'. there was a cause. the factor give him soup from the pot and a little rum. he was mad for meat, but that would have kill him--yes. he did not look at you like a man. "when you are starving, you are an animal. but there was something more with this.--he made the flesh creep, he was so thin, and strange, and sulky--eh, is that a word when the face looks dark and never smiles? so. he would not talk. when we ask him where he come from, he points to the north; when we ask him where he is going, he shake his head as he not know. a man is mad not to know where he travel to up here; something comes quick to him unless, and it is not good to die too soon. the trader said, 'come with us.' he shake his head, no. 'p'r'aps you want to stay here,' said ridley loud, showing his teeth all in a minute. he nod. then the trader laugh thick in his throat and give him more soup. after, he try to make the man talk; but he was stubborn like that dirty whiskey wine--ah, sacre bleu!" whiskey wine had his usual portion of whip and anathema before jacques again took up the thread. "it was no use. he would not talk. when the trader get angry once more, he turned to me, and the look in his face make me sorry. i swore--ridley did not mind that, i was thick friends with him. i say, 'keep still. it is no good. he has had bad times. he has been lost, and seen mad things. he will never be again like when god make him.' very well, i spoke true. he was like a sun dog." "what's that ye say, parfaite?" said shon--"a sun dog?" sir duke lawless, puzzled, listened eagerly for the reply. the half-breed in delight ran before them, cracking his whip and jingling the bells at his knees. "ah, that's it! it is a name we have for some. you do not know? it is easy. in the high-up country"--pointing north"-you see sometimes many suns. but it is not many after all; it is only one; and the rest are the same as your face in looking-glasses--one, two, three, plenty. you see?" "yes," said sir duke, "reflections of the real sun." parfaite tapped him on the arm. "so: you have the thing. well, this man is not himself--he have left himself where he seen his bad times. it makes your flesh creep sometimes when you see the sun dogs in the sky--this man did the same. you shall see him tonight." sir duke looked at the little half-breed, and wondered that the product of so crude a civilisation should be so little crude in his imagination. "what happened?" he asked. "nothing happened. but the man could not sleep. he sit before the fire, his eyes moving here and there, and sometimes he shiver. well, i watch him. in the morning we leave him there, and he has been there ever since--the only man at the fort. the indians do not go; they fear him; but there is no harm in him. he is old now. in an hour we'll be there." the sun was hanging, with one shoulder up like a great red peering dwarf, on the far side of a long hillock of stunted pines, when the three arrived at the fort. the yard was still as parfaite had described it-full of rank grass, through which one path trailed to the open door. on the stockade walls grass grew, as though where men will not live like men nature labours to smother. the shutters of the window were not open; light only entered through narrow openings in them, made for the needs of possible attacks by indians in the far past. one would have sworn that anyone dwelling there was more like the dead than the living. yet it had, too, something of the peace of the lonely graveyard. there was no one in the fort; but there were signs of life--skins piled here and there, a few utensils, a bench, a hammock for food swung from the rafters, a low fire burning in the chimney, and a rude spear stretched on the wall. "sure, the place gives you shivers!" said shon. "open go these windows. put wood on the fire, parfaite; cook the meat that we've brought, and no other, me boy; and whin we're filled wid a meal and the love o' god, bring in your lost man, or sun dog, or whativer's he by name or nature." while parfaite and shon busied themselves, lawless wandered out with his gun, and, drawn on by the clear joyous air of the evening, walked along a path made by the same feet that had travelled the yard of the fort. he followed it almost unconsciously at first, thinking of the strange histories that the far north hoards in its fastnesses, wondering what singular fate had driven the host of this secluded tavern--farthest from the pleasant south country, nearest to the pole--to stand, as it were, a sentinel at the raw outposts of the world. he looked down at the trail where he was walking with a kind of awe, which even his cheerful common sense could not dismiss. he came to the top of a ridge on which were a handful of meagre trees. leaning on his gun, he looked straight away into the farthest distance. on the left was a blurred edge of pines, with tops like ungainly tendrils feeling for the sky. on the right was a long bare stretch of hills veiled in the thin smoke of the evening, and between, straight before him, was a wide lane of unknown country, billowing away to where it froze into the vast archipelago that closes with the summit of the world. he experienced now that weird charm which has drawn so many into arctic wilds and gathered the eyes of millions longingly. wife, child, london, civilisation, were forgotten for the moment. he was under a spell which, once felt, lingers in your veins always. at length his look drew away from the glimmering distance, and he suddenly became conscious of human presence. here, almost at his feet, was a man, also looking out along that slumbering waste. he was dressed in skins, his arms were folded across his breast, his chin bent low, and he gazed up and out from deep eyes shadowed by strong brows. lawless saw the shoulders of the watcher heave and shake once or twice, and then a voice with a deep aching trouble in it spoke; but at first he could catch no words. presently, however, he heard distinctly, for the man raised his hands high above his head, and the words fell painfully: "am i my brother's keeper?" then a low harsh laugh came from him, and he was silent again. lawless did not move. at last the man turned round, and, seeing him standing motionless, his gun in his hands, he gave a hoarse cry. then he stood still. "if you have come to kill, do not wait," he said; "i am ready." at the sound of lawless's reassuring voice he recovered, and began, in stumbling words, to excuse himself. his face was as jacques parfaite had described it: trouble of some terrible kind was furrowed in it, and, though his body was stalwart, he looked as if he had lived a century. his eyes dwelt on sir duke lawless for a moment, and then, coming nearer, he said, "you are an englishman?" lawless held out his hand in greeting, yet he was not sorry when the other replied: "the hand of no man in greeting. are you alone?" when he had been told, he turned towards the fort, and silently they made their way to it. at the door he turned and said to lawless, "my name--to you--is detmold." the greeting between jacques and his sombre host was notable for its extreme brevity; with shon mcgann for its hesitation--shon's impressionable irish nature was awed by the look of the man, though he had seen some strange things in the north. darkness was on them by this time, and the host lighted bowls of fat with wicks of deer's tendons, and by the light of these and the fire they ate their supper. parfaite beguiled the evening with tales of the north, always interesting to lawless; to which shon added many a shrewd word of humour--for he had recovered quickly from his first timidity in the presence of the stranger. as time went on jacques saw that their host's eyes were frequently fixed on sir duke in a half-eager, musing way, and he got shon away to bed and left the two together. "you are a singular man. why do you live here?" said lawless. then he went straight to the heart of the thing. "what trouble have you had, of what crime are you guilty?" the man rose to his feet, shaking, and walked to and fro in the room for a time, more than once trying to speak, but failing. he beckoned to lawless, and opened the door. lawless took his hat and followed him along the trail they had travelled before supper until they came to the ridge where they had met. the man faced the north, the moon glistening coldly on his grey hair. he spoke with incredible weight and slowness: "i tell you--for you are one who understands men, and you come from a life that i once knew well. i know of your people. i was of good family--" "i know the name," said sir duke quietly, at the same time fumbling in his memory for flying bits of gossip and history which he could not instantly find. "there were two brothers of us. i was the younger. a ship was going to the arctic sea." he pointed into the north. "we were both young and ambitious. he was in the army, i the navy. we went with the expedition. at first it was all beautiful and grand, and it seemed noble to search for those others who had gone into that land and never come back. but our ship got locked in the ice, and then came great trouble. a year went by and we did not get free; then another year began. . . . four of us set out for the south. two died. my brother and i were left--" lawless exclaimed. he now remembered how general sympathy went out to a well-known county family when it was announced that two of its members were lost in the arctic regions. detmold continued: "i was the stronger. he grew weaker and weaker. it was awful to live those days: the endless snow and cold, the long nights when you could only hear the whirring of meteors, the bright sun which did not warm you, nor even when many suns, the reflections of itself, followed it--the mocking sun dogs, no more the sun than i am what my mother brought into the world. . . . we walked like dumb men, for the dreadful cold fills the heart with bitterness. i think i grew to hate him because he could not travel faster, that days were lost, and death crept on so pitilessly. sometimes i had a mad wish to kill him. may you never know suffering that begets such things! i laughed as i sat beside him, and saw him sink to sleep and die. . . . i think i could have saved him. when he was gone i--what do men do sometimes when starvation is on them, and they have a hunger of hell to live? i did that shameless thing--and he was my brother! . . . i lived, and was saved." lawless shrank away from the man, but words of horror got no farther than his throat. and he was glad afterwards that it was so; for when he looked again at this woful relic of humanity before him he felt a strange pity. "god's hand is on me to punish," said the man. "it will never be lifted. death were easy: i bear the infamy of living." lawless reached out and caught him gently by the shoulders. "poor fellow! poor detmold!" he said. for an instant the sorrowful face lighted, the square chin trembled, and the hands thrust out towards lawless, but suddenly dropped. "go," he said humbly, "and leave me here. we must not meet again. . . i have had one moment of respite. . . . go." without a word, lawless turned and made his way to the fort. in the morning the three comrades started on their journey again; but no one sped them on their way or watched them as they went. the pilot of belle amour he lived in a hut on a jutting crag of the cliff of the king. you could get to it by a hard climb up a precipitous pathway, or by a ladder of ropes which swung from his cottage door down the cliff-side to the sands. the bay that washed the sands was called belle amour. the cliff was huge, sombre; it had a terrible granite moroseness. if you travelled back from its edge until you stood within the very heart of labrador, you would add step upon step of barrenness and austerity. only at seasons did the bay share the gloom of the cliff. when out of its shadow it was, in summer, very bright and playful, sometimes boisterous, often idle, coquetting with the sands. there was a great difference between the cliff and the bay: the cliff was only as it appeared, but the bay was a shameless hypocrite. for under one shoulder it hid a range of reefs, and, at a spot where the shadows of the cliff never reached it, and the sun played with a grim kind of joy, a long needle of rock ran up at an angle under the water, waiting to pierce irresistibly the adventurous ship that, in some mad moment, should creep to its shores. the man was more like the cliff than the bay: stern, powerful, brooding. his only companions were the indians, who in summer-time came and went, getting stores of him, which he in turn got from a post of the hudson's bay company, seventy miles up the coast. at one time the company, impressed by the number of skins brought to them by the pilot, and the stores he bought of them, had thought of establishing a post at belle amour; but they saw that his dealings with them were fair and that he had small gain, and they decided to use him as an unofficial agent, and reap what profit was to be had as things stood. kenyon, the company's agent, who had the post, was keen to know why gaspard the pilot lived at belle amour. no white man sojourned near him, and he saw no one save now and then a priest who travelled silently among the indians, or some fisherman, hunter, or woodsman, who, for pleasure or from pure adventure, ran into the bay and tasted the hospitality tucked away on a ledge of the cliff of the king. to kenyon, gaspard was unresponsive, however adroit the catechism. father corraine also, who sometimes stepped across the dark threshold of gaspard's hut, would have, for the man's soul's sake, dug out the heart of his secret; but gaspard, open with food, fire, blanket, and tireless attendance, closed like the doors of a dungeon when the priest would have read him. at the name of good ste. anne he would make the sacred gesture, and would take a blessing when the priest passed from his hut to go again into the wilds; but when pressed to disclose his mind and history, he would always say: "m'sieu', i have nothing to confess." after a number of years the priest ceased to ask him, and he remained with the secret of his life, inscrutable and silent. being vigilant, one would have seen, however, that he lived in some land of memory or anticipation, beyond his life of daily toil and usual dealing. the hut seemed to have been built at a point where east and west and south the great gulf could be seen and watched. it seemed almost ludicrous that a man should call himself a pilot on a coast and at a bay where a pilot was scarce needed once a year. but he was known as gaspard the pilot, and on those rare occasions when a vessel did anchor in the bay, he performed his duties with such a certainty as to leave unguessed how many deathtraps crouched near that shore. at such times, however, gaspard seemed to look twenty years younger. a light would come into his face, a stalwart kind of pride sit on him, though beneath there lurked a strange, sardonic look in his deep eyes--such a grim furtiveness as though he should say: "if i but twist my finger we are all for the fishes." but he kept his secret and waited. he never seemed to tire of looking down the gulf, as though expecting some ship. if one appeared and passed on, he merely nodded his head, hung up his glass, returned to his work, or, sitting by the door, talked to himself in low, strange tones. if one came near, making as if it would enter the bay, a hungry joy possessed him. if a storm was on, the joy was the greater. no pilot ever ventured to a ship on such rough seas as gaspard ventured for small profit or glory. behind it all lay his secret. there came one day a man who discovered it. it was pierre, the half-breed adventurer. there was no point in all the wild northland which pierre had not touched. he loved it as he loved the game of life. he never said so of it, but he never said so of the game of life, and he played it with a deep subterranean joy. he had had his way with the musk-ox in the arctic circle; with the white bear at the foot of alaskan hills; with the seal in baffin's bay; with the puma on the slope of the pacific; and now at last he had come upon the trail of labrador. its sternness, its moodiness pleased him. he smiled at it the comprehending smile of the man who has fingered the nerves and the heart of men and things. as a traveller, wandering through a prison, looks upon its grim cells and dungeons with the eye of unembarrassed freedom, finding no direful significance in the clank of its iron, so pierre travelled down with a handful of indians through the hard fastnesses of that country, and, at last, alone, came upon the bay of belle amour. there was in him some antique touch of refinement and temperament which, in all his evil days and deeds and moments of shy nobility, could find its way into the souls of men with whom the world had had an awkward hour. he was a man of little speech, but he had that rare persuasive penetration which unlocked the doors of trouble, despair, and tragedy. men who would never have confessed to a priest confessed to him. in his every fibre was the granite of the indian nature, which looked upon punishment with stoic satisfaction. in the heart of labrador he had heard of gaspard, and had travelled to that point in the compass where he could find him. one day when the sun was fighting hard to make a pathway of light in front of gaspard's hut, pierre rounded a corner of the cliff and fronted gaspard as he sat there, his eyes idling gloomily with the sea. they said little to each other-in new lands hospitality has not need of speech. when gaspard and pierre looked each other in the eyes they knew that one word between them was as a hundred with other men. the heart knows its confessor, and the confessor knows the shadowed eye that broods upon some ghostly secret; and when these are face to face there comes a merciless concision of understanding. "from where away?" said gaspard, as he handed some tobacco to pierre. "from hudson's bay, down the red wolf plains, along the hills, across the coast country, here." "why?" gaspard eyed pierre's small kit with curiosity; then flung up a piercing, furtive look. pierre shrugged his shoulders. "adventure, adventure," he answered. "the land"--he pointed north, west, and east--"is all mine. i am the citizen of every village and every camp of the great north." the old man turned his head towards a spot up the shore of belle amour, before he turned to pierre again, with a strange look, and said: "where do you go?" pierre followed his gaze to that point in the shore, felt the undercurrent of vague meaning in his voice, guessed what was his cue, and said: "somewhere, sometime; but now only belle amour. i have had a long travel. i have found an open door. i will stay--if you please--hein? if you please?" gaspard brooded. "it is lonely," he replied. "this day it is all bright; the sun shines and the little gay waves crinkle to the shore. but, mon dieu! sometimes it is all black and ugly with storm. the waves come grinding, booming in along the gridiron rocks"--he smiled a grim smile--"break through the teeth of the reefs, and split with a roar of hell upon the cliff. and all the time, and all the time,"--his voice got low with a kind of devilish joy,--"there is a finger--jesu! you should see that finger of the devil stretch up from the bowels of the earth, waiting, waiting for something to come out of the storm. and then--and then you can hear a wild laugh come out of the land, come up from the sea, come down from the sky--all waiting, waiting for something! no, no, you would not stay here." pierre looked again to that point in the shore towards which gaspard's eyes had been cast. the sun was shining hard just then, and the stern, sharp rocks, tumbling awkwardly back into the waste behind, had an insolent harshness. day perched garishly there. yet now and then the staring light was broken by sudden and deep shadows--great fissures in the rocks and lanes between. these gave pierre a suggestion, though why, he could not say. he knew that when men live lives of patient, gloomy vigilance, they generally have something to watch and guard. why should gaspard remain here year after year? his occupation was nominally a pilot in a bay rarely touched by vessels, and then only for shelter. a pilot need not take his daily life with such brooding seriousness. in body he was like flexible metal, all cord and muscle. he gave the impression of bigness, though he was small in stature. yet, as pierre studied him, he saw something that made him guess the man had had about him one day a woman, perhaps a child; no man could carry that look unless. if a woman has looked at you from day to day, something of her, some reflection of her face, passes to yours and stays there; and if a child has held your hand long, or hung about your knees, it gives you a kind of gentle wariness as you step about your home. pierre knew that a man will cherish with a deep, eternal purpose a memory of a woman or a child, when, no matter how compelling his cue to remember where a man is concerned, he will yield it up in the end to time. certain speculations arranged themselves definitely in pierre's mind: there was a woman, maybe a child once; there was some sorrowful mystery about them; there was a point in the shore that had held the old man's eyes strangely; there was the bay with that fantastic "finger of the devil" stretching up from the bowels of the world. behind the symbol lay the thing what was it? long time he looked out upon the gulf, then his eyes drew into the bay and stayed there, seeing mechanically, as a hundred fancies went through his mind. there were reefs of which the old man had spoken. he could guess from the colour and movement of the water where they were. the finger of the devil--was it not real? a finger of rock, waiting as the old man said--for what? gaspard touched his shoulder. he rose and went with him into the gloomy cabin. they ate and drank in silence. when the meal was finished they sat smoking till night fell. then the pilot lit a fire, and drew his rough chair to the door. though it was only late summer, it was cold in the shade of the cliff. long time they sat. now and again pierre intercepted the quick, elusive glance of his silent host. once the pilot took the pipe from his mouth, and leaned his hands on his knees as if about to speak. but he did not. pierre saw that the time was ripe for speech. so he said, as though he knew something: "it is a long time since it happened?" gaspard, brooding, answered: "yes, a long time--too long." then, as if suddenly awakened to the strangeness of the question, he added, in a startled way: " what do you know? tell me quick what you know." "i know nothing except what comes to me here, pilot,"--pierre touched his forehead," but there is a thing--i am not sure what. there was a woman-perhaps a child; there is something on the shore; there is a hidden point of rock in the bay; and you are waiting for a ship--for the ship, and it does not come--isn't that so?" gaspard got to his feet, and peered into pierre's immobile face. their eyes met. "mon dieu!" said the pilot, his hand catching the smoke away from between them, "you are a droll man; you have a wonderful mind. you are cold like ice, and still there is in you a look of fire." "sit down," answered pierre quietly, "and tell me all. perhaps i could think it out little by little; but it might take too long--and what is the good?" slowly gaspard obeyed. both hands rested on his knees, and he stared abstractedly into the fire. pierre thrust forward the tobacco-bag. his hand lifted, took the tobacco, and then his eyes came keenly to pierre's. he was about to speak. . . . "fill your pipe first," said the half-breed coolly. the old man did so abstractedly. when the pipe was lighted, pierre said: "now!" "i have never told the story, never--not even to pere corraine. but i know, i have it here"--he put his hand to his forehead, as did pierre-"that you will be silent." pierre nodded. "she was fine to see. her eyes were black as beads; and when she laugh it was all music. i was so happy! we lived on the island of the aux coudres, far up there at quebec. it was a wild place. there were smugglers and others there--maybe pirates. but she was like a saint of god among all. i was lucky man. i was pilot, and took ships out to sea, and brought them in safe up the gulf. it is not all easy, for there are mad places. once or twice when a wild storm was on i could not land at cap martin, and was carried out to sea and over to france. . . . well, that was not so bad; there was plenty to eat and drink, nothing to do. but when i marry it was differen'. i was afraid of being carried away and leave my wife--the belle mamette--alone long time. you see, i was young, and she was ver' beautiful." he paused and caught his hand over his mouth as though to stop a sound: the lines of his face deepened. presently he puffed his pipe so hard that the smoke and the sparks hid him in a cloud through which he spoke. "when the child was born--holy mother! have you ever felt the hand of your own child in yours, and looked at the mother, as she lies there all pale and shining between the quilts?" he paused. pierre's eyes dropped to the floor. gaspard continued: "well, it is a great thing, and the babe was born quick one day when we were all alone. a thing like that gives you wonder. then i could not bear to go away with the ships, and at last i said: 'one month, and then the ice fills the gulf, and there will be no more ships for the winter. that will be the last for me. i will be pilot no more-no.' she was ver' happy, and a laugh ran over her little white teeth. mon dieu, i stop that laugh pretty quick--in fine way!" he seemed for an instant to forget his great trouble, and his face went to warm sunshine like a boy's; but it was as sun playing on a scarred fortress. presently the light faded out of his face and left it like iron smouldering from the bellows. "well," he said, "you see there was a ship to go almost the last of the season, and i said to my wife, 'mamette, it is the last time i shall be pilot. you must come with me and bring the child, and they will put us off at father point, and then we will come back slow to the village on the good ste. anne and live there ver' quiet.' when i say that to her she laugh back at me and say, 'beau! beau!' and she laugh in the child's eyes, and speak--nom de dieu! she speak so gentle and light--and say to the child: 'would you like go with your father a pretty journey down the gulf?' and the little child laugh back at her, and shake its soft brown hair over its head. they were both so glad to go. i went to the captain of the ship. i say to him, 'i will take my wife and my little child, and when we come to father point we will go ashore.' bien, the captain laugh big, and it was all right. that was long time ago--long time." he paused again, threw his head back with a despairing toss, his chin dropped on his breast, his hands clasped between his knees, and his pipe, laid beside him on the bench, was forgotten. pierre quietly put some wood upon the fire, opened his kit, drew out from it a little flask of rum and laid it upon the bench beside the pipe. a long time passed. at last gaspard roused himself with a long sigh, turned and picked up the pipe, but, seeing the flask of rum, lifted it, and took one long swallow before he began to fill and light his pipe. there came into his voice something of iron hardness as he continued his story. "alors, we went into the boat. as we travelled down the gulf a great storm came out of the north. we thought it would pass, but it stayed on. when we got to the last place where the pilot could land, the waves were running like hills to the shore, and no boat could live between the ship and the point. for myself, it was nothing--i am a strong man and a great swimmer. but when a man has a wife and a child, it is differen'. so the ship went on out into the ocean with us. well, we laugh a little, and think what a great brain i had when i say to my wife: 'come and bring the child for the last voyage of gaspard the pilot.' you see, there we were on board the ship, everything ver' good, plenty to eat, much to drink, to smoke, all the time. the sailors, they were ver' funny, and to see them take my child, my little babette, and play with her as she roll on the deck--merci, it was gran'! so i say to my wife: "'this will be bon voyage for all.' but a woman, she has not the mind like a man. when a man laugh in the sun and think nothing of evil, a woman laugh too, but there come a little quick sob to her lips. you ask her why, and she cannot tell. she know that something will happen. a man has great idee, a woman great sight. so my wife, she turn her face away all sad from me then, and she was right--she was right! "one day in the ocean we pass a ship--only two days out. the ship signal us. i say to my wife: 'ha, ha! now we can go back, maybe, to the good ste. anne.' well, the ships come close together, and the captain of the other ship he have something importan' with ours. he ask if there will be chance of pilot into the gulf, because it is the first time that he visit quebec. the captain swing round and call to me. i go up. i bring my wife and my little babette; and that was how we sail back to the great gulf. "when my wife step on board that ship i see her face get pale, and something strange in her eyes. i ask her why; she do not know, but she hug babette close to her breast with a kind of fear. a long, low, black ship, it could run through every sea. soon the captain come to me and say: 'you know the coast, the north coast of the gulf, from labrador to quebec?' i tell him yes. 'well,' he say, 'do you know of a bay where few ships enter safe?' i think a moment and i tell him of belle amour. then he say, ver' quick: 'that is the place; we will go to the bay of belle amour.' he was ver' kind to my face; he give my wife and child good berth, plenty to eat and drink, and once more i laugh; but my wife--there was in her face something i not understan'. it is not easy to understan' a woman. we got to the bay. i had pride: i was young. i was the best pilot in the st. lawrence, and i took in the ship between the reefs of the bay, where they run like a gridiron, and i laugh when i swing the ship all ver' quick to the right, after we pass the reefs, and make a curve round--something. the captain pull me up and ask why. but i never tell him that. i not know why i never tell him. but the good god put the thought into my head, and i keep it to this hour, and it never leave me, never--never!" he slowly rubbed his hands up and down his knees, took another sip of rum, and went on: "i brought the ship close up to the shore, and we go to anchor. all that night i see the light of a fire on the shore. so i slide down and swim to the shore. under a little arch of rocks something was going on. i could not tell, but i know from the sound that they are to bury something. then, all at once, it come to me--this is a pirate ship! i come closer and closer to the light, and then i see a dreadful thing. there was the captain and the mate, and another. they turn quick upon two other men--two sailors--and kill them. then they take the bodies and wound them round some casks in a great hole, and cover it all up. i understan'. it is the old legend that a dead body will keep gold all to itself, so that no one shall find it. mon dieu!"--his voice dropped low and shook in his throat--"i give one little cry at the sight, and then they see me. there were three. they were armed; they sprang upon me and tied me. then they fling me beside the fire, and they cover up the hole with the gold and the bodies. "when that was done they take me back to the ship, then with pistols at my head they make me pilot the ship out into the bay again. as we went they make a chart of the place. we travel along the coast for one day; and then a great storm of snow come, and the captain say to me: 'steer us into harbour.' when we are at anchor, they take me and my wife, and little child and put us ashore alone, with a storm and the bare rocks and the dreadful night, and leave us there, that we shall never tell the secret of the gold. that night my wife and my child die in the snow." here his voice became strained and slow. "after a long time i work my way to an injin camp. for months i was a child in strength, all my flesh gone. when the spring come i went and dug a deeper grave for my wife, and p'tite babette, and leave them there, where they had died. but i come to the bay of belle amour, because i knew some day the man with the devil's heart would come back for his gold, and then would arrive my time--the hour of god!" he paused. "the hour of god," he repeated slowly. "i have waited twenty years, but he has not come; yet i know that he will come. i feel it here"--he touched his forehead; "i know it here"--he tapped his heart. "once where my heart was, there is only one thing, and it is hate, and i know--i know--that he will come. and when he comes--" he raised his arm high above his head, laughed wildly, paused, let the hand drop, and then fell to staring into the fire. pierre again placed the flask of rum between his fingers. but gaspard put it down, caught his arms together across his breast, and never turned his face from the fire. midnight came, and still they sat there silent. no man had a greater gift in waiting than pierre. many a time his life had been a swivel, upon which the comedies and tragedies of others had turned. he neither loved nor feared men: sometimes he pitied them. he pitied gaspard. he knew what it is to have the heartstrings stretched out, one by one, by the hand of a gorgon, while the feet are chained to the rocking world. not till the darkest hour of the morning did the two leave their silent watch and go to bed. the sun had crept stealthily to the door of the but before they rose again. pierre laid his hand upon gaspard's shoulder as they travelled out into the morning, and said: "my friend, i understand. your secret is safe with me; you shall take me to the place where the gold is buried, but it shall wait there until the time is ripe. what is gold to me? nothing. to find gold--that is the trick of any fool. to win it or to earn it is the only game. let the bodies rot about the gold. you and i will wait. i have many friends in the northland, but there is no face in any tent door looking for me. you are alone: well, i will stay with you. who can tell--perhaps it is near at hand--the hour of god!" the huge hard hand of gaspard swallowed the small hand of pierre, and, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, he answered: "you shall be my comrade. i have told you all, as i have never told it to my god. i do not fear you about the gold--it is all cursed. you are not like other men; i will trust you. some time you also have had the throat of a man in your fingers, and watched the life spring out of his eyes, and leave them all empty. when men feel like that, what is gold--what is anything! there is food in the bay and on the hills. "we will live together, you and i. come and i will show you the place of hell." together they journeyed down the crag and along the beach to the place where the gold, the grim god of this world, was fortressed and bastioned by its victims. the days went on; the weeks and months ambled by. still the two lived together. little speech passed between them, save that speech of comrades, who use more the sign than the tongue. it seemed to pierre after a time that gaspard's wrongs were almost his own. yet with this difference: he must stand by and let the avenger be the executioner; he must be the spectator merely. sometimes he went inland and brought back moose, caribou, and the skins of other animals, thus assisting gaspard in his dealings with the great company. but again there were days when he did nothing but lie on the skins at the hut's door, or saunter in the shadows and the sunlight. not since he had come to gaspard had a ship passed the bay or sought to anchor in it. but there came a day. it was the early summer. the snow had shrunk from the ardent sun, and had swilled away to the gulf, leaving the tender grass showing. the moss on the rocks had changed from brown to green, and the vagrant birds had fluttered back from the south. the winter's furs had been carried away in the early spring to the company's post, by a detachment of coureurs de bois. there was little left to do. this morning they sat in the sun looking out upon the gulf. presently gaspard rose and went into the hut. pierre's eyes still lazily scanned the water. as he looked he saw a vessel rounding a point in the distance. suppose this was the ship of the pirate and murderer? the fancy diverted him. his eyes drew away from the indistinct craft--first to the reefs, and then to that spot where the colossal needle stretched up under the water. it was as pierre speculated. brigond, the french pirate, who had hidden his gold at such shameless cost, was, after twenty years in the galleys at toulon, come back to find his treasure. he had doubted little that he would find it. the lonely spot, the superstition concerning dead bodies, the supposed doom of gaspard, all ran in his favour. his little craft came on, manned by as vile a mob as ever mutinied or built a wrecker's fire. when the ship got within a short distance of the bay, pierre rose and called. gaspard came to the door. "there's work to do, pilot," he said. gaspard felt the thrill of his voice, and flashed a look out to the gulf. he raised his hands with a gasp. "i feel it," he said: "it is the hour of god!" he started to the rope ladder of the cliff, then wheeled suddenly and came back to pierre. "you must not come," he said. "stay here and watch; you shall see great things." his voice had a round, deep tone. he caught both pierre's hands in his and added: "it is for my wife and child; i have no fear. adieu, my friend! when you see the good pere corraine say to him--but no, it is no matter--there is one greater!" once again he caught pierre hard by the shoulder, then ran to the cliff and swung down the ladder. all at once there shot through pierre's body an impulse, and his eyes lighted with excitement. he sprang towards the cliff. "gaspard, come back!" he called; then paused, and, with an enigmatical smile, shrugged his shoulders, drew back, and waited. the vessel was hove to outside the bay, as if hesitating. brigond was considering whether it were better, with his scant chart, to attempt the bay, or to take small boats and make for the shore. he remembered the reefs, but he did not know of the needle of rock. presently he saw gaspard's boat coming. "someone who knows the bay," he said; "i see a hut on the cliff." "hello, who are you?" brigond called down as gaspard drew alongside. "a hudson's bay company's man," answered gaspard. "how many are there of you?" "myself alone." "can you pilot us in?" "i know the way." "come up." gaspard remembered brigond, and he veiled his eyes lest the hate he felt should reveal him. no one could have recognised him as the young pilot of twenty years before. then his face was cheerful and bright, and in his eye was the fire of youth. now a thick beard and furrowing lines hid all the look of the past. his voice, too, was desolate and distant. brigond clapped him on the shoulder. "how long have you lived off there?" he asked, as he jerked his finger towards the shore. "a good many years." "did anything strange ever happen there?" gaspard felt his heart contract again, as it did when brigond's hand touched his shoulder. "nothing strange is known." a vicious joy came into brigond's face. his fingers opened and shut. "safe, by the holy heaven!" he grunted. "'by the holy heaven!'" repeated gaspard, under his breath. they walked forward. almost as they did so there came a big puff of wind across the bay: one of those sudden currents that run in from the ocean and the gulf stream. gaspard saw, and smiled. in a moment the vessel's nose was towards the bay, and she sailed in, dipping a shoulder to the sudden foam. on she came past reef and bar, a pretty tumbril to the slaughter. the spray feathered up to her sails, the sun caught her on deck and beam; she was running dead for the needle of rock. brigond stood at gaspard's side. all at once gaspard made the sacred gesture and said, in a low tone, as if only to himself: "pardon, mon capitaine, mon jesu!" then he turned triumphantly, fiercely, upon brigond. the pirate was startled. "what's the matter?" he said. not gaspard, but the needle rock replied. there was a sudden shock; the vessel stood still and shivered; lurched, swung shoulder downwards, reeled and struggled. instantly she began to sink. "the boats! lower the boats!" cried brigond. "this cursed fool has run us on a rock!" the waves, running high, now swept over the deck. brigond started aft, but gaspard sprang before him. "stand back!" he called. "where you are you die!" brigond, wild with terror and rage, ran at him. gaspard caught him as he came. with vast strength he lifted him and dashed him to the deck. "die there, murderer!" he cried. brigond crouched upon the deck, looking at him with fearful eyes. "whoare you?" he asked. "i am gaspard the pilot. i have waited for you twenty years. up there, in the snow, my wife and child died. here, in this bay, you die." there was noise and racketing behind them, but they two heard nothing. the one was alone with his terror, the other with his soul. once, twice, thrice, the vessel heaved, then went suddenly still. gaspard understood. one look at his victim, then he made the sacred gesture again, and folded his arms. pierre, from the height of the cliff, looking down, saw the vessel dip at the bow, and then the waters divided and swallowed it up. "gaspard should have lived," he said. "but--who can tell! perhaps mamette was waiting for him." etext editor's bookmarks: have you ever felt the hand of your own child in yours memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy solitude fixes our hearts immovably on things when a man laugh in the sun and think nothing of evil vol. i february, 1921 no. 5 [illustration: _the beaver_ _a journal of progress_] [illustration: _little miss ouikpigak, a future eskimo belle of great whale river, whose father is a famous hunter for h.b.c. the fat of the seal is ouikpigak's only candy--more sweet to her than any all-day sucker._] [illustration: _devoted to the interests of those who serve the hudson's bay company_] h.b.c. pioneer steamer ruled west coast trade 20 years _the "beaver," of 109 tons burthen, took prominent part in history of british columbia--cared for wants of 40,000 natives._ by c. h. french there was not a single phase of british columbia history from 1835 to 1874 in which h.b.s.s. "beaver" did not play a large part. she was admired by all those old pioneers associated with the history of the west coast. the foundation of victoria city was laid by the "beaver." fort rupert and nanaimo were built under her protection, and though fort simpson was founded prior to her arrival on the coast, she was the main protection of that establishment for many years afterwards. _ship used to keep law and order_ operations of the hudson's bay company in russian america were entirely under her control and many minor difficulties in that region were effectively settled promptly on her arrival at the seat of trouble. when, too, the reign of law and order was threatened closer home, in every case the arrival of the "beaver" was awaited before effective steps could be taken to bring affairs back to a normal state. on one occasion, two murderers escaped to cowichan and the warship "thetis" sent a hundred and fifty of her men on the "beaver" and proceeded to cowichan under command of james douglas to administer the law. there were many other cases of this nature that demonstrated the "beaver's" usefulness in developing and colonizing british columbia, particularly the north coast. _the "beaver" steamed round the horn_ it was, to many, a marvel that a small boat of this kind could steam round cape horn and weather any storm that she encountered. these men forget that, though small, she was built of stoutest oak and was considered a more able and seaworthy craft than many of much larger size operating today. her keel was of unusual size and in full keeping with the british oak stem and stern post. the best greenheart and oak ribs were used, being carefully dressed and of large size. the spaces between these frames were filled in solidly to a level above the water line with curved timbers of the same material as the ribs. outside planking was oak and african teak, fastened with copper bolts and tree nails, covered with a layer of thick tar paper and then sheeted with fir fastened with spikes of bronze composition. the hull was surfaced with a sheeting of copper. _launched under royal patronage_ her length was a hundred and one feet, breadth inside paddle boxes twenty feet, outside thirty-three feet, depth eleven and one-half feet, having one hundred and nine tons burden. she carried a crew of twenty-six men and was armed with five nine-pounders. her building, and especially her launching, created a great interest, as she is reported to have plunged into the mighty thames under the patronage of royalty and in the presence of a vast throng of spectators. _h.b.c. quality shewn in building_ the construction of the "beaver" indicates that the hudson's bay company were up-to-date and were living up to their british traditions by being always first in the field in any new enterprise that required capital and far-sighted commercial methods. it must be remembered that steam vessels were not at that time proven to be successful, but were in the experimental stage. the spirit of adventure, as the term was understood in those days, was much in evidence when the company's governor and committee ordered the "beaver" in 1834 from messrs. green, wigham & green, at blackwall, london. [illustration: _the "beaver" riding at anchor near victoria_] two new masts were made and installed at port simpson in 1858 by a carpenter named rudlin, and she was sent to sitka, alaska, to be overhauled by the russians the same winter (1858). apart from this, nothing seems to have been spent on her other than what her own crew could do. she had two engines 35 nominal horsepower, each of the long since obsolete side-lever type, though much in favour during those early times following the "beaver's" construction. it was an interesting day when the keel of this wonderful little black steamer was laid, but how much more interesting must the 29th day of august, 1835, have been when the "beaver" glided down into the english channel and out on the trackless ocean on her voyage to the north pacific ocean to become famous in the annals of the west. the "beaver" arrived at robinson crusoe island, via cape horn, december 17th, 1835, and astoria (columbia river) april 4th, 1836. _h.b.c. fur headquarters on columbia river_ the hudson's bay company's fur trade up to this date had as its headquarters on the pacific coast the columbia river, but as the trade was being developed it was soon apparent that columbia river was not the most suitable location from which to administer affairs. the ships from london were taking great risks when crossing the columbia river bar, and as there were no steam tugs available, going up the columbia river with a sailing vessel for one hundred miles or more was not at all to their liking. the coastwise boats, apart from the "beaver," were all small sailing-ships and the voyage to the columbia from puget sound was really a stupendous undertaking. the hudson's bay company's possessory rights in oregon were the stumbling blocks. if the columbia river establishments were abandoned the company's claim might be jeopardized, and rather than do that a route was opened through from fort vancouver to nisqually on the puget sound via the cowlitz river, where trade goods could be transported by boat and ox-cart and shipped north on the ships engaged in the trade, thereby saving much time to the ships but wasting considerable of the time of the land forces. _the "beaver's" coast route_ from nisqually, the "beaver" took a full cargo in january, proceeding to fort simpson, calling en route at all indian villages where she would anchor, throw out her boarding nets and proceed to trade, so that by the time she reached fort simpson a large part of her cargo would have been traded. at fort simpson the furs collected were taken ashore and stored and the ship restocked with trade goods; then she proceeded, calling at all villages en route to taku. returning to fort simpson, furs were unloaded and more goods taken. this procedure was kept up all summer, the "beaver" making about four trips north, and the same number south, leaving off in time to reach victoria before christmas. the "beaver" was not subject to orders from any but sir james douglas, but she had all posts on the route she covered under her control. it was estimated that she _had to cater to the wants of forty thousand natives_. _monarch of trade for twenty years_ for twenty years she was complete monarch of the coast. in all new indian trade countries and indeed in all new white settlements, the wants of the population had gradually increased, until in 1852 the "beaver" was found to be totally inadequate for the trade. a new boat was built for the company in england and named the "otter," arriving at victoria in april, 1853. _victoria to san francisco in four days_ one of the "otter's" first duties after arriving at victoria from england was to go to san francisco. sir james douglas says, "in spite of head winds, she went down in four days and returned in five days, and she was much admired where her unexpected arrival created quite a sensation." she was the first steamer propelled by a screw to be brought out by the company, and was altogether just as successful as was the "beaver" and had the same fault--being too small. however, the "beaver" and "otter" between them were able to take care of the work for a few years, until the "enterprise" was purchased in 1862, to help out on the fraser river run during the great caribou gold excitement. _"beaver" chartered to british government_ it is easy to understand that by this time the "beaver's" engines were in need of attention, and it was under discussion as to whether they should be taken out and sent home to be re-bored, or whether the steamer should be sent herself to have repairs effected; but before a decision was reached, the boat was chartered to the british government for the purpose of survey work. meanwhile, the hudson's bay company had built in england another ship, the "labouchere." she was of the paddle-wheel type, but much larger and more costly to operate than the "beaver." the zeal of the hudson's bay company's officers to get an up-to-date boat caused them to overlook the fact that money and business were not plentiful, and a steamer to operate successfully on the coast must be carefully selected. when they realized their mistake, other work was sought, with the result that she was placed on the san francisco-victoria mail route in competition with the california steam navigation company's steamer "active," and a rate war, probably the first on the coast, was started. it ended suddenly, however, when the "labouchere" on her second trip was wrecked at point ray. +----------------------+ | little journeys to | | fur trade posts of | | the hudson's bay co. | +----------------------+ graham post _sioux lookout, ontario_ by l. j. williams [illustration: _h.b.c. store, sioux lookout, ont._] graham is one of the comparatively small number of h.b.c. "line" posts, _i.e._, fur trading establishments located close to railway transportation. graham post is on the canadian national railway at sioux lookout, a town of nearly one thousand people and a railroad and lumbering centre. the name "sioux lookout" was taken from the high rocky hill just west of the town. indian legends relate that this high hill was often used by wandering bands of sioux warriors, who, ranging far from their dakota prairies, watched with keen eyes from the top of this hill the narrow gorge from pelican to abraham's lake as they laid plans to ambush and exterminate the indians of that district. a fire ranger's observation tower now stands at the summit of the hill. sioux lookout lies close by pelican lake, one of the chain of lakes comprising the original h.b.c. freight route from the canadian pacific railway to inland posts to the northward--_lac seul_, _osnaburgh_, _fort hope_ and _cat lake_. the staff of the company's present day post at graham includes the post-manager, three clerks, a deliveryman, bookkeeper and junior office clerk. the company's business, in addition to fur trading, is derived from the population of sioux lookout and comprises the transient trade to and from the lumber camps located to the east and west of the town. the wonderful waterways and remarkable scenic beauty of the country surrounding sioux lookout rival those of minaki. vacationers and camping parties in ever increasing numbers are going to sioux lookout every summer, where nearly everybody has a motor boat or canoe to traverse the wondrous stretches of waterways with their miles and miles of beautiful bays and fine sandy beaches. ========== _the fur-ious medicine man_ by s. a. taylor, saskatchewan district the medicine man--his wife was mad, he had done much to peeve 'er ten minks he'd caught; their tails cut off, just simply for to grieve 'er. and when for _bear_-ly half a day he'd strived hard to appease her, he said, "it's why i call 'er mine just so as i can tease 'er." and if she don't improve her ways, next time i come home then, in order to hear what she says, again will i _mar_(r)_ten_. ten of my very choicest _mink_, a spell i will cast o'er them; if that don't make her stop and think, i'll with my jack knife bore them. next day whilst at the water hole his wife fell in the "wotter," he said this time i'll _fisher_ out because i think i _o't ter_. as cunning as a _fox_ his wife was bound she would get even. she thought, i cannot take his life because of children seven. next day she ran off in the bush she'd had too many drinks. they searched all night; to scare the wolves they carried flaming _links_. no doubt the _wolves_ of her made hash, for she was never found. his marriage to her he _mus_(t)_quash_ her hubby would be bound. her carcass you will never find he said; the wolves have got her so let's go home and never mind. he was an awful rotter. now, motto for this pome there's none but for it there's a reason. each verse contains some kind of _fur_ we hope to get this season. ========== esprit de corps _and why it builds successful companies_ by h. f. harman, _land commissioner_ the literal meaning of "esprit de corps" denotes the common spirit pervading the members of a body or association of persons. it implies sympathy, enthusiasm, devotion, and jealous regard for the honor of the organization as a whole. this french phrase was the unwritten but ever present motto or slogan which finally brought about the successful termination of the war for the allies. read slowly the interpretation of the phrase and you will realize its tremendous import when faithfully, persistently exercised. this is the spirit which, for the past 250 years, has animated so many loyal officials and servants of the "governor and company of adventurers of england trading into hudson bay." let this generation see to it that we do not become indifferent to this very essential and necessary characteristic. this spirit should prevail throughout the company's service in the dominion and elsewhere, and when difficulties and differences of opinion arise, as they always will in the natural course of our everyday pursuits, let us all, from the atlantic to the pacific, in towns, cities and the farthest interior, just remember to say to ourselves "esprit de corps, under all circumstances," or, as the governor put it during his recent visit to canada, "pour a little oil on the machinery when it does not run perfectly and smoothly." (it's the only lubricant available these days.) try to put yourself in the other fellow's shoes and do unto him as you would he should do unto you. if i were asked, "what institutions do you consider have been, and are yet, of the greatest service to canada?" my reply would be: "hudson's bay company and canadian pacific railway." "and what has been the chief factor which has created such an enviable position for these two companies?"--"esprit de corps." the success of any organization or corporation depends upon this; let us constantly keep this motto before us. ========== lost in the bush by ashton alston it being a bright, cold, frosty morning in the latter part of october, the indians all off to their hunting grounds and nothing much doing around the post, i thought that i would take a day off and go and put down some marten and fisher traps. i got away about 7 a.m. and after paddling about six miles i arrived at the end of the lake and took to the bush. heading in a northerly direction i trudged along, placing snares for fur at various likely looking places, and so interested was i in my work that i did not notice that the day was fast slipping by and night approaching. it must have been late in the afternoon when i startled a flock of partridges which got away before i could get a shot at them. after following the direction in which they had gone for some distance and failing to locate them, i thought, therefore, that i would hit the trail for home, but after walking for some time i realized that i was lost. in the meantime, the wind was getting up and low, angry clouds were scudding across the sky, which foretold, as a sailor would say, "a dirty night." not expecting to be so long away, i had not brought provisions with me, so was beginning to feel hungry. the sun had long since disappeared and the night was coming on, so i thought it best to look for a good camping place. i luckily came across a spot with any amount of dry and green wood, so started to make things comfortable for the night. i first of all cut down some green trees and with the branches made a shelter. then i cut enough dry wood to last the night, made a good fire and lay down in front of it. fortunately, having a good supply of tobacco and my pipe, i was able to make myself comfortable. about 8 o'clock, however, things changed for the worse. the thermometer dropped and it began to blow and snow. it snowed more or less all night, and having no blankets or overcoat with me, i was employed the best part of the night in keeping the fire burning. the long night came to an end at last. the wind dropped and the snow ceased falling. soon the sun appeared above the tree tops, looking warm and big. i was then enabled to get my bearings. i took out my watch and pointed the hour hand towards the sun. midway between the hour hand and twelve o'clock i knew was south. it does not matter what hour of the day one does this, the result is the same. by this means i was enabled to get my bearings, and knowing that i had been travelling in a more or less northeasterly direction the day previous i took a southwesterly course. after travelling for six hours through thick bush, climbing over dead falls and crossing many creeks, i struck the lake where i had left my canoe and found it a little over a mile from where i came out to the lake. ice was forming on the lake and the country was white with a blanket of snow. having no mitts, my fingers got numbed from time to time. i soon launched the canoe and made for home. at last the post came in sight, and i can assure you that i received a great welcome. it was not long before i had a moose steak put before me. this, washed down with several cups of hot coffee, soon made me forget my experience of the night. ========== the lure of the north by catherine l. nason _poets tell of the sunny climes and speak in beautiful lines of the flowers, the birds and song of summer's rapturous throng._ _they liken it to the freshness of the dew, they speak of smiling skies of blue. the awakening bud--the breath of june is ever the same old poet's tune._ _but i would speak of the dazzling snows that only our great northland knows. there is a beauty yet untold a majestic power a poet cannot unfold._ _there is a rapture in plains of virgin-white in the snow-clad mountain height, and a solemnity so deep--austere that one feels a god-like presence near._ _there is a wonder in the deep, deep silence, and the mighty wind's defiance mingled with the spirit of unconquered might and the undefined mystery of the night._ _the call of the north i cannot define, it has a lure of the great--sublime. man is a being as yet too small to explain or resist the northland's call._ ========== explorations by adventurers of the h.b.c. (_continued from december number_) arranged by j. prest sometimes more dangerous game than buffalo was encountered. on september 17, hendry writes, "two men were miserably wounded by a grizzly bear that they were hunting today. one may recover but the other never can. his arm is torn from his body, one eye gouged out and his stomach ripped open." the next day the indian died. the assiniboines were marching southwest from the pas towards the land of the blackfeet. they were now three hundred miles southwest of the french house. to hendry's surprise they came to a large river with high banks that looked exactly like the saskatchewan. it was the south branch of the saskatchewan, where it takes the great bend south of prince albert. canoes had been left far behind. what were the four hundred assiniboines to do? but the indians solved the difficulty in less than half a day. making boats of willow branches and moose parchment skin--like the bull boats of the missouri--the assiniboines rafted safely across. the march now turned west toward the eagle river and eagle hills and north saskatchewan. the eagle indians are met and persuaded to bring their furs to york fort. as winter approached, the women began dressing the skins for moccasins and clothes. a fire of punk in an earth hole smoked the skins. beating and pounding and stretching pelts, the squaws then softened the skin. for winter wear, moccasins were left with the fur inside. hendry remarks how in the fall of the year the women sat in the doors of their wigwams "knitting moose leather into snow shoes" made of seasoned wood. it was october before the indians of the far western plains were met. these were the famous blackfeet, for the first time now seen by an english trader. they approached the assiniboines mounted and armed with bows and spears. hendry gave them presents to carry to their chief. hendry notes the signs of mines along the banks of the saskatchewan. he thought the mineral iron. what he saw was probably an outcropping of coal. the jumping deer he describes as a new kind of goat. as soon as ice formed on the swamps, the hunters began trenching for beaver, which were plentiful beyond the fur traders' hopes. when, on october 11th, the marchers for the third time came on the saskatchewan, which the indians called waskesaw, hendry recognized that all the branches were forks of one and the same great river, the saskatchewan, or, as the french called it, christinaux. the indian names for the two branches were keskatchew and waskesaw. for several days the far smoke of an encampment had been visible, southwest. on october the 14th, four riders came out to conduct hendry to an encampment of three hundred and twenty-two tents of blackfeet indians, "pitched in two rows with an opening in the middle, where we were conducted to the leader's tent." this was the main tribe of which hendry had already met the outrunners. "the leader's tent was large enough to contain fifty persons. he received us seated on a buffalo skin, attended by twenty elderly men. he made signs for me to sit down on his right hand, which i did. our leaders (the assiniboines) set several great pipes going the rounds and we smoked according to their custom. not one word was spoken. smoking over, boiled buffalo flesh was served in baskets of bent wood. i was presented with ten buffalo tongues. my guide informed the leader i was sent by the grand leader who lives on the great waters to invite his young men down with their furs. they would receive in return, powder, shot, guns and cloth. he made little answer; said it was far off and his people could not paddle. we were then ordered to depart to our tents which we pitched a quarter of a mile outside their lines. again invited to the leader's tent the next morning, hendry heard some remarkable philosophy from the indian. "the chief told me his tribe never wanted food as they followed the buffalo, but he was informed the natives who frequented the settlements often starved on their journey, "which was exceedingly true," added hendry. reciprocal presents closed the interview. the present to the assiniboine chief was a couple of girl slaves, one of whom was murdered at york ten years afterwards by an indian in a fit of jealousy. later, hendry learned that the assiniboines did not want these blackfeet of the far west to come down to the bay. neither would the assiniboines hunt except for food. putting the two facts together, hendry rightly judged that the assiniboines acted as middlemen between the traders and the blackfeet. by the end of october, hendry had left the plains and was in a rolling, wooded land northwest of the north saskatchewan. here, with occasional moves as the hunting shifted, the indians wintered: his journal says, "eight hundred and ten miles west of york," moving back and forward north and south of the river. eight hundred and ten miles would bring hendry in the region between the modern edmonton and battleford. it is to hendry's credit that he remained on good terms with the assiniboines. if he had been a weakling, he would easily have become the butt of the children who infested the tents like imps, but he hunted with the hunters, trapped with the trappers, and could outmarch the best of them. when he met indians hunting for the french forts, with true trader instinct he bribed them with gifts to bring their furs down to hudson bay. almost the entire winter camp moved from bend to bend or branch to branch of the north saskatchewan, heading gradually eastward. towards spring, different tribes joined the assiniboines to go down to york. among these were "green scalps" and many women captives from those blackfeet indians hendry had met. each night the scalps hung like flags from the tent poles. the captives were given around camp as presents. one hears much twaddle of the red man's noble state before he was contaminated by the white man. hendry saw these tribes of the far west before they had met any white men but himself, and the disposal of those captives is a criterion of the red man's noble state. whenever one was not wanted--the present of a girl, for instance, resented by a warrior's jealous wife, she was summarily hacked to pieces and not a passing thought given to the matter. the killing of a dog or a beaver caused more comment. on the value of life as a thing of worth in itself, the indian had absolutely no conception, not so much conception as a domestic dog trained not to destroy life. (_to be continued_) ========== montizambert post news h. h. busch, post manager at montizambert, widely known in lake superior district, recently detailed himself as a "fatigue party" to undertake a task usually considered too weighty for one man to handle. the job was to remove the engine from mrs. busch's motor boat. once started, however, his pride would not let him quit. he sailed into the craft with a hammer, two wrenches, a file and a pair of chisels. chips began to fly; nuts and bolts and ejaculations filled the air. some hours later the clerk saw our doughty factor wrestling at the water's brim, trying to carry the big engine to the fur house. one spectator remarks, "a fog was rising from him like that from a hot spring in winter." after a long tussle he and the engine arrived at the fur house. at lunch, however, our factor was a changed man; his appetite was way below normal. and all afternoon the "sap" appeared to have all gone out of him. for once, mr. busch had tackled a job too big for him, but he saw it through.--a.d.h. ========== lectures on h.b.c. operations the canadian watchman press, publishers and booksellers, of oshawa, ontario, have recently been holding meetings of their employees where lectures, illustrated with maps and charts, are given, dealing with the operations of the hudson's bay company in the northland. ========== "are caterpillars good to eat?" asked little tommy at the dinner table. "no," said the father; "what makes you ask a question like that while we are eating?" "you had one on your lettuce, but it has gone now," replied tommy. ========== a remarkable trip by u.s.a. airmen in a free balloon _from new york to moose factory, james bay, ontario, 820 miles in 25 hours_ by j. beveridge, moose factory three u. s. a. airmen left rockaway station, long island, new york, on monday, 13th december, in a free balloon, with the intention of flying across the state of new york. after ascending, and while crossing new york city, a storm caught them, and drove them off their course. being at an altitude of 6000 feet, and above the clouds, they were unable to see the ground. the country over which they were flying was high, necessitating the discharge of ballast to prevent the balloon striking high land. having no chart, and, therefore, losing their bearings, they were unable to tell over which part of the country they were flying. on tuesday, december 14th, after being in the air about 24 hours, the men thought they heard a dog bark, and through a rift in the clouds they saw a house; they then decided to descend. the pilot opened the valve, and the balloon commenced to descend at a rapid speed. the wind had carried the balloon beyond the place where they had seen the house, and there was nothing but trees on which to land. all the remaining ballast was thrown overboard to prevent the basket crashing on the trees; thermos flasks and all the furnishings were cast over. but their descent had been too rapid to be arrested so easily, and the basket collided with the trees. too much gas had been released to allow the balloon to ascend again. the basket continued to drag through the bush till at last the balloon came to a halt tangled on the side of a tree. the time of landing was about 2 p.m. taking a southerly course by their compass, which they had managed to retain, they commenced to walk through the bush, but made little headway owing to the dense mass of foliage, spruce trees, willows and marshy land. they built a fire, cooked one of three carrier pigeons. this was the only food they had had since leaving new york. making themselves as comfortable as possible, they rested for the night but had little sleep. keeping the fire going all night was the only means of being warm. on wednesday, the 15th, they commenced their slow progress once more through the bush. the serious nature of their situation was only dawning on them at this time, and finding no house, nor any traces of dogs, they began thinking their minds had been playing them tricks. no food whatever was available, so they had to make their two remaining pigeons last indefinitely, not knowing when they would reach civilization. as their strength was waning, the oldest man of the party had discarded nearly all his clothes keeping only his flying suit and underclothes. he was nearly "all in" and kept falling down, but the older of the other two kept them all going, knowing that to keep going was their only means of salvation. to stop would have meant being frozen. moss was their only food this day. again they made a fire and rested for the night. on december 16th, thursday, they set off again, travelling in a southerly direction. a second pigeon was devoured. at last they struck a creek and they were thankful to escape from the bush, walking on the ice being much easier. they travelled all day but discerned no signs of human life. the usual nightly performance was gone through, and each thought it all was rather hopeless, but "life is sweet." friday, december 17th, they commenced their slow and wearisome journey once more, walking on the creek; but at last the creek joined the river and here they perceived sleigh tracks. noting the direction it had travelled by the imprint of the dog's feet, they followed the trail. about noon they sighted the sleigh, and the younger of the three commenced to hurry in an endeavour to overtake the sleigh. at last the man, an indian trapper, observed that someone was endeavouring to overtake him, but, instead of waiting as would be expected, the indian commenced to hurry. it appears that he was very frightened at the airman's uniform or his sudden appearance. the young officer managed at last to overtake the indian, due to the slow progress of the dogs. the indian was at last made to understand that the men were starving and lost, so he took the young airman to his house which happened to be at hand, and was, in fact, on moose island. a team was sent for the other two airmen, and all were brought to the company's post, where they were thawed out, given a good meal, and put off to bed. the airmen's footwear consisted of ordinary leather boots, but thanks to the mild spell and little snow there were no bad effects. "all's well that ends well." now they are looking forward to the two hundred miles of snowshoeing to the main line and let their wives and families know they are safe and sound. the names of the airmen are: lieutenant farrell, senior; lieutenant hinton, the one who was responsible for keeping up the courage of the party, and who was pilot on the n.c. 4 when commander read made the famous trans-atlantic flight; lieutenant kloor, the only free balloon pilot in the party, and who overtook the indian. the trip was, i believe, a record flight for a free balloon, 820 miles, as the crow flies, in 25 hours. ========== _issued every now and then in the interests of those in the service of the hudson's bay company_ [illustration: pro pelle cutem] the beaver "_a journal of progress_" copyright, 1921, by the hudson's bay company address all communications to editor, "the beaver," york and main streets, winnipeg, canada ======================================= vol. i february, 1921 no. 5 ======================================= never a "wild west" in canada canada never knew a "wild west." we are forced to turn elsewhere for "penny thriller" and "dime novel" material, based on frontier lawlessness and bloodshed. three agencies have been mainly responsible for the peaceful and prosperous peopling of the west. two of them, the r.n.w.m.p. and the hudson's bay company, have long ago received recognition for their part in this marvel of empire-building. but there is another whose achievement is but little known or lightly heralded. it is woman. wives and daughters of the bearded pioneers who conquered canada's plains trekked west _with_ them; lived in lowly sod-houses; shared all hardships; made instant home wherever the oxen were unyoked. these women helped tame a wilderness, and wherever they went was law and order. elsewhere in western america, the hotbloods, the blacksheep and fortune hunters sloughed off from a rising civilization went into the west without the good influence of womenfolks--and straight-way became "bad men," "killers" and "road-agents." because nearly every early canadian in the west had found _good women_ nearby, there was no "wild west." and the influence of canadian women is still alive--on the farms, in the factories, the stores and in the modern civic life of this oldtime buffalo kingdom of the northwest. abroad at home what has become of the old-fashioned winter? we would like to know the feelings of that self-exiled band who fled the wholesome prairies of canada last fall, as they open up their home papers on some californian strand and read of the ice famine in iceland; of the hens laying and the dandelions sprouting in canada, in december; of outdoor swimming at vancouver; of spring-like mornings in manitoba, with birds singing and school boys laying off overcoats at play. enthusiasm enthusiasm is the spark which fires the fuel of ability and personality to do its work. without enthusiasm, these qualities are dormant and ineffective--mere potentialities of power. a man may overcome error; he may lack judgment and acquire it; he may make mistakes and remedy them; but he can do none of these things without enthusiasm. to have enthusiasm is a matter of "morale"; if you believe in yourself and believe in the things you do, enthusiasm is sure to ignite your dormant power and bring out your capacities to their utmost accomplishment. conquer doubt, enthusiasm's greatest foe. be enthusiastic in the doing of even the smallest job! ideals no institution ever amounted to anything until some man or group of men back of it established an ideal and set out to attain it. the realization of any ideal, or the success of any business which is struggling toward an ideal, requires conviction. _skepticism, cynicism and pessimism never made a dollar for anyone._ h.b.c. has an ideal and that is to _serve_. too often, indeed, this is said by business firms in a trite, meaningless, parrot-fashion way; but not so with the hudson's bay company. with the company, to _serve_ means to _satisfy_. real satisfaction results only from high quality merchandise and high standards of business dealing. the honor of h.b.c. is bound up with these, because the company established them as ideals _centuries ago_. the wilderness is shrinking "fly to fort norman" is the bold headline of a startling advertisement in western newspapers, "... in absolute safety and comfort; flying time about eight hours each way," continues this epochal announcement. commercial enterprise has brought the air-boat to its aid in penetrating the fastnesses of the northland where, reports say, oil will soon be gushing. but yesterday, this thousand-mile journey from mcmurray down toward the arctic ocean was achieved only by toilsome weeks of tedious travel. what must the astonishment of leather-hued rivermen be to view these winged canoes darting from civilization to norman almost "between meals." how that great wilderness shrinks and becomes smaller. the terror and loneliness of it, the hardships of it begin already to pass away. there are men living who labored over chillkoot and spent months on the ghastly klondike trail, and they must marvel at the advantages given by science and invention to the prospectors of 1921. the key to progress to the plumber, the bathroom is the most beautiful room in the house. to him, pipes and joints and taps are more interesting than chippendales and wedgwood. is your office, your desk, your work the most attractive and interesting in the whole institution--to you? whatever your situation or task in the great h.b.c. organization, endeavor to find such beauty, charm and satisfaction in the business of your own little "work-shop" that the seduction of "greener fields" may not deceive you. the greatest symptom of individual progress is a sincere love for _the work in hand_; advancement follows naturally upon a faithful apprenticeship. the speed game hockey, king of speed games, is canada's _national sport_. the pace of it, the skill and thrill of it appeal to the youth of canada. no other boys in the world could ever play hockey quite as canadian youngsters do. hockey has developed to suit a temperament which expresses itself most completely in this game. it is the spirit of vimy ridge and festubert that crops out strongest in a fast rush down the ice with the puck. the vigor, stamina, fearlessness and self reliant manliness demanded by the game are _natural_, because the canadian came first and then hockey developed as his characteristic sport. what is _your best_? if one does _his best_ every day, it is soon noticeable that what was _his best_ at one time is not now _his best_ by any means. practice in hard work never fails to enlarge the capacity for hard work. it is a natural law that to be strong one must not only possess muscles but must use them constantly. there is an immense "shake-up" and "shake-down" going on in commerce and industry all over the world. today the time of trial for individual efficiency has arrived. the bricklayer who lays more bricks than the "average" bricklayer and the man who can raise his _level best_ a little higher every day is the man who will weather the storm. covering a wide field _the beaver_ goes to every h.b.c. employee at the retail stores from winnipeg to the coast; at all branches of the wholesale department, including the candy factory at winnipeg; at every fur trade post and outpost in all provinces and the northwest territories; at the land department, winnipeg, and its branches in edmonton and victoria; at the executive, accounting, audit and publicity offices in winnipeg; at the eastern buying offices, montreal and new york; at the london offices and fur warehouse; and to retired officers of the company, members of the canadian advisory committee, the london board, the governor and committee. _the beaver_, by special request, exchange and subscription, also reaches a large number of leading canadian and united states business concerns, prominent citizens, government officials, editors, and the principal libraries of the continent. _the beaver_ is a great "traveller." it is doing a good work. please keep these facts in mind as h.b.c. employees and associate editors and correspondents of our journal. ========== h.b.c. pioneer steamer in pacific (_continued from page 4_) [illustration: 208 main street winnipeg] _new quarters of h.b.c. executive, accounting and audit departments were occupied at 208 main street, winnipeg, january 14th. the quaint old building originally housed the general offices of the land department more than two decades ago, but most recently was used by the adanac club of winnipeg. the company has always owned both building and site but several tenants have occupied the premises during the past twenty years._ +------------------------------------------------------------------+ mutual help is the root-idea of life insurance. men join together that all may bear, without disaster, loss that would fall with crushing weight upon one alone. obtain particulars of this helpful alliance. while you are doing so, procure particulars of the best there is in life insurance. and the best policies--by the proof of actual results--are those of the great-west life assurance company dept. "d 30" head office: winnipeg _a postal will bring full information by mail. state age._ +------------------------------------------------------------------+ "a type that made h.b.c. leadership" [illustration: ernest renouf] _ernest renouf, who has been appointed manager of fort george post james bay district, appears in the photograph. mr. renouf joined the h.b.c. service as apprentice clerk in 1910, served in james bay district until november, 1916, when he enlisted for active service overseas; and since september, 1919, he has been stationed at moose factory._ ============================== "skippering a scow" on the athabasca (_continued from last issue_) by n. a. howland the only other boat besides mine that remained above the rapid was the york boat, drawn back up to the island on the cable to re-load and continue the trip to mcmurray if necessary. _we cut loose to shoot the rapids_ gathering my crew and sundry other loose boatmen lying around, we embarked on the scow for the short but swift journey, there being sixteen souls aboard. we shoved off, the steersman standing on the after-deck, alertly watching the stream. he worked the boat into the passage by means of the sweep, which is a massive oar protruding half of the scow's length over and pivoted to the stern with a steel pin. this acted as a rudder, but twice as effectively as the ordinary rudder, because of its length, with the additional advantage that being movable up, down and to either side it offers no resistance to the rocks, therefore cannot break. we travelled slowly at first, but gradually gaining impetus, the scow was soon tossing in the boiling waters, travelling with the speed of an express train. it trembled from stem to stern with the shock of the waves. there was an exhilarating sensation with an element of danger in it. _the steersman distinguished himself_ the performance of the steersman was admirable. it was difficult to believe that this lithe, active fellow who with powerful arms handled the heavy sweep with such ease, bearing down on the handle to lift the blade clear of the water, jumping from one gunwale to the other with a speed and agility truly astonishing, could be the same slow-moving figure that idly lounged on his oar all the previous way. _we made the big eddy safely_ he seemed to guide the boat as by instinct and with such unerring skill, twisting and turning her among the boulders in the roughest of the water through the narrow channel, that we had hardly time to realize what was happening before the restless figure in the stern resumed his usual listless attitude and we were riding in the big eddy. at the cry of "out oars," we were quickly rowed ashore by the remainder of the crew. _pulling the scow back by cable_ after dropping passengers, no time was lost in endeavoring to pick up the cable and pull back to the island. luck was against us. repeatedly the scow was swept away before the log attached to the end of the rope could be caught, though we knew it was being tossed around on the outer rim of the eddy. after battling the current for an hour the men put me ashore. there were still some matters requiring attention on the island, so i walked back, ferrying across again above the rapids. when i reached the landing place the crew had just managed to secure the cable and were being pulled up. after loading the rails and car wheels there was nothing to hinder our departure. my work was done. the next eighty miles to our destination was a succession of rapids, but none bad enough at this time to necessitate unloading. the journey was continued next morning, the previous evening having been spent by all hands in a futile attempt to dislodge the tug "crester." it was apparent that nothing but a further rise of water would move her off, so we left a force of men to help captain barber out of his difficulty and continued on our way. _we carried russian passengers_ cornwall had previously arranged with me to take some of the russians as passengers, his boat being too crowded for rough water work. thus it happened that thirty of these smelly gentlemen were transferred to me. they were not desirable company on account of their odour. besides, they were afraid of the rapids. the weather, which ever since our leaving athabasca landing had been perfect, now changed. the bright sky was obscured by clouds. it rained intermittently all day. the russians huddled themselves up under my tarpaulins. they presented an inexpressibly comic appearance to me, as they sat around for the most part completely covered up, dismal faces now and then peering out from unexpected places to survey the scenes. when the boat hit a few waves, the lumpy canvas would contort and wriggle all over in anguish, uncouth muffled sounds arising. louison, who rarely smiled, took particular pains to seek out the worst water. he grinned broadly whenever we struck a big wave. _the arrival at fort mcmurray_ [illustration: _h.b.c. store at fort mcmurray, alberta_] next day this eventful voyage ended. we arrived at fort mcmurray before noon. there was one particularly handsome fellow among my passengers, who attracted me by his refined appearance, but he spoke no english. the lad with many of his companions went in to bathe in the clearwater river, which joins the athabasca at this point. in front of the village it is very shallow. this man went out too far. there was a hole into which he fell and could not swim out. he was drowned before it was possible for a boat to reach him. a drag was improvised out of a two-by-four to which were attached cords fitted with fish hooks. after six hours' labor our mournful task was successfully accomplished and he was laid to rest in a new outfit of store clothes in accordance with the mohomedan faith. thus for a week was my journeying at an end. (_to be continued_) ========== forty years in service of the hudson's bay company inland (_continued from december issue_) by n. m. w. j. mckenzie buffalo were plentiful in my first years and i have seen thousands of them. many of the old freighters have told me that very often when the buffalo were travelling south that they were compelled to stop their brigades of carts and camp for one or two days until the great herds passed. of course the freighters picked out the choice ones, or as many as they required, for meat supply on the trip. i saw where buffalo in the fall had tried to cross the saskatchewan river, and had broken through the ice. the animals behind had forced the others on, trampling them to death. carcasses of dead buffalo completely bridged the river, the remainder of the herd passing over them. buffalo always followed the leader like sheep. there were millions of them in that part of the country and all disappeared in a few years. today there is a herd of about two hundred and fifty animals in the mackenzie river valley. they have not increased in numbers. the siberian wolves get among them continually and destroy many of the calves. there is another herd in the government park at wainwright, saskatchewan, which is thriving and increasing. after the buffalo had disappeared, the plains indians, who numbered many thousands at that time, were reduced to starvation. many of them died, and the canadian government of that day was compelled to gather them all into reservations throughout the country, and ration them. living in small log houses, with only one room, was a great change from their roaming, open-air life on the plains, and they became afflicted with all kinds of diseases, consumption being their greatest destroyer. the number of horses an indian owned was the gauge of his wealth. some of them had as many as three hundred head, of which quite a large number were in the buffalo-runner class. a horse in that class was never put to any other work. he had to be extra long-winded, swift and tough as steel, able to keep pace with a stampeding herd until his rider had shot down ten or fifteen animals. as a rule, these horses stood about fourteen and a half hands high and weighed nearly a thousand pounds. their sires were usually imported thoroughbreds. the most of that breed of horses have gone to the "happy hunting grounds" where the indian says the buffalo have gone. the gun used was a single barrel, muzzle-loading, flint-lock shot gun, using number twenty-eight ball instead of shot. skill in riding was necessary and quickness at re-loading. fort ellice, where i was assigned to duty, was built on the south bank of the valley of the assiniboine river. it was a beautiful location with charming scenery, about three miles from where the qu'appelle river empties into the assiniboine. the assiniboine valley was about two miles wide and that of the beaver creek about one thousand yards. the fort was built on the top level between the two, on a beautiful plain dotted with little poplar bluffs, with numerous springs of gushing water up at the top of the level in the face of the banks. the river in the centre of the valley winds its tortuous way to empty itself later on into the red river, thence to lake winnipeg, thence to hudson bay and the atlantic ocean. the fort itself was built in a large square, the big front gates being about thirty yards from the edge of the bank which was very precipitous at this point, and well wooded with small trees, ferns and saskatoon bushes. on one side of the square was a long row of one-storey log buildings, with thatched roofs all joined with one another. our carpenter shop was at one end of this row and the blacksmith's shop at the other. the doors or entrances all faced to the fort. there was the men's house, the mechanics' house, the native servants' and dog drivers' houses, also the married servants' houses, each consisting of one large room. a door opened into each from the outside and there was no other means of entrance to any of the other houses in that long row of buildings, except by its own door or down the chimney. two tiers of rough bunks round the walls represented the sleeping accommodations. a large mud chimney and open fire-place provided ventilation. we did all cooking at the open fireside. on the other side of the square, in an equally long row, built in the same style, were warehouses, ration houses, dry meat and pemmican house, flour, pork and beef house, and a well-appointed dairy, with a good cellar and lots of ice. these buildings were one and a-half storeys high and were without chimneys or fire-places. at one side of the big gate in front was the trading store and district office, and on the other side the fur store and reserve stock warehouse. each of these buildings was very long and substantial, fully one and a-half storeys high. the main building in the fort was the factor's dwelling or the "big house," as it was called. this was the quarters of the officers and clerks. it stood well back in the square, its front being in line with the end of the long rows of buildings on either side, so that every house in the fort could be seen from its windows. the "big house" was a two and a-half storey building, with a large kitchen behind, built from the same plan as the officers' dwellings in fort garry, and known as a red river frame building. it had a fine balcony and verandah. the main entrance was in the centre of the building opening into a large recreation and council hall. ============================== [illustration: _carrying supplies aboard an h.b.c. flatboat or scow on the athabasca river. the scow has remained one of the principal links in the company's chain of transportation in this district where tumbling waters make steam or motor boat operation precarious._] ============================== the factor's private office was at the right, and the parlour or sitting-room to the left. the large mess-room, dining-room, and private bedrooms were in the rear. upstairs was a large hall and reading-room, and bedrooms for the clerks. the upper floor was heated with large carron stoves, as well as the hall downstairs, and the trading shop and district office. there were four fire-places on the ground floor and another in the kitchen, as well as a large cooking range. a splendid mud oven stood outside for baking bread and cooking extra large roasts. there was also a fine well close at hand with the proverbial oaken bucket attached to a rope and chain. the "big house" and kitchen were thatched, and all the houses were mudded and white-washed with lime. they presented a good appearance from a distance. a four foot sidewalk ran all around the square, and another one from the front gate to the front door of the "big house." there was a nice vegetable, flower and kitchen garden of about an acre behind the house. the flagstaff stood at the front gate, and the belfry stood outside the factor's private office. while a high stockade enclosed the whole square, so when the big gates were locked at night there was no danger of losing any scalps before morning. (_to be continued_) [illustration: _igloos, the bungalows of eskimo-land, on the east coast of hudson bay. no, that is not a destroyer in the distance. it is a sleigh filled with eatables placed high on a stage of snow blocks out of reach of the vandal dogs_.] ============================== captain freakley married captain norman freakley, superintendent of transport for the company, with headquarters at montreal, came to winnipeg last month to claim a bride from the head office staff of the fur trade department. the captain was wedded december 30th to miss frances menagh, at st. george's church, winnipeg. miss menagh, daughter of the late mr. and mrs. thomas menagh of cork, ireland, had been engaged with the company at winnipeg for several years. ======================================== two ends to every stick by j. m. green, portage la loche. _oh, it's easy for to sit and grouch when letters don't arrive; letters you've been waitin' for and letters that you prize; and you sit and cuss the postman, and you cuss the bloomin' mail, and maybe you cuss the writer and pile it good and thick, but have you ever stopped to think of his end of the stick?_ _you can sit in cosy rooms back home, the post does all the rest. perhaps to post a letter you walk a block at best. and then you sit and wonder why the devil don't he write? to keep us all awaitin', it's a shame--it isn't right. and you growl like a grizzly. sure; you'd make an indian sick, just because you don't know anything of his end of the stick._ _suppose the nearest mail box was a hundred miles or more. and no one but yourself to pack the letters to your door; and suppose there ain't no street cars, no motors, not a road. just a team of mangy mongrels to help you pack your load; and its forty below zero, and your feet both feel like brick, i wonder what would happen were that your end of the stick?_ _and s'pose the mail man ain't arrived an' spring's set in at last, and there ain't no snow but just the ice arotten' good and fast; and you know to miss the mail man means to wait three months or so before you read a letter, and you don't want for to go, but you can't wait any longer and your heart is mighty sick, i wonder would you grumble, would you grin, or would you stick?_ +-------------------+ | lethbridge | +-------------------+ mr. james young originally hails from scotland, and comes to us from the macleod store to take charge of the dry goods department. mr. young has had wide experience, both in canada and in the old land. mr. p. k. sangster, of new westminster, b.c., has joined the lethbridge staff as advertising manager. mr. sangster was with the i. h. smith co., of new westminster for twelve years, excepting for the period when he was overseas. mr. sangster was one of the fortunate canadian exchanged prisoners from germany. he was picked up on the field in the paschendaele affair, having had four inches of bone blown out of one of his legs. mr. sangster was a prisoner in germany eight months prior to his exchange. after four and one-half years with the lethbridge store, miss annie hurst was presented with a pair of hudson's bay blankets and linen towels prior to her marriage to mr. j. wilsoncroft on january 17th in st. mary's church of england. a reception was held in the evening at the home of the bride's parents. mrs. mars, manager of the ladies' ready-to-wear department, recently had the pleasure of a visit from her sister, mrs. carney and dr. carney, of great falls, montana. +-------------------+ | nelson, b.c. | +-------------------+ the nelson "store baby" is leaving very soon. she is supposed to be going into another branch of work, but there are those who think it is another style of work altogether. a little bird claims she is a good cook and excellent housekeeper. the hudsonia social club is continuing its good work of last year. several card and dance parties have been held. a big evening open to the public will have been held by the time this goes to press. last year, a similar affair was the hit of the season. ============================== featuring bonnie babies _they are all deserving of prizes and deciding winners was difficult_ promising people indeed are the little pink-toed, plump-jowled babies of h.b.c. fathers who occupy the centre of our interest this month. they are a "full-stage" attraction in this issue of _the beaver_. find them over the page in bonnie _ensemble_; all at that happy stage of life when affectation has utterly no power over dress, expression or gesture. none of them has been specially posed for the occasion; some were snapped at most unconventional moments. there is no sign of race suicide here. yet this showing is only a partial one; we publish only those winning prizes or deserving special mention; and in the limited time allowed for photographs, there was no opportunity to hear from a great many points in the far northern districts. if we could have got them all in this group, surely this would be a "baby show" to evoke the plaudits of the greatest "baby experts." weaklings are notably absent amongst h.b.c. children, and the judges of the group of h.b.c. infants presented in this issue are firmly inclined to the opinion that h.b.c. babes of the types shown score just a little higher than babes ordinarily pictured. the limitation of the prizes to three in number proved a real hardship for the judges, as it was considered the lot of them possessed prize-winning qualities. deciding on the winners was difficult, but awards were finally made as follows: _first prize_- silver mounted comb and brush set awarded to miss bettie everitt, daughter of mr. b. a. everitt, of the h.b.c. land department, winnipeg. _second prize_- sterling silver thumb spoon, awarded to kindersley lidstone, son of mr. i. t. lidstone, buyer of crockery h.b.c. store at kamloops, british columbia. this fine baby was born on the day of the 250th anniversary celebration at kamloops and was named for governor sir robert kindersley by special arrangement. _third prize_- sterling and ivory bell rattle, awarded to kathleen flora gould, daughter of mr. gould, of h.b.c. edmonton store. [illustration: presenting a bevy of fine babies whose fathers are members of h.b.c. staffs catherine mary bartleman winnipeg age 9â½ months--wt. 22 lbs. margaret rhoda milne kamloops b.c. age 7 months--wt. 19 lbs. 1st. prize betty iris everitt winnipeg age 9 months--weight 27 lbs. margaret mitchell edmonton age 12 months--wt. 20 lbs. frank richard rogers winnipeg aged 2 months--wt. 9â¾ lbs. stanley philip oakes the pas age 13 months 3rd. prize kathleen flora gould edmonton age 3â½ months--weight 18 lbs. lilian jessie blake winnipeg age 2 months--wt. 11â¾ lbs. 2nd. prize kindersley lidstone kamloops b.c. age 8 months--wt. 22â½ lbs. margaret l. coulter winnipeg age 9â½ months--wt. 18â½ lbs. elfreda grace sewell vancouver age 7â½ months--weight 19 lbs. mary geraldine wilmot fort william age 5â½ months sydney roy upton vancouver age 9 months--wt. 20 lbs. james arthur hillman winnipeg age 11 months--wt. 23 lbs. edward ross thompson lethbridge age 7 months--weight 22 lbs. wallace beatty macdonald calgary age 12 months--weight 27 lbs. gwynne shapter calgary age 16 months--wt. 27 lbs. william e. andrews vancouver age 9 months bernard philip jones winnipeg age 18 months--wt. 25 lbs. bonnie gibson calgary age 16 months--wt. 35 lbs.] ================================================== h.b.c. helped settlers remain on land during "lean years" _liberal and constructive policy of company in disposal of its farm land estate in canada has obtained agriculturists for the west and kept them_ probably no institution or organization in canada has done more towards pioneering and paving the way for settlement than the hudson's bay company. from the very beginning, when the first white settlers began to arrive, agricultural lands were made available for settlement by the company in the red river valley, and as the demand increased, prairie lands were surveyed into regular townships, and lands accruing to the company were made available for sale at reasonable prices, and every inducement and encouragement given to agriculturists to settle thereon. there were, of course, in those days, lean years as well as years of abundant crops, but prices which could be realized for grains were usually very low, and facilities for exporting were quite inadequate. there were periods of depression and sometimes hardship, when the early settlers and purchasers of the company's lands were unable to meet their interest payments, and in some cases the farmers could not even meet their taxes. during these difficult times, when lands were not by any means of such great value as they are today, and land was a doubtful security, the hudson's bay company never wavered in its confidence in the future of the west, and in order to assist in maintaining the optimism of the settlers, the company did not unduly press for the liquidation of its purchasers' obligations, but gave every encouragement to the farmers who suffered reverses, would even advance taxes to tide them over until crop conditions improved and they were able to meet their commitments. these conditions obtained fairly often, and by reason of unbounded faith in the future of the prairie provinces by the company's officials, hundreds of settlers and agriculturists were retained for western canada, who in other circumstances would have abandoned their farms and left canada for other parts. long before dominion government surveyors were sent west to sub-divide the prairies into rectangular townships under the existing system of dominion government surveys, and previous to the surrender of rupert's land by the company to the crown, the company arranged to have laid off farming plots fronting on the red river, running east and west to a distance back of two or more miles. the first regular sale of farming land by the company under the government system of surveys is designated as sale no. 1, the land having been sold to william mckechnie, of emerson, man. the sale was negotiated on the 4th of august, 1879, covering the whole of section 8, township 1, range 3, east of the principal meridian, containing 640 acres, at the price of $6.00 per acre, the total consideration being $3,840.00, which in those days was considered very fair compensation for such land. in the present day administration of the company's land, the same sound policy prevails, and by this time the company has sold many thousands of parcels and continues to make sales, preferring always to deal with and sell to _bona-fide_ settlers. no purchaser of hudson's bay company's farming lands who has made an honest endeavour to cultivate the land and use it for legitimate farming purposes has ever had just cause for complaint in the treatment he has received at the company's hands. lean years are bound to come, and adversity as the result in some cases is bound to follow, and when it is fairly established to the company that the farmer has done his part within reason, he has not been unduly pressed for liquidation of his indebtedness. under the regular terms of hudson's bay farm land sales, the contracts mature in seven years, but it sometimes happens that, on account of adversity over which the purchaser has no control, it has taken him from twenty to twenty-five years before he has been able to fully meet his obligations and obtain title. the company has always been very patient and lenient with this class of purchaser. this method of dealing with settlers and farmers is fundamentally sound, and instead of a dissatisfied purchaser abandoning his interest and leaving the west, he ultimately becomes the possessor of his farm, is retained to canada, and is a worthy asset to the community to which he belongs. the company's persistent policy in dealing with its estate in canada is fully in keeping with its traditions in every branch of its business, and according to the company's land commissioner, "the policy of the directors, as above outlined, has been and is still one of the chief reasons why the company has thousands of satisfied land purchasers, customers and friends with whom it has had dealings during the past forty-two years. "to date the company has disposed of over three and a half million acres of farming lands in the prairie provinces of manitoba, saskatchewan and alberta, and sales continue to be effected at the rate of approximately 20,000 acres per month. practically all the lands are sold for development and farming purposes. "the company will continue its sound, proven policy always preserving, under all circumstances, its established name for fair dealing, with the primary object always of contributing, in the fullest measure possible within its powers, towards the up-building of western canada, and incidentally doing its quota towards the building, enlargement and ever increasing integrity of the british empire." ========== dinorwic post news rev. canon lofthouse, of kenora, was a guest over the week-end at the manager's house. tom chief (brother of chief william chief), one of the oldest indians trapping here, died in st. joseph hospital, kenora, on january 8th, 1921. he was one of our medalists, and a faithful hunter for the company. "the beaver" is awaited with great interest by the members of the staff at this post. it is getting better every issue. we would like to see more news of the fur trade, in this section of the magazine, as this news is of great interest to all in the fur trade department of the company; so all members of it should get busy and gather up all the news they can. the advertising of the company by its employees is another good thing, so all together for it, "_the harder the pull, the higher the flag of the h.b.c._" l. r. johnson (h.b.m.) was confined to his bed three days last month with a severe cold. game overseer w. h. martin, of kenora, paid us an official visit last month. mrs. fred nagle, of fort william, mother of mrs. l. r. johnson, was visiting her for a few days in the month of december. +------------------------------------------------------------------+ we cannot stand still by j. m. gibson general manager, calgary retail _if there is no forward movement, we must slide back, as the power of gravity ever grips where motion has ceased. the business, great or small, that comes to a stand-still with a smile of self-satisfaction is heading for the shelf of dry rot. every business must strive in its present year to beat that of the past, to beat the turnover, the service, the public good-will and the net results. the very strife after these ends develops the initiative, broadens the aspect and reproduces better men; therefore do not hesitate, never stop, but always keep climbing._ +------------------------------------------------------------------+ how shipping rates on goods affect stores' salespower _what change should be made in proposed new freight classification (no. 17)?_ by j. brown _editor's note._--_a circular letter, dated, 7th january, from one of the best organized trade associations of canada, indicates that meetings are to be held soon to consider the application of the proposed new freight classification (no. 17)._ the latterday high cost of transportation so vitally affects the salespower of the company's department stores (as well as other wholesale or retail stores in western canada) that favourable groupings of certain classes of goods under the proposed new freight classification (no. 17) are considered important in view of the company's great problem of distribution. while the new schedule is under consideration, h.b.c. traffic men will see the advantage of working to secure a spread of _two classes_ between less-than-carload and full carload ratings on drygoods. it is reported also that every effort will be made to convince carriers that certain lines of drygoods should be listed separately or in greatly restricted groups, instead of being carried, as at present, under extensive groups. it is apparent that an important saving for h.b.c. stores would result from such re-classification in view of the 35 per cent. difference between first and third class and first and second class ratings. under the proposed new freight classification (no. 17), certain drygoods shipped in carlots will take a _second class_ rate. the present classification (no. 16) on such drygoods gives no advantage in rate for carloads. why classification no. 17 (under consideration) proposes to allow a difference of only one class between l.c.l. and carloads of this commodity is not clear, inasmuch as for other lines of goods a difference of _two classes_ is allowed when shipped by the carload. drygoods certainly should be entitled to take _third class_ rate in carloads. furthermore, both the present classification (no. 16) and proposed classification (no. 17) arbitrarily "lump" a great number of lines of merchandise in a special class without giving a special carload rate on them (see page 77, item 76, no. 16; page 97, item 60, no. 17). one of the aims of the proposed new classification (no. 17) is to place a reasonable restriction on the indiscriminate mixing of merchandise which have a basic difference of origin. accordingly, to get the greatest advantage from this classification for the drygoods business, those whose interests are affected will naturally insist upon a reasonable minimum weight for carloads--say 18,000 pounds. this would probably mean eliminating, of course, drygoods "not otherwise specified" and substituting certain lines of drygoods which would be entitled to mix and be eligible for _third class_ rate in carloads. a few headings are here suggested for such specified lines: all knitted goods--wool or cotton, such as underwear (men's, women's and children's), hose and half hose (wool and cotton), sweaters, toques, heavy wool gloves. these should be allowed to mix and make up a carload. cloth--and garments made from same. velveteens, velours, cotton velvets and cotton comforters, should be allowed to mix with cotton piece goods. blankets and boots could not mix with other lines. concerted effort on the part of shippers should result in these reasonable, logical and necessary changes being made in the proposed new classification (no. 17). in the case of the company, the adoption of suggested amendments along above lines would result in marked savings on freight charges for at least three of the four larger h.b.c. stores. it may be said that the company in some instances could not make up carloads of its own merchandise. granted that this is possible, there are a large number of forwarders in every city of importance and it is not difficult to have smaller packages included at carload rates. table 1 -------------------------------------------------------------------- load (lbs.) | class | from | to | freight | saving ------------+----------+-----------+------------+-----------+------- 18,000 |1st l.c.l.| montreal | winnipeg | $520.20 | 18,000 |3rd c.l. | montreal | winnipeg | 347.40 | $172.80 | | | | | 18,000 |1st l.c.l.| montreal | calgary & | | | | | edmonton | $894.60 | 18,000 |3rd c.l. | montreal | winnipeg, | | thence by |3rd c.l. | winnipeg | calgary & | | | | | edmonton | 634.50 | $260.10 | | | | | 18,000 |1st l.c.l.| liverpool | winnipeg | $736.20 | 18,000 |3rd c.l. | liverpool | winnipeg | 482.40 | $253.80 | | | | | 18,000 |1st l.c.l.| liverpool | calgary & | | | | | edmonton | $1110.60 | 18,000 |3rd c.l. | liverpool | winnipeg, | | thence by |3rd c.l. | winnipeg | calgary & | | | | | edmonton | 769.50 | $341.10 ===================================================================== table 2 -------------------------------------------------------------------- load (lbs.) | class | from | to | freight | saving ------------+----------+-----------+------------+-----------+------- 18,000 |1st l.c.l.| liverpool | calgary & | | | | | edmonton | $1110.60 | 18,000 |3rd c.l. | liverpool | winnipeg, | | thence by |1st l.c.l.| winnipeg | calgary & | | | | | edmonton | 909.90 | $200.70 ===================================================================== table 3 -------------------------------------------------------------------- load (lbs.) | class | from | to | freight | saving ------------+----------+-----------+------------+-----------+------- 18,000 |1st l.c.l.| montreal | vancouver | $1110.60 | 18,000 |3rd c.l. | montreal | winnipeg | | thence by |1st l.c.l.| winnipeg | vancouver | 1322.10 | $211.50 ===================================================================== as at present possible on groceries, for example, we can cite an instance of freight being saved by taking carload rate to winnipeg and thence to calgary or edmonton through a forwarder. below is a statement of a shipment which moved recently: old way--1 barrel of pickles, 140 pounds, liverpool to calgary, l.c.l. rate, at $5.81 $8.13 new way--1 barrel of pickles, 140 pounds, liverpool to winnipeg, c.l. rate and winnipeg to calgary, c.l. rate, including forwarding charges at $3.04â½ $4.68 the saving of freight on this barrel of pickles alone was $3.45. table no. 1 above shows class rate comparisons and will make clear the savings possible on drygoods shipments under proposed new grouping and loading. supposing in some cases it were not possible to make up a carload of drygoods for calgary or edmonton, shipments from liverpool to winnipeg in carloads and thence to the alberta points by first class or less than carloads would still show an appreciable saving as indicated by table no. 2. due to our inability to make up carloads from winnipeg to vancouver--and the combined carload rate from montreal to winnipeg and l.c.l. rate from winnipeg to vancouver being larger than the through l.c.l. rate from montreal to vancouver--this saving in freight cost would not be felt on montreal or liverpool shipments of drygoods to vancouver. the reason for this is indicated in table no. 3. the comparatively lower through l.c.l. rate from montreal to vancouver is made to meet competition with the slower but cheaper water route via the panama canal. +---------------+ | winnipeg | +---------------+ [illustration] confirmed winnipeg bachelor meets waterloo _the happy couple "shot" soon after the event._ by our staff photographer this is the tale of a white-coated masseur who used to be perhaps something of a woman-hater, the tale of an irresistibly beautiful maiden in distress, and of the gossamer strands of a brunette coiffure which were too short--oh, far too short. it's a story you'll never forget as long as you can remember it! the co-respondent in the case, the debonair gentleman in question, mr. william saalfeld, administrator of winnipeg store's beauty parlor, though usually triumphantly successful in the treatment of the feminine's crowning glory, was baffled to the point of desperation. (ha!--the plot fattens!) try as he might, he, the designer of fabulously rare head-dresses, could not induce this charming madam's hair to stay "coiffed." finally in great disgust, disregarding his reputation for impeccable deportment, _finesse_ and _savoir faire_, mr. saalfeld abandoned this bewitching minx to her fate, her tresses uncombed, un-marcelled and undone. of course, anyone who could not detect a "rat" in this yarn, somewhere, must have no more imagination than an oyster has shins. the fascinating damsel so endearingly referred to is a wax figure, as you might have seen upon close scrutiny of the portrait. the display department in performing some little operation, such as amputating a finger, adding a new one and powdering her face, tossed her pretty locks. mr. saalfeld, whose services were requisitioned (as you have just heard), gave up in desperation. how they finally re-dressed her hair is a professional secret which mr. macgregor refuses to divulge. and the darling maintained a serene silence, only the deep blush upon her cheek betraying how her sensibilities had been offended. while we have no infallible information regarding recent seismographic disturbances in china, we would cheerfully volunteer the information that mr. kaufman sat down quite impromptu and with considerable emphasis during a curling game recently. memory: _applied to efficiency_ by r. j. hughes we are told our brain is composed of thousands of small cells and that the average person in a lifetime only develops a small number. surely we were given a brain to use and not let half or more of it lie dormant. so let us try and see how many cells we can develop; in other words, train your memory to help you more and more, every day. think out a better way of doing some particular duty you have to perform--a way that will save time or result in greater satisfaction to the customer or the company. memorize this and when the opportunity presents itself, give it a trial. this principle applies to any department you may be in, selling, delivering, packing or unpacking; it all amounts to the same in the end, we are all serving the customer in one way or another. a salesman i know greatly improved his position in the company's service, by memorizing the names of all the customers he served. his method was to note the personal appearance of the customer and any peculiarities such as carriage, gesture or attire, at the same time pronouncing the name clearly and making a mental effort to fix it in memory. after the departure of the customer, he occasionally repeated the name to himself. he associated the customer and the name with as many ideas as possible; for example, the particular part of the store where the customer was purchasing or the customer's attitude at the counter. the impression thus made was reinforced by subsequent repetition of the name. similar plans may be used to memorize many other things. the particular "salesman" referred to is now a buyer and he attributes his success in a large measure to the foregoing. of course, we can't all be buyers, but we can all be a little more efficient and in that way pave our way to greater success. futuristic fables _winnipeg store news as it will, perhaps (?) be reported in the halcyon days of, say, 1945 a.d._ mr. george ashbrook, our resident buyer in buenos ayres, south america, wirelesses his congratulations to _the beaver_ upon its attainment to its twenty-fifth year of publication. he adds that the annual revolution in peru will occur two weeks later this spring on account of the prolongation of the rainy season. the marriage is announced of frank r. rogers, the prominent young winnipeg banker, son of our print-shop and book bindery superintendent, to the belle of the season, miss helen ogston, on tuesday next. social circles are all agog over the event. short week-end air flights from surrounding suburbs to see winnipeg with its 1,000,000 population and its hudson's bay store, are becoming quite the thing. among those who alighted gracefully upon the store's roof-garden 'drome last week-end and dropped in to see us all, we noticed mr. w. j. mclaughlin, of vancouver; mr. j. prest, of edmonton; mr. f. r. reeve, of calgary, and mr. hudson, from hudson bay, the genial senior partner of the firm. mr. reeve stated that his engine had been "missing" ever since he passed over regina. a search party had been organized to locate it. "mac" declares it is still raining in vancouver, but (like the cold one does not feel) coast rain does not wet one! during bonspiel week a very great curiosity visited the store. an old gentleman with a typical scotch tam upon his head roamed through the aisles with the fires of recollection burning in his eyes. the snow of many winters was upon his brow and as he moved gingerly about leaning heavily upon his cane he was evidently an interested spectator of the great progress evidenced on every hand. his manner and garb plainly bespoke that prosperity and independence which possession of plenty of this world's goods always develops. he claimed to be mr. george bowdler, erstwhile champion curler and a member of the store's staff twenty years ago. the store jokesmith mr. conductor, please stop the orchestra just a moment, while we breathlessly inquire whether mr. _tom bone_, reported in january _beaver_ as _vers librist_ and musical instrument maker of vernon, should not spell his name _trom bone_? sounds like sax-oph-one and half-a-dozen of the other to us. (quick, friday, the mallet!) rumored, mr. aulis, in the grocery, has lately purchased a new house. we hope he made a good deal and can sell it, if he wants to, for a $1000 or so profit, without being called a profiteer! there is a gentleman down here on the prairies who admits he has bowled 228. mr. samuel beggs offers to tell who it is, if anyone is in doubt. if wishes were material things we bet: _mr. kaufman would have a waist like annette kellerman._ sh-sh-sh! strictly _entre nous_! mr. wood or anybody'll tell you that standing up for the principles one believes in is like learning to roller skate. you won't get anywhere if you sit down too often. do you know --that hudson's bay company's city delivery rigs made 218,049 deliveries, travelled 131,162 miles, and disposed of 267,625 packages during the year 1920? the figures are given by mr. g. russel, the shipping room manager. --that the hudson's bay company's shipping department despatched to out-of-town points by express, freight and mail, 59,519 packages during the year 1920? --that the dining room manageress, miss beggs, states that her staff served 28,238 meals during the month of december, 1920. ========== write like the dickens is right an oriental paper having an english section printed the following notice: "_the news of english we tell the latest. writ in perfectly style and most earliest. do a murder commit, we hear of and tell it. do a mighty chief die, we publish it and in borders somber. staff has each been colleged and write like the kipling and the dickens. we circle every town and extortionate not for advertisements._" miss constance greenfield was married on february 5th, at st. luke's church, to mr. norman horton. mrs. horton (nee "connie" greenfield) has been with us for eight years and her place will really seem vacant for a long time to come. we hope the newlyweds will enjoy a regular story-book romance. they will reside at guelph apartments. +--------------------------+ | _wholesale-depot_ | +--------------------------+ several enjoyable skating and toboggan parties have been organized by the members of the staff who have taken full advantage of the mild winter experienced at winnipeg. the dears have taken up curling tuesday night, january 18th saw the commencement of what we hope to see as a regular feature, ladies' night at the heather rink. four rinks turned out under the direction of such experienced skips as d. swan, alex. thompson, mcmicken and bill phelan. the girls had some good sport, but all couldn't win. d. swan and bill phelan took the honors. _heard next morning:_ 1st girl--"oh my arms do ache!" 2nd girl--"only your arms?" 3rd girl--"they tell me the stones weigh 40 lbs. each." 4th girl--"400 lbs., you mean, judging by my back and arms." chorus--"oh, for ma wee white bed." the ladies' rinks miss smith miss poole miss gow miss thomas miss hatfield miss davis mr. a. thompson, skip mr. d. swan, skip miss e. smeaton miss rosenberg miss kellet miss norris miss brown miss m. smeaton mr. mcmicken, skip mr. w. phelan, skip standing p. w. l. swan 3 3 0 mcmicken 3 2 1 a. thompson 3 1 2 w. phelan 3 0 3 wholesale packing room played retail delivery january 31st. the draws resulted in a decisive victory for the wholesale; score 24 to 8. retail skips wholesale skips tait swan mills mcmicken mrs. peter rennie and son and daughter arrived recently from seattle. miss rose paradis, recently one of our steno. stars, is shortly to be married, and has our best wishes. heartiest congratulations from the wholesale staff to mr. mcdonald on the birth of a son. mrs. mcdonald is doing well. miss c. norris is the latest addition to wholesale staff, taking the place of miss paradis as a steno. star. miss masie styne left us at christmas to take a well deserved rest with her parents on the farm at eriksdale. miss laura sheilds has taken over the switch board vacated by maisie. who is the traveller that sold dud eggs as new laid, and what shall be done to him? ========================================== h.b.c. curling associations, winnipeg, 1921 _land department_ -------------------------------------------------- | games | | | skip | played | won | lost | standing ---------------+---------+-----+--------+-------- harman | 6 | 4 | 2 | .666 bellingham | 6 | 4 | 2 | .666 mcdill | 6 | 2 | 4 | .333 joslyn | 6 | 2 | 4 | .333 -------------------------------------------------- _retail store_ -------------------------------------------------- scott | 6 | 6 | 0 | 1.000 bowdler | 6 | 4 | 2 | .666 pearen | 6 | 4 | 2 | .666 mills | 5 | 3 | 2 | .600 ogston | 5 | 3 | 2 | .600 parker | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 tait | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 sidey | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 macgregor | 6 | 2 | 4 | .333 healy | 6 | 2 | 4 | .333 sparling | 6 | 1 | 5 | .166 pugsley | 6 | 1 | 5 | .166 ------------------------------------------------- _wholesale--depot_ ------------------------------------------------- a. thompson | 6 | 6 | 0 | 1.000 johnson | 5 | 3 | 2 | .600 swan | 7 | 4 | 3 | .571 veysey | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 poitras | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 phelan | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 brock | 6 | 3 | 3 | .500 kinsman | 6 | 2 | 4 | .333 mcmicken | 6 | 2 | 4 | .333 o. thompson | 6 | 1 | 5 | .166 +------------------+ | calgary | +------------------+ _retail store news_ [illustration: _photograph taken august 1st, 1914, at h.b.c. athletic grounds, calgary. first men of the store to enlist at the outbreak of war, in tenth battalion._ back row--a. b. dowty. s. atwell. h. bennet. j. gough. f. h. davies. d. morris. h. bennet, has now returned to calgary. s. atwell, killed at st. julien, april 22nd, 1915. a. b. dowty, wounded and gassed at st. julien, april 24th, 1915, now back in the store. f. h. davies, wounded at craters, st. elois, june 6th, 1916, obtained commission and was killed at mount st. eloi, vimy ridge. j. gough, gassed at st. julien, april 22nd, 1915, now at victoria, b.c. d. morris, with tenth battalion till september 15th, transferred to headquarters, 3rd echelon; now at newtown n. wales.] why not a hudson's bay bonspiel week? is it possible for the stores or other departments in the company's service to hold a bonspiel, say in the last week of february, choosing some central point, calgary, for instance. curling has many fans amongst hudson's bay men and some crack rinks could be assembled. could it not be arranged under the auspices of the h.b.a.a.a. and become a yearly event? as the rinks consist of four men only, could they not be spared during the bonspiel period? it would undoubtedly arouse much interest and enthusiasm in the company and is good publicity too. _sweep hard, you curlers, and let's have some suggestions._ as a starter, calgary issues a challenge to any rink in the service.--_calgary h.b.a.a.a._ a noteworthy event baby stoddart was the first arrival in calgary in 1921. roy stoddart of the carpet department is the proud father of the fine son, who arrived at 7 a.m. new year's morning, and is the recipient of many useful gifts presented by the calgary _herald_ and city merchants. random shots miss patton, our hosiery buyer, says: "window space, like hosiery, gets most attention when properly filled." mr. herring, in men's furnishing department, says: "no wonder we can't buy a cigar for five cents--look where the price of vegetables is." mr. mckernan says: "speaking of women having more sense than men--did you ever notice that when the baby gets big enough to walk, father wants to give away the baby carriage, but mother puts it up in the garret?" george gauld expects to compete in the skating carnival, 1922. the new figures that george cuts while on the ice are somewhat sensational! "stop the press" flash.--bud fisher will wear that beautiful new tie on easter sunday. bud always goes to church "easter sunday." mrs. f. wallis, of the audit office, left the store last month after four years' service. on behalf of the staff with which she has been associated, miss i. dunlop presented her with a beautiful cut glass salad bowl. mrs. m. moodie, of the office staff, is on a three months' visit to ireland. from letters received, she seems to be having a wonderful time. mrs. mccracken (nee miss watson), buyer of the ladies' furs, is leaving after nearly seven years' service. she had a recent offer of a better position, and accepted it--_she is going to devote her energies to looking after her husband and her home_. the best wishes of the whole staff go with her. mrs. mccracken is to be succeeded by mrs. thorburn from the winnipeg store, who is assured of a hearty welcome to calgary. january dance lively affair with plenty of "jazz" music and real girls who knew all about dancing and its inventor, the calgary store staff held their monthly dance on january 19th, at hickman hall. with all the store boosters helping it along, it could not help but be a success and those who were present will tell you it was the best dance of the season. our calgary editor, frank reeve, was the only one of the store managers present. he promises to bring more of the buyers and other store managers with him if he has to burn up his own gasoline to get them there. our ever-smiling dining room manageress was in no small manner responsible for the success of the dance. calgary boys are enthusiastic curlers by lou dole the calgary stores' curling club, like everything under the direction of the athletic body of the big store, is an unbounded success. no game that one could mention is without its followers in our store and not only are they followers of the rock and broom game, the boys who have taken it up are good at it, at least they will say so and are willing to back up their assertions at any time. jack smith is moving around the store with a lot of extra pep. he is skipping the only undefeated rink at present. jack took the first game from our g.m. and the second round was also a win for him after a hard battle with bill cunningham. the following skips have broken even so far: j. m. gibson, bill cunningham, joe marsh and hutchinson. a bottle, _two calgary girls--a policeman--and the boarding house missus_ by g. brennand some mixup--not the bottle and the girls, but the girls and the boardin' house missus. miss "joe" hickey, who hails from owen sound, and miss irma oliver, from the gateway city, winnipeg, came together in mrs. boyd's invoice office. they decided to room together forever. if there is such a thing as two girls marrying--they married--and so one wednesday afternoon they set out to seek lodging quarters. the first place they called, the woman looked them over and said, "awa' wi' you! i'll have no young and beautiful girls amucking up my parlor with their boy friends." at the next place they were in luck. so the story goes, the boarding missus referred to above, welcomed them, welcomed them with the odor of scotch and cloves. they were to have the "two-room" suite in the attic, including use of the front "piazza." joe thought it was a cook stove and irma giggled in delight; she thought it was a christmas cake. so they moved in. as all "movings in" are dressed up by the imagination they were going to have such fun in this "dear" of a place--they talked of parties with coca-cola and everything! then they retired--poor joe woke irma up and said, "did she (the woman of the scotch and cloves) say this was a _feather_ mattress?" sleepily irma said, "yes." joe pushed irma out on the floor. "you sleep there then, it's my turn to sleep on the feathers." in the morning, they broke the ice in the pitcher to get water. irma said, "not for me; ice baths may be well for mrs. blair, who has time to take 'em, but not for me, i've got that old card to punch!" with a dab here and a dab there of a little powder, they were away to work. coming home at night, bubbling over with anticipation and parcels oozing out of every pocket, they arrived in the "suite" with the piazza n'everything. there on the mantel rested an empty scotch bottle! someone had removed the chair and the curtains. evidently the bottle was left as payment. poor irma, through her tears, said, "joe, this is no place for respectable folks, let's move again." the boarding house missus, who had been listening with her ear to the keyhole, tumbled in the door, for the lock was broken too, "i'll hold your trunks," and poor irma blubbed, "when you button your coat your trunk is locked. so is mine. we'll see if you will." and away they went to the policeman on the corner. he said, "go to the sergeant; i've troubles of my own." the sergeant said, "pay your rent; then move." and so they did! in the next episode of this serial, the young ladies, our heroines, are nestled peacefully in the folding bed that went with the third floor back, in the travers block. ========== mrs. clarke, buyer of the ladies' ready-to-wear, is at present in the east. she finds conditions there are a little difficult as to hotel accommodation. she has been able to pick up some very smart lines in coats, dresses and suits. mrs. clarke writes that indications in new york point to a coat and dress season. taffetas are also to be strongly represented. if any of the ladies are in doubt as to the whereabouts of joe marsh at the dances we would advise them to look into the kitchen. no, joe doesn't stay there because he is tired--he's fond of the lunch part of the dance. curling has taken such a hold in the store that the fair sex are coming out at the next game with a couple of strong rinks. the girls have been reminded to get out the old style skirt and dig up their rubbers for the game. we are not going to mention any names, but we will say that she does the typing for our associate editor, and more than that, she is a real nice girl. the same girl wants to know why they turn out the lights for a moonlight waltz if they won't allow you to get up just a little closer? a heated debate was started among the men on the sixth floor the other day, as to who is the most popular man in the store. after considerable argument, it was unanimously agreed that the porter who closes the windows at 5:20 was the lucky man. ed. note--(the store closes at 5.30). there's a big wide smile wandering around in the wholesale tobacco department in these days, and if you should run up against it you'll see behind it the happy face of mr. sadler. yes, sir, he'll tell you, it's the finest boy you ever saw, by heck, he's so much like me you can't tell us apart; furthermore, i've got money that says he's the second 1921 baby in the hudson's bay service, being born on january 10th last. we regret that miss finn and mrs. goodman of the ready-to-wear section are at present indisposed. here's hoping for their speedy recovery. +---------------------------------------+ | _montreal_ | | _h.b.c. eastern buying agency news_ | +---------------------------------------+ miss a. k. smith, of vancouver, and mr. w. g. florence, of edmonton, are again in montreal. this time, however, their visit is merely a "stop over" as they are en route for europe where they are purchasing, not only for their own branches, but also for the new victoria store, which is to open next summer. mr. florence tells us that he has been transferred to victoria and will enter upon his new duties some time in june. he will take with him the very best wishes of the e.b.a. staff. the following shoe buyers, who have been attending the convention at milwaukee, are again in montreal: mr. s. d. wilson, vancouver, retail mr. h. n. parker, calgary, retail mr. w. e. johnson, edmonton, retail mr. a. c. dunbar, winnipeg, retail [illustration] +--------------------+ | edmonton | +--------------------+ _retail store notes_ [illustration: _left to right, front row, officials and team:_ _g. roberts, team manager; p. a. stone, president a. & a.a.; a. carmichael, defence; h. perry, sub.; m. coleman, left wing; m. r. baker, centre; j. howey, right wing; s. stephens, defence; d. alton, goal; s. ferris, sub.; d. mackenzie, sub.; f. f. harker, store manager; j. d. mclean, supt._] h.b.c. edmonton hockey team sensation of season _but they have yet to reckon with h.b.c. vancouver!_ having entered a team in the senior city hockey league, it was apparent that some good opponents would be encountered, so the h.b.c. team settled down to hard practice. having beaten two mercantile league teams in exhibition games by scores which savored more of cricket than of hockey, they opened their league engagements against the university of alberta, and a few days later played the alberta government telephones. many good judges of the game were of the opinion that either of these two teams would be champions of the league, but the h.b.c. boys played the 'varsity to a draw of 6-6, and beat the 'phones 5-3. the 'varsity game was a stunner, thirty minutes extra time failing to break the deadlock. the 'phones had already won their opening league game and were confident of winning, but they were disappointed, our boys beating them on merit. following up these two games, we met and defeated the south side team, 13-5, on january 19th, and now head the league. all the players are members of the h.b.c. staff and incidentally of the amusement and athletic association, under whose auspices the team is entered. we hear vancouver store has a hockey team, and we certainly long for a wallop at them on their own ice. monthly dances becoming popular on tuesday, january 20th, the association gave another very enjoyable dance in the memorial hall. about two hundred couples participated. everyone was highly delighted with the fine floor and the splendid music rendered by boyle's orchestra. judging by the ever-increasing numbers who are attending these monthly dances, they are becoming very popular. ========== miss moore, pianist in the music department, is causing no little comment among the customers who crowd around this department to hear her splendid accompaniment in conjunction with the pathephones. the effect is exactly like an orchestra. mr. roberts, who resigned from the company's service in 1915, to enter the employ of w. e. campbell co., of lacombe, has returned to edmonton to manage the dress goods section, recently vacated by mr. florence. mr. lockie, who has been in the dress goods department since his return from overseas, has been promoted to buyer for the staple section. we extend to him our most hearty congratulations. miss macdonald, the assistant manager of the millinery department, and miss peterson, the millinery trimmer, have just returned from a business trip to calgary. mr. harkness, until recently assistant manager in the staple department, has been transferred to the men's furnishing department as assistant to mr. chassey. the grocery department has been closed out completely in order to make room for the new furniture department. the groceteria is to be continued more aggressively than ever. salesman should be active socially, but not to excess by w. g. cunningham, _asst. supt._ besides his duties to the company and to himself, the salesman has a definite place, and definite duty towards his community. social relations are helpful in gaining selling success, and a good salesman always has many friends, but like all other classes of people, he must choose his friends with care, for we are all judged by the friends we make and keep. the salesman should always be of the social type, the kind that is fond of good company, but he must never let the social duties encroach on his business sufficiently to impair his efficiency. social ambitions are dangerous to successful selling. an evening out occasionally at a social function with several nights intervening for quiet rest is a good rule. when a salesman loses the sleep he needs he will soon develop into the order-taker type. it takes live, wide-awake human effort and energy to make sales. we must have confidence by g. salter _unless_ the general manager has confidence in the merchandise manager and his buyers-_unless_ the buyers have confidence in the sales force-_unless_ the sales force have confidence in the merchandise they are selling-we cannot hope to have the confidence of our customers. the whole h.b.c. merchandising system is built on _confidence_. the merchandise we buy and sell must be of that same quality as the old hudson's bay company have sold and traded for the past two hundred and fifty years. confidence in the old company for quality of merchandise and for fair dealing with those we sell to and those we buy from must be maintained at all cost. ========== an ode to our flappers _her tiny ears are covered, with her hair of golden brown, her swan-like neck is open to the gaze of half the town; her ankles, trim and graceful, that delight the roving eye, with a filmy gauze are covered, to intrigue all passers by._ _a thing of youth and beauty, as she gaily trips along, with her laugh and with her giggle, and her little snatch of song. her head both light and empty, she holds up like a queen, the "flapper" of the moment, thus upon the street is seen._ _what dwells within the compass, of that decorated head? what thoughts and what ambitions, and what dreams within are bred; is she a painted puppet, but for laughter and for scorn, a little social butterfly that but for play was born?_ _there is ethleen mcewan, and pert little alice wright, there's vivacious bessie ogilvie and cute ruth williamson, there are scores of other heart breakers, employed at edmonton, we've got to hand it to 'em, whether it's right or wrong._ _will they be sedate and serious, as the years speed on apace? or grow more mature in wisdom, and more matronly in grace? shall youthful effervescence, disappear in lightsome gleam, and the "flapper" be a woman, yes, the woman of our dream._ --with apologies, j.p. edmonton wholesale news edmonton wholesale is busy with outfit 1921, getting food supplies ready to ship north. it is with considerable satisfaction we feel that while other houses are slowing down we are obliged to keep going at full speed. mr. john sutherland, of fort mcmurray, spent several days in edmonton last month, and mr. h. n. petty, accountant at grouard, has been transferred to mcmurray in the transport service. +-------------------+ | vancouver | +-------------------+ [illustration: _picturing a group of h.b.c. vancouver store elevator operators, with the starter and sentry._ _these young ladies have more "ups and downs in life" than others, yet withal preserve an equanimity and amiability throughout the day that has endeared them to their fellow employees and added much to the popularity of the store._] ========================================== rest room antics after all, associating with the store family day after day is not so unlike going to school, is it girls? there is no pleasanter sight than to watch the younger set enjoying the tripping of the light fantastic toe at the luncheon hour in the employees' rest room. another pleasant feature of this hour of recreation is to see with what good humour and patience the senior employees gather around the walls in order to allow the young folk scope for using their superfluous energy. always, too, one or another can be found to play the waltz or two-step for the merry-makers. this is as it should be, and the spirit of "give and take" thus inculcated will be of inestimable service in the building of character. ========== mr. h. t. lockyer, our general manager, was recently made a member of the vancouver rotary club. "he profits most who serves best." mrs. mcdermid is back in the children's section again after an illness which lasted nearly two weeks. are we, or are we not going to have a cricket club this year? have we the players? if so, will they organize and get ready for practise? any employee of the store who wishes to play this year should send in his name to mr. winslow as quickly as possible. miss a. k. smith is in england purchasing notions, laces, and other lines for the victoria store, as well as for her own departments. mr. w. r. boyle is in the east making purchases for his department. a line of dresses he bought to sell at $19.75 and $13.95 were sold off quickly. mr. s. d. wilson is in the eastern markets after having attended the shoe convention in milwaukee. mr. j. white, london buyer, was a welcome visitor in vancouver recently, on a flying trip. his first-hand information as to market conditions in the old land will be of great assistance to the buying staff here. capt. t. p. o'kelly, assistant to the fur trade commissioner, is in vancouver in connection with company transportation business. strong h.b.c. hockey aggregation at vancouver _but could vancouver get away with this stuff against edmonton h.b.c.?_ ice hockey has taken a hold on the staff to such an extent this winter that we are able to produce one of the foremost teams in the commercial league. the team is on an even basis with the speedy kerrisdale team for first place. these two teams have not met as yet, but when they do it is safe to say it will be one of the hardest contested games of the season. it is interesting to note that our hockey team has not lost a game as yet. our genial general manager witnessed the h.b.c. team double the score on the c.p.r. septette and personally congratulated each of the players on their fine showing. we hope to see him at all the games. our all-round sport champion, "jimmie" mcdonald, can make them all travel. when it comes to goal getting, "jimmie" ranks as one of the best in the league. our stonewall defence, timmins, anderson and ham, are just about the pick of the league. percy timmins, our coming star defence player, is a decided attraction to the games, especially to the fair sex, eh what? "doc" almas can still step out and show the younger ones how to get goals, as well as stop 'em all when they come. we would be glad to hear of any eastern h.b.c. teams that are prepared to make a tour. we can't guarantee gate receipts or expense accounts, but we can assure them a "whale" of a good time if they come to vancouver. in our three games this season, only six goals have been scored against us. this speaks well for our goal-tender, w. barber.--_l. a. keele._ dance at navy league hall one of the most successful dances of the vancouver season was the h.b.e.a. affair on january 20th, at the navy league hall. mr. and mrs. h. t. lockyer and mrs. leonard lockyer honored the function with their presence and a thoroughly enjoyable time was spent by all the three hundred fifty guests. dancing commenced at 9 p.m. and continued until 1 a.m. w. garden's orchestra rendered selections which were highly appreciated. dainty refreshments were served, and the whole event proved to be a further laurel in the crown of the able social committee of the h.b.c. welfare association. ========== what's in a name a stalwart swede stepped into a corner drug store. "i bane sick," said he to the clerk. "and i want some viskey." "nothing doing," answered the clerk. "don't you know the country is dry?" but he added, "you might be able to get some squirrel whiskey over there at that saloon." across the street the big swede made known his wants. "squirrel whiskey," yelled the astonished proprietor, "we don't have such a thing, but," in a whisper, "i can fix you up with a little 'old crow.'" the swede shook his head. "i no want to fly," he answered, "i yoost want to yump around avhile." vancouver welcomes h.b.c. arctic navigators _captain henry hendriksen and engineer rudolph johnson return to vancouver after six years in the north_ by mrs. jack hawkshaw [illustration: _captain hendriksen (left) and engineer johnson (right)_] whether it's because of the climate or because the hearts of those in the west are big, we know not, but the fact is recognized that no branch of the company's service gives a heartier handshake and welcome to the company's employees than does vancouver retail. when captain hendriksen and engineer johnson dropped in recently after spending six years in the frozen north, they were royally welcomed here as brothers in the h.b.c. captain hendriksen and engineer johnson operate the h.b.c. gas schooner "fort mcpherson," a boat of fifty tons which, together with the "ruby" left vancouver in 1914 to carry provisions to the company's western arctic posts together with lumber and materials for the building of a post at herschel and baillie islands. fair weather and good luck attended the expedition until it reached point barrow where ice was encountered and they were compelled to fall back to tellar point, a hundred miles north of nome, alaska, before returning south, where the cargo of the "ruby" was discharged and the "fort mcpherson" beached for the winter. in july, 1915, the "ruby" returned from the south, picked up her cargo again, and with the schooner "fort mcpherson," set sail for herschel island, arriving there in august, 1915. since august, 1915, the company has opened seven fur trade posts in the western arctic, the first being at herschel island; then followed one at baillie island, two hundred fifty miles east of herschel and since then others have been established at kittigazuit, aklavick, fort thomson, three rivers, kent's peninsula and shingle point. the "fort mcpherson" is the company's supply boat which during the summer distributes the goods sent to herschel island and to the small posts in the arctic. captain hendriksen and engineer johnson are on their way to winnipeg on vacation. during their leave of absence, the "fort mcpherson" will remain at kittigazuit. it is the captain's intention to continue this trip to the home of his aged mother who is about to celebrate her centenary in denmark, and whom he has not seen for thirty years. the journey to the coast was, as they term it, an uneventful one, being the same kind of an experience they are accustomed to and which is part of the daily round of all the company's employees in the arctic. but to us it reads like a fairy tale. imagine, if you will, two men starting on a twelve hundred mile "mush" from herschel island to fairbanks in a sleigh drawn by four large "huskies." the frozen country they traversed is broken only by the remains of a once great forest, an ice-locked lagoon, horizons bounded by irridescent glaciers whose tips pierce the sky--and over all the sparkling arctic sunshine flooding the wide plains which stretch away to the mystery of the world. in their long hike they met no human being except one roving band of indians. but they saw immense herds of cariboo, many moose, and now and then a cinnamon or grizzly bear. and all the while, the thermometer ranged from 47 to 70 degrees below zero. at night they rested under the canopy of the stars in a small tent perched impertinently in one of earth's most awful and majestic solitudes. picture to yourself the long trail, the occasional pause in the wilderness to stalk and kill a cariboo or moose for food to replenish the larder of the voyageurs and their faithful dogs. their journey lasted for forty days. arctic blizzards crossed their path. these stout hearted men, however, were able to make their way through to seaboard and embark for civilization for the first time since before the great war. h.b.c. salespeople will be on _qui vive_ during coming outfit stores generally realize that the coming six months will test the worth of salespeople more than for many months past. we haven't been selling goods; _we've been handing them out_. _people have been anxious to buy._ a change has taken place. the public is inclined to look for further price reductions. h.b.c. people know that the goods on our shelves have been bought wisely and well. every advantage of our buying organization was used in their assembling. the same goods cannot be purchased elsewhere for less money; that gives the sales-person confidence in selling. let us prove to the company that we are _salespeople_--not order takers; let's do this by being willing, courteous and eager to please. ========== acknowledging receipt of the company's anniversary brochure, mr. david russell of departure bay writes: "if i may be allowed to quote kipling (with slight alteration) to illustrate the inseparable connection between the history of the growth of the hudson's bay company and canada as a nation, i would say," _god took care to hide that country till he judged his people ready, then he chose you for his whisper, and you've found it, and it is ours._ it is sentiments like this from people who have been customers of the company for years that should spur us to honour the great name that our company has earned during its two hundred and fifty years of serving the people of canada and make us the more proud to be servants of this great institution. the situation _in canadian trade and finance_ (from reports of the union bank) the canadian official record shows that the increase of wholesale prices of all commodities reached in may, 1920, over the average prices of the year 1913, was 163 per cent, and that, as between the figures for may and december, a decline of almost fifteen per cent. was recorded. the decline was especially noticeable in the prices for grains, fresh vegetables, breadstuffs, tea, coffee and sugar; certain items in the textile group--cotton, silks and jutes, also show declines. _canada's volume of trade increases half billion_ notwithstanding the fact that an adverse balance will be shown for the first time since the outbreak of the war, the year 1920 was a record one so far as the total trade of canada is concerned. statistics for the twelve months ending october, 1920 (the latest figures available), show that the total volume of trade amounted to $2,603,423,987, an increase of $500,000,000 as compared with the previous twelve months' period. the unfortunate feature, however, is the excess of imports amounting to more than seventy-five million dollars, which compares with a favorable balance of about three hundred and fifty millions for the twelve months ending october, 1919. practically the whole of the half billion dollar increase in the total volume of trade is due to the growth of our imports for our export increase amounted to approximately only eleven million dollars. the important feature of the statistics is the record of our buying and selling with the united kingdom and the united states. compared with last year, our imports from the united kingdom have increased to the extent of nearly one hundred fifty millions. _canadian banking system demonstrates merit_ on account of the fact that practically all the business of canada is transacted through its banks, the canadian banking system enjoys a unique position compared with the systems of other countries, and accordingly the statement of the chartered banks of canada for the year ending october, 1920, reflects better than any other medium, the actual business condition of this country. [illustration: _loading the boats at an h.b.c. inland post. the start of a long journey to the great auction market in london._] _banks curtailed credit to stabilize business_ much has been said and written in criticism of the policy of the banks in curtailing credit, but there is not the least doubt that the present comparatively favorable condition of canada is due in good part to the continuous pressure that has been exercised by the banks, throughout the year, to restrict advances. notwithstanding this effort on the part of the banks, current loans are higher by three hundred million dollars than they were a year ago. if a conservative policy had not been adopted, the increase in loans would have been considerably greater; as it stands, the increase is balanced by a corresponding decrease in holdings of government securities, acquired originally in connection with the dominion and imperial governments' war financing, and now redeemed. ========== be a booster by j. h. pearin _boost, and the trade boosts with you, knock and you shame yourself. everyone gets sick of the one who kicks and wishes he'd kick himself._ _boost, when the day is cloudless, boost through the cold and rain. if you once take a tumble, don't lie there and grumble, but bob up and boost again._ _boost for your comrades' advancement, boosting makes toiling sublime, for the fellow whose found on the very top round is a booster every time._ hudson's bay company incorporated 1670 [illustration: pro pelle cutem] for service value, h.b.c. "point" blankets are unparalleled obtainable at all department stores and posts of the company throughout canada. _standard prices:_ _4 point size--72 x 90 in., $25.00 pr._ _3â½ point size--63 x 80 in., $22.50 pr._ _3 point size--61 x 74 in., $20.00 pr._ none genuine without the seal of quality. [illustration: the "little trapper" wears a warm coat made from a 4-point blanket] * * * * * transcriber's notes: punctuation errors repaired. pages seven and eight in the article titled "explorations by adventurers of the h.b.c." has two paragraphs with opening quoation marks without closing them. as no obvious conclusion could be reached, this was retained as printed. pages 4 and 12, the article titled "h.b.c. pioneer steamer ruled west coast trade 20 years" had a final paragraph that was split across these two pages. it was brought from page 12 to page 4. page 13, "to" changed to "the" (reached the landing place) this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] northern lights by gilbert parker volume 1. contents volume 1. a lodge in the wilderness once at red man's river the stroke of the hour buckmaster's boy volume 2. to-morrow qu'appelle the stake and the plumb-line volume 3. when the swallows homeward fly george's wife marcile volume 4. a man, a famine, and a heathen boy the healing springs and the pioneers the little widow of jansen watching the rise of orion volume 5. the error of the day the whisperer as deep as the sea introduction this book, northern lights, belongs to an epoch which is a generation later than that in which pierre and his people moved. the conditions under which pierre and shon mcgann lived practically ended with the advent of the railway. from that time forwards, with the rise of towns and cities accompanied by an amazing growth of emigration, the whole life lost much of that character of isolation and pathetic loneliness which marked the days of pierre. when, in 1905, i visited the far west again after many years, and saw the strange new life with its modern episode, energy, and push, and realised that even the characteristics which marked the period just before the advent, and just after the advent, of the railway were disappearing, i determined to write a series of stories which would catch the fleeting characteristics and hold something of the old life, so adventurous, vigorous, and individual, before it passed entirely and was forgotten. therefore, from 1905 to 1909, i kept drawing upon all those experiences of others, from the true tales that had been told me, upon the reminiscences of hudson's bay trappers and hunters, for those incidents natural to the west which imagination could make true. something of the old atmosphere had gone, and there was a stir and a murmur in all the west which broke that grim yet fascinating loneliness of the time of pierre. thus it is that northern lights is written in a wholly different style from that of pierre and his people, though here and there, as for instance in a lodge in the wilderness, once at red man's river, the stroke of the hour, qu'appelle, and marcile, the old note sounds, and something of the poignant mystery, solitude, and big primitive incident of the earlier stories appears. i believe i did well--at any rate for myself and my purposes--in writing this book, and thus making the human narrative of the far west and north continuous from the time of the sixties onwards. so have i assured myself of the rightness of my intention, that i shall publish a novel presently which will carry on this human narrative of the west into still another stage-that of the present, when railways are intersecting each other, when mills and factories are being added to the great grain elevators in the west, and when hundreds and thousands of people every year are moving across the plains where, within my own living time, the buffalo ranged in their millions, and the red men, uncontrolled, set up their tepees. note the tales in this book belong to two different epochs in the life of the far west. the first five are reminiscent of "border days and deeds"-of days before the great railway was built which changed a waste into a fertile field of civilisation. the remaining stories cover the period passed since the royal north-west mounted police and the pullman car first startled the early pioneer, and sent him into the land of the farther north, or drew him into the quiet circle of civic routine and humdrum occupation. g. p. volume 1. a lodge in the wilderness once at red man's river the stroke of the hour buckmaster's boy a lodge in the wilderness "hai--yai, so bright a day, so clear!" said mitiahwe as she entered the big lodge and laid upon a wide, low couch, covered with soft skins, the fur of a grizzly which had fallen to her man's rifle. "hai-yai, i wish it would last for ever--so sweet!" she added, smoothing the fur lingeringly, and showing her teeth in a smile. "there will come a great storm, mitiahwe. see, the birds go south so soon," responded a deep voice from a corner by the doorway. the young indian wife turned quickly, and, in a defiant fantastic mood --or was it the inward cry against an impending fate, the tragic future of those who will not see, because to see is to suffer?--she made some quaint, odd motions of the body which belonged to a mysterious dance of her tribe, and, with flashing eyes, challenged the comely old woman seated on a pile of deer-skins. "it is morning, and the day will last for ever," she said nonchalantly, but her eyes suddenly took on a faraway look, half apprehensive, half wondering. the birds were indeed going south very soon, yet had there ever been so exquisite an autumn as this, had her man ever had so wonderful a trade--her man with the brown hair, blue eyes, and fair, strong face? "the birds go south, but the hunters and buffalo still go north," mitiahwe urged searchingly, looking hard at her mother--oanita, the swift wing. "my dream said that the winter will be dark and lonely, that the ice will be thick, the snow deep, and that many hearts will be sick because of the black days and the hunger that sickens the heart," answered swift wing. mitiahwe looked into swift wing's dark eyes, and an anger came upon her. "the hearts of cowards will freeze," she rejoined, "and to those that will not see the sun the world will be dark," she added. then suddenly she remembered to whom she was speaking, and a flood of feeling ran through her; for swift wing had cherished her like a fledgeling in the nest till her young white man came from "down east." her heart had leapt up at sight of him, and she had turned to him from all the young men of her tribe, waiting in a kind of mist till he, at last, had spoken to her mother, and then one evening, her shawl over her head, she had come along to his lodge. a thousand times as the four years passed by she had thought how good it was that she had become his wife--the young white man's wife, rather than the wife of breaking rock, son of white buffalo, the chief, who had four hundred horses, and a face that would have made winter and sour days for her. now and then breaking rock came and stood before the lodge, a distance off, and stayed there hour after hour, and once or twice he came when her man was with her; but nothing could be done, for earth and air and space were common to them all, and there was no offence in breaking rock gazing at the lodge where mitiahwe lived. yet it seemed as though breaking rock was waiting--waiting and hoping. that was the impression made upon all who saw him, and even old white buffalo, the chief, shook his head gloomily when he saw breaking rock, his son, staring at the big lodge which was so full of happiness, and so full also of many luxuries never before seen at a trading post on the koonce river. the father of mitiahwe had been chief, but because his three sons had been killed in battle the chieftainship had come to white buffalo, who was of the same blood and family. there were those who said that mitiahwe should have been chieftainess; but neither she nor her mother would ever listen to this, and so white buffalo, and the tribe loved mitiahwe because of her modesty and goodness. she was even more to white buffalo than breaking rock, and he had been glad that dingan the white man--long hand he was called--had taken mitiahwe for his woman. yet behind this gladness of white buffalo, and that of swift wing, and behind the silent watchfulness of breaking rock, there was a thought which must ever come when a white man mates with an indian maid, without priest or preacher, or writing, or book, or bond. yet four years had gone; and all the tribe, and all who came and went, half-breeds, traders, and other tribes, remarked how happy was the white man with his indian wife. they never saw anything but light in the eyes of mitiahwe, nor did the old women of the tribe who scanned her face as she came and went, and watched and waited too for what never came--not even after four years. mitiahwe had been so happy that she had not really missed what never came; though the desire to have something in her arms which was part of them both had flushed up in her veins at times, and made her restless till her man had come home again. then she had forgotten the unseen for the seen, and was happy that they two were alone together--that was the joy of it all, so much alone together; for swift wing did not live with them, and, like breaking rock, she watched her daughter's life, standing afar off, since it was the unwritten law of the tribe that the wife's mother must not cross the path or enter the home of her daughter's husband. but at last dingan had broken through this custom, and insisted that swift wing should be with her daughter when he was away from home, as now on this wonderful autumn morning, when mitiahwe had been singing to the sun, to which she prayed for her man and for everlasting days with him. she had spoken angrily but now, because her soul sharply resented the challenge to her happiness which her mother had been making. it was her own eyes that refused to see the cloud, which the sage and bereaved woman had seen and conveyed in images and figures of speech natural to the indian mind. "hai-yai," she said now, with a strange touching sigh breathing in the words, "you are right, my mother, and a dream is a dream; also, if it be dreamt three times, then is it to be followed, and it is true. you have lived long, and your dreams are of the sun and the spirit." she shook a little as she laid her hand on a buckskin coat of her man hanging by the lodge-door; then she steadied herself again, and gazed earnestly into her mother's eyes. "have all your dreams come true, my mother?" she asked with a hungering heart. "there was the dream that came out of the dark five times, when your father went against the crees, and was wounded, and crawled away into the hills, and all our warriors fled--they were but a handful, and the crees like a young forest in number! i went with my dream, and found him after many days, and it was after that you were born, my youngest and my last. there was also"--her eyes almost closed, and the needle and thread she held lay still in her lap--"when two of your brothers were killed in the drive of the buffalo. did i not see it all in my dream, and follow after them to take them to my heart? and when your sister was carried off, was it not my dream which saw the trail, so that we brought her back again to die in peace, her eyes seeing the lodge whither she was going, open to her, and the sun, the father, giving her light and promise--for she had wounded herself to die that the thief who stole her should leave her to herself. behold, my daughter, these dreams have i had, and others; and i have lived long and have seen the bright day break into storm, and the herds flee into the far hills where none could follow, and hunger come, and--" "hai-yo, see, the birds flying south," said the girl with a gesture towards the cloudless sky. "never since i lived have they gone south so soon." again she shuddered slightly, then she spoke slowly: "i also have dreamed, and i will follow my dream. i dreamed"--she knelt down beside her mother, and rested her hands in her mother's lap--"i dreamed that there was a wall of hills dark and heavy and far away, and that whenever my eyes looked at them they burned with tears; and yet i looked and looked, till my heart was like lead in my breast; and i turned from them to the rivers and the plains that i loved. but a voice kept calling to me, 'come, come! beyond the hills is a happy land. the trail is hard, and your feet will bleed, but beyond is the happy land.' and i would not go for the voice that spoke, and at last there came an old man in my dream and spoke to me kindly, and said, 'come with me, and i will show thee the way over the hills to the lodge where thou shalt find what thou hast lost.' and i said to him, 'i have lost nothing;' and i would not go. twice i dreamed this dream, and twice the old man came, and three times i dreamed it; and then i spoke angrily to him, as but now i did to thee; and behold he changed before my eyes, and i saw that he was now become--"she stopped short, and buried her face in her hands for a moment, then recovered herself--"breaking rock it was, i saw before me, and i cried out and fled. then i waked with a cry, but my man was beside me, and his arm was round my neck; and this dream, is it not a foolish dream, my mother?" the old woman sat silent, clasping the hands of her daughter firmly, and looking out of the wide doorway towards the trees that fringed the river; and presently, as she looked, her face changed and grew pinched all at once, and mitiahwe, looking at her, turned a startled face towards the river also. "breaking rock!" she said in alarm, and got to her feet quickly. breaking rock stood for a moment looking towards the lodge, then came slowly forward to them. never in all the four years had he approached this lodge of mitiahwe, who, the daughter of a chief, should have married himself, the son of a chief! slowly but with long slouching stride breaking rock came nearer. the two women watched him without speaking. instinctively they knew that he brought news, that something had happened; yet mitiahwe felt at her belt for what no indian girl would be without; and this one was a gift from her man, on the anniversary of the day she first came to his lodge. breaking rock was at the door now, his beady eyes fixed on mitiahwe's, his figure jerked to its full height, which made him, even then, two inches less than long hand. he spoke in a loud voice: "the last boat this year goes down the river tomorrow. long hand, your man, is going to his people. he will not come back. he has had enough of the blackfoot woman. you will see him no more." he waved a hand to the sky. "the birds are going south. a hard winter is coming quick. you will be alone. breaking rock is rich. he has five hundred horses. your man is going to his own people. let him go. he is no man. it is four years, and still there are but two in your lodge. how!" he swung on his heel with a chuckle in his throat, for he thought he had said a good thing, and that in truth he was worth twenty white men. his quick ear caught a movement behind him, however, and he saw the girl spring from the lodge door, something flashing from her belt. but now the mother's arms were round her, with cries of protest, and breaking rock, with another laugh, slipped away swiftly toward the river. "that is good," he muttered. "she will kill him perhaps, when she goes to him. she will go, but he will not stay. i have heard." as he disappeared among the trees mitiahwe disengaged herself from her mother's arms, went slowly back into the lodge, and sat down on the great couch where, for so many moons, she had lain with her man beside her. her mother watched her closely, though she moved about doing little things. she was trying to think what she would have done if such a thing had happened to her, if her man had been going to leave her. she assumed that dingan would leave mitiahwe, for he would hear the voices of his people calling far away, even as the red man who went east into the great cities heard the prairies and the mountains and the rivers and his own people calling, and came back, and put off the clothes of civilisation, and donned his buckskins again, and sat in the medicine man's tent, and heard the spirits speak to him through the mist and smoke of the sacred fire. when swift wing first gave her daughter to the white man she foresaw the danger now at hand, but this was the tribute of the lower race to the higher, and--who could tell! white men had left their indian wives, but had come back again, and for ever renounced the life of their own nations, and become great chiefs, teaching useful things to their adopted people, bringing up their children as tribesmen--bringing up their children! there it was, the thing which called them back, the bright-eyed children with the colour of the brown prairie in their faces, and their brains so sharp and strong. but here was no child to call dingan back, only the eloquent, brave, sweet face of mitiahwe. . . . if he went! would he go? was he going? and now that mitiahwe had been told that he would go, what would she do? in her belt was--but, no, that would be worse than all, and she would lose mitiahwe, her last child, as she had lost so many others. what would she herself do if she were in mitiahwe's place? ah, she would make him stay somehow--by truth or by falsehood; by the whispered story in the long night, by her head upon his knee before the lodge-fire, and her eyes fixed on his, luring him, as the dream lures the dreamer into the far trail, to find the sun's huntingground where the plains are filled with the deer and the buffalo and the wild horse; by the smell of the cooking-pot and the favourite spiced drink in the morning; by the child that ran to him with his bow and arrows and the cry of the hunter--but there was no child; she had forgotten. she was always recalling her own happy early life with her man, and the clean-faced papooses that crowded round his knee--one wife and many children, and the old harvester of the years reaping them so fast, till the children stood up as tall as their father and chief. that was long ago, and she had had her share--twenty-five years of happiness; but mitiahwe had had only four. she looked at mitiahwe, standing still for a moment like one rapt, then suddenly she gave a little cry. something had come into her mind, some solution of the problem, and she ran and stooped over the girl and put both hands on her head. "mitiahwe, heart's blood of mine," she said, "the birds go south, but they return. what matter if they go so soon, if they return soon. if the sun wills that the winter be dark, and he sends the coldmaker to close the rivers and drive the wild ones far from the arrow and the gun, yet he may be sorry, and send a second summer--has it not been so, and coldmaker has hurried away--away! the birds go south, but they will return, mitiahwe." "i heard a cry in the night while my man slept," mitiahwe answered, looking straight before her, "and it was like the cry of a bird-calling, calling, calling." "but he did not hear--he was asleep beside mitiahwe. if he did not wake, surely it was good luck. thy breath upon his face kept him sleeping. surely it was good luck to mitiahwe that he did not hear." she was smiling a little now, for she had thought of a thing which would, perhaps, keep the man here in this lodge in the wilderness; but the time to speak of it was not yet. she must wait and see. suddenly mitiahwe got to her feet with a spring, and a light in her eyes. "hai-yai!" she said with plaintive smiling, ran to a corner of the lodge, and from a leather bag drew forth a horse-shoe and looked at it, murmuring to herself. the old woman gazed at her wonderingly. "what is it, mitiahwe?" she asked. "it is good-luck. so my man has said. it is the way of his people. it is put over the door, and if a dream come it is a good dream; and if a bad thing come, it will not enter; and if the heart prays for a thing hid from all the world, then it brings good-luck. hai-yai! i will put it over the door, and then--"all at once her hand dropped to her side, as though some terrible thought had come to her, and, sinking to the floor, she rocked her body backward and forward for a time, sobbing. but presently she got to her feet again, and, going to the door of the lodge, fastened the horseshoe above it with a great needle and a string of buckskin. "oh great sun," she prayed, "have pity on me and save me! i cannot live alone. i am only a blackfoot wife; i am not blood of his blood. give, o great one, blood of his blood, bone of his bone, soul of his soul, that he will say, this is mine, body of my body, and he will hear the cry and will stay. o great sun, pity me!" the old woman's heart beat faster as she listened. the same thought was in the mind of both. if there were but a child, bone of his bone, then perhaps he would not go; or, if he went, then surely he would return, when he heard his papoose calling in the lodge in the wilderness. as mitiahwe turned to her, a strange burning light in her eyes, swift wing said: "it is good. the white man's medicine for a white man's wife. but if there were the red man's medicine too--" "what is the red man's medicine?" asked the young wife, as she smoothed her hair, put a string of bright beads around her neck, and wound a red sash round her waist. the old woman shook her head, a curious half-mystic light in her eyes, her body drawn up to its full height, as though waiting for something. "it is an old medicine. it is of winters ago as many as the hairs of the head. i have forgotten almost, but it was a great medicine when there were no white men in the land. and so it was that to every woman's breast there hung a papoose, and every woman had her man, and the red men were like leaves in the forest--but it was a winter of winters ago, and the medicine men have forgotten; and thou hast no child! when long hand comes, what will mitiahwe say to him?" mitiahwe's eyes were determined, her face was set, she flushed deeply, then the colour fled. "what my mother would say, i will say. shall the white man's medicine fail? if i wish it, then it will be so: and i will say so." "but if the white man's medicine fail?"--swift wing made a gesture toward the door where the horse-shoe hung. "it is medicine for a white man, will it be medicine for an indian?" "am i not a white man's wife?" "but if there were the sun medicine also, the medicine of the days long ago?" "tell me. if you remember--kai! but you do remember--i see it in your face. tell me, and i will make that medicine also, my mother." "to-morrow, if i remember it--i will think, and if i remember it, to-morrow i will tell you, my heart's blood. maybe my dream will come to me and tell me. then, even after all these years, a papoose--" "but the boat will go at dawn to-morrow, and if he go also--" "mitiahwe is young, her body is warm, her eyes are bright, the songs she sings, her tongue--if these keep him not, and the voice calls him still to go, then still mitiahwe shall whisper, and tell him--" "hai-yo-hush," said the girl, and trembled a little, and put both hands on her mother's mouth. for a moment she stood so, then with an exclamation suddenly turned and ran through the doorway, and sped toward the river, and into the path which would take her to the post, where her man traded with the indians and had made much money during the past six years, so that he could have had a thousand horses and ten lodges like that she had just left. the distance between the lodge and the post was no more than a mile, but mitiahwe made a detour, and approached it from behind, where she could not be seen. darkness was gathering now, and she could see the glimmer of the light of lamps through the windows, and as the doors opened and shut. no one had seen her approach, and she stole through a door which was open at the rear of the warehousing room, and went quickly to another door leading into the shop. there was a crack through which she could see, and she could hear all that was said. as she came she had seen indians gliding through the woods with their purchases, and now the shop was clearing fast, in response to the urging of dingan and his partner, a scotch half-breed. it was evident that dingan was at once abstracted and excited. presently only two visitors were left, a french halfbreed call lablache, a swaggering, vicious fellow, and the captain of the steamer, ste. anne, which was to make its last trip south in the morning--even now it would have to break its way through the young ice. dingan's partner dropped a bar across the door of the shop, and the four men gathered about the fire. for a time no one spoke. at last the captain of the ste. anne said: "it's a great chance, dingan. you'll be in civilisation again, and in a rising town of white people--groise 'll be a city in five years, and you can grow up and grow rich with the place. the company asked me to lay it all before you, and lablache here will buy out your share of the business, at whatever your partner and you prove its worth. you're young; you've got everything before you. you've made a name out here for being the best trader west of the great lakes, and now's your time. it's none of my affair, of course, but i like to carry through what i'm set to do, and the company said, 'you bring dingan back with you. the place is waiting for him, and it can't wait longer than the last boat down.' you're ready to step in when he steps out, ain't you, lablache?" lablache shook back his long hair, and rolled about in his pride. "i give him cash for his share to-night someone is behin' me, share, yes! it is worth so much, i pay and step in--i take the place over. i take half the business here, and i work with dingan's partner. i take your horses, dingan, i take you lodge, i take all in your lodge--everyt'ing." his eyes glistened, and a red spot came to each cheek as he leaned forward. at his last word dingan, who had been standing abstractedly listening, as it were, swung round on him with a muttered oath, and the skin of his face appeared to tighten. watching through the crack of the door, mitiahwe saw the look she knew well, though it had never been turned on her, and her heart beat faster. it was a look that came into dingan's face whenever breaking rock crossed his path, or when one or two other names were mentioned in his presence, for they were names of men who had spoken of mitiahwe lightly, and had attempted to be jocular about her. as mitiahwe looked at him, now unknown to himself, she was conscious of what that last word of lablache's meant. everyt'ing meant herself. lablache--who had neither the good qualities of the white man nor the indian, but who had the brains of the one and the subtilty of the other, and whose only virtue was that he was a successful trader, though he looked like a mere woodsman, with rings in his ears, gaily decorated buckskin coat and moccasins, and a furtive smile always on his lips! everyt'ing!--her blood ran cold at the thought of dropping the lodgecurtain upon this man and herself alone. for no other man than dingan had her blood run faster, and he had made her life blossom. she had seen in many a half-breed's and in many an indian's face the look which was now in that of lablache, and her fingers gripped softly the thing in her belt that had flashed out on breaking rock such a short while ago. as she looked, it seemed for a moment as though dingan would open the door and throw lablache out, for in quick reflection his eyes ran from the man to the wooden bar across the door. "you'll talk of the shop, and the shop only, lablache," dingan said grimly. "i'm not huckstering my home, and i'd choose the buyer if i was selling. my lodge ain't to be bought, nor anything in it--not even the broom to keep it clean of any half-breeds that'd enter it without leave." there was malice in the words, but there was greater malice in the tone, and lablache, who was bent on getting the business, swallowed his ugly wrath, and determined that, if he got the business, he would get the lodge also in due time; for dingan, if he went, would not take the lodgeor the woman with him; and dingan was not fool enough to stay when he could go to groise to a sure fortune. the captain of the ste. anne again spoke. "there's another thing the company said, dingan. you needn't go to groise, not at once. you can take a month and visit your folks down east, and lay in a stock of homefeelings before you settle down at groise for good. they was fair when i put it to them that you'd mebbe want to do that. 'you tell dingan,' they said, 'that he can have the month glad and grateful, and a free ticket on the railway back and forth. he can have it at once,' they said." watching, mitiahwe could see her man's face brighten, and take on a look of longing at this suggestion; and it seemed to her that the bird she heard in the night was calling in his ears now. her eyes went blind a moment. "the game is with you, dingan. all the cards are in your hands; you'll never get such another chance again; and you're only thirty," said the captain. "i wish they'd ask me," said dingan's partner with a sigh, as he looked at lablache. "i want my chance bad, though we've done well here--good gosh, yes, all through dingan." "the winters, they go queeck in groise," said lablache. "it is life all the time, trade all the time, plenty to do and see--and a bon fortune to make, bagosh!" "your old home was in nove scotia, wasn't it, dingan?" asked the captain in a low voice. "i kem from connecticut, and i was east to my village las' year. it was good seein' all my old friends again; but i kem back content, i kem back full of home-feelin's and content. you'll like the trip, dingan. it'll do you good." dingan drew himself up with a start. "all right. i guess i'll do it. let's figure up again," he said to his partner with a reckless air. with a smothered cry mitiahwe turned and fled into the darkness, and back to the lodge. the lodge was empty. she threw herself upon the great couch in an agony of despair. a half-hour went by. then she rose, and began to prepare supper. her face was aflame, her manner was determined, and once or twice her hand went to her belt, as though to assure herself of something. never had the lodge looked so bright and cheerful; never had she prepared so appetising a supper; never had the great couch seemed so soft and rich with furs, so homelike and so inviting after a long day's work. never had mitiahwe seemed so good to look at, so graceful and alert and refined--suffering does its work even in the wild woods, with "wild people." never had the lodge such an air of welcome and peace and home as to-night; and so dingan thought as he drew aside the wide curtains of deerskin and entered. mitiahwe was bending over the fire and appeared not to hear him. "mitiahwe," he said gently. she was singing to herself to an indian air the words of a song dingan had taught her: "open the door: cold is the night, and my feet are heavy, heap up the fire, scatter upon it the cones and the scented leaves; spread the soft robe on the couch for the chief that returns, bring forth the cup of remembrance--" it was like a low recitative, and it had a plaintive cadence, as of a dove that mourned. "mitiahwe," he said in a louder voice, but with a break in it too; for it all rushed upon him, all that she had been to him--all that had made the great west glow with life, made the air sweeter, the grass greener, the trees more companionable and human: who it was that had given the waste places a voice. yet--yet, there were his own people in the east, there was another life waiting for him, there was the life of ambition and wealth, and, and home--and children. his eyes were misty as she turned to him with a little cry of surprise, how much natural and how much assumed--for she had heard him enter--it would have been hard to say. she was a woman, and therefore the daughter of pretence even when most real. he caught her by both arms as she shyly but eagerly came to him. "good girl, good little girl," he said. he looked round him. "well, i've never seen our lodge look nicer than it does to-night; and the fire, and the pot on the fire, and the smell of the pine-cones, and the cedar-boughs, and the skins, and--" "and everything," she said, with a queer little laugh, as she moved away again to turn the steaks on the fire. everything! he started at the word. it was so strange that she should use it by accident, when but a little while ago he had been ready to choke the wind out of a man's body for using it concerning herself. it stunned him for a moment, for the west, and the life apart from the world of cities, had given him superstition, like that of the indians, whose life he had made his own. herself--to leave her here, who had been so much to him? as true as the sun she worshipped, her eyes had never lingered on another man since she came to his lodge; and, to her mind, she was as truly sacredly married to him as though a thousand priests had spoken, or a thousand medicine men had made their incantations. she was his woman and he was her man. as he chatted to her, telling her of much that he had done that day, and wondering how he could tell her of all he had done, he kept looking round the lodge, his eye resting on this or that; and everything had its own personal history, had become part of their lodge-life, because it had a use as between him and her, and not a conventional domestic place. every skin, every utensil, every pitcher and bowl and pot and curtain, had been with them at one time or another, when it became of importance and renowned in the story of their days and deeds. how could he break it to her--that he was going to visit his own people, and that she must be alone with her mother all winter, to await his return in the spring? his return? as he watched her sitting beside him, helping him to his favourite dish, the close, companionable trust and gentleness of her, her exquisite cleanness and grace in his eyes, he asked himself if, after all, it was not true that he would return in the spring. the years had passed without his seriously thinking of this inevitable day. he had put it off and off, content to live each hour as it came and take no real thought for the future; and yet, behind all was the warning fact that he must go one day, and that mitiahwe could not go with him. her mother must have known that when she let mitiahwe come to him. of course; and, after all, she would find another mate, a better mate, one of her own people. but her hand was in his now, and it was small and very warm, and suddenly he shook with anger at the thought of one like breaking rock taking her to his wigwam; or lablache--this roused him to an inward fury; and mitiahwe saw and guessed the struggle that was going on in him, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, and once she raised his hand to her lips, and said, "my chief!" then his face cleared again, and she got him his pipe and filled it, and held a coal to light it; and, as the smoke curled up, and he leaned back contentedly for the moment, she went to the door, drew open the curtains, and, stepping outside, raised her eyes to the horseshoe. then she said softly to the sky: "o sun, great father, have pity on me, for i love him, and would keep him. and give me bone of his bone, and one to nurse at my breast that is of him. o sun, pity me this night, and be near me when i speak to him, and hear what i say!" "what are you doing out there, mitiahwe?" dingan cried; and when she entered again he beckoned her to him. "what was it you were saying? who were you speaking to?" he asked. "i heard your voice." "i was thanking the sun for his goodness to me. i was speaking for the thing that is in my heart, that is life of my life," she added vaguely. "well, i have something to say to you, little girl," he said, with an effort. she remained erect before him waiting for the blow--outwardly calm, inwardly crying out in pain. "do you think you could stand a little parting?" he asked, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "i have been alone before--for five days," she answered quietly. "but it must be longer this time." "how long?" she asked, with eyes fixed on his. "if it is more than a week i will go too." "it is longer than a month," he said. "then i will go." "i am going to see my people," he faltered. "by the ste. anne?" he nodded. "it is the last chance this year; but i will come back-in the spring." as he said it he saw her shrink, and his heart smote him. four years such as few men ever spent, and all the luck had been with him, and the west had got into his bones! the quiet, starry nights, the wonderful days, the hunt, the long journeys, the life free of care, and the warm lodge; and, here, the great couch--ah, the cheek pressed to his, the lips that whispered at his ear, the smooth arm round his neck. it all rushed upon him now. his people? his people in the east, who had thwarted his youth, vexed and cramped him, saw only evil in his widening desires, and threw him over when he came out west--the scallywag, they called him, who had never wronged a man or-or a woman! never--wronged-a-woman? the question sprang to his lips now. suddenly he saw it all in a new light. white or brown or red, this heart and soul and body before him were all his, sacred to him; he was in very truth her "chief." untutored as she was, she read him, felt what was going on in him. she saw the tears spring to his eyes. then, coming close to him she said softly, slowly: "i must go with you if you go, because you must be with me when--oh, hai-yai, my chief, shall we go from here? here in this lodge wilt thou be with thine own people--thine own, thou and i--and thine to come." the great passion in her heart made the lie seem very truth. with a cry he got to his feet, and stood staring at her for a moment, scarcely comprehending; then suddenly he clasped her in his arms. "mitiahwe--mitiahwe, oh, my little girl!" he cried. "you and me--and our own--our own people!" kissing her, he drew her down beside him on the couch. "tell me again--it is so at last?" he said, and she whispered in his ear once more. in the middle of the night he said to her, "some day, perhaps, we will go east--some day, perhaps." "but now?" she asked softly. "not now--not if i know it," he answered. "i've got my heart nailed to the door of this lodge." as he slept she got quietly out, and, going to the door of the lodge, reached up a hand and touched the horse-shoe. "be good medicine to me," she said. then she prayed. "o sun, pity me that it may be as i have said to him. o pity me, great father!" in the days to come swift wing said that it was her medicine; when her hand was burned to the wrist in the dark ritual she had performed with the medicine man the night that mitiahwe fought for her man--but mitiahwe said it was her medicine, the horse-shoe, which brought one of dingan's own people to the lodge, a little girl with mitiahwe's eyes and form and her father's face. truth has many mysteries, and the faith of the woman was great; and so it was that, to the long end, mitiahwe kept her man. but truly she was altogether a woman, and had good fortune. once at red man's river "it's got to be settled to-night, nance. this game is up here, up for ever. the redcoat police from ottawa are coming, and they'll soon be roostin' in this post; the injuns are goin', the buffaloes are most gone, and the fur trade's dead in these parts. d'ye see?" the woman did not answer the big, broad-shouldered man bending over her, but remained looking into the fire with wide, abstracted eyes and a face somewhat set. "you and your brother bantry's got to go. this store ain't worth a cent now. the hudson's bay company'll come along with the redcoats, and they'll set up a nice little sunday-school business here for what they call 'agricultural settlers.' there'll be a railway, and the yankees'll send up their marshals to work with the redcoats on the border, and--" "and the days of smuggling will be over," put in the girl in a low voice. "no more bull-wackers and muleskinners 'whooping it up'; no more blackfeet and piegans drinking alcohol and water, and cutting each others' throats. a nice quiet time coming on the border, abe, eh?" the man looked at her queerly. she was not prone to sarcasm, she had not been given to sentimentalism in the past; she had taken the border-life as it was, had looked it straight between the eyes. she had lived up to it, or down to it, without any fuss, as good as any man in any phase of the life, and the only white woman in this whole west country. it was not in the words, but in the tone, that abe hawley found something unusual and defamatory. "why, gol darn it, nance, what's got into you? you bin a man out west, as good a pioneer as ever was on the border. but now you don't sound friendly to what's been the game out here, and to all of us that've been risking our lives to get a livin'." "what did i say?" asked the girl, unmoved. "it ain't what you said, it's the sound o' your voice." "you don't know my voice, abe. it ain't always the same. you ain't always about; you don't always hear it." he caught her arm suddenly. "no, but i want to hear it always. i want to be always where you are, nance. that's what's got to be settled to-day--to-night." "oh, it's got to be settled to-night!" said the girl meditatively, kicking nervously at a log on the fire. "it takes two to settle a thing like that, and there's only one says it's got to be settled. maybe it takes more than two--or three--to settle a thing like that." now she laughed mirthlessly. the man started, and his face flushed with anger; then he put a hand on himself, drew a step back, and watched her. "one can settle a thing, if there's a dozen in it. you see, nance, you and bantry's got to close out. he's fixing it up to-night over at dingan's drive, and you can't go it alone when you quit this place. now, it's this way: you can go west with bantry, or you can go north with me. away north there's buffalo and deer, and game aplenty, up along the saskatchewan, and farther up on the peace river. it's going to be all right up there for half a lifetime, and we can have it in our own way yet. there'll be no smuggling, but there'll be trading, and land to get; and, mebbe, there'd be no need of smuggling, for we can make it, i know how--good white whiskey--and we'll still have this free life for our own. i can't make up my mind to settle down to a clean collar and going to church on sundays, and all that. and the west's in your bones too. you look like the west--" the girl's face brightened with pleasure, and she gazed at him steadily. "you got its beauty and its freshness, and you got its heat and cold--" she saw the tobacco-juice stain at the corners of his mouth, she became conscious of the slight odour of spirits in the air, and the light in her face lowered in intensity. "you got the ways of the deer in your walk, the song o' the birds in your voice; and you're going north with me, nance, for i bin talkin' to you stiddy four years. it's a long time to wait on the chance, for there's always women to be got, same as others have done--men like dingan with injun girls, and men like tobey with half-breeds. but i ain't bin lookin' that way. i bin lookin' only towards you." he laughed eagerly, and lifted a tin cup of whiskey standing on a table near. "i'm lookin' towards you now, nance. your health and mine together. it's got to be settled now. you got to go to the 'cific coast with bantry, or north with me." the girl jerked a shoulder and frowned a little. he seemed so sure of himself. "or south with nick pringle, or east with someone else," she said quizzically. "there's always four quarters to the compass, even when abe hawley thinks he owns the world and has a mortgage on eternity. i'm not going west with bantry, but there's three other points that's open." with an oath the man caught her by the shoulders, and swung her round to face him. he was swelling with anger. "you--nick pringle, that trading cheat, that gambler! after four years, i--" "let go my shoulders," she said quietly. "i'm not your property. go and get some piegan girl to bully. keep your hands off. i'm not a bronco for you to bit and bridle. you've got no rights. you--" suddenly she relented, seeing the look in his face, and realising that, after all, it was a tribute to herself that she could keep him for four years and rouse him to such fury--"but yes, abe," she added, "you have some rights. we've been good friends all these years, and you've been all right out here. you said some nice things about me just now, and i liked it, even if it was as if you learned it out of a book. i've got no po'try in me; i'm plain homespun. i'm a sapling, i'm not any prairie-flower, but i like when i like, and i like a lot when i like. i'm a bit of hickory, i'm not a prairie-flower--" "who said you was a prairie-flower? did i? who's talking about prairieflowers--" he stopped suddenly, turned round at the sound of a footstep behind him, and saw, standing in a doorway leading to another room, a man who was digging his knuckles into his eyes and stifling a yawn. he was a refined-looking stripling of not more than twenty-four, not tall, but well made, and with an air of breeding, intensified rather than hidden by his rough clothes. "je-rick-ety! how long have i slept?" he said, blinking at the two beside the fire. "how long?" he added, with a flutter of anxiety in his tone. "i said i'd wake you," said the girl, coming forwards. "you needn't have worried." "i don't worry," answered the young man. "i dreamed myself awake, i suppose. i got dreaming of redcoats and u. s. marshals, and an ambush in the barfleur coulee, and--" he saw a secret, warning gesture from the girl, and laughed, then turned to abe and looked him in the face. "oh, i know him! abe hawley's all o. k.--i've seen him over at dingan's drive. honour among rogues. we're all in it. how goes it--all right?" he added carelessly to hawley, and took a step forwards, as though to shake hands. seeing the forbidding look by which he was met, however, he turned to the girl again, as hawley muttered something they could not hear. "what time is it?" he asked. "it's nine o'clock," answered the girl, her eyes watching his every movement, her face alive. "then the moon's up almost?" "it'll be up in an hour." "jerickety! then i've got to get ready." he turned to the other room again and entered. "college pup!" said hawley under his breath savagely. "why didn't you tell me he was here?" "was it any of your business, abe?" she rejoined quietly. "hiding him away here--" "hiding? who's been hiding him? he's doing what you've done. he's smuggling--the last lot for the traders over by dingan's drive. he'll get it there by morning. he has as much right here as you. what's got into you, abe?" "what does he know about the business? why, he's a college man from the east. i've heard o' him. ain't got no more sense for this life than a dicky-bird. white-faced college pup! what's he doing out here? if you're a friend o' his, you'd better look after him. he's green." "he's going east again," she said, "and if i don't go west with bantry, or south over to montana with nick pringle, or north--" "nancy--" his eyes burned, his lips quivered. she looked at him and wondered at the power she had over this bully of the border, who had his own way with most people, and was one of the most daring fighters, hunters, and smugglers in the country. he was cool, hard, and well-in-hand in his daily life, and yet, where she was concerned, "went all to pieces," as someone else had said about himself to her. she was not without the wiles and tact of her sex. "you go now, and come back, abe," she said in a soft voice. "come back in an hour. come back then, and i'll tell you which way i'm going from here." he was all right again. "it's with you, nancy," he said eagerly. "i bin waiting four years." as he closed the door behind him the "college pup" entered the room again. "oh, abe's gone!" he said excitedly. "i hoped you'd get rid of the old rip-roarer. i wanted to be alone with you for a while. i don't really need to start yet. with the full moon i can do it before daylight." then, with quick warmth, "ah, nancy, nancy, you're a flower-the flower of all the prairies," he added, catching her hand and laughing into her eyes. she flushed, and for a moment seemed almost bewildered. his boldness, joined to an air of insinuation and understanding, had influenced her greatly from the first moment they had met two months ago, as he was going south on his smuggling enterprise. the easy way in which he had talked to her, the extraordinary sense he seemed to have of what was going on in her mind, the confidential meaning in voice and tone and words had, somehow, opened up a side of her nature hitherto unexplored. she had talked with him freely then, for it was only when he left her that he said what he instinctively knew she would remember till they met again. his quick comments, his indirect but acute questions, his exciting and alluring reminiscences of the east, his subtle yet seemingly frank compliments, had only stimulated a new capacity in her, evoked comparisons of this delicate-looking, fine-faced gentleman with the men of the west by whom she was surrounded. but later he appeared to stumble into expressions of admiration for her, as though he was carried off his feet and had been stunned by her charm. he had done it all like a master. he had not said that she was beautiful--she knew she was not-but that she was wonderful, and fascinating, and with "something about her" he had never seen in all his life, like her own prairies, thrilling, inspiring, and adorable. his first look at her had seemed full of amazement. she had noticed that, and thought it meant only that he was surprised to find a white girl out here among smugglers, hunters, squawmen, and indians. but he said that the first look at her had made him feel things-feel life and women different from ever before; and he had never seen anyone like her, nor a face with so much in it. it was all very brilliantly done. "you make me want to live," he had said, and she, with no knowledge of the nuances of language, had taken it literally, and had asked him if it had been his wish to die; and he had responded to her mistaken interpretation of his meaning, saying that he had had such sorrow he had not wanted to live. as he said it his face looked, in truth, overcome by some deep inward care; so that there came a sort of feeling she had never had so far for any man--that he ought to have someone to look after him. this was the first real stirring of the maternal and protective spirit in her towards men, though it had shown itself amply enough regarding animals and birds. he had said he had not wanted to live, and yet he had come out west in order to try and live, to cure the trouble that had started in his lungs. the eastern doctors had told him that the rough outdoor life would cure him, or nothing would, and he had vanished from the college walls and the pleasant purlieus of learning and fashion into the wilds. he had not lied directly to her when he said that he had had deep trouble; but he had given the impression that he was suffering from wrongs which had broken his spirit and ruined his health. wrongs there certainly had been in his life, by whomever committed. two months ago he had left this girl with her mind full of memories of what he had said to her, and there was something in the sound of the slight cough following his farewell words which had haunted her ever since. her tremendous health and energy, the fire of life burning so brightly in her, reached out towards this man living on so narrow a margin of force, with no reserve for any extra strain, with just enough for each day's use and no more. four hours before he had come again with his team of four mules and an indian youth, having covered forty miles since his last stage. she was at the door and saw him coming while he was yet along distance off. some instinct had told her to watch that afternoon, for she knew of his intended return and of his dangerous enterprise. the indians had trailed south and east, the traders had disappeared with them, her brother bantry had gone up and over to dingan's drive, and, save for a few loiterers and last hangers-on, she was alone with what must soon be a deserted post; its walls, its great enclosed yard, and its gun-platforms (for it had been fortified) left for law and order to enter upon, in the persons of the red-coated watchmen of the law. out of the south, from over the border, bringing the last great smuggled load of whiskey which was to be handed over at dingan's drive, and then floated on red man's river to settlements up north, came the "college pup," kelly lambton, worn out, dazed with fatigue, but smiling too, for a woman's face was ever a tonic to his blood since he was big enough to move in life for himself. it needed courage--or recklessness--to run the border now; for, as abe hawley had said, the american marshals were on the pounce, the red-coated mounted police were coming west from ottawa, and word had winged its way along the prairie that these redcoats were only a few score miles away, and might be at fort fair desire at any moment. the trail to dingan's drive lay past it. through barfleur coulee, athwart a great open stretch of country, along a wooded belt, and then, suddenly, over a ridge, dingan's drive and red man's river would be reached. the government had a mind to make an example, if necessary, by killing some smugglers in conflict, and the united states marshals had been goaded by vanity and anger at one or two escapes "to have something for their money," as they said. that, in their language, meant, "to let the red run," and kelly lambton had none too much blood to lose. he looked very pale and beaten as he held nance machell's hands now, and called her a prairie-flower, as he had done when he left her two months before. on his arrival but now he had said little, for he saw that she was glad to see him, and he was dead for sleep, after thirty-six hours of ceaseless travel and watching and danger. now, with the most perilous part of his journey still before him, and worn physically as he was, his blood was running faster as he looked into the girl's face, and something in her abundant force and bounding life drew him to her. such vitality in a man like abe hawley would have angered him almost, as it did a little time ago, when abe was there; but possessed by the girl, it roused in him a hunger to draw from the well of her perfect health, from the unused vigour of her being, something for himself. the touch of her hands warmed him, in the fulness of her life, in the strong eloquence of face and form, he forgot she was not beautiful. the lightness passed from his words, and his face became eager. "flower, yes, the flower of the life of the west--that's what i mean," he said. "you are like an army marching. when i look at you, my blood runs faster. i want to march too. when i hold your hand i feel that life's worth living--i want to do things." she drew her hand away rather awkwardly. she had not now that command of herself which had ever been easy with the men of the west, except, perhaps, with abe hawley when-but with an attempt, only half-meant, to turn the topic, she said: "you must be starting if you want to get through to-night. if the redcoats catch you this side of barfleur coulee, or in the coulee itself, you'll stand no chance. i heard they was only thirty miles north this afternoon. maybe they'll come straight on here to-night, instead of camping. if they have news of your coming, they might. you can't tell." "you're right." he caught her hand again. "i've got to be going now. but nance--nance--nancy, i want to stay here, here with you; or to take you with me." she drew back. "what do you mean?" she asked. "take me with you--me-where?" "east--away down east." her brain throbbed, her pulses beat so hard. she scarcely knew what to say, did not know what she said. "why do you do this kind of thing? why do you smuggle?" she asked. "you wasn't brought up to this." "to get this load of stuff through is life and death to me," he answered. "i've made six thousand dollars out here. that's enough to start me again in the east, where i lost everything. but i've got to have six hundred dollars clear for the travel--railways and things; and i'm having this last run to get it. then i've finished with the west, i guess. my health's better; the lung is closed up, i've only got a little cough now and again; and i'm off east. i don't want to go alone." he suddenly caught her in his arms. "i want you--you, to go with me, nancy--nance!" her brain swam. to leave the west behind, to go east to a new life full of pleasant things, as this man's wife! her great heart rose, and suddenly the mother in her as well as the woman in her was captured by his wooing. she had never known what it was to be wooed like this. she was about to answer, when there came a sharp knock at the door leading from the backyard, and lambton's indian lad entered. "the soldier--he come--many. i go over the ridge; i see. they come quick here," he said. nance gave a startled cry, and lambton turned to the other room for his pistols, overcoat, and cap, when there was the sound of horses' hoofs, the door suddenly opened, and an officer stepped inside. "you're wanted for smuggling, lambton," he said brusquely. "don't stir!" in his hand was a revolver. "oh, bosh! prove it," answered the young man, pale and startled, but cool in speech and action. "we'll prove it all right. the stuff is hereabouts." the girl said something to the officer in the chinook language. she saw he did not understand. then she spoke quickly to lambton in the same tongue. "keep him here a bit," she said. "his men haven't come yet. your outfit is well hid. i'll see if i can get away with it before they find it. they'll follow, and bring you with them, that's sure. so if i have luck and get through, we'll meet at dingan's drive." lambton's face brightened. he quickly gave her a few directions in chinook, and told her what to do at dingan's if she got there first. then she was gone. the officer did not understand what nance had said, but he realised that, whatever she intended to do, she had an advantage over him. with an unnecessary courage he had ridden on alone to make his capture, and, as it proved, without prudence. he had got his man, but he had not got the smuggled whiskey and alcohol he had come to seize. there was no time to be lost. the girl had gone before he realised it. what had she said to the prisoner? he was foolish enough to ask lambton, and lambton replied coolly: "she said she'd get you some supper, but she guessed it would have to be cold--what's your name? are you a colonel, or a captain, or only a principal private?" "i am captain macfee, lambton. and you'll now bring me where your outfit is. march!" the pistol was still in his hand, and he had a determined look in his eye. lambton saw it. he was aware of how much power lay in the threatening face before him, and how eager that power was to make itself felt, and provide "examples"; but he took his chances. "i'll march all right," he answered, "but i'll march to where you tell me. you can't have it both ways. you can take me, because you've found me, and you can take my outfit too when you've found it; but i'm not doing your work, not if i know it." there was a blaze of anger in the eyes of the officer, and it looked for an instant as though something of the lawlessness of the border was going to mark the first step of the law in the wilderness, but he bethought himself in time, and said quietly, yet in a voice which lambton knew he must heed: "put on your things-quick." when this was accomplished, and macfee had secured the smuggler's pistols, he said again, "march, lambton." lambton marched through the moonlit night towards the troop of men who had come to set up the flag of order in the plains and hills, and as he went his keen ear heard his own mules galloping away down towards the barfleur coulee. his heart thumped in his breast. this girl, this prairie-flower, was doing this for him, was risking her life, was breaking the law for him. if she got through, and handed over the whiskey to those who were waiting for it, and it got bundled into the boats going north before the redcoats reached dingan's drive, it would be as fine a performance as the west had ever seen; and he would be six hundred dollars to the good. he listened to the mules galloping, till the sounds had died into the distance, but he saw now that his captor had heard too, and that the pursuit would be desperate. a half-hour later it began, with macfee at the head, and a dozen troopers pounding behind, weary, hungry, bad-tempered, ready to exact payment for their hardships and discouragement. they had not gone a dozen miles when a shouting horseman rode furiously on them from behind. they turned with carbines cocked, but it was abe hawley who cursed them, flung his fingers in their faces, and rode on harder and harder. abe had got the news from one of nancy's half-breeds, and, with the devil raging in his heart, had entered on the chase. his spirit was up against them all; against the law represented by the troopers camped at fort fair desire, against the troopers and their captain speeding after nancy machell--his nonce, who was risking her life and freedom for the hated, pale-faced smuggler riding between the troopers; and his spirit was up against nance herself. nance had said to him, "come back in an hour," and he had come back to find her gone. she had broken her word. she had deceived him. she had thrown the four years of his waiting to the winds, and a savage lust was in his heart, which would not be appeased till he had done some evil thing to someone. the girl and the indian lad were pounding through the night with ears strained to listen for hoof-beats coming after, with eyes searching forward into the trail for swollen creeks and direful obstructions. through barfleur coulee it was a terrible march, for there was no road, and again and again they were nearly overturned, while wolves hovered in their path, ready to reap a midnight harvest. but once in the open again, with the full moonlight on their trail, the girl's spirits rose. if she could do this thing for the man who had looked into her eyes as no one had ever done, what a finish to her days in the west! for they were finished, finished for ever, and she was going--she was going east; not west with bantry, nor south with nick pringle, nor north with abe hawley, ah, abe hawley, he had been a good friend, he had a great heart, he was the best man of all the western men she had known; but another man had come from the east, a man who had roused something in her never felt before, a man who had said she was wonderful; and he needed someone to take good care of him, to make him love life again. abe would have been all right if lambton had never come, and she had meant to marry abe in the end; but it was different now, and abe must get over it. yet she had told abe to come back in an hour. he was sure to do it; and, when he had done it, and found her gone on this errand, what would he do? she knew what he would do. he would hurt someone. he would follow too. but at dingan's drive, if she reached it before the troopers and before abe, and did the thing she had set out to do; and, because no whiskey could be found, lambton must go free; and they all stood there together, what would be the end? abe would be terrible; but she was going east, not north, and when the time came she would face it and put things right somehow. the night seemed endless to her fixed and anxious eyes and mind, yet dawn came, and there had fallen no sound of hoof-beats on her ear. the ridge above dingan's drive was reached and covered, but yet there was no sign of her pursuers. at red man's river she delivered her load of contraband to the traders waiting for it, and saw it loaded into the boats and disappear beyond the wooded bend above dingan's. then she collapsed into the arms of her brother bantry, and was carried, fainting, into dingan's lodge. a half-hour later macfee and his troopers and lambton came. macfee grimly searched the post and the shore, but he saw by the looks of all that he had been foiled. he had no proof of anything, and lambton must go free. "you've fooled us," he said to nance sourly, yet with a kind of admiration too. "through you they got away with it. but i wouldn't try it again, if i were you." "once is enough," answered the girl laconically, as lambton, set free, caught both her hands in his and whispered in her ear. macfee turned to the others. "you'd better drop this kind of thing," he said. "i mean business." they saw the troopers by the horses, and nodded. "well, we was about quit of it anyhow," said bantry. "we've had all we want out here." a loud laugh went up, and it was still ringing when there burst into the group, out of the trail, abe hawley, on foot. he looked round the group savagely till his eyes rested on nance and lambton. "i'm last in," he said in a hoarse voice. "my horse broke its leg cutting across to get here before her--" he waved a hand towards nance. "it's best stickin' to old trails, not tryin' new ones." his eyes were full of hate as he looked at lambton. "i'm keeping to old trails. i'm for goin' north, far up, where these two-dollar-a-day and hash-and-clothes people ain't come yet." he made a contemptuous gesture toward macfee and his troopers. "i'm goin' north--" he took a step forward and fixed his bloodshot eyes on nance. "i say i'm goin' north. you comin' with me, nance?" he took off his cap to her. he was haggard, his buckskins were torn, his hair was dishevelled, and he limped a little; but he was a massive and striking figure, and macfee watched him closely, for there was that in his eyes which meant trouble. "you said, 'come back in an hour,' nance, and i come back, as i said i would," he went on. "you didn't stand to your word. i've come to git it. i'm goin' north, nance, and i bin waitin' for four years for you to go with me. are you comin'?" his voice was quiet, but it had a choking kind of sound, and it struck strangely in the ears of all. macfee came nearer. "are you comin' with me, nance, dear?" she reached a hand towards lambton, and he took it, but she did not speak. something in abe's eyes overwhelmed her--something she had never seen before, and it seemed to stifle speech in her. lambton spoke instead. "she's going east with me," he said. "that's settled." macfee started. then he caught abe's arm. "wait!" he said peremptorily. "wait one minute." there was something in his voice which held abe back for the instant. "you say she is going east with you," macfee said sharply to lambton. "what for?" he fastened lambton with his eyes, and lambton quailed. "have you told her you've got a wife--down east? i've got your history, lambton. have you told her that you've got a wife you married when you were at college--and as good a girl as ever lived?" it had come with terrible suddenness even to lambton, and he was too dazed to make any reply. with a cry of shame and anger nancy started back. growling with rage and hate, abe hawley sprang toward lambton, but the master of the troopers stepped between. no one could tell who moved first, or who first made the suggestion, for the minds of all were the same, and the general purpose was instantaneous; but in the fraction of a minute lambton, under menace, was on his hands and knees crawling to the riverside. watchful, but not interfering, the master of the troopers saw him set adrift in a canoe without a paddle, while he was pelted with mud from the shore. the next morning at sunrise abe hawley and the girl he had waited for so long started on the north trail together, macfee, master of the troopers and justice of the peace, handing over the marriage lines. the strobe of the hour "they won't come to-night--sure." the girl looked again towards the west, where, here and there, bare poles, or branches of trees, or slips of underbrush marked a road made across the plains through the snow. the sun was going down golden red, folding up the sky a wide soft curtain of pink and mauve and deep purple merging into the fathomless blue, where already the stars were beginning to quiver. the house stood on the edge of a little forest, which had boldly asserted itself in the wide flatness. at this point in the west the prairie merged into an undulating territory, where hill and wood rolled away from the banks of the saskatchewan, making another england in beauty. the forest was a sort of advance-post of that land of beauty. yet there was beauty too on this prairie, though there was nothing to the east but snow and the forest so far as eye could see. nobility and peace and power brooded over the white world. as the girl looked, it seemed as though the bosom of the land rose and fell. she had felt this vibrating life beat beneath the frozen surface. now, as she gazed, she smiled sadly to herself, with drooping eyelids looking out from beneath strong brows. "i know you--i know you," she said aloud. "you've got to take your toll. and when you're lying asleep like that, or pretending to, you reach upand kill. and yet you can be kind-ah, but you can be kind and beautiful! but you must have your toll one way or t'other." she sighed and paused; then, after a moment, looking along the trail--"i don't expect they'll come to-night, and mebbe not to-morrow, if--if they stay for that." her eyes closed, she shivered a little. her lips drew tight, and her face seemed suddenly to get thinner. "but dad wouldn't--no, he couldn't, not considerin'--" again she shut her eyes in pain. her face was now turned from the western road by which she had expected her travellers, and towards the east, where already the snow was taking on a faint bluish tint, a reflection of the sky deepening nightwards in that half-circle of the horizon. distant and a little bleak and cheerless the half-circle was looking now. "no one--not for two weeks," she said, in comment on the eastern trail, which was so little frequented in winter, and this year had been less travelled than ever. "it would be nice to have a neighbour," she added, as she faced the west and the sinking sun again. "i get so lonely--just minutes i get lonely. but it's them minutes that seem to count more than all the rest when they come. i expect that's it--we don't live in months and years, but just in minutes. it doesn't take long for an earthquake to do its work--it's seconds then. . . . p'r'aps dad won't even come to-morrow," she added, as she laid her hand on the latch. "it never seemed so long before, not even when he's been away a week." she laughed bitterly. "even bad company's better than no company at all. sure. and mickey has been here always when dad's been away past times. mickey was a fool, but he was company; and mebbe he'd have been better company if he'd been more of a scamp and less a fool. i dunno, but i really think he would. bad company doesn't put you off so." there was a scratching at the inside of the door. "my, if i didn't forget shako," she said, "and he dying for a run!" she opened the door quickly, and out jumped a russian dog of almost full breed, with big, soft eyes like those of his mistress, and with the air of the north in every motion--like his mistress also. "come, shako, a run--a run!" an instant after she was flying off on a path towards the woods, her short skirts flying and showing limbs as graceful and shapely as those of any woman of that world of social grace which she had never seen; for she was a prairie girl through and through, born on the plains and fed on its scanty fare--scanty as to variety, at least. backwards and forwards they ran, the girl shouting like a child of ten,--she was twenty-three, her eyes flashing, her fine white teeth showing, her hands thrown up in sheer excess of animal life, her hair blowing about her face-brown, strong hair, wavy and plentiful. fine creature as she was, her finest features were her eyes and her hands. the eyes might have been found in the most savage places; the hands, however, only could have come through breeding. she had got them honestly; for her mother was descended from an old family of the french province. that was why she had the name of loisette--and had a touch of distinction. it was the strain of the patrician in the full blood of the peasant; but it gave her something which made her what she was--what she had been since a child, noticeable and besought, sometimes beloved. it was too strong a nature to compel love often, but it never failed to compel admiration. not greatly a creature of words, she had become moody of late; and even now, alive with light and feeling and animal life, she suddenly stopped her romp and run, and called the dog to her. "heel, shako!" she said, and made for the door of the little house, which looked so snug and home-like. she paused before she came to the door, to watch the smoke curling up from the chimney straight as a column, for there was not a breath of air stirring. the sun was almost gone and the strong bluish light was settling on everything, giving even the green spruce trees a curious burnished tone. swish! thud! she faced the woods quickly. it was only a sound that she had heard how many hundreds of times! it was the snow slipping from some broad branch of the fir trees to the ground. yet she started now. something was on her mind, agitating her senses, affecting her selfcontrol. "i'll be jumping out of my boots when the fire snaps, or the frost cracks the ice, next," she said aloud contemptuously. "i dunno what's the matter with me. i feel as if someone was hiding somewhere ready to pop out on me. i haven't never felt like that before." she had formed the habit of talking to herself, for it had seemed at first, as she was left alone when her father went trapping or upon journeys for the government, that by and by she would start at the sound of her own voice, if she didn't think aloud. so she was given to soliloquy, defying the old belief that people who talked to themselves were going mad. she laughed at that. she said that birds sang to themselves and didn't go mad, and crickets chirruped, and frogs croaked, and owls hooted, and she would talk and not go crazy either. so she talked to herself and to shako when she was alone. how quiet it was inside when her light supper was eaten, bread and beans and pea-soup--she had got this from her french mother. now she sat, her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hands, looking into the fire. shako was at her feet upon the great musk-ox rug, which her father had got on one of his hunting trips in the athabasca country years ago. it belonged as she belonged. it breathed of the life of the north-land, for the timbers of the hut were hewn cedar; the rough chimney, the seats, and the shelves on which a few books made a fair show beside the bright tins and the scanty crockery, were of pine; and the horned heads of deer and wapiti made pegs for coats and caps, and rests for guns and rifles. it was a place of comfort; it had an air of well-to-do thrift, even as the girl's dress, though plain, was made of good sound stuff, grey, with a touch of dark red to match the auburn of her hair. a book lay open in her lap, but she had scarcely tried to read it. she had put it down after a few moments fixed upon it. it had sent her thoughts off into a world where her life had played a part too big for books, too deep for the plummet of any save those who had lived through the storm of life's trials; and life when it is bitter to the young is bitter with an agony the old never know. at last she spoke to herself. "she knows now. now she knows what it is, how it feels--your heart like red-hot coals, and something in your head that's like a turnscrew, and you want to die and can't, for you've got to live and suffer." again she was quiet, and only the dog's heavy breathing, the snap of the fire, or the crack of a timber in the deadly frost broke the silence. inside it was warm and bright and home-like; outside it was twenty degrees below zero, and like some vast tomb where life itself was congealed, and only the white stars, low, twinkling, and quizzical, lived-a life of sharp corrosion, not of fire. suddenly she raised her head and listened. the dog did the same. none but those whose lives are lived in lonely places can be so acute, so sensitive to sound. it was a feeling delicate and intense, the whole nature getting the vibration. you could have heard nothing had you been there; none but one who was of the wide spaces could have done so. but the dog and the woman felt, and both strained towards the window. again they heard, and started to their feet. it was far, far away, and still you could not have heard; but now they heard clearly--a cry in the night, a cry of pain and despair. the girl ran to the window and pulled aside the bearskin curtain which had completely shut out the light. then she stirred the fire, threw a log upon it, snuffed the candles, hastily put on her moccasins, fur coat, wool cap, and gloves, and went to the door quickly, the dog at her heels. opening it, she stepped out into the night. "qui va la? who is it? where?" she called, and strained towards the west. she thought it might be her father or mickey the hired man, or both. the answer came from the east, out of the homeless, neighbourless, empty east--a cry, louder now. there were only stars, and the night was dark, though not deep dark. she sped along the prairie road as fast as she could, once or twice stopping to call aloud. in answer to her calls the voice sounded nearer and nearer. now suddenly she left the trail and bore away northward. at last the voice was very near. presently a figure appeared ahead, staggering towards her. "qui va la? who is it?" she asked. "ba'tiste caron," was the reply in english, in a faint voice. she was beside him in an instant. "what has happened? why are you off the trail?" she said, and supported him. "my injun stoled my dogs and run off," he replied. "i run after. then, when i am to come to the trail"--he paused to find the english word, and could not--"encore to this trail i no can. so. ah, bon dieu, it has so awful!" he swayed and would have fallen, but she caught him, bore him up. she was so strong, and he was as slight as a girl, though tall. "when was that?" she asked. "two nights ago," he answered, and swayed. "wait," she said, and pulled a flask from her pocket. "drink this-quick." he raised it to his lips, but her hand was still on it, and she only let him take a little. then she drew it away, though she had almost to use force, he was so eager for it. now she took a biscuit from her pocket. "eat; then some more brandy after," she urged. "come on; it's not far. see, there's the light," she added cheerily, raising her head towards the hut. "i saw it just when i have fall down--it safe me. i sit down to die-like that! but it safe me, that light--so. ah, bon dieu, it was so far, and i want eat so!" already he had swallowed the biscuit. "when did you eat last?" she asked, as she urged him on. "two nights--except for one leetla piece of bread--o--o--i fin' it in my pocket. grace! i have travel so far. jesu, i think it ees ten thousan' miles i go. but i mus' go on, i mus' go--o--certainement." the light came nearer and nearer. his footsteps quickened, though he staggered now and then, and went like a horse that has run its race, but is driven upon its course again, going heavily with mouth open and head thrown forwards and down. "but i mus' to get there, an' you-you will to help me, eh?" again he swayed, but her strong arm held him up. as they ran on, in a kind of dog-trot, her hand firm upon his arm--he seemed not to notice it --she became conscious, though it was half dark, of what sort of man she had saved. he was about her own age, perhaps a year or two older, with little, if any, hair upon his face, save a slight moustache. his eyes, deep sunken as they were, she made out were black, and the face, though drawn and famished, had a handsome look. presently she gave him another sip of brandy, and he quickened his steps, speaking to himself the while. "i haf to do it--if i lif. it is to go, go, go, till i get." now they came to the hut where the firelight flickered on the windowpane; the door was flung open, and, as he stumbled on the threshold, she helped him into the warm room. she almost pushed him over to the fire. divested of his outer coat, muffler, cap, and leggings, he sat on a bench before the fire, his eyes wandering from the girl to the flames, and his hands clasping and unclasping between his knees. his eyes dilating with hunger, he watched her preparations for his supper; and when at last--and she had been but a moment--it was placed before him, his head swam, and he turned faint with the stress of his longing. he would have swallowed a basin of pea-soup at a draught, but she stopped him, holding the basin till she thought he might venture again. then came cold beans, and some meat which she toasted at the fire and laid upon his plate. they had not spoken since first entering the house, when tears had shone in his eyes, and he had said: "you have safe--ah, you have safe me, and so i will do it yet by help bon dieu--yes." the meat was done at last, and he sat with a great dish of tea beside him, and his pipe alight. "what time, if please?" he asked. "i t'ink nine hour, but no sure." "it is near nine," she said. she hastily tidied up the table after his meal, and then came and sat in her chair over against the wall of the rude fireplace. "nine--dat is good. the moon rise at 'leven; den i go. i go on," he said, "if you show me de queeck way." "you go on--how can you go on?" she asked, almost sharply. "will you not to show me?" he asked. "show you what?" she asked abruptly. "the queeck way to askatoon," he said, as though surprised that she should ask. "they say me if i get here you will tell me queeck way to askatoon. time, he go so fas', an' i have loose a day an' a night, an' i mus' get askatoon if i lif--i mus' get dere in time. it is all safe to de stroke of de hour, mais, after, it is--bon dieu--it is hell then. who shall forgif me--no!" "the stroke of the hour--the stroke of the hour!" it beat into her brain. were they both thinking of the same thing now? "you will show me queeck way. i mus' be askatoon in two days, or it is all over," he almost moaned. "is no man here--i forget dat name, my head go round like a wheel; but i know dis place, an' de good god he help me fin' my way to where i call out, bien sur. dat man's name i have forget." "my father's name is john alroyd," she answered absently, for there were hammering at her brain the words, "the stroke of the hour." "ah, now i get--yes. an' your name, it is loisette alroy'--ah, i have it in my mind now--loisette. i not forget dat name, i not forget you--no." "why do you want to go the 'quick' way to askatoon?" she asked. he puffed a moment at his pipe before he answered her. presently he said, holding out his pipe, "you not like smoke, mebbe?" she shook her head in negation, making an impatient gesture. "i forget ask you," he said. "dat journee make me forget. when injun jo, he leave me with the dogs, an' i wake up all alone, an' not know my way--not like jo, i think i die, it is so bad, so terrible in my head. not'ing but snow, not'ing. but dere is de sun; it shine. it say to me, 'wake up, ba'tiste; it will be all right bime-bye.' but all time i t'ink i go mad, for i mus' get askatoon before--dat." she started. had she not used the same word in thinking of askatoon. "that," she had said. "why do you want to go the 'quick' way to askatoon?" she asked again, her face pale, her foot beating the floor impatiently. "to save him before dat!" he answered, as though she knew of what he was speaking and thinking. "what is that?" she asked. she knew now, surely, but she must ask it nevertheless. "dat hanging--of haman," he answered. he nodded to himself. then he took to gazing into the fire. his lips moved as though talking to himself, and the hand that held the pipe lay forgotten on his knee. "what have you to do with haman?" she asked slowly, her eyes burning. "i want safe him--i mus' give him free." he tapped his breast. "it is hereto mak' him free." he still tapped his breast. for a moment she stood frozen still, her face thin and drawn and white; then suddenly the blood rushed back into her face, and a red storm raged in her eyes. she thought of the sister, younger than herself, whom rube haman had married and driven to her grave within a year--the sweet lucy, with the name of her father's mother. lucy had been all english in face and tongue, a flower of the west, driven to darkness by this horse-dealing brute, who, before he was arrested and tried for murder, was about to marry kate wimper. kate wimper had stolen him from lucy before lucy's first and only child was born, the child that could not survive the warm mother-life withdrawn, and so had gone down the valley whither the broken-hearted mother had fled. it was kate wimper, who, before that, had waylaid the one man for whom she herself had ever cared, and drawn him from her side by such attractions as she herself would keep for an honest wife, if such she ever chanced to be. an honest wife she would have been had kate wimper not crossed the straight path of her life. the man she had loved was gone to his end also, reckless and hopeless, after he had thrown away his chance of a lifetime with loisette alroyd. there had been left behind this girl, to whom tragedy had come too young, who drank humiliation with a heart as proud as ever straightly set its course through crooked ways. it had hurt her, twisted her nature a little, given a fountain of bitterness to her soul, which welled up and flooded her life sometimes. it had given her face no sourness, but it put a shadow into her eyes. she had been glad when haman was condemned for murder, for she believed he had committed it, and ten times hanging could not compensate for that dear life gone from their sight--lucy, the pride of her father's heart. she was glad when haman was condemned, because of the woman who had stolen him from lucy, because of that other man, her lover, gone out of her own life. the new hardness in her rejoiced that now the woman, if she had any heart at all, must have it bowed down by this supreme humiliation and wrung by the ugly tragedy of the hempen rope. and now this man before her, this man with a boy's face, with the dark luminous eyes, whom she had saved from the frozen plains, he had that in his breast which would free haman, so he had said. a fury had its birth in her at that moment. something seemed to seize her brain and master it, something so big that it held all her faculties in perfect control, and she felt herself in an atmosphere where all life moved round her mechanically, she herself the only sentient thing, so much greater than all she saw, or all that she realised by her subconscious self. everything in the world seemed small. how calm it was even with the fury within! "tell me," she said quietly--"tell me how you are able to save haman?" "he not kill wakely. it is my brudder fadette dat kill and get away. haman he is drunk, and everyt'ing seem to say haman he did it, an' everyone know haman is not friend to wakely. so the juree say he must be hanging. but my brudder he go to die with hawful bad cold queeck, an' he send for the priest an' for me, an' tell all. i go to governor with the priest, an' governor gif me dat writing here." he tapped his breast, then took out a wallet and showed the paper to her. "it is life of dat haman, voici! and so i safe him for my brudder. dat was a bad boy, fadette. he was bad all time since he was a baby, an' i t'ink him pretty lucky to die on his bed, an' get absolve, and go to purgatore. if he not have luck like dat he go to hell, an' stay there." he sighed, and put the wallet back in his breast carefully, his eyes half-shut with weariness, his handsome face drawn and thin, his limbs lax with fatigue. "if i get askatoon before de time for dat, i be happy in my heart, for dat brudder off mine he get out of purgatore bime-bye, i t'ink." his eyes were almost shut, but he drew himself together with a great effort, and added desperately, "no sleep. if i sleep it is all smash. man say me i can get askatoon by dat time from here, if i go queeck way across lak'--it is all froze now, dat lak'--an' down dat foxtail hills. is it so, ma'm'selle?" "by the 'quick' way if you can make it in time," she said; "but it is no way for the stranger to go. there are always bad spots on the ice--it is not safe. you could not find your way." "i mus' get dere in time," he said desperately. "you can't do it-alone," she said. "do you want to risk all and lose?" he frowned in self-suppression. "long way, i no can get dere in time?" he asked. she thought a moment. "no; it can't be done by the long way. but there is another way--a third trail, the trail the gover'ment men made a year ago when they came to survey. it is a good trail. it is blazed in the woods and staked on the plains. you cannot miss. but--but there is so little time." she looked at the clock on the wall. "you cannot leave here much before sunrise, and--" "i will leef when de moon rise, at eleven," he interjected. "you have had no sleep for two nights, and no food. you can't last it out," she said calmly. the deliberate look on his face deepened to stubbornness. "it is my vow to my brudder--he is in purgatore. an' i mus' do it," he rejoined, with an emphasis there was no mistaking. "you can show me dat way?" she went to a drawer and took out a piece of paper. then, with a point of blackened stick, as he watched her and listened, she swiftly drew his route for him. "yes, i get it in my head," he said. "i go dat way, but i wish--i wish it was dat queeck way. i have no fear, not'ing. i go w'en dat moon rise--i go, bien sur." "you must sleep, then, while i get some food for you." she pointed to a couch in a corner. "i will wake you when the moon rises." for the first time he seemed to realise her, for a moment to leave the thing which consumed him, and put his mind upon her. "you not happy--you not like me here?" he asked simply; then added quickly, "i am not bad man like me brudder--no." her eyes rested on him for a moment as though realising him, while some thought was working in her mind behind. "no, you are not a bad man," she said. "men and women are equal on the plains. you have no fear--i have no fear." he glanced at the rifles on the walls, then back at her. "my mudder, she was good woman. i am glad she did not lif to know what fadette do." his eyes drank her in for a minute, then he said: "i go sleep now, t'ank you --till moontime." in a moment his deep breathing filled the room, the only sound save for the fire within and the frost outside. time went on. the night deepened. ......................... loisette sat beside the fire, but her body was half-turned from it towards the man on the sofa. she was not agitated outwardly, but within there was that fire which burns up life and hope and all the things that come between us and great issues. it had burned up everything in her except one thought, one powerful motive. she had been deeply wronged, and justice had been about to give "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." but the man lying there had come to sweep away the scaffolding of justice--he had come for that. perhaps he might arrive at askatoon before the stroke of the hour, but still he would be too late, for in her pocket now was the governor's reprieve. the man had slept soundly. his wallet was still in his breast; but the reprieve was with her. if he left without discovering his loss, and got well on his way, and discovered it then, it would be too late. if he returned--she only saw one step before her, she would wait for that, and deal with it when it came. she was thinking of lucy, of her own lover ruined and gone. she was calm in her madness. at the first light of the moon she roused him. she had put food into his fur-coat pocket, and after he had drunk a bowl of hot pea-soup, while she told him his course again, she opened the door, and he passed out into the night. he started forward without a word, but came back again and caught her hand. "pardon," he said; "i go forget everyt'ing except dat. but i t'ink what you do for me, it is better than all my life. bien sur, i will come again, when i get my mind to myself. ah, but you are beautibul," he said, "an' you not happy. well, i come again--yes, a dieu." he was gone into the night, with the moon silvering the sky, and the steely frost eating into the sentient life of this northern world. inside the house, with the bearskin blind dropped at the window again, and the fire blazing high, loisette sat with the governor's reprieve in her hand. looking at it, she wondered why it had been given to ba'tiste caron, and not to a police-officer. ah yes, it was plain--ba'tiste was a woodsman and plainsman, and could go far more safely than a constable, and faster. ba'tiste had reason for going fast, and he would travel night and day--he was travelling night and day indeed. and now ba'tiste might get there, but the reprieve would not. he would not be able to stop the hanging of haman--the hanging of rube haman. a change came over her. her eyes blazed, her breast heaved now. she had been so quiet, so cold and still. but life seemed moving in her once again. the woman, kate wimper, who had helped to send two people to their graves, would now drink the dregs of shame, if she was capable of shame--would be robbed of her happiness, if so be she loved rube haman. she stood up, as though to put the paper in the fire, but paused suddenly at one thought--rube haman was innocent of murder. even so, he was not innocent of lucy's misery and death, of the death of the little one who only opened its eyes to the light for an instant, and then went into the dark again. but truly she was justified! when haman was gone things would go on just the same--and she had been so bitter, her heart had been pierced as with a knife these past three years. again she held out her hand to the fire, but suddenly she gave a little cry and put her hand to her head. there was ba'tiste! what was ba'tiste to her? nothing-nothing at all. she had saved his life--even if she wronged ba'tiste, her debt would be paid. no, she would not think of ba'tiste. yet she did not put the paper in the fire, but in the pocket of her dress. then she went to her room, leaving the door open. the bed was opposite the fire, and, as she lay there--she did not take off her clothes, she knew not why-she could see the flames. she closed her eyes, but could not sleep, and more than once when she opened them she thought she saw ba'tiste sitting there as he had sat hours before. why did ba'tiste haunt her so? what was it he had said in his broken english as he went away?--that he would come back; that she was "beautibul." all at once as she lay still, her head throbbing, her feet and hands icy cold, she sat up listening. "ah-again!" she cried. she sprang from her bed, rushed to the door, and strained her eyes into the silver night. she called into the icy void, "qui va la? who goes?" she leaned forwards, her hand at her ear, but no sound came in reply. once more she called, but nothing answered. the night was all light and frost and silence. she had only heard, in her own brain, the iteration of ba'tiste's calling. would he reach askatoon in time, she wondered, as she shut the door? why had she not gone with him and attempted the shorter way the quick way, he had called it? all at once the truth came back upon her, stirring her now. it would do no good for ba'tiste to arrive in time. he might plead to them all and tell the truth about the reprieve, but it would not avail--rube haman would hang. that did not matter--even though he was innocent; but ba'tiste's brother would be so long in purgatory. and even that would not matter; but she would hurt ba'tiste--ba'tiste-ba'tiste. and ba'tiste he would know that she--and he had called her "beautibul," that she had-with a cry she suddenly clothed herself for travel. she put some food and drink in a leather bag and slung them over her shoulder. then she dropped on a knee and wrote a note to her father, tears falling from her eyes. she heaped wood on the fire and moved towards the door. all at once she turned to the crucifix on the wall which had belonged to her mother, and, though she had followed her father's protestant religion, she kissed the feet of the sacred figure. "oh, christ, have mercy on me, and bring me safe to my journey's end-in time," she said breathlessly; then she went softly to the door, leaving the dog behind. it opened, closed, and the night swallowed her. like a ghost she sped the quick way to askatoon. she was six hours behind ba'tiste, and, going hard all the time, it was doubtful if she could get there before the fatal hour. on the trail ba'tiste had taken there were two huts where he could rest, and he had carried his blanket slung on his shoulder. the way she went gave no shelter save the trees and caves which had been used to cache buffalo meat and hides in old days. but beyond this there was danger in travelling by night, for the springs beneath the ice of the three lakes she must, cross made it weak and rotten even in the fiercest weather, and what would no doubt have been death to ba'tiste would be peril at least to her. why had she not gone with him? "he had in his face what was in lucy's," she said to herself, as she sped on. "she was fine like him, ready to break her heart for those she cared for. my, if she had seen him first instead of--" she stopped short, for the ice gave way to her foot, and she only sprang back in time to save herself. but she trotted on, mile after mile, the dog-trot of the indian, head bent forwards, toeing in, breathing steadily but sharply. the morning came, noon, then a fall of snow and a keen wind, and despair in her heart; but she had passed the danger-spots, and now, if the storm did not overwhelm her, she might get to askatoon in time. in the midst of the storm she came to one of the caves of which she had known. here was wood for a fire, and here she ate, and in weariness unspeakable fell asleep. when she waked it was near sun-down, the storm had ceased, and, as on the night before, the sky was stained with colour and drowned in splendour. "i will do it--i will do it, ba'tiste!" she called, and laughed aloud into the sunset. she had battled with herself all the way, and she had conquered. right was right, and rube haman must not be hung for what he did not do. her heart hardened whenever she thought of the woman, but softened again when she thought of ba'tiste, who had to suffer for the deed of a brother in "purgatore." once again the night and its silence and loneliness followed her, the only living thing near the trail till long after midnight. after that, as she knew, there were houses here and there where she might have rested, but she pushed on unceasing. at daybreak she fell in with a settler going to askatoon with his dogs. seeing how exhausted she was, he made her ride a few miles upon his sledge; then she sped on ahead again till she came to the borders of askatoon. people were already in the streets, and all were tending one way. she stopped and asked the time. it was within a quarter of an hour of the time when haman was to pay another's penalty. she spurred herself on, and came to the jail blind with fatigue. as she neared the jail she saw her father and mickey. in amazement her father hailed her, but she would not stop. she was admitted to the prison on explaining that she had a reprieve. entering a room filled with excited people, she heard a cry. it came from ba'tiste. he had arrived but ten minutes before, and, in the sheriff's presence had discovered his loss. he had appealed in vain. but now, as he saw the girl, he gave a shout of joy which pierced the hearts of all. "ah, you haf it! say you haf it, or it is no use--he mus' hang. spikspik! ah, my brudder--it is to do him right! ah, loisette--bon dieu, merci!" for answer she placed the reprieve in the hands of the sheriff. then she swayed and fell fainting at the feet of ba'tiste. she had come at the stroke of the hour. when she left for her home again the sheriff kissed her. and that was not the only time he kissed her. he did it again six months later, at the beginning of the harvest, when she and ba'tiste caron started off on the long trail of life together. none but ba'tiste knew the truth about the loss of the reprieve, and to him she was "beautibul" just the same, and greatly to be desired. buckmaster's boy "i bin waitin' for him, an' i'll git him of it takes all winter. i'll git him--plumb." the speaker smoothed the barrel of his rifle with mittened hand, which had, however, a trigger-finger free. with black eyebrows twitching over sunken grey eyes, he looked doggedly down the frosty valley from the ledge of high rock where he sat. the face was rough and weather-beaten, with the deep tan got in the open life of a land of much sun and little cloud, and he had a beard which, untrimmed and growing wild, made him look ten years older than he was. "i bin waitin' a durn while," the mountain-man added, and got to his feet slowly, drawing himself out to six and a half feet of burly manhood. the shoulders were, however, a little stooped, and the head was thrust forwards with an eager, watchful look--a habit become a physical characteristic. presently he caught sight of a hawk sailing southward along the peaks of the white icebound mountains above, on which the sun shone with such sharp insistence, making sky and mountain of a piece in deep purity and serene stillness. "that hawk's seen him, mebbe," he said, after a moment. "i bet it went up higher when it got him in its eye. ef it'd only speak and tell me where he is--ef he's a day, or two days, or ten days north." suddenly his eyes blazed and his mouth opened in superstitious amazement, for the hawk stopped almost directly overhead at a great height, and swept round in a circle many times, waveringly, uncertainly. at last it resumed its flight southward, sliding down the mountains like a winged star. the mountaineer watched it with a dazed expression for a moment longer, then both hands clutched the rifle and half swung it to position involuntarily. "it's seen him, and it stopped to say so. it's seen him, i tell you, an' i'll git him. ef it's an hour, or a day, or a week, it's all the same. i'm here watchin', waitin' dead on to him, the poison skunk!" the person to whom he had been speaking now rose from the pile of cedar boughs where he had been sitting, stretched his arms up, then shook himself into place, as does a dog after sleep. he stood for a minute looking at the mountaineer with a reflective, yet a furtively sardonic, look. he was not above five feet nine inches in height, and he was slim and neat; and though his buckskin coat and breeches were worn and even frayed in spots, he had an air of some distinction and of concentrated force. it was a face that men turned to look at twice and shook their heads in doubt afterwards--a handsome, worn, secretive face, in as perfect control as the strings of an instrument under the bow of a great artist. it was the face of a man without purpose in life beyond the moment--watchful, careful, remorselessly determined, an adventurer's asset, the dial-plate of a hidden machinery. now he took the handsome meerschaum pipe from his mouth, from which he had been puffing smoke slowly, and said in a cold, yet quiet voice, "how long you been waitin', buck?" "a month. he's overdue near that. he always comes down to winter at fort o' comfort, with his string of half-breeds, an' injuns, an' the dogs." "no chance to get him at the fort?" "it ain't so certain. they'd guess what i was doin' there. it's surer here. he's got to come down the trail, an' when i spot him by the juniper clump"--he jerked an arm towards a spot almost a mile farther up the valley--"i kin scoot up the underbrush a bit and git him--plumb. i could do it from here, sure, but i don't want no mistake. once only, jest one shot, that's all i want, sinnet." he bit off a small piece of tobacco from a black plug sinnet offered him, and chewed it with nervous fierceness, his eyebrows working, as he looked at the other eagerly. deadly as his purpose was, and grim and unvarying as his vigil had been, the loneliness had told on him, and he had grown hungry for a human face and human companionship. why sinnet had come he had not thought to inquire. why sinnet should be going north instead of south had not occurred to him. he only realised that sinnet was not the man he was waiting for with murder in his heart; and all that mattered to him in life was the coming of his victim down the trail. he had welcomed sinnet with a sullen eagerness, and had told him in short, detached sentences the dark story of a wrong and a waiting revenge, which brought a slight flush to sinnet's pale face and awakened a curious light in his eyes. "is that your shack--that where you shake down?" sinnet said, pointing towards a lean-to in the fir trees to the right. "that's it. i sleep there. it's straight on to the juniper clump, the front door is." he laughed viciously, grimly. "outside or inside, i'm on to the juniper clump. walk into the parlour?" he added, and drew open a rough-made door, so covered with green cedar boughs that it seemed of a piece with the surrounding underbrush and trees. indeed, the little but was so constructed that it could not be distinguished from the woods even a short distance away. "can't have a fire, i suppose?" sinnet asked. "not daytimes. smoke 'd give me away if he suspicioned me," answered the mountaineer. "i don't take no chances. never can tell." "water?" asked sinnet, as though interested in the surroundings, while all the time he was eyeing the mountaineer furtively--as it were, prying to the inner man, or measuring the strength of the outer man. he lighted a fresh pipe and seated himself on a rough bench beside the table in the middle of the room, and leaned on his elbows, watching. the mountaineer laughed. it was not a pleasant laugh to hear. "listen," he said. "you bin a long time out west. you bin in the mountains a good while. listen." there was silence. sinnet listened intently. he heard the faint drip, drip, drip of water, and looked steadily at the back wall of the room. "there--rock?" he said, and jerked his head towards the sound. "you got good ears," answered the other, and drew aside a blanket which hung on the back wall of the room. a wooden trough was disclosed hanging under a ledge of rock, and water dripped into it softly, slowly. "almost providential, that rock," remarked sinnet. "you've got your well at your back door. food--but you can't go far, and keep your eye on the bend too," he nodded towards the door, beyond which lay the frost-touched valley in the early morning light of autumn. "plenty of black squirrels and pigeons come here on account of the springs like this one, and i get 'em with a bow and arrow. i didn't call myself robin hood and daniel boone not for nothin' when i was knee-high to a grasshopper." he drew from a rough cupboard some cold game, and put it on the table, with some scones and a pannikin of water. then he brought out a small jug of whiskey and placed it beside his visitor. they began to eat. "how d'ye cook without fire?" asked sinnet. "fire's all right at nights. he'd never camp 'twixt here an' juniper bend at night. the next camp's six miles north from here. he'd only come down the valley daytimes. i studied it 'all out, and it's a dead sure thing. from daylight till dusk i'm on to him. i got the trail in my eye." he showed his teeth like a wild dog, as his look swept the valley. there was something almost revolting in his concentrated ferocity. sinnet's eyes half closed as he watched the mountaineer, and the long, scraggy hands and whipcord neck seemed to interest him greatly. he looked at his own slim brown hands with a half smile, and it was almost as cruel as the laugh of the other. yet it had, too, a knowledge and an understanding which gave it humanity. "you're sure he did it?" sinnet asked presently, after drinking a very small portion of liquor, and tossing some water from the pannikin after it. "you're sure greevy killed your boy, buck?" "my name's buckmaster, ain't it--jim buckmaster? don't i know my own name? it's as sure as that. my boy said it was greevy when he was dying. he told bill ricketts so, and bill told me afore he went east. bill didn't want to tell, but he said it was fair i should know, for my boy never did nobody any harm--an' greevy's livin' on. but i'll git him. right's right." "wouldn't it be better for the law to hang him, if you've got the proof, buck? a year or so in jail, an' a long time to think over what's going round his neck on the scaffold--wouldn't that suit you, if you've got the proof?" a rigid, savage look came into buckmaster's face. "i ain't lettin' no judge and jury do my business. i'm for certain sure, not for p'r'aps! an' i want to do it myself. clint was only twenty. like boys we was together. i was eighteen when i married, an' he come when she went--jest a year--jest a year. an' ever since then we lived together, him an' me, an' shot together, an' trapped together, an' went gold-washin' together on the cariboo, an' eat out of the same dish, an' slept under the same blanket, and jawed together nights--ever since he was five, when old mother lablache had got him into pants, an' he was fit to take the trail." the old man stopped a minute, his whipcord neck swelling, his lips twitching. he brought a fist down on the table with a bang. "the biggest little rip he was, as full of fun as a squirrel, an' never a smile-o-jest his eyes dancin', an' more sense than a judge. he laid hold o' me, that cub did--it was like his mother and himself together; an' the years flowin' in an' peterin' out, an' him gettin' older, an' always jest the same. always on rock-bottom, always bright as a dollar, an' we livin' at black nose lake, layin' up cash agin' the time we was to go south, an' set up a house along the railway, an' him to git married. i was for his gittin' married same as me, when we had enough cash. i use to think of that when he was ten, and when he was eighteen i spoke to him about it; but he wouldn't listen--jest laughed at me. you remember how clint used to laugh sort of low and teasin' like--you remember that laugh o' clint's, don't you?" sinnet's face was towards the valley and juniper bend, but he slowly turned his head and looked at buckmaster strangely out of his half-shut eyes. he took the pipe from his mouth slowly. "i can hear it now," he answered slowly. "i hear it often, buck." the old man gripped his arm so suddenly that sinnet was startled,--in so far as anything could startle anyone who had lived a life of chance and danger and accident, and his face grew a shade paler; but he did not move, and buckmaster's hand tightened convulsively. "you liked him, an' he liked you; he first learnt poker off you, sinnet. he thought you was a tough, but he didn't mind that no more than i did. it ain't for us to say what we're goin' to be, not always. things in life git stronger than we are. you was a tough, but who's goin' to judge you! i ain't; for clint took to you, sinnet, an' he never went wrong in his thinkin'. god! he was wife an' child to me--an' he's dead--dead-dead." the man's grief was a painful thing to see. his hands gripped the table, while his body shook with sobs, though his eyes gave forth no tears. it was an inward convulsion, which gave his face the look of unrelieved tragedy and suffering--laocoon struggling with the serpents of sorrow and hatred which were strangling him. "dead an' gone," he repeated, as he swayed to and fro, and the table quivered in his grasp. presently, however, as though arrested by a thought, he peered out of the doorway towards juniper bend. "that hawk seen him--it seen him. he's comin', i know it, an' i'll git him--plumb." he had the mystery and imagination of the mountain-dweller. the rifle lay against the wall behind him, and he turned and touched it almost caressingly. "i ain't let go like this since he was killed, sinnet. it don't do. i got to keep myself stiddy to do the trick when the minute comes. at first i usen't to sleep at nights, thinkin' of clint, an' missin' him, an' i got shaky and no good. so i put a cinch on myself, an' got to sleepin' again--from the full dusk to dawn, for greevy wouldn't take the trail at night. i've kept stiddy." he held out his hand as though to show that it was firm and steady, but it trembled with the emotion which had conquered him. he saw it, and shook his head angrily. "it was seein' you, sinnet. it burst me. i ain't seen no one to speak to in a month, an' with you sittin' there, it was like clint an' me cuttin' and comin' again off the loaf an' the knuckle-bone of ven'son." sinnet ran a long finger slowly across his lips, and seemed meditating what he should say to the mountaineer. at length he spoke, looking into buckmaster's face. "what was the story ricketts told you? what did your boy tell ricketts? i've heard, too, about it, and that's why i asked you if you had proofs that greevy killed clint. of course, clint should know, and if he told ricketts, that's pretty straight; but i'd like to know if what i heard tallies with what ricketts heard from clint. p'r'aps it'd ease your mind a bit to tell it. i'll watch the bend--don't you trouble about that. you can't do these two things at one time. i'll watch for greevy; you give me clint's story to ricketts. i guess you know i'm feelin' for you, an' if i was in your place i'd shoot the man that killed clint, if it took ten years. i'd have his heart's blood--all of it. whether greevy was in the right or in the wrong, i'd have him-plumb." buckmaster was moved. he gave a fierce exclamation and made a gesture of cruelty. "clint right or wrong? there ain't no question of that. my boy wasn't the kind to be in the wrong. what did he ever do but what was right? if clint was in the wrong i'd kill greevy jest the same, for greevy robbed him of all the years that was before him--only a sapling he was, an' all his growin' to do, all his branches to widen an' his roots to spread. but that don't enter in it, his bein' in the wrong. it was a quarrel, and clint never did greevy any harm. it was a quarrel over cards, an' greevy was drunk, an' followed clint out into the prairie in the night and shot him like a coyote. clint hadn't no chance, an' he jest lay there on the ground till morning, when ricketts and steve joicey found him. an' clint told ricketts who it was." "why didn't ricketts tell it right out at once?" asked sinnet. "greevy was his own cousin--it was in the family, an' he kept thinkin' of greevy's gal, em'ly. her--what'll it matter to her! she'll get married, an she'll forgit. i know her, a gal that's got no deep feelin' like clint had for me. but because of her ricketts didn't speak for a year. then he couldn't stand it any longer, an' he told me--seein' how i suffered, an' everybody hidin' their suspicions from me, an' me up here out o' the way, an' no account. that was the feelin' among 'em--what was the good of making things worse! they wasn't thinkin' of the boy or of jim buckmaster, his father. they was thinkin' of greevy's gal--to save her trouble." sinnet's face was turned towards juniper bend, and the eyes were fixed, as it were, on a still more distant object--a dark, brooding, inscrutable look. "was that all ricketts told you, buck?" the voice was very quiet, but it had a suggestive note. "that's all clint told bill before he died. that was enough." there was a moment's pause, and then, puffing out long clouds of smoke, and in a tone of curious detachment, as though he were telling of something that he saw now in the far distance, or as a spectator of a battle from a far vantage-point might report to a blind man standing near, sinnet said: "p'r'aps ricketts didn't know the whole story; p'r'aps clint didn't know it all to tell him; p'r'aps clint didn't remember it all. p'r'aps he didn't remember anything except that he and greevy quarrelled, and that greevy and he shot at each other in the prairie. he'd only be thinking of the thing that mattered most to him--that his life was over, an' that a man had put a bullet in him, an'--" buckmaster tried to interrupt him, but he waved a hand impatiently, and continued: "as i say, maybe he didn't remember everything; he had been drinkin' a bit himself, clint had. he wasn't used to liquor, and couldn't stand much. greevy was drunk, too, and gone off his head with rage. he always gets drunk when he first comes south to spend the winter with his girl em'ly." he paused a moment, then went on a little more quickly. "greevy was proud of her--couldn't even bear her being crossed in any way; and she has a quick temper, and if she quarrelled with anybody greevy quarrelled too." "i don't want to know anything about her," broke in buckmaster roughly. "she isn't in this thing. i'm goin' to git greevy. i bin waitin' for him, an' i'll git him." "you're going to kill the man that killed your boy, if you can, buck; but i'm telling my story in my own way. you told ricketts's story; i'll tell what i've heard. and before you kill greevy you ought to know all there is that anybody else knows--or suspicions about it." "i know enough. greevy done it, an' i'm here." with no apparent coherence and relevancy sinnet continued, but his voice was not so even as before. "em'ly was a girl that wasn't twice alike. she was changeable. first it was one, then it was another, and she didn't seem to be able to fix her mind. but that didn't prevent her leadin' men on. she wasn't changeable, though, about her father. she was to him what your boy was to you. there she was like you, ready to give everything up for her father." "i tell y' i don't want to hear about her," said buckmaster, getting to his feet and setting his jaws. "you needn't talk to me about her. she'll git over it. i'll never git over what greevy done to me or to clint--jest twenty, jest twenty! i got my work to do." he took his gun from the wall, slung it into the hollow of his arm, and turned to look up the valley through the open doorway. the morning was sparkling with life--the life and vigour which a touch of frost gives to the autumn world in a country where the blood tingles to the dry, sweet sting of the air. beautiful, and spacious, and buoyant, and lonely, the valley and the mountains seemed waiting, like a new-born world, to be peopled by man. it was as though all had been made ready for him--the birds whistling and singing in the trees, the whisk of the squirrels leaping from bough to bough, the peremptory sound of the woodpecker's beak against the bole of a tree, the rustle of the leaves as a wood-hen ran past--a waiting, virgin world. its beauty and its wonderful dignity had no appeal to buckmaster. his eyes and mind were fixed on a deed which would stain the virgin wild with the ancient crime that sent the first marauder on human life into the wilderness. as buckmaster's figure darkened the doorway sinnet seemed to waken as from a dream, and he got swiftly to his feet. "wait--you wait, buck. you've got to hear all. you haven't heard my story yet. wait, i tell you." his voice was so sharp and insistent, so changed, that buckmaster turned from the doorway and came back into the room. "what's the use of my hearin'? you want me not to kill greevy, because of that gal. what's she to me?" "nothing to you, buck, but clint was everything to her." the mountaineer stood like one petrified. "what's that--what's that you say? it's a damn lie!" "it wasn't cards--the quarrel, not the real quarrel. greevy found clint kissing her. greevy wanted her to marry gatineau, the lumber-king. that was the quarrel." a snarl was on the face of buckmaster. "then she'll not be sorry when i git him. it took clint from her as well as from me." he turned to the door again. "but, wait, buck, wait one minute and hear--" he was interrupted by a low, exultant growl, and he saw buckmaster's rifle clutched as a hunter, stooping, clutches his gun to fire on his prey. "quick, the spy-glass!" he flung back at sinnet. "it's him--but i'll make sure." sinnet caught the telescope from the nails where it hung, and looked out towards juniper bend. "it's greevy--and his girl, and the half-breeds," he said, with a note in his voice that almost seemed agitation, and yet few had ever seen sinnet agitated. "em'ly must have gone up the trail in the night." "it's my turn now," the mountaineer said hoarsely, and, stooping, slid away quickly into the undergrowth. sinnet followed, keeping near him, neither speaking. for a half mile they hastened on, and now and then buckmaster drew aside the bushes, and looked up the valley, to keep greevy and his bois brulees in his eye. just so had he and his son and sinnet stalked the wapiti and the red deer along these mountains; but this was a man that buckmaster was stalking now, with none of the joy of the sport which had been his since a lad; only the malice of the avenger. the lust of a mountain feud was on him; he was pursuing the price of blood. at last buckmaster stopped at a ledge of rock just above the trail. greevy would pass below, within three hundred yards of his rifle. he turned to sinnet with cold and savage eyes. "you go back," he said. "it's my business. i don't want you to see. you don't want to see, then you won't know, and you won't need to lie. you said that the man that killed clint ought to die. he's going to die, but it's none o' your business. i want to be alone. in a minute he'll be where i kin git him --plumb. you go, sinnet-right off. it's my business." there was a strange, desperate look in sinnet's face; it was as hard as stone, but his eyes had a light of battle in them. "it's my business right enough, buck," he said, "and you're not going to kill greevy. that girl of his has lost her lover, your boy. it's broke her heart almost, and there's no use making her an orphan too. she can't stand it. she's had enough. you leave her father alone--you hear me, let up!" he stepped between buckmaster and the ledge of rock from which the mountaineer was to take aim. there was a terrible look in buckmaster's face. he raised his singlebarrelled rifle, as though he would shoot sinnet; but, at the moment, he remembered that a shot would warn greevy, and that he might not have time to reload. he laid his rifle against a tree swiftly. "git away from here," he said, with a strange rattle in his throat. "git away quick; he'll be down past here in a minute." sinnet pulled himself together as he saw buckmaster snatch at a great clasp-knife in his belt. he jumped and caught buckmaster's wrist in a grip like a vice. "greevy didn't kill him, buck," he said. but the mountaineer was gone mad, and did not grasp the meaning of the words. he twined his left arm round the neck of sinnet, and the struggle began, he fighting to free sinnet's hand from his wrist, to break sinnet's neck. he did not realise what he was doing. he only knew that this man stood between him and the murderer of his boy, and all the ancient forces of barbarism were alive in him. little by little they drew to the edge of the rock, from which there was a sheer drop of two hundred feet. sinnet fought like a panther for safety, but no sane man's strength could withstand the demoniacal energy that bent and crushed him. sinnet felt his strength giving. then he said in a hoarse whisper, "greevy didn't kill him. i killed him, and--" at that moment he was borne to the ground with a hand on his throat, and an instant after the knife went home. buckmaster got to his feet and looked at his victim for an instant, dazed and wild; then he sprang for his gun. as he did so the words that sinnet had said as they struggled rang in his ears, "greevy didn't kill him; i killed him!" he gave a low cry and turned back towards sinnet, who lay in a pool of blood. sinnet was speaking. he went and stooped over him. "em'ly threw me over for clint," the voice said huskily, "and i followed to have it out with clint. so did greevy, but greevy was drunk. i saw them meet. i was hid. i saw that clint would kill greevy, and i fired. i was off my head--i'd never cared for any woman before, and greevy was her father. clint was off his head too. he had called me names that day--a cardsharp, and a liar, and a thief, and a skunk, he called me, and i hated him just then. greevy fired twice wide. he didn't know but what he killed clint, but he didn't. i did. so i tried to stop you, buck--" life was going fast, and speech failed him; but he opened his eyes again and whispered, "i didn't want to die, buck. i am only thirty-five, and it's too soon; but it had to be. don't look that way, buck. you got the man that killed him--plumb. but em'ly didn't play fair with me--made a fool of me, the only time in my life i ever cared for a woman. you leave greevy alone, buck, and tell em'ly for me i wouldn't let you kill her father." "you--sinnet--you, you done it! why, he'd have fought for you. you-done it--to him--to clint!" now that the blood-feud had been satisfied, a great change came over the mountaineer. he had done his work, and the thirst for vengeance was gone. greevy he had hated, but this man had been with him in many a winter's hunt. his brain could hardly grasp the tragedy--it had all been too sudden. suddenly he stooped down. "sinnet," he said, "ef there was a woman in it, that makes all the difference. sinnet, of--" but sinnet was gone upon a long trail that led into an illimitable wilderness. with a moan the old man ran to the ledge of rock. greevy and his girl were below. "when there's a woman in it--!" he said, in a voice of helplessness and misery, and watched em'ly till she disappeared from view. then he turned, and, lifting up in his arms the man he had killed, carried him into the deeper woods. etext editor's bookmarks: even bad company's better than no company at all future of those who will not see, because to see is to suffer i like when i like, and i like a lot when i like it ain't for us to say what we're goin' to be, not always things in life git stronger than we are we don't live in months and years, but just in minutes this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] northern lights by gilbert parker volume 4. a man, a famine, and a heathen boy the healing springs and the pioneers the little widow of jansen watching the rise of orion a man, a famine, and a heathen boy athabasca in the far north is the scene of this story--athabasca, one of the most beautiful countries in the world in summer, but a cold, bare land in winter. yet even in winter it is not so bleak and bitter as the districts south-west of it, for the chinook winds steal through from the pacific and temper the fierceness of the frozen rockies. yet forty and fifty degrees below zero is cold after all, and july strawberries in this wild north land are hardly compensation for seven months of ice and snow, no matter how clear and blue the sky, how sweet the sun during its short journey in the day. some days, too, the sun may not be seen even when there is no storm, because of the fine, white, powdered frost in the air. a day like this is called a poudre day; and woe to the man who tempts it unthinkingly, because the light makes the delicate mist of frost shine like silver. for that powder bites the skin white in short order, and sometimes reckless men lose ears, or noses, or hands under its sharp caress. but when it really storms in that far north, then neither man nor beast should be abroad--not even the eskimo dogs; though times and seasons can scarcely be chosen when travelling in athabasca, for a storm comes unawares. upon the plains you will see a cloud arising, not in the sky, but from the ground--a billowy surf of drifting snow; then another white billow from the sky will sweep down and meet it, and you are caught between. he who went to athabasca to live a generation ago had to ask himself if the long winter, spent chiefly indoors, with, maybe, a little trading with the indians, meagre sport, and scant sun, savages and half-breeds the only companions, and out of all touch with the outside world, letters coming but once a year; with frozen fish and meat, always the same, as the staple items in a primitive fare; with danger from starvation and marauding tribes; with endless monotony, in which men sometimes go mad-he had to ask himself if these were to be cheerfully endured because, in the short summer, the air is heavenly, the rivers and lakes are full of fish, the flotilla of canoes of the fur-hunters is pouring down, and all is gaiety and pleasant turmoil; because there is good shooting in the autumn, and the smell of the land is like a garden, and hardy fruits and flowers are at hand. that is a question which was asked william rufus holly once upon a time. william rufus holly, often called "averdoopoy," sometimes "sleeping beauty," always billy rufus, had had a good education. he had been to high school and to college, and he had taken one or two prizes en route to graduation; but no fame travelled with him, save that he was the laziest man of any college year for a decade. he loved his little porringer, which is to say that he ate a good deal; and he loved to read books, which is not to say that he loved study; he hated getting out of bed, and he was constantly gated for morning chapel. more than once he had sweetly gone to sleep over his examination papers. this is not to say that he failed at his examinations--on the contrary, he always succeeded; but he only did enough to pass and no more; and he did not wish to do more than pass. his going to sleep at examinations was evidence that he was either indifferent or self-indulgent, and it certainly showed that he was without nervousness. he invariably roused himself, or his professor roused him, a half-hour before the papers should be handed in, and, as it were by a mathematical calculation, he had always done just enough to prevent him being plucked. he slept at lectures, he slept in hall, he slept as he waited his turn to go to the wicket in a cricket match, and he invariably went to sleep afterwards. he even did so on the day he had made the biggest score, in the biggest game ever played between his college and the pick of the country; but he first gorged himself with cake and tea. the day he took his degree he had to be dragged from a huge grandfather's chair, and forced along in his ragged gown--"ten holes and twelve tatters"--to the function in the convocation hall. he looked so fat and shiny, so balmy and sleepy when he took his degree and was handed his prize for a poem on sir john franklin, that the public laughed, and the college men in the gallery began singing: "bye o, my baby, father will come to you soo-oon!" he seemed not to care, but yawned in his hand as he put his prize book under his arm through one of the holes in his gown, and in two minutes was back in his room, and in another five was fast asleep. it was the general opinion that william rufus holly, fat, yellow-haired, and twenty-four years old, was doomed to failure in life, in spite of the fact that he had a little income of a thousand dollars a year, and had made a century in an important game of cricket. great, therefore, was the surprise of the college, and afterward of the province, when, at the farewell dinner of the graduates, sleeping beauty announced, between his little open-eyed naps, that he was going far north as a missionary. at first it was thought he was joking, but when at last, in his calm and dreamy look, they saw he meant what he said, they rose and carried him round the room on a chair, making impromptu songs as they travelled. they toasted billy rufus again and again, some of them laughing till they cried at the thought of averdoopoy going to the arctic regions. but an uneasy seriousness fell upon these "beautiful, bountiful, brilliant boys," as holly called them later, when in a simple, honest, but indolent speech he said he had applied for ordination. six months later william rufus holly, a deacon in holy orders, journeyed to athabasca in the far north. on his long journey there was plenty of time to think. he was embarked on a career which must for ever keep him in the wilds; for very seldom indeed does a missionary of the north ever return to the crowded cities or take a permanent part in civilised life. what the loneliness of it would be he began to feel, as for hours and hours he saw no human being on the plains; in the thrilling stillness of the night; in fierce storms in the woods, when his half-breed guides bent their heads to meet the wind and rain, and did not speak for hours; in the long, adventurous journey on the river by day, in the cry of the plaintive loon at night; in the scant food for every meal. yet what the pleasure would be he felt in the joyous air, the exquisite sunshine, the flocks of wild-fowl flying north, honking on their course; in the song of the half-breeds as they ran the rapids. of course, he did not think these things quite as they are written here--all at once and all together; but in little pieces from time to time, feeling them rather than saying them to himself. at least he did understand how serious a thing it was, his going as a missionary into the far north. why did he do it? was it a whim, or the excited imagination of youth, or that prompting which the young often have to make the world better? or was it a fine spirit of adventure with a good heart behind it? perhaps it was a little of all these; but there was also something more, and it was to his credit. lazy as william rufus holly had been at school and college, he had still thought a good deal, even when he seemed only sleeping; perhaps he thought more because he slept so much, because he studied little and read a great deal. he always knew what everybody thought--that he would never do anything but play cricket till he got too heavy to run, and then would sink into a slothful, fat, and useless middle and old age; that his life would be a failure. and he knew that they were right; that if he stayed where he could live an easy life, a fat and easy life he would lead; that in a few years he would be good for nothing except to eat and sleep--no more. one day, waking suddenly from a bad dream of himself so fat as to be drawn about on a dray by monstrous fat oxen with rings through their noses, led by monkeys, he began to wonder what he should do--the hardest thing to do; for only the hardest life could possibly save him from failure, and, in spite of all, he really did want to make something of his life. he had been reading the story of sir john franklin's arctic expedition, and all at once it came home to him that the only thing for him to do was to go to the far north and stay there, coming back about once every ten years to tell the people in the cities what was being done in the wilds. then there came the inspiration to write his poem on sir john franklin, and he had done so, winning the college prize for poetry. but no one had seen any change in him in those months; and, indeed, there had been little or no change, for he had an equable and practical, though imaginative, disposition, despite his avoirdupois, and his new purpose did not stir him yet from his comfortable sloth. and in all the journey west and north he had not been stirred greatly from his ease of body, for the journey was not much harder than playing cricket every day, and there were only the thrill of the beautiful air, the new people, and the new scenes to rouse him. as yet there was no great responsibility. he scarcely realised what his life must be, until one particular day. then sleeping beauty waked wide up, and from that day lost the name. till then he had looked and borne himself like any other traveller, unrecognised as a parson or "mikonaree." he had not had prayers in camp en route, he had not preached, he had held no meetings. he was as yet william rufus holly, the cricketer, the laziest dreamer of a college decade. his religion was simple and practical; he had never had any morbid ideas; he had lived a healthy, natural, and honourable life, until he went for a mikonaree, and if he had no cant, he had not a clear idea of how many-sided, how responsible, his life must be--until that one particular day. this is what happened then. from fort o'call, an abandoned post of the hudson's bay company on the peace river, nearly the whole tribe of the athabasca indians in possession of the post now had come up the river, with their chief, knife-in-the-wind, to meet the mikonaree. factors of the hudson's bay company, coureurs de bois, and voyageurs had come among them at times, and once the renowned father lacombe, the jesuit priest, had stayed with them three months; but never to this day had they seen a protestant mikonaree, though once a factor, noted for his furious temper, his powers of running, and his generosity, had preached to them. these men, however, were both over fifty years old. the athabascas did not hunger for the christian religion, but a courier from edmonton had brought them word that a mikonaree was coming to their country to stay, and they put off their stoical manner and allowed themselves the luxury of curiosity. that was why even the squaws and papooses came up the river with the braves, all wondering if the stranger had brought gifts with him, all eager for their shares; for it had been said by the courier of the tribe that "oshondonto," their name for the newcomer, was bringing mysterious loads of well-wrapped bales and skins. upon a point below the first rapids of the little manitou they waited with their camp-fires burning and their pipe of peace. when the canoes bearing oshondonto and his voyageurs shot the rapids to the song of the river, "en roulant, ma boule roulant, en roulant, ma boule!" with the shrill voices of the boatmen rising to meet the cry of the startled water-fowl, the athabascas crowded to the high banks. they grunted "how!" in greeting, as the foremost canoe made for the shore. but if surprise could have changed the countenances of indians, these athabascas would not have known one another when the missionary stepped out upon the shore. they had looked to see a grey-bearded man like the chief factor who quarrelled and prayed; but they found instead a roundfaced, clean-shaven youth, with big, good-natured eyes, yellow hair, and a roundness of body like that of a month-old bear's cub. they expected to find a man who, like the factor, could speak their language, and they found a cherub sort of youth who talked only english, french, and chinook--that common language of the north--and a few words of their own language which he had learned on the way. besides, oshondonto was so absent-minded at the moment, so absorbed in admiration of the garish scene before him, that he addressed the chief in french, of which knife-in-the-wind knew but the one word cache, which all the north knows. but presently william rufus holly recovered himself, and in stumbling chinook made himself understood. opening a bale, he brought out beads and tobacco and some bright red flannel, and two hundred indians sat round him and grunted "how!" and received his gifts with little comment. then the pipe of peace went round, and oshondonto smoked it becomingly. but he saw that the indians despised him for his youth, his fatness, his yellow hair as soft as a girl's, his cherub face, browned though it was by the sun and weather. as he handed the pipe to knife-in-the-wind, an indian called silver tassel, with a cruel face, said grimly: "why does oshondonto travel to us?" william rufus holly's eyes steadied on those of the indian as he replied in chinook: "to teach the way to manitou the mighty, to tell the athabascas of the great chief who died to save the world." "the story is told in many ways; which is right? there was the factor, word of thunder. there is the song they sing at edmonton--i have heard." "the great chief is the same chief," answered the missionary. "if you tell of fort o'call, and knife-in-the-wind tells of fort o'call, he and you will speak different words, and one will put in one thing and one will leave out another; men's tongues are different. but fort o'call is the-same, and the great chief is the same." "it was a long time ago," said knife-in-the-wind sourly, "many thousand moons, as the pebbles in the river, the years." "it is the same world, and it is the same chief, and it was to save us," answered william rufus holly, smiling, yet with a fluttering heart, for the first test of his life had come. in anger knife-in-the-wind thrust an arrow into the ground and said: "how can the white man who died thousands of moons ago in a far country save the red man to-day?" "a strong man should bear so weak a tale," broke in silver tassel ruthlessly. "are we children that the great chief sends a child as messenger?" for a moment billy rufus did not know how to reply, and in the pause knife-in-the-wind broke in two pieces the arrow he had thrust in the ground in token of displeasure. suddenly, as oshondonto was about to speak, silver tassel sprang to his feet, seized in his arms a lad of twelve who was standing near, and running to the bank, dropped him into the swift current. "if oshondonto be not a child, let him save the lad," said silver tassel, standing on the brink. instantly william rufus holly was on his feet. his coat was off before silver tassel's words were out of his mouth, and crying, "in the name of the great white chief!" he jumped into the rushing current. "in the name of your manitou, come on, silver tassel!" he called up from the water, and struck out for the lad. not pausing an instant, silver tassel sprang into the flood, into the whirling eddies and dangerous current below the first rapids and above the second. then came the struggle for wingo of the cree tribe, a waif among the athabascas, whose father had been slain as they travelled, by a wandering tribe of blackfeet. never was there a braver rivalry, although the odds were with the indian-in lightness, in brutal strength. with the mikonaree, however, were skill, and that sort of strength which the world calls "moral," the strength of a good and desperate purpose. oshondonto knew that on the issue of this shameless business--this cruel sport of silver tassel--would depend his future on the peace river. as he shot forward with strong strokes in the whirling torrent after the helpless lad, who, only able to keep himself afloat, was being swept down towards the rapids below, he glanced up to the bank along which the athabascas were running. he saw the garish colours of their dresses; he saw the ignorant medicine man, with his mysterious bag, making incantations; he saw the tepee of the chief, with its barbarous pennant above; he saw the idle, naked children tearing at the entrails of a calf; and he realised that this was a deadly tournament between civilisation and barbarism. silver tassel was gaining on him, they were both overhauling the boy; it was now to see which should reach wingo first, which should take him to shore. that is, if both were not carried under before they reached him; that is, if, having reached him, they and he would ever get to shore; for, lower down, before it reached the rapids, the current ran horribly smooth and strong, and here and there were jagged rocks just beneath the surface. still silver tassel gained on him, as they both gained on the boy. oshondonto swam strong and hard, but he swam with his eye on the struggle for the shore also; he was not putting forth his utmost strength, for he knew it would be bitterly needed, perhaps to save his own life by a last effort. silver tassel passed him when they were about fifty feet from the boy. shooting by on his side, with a long stroke and the plunge of his body like a projectile, the dark face with the long black hair plastering it turned towards his own, in fierce triumph silver tassel cried "how!" in derision. billy rufus set his teeth and lay down to his work like a sportsman. his face had lost its roses, and it was set and determined, but there was no look of fear upon it, nor did his heart sink when a cry of triumph went up from the crowd on the banks. the white man knew by old experience in the cricket-field and in many a boat-race that it is well not to halloo till you are out of the woods. his mettle was up, he was not the reverend william rufus holly, missionary, but billy rufus, the champion cricketer, the sportsman playing a long game. silver tassel reached the boy, who was bruised and bleeding and at his last gasp, and throwing an arm round him, struck out for the shore. the current was very strong, and he battled fiercely as billy rufus, not far above, moved down toward them at an angle. for a few yards silver tassel was going strong, then his pace slackened, he seemed to sink lower in the water, and his stroke became splashing and irregular. suddenly he struck a rock, which bruised him badly, and, swerving from his course, he lost his stroke and let go the boy. by this time the mikonaree had swept beyond them, and he caught the boy by his long hair as he was being swept below. striking out for the shore, he swam with bold, strong strokes, his judgment guiding him well past rocks beneath the surface. ten feet from shore he heard a cry of alarm from above. it concerned silver tassel, he knew, but he could not look round yet. in another moment the boy was dragged up the bank by strong hands, and billy rufus swung round in the water towards silver tassel, who, in his confused energy, had struck another rock, and, exhausted now, was being swept towards the rapids. silver tassel's shoulder scarcely showed, his strength was gone. in a flash billy rufus saw there was but one thing to do. he must run the rapids with silver tassel-there was no other way. it would be a fight through the jaws of death; but no indian's eyes had a better sense for river-life than william rufus holly's. how he reached silver tassel, and drew the indian's arm over his own shoulder; how they drove down into the boiling flood; how billy rufus's fat body was battered and torn and ran red with blood from twenty flesh wounds; but how by luck beyond the telling he brought silver tassel through safely into the quiet water a quarter of a mile below the rapids, and was hauled out, both more dead than alive, is a tale still told by the athabascas around their camp-fire. the rapids are known to-day as the mikonaree rapids. the end of this beginning of the young man's career was that silver tassel gave him the word of eternal friendship, knife-in-the-wind took him into the tribe, and the boy wingo became his very own, to share his home, and his travels, no longer a waif among the athabascas. after three days' feasting, at the end of which the missionary held his first service and preached his first sermon, to the accompaniment of grunts of satisfaction from the whole tribe of athabascas, william rufus holly began his work in the far north. the journey to fort o'call was a procession of triumph, for, as it was summer, there was plenty of food, the missionary had been a success, and he had distributed many gifts of beads and flannel. all went well for many moons, although converts were uncertain and baptisms few, and the work was hard and the loneliness at times terrible. but at last came dark days. one summer and autumn there had been poor fishing and shooting, the caches of meat were fewer on the plains, and almost nothing had come up to fort o'call from edmonton, far below. the yearly supplies for the missionary, paid for out of his private income--the bacon, beans, tea, coffee and flour--had been raided by a band of hostile indians, and he viewed with deep concern the progress of the severe winter. although three years of hard, frugal life had made his muscles like iron, they had only mellowed his temper, increased his flesh and rounded his face; nor did he look an hour older than on the day when he had won wingo for his willing slave and devoted friend. he never resented the frequent ingratitude of the indians; he said little when they quarrelled over the small comforts his little income brought them yearly from the south. he had been doctor, lawyer, judge among them, although he interfered little in the larger disputes, and was forced to shut his eyes to intertribal enmities. he had no deep faith that he could quite civilise them; he knew that their conversion was only on the surface, and he fell back on his personal influence with them. by this he could check even the excesses of the worst man in the tribe, his old enemy, silver tassel of the bad heart, who yet was ready always to give a tooth for a tooth, and accepted the fact that he owed oshondonto his life. when famine crawled across the plains to the doors of the settlement and housed itself at fort o'call, silver tassel acted badly, however, and sowed fault-finding among the thoughtless of the tribe. "what manner of great spirit is it who lets the food of his chief oshondonto fall into the hands of the blackfeet?" he said. "oshondonto says the great spirit hears. what has the great spirit to say? let oshondonto ask." again, when they all were hungrier, he went among them with complaining words. "if the white man's great spirit can do all things, let him give oshondonto and the athabascas food." the missionary did not know of silver tassel's foolish words, but he saw the downcast face of knife-in-the-wind, the sullen looks of the people; and he unpacked the box he had reserved jealously for the darkest days that might come. for meal after meal he divided these delicacies among them--morsels of biscuit, and tinned meats, and dried fruits. but his eyes meanwhile were turned again and again to the storm raging without, as it had raged for this the longest week he had ever spent. if it would but slacken, a boat could go out to the nets set in the lake near by some days before, when the sun of spring had melted the ice. from the hour the nets had been set the storm had raged. on the day when the last morsel of meat and biscuit had been given away the storm had not abated, and he saw with misgiving the gloomy, stolid faces of the indians round him. one man, two children, and three women had died in a fortnight. he dreaded to think what might happen, his heart ached at the looks of gaunt suffering in the faces of all; he saw, for the first time, how black and bitter knife-in-the-wind looked as silver tassel whispered to him. with the colour all gone from his cheeks, he left the post and made his way to the edge of the lake where his canoe was kept. making it ready for the launch, he came back to the fort. assembling the indians, who had watched his movements closely, he told them that he was going through the storm to the nets on the lake, and asked for a volunteer to go with him. no one replied. he pleaded-for the sake of the women and children. then knife-in-the-wind spoke. "oshondonto will die if he goes. it is a fool's journey--does the wolverine walk into an empty trap?" billy rufus spoke passionately now. his genial spirit fled; he reproached them. silver tassel spoke up loudly. "let oshondonto's great spirit carry him to the nets alone, and back again with fish for the heathen the great chief died to save." "you have a wicked heart, silver tassel. you know well that one man can't handle the boat and the nets also. is there no one of you--?" a figure shot forwards from a corner. "i will go with oshondonto," came the voice of wingo, the waif of the crees. the eye of the mikonaree flashed round in contempt on the tribe. then suddenly it softened, and he said to the lad: "we will go together, wingo." taking the boy by the hand, he ran with him through the rough wind to the shore, launched the canoe on the tossing lake, and paddled away through the tempest. the bitter winds of an angry spring, the sleet and wet snow of a belated winter, the floating blocks of ice crushing against the side of the boat, the black water swishing over man and boy, the harsh, inclement world near and far. . . . the passage made at last to the nets; the brave wingo steadying the canoe--a skilful hand sufficing where the strength of a samson would not have availed; the nets half full, and the breaking cry of joy from the lips of the waif-a cry that pierced the storm and brought back an answering cry from the crowd of indians on the far shore. . . the quarter-hour of danger in the tossing canoe; the nets too heavy to be dragged, and fastened to the thwarts instead; the canoe going shoreward jerkily, a cork on the waves with an anchor behind; heavier seas and winds roaring down on them as they slowly near the shore; and at last, in one awful moment, the canoe upset, and the man and the boy in the water. . . . then both clinging to the upturned canoe as it is driven nearer and nearer shore.... the boy washed off once, twice, and the man with his arm round clinging-clinging, as the shrieking storm answers to the calling of the athabascas on the shore, and drives craft and fish and man and boy down upon the banks; no savage bold enough to plunge in to their rescue. . . . at last a rope thrown, a drowning man's wrists wound round it, his teeth set in it--and now, at last, a man and a heathen boy, both insensible, being carried to the mikonaree's but and laid upon two beds, one on either side of the small room, as the red sun goes slowly down. . . . the two still bodies on bearskins in the hut, and a hundred superstitious indians flying from the face of death. . . . the two alone in the light of the flickering fire; the many gone to feast on fish, the price of lives. but the price was not yet paid, for the man waked from insensibility-waked to see himself with the body of the boy beside him in the red light of the fires. for a moment his heart stopped beating, he turned sick and faint. deserted by those for whom he risked his life! . . . how long had he lain there? what time was it? when was it that he had fought his way to the nets and back again-hours maybe? and the dead boy there, wingo, who had risked his life, also dead--how long? his heart leaped--ah! not hours, only minutes maybe. it was sundown as unconsciousness came on him--indians would not stay with the dead after sundown. maybe it was only ten minutes-five minutes--one minute ago since they left him!. . . his watch! shaking fingers drew it out, wild eyes scanned it. it was not stopped. then it could have only been minutes ago. trembling to his feet, he staggered over to wingo, he felt the body, he held a mirror to the lips. yes, surely there was light moisture on the glass. then began another fight with death--william rufus holly struggling to bring to life again wingo, the waif of the crees. the blood came back to his own heart with a rush as the mad desire to save this life came on him. he talked to the dumb face, he prayed in a kind of delirium, as he moved the arms up and down, as he tilted the body, as he rubbed, chafed and strove. he forgot he was a missionary, he almost cursed himself. "for them--for cowards, i risked his life, the brave lad with no home. oh, god! give him back to me!" he sobbed. "what right had i to risk his life for theirs? i should have shot the first man that refused to go.... wingo, speak! wake up! come back!" the sweat poured from him in his desperation and weakness. he said to himself that he had put this young life into the hazard without cause. had he, then, saved the lad from the rapids and silver tassel's brutality only to have him drag fish out of the jaws of death for silver tassel's meal? it seemed to him that he had been working for hours, though it was in fact only a short time, when the eyes of the lad slowly opened and closed again, and he began to breathe spasmodically. a cry of joy came from the lips of the missionary, and he worked harder still. at last the eyes opened wide, stayed open, saw the figure bent over him, and the lips whispered, "oshondonto--my master," as a cup of brandy was held to his lips. he had conquered the athabascas for ever. even silver tassel acknowledged his power, and he as industriously spread abroad the report that the mikonaree had raised wingo from the dead, as he had sown dissension during the famine. but the result was that the missionary had power in the land, and the belief in him was so great, that, when knifein-the-wind died, the tribe came to ask him to raise their chief from the dead. they never quite believed that he could not--not even silver tassel, who now rules the athabascas and is ruled by william rufus holly: which is a very good thing for the athabascas. billy rufus the cricketer had won the game, and somehow the reverend william rufus holly the missionary never repented the strong language he used against the athabascas, as he was bringing wingo back to life, though it was not what is called "strictly canonical." the healing springs and the pioneers he came out of the mysterious south one summer day, driving before him a few sheep, a cow, and a long-eared mule which carried his tent and other necessaries, and camped outside the town on a knoll, at the base of which was a thicket of close shrub. during the first day no one in jansen thought anything of it, for it was a land of pilgrimage, and hundreds came and went on their journeys in search of free homesteads and good water and pasturage. but when, after three days, he was still there, nicolle terasse, who had little to do, and an insatiable curiosity, went out to see him. he found a new sensation for jansen. this is what he said when he came back: "you want know 'bout him, bagosh! dat is somet'ing to see, dat man-ingles is his name. sooch hair--mooch long an' brown, and a leetla beard not so brown, an' a leather sole onto his feet, and a grey coat to his anklesyes, so like dat. an' his voice--voila, it is like water in a cave. he is a great man--i dunno not; but he spik at me like dis, 'is dere sick, and cripple, and stay in-bed people here dat can't get up?' he say. an' i say, 'not plenty, but some-bagosh! dere is dat miss greet, an' ole ma'am drouchy, an' dat young pete hayes--an' so on.' 'well, if they have faith i will heal them,' he spik at me. 'from de healing springs dey shall rise to walk,' he say. bagosh, you not t'ink dat true? den you go see." so jansen turned out to see, and besides the man they found a curious thing. at the foot of the knoll, in a space which he had cleared, was a hot spring that bubbled and rose and sank, and drained away into the thirsty ground. luck had been with ingles the faith healer. whether he knew of the existence of this spring, or whether he chanced upon it, he did not say; but while he held jansen in the palm of his hand, in the feverish days that followed, there were many who attached mysterious significance to it, who claimed for it supernatural origin. in any case, the one man who had known of the existence of this spring was far away from jansen, and he did not return till a day of reckoning came for the faith healer. meanwhile jansen made pilgrimage to the springs of healing, and at unexpected times ingles suddenly appeared in the town, and stood at street corners; and in his "patmian voice," as flood rawley the lawyer called it, warned the people to flee their sins, and purifying their hearts, learn to cure all ills of mind and body, the weaknesses of the sinful flesh and the "ancient evil" in their souls, by faith that saves. "'is not the life more than meat'" he asked them. "and if, peradventure, there be those among you who have true belief in hearts all purged of evil, and yet are maimed, or sick of body, come to me, and i will lay my hands upon you, and i will heal you." thus he cried. there were those so wrought upon by his strange eloquence and spiritual passion, so hypnotised by his physical and mental exaltation, that they rose up from the hand-laying and the prayer eased of their ailments. others he called upon to lie in the hot spring at the foot of the hill for varying periods, before the laying on of hands, and these also, crippled, or rigid with troubles' of the bone, announced that they were healed. people flocked from other towns, and though, to some who had been cured, their pains and sickness returned, there were a few who bore perfect evidence to his teaching and healing, and followed him, "converted and consecrated," as though he were a new messiah. in this corner of the west was such a revival as none could remember--not even those who had been to camp meetings in the east in their youth, and had seen the spirit descend upon hundreds and draw them to the anxious seat. then came the great sensation--the faith healer converted laura sloly. upon which jansen drew its breath painfully; for, while it was willing to bend to the inspiration of the moment, and to be swept on a tide of excitement into that enchanted field called imagination, it wanted to preserve its institutions--and laura sloly had come to be an institution. jansen had always plumed itself, and smiled, when she passed; and even now the most sentimentally religious of them inwardly anticipated the time when the town would return to its normal condition; and that condition would not be normal if there were any change in laura sloly. it mattered little whether most people were changed or not because one state of their minds could not be less or more interesting than another; but a change in laura. sloly could not be for the better. her father had come to the west in the early days, and had prospered by degrees until a town grew up beside his ranch; and though he did not acquire as much permanent wealth from this golden chance as might have been expected, and lost much he did make by speculation, still he had his rich ranch left, and it, and he, and laura were part of the history of jansen. laura had been born at jansen before even it had a name. next to her father she was the oldest inhabitant, and she had a prestige which was given to no one else. everything had conspired to make her a figure of moment and interest. she was handsome in almost a mannish sort of way, being of such height and straightness, and her brown eyes had a depth and fire in which more than a few men had drowned themselves. also, once she had saved a settlement by riding ahead of a marauding indian band to warn their intended victims, and had averted another tragedy of pioneer life. pioneers proudly told strangers to jansen of the girl of thirteen who rode a hundred and twenty miles without food, and sank inside the palisade of the hudson's bay company's fort, as the gates closed upon the settlers taking refuge, the victim of brain fever at last. cerebrospinal meningitis, the doctor from winnipeg called it, and the memory of that time when men and women would not sleep till her crisis was past, was still fresh on the tongues of all. then she had married at seventeen, and, within a year, had lost both her husband and her baby, a child bereaved of her playmates--for her husband had been but twenty years old and was younger far than she in everything. and since then, twelve years before, she had seen generations of lovers pass into the land they thought delectable; and their children flocked to her, hung about her, were carried off by her to the ranch, and kept for days, against the laughing protests of their parents. flood rawley called her the pied piper of jansen, and indeed she had a voice that fluted and piped, and yet had so whimsical a note, that the hardest faces softened at the sound of it; and she did not keep its best notes for the few. she was impartial, almost impersonal; no woman was her enemy, and every man was her friend--and nothing more. she had never had an accepted lover since the day her playmates left her. every man except one had given up hope that he might win her; and though he had been gone from jansen for two years, and had loved her since the days before the playmates came and went, he never gave up hope, and was now to return and say again what he had mutely said for years--what she understood, and he knew she understood. tim denton had been a wild sort in his brief day. he was a rough diamond, but he was a diamond, and was typical of the west--its heart, its courage, its freedom, and its force; capable of exquisite gentleness, strenuous to exaggeration, with a very primitive religion; and the only religion tim knew was that of human nature. jansen did not think tim good enough--not within a comet shot--for laura sloly; but they thought him better than any one else. but now laura was a convert to the prophet of the healing springs, and those people who still retain their heads in the eddy of religious emotion were in despair. they dreaded to meet laura; they kept away from the "protracted meetings," but were eager to hear about her and what she said and did. what they heard allayed their worst fears. she still smiled, and seemed as cheerful as before, they heard, and she neither spoke nor prayed in public, but she led the singing always. now the anxious and the sceptical and the reactionary ventured out to see and hear; and seeing and hearing gave them a satisfaction they hardly dared express. she was more handsome than ever, and if her eyes glistened with a light they had never seen before, and awed them, her lips still smiled, and the old laugh came when she spoke to them. their awe increased. this was "getting religion" with a difference. but presently they received a shock. a whisper grew that laura was in love with the faith healer. some woman's instinct drove straight to the centre of a disconcerting possibility, and in consternation she told her husband; and jansen husbands had a freemasonry of gossip. an hour, and all jansen knew, or thought they knew; and the "saved" rejoiced; and the rest of the population, represented by nicolle terasse at one end and flood rawley at the other, flew to arms. no vigilance committee was ever more determined and secret and organised than the unconverted civic patriots, who were determined to restore jansen to its old-time condition. they pointed out cold-bloodedly that the faith healer had failed three times where he had succeeded once; and that, admitting the successes, there was no proof that his religion was their cause. there were such things as hypnotism and magnetism and will-power, and abnormal mental stimulus on the part of the healed--to say nothing of the healing springs. carefully laying their plans, they quietly spread the rumour that ingles had promised to restore to health old mary jewell, who had been bedridden ten years, and had sent word and prayed to have him lay his hands upon her--catholic though she was. the faith healer, face to face with this supreme and definite test, would have retreated from it but for laura sloly. she expected him to do it, believed that he could, said that he would, herself arranged the day and the hour, and sang so much exaltation into him, that at last a spurious power seemed to possess him. he felt that there had entered into him something that could be depended on, not the mere flow of natural magnetism fed by an outdoor life and a temperament of great emotional force, and chance, and suggestion-and other things. if, at first, he had influenced laura, some illcontrolled, latent idealism in him, working on a latent poetry and spirituality in her, somehow bringing her into nearer touch with her lost playmates than she had been in the long years that had passed; she, in turn, had made his unrationalised brain reel; had caught him up into a higher air, on no wings of his own; had added another lover to her company of lovers--and the first impostor she had ever had. she who had known only honest men as friends, in one blind moment lost her perspicuous sense; her instinct seemed asleep. she believed in the man and in his healing. was there anything more than that? the day of the great test came, hot, brilliant, vivid. the air was of a delicate sharpness, and, as it came toward evening, the glamour of an august when the reapers reap was upon jansen; and its people gathered round the house of mary jewell to await the miracle of faith. apart from the emotional many who sang hymns and spiritual songs were a few determined men, bent on doing justice to jansen though the heavens might fall. whether or no laura sloly was in love with the faith healer, jansen must look to its own honour--and hers. in any case, this peripatetic saint at sloly's ranch--the idea was intolerable; women must be saved in spite of themselves. laura was now in the house by the side of the bedridden mary jewell, waiting, confident, smiling, as she held the wasted hand on the coverlet. with her was a minister of the baptist persuasion, who was swimming with the tide, and who approved of the faith healer's immersions in the hot healing springs; also a medical student who had pretended belief in ingles, and two women weeping with unnecessary remorse for human failings of no dire kind. the windows were open, and those outside could see. presently, in a lull of the singing, there was a stir in the crowd, and then, sudden loud greetings: "my, if it ain't tim denton! jerusalem! you back, tim!" these and other phrases caught the ear of laura sloly in the sick-room. a strange look flashed across her face, and the depth of her eyes was troubled for a moment, as to the face of the old comes a tremor at the note of some long-forgotten song. then she steadied herself and waited, catching bits of the loud talk which still floated towards her from without. "what's up? some one getting married--or a legacy, or a saw-off? why, what a lot of sunday-go-to-meeting folks to be sure!" tim laughed loudly. after which the quick tongue of nicolle terasse: "you want know? tiens, be quiet; here he come. he cure you body and soul, ver' queeck--yes." the crowd swayed and parted, and slowly, bare head uplifted, face looking to neither right nor left, the faith healer made his way to the door of the little house. the crowd hushed. some were awed, some were overpoweringly interested, some were cruelly patient. nicolle terasse and others were whispering loudly to tim denton. that was the only sound, until the healer got to the door. then, on the steps, he turned to the multitude. "peace be to you all, and upon this house," he said and stepped through the doorway. tim denton, who had been staring at the face of the healer, stood for an instant like one with all his senses arrested. then he gasped, and exclaimed, "well, i'm eternally--" and broke off with a low laugh, which was at first mirthful, and then became ominous and hard. "oh, magnificent--magnificent--jerickety!" he said into the sky above him. his friends who were not "saved," closed in on him to find the meaning of his words, but he pulled himself together, looked blankly at them, and asked them questions. they told him so much more than he cared to hear, that his face flushed a deep red--the bronze of it most like the colour of laura sloly's hair; then he turned pale. men saw that he was roused beyond any feeling in themselves. "'sh!" he said. "let's see what he can do." with the many who were silently praying, as they had been, bidden to do, the invincible ones leant forwards, watching the little room where healing--or tragedy--was afoot. as in a picture, framed by the window, they saw the kneeling figures, the healer standing with outstretched arms. they heard his voice, sonorous and appealing, then commanding--and yet mary jewell did not rise from her bed and walk. again, and yet again, the voice rang out, and still the woman lay motionless. then he laid his hands upon her, and again he commanded her to rise. there was a faint movement, a desperate struggle to obey, but nature and time and disease had their way. yet again there was the call. an agony stirred the bed. then another great healer came between, and mercifully dealt the sufferer a blow--death has a gentle hand sometimes. mary jewell was bedridden still--and for ever. like a wind from the mountains the chill knowledge of death wailed through the window, and over the heads of the crowd. all the figures were upright now in the little room. then those outside saw laura sloly lean over and close the sightless eyes. this done, she came to the door and opened it, and motioned for the healer to leave. he hesitated, hearing the harsh murmur from the outskirts of the crowd. once again she motioned, and he came. with a face deadly pale she surveyed the people before her silently for a moment, her eyes all huge and staring. presently she turned to ingles and spoke to him quickly in a low voice; then, descending the steps, passed out through the lane made for her by the crowd, he following with shaking limbs and bowed bead. warning words had passed among the few invincible ones who waited where the healer must pass into the open, and there was absolute stillness as laura advanced. their work was to come--quiet and swift and sure; but not yet. only one face laura saw, as she led the way to the moment's safety--tim denton's; and it was as stricken as her own. she passed, then turned, and looked at him again. he understood; she wanted him. he waited till she sprang into her waggon, after the healer had mounted his mule and ridden away with ever-quickening pace into the prairie. then he turned to the set, fierce men beside him. "leave him alone," he said, "leave him to me. i know him. you hear? ain't i no rights? i tell you i knew him--south. you leave him to me." they nodded, and he sprang into his saddle and rode away. they watched the figure of the healer growing smaller in the dusty distance. "tim'll go to her," one said, "and perhaps they'll let the snake get off. hadn't we best make sure?" "perhaps you'd better let him vamoose," said flood rawley anxiously. "jansen is a law-abiding place!" the reply was decisive. jansen had its honour to keep. it was the home of the pioneers--laura sloly was a pioneer. tim denton was a pioneer, with all the comradeship which lay in the word, and he was that sort of lover who has seen one woman, and can never see another--not the product of the most modern civilisation. before laura had had playmates he had given all he had to give; he had waited and hoped ever since; and when the ruthless gossips had said to him before mary jewell's house that she was in love with the faith healer, nothing changed in him. for the man, for ingles, tim belonged to a primitive breed, and love was not in his heart. as he rode out to sloly's ranch, he ground his teeth in rage. but laura had called him to her, and: "well, what you say goes, laura," he muttered at the end of a long hour of human passion and its repression. "if he's to go scot-free, then he's got to go; but the boys yonder'll drop on me, if he gets away. can't you see what a swab he is, laura?" the brown eyes of the girl looked at him gently. the struggle between them was over; she had had her way--to save the preacher, impostor though he was; and now she felt, as she had never felt before in the same fashion, that this man was a man of men. "tim, you do not understand," she urged. "you say he was a landsharp in the south, and that he had to leave-" "he had to vamoose, or take tar and feathers." "but he had to leave. and he came here preaching and healing; and he is a hypocrite and a fraud--i know that now, my eyes are opened. he didn't do what he said he could do, and it killed mary jewell--the shock; and there were other things he said he could do, and he didn't do them. perhaps he is all bad, as you say--i don't think so. but he did some good things, and through him i've felt as i've never felt before about god and life, and about walt and the baby--as though i'll see them again, sure. i've never felt that before. it was all as if they were lost in the hills, and no trail home, or out to where they are. like as not god was working in him all the time, tim; and he failed because he counted too much on the little he had, and made up for what he hadn't by what he pretended." "he can pretend to himself, or god almighty, or that lot down there"--he jerked a finger towards the town--"but to you, a girl, and a pioneer--" a flash of humour shot into her eyes at his last words, then they filled with tears, through which the smile shone. to pretend to "a pioneer"-the splendid vanity and egotism of the west! "he didn't pretend to me, tim. people don't usually have to pretend to like me." "you know what i'm driving at." "yes, yes, i know. and whatever he is, you've said that you will save him. i'm straight, you know that. somehow, what i felt from his preaching--well, everything got sort of mixed up with him, and he was-was different. it was like the long dream of walt and the baby, and he a part of it. i don't know what i felt, or what i might have felt for him. i'm a woman--i can't understand. but i know what i feel now. i never want to see him again on earth--or in heaven. it needn't be necessary even in heaven; but what happened between god and me through him stays, tim; and so you must help him get away safe. it's in your hands--you say they left it to you." "i don't trust that too much." suddenly he pointed out of the window towards the town. "see, i'm right; there they are, a dozen of 'em mounted. they're off, to run him down." her face paled; she glanced towards the hill of healing. "he's got an hour's start," she said; "he'll get into the mountains and be safe." "if they don't catch him 'fore that." "or if you don't get to him first," she said, with nervous insistence. he turned to her with a hard look; then, as he met her soft, fearless, beautiful eyes, his own grew gentle. "it takes a lot of doing. yet i'll do it for you, laura," he said. "but it's hard on the pioneers." once more her humour flashed, and it seemed to him that "getting religion" was not so depressing after all--wouldn't be, anyhow, when this nasty job was over. "the pioneers will get over it, tim," she rejoined. "they've swallowed a lot in their time. heaven's gate will have to be pretty wide to let in a real pioneer," she added. "he takes up so much room-ah, timothy denton!" she added, with an outburst of whimsical merriment. "it hasn't spoiled you--being converted, has it?" he, said, and gave a quick little laugh, which somehow did more for his ancient cause with her than all he had ever said or done. then he stepped outside and swung into his saddle. it had been a hard and anxious ride, but tim had won, and was keeping his promise. the night had fallen before he got to the mountains, which he and the pioneers had seen the faith healer enter. they had had four miles' start of tim, and had ridden fiercely, and they entered the gulch into which the refugee had disappeared still two miles ahead. the invincibles had seen tim coming, but they had determined to make a sure thing of it, and would themselves do what was necessary with the impostor, and take no chances. so they pressed their horses, and he saw them swallowed by the trees, as darkness gathered. changing his course, he entered the familiar hills, which he knew better than any pioneer of jansen, and rode a diagonal course over the trail they would take. but night fell suddenly, and there was nothing to do but to wait till morning. there was comfort in this--the others must also wait, and the refugee could not go far. in any case, he must make for settlement or perish, since he had left behind his sheep and his cow. it fell out better than tim hoped. the pioneers were as good hunters as was he, their instinct was as sure, their scouts and trackers were many, and he was but one. they found the faith healer by a little stream, eating bread and honey, and, like an ancient woodlander drinking from a horn--relics of his rank imposture. he made no resistance. they tried him formally, if perfunctorily; he admitted his imposture, and begged for his life. then they stripped him naked, tied a bit of canvas round his waist, fastened him to a tree, and were about to complete his punishment when tim denton burst upon them. whether the rage tim showed was all real or not; whether his accusations of bad faith came from so deeply wounded a spirit as he would have them believe, he was not likely to tell; but he claimed the prisoner as his own, and declined to say what he meant to do. when, however, they saw the abject terror of the faith healer as he begged not to be left alone with tim--for they had not meant death, and ingles thought he read death in tim's ferocious eyes--they laughed cynically, and left it to tim to uphold the honour of jansen and the pioneers. as they disappeared, the last thing they saw was tim with his back to them, his hands on his hips, and a knife clasped in his fingers. "he'll lift his scalp and make a monk of him," chuckled the oldest and hardest of them. "dat tim will cut his heart out, i t'ink-bagosh!" said nicolle terasse, and took a drink of white-whiskey. for a long time tim stood looking at the other, until no sound came from the woods, whither the pioneers had gone. then at last, slowly, and with no roughness, as the terrorstricken impostor shrank and withered, he cut the cords. "dress yourself," he said shortly, and sat down beside the stream, and washed his face and hands, as though to cleanse them from contamination. he appeared to take no notice of the other, though his ears keenly noted every movement. the impostor dressed nervously, yet slowly; he scarce comprehended anything, except that he was not in immediate danger. when he had finished, he stood looking at tim, who was still seated on a log plunged in meditation. it seemed hours before tim turned round, and now his face was quiet, if set and determined. he walked slowly over, and stood looking at his victim for some time without speaking. the other's eyes dropped, and a greyness stole over his features. this steely calm was even more frightening than the ferocity which had previously been in his captor's face. at length the tense silence was broken. "wasn't the old game good enough? was it played out? why did you take to this? why did you do it, scranton?" the voice quavered a little in reply. "i don't know. something sort of pushed me into it." "how did you come to start it?" there was a long silence, then the husky reply came. "i got a sickener last time--" "yes, i remember, at waywing." "i got into the desert, and had hard times--awful for a while. i hadn't enough to eat, and i didn't know whether i'd die by hunger, or fever, or indians--or snakes." "oh, you were seeing snakes!" said tim grimly. "not the kind you mean; i hadn't anything to drink--" "no, you never did drink, i remember--just was crooked, and slopped over women. well, about the snakes?" "i caught them to eat, and they were poison-snakes often. and i wasn't quick at first to get them safe by the neck--they're quick, too." tim laughed inwardly. "getting your food by the sweat of your brow--and a snake in it, same as adam! well, was it in the desert you got your taste for honey, too, same as john the baptist--that was his name, if i recomember?" he looked at the tin of honey on the ground. "not in the desert, but when i got to the grass-country." "how long were you in the desert?" "close to a year." tim's eyes opened wider. he saw that the man was speaking the truth. "got to thinking in the desert, and sort of willing things to come to pass, and mooning along, you, and the sky, and the vultures, and the hot hills, and the snakes, and the flowers--eh?" "there weren't any flowers till i got to the grass-country." "oh, cuss me, if you ain't simple for your kind! i know all about that. and when you got to the grass-country, you just picked up the honey, and the flowers, and a calf, and a lamb, and a mule here and there, 'without money and without price,' and walked on--that it?" the other shrank before the steel in the voice, and nodded his head. "but you kept thinking in the grass-country of what you'd felt and said and done--and willed, in the desert, i suppose?" again the other nodded. "it seemed to you in the desert, as if you'd saved your own life a hundred times, as if you'd just willed food and drink and safety to come; as if providence had been at your elbow?" "it was like a dream, and it stayed with me. i had to think in the desert things i'd never thought before," was the half-abstracted answer. "you felt good in the desert?" the other hung his head in shame. "makes you seem pretty small, doesn't it? you didn't stay long enough, i guess, to get what you were feeling for; you started in on the new racket too soon. you never got really possessed that you was a sinner. i expect that's it." the other made no reply. "well, i don't know much about such things. i was loose brought up; but i've a friend"--laura was before his eyes--"that says religion's all right, and long ago as i can remember my mother used to pray three times a day--with grace at meals, too. i know there's a lot in it for them that need it; and there seems to be a lot of folks needing it, if i'm to judge by folks down there at jansen, specially when there's the laying-on of hands and the healing springs. oh, that was a pigsty game, scranton, that about god giving you the healing springs, like moses and the rock! why, i discovered them springs myself two years ago, before i went south, and i guess god wasn't helping me any--not after i've kept out of his way as i have. but, anyhow, religion's real; that's my sense of it; and you can get it, i bet, if you try. i've seen it got. a friend of mine got it--got it under your preaching; not from you; but you was the accident that brought it about, i expect. it's funny--it's merakilous, but it's so. kneel down!" he added, with peremptory suddenness. "kneel, scranton!" in fear the other knelt. "you're going to get religion now--here. you're going to pray for what you didn't get--and almost got--in the desert. you're going to ask forgiveness for all your damn tricks, and pray like a fanning-mill for the spirit to come down. you ain't a scoundrel at heart--a friend of mine says so. you're a weak vessel, cracked, perhaps. you've got to be saved, and start right over again--and 'praise god from whom all blessings flow!' pray--pray, scranton, and tell the whole truth, and get it--get religion. pray like blazes. you go on, and pray out loud. remember the desert, and mary jewell, and your mother--did you have a mother, scranton--say, did you have a mother, lad?" tim's voice suddenly lowered before the last word, for the faith healer had broken down in a torrent of tears. "oh, my mother--o god!" he groaned. "say, that's right--that's right--go on," said the other, and drew back a little, and sat down on a log. the man on his knees was convulsed with misery. denton, the world, disappeared. he prayed in agony. presently tim moved uneasily, then got up and walked about; and at last, with a strange, awed look, when an hour was past, he stole back into the shadow of the trees, while still the wounded soul poured out its misery and repentance. time moved on. a curious shyness possessed tim now, a thing which he had never felt in his life. he moved about self-consciously, awkwardly, until at last there was a sudden silence over by the brook. tim looked, and saw the face of the kneeling man cleared, and quiet and shining. he hesitated, then stepped out, and came over. "have you got it?" he asked quietly. "it's noon now." "may god help me to redeem my past," answered the other in a new voice. "you've got it--sure?" tim's voice was meditative. "god has spoken to me," was the simple answer. "i've got a friend'll be glad to hear that," he said; and once more, in imagination, he saw laura sloly standing at the door of her home, with a light in her eyes he had never seen before. "you'll want some money for your journey?" tim asked. "i want nothing but to go away--far away," was the low reply. "well, you've lived in the desert--i guess you can live in the grasscountry," came the dry response. "good-bye-and good luck, scranton." tim turned to go, moved on a few steps, then looked back. "don't be afraid--they'll not follow," he said. "i'll fix it for you all right." but the man appeared not to hear; he was still on his knees. tim faced the woods once more. he was about to mount his horse when he heard a step behind him. he turned sharply--and faced laura. "i couldn't rest. i came out this morning. i've seen everything," she said. "you didn't trust me," he said heavily. "i never did anything else," she answered. he gazed half-fearfully into her eyes. "well?" he asked. "i've done my best, as i said i would." "tim," she said, and slipped a hand in his, "would you mind the religion --if you had me?" the little widow of jansen her advent to jansen was propitious. smallpox in its most virulent form had broken out in the french-canadian portion of the town, and, coming with some professional nurses from the east, herself an amateur, to attend the sufferers, she worked with such skill and devotion that the official thanks of the corporation were offered her, together with a tiny gold watch, the gift of grateful citizens. but she still remained on at jansen, saying always, however, that she was "going east in the spring." five years had passed, and still she had not gone east, but remained perched in the rooms she had first taken, over the imperial bank, while the town grew up swiftly round her. and even when the young bank manager married, and wished to take over the rooms, she sent him to the rightabout from his own premises in her gay, masterful way. the young manager behaved well in the circumstances, because he had asked her to marry him, and she had dismissed him with a warning against challenging his own happiness--that was the way she had put it. perhaps he was galled the less because others had striven for the same prize, and had been thrust back, with an almost tender misgiving as to their sense of selfpreservation and sanity. some of them were eligible enough, and all were of some position in the west. yet she smiled them firmly away, to the wonder of jansen, and to its satisfaction, for was it not a tribute to all that she would distinguish no particular unit by her permanent favour? but for one so sprightly and almost frivolous in manner at times, the self-denial seemed incongruous. she was unconventional enough to sit on the side-walk with a half-dozen children round her blowing bubbles, or to romp in any garden, or in the street, playing puss-in-thering; yet this only made her more popular. jansen's admiration was at its highest, however, when she rode in the annual steeplechase with the best horsemen of the province. she had the gift of doing as well as of being. "'tis the light heart she has, and slippin' in and out of things like a humming-bird, no easier to ketch, and no longer to stay," said finden, the rich irish landbroker, suggestively to father bourassa, the huge french-canadian priest who had worked with her through all the dark weeks of the smallpox epidemic, and who knew what lay beneath the outer gaiety. she had been buoyant of spirit beside the beds of the sick, and her words were full of raillery and humour, yet there was ever a gentle note behind all; and the priest had seen her eyes shining with tears, as she bent over some stricken sufferer bound upon an interminable journey. "bedad! as bright a little spark as ever struck off the steel," added finden to the priest, with a sidelong, inquisitive look, "but a heart no bigger than a marrowfat pea-selfishness, all self. keepin' herself for herself when there's manny a good man needin' her. mother o' moses, how manny! from terry o'ryan, brother of a peer, at latouche, to bernard bapty, son of a millionaire, at vancouver, there's a string o' them. all pride and self; and as fair a lot they've been as ever entered for the marriage cup. now, isn't that so, father?" finden's brogue did not come from a plebeian origin. it was part of his commercial equipment, an asset of his boyhood spent among the peasants on the family estate in galway. father bourassa fanned himself with the black broadbrim hat he wore, and looked benignly but quizzically on the wiry, sharp-faced irishman. "you t'ink her heart is leetla. but perhaps it is your mind not so big enough to see--hein?" the priest laughed noiselessly, showing white teeth. "was it so selfish in madame to refuse the name of finden-n'est-ce pas?" finden flushed, then burst into a laugh. "i'd almost forgotten i was one of them--the first almost. blessed be he that expects nothing, for he'll get it, sure. it was my duty, and i did it. was she to feel that jansen did not price her high? bedad, father, i rose betimes and did it, before anny man should say he set me the lead. before the carpet in the parlour was down, and with the bare boards soundin' to my words, i offered her the name of finden." "and so--the first of the long line! bien, it is an honour." the priest paused a moment, looked at finden with a curious reflective look, and then said: "and so you t'ink there is no one; that she will say yes not at all--no?" they were sitting on father bourassa's veranda, on the outskirts of the town, above the great river, along which had travelled millions of bygone people, fighting, roaming, hunting, trapping; and they could hear it rushing past, see the swirling eddies, the impetuous currents, the occasional rafts moving majestically down the stream. they were facing the wild north, where civilisation was hacking and hewing and ploughing its way to newer and newer cities, in an empire ever spreading to the pole. finden's glance loitered on this scene before he replied. at length, screwing up one eye, and with a suggestive smile, he answered: "sure, it's all a matter of time, to the selfishest woman. 'tis not the same with women as with men; you see, they don't get younger--that's a point. but"--he gave a meaning glance at the priest--"but perhaps she's not going to wait for that, after all. and there he rides, a fine figure of a man, too, if i have to say it!" "m'sieu' varley?" the priest responded, and watched a galloping horseman to whom finden had pointed, till he rounded the corner of a little wood. "varley, the great london surgeon, sure! say, father, it's a hundred to one she'd take him, if--" there was a curious look in father bourassa's face, a cloud in his eyes. he sighed. "london, it is ver' far away," he remarked obliquely. "what's to that? if she is with the right man, near or far is nothing." "so far--from home," said the priest reflectively, but his eyes furtively watched the other's face. "but home's where man and wife are." the priest now looked him straight in the eyes. "then, as you say, she will not marry m'sieu' varley--hein?" the humour died out of finden's face. his eyes met the priest's eyes steadily. "did i say that? then my tongue wasn't making a fool of me, after all. how did you guess i knew--everything, father?" "a priest knows many t'ings--so." there was a moment of gloom, then the irishman brightened. he came straight to the heart of the mystery around which they had been maneuvering. "have you seen her husband--meydon--this year? it isn't his usual time to come yet." father bourassa's eyes drew those of his friend into, the light of a new understanding and revelation. they understood and trusted each other. "helas! he is there in the hospital," he answered, and nodded towards a building not far away, which had been part of an old hudson's bay company's fort. it had been hastily adapted as a hospital for the smallpox victims. "oh, it's meydon, is it, that bad case i heard of to-day?" the priest nodded again and 'pointed. "voila, madame meydon, she is coming. she has seen him--her hoosban'." finden's eyes followed the gesture. the little widow of jansen was coming from the hospital, walking slowly towards the river. "as purty a woman, too--as purty and as straight bewhiles. what is the matter with him--with meydon?" finden asked, after a moment. "an accident in the woods--so. he arrive, it is las' night, from great slave lake." finden sighed. "ten years ago he was a man to look at twice--before he did it and got away. now his own mother wouldn't know him--bad 'cess to him! i knew him from the cradle almost. i spotted him here by a knifecut i gave him in the hand when we were lads together. a divil of a timper always both of us had, but the good-nature was with me, and i didn't drink and gamble and carry a pistol. it's ten years since he did the killing, down in quebec, and i don't suppose the police will get him now. he's been counted dead. i recognised him here the night after i asked her how she liked the name of finden. she doesn't know that i ever knew him. and he didn't recognise me-twenty-five years since we met before! it would be better if he went under the sod. is he pretty sick, father?" "he will die unless the surgeon's knife it cure him before twenty-four hours, and--" "and doctor brydon is sick, and doctor hadley away at winnipeg, and this is two hundred miles from nowhere! it looks as if the police'll never get him, eh?" "you have not tell any one--never?" finden laughed. "though i'm not a priest, i can lock myself up as tight as anny. there's no tongue that's so tied, when tying's needed, as the one that babbles most bewhiles. babbling covers a lot of secrets." "so you t'ink it better meydon should die, as hadley is away and brydon is sick-hein?" "oh, i think--" finden stopped short, for a horse's hoofs sounded on the turf beside the house, and presently varley, the great london surgeon, rounded the corner and stopped his horse in front of the veranda. he lifted his hat to the priest. "i hear there's a bad case at the hospital," he said. "it is ver' dangerous," answered father bourassa; "but, voila, come in! there is something cool to drink. ah yes, he is ver' bad, that man from the great slave lake." inside the house, with the cooling drinks, varley pressed his questions, and presently, much interested, told at some length of singular cases which had passed through his hands--one a man with his neck broken, who had lived for six months afterward. "broken as a man's neck is broken by hanging--dislocation, really--the disjointing of the medulla oblongata, if you don't mind technicalities," he said. "but i kept him living just the same. time enough for him to repent in and get ready to go. a most interesting case. he was a criminal, too, and wanted to die; but you have to keep life going if you can, to the last inch of resistance." the priest looked thoughtfully out of the window; finden's eyes were screwed up in a questioning way, but neither made any response to varley's remarks. there was a long minute's silence. they were all three roused by hearing a light footstep on the veranda. father bourassa put down his glass and hastened into the hallway. finden caught a glimpse of a woman's figure, and, without a word, passed abruptly from the dining-room where they were, into the priest's study, leaving varley alone. varley turned to look after him, stared, and shrugged his shoulders. "the manners of the west," he said good-humouredly, and turned again to the hallway, from whence came the sound of the priest's voice. presently there was another voice--a woman's. he flushed slightly and involuntarily straightened himself. "valerie," he murmured. an instant afterwards she entered the room with the priest. she was dressed in a severely simple suit of grey, which set off to advantage her slim, graceful figure. there seemed no reason why she should have been called the little widow of jansen, for she was not small, but she was very finely and delicately made, and the name had been but an expression of jansen's paternal feeling for her. she had always had a good deal of fresh colour, but to-day she seemed pale, though her eyes had a strange disturbing light. it was not that they brightened on seeing this man before her; they had been brighter, burningly bright, when she left the hospital, where, since it had been built, she had been the one visitor of authority--jansen had given her that honour. she had a gift of smiling, and she smiled now, but it came from grace of mind rather than from humour. as finden had said, "she was for ever acting, and never doin' any harm by it." certainly she was doing no harm by it now; nevertheless, it was acting. could it be otherwise, with what was behind her life--a husband who had ruined her youth, had committed homicide, had escaped capture, but who had not subsequently died, as the world believed he had done, so circumstantial was the evidence. he was not man enough to make the accepted belief in his death a fact. what could she do but act, since the day she got a letter from the far north, which took her out to jansen, nominally to nurse those stricken with smallpox under father bourassa's care, actually to be where her wretched husband could come to her once a year, as he had asked with an impossible selfishness? each year she had seen him for an hour or less, giving him money, speaking to him over a gulf so wide that it seemed sometimes as though her voice could not be heard across it; each year opening a grave to look at the embalmed face of one who had long since died in shame, which only brought back the cruellest of all memories, that which one would give one's best years to forget. with a fortitude beyond description she had faced it, gently, quietly, but firmly faced it--firmly, because she had to be firm in keeping him within those bounds the invasion of which would have killed her. and after the first struggle with his unchangeable brutality it had been easier: for into his degenerate brain there had come a faint understanding of the real situation and of her. he had kept his side of the gulf, but gloating on this touch between the old luxurious, indulgent life, with its refined vices, and this present coarse, hard life, where pleasures were few and gross. the free northern life of toil and hardship had not refined him. he greedily hung over this treasure, which was not for his spending, yet was his own--as though in a bank he had hoards of money which he might not withdraw. so the years had gone on, with their recurrent dreaded anniversaries, carrying misery almost too great to be borne by this woman mated to the loathed phantom of a sad, dead life; and when this black day of each year was over, for a few days afterwards she went nowhere, was seen by none. yet, when she did appear again, it was with her old laughing manner, her cheerful and teasing words, her quick response to the emotions of others. so it had gone till varley had come to follow the open air life for four months, after a heavy illness due to blood-poisoning got in his surgical work in london. she had been able to live her life without too great a struggle till he came. other men had flattered her vanity, had given her a sense of power, had made her understand her possibilities, but nothing more--nothing of what varley brought with him. and before three months had gone, she knew that no man had ever interested her as varley had done. ten years before, she would not have appreciated or understood him, this intellectual, clean-shaven, rigidly abstemious man, whose pleasures belonged to the fishing-rod and the gun and the horse, and who had come to be so great a friend of him who had been her best friend-father bourassa. father bourassa had come to know the truth--not from her, for she had ever been a protestant, but from her husband, who, catholic by birth and a renegade from all religion, had had a moment of spurious emotion, when he went and confessed to father bourassa and got absolution, pleading for the priest's care of his wife. afterwards father bourassa made up his mind that the confession had a purpose behind it other than repentance, and he deeply resented the use to which he thought he was being put--a kind of spy upon the beautiful woman whom jansen loved, and who, in spite of any outward flippancy, was above reproach. in vital things the instinct becomes abnormally acute, and, one day, when the priest looked at her commiseratingly, she had divined what moved him. however it was, she drove him into a corner with a question to which he dare not answer yes, but to which he might not answer no, and did not; and she realised that he knew the truth, and she was the better for his knowing, though her secret was no longer a secret. she was not aware that finden also knew. then varley came, bringing a new joy and interest in her life, and a new suffering also, for she realised that if she were free, and varley asked her to marry him, she would consent. but when he did ask her, she said no with a pang that cut her heart in two. he had stayed his four months, and it was now six months, and he was going at last-tomorrow. he had stayed to give her time to learn to say yes, and to take her back with him to london; and she knew that he would speak again to-day, and that she must say no again; but she had kept him from saying the words till now. and the man who had ruined her life and had poisoned her true spirit was come back broken and battered. he was hanging between life and death; and now--for he was going to-morrow--varley would speak again. the half-hour she had just spent in the hospital with meydon had tried her cruelly. she had left the building in a vortex of conflicting emotions, with the call of duty and of honour ringing through a thousand other voices of temptation and desire, the inner pleadings for a little happiness while yet she was young. after she married meydon, there had only been a few short weeks of joy before her black disillusion came, and she had realised how bitter must be her martyrdom. when she left the hospital, she seemed moving in a dream, as one, intoxicated by some elixir, might move unheeding among event and accident and vexing life and roaring multitudes. and all the while the river flowing through the endless prairies, high-banked, ennobled by living woods, lipped with green, kept surging in her ears, inviting her, alluring her--alluring her with a force too deep and powerful for weak human nature to bear for long. it would ease her pain, it said; it would still the tumult and the storm; it would solve her problem, it would give her peace. but as she moved along the river-bank among the trees, she met the little niece of the priest, who lived in his house, singing as though she was born but to sing, a song which finden had written and father bourassa had set to music. did not the distant west know father bourassa's gift, and did not protestants attend mass to hear him play the organ afterwards? the fresh, clear voice of the child rang through the trees, stealing the stricken heart away from the lure of the river: "will you come back home, where the young larks are singin'? the door is open wide, and the bells of lynn are ringin'; there's a little lake i know, and a boat you used to row to the shore beyond that's quiet--will you come back home? will you come back, darlin'? never heed the pain and blightin', never trouble that you're wounded, that you bear the scars of fightin'; here's the luck o' heaven to you, here's the hand of love will brew you the cup of peace--ah, darlin', will you come back home?" she stood listening for a few moments, and, under the spell of the fresh, young voice, the homely, heart-searching words, and the intimate sweetness of the woods, the despairing apathy lifted slowly away. she started forwards again with a new understanding, her footsteps quickened. she would go to father bourassa. he would understand. she would tell him all. he would help her to do what now she knew she must do, ask leonard varley to save her husband's life--leonard varley to save her husband's life! when she stepped upon the veranda of the priest's house, she did not know that varley was inside. she had no time to think. she was ushered into the room where he was, with the confusing fact of his presence fresh upon her. she had had but a word or two with the priest, but enough for him to know what she meant to do, and that it must be done at once. varley advanced to meet her. she shuddered inwardly to think what a difference there was between the fallen creature she had left behind in the hospital and this tall, dark, self-contained man, whose name was familiar in the surgeries of europe, who had climbed from being the son of a clockmaker to his present distinguished place. "have you come for absolution, also?" he asked with a smile; "or is it to get a bill of excommunication against your only enemy--there couldn't be more than one?" cheerful as his words were, he was shrewdly observing her, for her paleness, and the strange light in her eyes, gave him a sense of anxiety. he wondered what trouble was on her. "excommunication?" he repeated. the unintended truth went home. she winced, even as she responded with that quaint note in her voice which gave humour to her speech. "yes, excommunication," she replied; "but why an enemy? do we not need to excommunicate our friends sometimes?" "that is a hard saying," he answered soberly. tears sprang to her eyes, but she mastered herself, and brought the crisis abruptly. "i want you to save a man's life," she said, with her eyes looking straight into his. "will you do it?" his face grew grave and eager. "i want you to save a man's happiness," he answered. "will you do it?" "that man yonder will die unless your skill saves him," she urged. "this man here will go away unhappy and alone, unless your heart befriends him," he replied, coming closer to her. "at sunrise to-morrow he goes." he tried to take her hand. "oh, please, please," she pleaded, with a quick, protesting gesture. "sunrise is far off, but the man's fate is near, and you must save him. you only can do so, for doctor hadley is away, and doctor brydon is sick, and in any case doctor brydon dare not attempt the operation alone. it is too critical and difficult, he says." "so i have heard," he answered, with a new note in his voice, his professional instinct roused in spite of himself. "who is this man? what interests you in him?" "to how many unknown people have you given your skill for nothing--your skill and all your experience to utter strangers, no matter how low or poor! is it not so? well, i cannot give to strangers what you have given to so many, but i can help in my own way." "you want me to see the man at once?" "if you will." "what is his name? i know of his accident and the circumstances." she hesitated for an instant, then said, "he is called draper--a trapper and woodsman." "but i was going away to-morrow at sunrise. all my arrangements are made," he urged, his eyes holding hers, his passion swimming in his eyes again. "but you will not see a man die, if you can save him?" she pleaded, unable now to meet his look, its mastery and its depth. her heart had almost leaped with joy at the suggestion that he could not stay; but as suddenly self-reproach and shame filled her mind, and she had challenged him so. but yet, what right had she to sacrifice this man she loved to the perverted criminal who had spoiled her youth and taken away from her every dear illusion of her life and heart? by every right of justice and humanity she was no more the wife of henry meydon than if she had never seen him. he had forfeited every claim upon her, dragged in the mire her unspotted life--unspotted, for in all temptation, in her defenceless position, she had kept the whole commandment; she had, while at the mercy of her own temperament, fought her way through all, with a weeping heart and laughing lips. had she not longed for a little home with a great love, and a strong, true man? ah, it had been lonely, bitterly lonely! yet she had remained true to the scoundrel, from whom she could not free herself without putting him in the grasp of the law to atone for his crime. she was punished for his crimes; she was denied the exercise of her womanhood in order to shield him. still she remembered that once she had loved him, those years ago, when he first won her heart from those so much better than he, who loved her so much more honestly; and this memory had helped her in a way. she had tried to be true to it, that dead, lost thing, of which this man who came once a year to see her, and now, lying with his life at stake in the hospital, was the repellent ghost. "ah, you will not see him die?" she urged. "it seems to move you greatly what happens to this man," he said, his determined dark eyes searching hers, for she baffled him. if she could feel so much for a, "casual," why not a little more feeling for him? suddenly, as he drew her eyes to him again, there came the conviction that they were full of feeling for him. they were sending a message, an appealing, passionate message, which told him more than he had ever heard from her or seen in her face before. yes, she was his! without a spoken word she had told him so. what, then, held her back? but women were a race by themselves, and he knew that he must wait till she chose to have him know what she had unintentionally conveyed but now. "yes, i am moved," she continued slowly. "who can tell what this man might do with his life, if it is saved! don't you think of that? it isn't the importance of a life that's at stake; it's the importance of living; and we do not live alone, do we?" his mind was made up. "i will not, cannot promise anything till i have seen him. but i will go and see him, and i'll send you word later what i can do, or not do. will that satisfy you? if i cannot do it, i will come to say good-by." her face was set with suppressed feeling. she held out her hand to him impulsively, and was about to speak, but suddenly caught the hand away again from his thrilling grasp and, turning hurriedly, left the room. in the hall she met father bourassa. "go with him to the hospital," she whispered, and disappeared through the doorway. immediately after she had gone, a man came driving hard to bring father bourassa to visit a dying catholic in the prairie, and it was finden who accompanied varley to the hospital, waited for him till his examination of the "casual" was concluded, and met him outside. "can it be done?" he asked of varley. "i'll take word to father bourassa." "it can be done--it will be done," answered varley absently. "i do not understand the man. he has been in a different sphere of life. he tried to hide it, but the speech--occasionally! i wonder." "you wonder if he's worth saving?" varley shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "no, that's not what i meant." finden smiled to himself. "is it a difficult case?" he asked. "critical and delicate; but it has been my specialty." "one of the local doctors couldn't do it, i suppose?" "they would be foolish to try." "and you are going away at sunrise to-morrow?" "who told you that?" varley's voice was abrupt, impatient. "i heard you say so-everybody knows it. . . . that's a bad man yonder, varley." he jerked his thumb towards the hospital. "a terrible bad man, he's been. a gentleman once, and fell down--fell down hard. he's done more harm than most men. he's broken a woman's heart and spoilt her life, and, if he lives, there's no chance for her, none at all. he killed a man, and the law wants him; and she can't free herself without ruining him; and she can't marry the man she loves because of that villain yonder, crying for his life to be saved. by josh and by joan, but it's a shame, a dirty shame, it is!" suddenly varley turned and gripped his arm with fingers of steel. "his name--his real name?" "his name's meydon--and a dirty shame it is, varley." varley was white. he had been leading his horse and talking to finden. he mounted quickly now, and was about to ride away, but stopped short again. "who knows--who knows the truth?" he asked. "father bourassa and me--no others," he answered. "i knew meydon thirty years ago." there was a moment's hesitation, then varley said hoarsely, "tell me-tell me all." when all was told, he turned his horse towards the wide waste of the prairie, and galloped away. finden watched him till he was lost to view beyond the bluff. "now, a man like that, you can't guess what he'll do," he said reflectively. "he's a high-stepper, and there's no telling what foolishness will get hold of him. it'd be safer if he got lost on the prairie for twenty-four hours. he said that meydon's only got twentyfour hours, if the trick isn't done! well--" he took a penny from his pocket. "i'll toss for it. heads he does it, and tails he doesn't." he tossed. it came down heads. "well, there's one more fool in the world than i thought," he said philosophically, as though he had settled the question; as though the man riding away into the prairie with a dark problem to be solved had told the penny what he meant to do. mrs. meydon, father bourassa, and finden stood in the little waiting-room of the hospital at jansen, one at each window, and watched the wild thunderstorm which had broken over the prairie. the white heliographs of the elements flashed their warnings across the black sky, and the roaring artillery of the thunder came after, making the circle of prairie and tree and stream a theatre of anger and conflict. the streets of jansen were washed with flood, and the green and gold things of garden and field and harvest crumbled beneath the sheets of rain. the faces at the window of the little room of the hospital, however, were but half-conscious of the storm; it seemed only an accompaniment of their thoughts, to typify the elements of tragedy surrounding them. for varley there had been but one thing to do. a life might be saved, and it was his duty to save it. he had ridden back from the prairie as the sun was setting the night before, and had made all arrangements at the hospital, giving orders that meydon should have no food whatever till the operation was performed the next afternoon, and nothing to drink except a little brandy-and-water. the operation was performed successfully, and varley had issued from the operating-room with the look of a man who had gone through an ordeal which had taxed his nerve to the utmost, to find valerie meydon waiting, with a piteous, dazed look in her eyes. but this look passed when she heard him say, "all right!" the words brought a sense of relief, for if he had failed it would have seemed almost unbearable in the circumstances--the cup of trembling must be drunk to the dregs. few words had passed between them, and he had gone, while she remained behind with father bourassa, till the patient should wake from the sleep into which he had fallen when varley left. but within two hours they sent for varley again, for meydon was in evident danger. varley had come, and had now been with the patient for some time. at last the door opened and varley came in quickly. he beckoned to mrs. meydon and to father bourassa. "he wishes to speak with you," he said to her. "there is little time." her eyes scarcely saw him, as she left the room and passed to where meydon lay nerveless, but with wide-open eyes, waiting for her. the eyes closed, however, before she reached the bed. presently they opened again, but the lids remained fixed. he did not hear what she said. ...................... in the little waiting-room, finden said to varley, "what happened?" "food was absolutely forbidden, but he got it from another patient early this morning while the nurse was out for a moment. it has killed him." "'twas the least he could do, but no credit's due him. it was to be. i'm not envying father bourassa nor her there with him." varley made no reply. he was watching the receding storm with eyes which told nothing. finden spoke once more, but varley did not hear him. presently the door opened and father bourassa entered. he made a gesture of the hand to signify that all was over. outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds upon the western prairie, and there floated through the evening air the sound of a child's voice singing beneath the trees that fringed the river: "will you come back, darlin'? never heed the pain and blightin', never trouble that you're wounded, that you bear the scars of fightin'; here's the luck o' heaven to you, here's the hand of love will brew you the cup of peace-ah, darlin', will you come back home?" watching the rise of orion "in all the wide border his steed was the best," and the name and fame of terence o'ryan were known from strathcona to qu'appelle. he had ambition of several kinds, and he had the virtue of not caring who knew of it. he had no guile, and little money; but never a day's work was too hard for him, and he took bad luck, when it came, with a jerk of the shoulder and a good-natured surprise on his clean-shaven face that suited well his wide grey eyes and large, luxurious mouth. he had an estate, half ranch, half farm, with a french canadian manager named vigon, an old prospector who viewed every foot of land in the world with the eye of the discoverer. gold, coal, iron, oil, he searched for them everywhere, making sure that sooner or later he would find them. once vigon had found coal. that was when he worked for a man called constantine jopp, and had given him great profit; but he, the discoverer, had been put off with a horse and a hundred dollars. he was now as devoted to terence o'ryan as he had been faithful to constantine jopp, whom he cursed waking and sleeping. in his time o'ryan had speculated, and lost; he had floated a coal mine, and "been had"; he had run for the local legislature, had been elected, and then unseated for bribery committed by an agent; he had run races at regina, and won--he had won for three years in succession; and this had kept him going and restored his finances when they were at their worst. he was, in truth, the best rider in the country, and, so far, was the owner also of the best three-year-old that the west had produced. he achieved popularity without effort. the west laughed at his enterprises and loved him; he was at once a public moral and a hero. it was a legend of the west that his forbears had been kings in ireland like brian borhoime. he did not contradict this; he never contradicted anything. his challenge to all fun and satire and misrepresentation was, "what'll be the differ a hundred years from now!" he did not use this phrase, however, towards one experience--the advent of miss molly mackinder, the heiress, and the challenge that reverberated through the west after her arrival. philosophy deserted him then; he fell back on the primary emotions of mankind. a month after miss mackinder's arrival at la touche a dramatic performance was given at the old fort, in which the officers of the mounted police took part, together with many civilians who fancied themselves. by that time the district had realised that terry o'ryan had surrendered to what they called "the laying on of hands" by molly mackinder. it was not certain, however, that the surrender was complete, because o'ryan had been wounded before, and yet had not been taken captive altogether. his complete surrender seemed now more certain to the public because the lady had a fortune of two hundred thousand dollars, and that amount of money would be useful to an ambitious man in the growing west. it would, as gow johnson said, "let him sit back and view the landscape o'er, before he puts his ploughshare in the mud." there was an outdoor scene in the play produced by the impetuous amateurs, and dialogue had been interpolated by three "imps of fame" at the suggestion of constantine jopp, one of the three, who bore malice towards o'ryan, though this his colleagues did not know distinctly. the scene was a camp-fire--a starlit night, a colloquy between the three, upon which the hero of the drama, played by terry o'ryan, should break, after having, unknown to them, but in sight of the audience, overheard their kind of intentions towards himself. the night came. when the curtain rose for the third act there was exposed a star-sown sky, in which the galaxy of orion was shown with distinctness, each star sharply twinkling from the electric power behinda pretty scene evoking great applause. o'ryan had never seen this back curtain--they had taken care that he should not--and, standing in the wings awaiting his cue, he was unprepared for the laughter of the audience, first low and uncertain, then growing, then insistent, and now a peal of ungovernable mirth, as one by one they understood the significance of the stars of orion on the back curtain. o'ryan got his cue, and came on to an outburst of applause which shook the walls. la touche rose at him, among them miss molly mackinder in the front row with the notables. he did not see the back curtain, or orion blazing in the ultramarine blue. according to the stage directions, he was to steal along the trees at the wings, and listen to the talk of the men at the fire plotting against him, who were presently to pretend good comradeship to his face. it was a vigorous melodrama with some touches of true western feeling. after listening for a moment, o'ryan was to creep up the stage again towards the back curtain, giving a cue for his appearance. when the hilarious applause at his entrance had somewhat subsided, the three took up their parable, but it was not the parable of the play. they used dialogue not in the original. it had a significance which the audience were not slow to appreciate, and went far to turn "the sunburst trail" at this point into a comedy-farce. when this new dialogue began, o'ryan could scarcely trust his ears, or realise what was happening. "ah, look," said dicky fergus at the fire, "as fine a night as ever i saw in the west! the sky's a picture. you could almost hand the stars down, they're so near." "what's that clump together on the right--what are they called in astronomy?" asked constantine jopp, with a leer. "orion is the name--a beauty, ain't it?" answered fergus. "i've been watching orion rise," said the third--holden was his name. "many's the time i've watched orion rising. orion's the star for me. say, he wipes 'em all out--right out. watch him rising now." by a manipulation of the lights orion moved up the back curtain slowly, and blazed with light nearer the zenith. and la touche had more than the worth of its money in this opening to the third act of the play. o'ryan was a favourite, at whom la touche loved to jeer, and the parable of the stars convulsed them. at the first words o'ryan put a hand on himself and tried to grasp the meaning of it all, but his entrance and the subsequent applause had confused him. presently, however, he turned to the back curtain, as orion moved slowly up the heavens, and found the key to the situation. he gasped. then he listened to the dialogue which had nothing to do with "the sunburst trail." "what did orion do, and why does he rise? has he got to rise? why was the gent called orion in them far-off days?" asked holden. "he did some hunting in his time--with a club," fergus replied. "he kept making hits, he did. orion was a spoiler. when he took the field there was no room for the rest of the race. why does he rise? because it is a habit. they could always get a rise out of orion. the athens eirenicon said that yeast might fail to rise, but touch the button and orion would rise like a bird." at that instant the galaxy jerked up the back curtain again, and when the audience could control itself, constantine jopp, grinning meanly, asked: "why does he wear the girdle?" "it is not a girdle--it is a belt," was dicky fergus's reply. "the gods gave it to him because he was a favourite. there was a lady called artemis--she was the last of them. but he went visiting with eos, another lady of previous acquaintance, down at a place called ortygia, and artemis shot him dead with a shaft apollo had given her; but she didn't marry apollo neither. she laid orion out on the sky, with his glittering belt, around him. and orion keeps on rising." "will he ever stop rising?" asked holden. followed for the conspirators a disconcerting moment; for, when the laughter had subsided, a lazy voice came from the back of the hall, "he'll stop long enough to play with apollo a little, i guess." it was gow johnson who had spoken, and no man knew terry o'ryan better, or could gauge more truly the course he would take. he had been in many an enterprise, many a brush with o'ryan, and his friendship would bear any strain. o'ryan recovered himself from the moment he saw the back curtain, and he did not find any fun in the thing. it took a hold on him out of all proportion to its importance. he realised that he had come to the parting of the ways in his life. it suddenly came upon him that something had been lacking in him in the past; and that his want of success in many things had not been wholly due to bad luck. he had been eager, enterprising, a genius almost at seeing good things; and yet others had reaped where he had sown. he had believed too much in his fellow-man. for the first time in his life he resented the friendly, almost affectionate satire of his many friends. it was amusing, it was delightful; but down beneath it all there was a little touch of ridicule. he had more brains than any of them, and he had known it in a way; he had led them sometimes, too, as on raids against cattle-stealers, and in a brush with half-breeds and indians; as when he stood for the legislature; but he felt now for the first time that he had not made the most of himself, that there was something hurting to self-respect in this prank played upon him. when he came to that point his resentment went higher. he thought of molly mackinder, and he heard all too acutely the vague veiled references to her in their satire. by the time gow johnson spoke he had mastered himself, however, and had made up his mind. he stood still for a moment. "now, please, my cue," he said quietly and satirically from the trees near the wings. he was smiling, but gow johnson's prognostication was right; and ere long the audience realised that he was right. there was standing before them not the terry o'ryan they had known, but another. he threw himself fully into his part--a young rancher made deputy sheriff, who by the occasional exercise of his duty had incurred the hatred of a small floating population that lived by fraud, violence, and cattle-stealing. the conspiracy was to raid his cattle, to lure him to pursuit, to ambush him, and kill him. terry now played the part with a naturalness and force which soon lifted the play away from the farcical element introduced into it by those who had interpolated the gibes at himself. they had gone a step too far. "he's going large," said gow johnson, as the act drew near its close, and the climax neared, where o'ryan was to enter upon a physical struggle with his assailants. "his blood's up. there'll be hell to pay." to gow johnson the play had instantly become real, and o'ryan an injured man at bay, the victim of the act--not of the fictitious characters of the play, but of the three men, fergus, holden, and constantine jopp, who had planned the discomfiture of o'ryan; and he felt that the victim's resentment would fall heaviest on constantine jopp, the bully, an old schoolmate of terry's. jopp was older than o'ryan by three years, which in men is little, but in boys, at a certain time of life, is much. it means, generally, weight and height, an advantage in a scrimmage. constantine jopp had been the plague and tyrant of o'ryan's boyhood. he was now a big, leering fellow with much money of his own, got chiefly from the coal discovered on his place by vigon, the half-breed french canadian. he had a sense of dark and malicious humour, a long horse-like face, with little beady eyes and a huge frame. again and again had terry fought him as a boy at school, and often he had been badly whipped, but he had never refused the challenge of an insult when he was twelve and jopp fifteen. the climax to their enmity at school had come one day when terry was seized with a cramp while bathing, and after having gone down twice was rescued by jopp, who dragged him out by the hair of the head. he had been restored to consciousness on the bank and carried to his home, where he lay ill for days. during the course of the slight fever which followed the accident his hair was cut close to his head. impetuous always, his first thought was to go and thank constantine jopp for having saved his life. as soon as he was able he went forth to find his rescuer, and met him suddenly on turning a corner of the street. before he could stammer out the gratitude that was in his heart, jopp, eyeing him with a sneering smile, said drawlingly: "if you'd had your hair cut like that i couldn't have got you out, could i? holy, what a sight! next time i'll take you by the scruff, puttyface--bah!" that was enough for terry. he had swallowed the insult, stuttered his thanks to the jeering laugh of the lank bully, and had gone home and cried in shame and rage. it was the one real shadow in his life. ill luck and good luck had been taken with an equable mind; but the fact that he must, while he lived, own the supreme debt of his life to a boy and afterwards to a man whom he hated by instinct was a constant cloud on him. jopp owned him. for some years they did not meet, and then at last they again were thrown together in the west, when jopp settled at la touche. it was gall and wormwood to terry, but he steeled himself to be friendly, although the man was as great a bully as the boy, as offensive in mind and character; but withal acute and able in his way, and with a reputation for commercial sharpness which would be called by another name in a different civilisation. they met constantly, and o'ryan always put a hand on himself, and forced himself to be friendly. once when jopp became desperately ill there had been--though he fought it down, and condemned himself in every term of reproach--a sense of relief in the thought that perhaps his ancient debt would now be cancelled. it had gone on so long. and constantine jopp had never lost an opportunity of vexing him, of torturing him, of giving veiled thrusts, which he knew o'ryan could not resent. it was the constant pin-prick of a mean soul, who had an advantage of which he could never be dispossessed--unless the ledger was balanced in some inscrutable way. apparently bent on amusement only, and hiding his hatred from his colleagues, jopp had been the instigator and begetter of the huge joke of the play; but it was the brains of dick fergus which had carried it out, written the dialogue, and planned the electric appliances of the back curtain--for he was an engineer and electrician. neither he nor holden had known the old antipathy of terry and constantine jopp. there was only one man who knew the whole truth, and that was gow johnson, to whom terry had once told all. at the last moment fergus had interpolated certain points in the dialogue which were not even included at rehearsal. these referred to apollo. he had a shrewd notion that jopp had an idea of marrying molly mackinder if he could, cousins though they were; and he was also aware that jopp, knowing molly's liking for terry, had tried to poison her mind against him, through suggestive gossip about a little widow at jansen, thirty miles away. he had in so far succeeded that, on the very day of the performance, molly had declined to be driven home from the race-course by terry, despite the fact that terry had won the chief race and owned the only dog-cart in the west. as the day went on fergus realised, as had gow johnson, that jopp had raised a demon. the air was electric. the play was drawing near to its climax--an attempt to capture the deputy sheriff, tie him to a tree, and leave him bound and gagged alone in the waste. there was a glitter in terry's eyes, belying the lips which smiled in keeping with the character he presented. a look of hardness was stamped on his face, and the outlines of the temples were as sharp as the chin was set and the voice slow and penetrating. molly mackinder's eyes were riveted on him. she sat very still, her hands clasped in her lap, watching his every move. instinct told her that terry was holding himself in; that some latent fierceness and iron force in him had emerged into life; and that he meant to have revenge on constantine jopp one way or another, and that soon; for she had heard the rumour flying through the hall that her cousin was the cause of the practical joke just played. from hints she had had from constantine that very day she knew that the rumour was the truth; and she recalled now with shrinking dislike the grimace accompanying the suggestion. she had not resented it then, being herself angry with terry because of the little widow at jansen. presently the silence in the hall became acute; the senses of the audience were strained to the utmost. the acting before them was more realistic than anything they had ever seen, or were ever likely to see again in la touche. all three conspirators, fergus, holden, and jopp, realised that o'ryan's acting had behind it an animal anger which transformed him. when he looked into their eyes it was with a steely directness harder and fiercer than was observed by the audience. once there was occasion for o'ryan to catch fergus by the arm, and fergus winced from the grip. when standing in the wings with terry he ventured to apologise playfully for the joke, but terry made no answer; and once again he had whispered good-naturedly as they stood together on the stage; but the reply had been a low, scornful laugh. fergus realised that a critical moment was at hand. the play provided for some dialogue between jopp and terry, and he observed with anxiety that terry now interpolated certain phrases meant to warn constantine, and to excite him to anger also. the moment came upon them sooner than the text of the play warranted. o'ryan deliberately left out several sentences, and gave a later cue, and the struggle for his capture was precipitated. terry meant to make the struggle real. so thrilling had been the scene that to an extent the audience was prepared for what followed; but they did not grasp the full reality--that the play was now only a vehicle for a personal issue of a desperate character. no one had ever seen o'ryan angry; and now that the demon of rage was on him, directed by a will suddenly grown to its full height, they saw not only a powerful character in a powerful melodrama, but a man of wild force. when the three desperadoes closed in on o'ryan, and, with a blow from the shoulder which was not a pretence, he sent holden into a far corner gasping for breath and moaning with pain, the audience broke out into wild cheering. it was superb acting, they thought. as most of them had never seen the play, they were not surprised when holden did not again join the attack on the deputy sheriff. those who did know the drama--among them molly mackinder-became dismayed, then anxious. fergus and jopp knew well from the blow o'ryan had given that, unless they could drag him down, the end must be disaster to some one. they were struggling with him for personal safety now. the play was forgotten, though mechanically o'ryan and fergus repeated the exclamations and the few phrases belonging to the part. jopp was silent, fighting with a malice which belongs to only half-breed, or half-bred, natures; and from far back in his own nature the distant indian strain in him was working in savage hatred. the two were desperately hanging on to o'ryan like pumas on a grizzly, when suddenly, with a twist he had learned from ogami the jap on the smoky river, the slim fergus was slung backward to the ground with the tendons of his arm strained and the arm itself useless for further work. there remained now constantine jopp, heavier and more powerful than o'ryan. for o'ryan the theatre, the people, disappeared. he was a boy again on the village green, with the bully before him who had tortured his young days. he forgot the old debt to the foe who saved his life; he forgot everything, except that once again, as of old, constantine jopp was fighting him, with long, strong arms trying to bring him to the ground. jopp's superior height gave him an advantage in a close grip; the strength of his gorilla-like arms was difficult to withstand. both were forgetful of the world, and the two other injured men, silent and awed, were watching the, fight, in which one of them, at least, was powerless to take part. the audience was breathless. most now saw the grim reality of the scene before them; and when at last o'ryan's powerful right hand got a grip upon the throat of jopp, and they saw the grip tighten, tighten, and jopp's face go from red to purple, a hundred people gasped. excited men made as though to move toward the stage; but the majority still believed that it all belonged to the play, and shouted "sit down!" suddenly the voice of gow johnson was heard "don't kill him--let go, boy!" the voice rang out with sharp anxiety, and pierced the fog of passion and rage in which o'ryan was moving. he realised what he was doing, the real sense of it came upon him. suddenly he let go the lank throat of his enemy, and, by a supreme effort, flung him across the stage, where jopp lay resting on his hands, his bleared eyes looking at terry with the fear and horror still in them which had come with that tightening grip on his throat. silence fell suddenly on the theatre. the audience was standing. a woman sobbed somewhere in a far corner, but the rest were dismayed and speechless. a few steps before them all was molly mackinder, white and frightened, but in her eyes was a look of understanding as she gazed at terry. breathing hard, terry stood still in the middle of the stage, the red fog not yet gone out of his eyes, his hands clasped at his side, vaguely realising the audience again. behind him was the back curtain in which the lights of orion twinkled aggressively. the three men who had attacked him were still where he had thrown them. the silence was intense, the strain oppressive. but now a drawling voice came from the back of the hall. "are you watching the rise of orion?" it said. it was the voice of gow johnson. the strain was broken; the audience dissolved in laughter; but it was not hilarious; it was the nervous laughter of relief, touched off by a native humour always present in the dweller of the prairie. "i beg your pardon," said terry quietly and abstractedly to the audience. and the scene-shifter bethought himself and let down the curtain. the fourth act was not played that night. the people had had more than the worth of their money. in a few moments the stage was crowded with people from the audience, but both jopp and o'ryan had disappeared. among the visitors to the stage was molly mackinder. there was a meaning smile upon her face as she said to dicky fergus: "it was quite wonderful, wasn't it--like a scene out of the classics--the gladiators or something?" fergus gave a wary smile as he answered: "yes. i felt like saying ave caesar, ave! and i watched to see artemis drop her handkerchief." "she dropped it, but you were too busy to pick it up. it would have been a useful sling for your arm," she added with thoughtful malice. "it seemed so real--you all acted so well, so appropriately. and how you keep it up!" she added, as he cringed when some one knocked against his elbow, hurting the injured tendons. fergus looked at her meditatively before he answered. "oh, i think we'll likely keep it up for some time," he rejoined ironically. "then the play isn't finished?" she added. "there is another act? yes, i thought there was, the programme said four." "oh yes, there's another act," he answered, "but it isn't to be played now; and i'm not in it." "no, i suppose you are not in it. you really weren't in the last act. who will be in it?" fergus suddenly laughed outright, as he looked at holden expostulating intently to a crowd of people round him. "well, honour bright, i don't think there'll be anybody in it except little conny jopp and gentle terry o'ryan; and conny mayn't be in it very long. but he'll be in it for a while, i guess. you see, the curtain came down in the middle of a situation, not at the end of it. the curtain has to rise again." "perhaps orion will rise again--you think so?" she laughed in satire; for dicky fergus had made love to her during the last three months with unsuppressed activity, and she knew him in his sentimental moments; which is fatal. it is fatal if, in a duet, one breathes fire and the other frost. "if you want my opinion," he said in a lower voice, as they moved towards the door, while people tried to listen to them--"if you want it straight, i think orion has risen--right up where shines the evening star--oh, say, now," he broke off, "haven't you had enough fun out of me? i tell you, it was touch and go. he nearly broke my arm--would have done it, if i hadn't gone limp to him; and your cousin conny jopp, little conny jopp, was as near kingdom come as a man wants at his age. i saw an elephant go 'must' once in india, and it was as like o'ryan as putty is to dough. it isn't all over either, for o'ryan will forget and forgive, and jopp won't. he's your cousin, but he's a sulker. if he has to sit up nights to do it, he'll try to get back on o'ryan. he'll sit up nights, but he'll do it, if he can. and whatever it is, it won't be pretty." outside the door they met gow johnson, excitement in his eyes. he heard fergus's last words. "he'll see orion rising if he sits up nights," gow johnson said. "the game is with terry--at last." then he called to the dispersing gossiping crowd: "hold on--hold on, you people. i've got news for you. folks, this is o'ryan's night. it's his in the starry firmament. look at him shine," he cried, stretching out his arm towards the heavens, where the glittering galaxy hung near the zenith. "terry o'ryan, our o'ryan--he's struck oil--on his ranch it's been struck. old vigon found it. terry's got his own at last. o'ryan's in it--in it alone. now, let's hear the prairie-whisper," he shouted, in a great raucous voice. "let's hear the prairie-whisper. what is it?" the crowd responded in a hoarse shout for o'ryan and his fortune. even the women shouted--all except molly mackinder. she was wondering if o'ryan risen would be the same to her as o'ryan rising. she got into her carriage with a sigh, though she said to the few friends with her: "if it's true, it's splendid. he deserves it too. oh, i'm glad--i'm so glad." she laughed; but the laugh was a little hysterical. she was both glad and sorry. yet as she drove home over the prairie she was silent. far off in the east was a bright light. it was a bonfire built on o'ryan's ranch, near where he had struck oil--struck it rich. the light grew and grew, and the prairie was alive with people hurrying towards it. la touche should have had the news hours earlier, but the half-breed french-canadian, vigon, who had made the discovery, and had started for la touche with the news, went suddenly off his head with excitement, and had ridden away into the prairie fiercely shouting his joy to an invisible world. the news had been brought in later by a farmhand. terry o'ryan had really struck oil, and his ranch was a scene of decent revelry, of which gow johnson was master. but the central figure of it all, the man who had, in truth, risen like a star, had become to la touche all at once its notoriety as well as its favourite, its great man as well as its friend, he was nowhere to be found. he had been seen riding full speed into the prairie towards the kourmash wood, and the starlit night had swallowed him. constantine jopp had also disappeared; but at first no one gave that thought or consideration. as the night went on, however, a feeling began to stir which it is not good to rouse in frontier lands. it is sure to exhibit itself in forms more objective than are found in great populations where methods of punishment are various, and even when deadly are often refined. but society in new places has only limited resources, and is thrown back on primary ways and means. la touche was no exception, and the keener spirits, to whom o'ryan had ever been "a white man," and who so rejoiced in his good luck now that they drank his health a hundred times in his own whiskey and cider, were simmering with desire for a public reproval of constantine jopp's conduct. though it was pointed out to them by the astute gow johnson that fergus and holden had participated in the colossal joke of the play, they had learned indirectly also the whole truth concerning the past of the two men. they realised that fergus and holden had been duped by jopp into the escapade. their primitive sense of justice exonerated the humourists and arraigned the one malicious man. as the night wore on they decided on the punishment to be meted out by la touche to the man who had not "acted on the square." gow johnson saw, too late, that he had roused a spirit as hard to appease as the demon roused in o'ryan earlier in the evening. he would have enjoyed the battue of punishment under ordinary circumstances; but he knew that miss molly mackinder would be humiliated and indignant at the half-savage penalty they meant to exact. he had determined that o'ryan should marry her; and this might be an obstruction in the path. it was true that o'ryan now would be a rich man--one of the richest in the west, unless all signs failed; but meanwhile a union of fortunes would only be an added benefit. besides, he had seen that o'ryan was in earnest, and what o'ryan wanted he himself wanted even more strongly. he was not concerned greatly for o'ryan's absence. he guessed that terry had ridden away into the night to work off the dark spirit that was on him, to have it out with himself. gow johnson was a philosopher. he was twenty years older than o'ryan, and he had studied his friend as a pious monk his missal. he was right in his judgment. when terry left the theatre he was like one in a dream, every nerve in his body at tension, his head aflame, his pulses throbbing. for miles he rode away into the waste along the northern trail, ever away from la touche and his own home. he did not know of the great good fortune that had come to him; and if, in this hour, he had known, he would not have cared. as he rode on and on remorse drew him into its grasp. shame seized him that he had let passion be his master, that he had lost his self-control, had taken a revenge out of all proportion to the injury and insult to himself. it did not ease his mind that he knew constantine jopp had done the thing out of meanness and malice; for he was alive to-night in the light of the stars, with the sweet crisp air blowing in his face, because of an act of courage on the part of his schooldays' foe. he remembered now that, when he was drowning, he had clung to jopp with frenzied arms and had endangered the bully's life also. the long torture of owing this debt to so mean a soul was on him still, was rooted in him; but suddenly, in the silent searching night, some spirit whispered in his ear that this was the price which he must pay for his life saved to the world, a compromise with the inexorable thing. on the verge of oblivion and the end, he had been snatched back by relenting fate, which requires something for something given, when laws are overridden and doom defeated. yes, the price he was meant to pay was gratitude to one of shrivelled soul and innate antipathy; and he had not been man enough to see the trial through to the end! with a little increased strain put upon his vanity and pride he had run amuck. like some heathen gladiator he had ravaged in the ring. he had gone down into the basements of human life and there made a cockpit for his animal rage, till, in the contest, brain and intellect had been saturated by the fumes and sweat of fleshly fury. how quiet the night was, how soothing to the fevered mind and body, how the cool air laved the heated head and flushed the lungs of the rheum of passion! he rode on and on, farther and farther away from home, his back upon the scenes where his daily deeds were done. it was long past midnight before he turned his horse's head again homeward. buried in his thoughts, now calm and determined, with a new life grown up in him, a new strength different from the mastering force which gave him a strength in the theatre like one in delirium, he noticed nothing. he was only conscious of the omniscient night and its warm penetrating friendliness; as, in a great trouble, when no words can be spoken, a cool kind palm steals into the trembling hand of misery and stills it, gives it strength and life and an even pulse. he was now master in the house of his soul, and had no fear or doubt as to the future, or as to his course. his first duty was to go to constantine jopp, and speak his regret like a man. and after that it would be his duty to carry a double debt his life long for the life saved, for the wrong done. he owed an apology to la touche, and he was scarcely aware that the native gentlemanliness in him had said through his fever of passion over the footlights: "i beg your pardon." in his heart he felt that he had offered a mean affront to every person present, to the town where his interests lay, where his heart lay. where his heart lay--molly mackinder! he knew now that vanity had something to do, if not all to do, with his violent acts, and though there suddenly shot through his mind, as he rode back, a savage thrill at the remembrance of how he had handled the three, it was only a passing emotion. he was bent on putting himself right with jopp and with la touche. with the former his way was clear; he did not yet see his way as to la touche. how would he be able to make the amende honorable to la touche? by and by he became somewhat less absorbed and enveloped by the comforting night. he saw the glimmer of red light afar, and vaguely wondered what it was. it was in the direction of o'ryan's ranch, but he thought nothing of it, because it burned steadily. it was probably a fire lighted by settlers trailing to the farther north. while the night wore on he rode as slowly back to the town as he had galloped from it like a centaur with a captive. again and again molly mackinder's face came before him; but he resolutely shut it out of his thoughts. he felt that he had no right to think of her until he had "done the right thing" by jopp and by la touche. yet the look in her face as the curtain came down, it was not that of one indifferent to him or to what he did. he neared the town half-way between midnight and morning. almost unconsciously avoiding the main streets, he rode a roundabout way towards the little house where constantine jopp lived. he could hear loud noises in the streets, singing, and hoarse shouts. then silence came, then shouts, and silence again. it was all quiet as he rode up to jopp's house, standing on the outskirts of the town. there was a bright light in the window of a room. jopp, then, was still up. he would not wait till tomorrow. he would do the right thing now. he would put things straight with his foe before he slept; he would do it at any sacrifice to his pride. he had conquered his pride. he dismounted, threw the bridle over a post, and, going into the garden, knocked gently at the door. there was no response. he knocked again, and listened intently. now he heard a sound-like a smothered cry or groan. he opened the door quickly and entered. it was dark. in another room beyond was a light. from it came the same sound he had heard before, but louder; also there was a shuffling footstep. springing forward to the half-open door, he pushed it wide, and met the terrorstricken eyes of constantine jopp--the same look that he had seen at the theatre when his hands were on jopp's throat, but more ghastly. jopp was bound to a chair by a lasso. both arms were fastened to the chair-arm, and beneath them, on the floor, were bowls into which blood dripped from his punctured wrists. he had hardly taken it all in--the work of an instant--when he saw crouched in a corner, madness in his eyes, his half-breed vigon. he grasped the situation in a flash. vigon had gone mad, had lain in wait in jopp's house, and when the man he hated had seated himself in the chair, had lassoed him, bound him, and was slowly bleeding him to death. he had no time to think. before he could act vigon was upon him also, frenzy in his eyes, a knife clutched in his hand. reason had fled, and he only saw in o'ryan the frustrator of his revenge. he had watched the drip, drip from his victim's wrists with a dreadful joy. they were man and man, but o'ryan found in this grisly contest a vaster trial of strength than in the fight upon the stage a few hours ago. the first lunge that vigon made struck him on the tip of the shoulder, and drew blood; but he caught the hand holding the knife in an iron grasp, while the half-breed, with superhuman strength, tried in vain for the long brown throat of the man for whom he had struck oil. as they struggled and twisted, the eyes of the victim in the chair watched them with agonised emotions. for him it was life or death. he could not cry out--his mouth was gagged; but to o'ryan his groans were like a distant echo of his own hoarse gasps as he fought his desperate fight. terry was as one in an awful dream battling with vague impersonal powers which slowly strangled his life, yet held him back in torture from the final surrender. for minutes they struggled. at last o'ryan's strength came to the point of breaking, for vigon was a powerful man, and to this was added a madman's energy. he felt that the end was coming. but all at once, through the groans of the victim in the chair, terry became conscious of noises outside--such noises as he had heard before he entered the house, only nearer and louder. at the same time he heard a horse's hoofs, then a knock at the door, and a voice calling: "jopp! jopp!" he made a last desperate struggle, and shouted hoarsely. an instant later there were footsteps in the room, followed by a cry of fright and amazement. it was gow johnson. he had come to warn constantine jopp that a crowd were come to tar and feather him, and to get him away on his own horse. now he sprang to the front door, called to the approaching crowd for help, then ran back to help o'ryan. a moment later a dozen men had vigon secure, and had released constantine jopp, now almost dead from loss of blood. as they took the gag from his mouth and tied their handkerchiefs round his bleeding wrists, jopp sobbed aloud. his eyes were fixed on terry o'ryan. terry met the look, and grasped the limp hand lying on the chair-arm. "i'm sorry, o'ryan, i'm sorry for all i've done to you," jopp sobbed. "i was a sneak, but i want to own it. i want to be square now. you can tar and feather me, if you like. i deserve it." he looked at the others. "i deserve it," he repeated. "that's what the boys had thought would be appropriate," said gow johnson with a dry chuckle, and the crowd looked at each other and winked. the wink was kindly, however. "to own up and take your gruel" was the easiest way to touch the men of the prairie. a half-hour later the roisterers, who had meant to carry constantine jopp on a rail, carried terry o'ryan on their shoulders through the town, against his will. as they passed the house where miss mackinder lived some one shouted: "are you watching the rise of orion?" many a time thereafter terry o'ryan and molly mackinder looked at the galaxy in the evening sky with laughter and with pride. it had played its part with fate against constantine jopp and the little widow at jansen. it had never shone so brightly as on the night when vigon struck oil on o'ryan's ranch. but vigon had no memory of that. such is the irony of life. etext editor's bookmarks: babbling covers a lot of secrets beneath it all there was a little touch of ridicule what'll be the differ a hundred years from now this ebook was produced by david widger <widger@cecomet.net> [note: there is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an entire meal of them. d.w.] northern lights by gilbert parker volume 2. to-morrow qu'appelle the stake and the plumb-line to-morrow "my, nothing's the matter with the world to-day! it's so good it almost hurts." she raised her head from the white petticoat she was ironing, and gazed out of the doorway and down the valley with a warm light in her eyes and a glowing face. the snow-tipped mountains far above and away, the fircovered, cedar-ranged foothills, and, lower down, the wonderful maple and ash woods, with their hundred autumn tints, all merging to one soft, red tone, the roar of the stream tumbling down the ravine from the heights, the air that braced the nerves--it all seemed to be part of her, the passion of life corresponding to the passion of living in her. after watching the scene dreamily for a moment, she turned and laid the iron she had been using upon the hot stove near. taking up another, she touched it with a moistened finger to test the heat, and, leaning above the table again, passed it over the linen for a few moments, smiling at something that was in her mind. presently she held the petticoat up, turned it round, then hung it in front of her, eyeing it with critical pleasure. "to-morrow!" she said, nodding at it. "you won't be seen, i suppose, but i'll know you're nice enough for a queen--and that's enough to know." she blushed a little, as though someone had heard her words and was looking at her, then she carefully laid the petticoat over the back of a chair. "no queen's got one whiter, if i do say it," she continued, tossing her head. in that, at any rate, she was right, for the water of the mountain springs was pure, the air was clear, and the sun was clarifying; and little ornamented or frilled as it was, the petticoat was exquisitely soft and delicate. it would have appealed to more eyes than a woman's. "to-morrow!" she nodded at it again and turned again to the bright world outside. with arms raised and hands resting against the timbers of the doorway, she stood dreaming. a flock of pigeons passed with a whir not far away, and skirted the woods making down the valley. she watched their flight abstractedly, yet with a subconscious sense of pleasure. life--they were life, eager, buoyant, belonging to this wild region, where still the heart could feel so much at home, where the great world was missed so little. suddenly, as she gazed, a shot rang out down the valley, and two of the pigeons came tumbling to the ground, a stray feather floating after. with a startled exclamation she took a step forward. her brain became confused and disturbed. she had looked out on eden, and it had been ravaged before her eyes. she had been thinking of to-morrow, and this vast prospect of beauty and serenity had been part of the pageant in which it moved. not the valley alone had been marauded, but that "tomorrow," and all it meant to her. instantly the valley had become clouded over for her, its glory and its grace despoiled. she turned back to the room where the white petticoat lay upon the chair, but stopped with a little cry of alarm. a man was standing in the centre of the room. he had entered stealthily by the back door, and had waited for her to turn round. he was haggard and travel stained, and there was a feverish light in his eyes. his fingers trembled as they adjusted his belt, which seemed too large for him. mechanically he buckled it tighter. "you're jenny long, ain't you?" he asked. "i beg pardon for sneakin' in like this, but they're after me, some ranchers and a constable--one o' the riders of the plains. i've been tryin' to make this house all day. you're jenny long, ain't you?" she had plenty of courage, and, after the first instant of shock, she had herself in hand. she had quickly observed his condition, had marked the candour of the eye and the decision and character of the face, and doubt of him found no place in her mind. she had the keen observation of the dweller in lonely places, where every traveller has the potentialities of a foe, while the door of hospitality is opened to him after the custom of the wilds. year in, year out, since she was a little girl and came to live here with her uncle sanger when her father died--her mother had gone before she could speak--travellers had halted at this door, going north or coming south, had had bite and sup, and bed, may be, and had passed on, most of them never to be seen again. more than that, too, there had been moments of peril, such as when, alone, she had faced two woodthieves with a revolver, as they were taking her mountain-pony with them, and herself had made them "hands-up," and had marched them into a prospector's camp five miles away. she had no doubt about the man before her. whatever he had done, it was nothing dirty or mean--of that she was sure. "yes, i'm jenny long," she answered. "what have you done? what are they after you for?" "oh! to-morrow," he answered, "to-morrow i got to git to bindon. it's life or death. i come from prospecting two hundred miles up north. i done it in two days and a half. my horse dropped dead--i'm near dead myself. i tried to borrow another horse up at clancey's, and at scotton's drive, but they didn't know me, and they bounced me. so i borrowed a horse off weigall's paddock, to make for here--to you. i didn't mean to keep that horse. hell, i'm no horse-stealer! but i couldn't explain to them, except that i had to git to bindon to save a man's life. if people laugh in your face, it's no use explainin'. i took a roan from weigall's, and they got after me. 'bout six miles up they shot at me an' hurt me." she saw that one arm hung limp at his side and that his wrist was wound with a red bandana. she started forward. "are you hurt bad? can i bind it up or wash it for you? i've got plenty of hot water here, and it's bad letting a wound get stale." he shook his head. "i washed the hole clean in the creek below. i doubled on them. i had to go down past your place here, and then work back to be rid of them. but there's no telling when they'll drop on to the game, and come back for me. my only chance was to git to you. even if i had a horse, i couldn't make bindon in time. it's two days round the gorge by trail. a horse is no use now--i lost too much time since last night. i can't git to bindon to-morrow in time, if i ride the trail." "the river?" she asked abruptly. "it's the only way. it cuts off fifty mile. that's why i come to you." she frowned a little, her face became troubled, and her glance fell on his arm nervously. "what've i got to do with it?" she asked almost sharply. "even if this was all right,"--he touched the wounded arm--" i couldn't take the rapids in a canoe. i don't know them, an' it would be sure death. that's not the worst, for there's a man at bindon would lose his life--p'r'aps twenty men--i dunno; but one man sure. to-morrow, it's go or stay with him. he was good--lord, but he was good!--to my little gal years back. she'd only been married to me a year when he saved her, riskin' his own life. no one else had the pluck. my little gal, only twenty she was, an' pretty as a picture, an' me fifty miles away when the fire broke out in the hotel where she was. he'd have gone down to hell for a friend, an' he saved my little gal. i had her for five years after that. that's why i got to git to bindon to-morrow. if i don't, i don't want to see to-morrow. i got to go down the river to-night." she knew what he was going to ask her. she knew he was thinking what all the north knew, that she was the first person to take the dog nose rapids in a canoe, down the great river scarce a stone's-throw from her door; and that she had done it in safety many times. not in all the west and north were there a half-dozen people who could take a canoe to bindon, and they were not here. she knew that he meant to ask her to paddle him down the swift stream with its murderous rocks, to bindon. she glanced at the white petticoat on the chair, and her lips tightened. to-morrowtomorrow was as much to her here as it would be to this man before her, or the man he would save at bindon. "what do you want?" she asked, hardening her heart. "can't you see? i want you to hide me here till tonight. there's a full moon, an' it would be as plain goin' as by day. they told me about you up north, and i said to myself, 'if i git to jenny long, an' tell her about my friend at bindon, an' my little gal, she'll take me down to bindon in time.' my little gal would have paid her own debt if she'd ever had the chance. she didn't--she's lying up on mazy mountain. but one woman'll do a lot for the sake of another woman. say, you'll do it, won't you? if i don't git there by to-morrow noon, it's no good." she would not answer. he was asking more than he knew. why should she be sacrificed? was it her duty to pay the "little gal's debt," to save the man at bindon? to-morrow was to be the great day in her own life. the one man in all the world was coming to marry her to-morrow. after four years' waiting, after a bitter quarrel in which both had been to blame, he was coming from the mining town of selby to marry her tomorrow. "what will happen? why will your friend lose his life if you don't get to bindon?" "by noon to-morrow, by twelve o'clock noon; that's the plot; that's what they've schemed. three days ago, i heard. i got a man free from trouble north--he was no good, but i thought he ought to have another chance, and i got him free. he told me of what was to be done at bindon. there'd been a strike in the mine, an' my friend had took it in hand with knuckle-dusters on. he isn't the kind to fell a tree with a jack-knife. then three of the strikers that had been turned away--they was the ringleaders--they laid a plan that'd make the devil sick. they've put a machine in the mine, an' timed it, an' it'll go off when my friend comes out of the mine at noon to-morrow." her face was pale now, and her eyes had a look of pain and horror. her man--him that she was to marry--was the head of a mine also at selby, forty miles beyond bindon, and the horrible plot came home to her with piercing significance. "without a second's warning," he urged, "to go like that, the man that was so good to my little gal, an' me with a chance to save him, an' others too, p'r'aps. you won't let it be. say, i'm pinnin' my faith to you. i'm--" suddenly he swayed. she caught him, held him, and lowered him gently in a chair. presently he opened his eyes. "it's want o' food, i suppose," he said. "if you've got a bit of bread and meat--i must keep up." she went to a cupboard, but suddenly turned towards him again. her ears had caught a sound outside in the underbush. he had heard also, and he half staggered to his feet. "quick-in here!" she said, and, opening a door, pushed him inside. "lie down on my bed, and i'll bring you vittles as quick as i can," she added. then she shut the door, turned to the ironing-board, and took up the iron, as the figure of a man darkened the doorway. "hello, jinny, fixin' up for to-morrow?" the man said, stepping inside, with a rifle under his arm and some pigeons in his hand. she nodded and gave him an impatient, scrutinising glance. his face had a fatuous kind of smile. "been celebrating the pigeons?" she asked drily, jerking her head towards the two birds, which she had seen drop from her eden skies a short time before. "i only had one swig of whiskey, honest injun!" he answered. "i s'pose i might have waited till to-morrow, but i was dead-beat. i got a bear over by the tenmile reach, and i was tired. i ain't so young as i used to be, and, anyhow, what's the good! what's ahead of me? you're going to git married to-morrow after all these years we bin together, and you're going down to selby from the mountains, where i won't see you, not once in a blue moon. only that old trollop, mother massy, to look after me." "come down to selby and live there. you'll be welcome by jake and me." he stood his gun in the corner and, swinging the pigeons in his hand, said: "me live out of the mountains? don't you know better than that? i couldn't breathe; and i wouldn't want to breathe. i've got my shack here, i got my fur business, and they're still fond of whiskey up north!" he chuckled to himself, as he thought of the illicit still farther up the mountain behind them. "i make enough to live on, and i've put a few dollars by, though i won't have so many after to-morrow, after i've given you a little pile, jinny." "p'r'aps there won't be any to-morrow, as you expect," she said slowly. the old man started. "what, you and jake ain't quarrelled again? you ain't broke it off at the last moment, same as before? you ain't had a letter from jake?" he looked at the white petticoat on the chairback, and shook his head in bewilderment. "i've had no letter," she answered. "i've had no letter from selby for a month. it was all settled then, and there was no good writing, when he was coming to-morrow with the minister and the licence. who do you think'd be postman from selby here? it must have cost him ten dollars to send the last letter." "then what's the matter? i don't understand," the old man urged querulously. he did not want her to marry and leave him, but he wanted no more troubles; he did not relish being asked awkward questions by every mountaineer he met, as to why jenny long didn't marry jake lawson. "there's only one way that i can be married tomorrow," she said at last, "and that's by you taking a man down the dog nose rapids to bindon tonight." he dropped the pigeons on the floor, dumbfounded. "what in--" he stopped short, in sheer incapacity, to go further. jenny had not always been easy to understand, but she was wholly incomprehensible now. she picked up the pigeons and was about to speak, but she glanced at the bedroom door, where her exhausted visitor had stretched himself on her bed, and beckoned her uncle to another room. "there's a plate of vittles ready for you in there," she said. "i'll tell you as you eat." he followed her into the little living-room adorned by the trophies of his earlier achievements with gun and rifle, and sat down at the table, where some food lay covered by a clean white cloth. "no one'll ever look after me as you've done, jinny," he said, as he lifted the cloth and saw the palatable dish ready for him. then he remembered again about to-morrow and the dog nose rapids. "what's it all about, jinny? what's that about my canoeing a man down to bindon?" "eat, uncle," she said more softly than she had yet spoken, for his words about her care of him had brought a moisture to her eyes. "i'll be back in a minute and tell you all about it." "well, it's about took away my appetite," he said. "i feel a kind of sinking." he took from his pocket a bottle, poured some of its contents into a tin cup, and drank it off. "no, i suppose you couldn't take a man down to bindon," she said, as she saw his hand trembling on the cup. then she turned and entered the other room again. going to the cupboard, she hastily heaped a plate with food, and, taking a dipper of water from a pail near by, she entered her bedroom hastily and placed what she had brought on a small table, as her visitor rose slowly from the bed. he was about to speak, but she made a protesting gesture. "i can't tell you anything yet," she said. "who was it come?" he asked. "my uncle--i'm going to tell him." "the men after me may git here any minute," he urged anxiously. "they'd not be coming into my room," she answered, flushing slightly. "can't you hide me down by the river till we start?" he asked, his eyes eagerly searching her face. he was assuming that she would take him down the river: but she gave no sign. "i've got to see if he'll take you first," she answered. "he--your uncle, tom sanger? he drinks, i've heard. he'd never git to bindon." she did not reply directly to his words. "i'll come back and tell you. there's a place you could hide by the river where no one could ever find you," she said, and left the room. as she stepped out, she saw the old man standing in the doorway of the other room. his face was petrified with amazement. "who you got in that room, jinny? what man you got in that room? i heard a man's voice. is it because o' him that you bin talkin' about no weddin' to-morrow? is it one o' the others come back, puttin' you off jake again?" her eyes flashed fire at his first words, and her breast heaved with anger, but suddenly she became composed again and motioned him to a chair. "you eat, and i'll tell you all about it, uncle tom," she said, and, seating herself at the table also, she told him the story of the man who must go to bindon. when she had finished, the old man blinked at her for a minute without speaking, then he said slowly: "i heard something 'bout trouble down at bindon yisterday from a hudson's bay man goin' north, but i didn't take it in. you've got a lot o' sense, jinny, an' if you think he's tellin' the truth, why, it goes; but it's as big a mixup as a lariat in a steer's horns. you've got to hide him sure, whoever he is, for i wouldn't hand an eskimo over, if i'd taken him in my home once; we're mountain people. a man ought to be hung for horse-stealin', but this was different. he was doing it to save a man's life, an' that man at bindon was good to his little gal, an' she's dead." he moved his head from side to side with the air of a sentimental philosopher. he had all the vanity of a man who had been a success in a small, shrewd, culpable way--had he not evaded the law for thirty years with his whiskey-still? "i know how he felt," he continued. "when betsy died--we was only four years married--i could have crawled into a knot-hole an' died there. you got to save him, jinny, but"--he came suddenly to his feet--"he ain't safe here. they might come any minute, if they've got back on his trail. i'll take him up the gorge. you know where." "you sit still, uncle tom," she rejoined. "leave him where he is a minute. there's things must be settled first. they ain't going to look for him in my bedroom, be they?" the old man chuckled. "i'd like to see 'em at it. you got a temper, jinny; and you got a pistol too, eh?" he chuckled again. "as good a shot as any in the mountains. i can see you darin' 'em to come on. but what if jake come, and he found a man in your bedroom"--he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes--"why, jinny--!" he stopped short, for there was anger in her face. "i don't want to hear any more of that. i do what i want to do," she snapped out. "well, well, you always done what you wanted; but we got to git him up the hills, till it's sure they're out o' the mountains and gone back. it'll be days, mebbe." "uncle tom, you've took too much to drink," she answered. "you don't remember he's got to be at bindon by to-morrow noon. he's got to save his friend by then." "pshaw! who's going to take him down the river to-night? you're goin' to be married to-morrow. if you like, you can give him the canoe. it'll never come back, nor him neither!" "you've been down with me," she responded suggestively. "and you went down once by yourself." he shook his head. "i ain't been so well this summer. my sight ain't what it was. i can't stand the racket as i once could. 'pears to me i'm gettin' old. no, i couldn't take them rapids, jinny, not for one frozen minute." she looked at him with trouble in her eyes, and her face lost some of its colour. she was fighting back the inevitable, even as its shadow fell upon her. "you wouldn't want a man to die, if you could save him, uncle tom--blown up, sent to kingdom come without any warning at all; and perhaps he's got them that love him--and the world so beautiful." "well, it ain't nice dyin' in the summer, when it's all sun, and there's plenty everywhere; but there's no one to go down the river with him. what's his name?" her struggle was over. she had urged him, but in very truth she was urging herself all the time, bringing herself to the axe of sacrifice. "his name's dingley. i'm going down the river with him--down to bindon." the old man's mouth opened in blank amazement. his eyes blinked helplessly. "what you talkin' about, jinny! jake's comin' up with the minister, an' you're goin' to be married at noon to-morrow." "i'm takin' him"--she jerked her head towards the room where dingley was --"down dog nose rapids to-night. he's risked his life for his friend, thinkin' of her that's dead an' gone, and a man's life is a man's life. if it was jake's life in danger, what'd i think of a woman that could save him, and didn't?" "onct you broke off with jake lawson--the day before you was to be married; an' it's took years to make up an' agree again to be spliced. if jake comes here to-morrow, and you ain't here, what do you think he'll do? the neighbours are comin' for fifty miles round, two is comin' up a hundred miles, an' you can't--jinny, you can't do it. i bin sick of answerin' questions all these years 'bout you and jake, an' i ain't goin' through it again. i've told more lies than there's straws in a tick." she flamed out. "then take him down the river yourself--a man to do a man's work. are you afeard to take the risk?" he held out his hands slowly and looked at them. they shook a little. "yes, jinny," he said sadly, "i'm afeard. i ain't what i was. i made a mistake, jinny. i've took too much whiskey. i'm older than i ought to be. i oughtn't never to have had a whiskey-still, an' i wouldn't have drunk so much. i got money--money for you, jinny, for you an' jake, but i've lost what i'll never git back. i'm afeard to go down the river with him. i'd go smash in the dog nose rapids. i got no nerve. i can't hunt the grizzly any more, nor the puma, jinny. i got to keep to common shootin', now and henceforth, amen! no, i'd go smash in dog nose rapids." she caught his hands impulsively. "don't you fret, uncle tom. you've bin a good uncle to me, and you've bin a good friend, and you ain't the first that's found whiskey too much for him. you ain't got an enemy in the mountains. why, i've got two or three--" "shucks! women--only women whose beaux left 'em to follow after you. that's nothing, an' they'll be your friends fast enough after you're married tomorrow." "i ain't going to be married to-morrow. i'm going down to bindon to-night. if jake's mad, then it's all over, and there'll be more trouble among the women up here." by this time they had entered the other room. the old man saw the white petticoat on the chair. "no woman in the mountains ever had a petticoat like that, jinny. it'd make a dress, it's that pretty an' neat. golly, i'd like to see it on you, with the blue skirt over, and just hitched up a little." "oh, shut up--shut up!" she said in sudden anger, and caught up the petticoat as though she would put it away; but presently she laid it down again and smoothed it with quick, nervous fingers. "can't you talk sense and leave my clothes alone? if jake comes, and i'm not here, and he wants to make a fuss, and spoil everything, and won't wait, you give him this petticoat. you put it in his arms. i bet you'll have the laugh on him. he's got a temper." "so've you, jinny, dear, so've you," said the old man, laughing. "you're goin' to have your own way, same as ever--same as ever." ii a moon of exquisite whiteness silvering the world, making shadows on the water as though it were sunlight and the daytime, giving a spectral look to the endless array of poplar trees on the banks, glittering on the foam of the rapids. the spangling stars made the arch of the sky like some gorgeous chancel in a cathedral as vast as life and time. like the day which was ended, in which the mountain-girl had found a taste of eden, it seemed too sacred for mortal strife. now and again there came the note of a night-bird, the croak of a frog from the shore; but the serene stillness and beauty of the primeval north was over all. for two hours after sunset it had all been silent and brooding, and then two figures appeared on the bank of the great river. a canoe was softly and hastily pushed out from its hidden shelter under the overhanging bank, and was noiselessly paddled out to midstream, dropping down the current meanwhile. it was jenny long and the man who must get to bindon. they had waited till nine o'clock, when the moon was high and full, to venture forth. then dingley had dropped from her bedroom window, had joined her under the trees, and they had sped away, while the man's hunters, who had come suddenly, and before jenny could get him away into the woods, were carousing inside. these had tracked their man back to tom sanger's house, and at first they were incredulous that jenny and her uncle had not seen him. they had prepared to search the house, and one had laid his finger on the latch of her bedroom door; but she had flared out with such anger that, mindful of the supper she had already begun to prepare for them, they had desisted, and the whiskey-jug which the old man brought out distracted their attention. one of their number, known as the man from clancey's, had, however, been outside when dingley had dropped from the window, and had seen him from a distance. he had not given the alarm, but had followed, to make the capture by himself. but jenny had heard the stir of life behind them, and had made a sharp detour, so that they had reached the shore and were out in mid-stream before their tracker got to the river. then he called to them to return, but jenny only bent a little lower and paddled on, guiding the canoe towards the safe channel through the first small rapids leading to the great dog nose rapids. a rifle-shot rang out, and a bullet "pinged" over the water and splintered the side of the canoe where dingley sat. he looked calmly back, and saw the rifle raised again, but did not stir, in spite of jenny's warning to lie down. "he'll not fire on you so long as he can draw a bead on me," he said quietly. again a shot rang out, and the bullet sang past his head. "if he hits me, you go straight on to bindon," he continued. "never mind about me. go to the snowdrop mine. get there by twelve o'clock, and warn them. don't stop a second for me--" suddenly three shots rang out in succession--tom sanger's house had emptied itself on the bank of the river--and dingley gave a sharp exclamation. "they've hit me, but it's the same arm as before," he growled. "they got no right to fire at me. it's not the law. don't stop," he added quickly, as he saw her half turn round. now there were loud voices on the shore. old tom sanger was threatening to shoot the first man that fired again, and he would have kept his word. "who you firin' at?" he shouted. "that's my niece, jinny long, an' you let that boat alone. this ain't the land o' lynch law. dingley ain't escaped from gaol. you got no right to fire at him." "no one ever went down dog nose rapids at night," said the man from clancey's, whose shot had got dingley's arm. "there ain't a chance of them doing it. no one's ever done it." the two were in the roaring rapids now, and the canoe was jumping through the foam like a racehorse. the keen eyes on the bank watched the canoe till it was lost in the half-gloom below the first rapids, and then they went slowly back to tom sanger's house. "so there'll be no wedding to-morrow," said the man from clancey's. "funerals, more likely," drawled another. "jinny long's in that canoe, an' she ginerally does what she wants to," said tom sanger sagely. "well, we done our best, and now i hope they'll get to bindon," said another. sanger passed the jug to him freely. then they sat down and talked of the people who had been drowned in dog nose rapids and of the last wedding in the mountains. iii it was as the man from clancey's had said, no one had ever gone down dog nose rapids in the nighttime, and probably no one but jenny long would have ventured it. dingley had had no idea what a perilous task had been set his rescuer. it was only when the angry roar of the great rapids floated up-stream to them, increasing in volume till they could see the terror of tumbling waters just below, and the canoe shot forward like a snake through the swift, smooth current which would sweep them into the vast caldron, that he realised the terrible hazard of the enterprise. the moon was directly overhead when they drew upon the race of rocks and fighting water and foam. on either side only the shadowed shore, forsaken by the races which had hunted and roamed and ravaged here--not a light, nor any sign of life, or the friendliness of human presence to make their isolation less complete, their danger, as it were, shared by fellow-mortals. bright as the moon was, it was not bright enough for perfect pilotage. never in the history of white men had these rapids been ridden at nighttime. as they sped down the flume of the deep, irresistible current, and were launched into the trouble of rocks and water, jenny realised how great their peril was, and how different the track of the waters looked at nighttime from daytime. outlines seemed merged, rocks did not look the same, whirlpools had a different vortex, islands of stone had a new configuration. as they sped on, lurching, jumping, piercing a broken wall of wave and spray like a torpedo, shooting an almost sheer fall, she came to rely on a sense of intuition rather than memory, for night had transformed the waters. not a sound escaped either. the man kept his eyes fixed on the woman; the woman scanned the dreadful pathway with eyes deep-set and burning, resolute, vigilant, and yet defiant too, as though she had been trapped into this track of danger, and was fighting without great hope, but with the temerity and nonchalance of despair. her arms were bare to the shoulder almost, and her face was again and again drenched; but second succeeded second, minute followed minute in a struggle which might well turn a man's hair grey, and now, at last-how many hours was it since they had been cast into this den of roaring waters!--at last, suddenly, over a large fall, and here smooth waters again, smooth and untroubled, and strong and deep. then, and only then, did a word escape either; but the man had passed through torture and unavailing regret, for he realised that he had had no right to bring this girl into such a fight. it was not her friend who was in danger at bindon. her life had been risked without due warrant. "i didn't know, or i wouldn't have asked it," he said in a low voice. "lord, but you are a wonder--to take that hurdle for no one that belonged to you, and to do it as you've done it. this country will rise to you." he looked back on the raging rapids far behind, and he shuddered. "it was a close call, and no mistake. we must have been within a foot of down-you-go fifty times. but it's all right now, if we can last it out and git there." again he glanced back, then turned to the girl. "it makes me pretty sick to look at it," he continued. "i bin through a lot, but that's as sharp practice as i want." "come here and let me bind up your arm," she answered. "they hit you-the sneaks! are you bleeding much?" he came near her carefully, as she got the big canoe out of the current into quieter water. she whipped the scarf from about her neck, and with his knife ripped up the seam of his sleeve. her face was alive with the joy of conflict and elated with triumph. her eyes were shining. she bathed the wound--the bullet had passed clean through the fleshy part of the arm--and then carefully tied the scarf round it over her handkerchief. "i guess it's as good as a man could do it," she said at last. "as good as any doctor," he rejoined. "i wasn't talking of your arm," she said. "'course not. excuse me. you was talkin' of them rapids, and i've got to say there ain't a man that could have done it and come through like you. i guess the man that marries you'll get more than his share of luck." "i want none of that," she said sharply, and picked up her paddle again, her eyes flashing anger. he took a pistol from his pocket and offered it to her. "i didn't mean any harm by what i said. take this if you think i won't know how to behave myself," he urged. she flung up her head a little. "i knew what i was doing before i started," she said. "put it away. how far is it, and can we do it in time?" "if you can hold out, we can do it; but it means going all night and all morning; and it ain't dawn yet, by a long shot." dawn came at last, and the mist of early morning, and the imperious and dispelling sun; and with mouthfuls of food as they drifted on, the two fixed their eyes on the horizon beyond which lay bindon. and now it seemed to the girl as though this race to save a life or many lives was the one thing in existence. to-morrow was to-day, and the white petticoat was lying in the little house in the mountains, and her wedding was an interminable distance off, so had this adventure drawn her into its risks and toils and haggard exhaustion. eight, nine, ten, eleven o'clock came, and then they saw signs of settlement. houses appeared here and there upon the banks, and now and then a horseman watched them from the shore, but they could not pause. bindon--bindon--bindon--the snowdrop mine at bindon, and a death-dealing machine timed to do its deadly work, were before the eyes of the two voyageurs. half-past eleven, and the town of bindon was just beyond them. a quarter to twelve, and they had run their canoe into the bank beyond which were the smokestacks and chimneys of the mine. bindon was peacefully pursuing its way, though here and there were little groups of strikers who had not resumed work. dingley and the girl scrambled up the bank. trembling with fatigue, they hastened on. the man drew ahead of her, for she had paddled for fifteen hours, practically without ceasing, and the ground seemed to rise up at her. but she would not let him stop. he hurried on, reached the mine, and entered, shouting the name of his friend. it was seven minutes to twelve. a moment later, a half-dozen men came rushing from that portion of the mine where dingley had been told the machine was placed, and at their head was lawson, the man he had come to save. the girl hastened on to meet them, but she grew faint and leaned against a tree, scarce conscious. she was roused by voices. "no, it wasn't me, it wasn't me that done it; it was a girl. here she is--jenny long! you got to thank her, jake." jake! jake! the girl awakened to full understanding now. jake--what jake? she looked, then stumbled forward with a cry. "jake--it was my jake!" she faltered. the mine-boss caught her in his arms. "you, jenny! it's you that's saved me!" suddenly there was a rumble as of thunder, and a cloud of dust and stone rose from the snowdrop mine. the mine-boss tightened his arm round the girl's waist. "that's what i missed, through him and you, jenny," he said. "what was you doing here, and not at selby, jake?" she asked. "they sent for me-to stop the trouble here." "but what about our wedding to-day?" she asked with a frown. "a man went from here with a letter to you three days ago," he said, "asking you to come down here and be married. i suppose he got drunk, or had an accident, and didn't reach you. it had to be. i was needed here--couldn't tell what would happen." "it has happened out all right," said dingley, "and this'll be the end of it. you got them miners solid now. the strikers'll eat humble pie after to-day." "we'll be married to-day, just the same," the mine-boss said, as he gave some brandy to the girl. but the girl shook her head. she was thinking of a white petticoat in a little house in the mountains. "i'm not going to be married to-day," she said decisively. "well, to-morrow," said the mine-boss. but the girl shook her head again. "to-day is tomorrow," she answered. "you can wait, jake. i'm going back home to be married." qu'appelle (who calls?) "but i'm white; i'm not an indian. my father was a white man. i've been brought up as a white girl. i've had a white girl's schooling." her eyes flashed as she sprang to her feet and walked up and down the room for a moment, then stood still, facing her mother,--a dark-faced, pock-marked woman, with heavy, somnolent eyes, and waited for her to speak. the reply came slowly and sullenly-"i am a blackfoot woman. i lived on the muskwat river among the braves for thirty years. i have killed buffalo. i have seen battles. men, too, i have killed when they came to steal our horses and crept in on our lodges in the night-the crees! i am a blackfoot. you are the daughter of a blackfoot woman. no medicine can cure that. sit down. you have no sense. you are not white. they will not have you. sit down." the girl's handsome face flushed; she threw up her hands in an agony of protest. a dreadful anger was in her panting breast, but she could not speak. she seemed to choke with excess of feeling. for an instant she stood still, trembling with agitation, then she sat down suddenly on a great couch covered with soft deerskins and buffalo robes. there was deep in her the habit of obedience to this sombre but striking woman. she had been ruled firmly, almost oppressively, and she had not yet revolted. seated on the couch, she gazed out of the window at the flying snow, her brain too much on fire for thought, passion beating like a pulse in all her lithe and graceful young body, which had known the storms of life and time for only twenty years. the wind shrieked and the snow swept past in clouds of blinding drift, completely hiding from sight the town below them, whose civilisation had built itself many habitations and was making roads and streets on the green-brown plain, where herds of buffalo had stamped and streamed and thundered not long ago. the town was a mile and a half away, and these two were alone in a great circle of storm, one of them battling against a tempest which might yet overtake her, against which she had set her face ever since she could remember, though it had only come to violence since her father died two years before--a careless, strong, wilful white man, who had lived the indian life for many years, but had been swallowed at last by the great wave of civilisation streaming westward and northward, wiping out the game and the indian, and overwhelming the rough, fighting, hunting, pioneer life. joel renton had made money, by good luck chiefly, having held land here and there which he had got for nothing, and had then almost forgotten about it, and, when reminded of it, still held on to it with that defiant stubbornness which often possesses improvident and careless natures. he had never had any real business instinct, and to swagger a little over the land he held and to treat offers of purchase with contempt was the loud assertion of a capacity he did not possess. so it was that stubborn vanity, beneath which was his angry protest against the prejudice felt by the new people of the west for the white pioneer who married an indian, and lived the indian life,--so it was that this gave him competence and a comfortable home after the old trader had been driven out by the railway and the shopkeeper. with the first land he sold he sent his daughter away to school in a town farther east and south, where she had been brought in touch with a life that at once cramped and attracted her; where, too, she had felt the first chill of racial ostracism, and had proudly fought it to the end, her weapons being talent, industry, and a hot, defiant ambition. there had been three years of bitter, almost half-sullen, struggle, lightened by one sweet friendship with a girl whose face she had since drawn in a hundred different poses on stray pieces of paper, on the walls of the big, well-lighted attic to which she retreated for hours every day, when she was not abroad on the prairies, riding the indian pony that her uncle the piegan chief, ice breaker, had given her years before. three years of struggle, and then her father had died, and the refuge for her vexed, defiant heart was gone. while he lived she could affirm the rights of a white man's daughter, the rights of the daughter of a pioneer who had helped to make the west; and her pride in him had given a glow to her cheek and a spring to her step which drew every eye. in the chief street of portage la drome men would stop their trafficking and women nudge each other when she passed, and wherever she went she stirred interest, excited admiration, or aroused prejudice--but the prejudice did not matter so long as her father, joel renton, lived. whatever his faults, and they were many--sometimes he drank too much, and swore a great deal, and bullied and stormed--she blinked at them all, for he was of the conquering race, a white man who had slept in white sheets and eaten off white tablecloths, and used a knife and fork, since he was born; and the women of his people had had soft petticoats and fine stockings, and silk gowns for festal days, and feathered hats of velvet, and shoes of polished leather, always and always, back through many generations. she had held her head high, for she was of his women, of the women of his people, with all their rights and all their claims. she had held it high till that stormy day--just such a day as this, with the surf of snow breaking against the house--when they carried him in out of the wild turmoil and snow, laying him on the couch where she now sat, and her head fell on his lifeless breast, and she cried out to him in vain to come back to her. before the world her head was still held high, but in the attic-room, and out on the prairies far away, where only the coyote or the prairiehen saw, her head drooped, and her eyes grew heavy with pain and sombre protest. once in an agony of loneliness, and cruelly hurt by a conspicuous slight put upon her at the portage by the wife of the reeve of the town, who had daughters twain of pure white blood got from behind the bar of a saloon in winnipeg, she had thrown open her window at night with the frost below zero, and stood in her thin nightdress, craving the death which she hoped the cold would give her soon. it had not availed, however, and once again she had ridden out in a blizzard to die, but had come upon a man lost in the snow, and her own misery had passed from her, and her heart, full of the blood of plainsmen, had done for another what it would not do for itself. the indian in her had, with strange, sure instinct, found its way to portage la drome, the man with both hands and one foot frozen, on her pony, she walking at his side, only conscious that she had saved one, not two, lives that day. here was another such day, here again was the storm in her heart which had driven her into the plains that other time, and here again was that tempest of white death outside. "you have no sense. you are not white. they will not have you. sit down--" the words had fallen on her ears with a cold, deadly smother. there came a chill upon her which stilled the wild pulses in her, which suddenly robbed the eyes of their brightness and gave a drawn look to the face. "you are not white. they will not have you, pauline." the indian mother repeated the words after a moment, her eyes grown still more gloomy; for in her, too, there was a dark tide of passion moving. in all the outlived years this girl had ever turned to the white father rather than to her, and she had been left more and more alone. her man had been kind to her, and she had been a faithful wife, but she had resented the natural instinct of her half-breed child, almost white herself and with the feelings and ways of the whites, to turn always to her father, as though to a superior guide, to a higher influence and authority. was not she herself the descendant of blackfoot and piegan chiefs through generations of rulers and warriors? was there not piegan and blackfoot blood in the girl's veins? must only the white man's blood be reckoned when they made up their daily account and balanced the books of their lives, credit and debtor,--misunderstanding and kind act, neglect and tenderness, reproof and praise, gentleness and impulse, anger and caress,--to be set down in the everlasting record? why must the indian always give way--indian habits, indian desires, the indian way of doing things, the indian point of view, indian food, indian medicine? was it all bad, and only that which belonged to white life good? "look at your face in the glass, pauline," she added at last. "you are good-looking, but it isn't the good looks of the whites. the lodge of a chieftainess is the place for you. there you would have praise and honour; among the whites you are only a half-breed. what is the good? let us go back to the life out there beyond the muskwat river--up beyond. there is hunting still, a little, and the world is quiet, and nothing troubles. only the wild dog barks at night, or the wolf sniffs at the door and all day there is singing. somewhere out beyond the muskwat the feasts go on, and the old men build the great fires, and tell tales, and call the wind out of the north, and make the thunder speak; and the young men ride to the hunt or go out to battle, and build lodges for the daughters of the tribe; and each man has his woman, and each woman has in her breast the honour of the tribe, and the little ones fill the lodge with laughter. like a pocket of deerskin is every house, warm and small and full of good things. hai-yai, what is this life to that! there you will be head and chief of all, for there is money enough for a thousand horses; and your father was a white man, and these are the days when the white man rules. like clouds before the sun are the races of men, and one race rises and another falls. here you are not first, but last; and the child of the white father and mother, though they be as the dirt that flies from a horse's heels, it is before you. your mother is a blackfoot." as the woman spoke slowly and with many pauses, the girl's mood changed, and there came into her eyes a strange, dark look deeper than anger. she listened with a sudden patience which stilled the agitation in her breast and gave a little touch of rigidity to her figure. her eyes withdrew from the wild storm without and gravely settled on her mother's face, and with the indian woman's last words understanding pierced, but did not dispel, the sombre and ominous look in her eyes. there was silence for a moment, and then she spoke almost as evenly as her mother had done. "i will tell you everything. you are my mother, and i love you; but you will not see the truth. when my father took you from the lodges and brought you here, it was the end of the indian life. it was for you to go on with him, but you would not go. i was young, but i saw, and i said that in all things i would go with him. i did not know that it would be hard, but at school, at the very first, i began to understand. there was only one, a french girl--i loved her--a girl who said to me, 'you are as white as i am, as anyone, and your heart is the same, and you are beautiful.' yes, manette said i was beautiful." she paused a moment, a misty, far-away look came into her eyes, her fingers clasped and unclasped, and she added: "and her brother, julien,--he was older,--when he came to visit manette, he spoke to me as though i was all white, and was good to me. i have never forgotten, never. it was five years ago, but i remember him. he was tall and strong, and as good as manette--as good as manette. i loved manette, but she suffered for me, for i was not like the others, and my ways were different--then. i had lived up there on the warais among the lodges, and i had not seen things--only from my father, and he did so much in an indian way. so i was sick at heart, and sometimes i wanted to die; and once--but there was manette, and she would laugh and sing, and we would play together, and i would speak french and she would speak english, and i learned from her to forget the indian ways. what were they to me? i had loved them when i was of them, but i came on to a better life. the indian life is to the white life as the parfleche pouch to--to this." she laid her hand upon a purse of delicate silver mesh hanging at her waist. "when your eyes are opened you must go on, you cannot stop. there is no going back. when you have read of all there is in the white man's world, when you have seen, then there is no returning. you may end it all, if you wish, in the snow, in the river, but there is no returning. the lodge of a chief--ah, if my father had heard you say that--!" the indian woman shifted heavily in her chair, then shrank away from the look fixed on her. once or twice she made as if she would speak, but sank down in the great chair, helpless and dismayed. "the lodge of a chief!" the girl continued in a low, bitter voice. "what is the lodge of a chief? a smoky fire, a pot, a bed of skins, aihyi! if the lodges of the indians were millions, and i could be head of all, and rule the land, yet would i rather be a white girl in the hut of her white man, struggling for daily bread among the people who sweep the buffalo out, but open up the land with the plough, and make a thousand live where one lived before. it is peace you want, my mother, peace and solitude, in which the soul goes to sleep. your days of hope are over, and you want to drowse by the fire. i want to see the white men's cities grow, and the armies coming over the hill with the ploughs and the reapers and the mowers, and the wheels and the belts and engines of the great factories, and the white woman's life spreading everywhere; for i am a white man's daughter. i can't be both indian and white. i will not be like the sun when the shadow cuts across it and the land grows dark. i will not be half-breed. i will be white or i will be indian; and i will be white, white only. my heart is white, my tongue is white, i think, i feel, as white people think and feel. what they wish, i wish; as they live, i live; as white women dress, i dress." she involuntarily drew up the dark red skirt she wore, showing a white petticoat and a pair of fine stockings on an ankle as shapely as she had ever seen among all the white women she knew. she drew herself up with pride, and her body had a grace and ease which the white woman's convention had not cramped. yet, with all her protests, no one would have thought her english. she might have been spanish, or italian, or roumanian, or slav, though nothing of her indian blood showed in purely indian characteristics, and something sparkled in her, gave a radiance to her face and figure which the storm and struggle in her did not smother. the white women of portage la drome were too blind, too prejudiced, to see all that she really was, and admiring white men could do little, for pauline would have nothing to do with them till the women met her absolutely as an equal; and from the other halfbreeds, who intermarried with each other and were content to take a lower place than the pure whites, she held aloof, save when any of them was ill or in trouble. then she recognised the claim of race, and came to their doors with pity and soft impulses to help them. french and scotch and english half-breeds, as they were, they understood how she was making a fight for all who were half-indian, halfwhite, and watched her with a furtive devotion, acknowledging her superior place, and proud of it. "i will not stay here," said the indian mother with sullen stubbornness. "i will go back beyond the warais. my life is my own life, and i will do what i like with it." the girl started, but became composed again on the instant. "is your life all your own, mother?" she asked. "i did not come into the world of my own will. if i had i would have come all white or all indian. i am your daughter, and i am here, good or bad--is your life all your own?" "you can marry and stay here, when i go. you are twenty. i had my man, your father, when i was seventeen. you can marry. there are men. you have money. they will marry you--and forget the rest." with a cry of rage and misery the girl sprang to her feet and started forwards, but stopped suddenly at sound of a hasty knocking and a voice asking admittance. an instant later, a huge, bearded, broad-shouldered man stepped inside, shaking himself free of the snow, laughing halfsheepishly as he did so, and laying his fur-cap and gloves with exaggerated care on the wide window-sill. "john alloway," said the indian woman in a voice of welcome, and with a brightening eye, for it would seem as though he came in answer to her words of a few moments before. with a mother's instinct she had divined at once the reason for the visit, though no warning thought crossed the mind of the girl, who placed a chair for their visitor with a heartiness which was real--was not this the white man she had saved from death in the snow a year ago? her heart was soft towards the life she had kept in the world. she smiled at him, all the anger gone from her eyes, and there was almost a touch of tender anxiety in her voice as she said "what brought you out in this blizzard? it wasn't safe. it doesn't seem possible you got here from the portage." the huge ranchman and auctioneer laughed cheerily. "once lost, twice get there," he exclaimed, with a quizzical toss of the head, thinking he had said a good thing. "it's a year ago to the very day that i was lost out back"--he jerked a thumb over his shoulder--"and you picked me up and brought me in; and what was i to do but come out on the anniversary and say thank you? i'd fixed up all year to come to you, and i wasn't to be stopped, 'cause it was like the day we first met, old coldmaker hitting the world with his whips of frost, and shaking his ragged blankets of snow over the wild west." "just such a day," said the indian woman after a pause. pauline remained silent, placing a little bottle of cordial before their visitor, with which he presently regaled himself, raising his glass with an air. "many happy returns to us both!" he said, and threw the liquor down his throat, smacked his lips, and drew his hand down his great moustache and beard like some vast animal washing its face with its paw. smiling and yet not at ease, he looked at the two women and nodded his head encouragingly, but whether the encouragement was for himself or for them he could not have told. his last words, however, had altered the situation. the girl had caught at a suggestion in them which startled her. this rough white plainsman was come to make love to her, and to say--what? he was at once awkward and confident, afraid of her, of her refinement, grace, beauty, and education, and yet confident in the advantage of his position, a white man bending to a half-breed girl. he was not conscious of the condescension and majesty of his demeanour, but it was there, and his untutored words and ways must make it all too apparent to the girl. the revelation of the moment made her at once triumphant and humiliated. this white man had come to make love to her, that was apparent; but that he, ungrammatical, crude, and rough, should think he had but to put out his hand, and she in whom every subtle emotion and influence had delicate response, whose words and ways were as far removed from his as day from night, would fly to him, brought the flush of indignation to her cheek. she responded to his toast with a pleasant nod, however, and said: "but if you will keep coming in such wild storms, there will not be many anniversaries." laughing, she poured out another glass of liquor for him. "well, now, p'r'aps you're right, and so the only thing to do is not to keep coming, but to stay--stay right where you are." the indian woman could not see her daughter's face, which was turned to the fire, but she herself smiled at john alloway, and nodded her head approvingly. here was the cure for her own trouble and loneliness. pauline and she, who lived in different worlds, and yet were tied to each other by circumstances they could not control, would each work out her own destiny after her own nature, since john alloway had come a-wooing. she would go back on the warais, and pauline would remain at the portage, a white woman with her white man. she would go back to the smoky fires in the huddled lodges; to the venison stew and the snake dance; to the feasts of the medicine men, and the long sleeps in the summer days, and the winter's tales, and be at rest among her own people; and pauline would have revenge of the wife of the prancing reeve, and perhaps the people would forget who her mother was. with these thoughts flying through her sluggish mind, she rose and moved heavily from the room, with a parting look of encouragement at alloway, as though to say, a man that is bold is surest. with her back to the man, pauline watched her mother leave the room, saw the look she gave alloway. when the door was closed she turned and looked alloway in the eyes. "how old are you?" she asked suddenly. he stirred in his seat nervously. "why, fifty, about," he answered with confusion. "then you'll be wise not to go looking for anniversaries in blizzards, when they're few at the best," she said with a gentle and dangerous smile. "fifty-why, i'm as young as most men of thirty," he responded with an uncertain laugh. "i'd have come here to-day if it had been snowing pitchforks and chain-lightning. i made up my mind i would. you saved my life, that's dead sure; and i'd be down among the: moles if it wasn't for you and that piegan pony of yours. piegan ponies are wonders in a stormseem to know their way by instinct. you, too--why, i bin on the plains all my life, and was no better than a baby that day; but you--why, you had piegan in you, why, yes--" he stopped short for a moment, checked by the look in her face, then went blindly on: "and you've got blackfoot in you, too; and you just felt your way through the tornado and over the blind prairie like a, bird reaching for the hills. it was as easy to you as picking out a moverick in a bunch of steers to me. but i never could make out what you was doing on the prairie that terrible day. i've thought of it a hundred times. what was you doing, if it ain't cheek to ask?" "i was trying to lose a life," she answered quietly, her eyes dwelling on his face, yet not seeing him; for it all came back on her, the agony which had driven her out into the tempest to be lost evermore. he laughed. "well, now, that's good," he said; "that's what they call speaking sarcastic. you was out to save, and not to lose, a life; that was proved to the satisfaction of the court." he paused and chuckled to himself, thinking he had been witty, and continued: "and i was that court, and my judgment was that the debt of that life you saved had to be paid to you within one calendar year, with interest at the usual per cent for mortgages on good security. that was my judgment, and there's no appeal from it. i am the great justinian in this case." "did you ever save anybody's life?" she asked, putting the bottle of cordial away, as he filled his glass for the third time. "twice certain, and once dividin' the honours," he answered, pleased at the question. "and did you expect to get any pay, with or without interest?" she added. "me? i never thought of it again. but yes--by gol, i did! one case was funny, as funny can be. it was ricky wharton over on the muskwat river. i saved his life right enough, and he came to me a year after and said, you saved my life, now what are you going to do with it? i'm stony broke. i owe a hundred dollars, and i wouldn't be owing it if you hadn't saved my life. when you saved it i was five hunderd to the good, and i'd have left that much behind me. now i'm on the rocks, because you insisted on saving my life; and you just got to take care of me.' i 'insisted!' well, that knocked me silly, and i took him on--blame me, if i didn't keep ricky a whole year, till he went north looking for gold. get pay--why, i paid! saving life has its responsibilities, little gal." "you can't save life without running some risk yourself, not as a rule, can you?" she said, shrinking from his familiarity. "not as a rule," he replied. "you took on a bit of risk with me, you and your piegan pony." "oh, i was young," she responded, leaning over the table, and drawing faces on a piece of paper before her. "i could take more risks, i was only nineteen!" "i don't catch on," he rejoined. "if it's sixteen or--" "or fifty," she interposed. "what difference does it make? if you're done for, it's the same at nineteen as fifty, and vicey-versey." "no, it's not the same," she answered. "you leave so much more that you want to keep, when you go at fifty." "well, i dunno. i never thought of that." "there's all that has belonged to you. you've been married, and have children, haven't you?" he started, frowned, then straightened himself. "i got one girl--she's east with her grandmother," he said jerkily. "that's what i said; there's more to leave behind at fifty," she replied, a red spot on each cheek. she was not looking at him, but at the face of a man on the paper before her--a young man with abundant hair, a strong chin, and big, eloquent eyes; and all around his face she had drawn the face of a girl many times, and beneath the faces of both she was writing manette and julien. the water was getting too deep for john alloway. he floundered towards the shore. "i'm no good at words," he said-"no good at argyment; but i've got a gift for stories--round the fire of a night, with a pipe and a tin basin of tea; so i'm not going to try and match you. you've had a good education down at winnipeg. took every prize, they say, and led the school, though there was plenty of fuss because they let you do it, and let you stay there, being half-indian. you never heard what was going on outside, i s'pose. it didn't matter, for you won out. blamed foolishness, trying to draw the line between red and white that way. of course, it's the women always, always the women, striking out for all-white or nothing. down there at portage they've treated you mean, mean as dirt. the reeve's wife--well, we'll fix that up all right. i guess john alloway ain't to be bluffed. he knows too much and they all know he knows enough. when john alloway, 32 main street, with a ranch on the katanay, says, 'we're coming--mr. and mrs. john alloway is coming,' they'll get out their cards visite, i guess." pauline's head bent lower, and she seemed laboriously etching lines into the faces before her--manette and julien, julien and manette; and there came into her eyes the youth and light and gaiety of the days when julien came of an afternoon and the riverside rang with laughter; the dearest, lightest days she had ever spent. the man of fifty went on, seeing nothing but a girl over whom he was presently going to throw the lasso of his affection, and take her home with him, yielding and glad, a white man, and his half-breed girl--but such a half-breed! "i seen enough of the way some of them women treated you," he continued, "and i sez to myself, her turn next. there's a way out, i sez, and john alloway pays his debts. when the anniversary comes round i'll put things right, i sez to myself. she saved my life, and she shall have the rest of it, if she'll take it, and will give a receipt in full, and open a new account in the name of john and pauline alloway. catch it? see-pauline?" slowly she got to her feet. there was a look in her eyes such as had been in her mother's a little while before, but a hundred times intensified: a look that belonged to the flood and flow of generations of indian life, yet controlled in her by the order and understanding of centuries of white men's lives, the pervasive, dominating power of race. for an instant she kept her eyes towards the window. the storm had suddenly ceased, and a glimmer of sunset light was breaking over the distant wastes of snow. "you want to pay a debt you think you owe," she said, in a strange, lustreless voice, turning to him at last. "well, you have paid it. you have given me a book to read which i will keep always. and i give you a receipt in full for your debt." "i don't know about any book," he answered dazedly. "i want to marry you right away." "i am sorry, but it is not necessary," she replied suggestively. her face was very pale now. "but i want to. it ain't a debt. that was only a way of putting it. i want to make you my wife. i got some position, and i can make the west sit up, and look at you and be glad." suddenly her anger flared out, low and vivid and fierce, but her words were slow and measured. "there is no reason why i should marry you--not one. you offer me marriage as a prince might give a penny to a beggar. if my mother were not an indian woman, you would not have taken it all as a matter of course. but my father was a white man, and i am a white man's daughter, and i would rather marry an indian, who would think me the best thing there was in the light of the sun, than marry you. had i been pure white you would not have been so sure, you would have asked, not offered. i am not obliged to you. you ought to go to no woman as you came to me. see, the storm has stopped. you will be quite safe going back now. the snow will be deep, perhaps, but it is not far." she went to the window, got his cap and gloves, and handed them to him. he took them, dumbfounded and overcome. "say, i ain't done it right, mebbe, but i meant well, and i'd be good to you and proud of you, and i'd love you better than anything i ever saw," he said shamefacedly, but eagerly and honestly too. "ah, you should have said those last words first," she answered. "i say them now." "they come too late; but they would have been too late in any case," she added. "still, i am glad you said them." she opened the door for him. "i made a mistake," he urged humbly. "i understand better now. i never had any schoolin'." "oh, it isn't that," she answered gently. "goodbye." suddenly he turned. "you're right--it couldn't ever be," he said. "you're--you're great. and i owe you my life still." he stepped out into the biting air. for a moment pauline stood motionless in the middle of the room, her gaze fixed upon the door which had just closed; then, with a wild gesture of misery and despair, she threw herself upon the couch in a passionate outburst of weeping. sobs shook her from head to foot, and her hands, clenched above her head, twitched convulsively. presently the door opened and her mother looked in eagerly. at what she saw her face darkened and hardened for an instant, but then the girl's utter abandonment of grief and agony convinced and conquered her. some glimmer of the true understanding of the problem which pauline represented got into her heart, and drove the sullen selfishness from her face and eyes and mind. she came over heavily and, sinking upon her knees, swept an arm around the girl's shoulder. she realised what had happened, and probably this was the first time in her life that she had ever come by instinct to a revelation of her daughter's mind, or of the faithful meaning of incidents of their lives. "you said no to john alloway," she murmured. defiance and protest spoke in the swift gesture of the girl's hands. "you think because he was white that i'd drop into his arms! no--no--no!" "you did right, little one." the sobs suddenly stopped, and the girl seemed to listen with all her body. there was something in her indian mother's voice she had never heard before--at least, not since she was a little child, and swung in a deer-skin hammock in a tamarac tree by renton's lodge, where the chiefs met, and the west paused to rest on its onward march. something of the accents of the voice that crooned to her then was in the woman's tones now. "he offered it like a lump of sugar to a bird--i know. he didn't know that you have great blood--yes, but it is true. my man's grandfather, he was of the blood of the kings of england. my man had the proof. and for a thousand years my people have been chiefs. there is no blood in all the west like yours. my heart was heavy, and dark thoughts came to me, because my man is gone, and the life is not my life, and i am only an indian woman from the warais, and my heart goes out there always now. but some great medicine has been poured into my heart. as i stood at the door and saw you lying there, i called to the sun. 'o great spirit,' i said, 'help me to understand; for this girl is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, and evil has come between us!' and the sun spirit poured the medicine into my spirit, and there is no cloud between us now. it has passed away, and i see. little white one, the white life is the only life, and i will live it with you till a white man comes and gives you a white man's home. but not john alloway--shall the crow nest with the oriole?" as the woman spoke with slow, measured voice, full of the cadences of a heart revealing itself, the girl's breath at first seemed to stop, so still she lay; then, as the true understanding of the words came to her, she panted with excitement, her breast heaved, and the blood flushed her face. when the slow voice ceased, and the room became still, she lay quiet for a moment, letting the new thing find secure lodgment in her thought; then, suddenly, she raised herself and threw her arms round her mother in a passion of affection. "lalika! o mother lalika!" she said tenderly, and kissed her again and again. not since she was a little girl, long before they left the warais, had she called her mother by her indian name, which her father had humorously taught her to do in those far-off happy days by the beautiful, singing river and the exquisite woods, when, with a bow and arrow, she had ranged a young diana who slew only with love. "lalika, mother lalika, it is like the old, old times," she added softly. "ah, it does not matter now, for you understand!" "i do not understand altogether," murmured the indian woman gently. "i am not white, and there is a different way of thinking; but i will hold your hand, and we will live the white life together." cheek to cheek they saw the darkness come, and, afterwards, the silver moon steal up over a frozen world, in which the air bit like steel and braced the heart like wine. then, at last, before it was nine o'clock, after her custom, the indian woman went to bed, leaving her daughter brooding peacefully by the fire. for a long time pauline sat with hands clasped in her lap, her gaze on the tossing flames, in her heart and mind a new feeling of strength and purpose. the way before her was not clear, she saw no further than this day, and all that it had brought; yet she was as one that has crossed a direful flood and finds herself on a strange shore in an unknown country, with the twilight about her, yet with so much of danger passed that there was only the thought of the moment's safety round her, the camp-fire to be lit, and the bed to be made under the friendly trees and stars. for a half-hour she sat so, and then, suddenly, she raised her head listening, leaning towards the window, through which the moonlight streamed. she heard her name called without, distinct and strange-"pauline! pauline!" starting up, she ran to the door and opened it. all was silent and cruelly cold. nothing but the wide plain of snow and the steely air. but as she stood intently listening, the red glow from the fire behind her, again came the cry--"pauline!" not far away. her heart beat hard, and she raised her head and called--why was it she should call out in a language not her own? "qu'appelle? qu'appelle?" and once again on the still night air came the trembling appeal-"pauline!" "qu'appelle? qu'appelle?" she cried, then, with a gasping murmur of understanding and recognition she ran forwards in the frozen night towards the sound of the voice. the same intuitive sense which had made her call out in french, without thought or reason, had revealed to her who it was that called; or was it that even in the one word uttered there was the note of a voice always remembered since those days with manette at winnipeg? not far away from the house, on the way to portage la drome, but a little distance from the road, was a crevasse, and towards this she sped, for once before an accident had happened there. again the voice called as she sped--"pauline!" and she cried out that she was coming. presently she stood above the declivity, and peered over. almost immediately below her, a few feet down, was a man lying in the snow. he had strayed from the obliterated road, and had fallen down the crevasse, twisting his foot cruelly. unable to walk he had crawled several hundred yards in the snow, but his strength had given out, and then he had called to the house, on whose dark windows flickered the flames of the fire, the name of the girl he had come so far to see. with a cry of joy and pain at once she recognised him now. it was as her heart had said--it was julien, manette's brother. in a moment she was beside him, her arm around his shoulder. "pauline!" he said feebly, and fainted in her arms. an instant later she was speeding to the house, and, rousing her mother and two of the stablemen, she snatched a flask of brandy from a cupboard and hastened back. an hour later julien labrosse lay in the great sitting-room beside the fire, his foot and ankle bandaged, and at ease, his face alight with all that had brought him there. and once again the indian mother with a sure instinct knew why he had come, and saw that now her girl would have a white woman's home, and, for her man, one of the race like her father's race, white and conquering. "i'm sorry to give trouble," julien said, laughing--he had a trick of laughing lightly; "but i'll be able to get back to the portage to-morrow." to this the indian mother said, however: "to please yourself is a great thing, but to please others is better; and so you will stay here till you can walk back to the portage, m'sieu' julien." "well, i've never been so comfortable," he said--"never so--happy. if you don't mind the trouble!" the indian woman nodded pleasantly, and found an excuse to leave the room. but before she went she contrived to place near his elbow one of the scraps of paper on which pauline had drawn his face, with that of manette. it brought a light of hope and happiness into his eyes, and he thrust the paper under the fur robes of the couch. "what are you doing with your life?" pauline asked him, as his eyes sought hers a few moments later. "oh, i have a big piece of work before me," he answered eagerly, "a great chance--to build a bridge over the st. lawrence, and i'm only thirty! i've got my start. then, i've made over the old seigneury my father left me, and i'm going to live in it. it will be a fine place, when i've done with it--comfortable and big, with old oak timbers and walls, and deep fireplaces, and carvings done in the time of louis quinze, and dark red velvet curtains for the drawingroom, and skins and furs. yes, i must have skins and furs like these here." he smoothed the skins with his hand. "manette, she will live with you?" pauline asked. "oh no, her husband wouldn't like that. you see, manette is to be married. she told me to tell you all about it." he told her all there was to tell of manette's courtship, and added that the wedding would take place in the spring. "manette wanted it when the leaves first flourish and the birds come back," he said gaily; "and so she's not going to live with me at the seigneury, you see. no, there it is, as fine a house, good enough for a prince, and i shall be there alone, unless--" his eyes met hers, and he caught the light that was in them, before the eyelids drooped over them and she turned her head to the fire. "but the spring is two months off yet," he added. "the spring?" she asked, puzzled, yet half afraid to speak. "yes, i'm going into my new house when manette goes into her new house-in the spring. and i won't go alone if--" he caught her eyes again, but she rose hurriedly and said: "you must sleep now. good-night." she held out her hand. "well, i'll tell you the rest to-morrow-to-morrow night when it's quiet like this, and the stars shine," he answered. "i'm going to have a home of my own like this--ah, bien sur, pauline." that night the old indian mother prayed to the sun. "o great spirit," she said, "i give thanks for the medicine poured into my heart. be good to my white child when she goes with her man to the white man's home far away. o great spirit, when i return to the lodges of my people, be kind to me, for i shall be lonely; i shall not have my child; i shall not hear my white man's voice. give me good medicine, o sun and great father, till my dream tells me that my man comes from over the hills for me once more." the stake and the plumb-line she went against all good judgment in marrying him; she cut herself off from her own people, from the life in which she had been an alluring and beautiful figure. washington had never had two such seasons as those in which she moved; for the diplomatic circle who had had "the run of the world" knew her value, and were not content without her. she might have made a brilliant match with one ambassador thirty years older than herself--she was but twenty-two; and there were at least six attaches and secretaries of legation who entered upon a tournament for her heart and hand; but she was not for them. all her fine faculties of tact and fairness, of harmless strategy, and her gifts of wit and unexpected humour were needed to keep her cavaliers constant and hopeful to the last; but she never faltered, and she did not fail. the faces of old men brightened when they saw her, and one or two ancient figures who, for years, had been seldom seen at social functions now came when they knew she was to be present. there were, of course, a few women who said she would coquette with any male from nine to ninety; but no man ever said so; and there was none, from first to last, but smiled with pleasure at even the mention of her name, so had her vivacity, intelligence, and fine sympathy conquered them. she was a social artist by instinct. in their hearts they all recognised how fair and impartial she was; and she drew out of every man the best that was in him. the few women who did not like her said that she chattered; but the truth was she made other people talk by swift suggestion or delicate interrogation. after the blow fell, freddy hartzman put the matter succinctly, and told the truth faithfully, when he said, "the first time i met her, i told her all i'd ever done that could be told, and all i wanted to do; including a resolve to carry her off to some desert place and set up a kingdom of two. i don't know how she did it. i was like a tap, and poured myself out; and when it was all over, i thought she was the best talker i'd ever heard. but yet she'd done nothing except look at me and listen, and put in a question here and there, that was like a baby asking to see your watch. oh, she was a lily-flower, was sally seabrook, and i've never been sorry i told her all my little story! it did me good. poor darling--it makes me sick sometimes when i think of it. yet she'll win out all right--a hundred to one she'll win out. she was a star." freddy hartzman was in an embassy of repute; he knew the chancelleries and salons of many nations, and was looked upon as one of the ablest and shrewdest men in the diplomatic service. he had written one of the best books on international law in existence, he talked english like a native, he had published a volume of delightful verse, and had omitted to publish several others, including a tiny volume which sally seabrook's charms had inspired him to write. his view of her was shared by most men who knew the world, and especially by the elderly men who had a real knowledge of human nature, among whom was a certain important member of the united states executive called john appleton. when the end of all things at washington came for sally, these two men united to bear her up, that her feet should not stumble upon the stony path of the hard journey she had undertaken. appleton was not a man of much speech, but his words had weight; for he was not only a minister; he came of an old family which had ruled the social destinies of a state, and had alternately controlled and disturbed its politics. on the day of the sensation, in the fiery cloud of which sally disappeared, appleton delivered himself of his mind in the matter at a reception given by the president. "she will come back--and we will all take her back, be glad to have her back," he said. "she has the grip of a lever which can lift the eternal hills with the right pressure. leave her alone--leave her alone. this is a democratic country, and she'll prove democracy a success before she's done." the world knew that john appleton had offered her marriage, and he had never hidden the fact. what they did not know was that she had told him what she meant to do before she did it. he had spoken to her plainly, bluntly, then with a voice that was blurred and a little broken, urging her against the course towards which she was set; but it had not availed; and, realising that he had come upon a powerful will underneath the sunny and so human surface, he had ceased to protest, to bear down upon her mind with his own iron force. when he realised that all his reasoning was wasted, that all worldly argument was vain, he made one last attempt, a forlorn hope, as though to put upon record what he believed to be the truth. "there is no position you cannot occupy," he said. "you have the perfect gift in private life, and you have a public gift. you have a genius for ruling. say, my dear, don't wreck it all. i know you are not for me, but there are better men in the country than i am. hartzman will be a great man one day--he wants you. young tilden wants you; he has millions, and he will never disgrace them or you, the power which they can command, and the power which you have. and there are others. your people have told you they will turn you off; the world will say things-will rend you. there is nothing so popular for the moment as the fall of a favourite. but that's nothing--it's nothing at all compared with the danger to yourself. i didn't sleep last night thinking of it. yet i'm glad you wrote me; it gave me time to think, and i can tell you the truth as i see it. haven't you thought that he will drag you down, down, down, wear out your soul, break and sicken your life, destroy your beauty--you are beautiful, my dear, beyond what the world sees, even. give it up-ah, give it up, and don't break our hearts! there are too many people loving you for you to sacrifice them--and yourself, too. . . . you've had such a good time!" "it's been like a dream," she interrupted, in a faraway voice, "like a dream, these two years." "and it's been such a good dream," he urged; "and you will only go to a bad one, from which you will never wake. the thing has fastened on him; he will never give it up. and penniless, too--his father has cast him off. my girl, it's impossible. listen to me. there's no one on earth that would do more for you than i would--no one." "dear, dear friend!" she cried with a sudden impulse, and caught his hand in hers and kissed it before he could draw it back. "you are so true, and you think you are right. but, but"--her eyes took on a deep, steady, far-away look--"but i will save him; and we shall not be penniless in the end. meanwhile i have seven hundred dollars a year of my own. no one can touch that. nothing can change me now--and i have promised." when he saw her fixed determination, he made no further protest, but asked that he might help her, be with her the next day, when she was to take a step which the wise world would say must lead to sorrow and a miserable end. the step she took was to marry jim templeton, the drunken, cast-off son of a millionaire senator from kentucky, who controlled railways, and owned a bank, and had so resented his son's inebriate habits that for five years he had never permitted jim's name to be mentioned in his presence. jim had had twenty thousand dollars left him by his mother, and a small income of three hundred dollars from an investment which had been made for him when a little boy. and this had carried him on; for, drunken as he was, he had sense enough to eke out the money, limiting himself to three thousand dollars a year. he had four thousand dollars left, and his tiny income of three hundred, when he went to sally seabrook, after having been sober for a month, and begged her to marry him. before dissipation had made him look ten years older than he was, there had been no handsomer man in all america. even yet he had a remarkable face; long, delicate, with dark brown eyes, as fair a forehead as man could wish, and black, waving hair, streaked with grey-grey, though he was but twenty-nine years of age. when sally was fifteen and he twenty-two, he had fallen in love with her and she with him; and nothing had broken the early romance. he had captured her young imagination, and had fastened his image on her heart. her people, seeing the drift of things, had sent her to a school on the hudson, and the two did not meet for some time. then came a stolen interview, and a fastening of the rivets of attraction--for jim had gifts of a wonderful kind. he knew his horace and anacreon and heine and lamartine and dante in the originals, and a hundred others; he was a speaker of power and grace; and he had a clear, strong head for business. he was also a lawyer, and was junior attorney to his father's great business. it was because he had the real business gift, not because he had a brilliant and scholarly mind, that his father had taken him into his concerns, and was the more unforgiving when he gave way to temptation. otherwise, he would have pensioned jim off, and dismissed him from his mind as a useless, insignificant person; for horace, anacreon, and philosophy and history were to him the recreations of the feeble-minded. he had set his heart on jim, and what jim could do and would do by and by in the vast financial concerns he controlled, when he was ready to slip out and down; but jim had disappointed him beyond calculation. in the early days of their association jim had left his post and taken to drink at critical moments in their operations. at first, high words had been spoken; then there came the strife of two dissimilar natures, and both were headstrong, and each proud and unrelenting in his own way. then, at last, had come the separation, irrevocable and painful; and jim had flung out into the world, a drunkard, who, sober for a fortnight or a month, or three months, would afterward go off on a spree, in which he quoted sappho and horace in taverns, and sang bacchanalian songs with a voice meant for the stage--a heritage from an ancestor who had sung upon the english stage a hundred years before. even in his cups, even after his darling vice had submerged him, jim templeton was a man marked out from his fellows, distinguished and very handsome. society, however, had ceased to recognise him for a long time, and he did not seek it. for two or three years he practised law now and then. he took cases, preferably criminal cases, for which very often he got no pay; but that, too, ceased at last. now, in his quiet, sober intervals he read omnivorously, and worked out problems in physics for which he had a taste, until the old appetite surged over him again. then his spirits rose, and he was the old brilliant talker, the joyous galliard until, in due time, he became silently and lethargically drunk. in one of his sober intervals he had met sally seabrook in the street. it was the first time in four years, for he had avoided her, and though she had written to him once or twice, he had never answered her--shame was in his heart. yet all the time the old song was in sally's ears. jim templeton had touched her in some distant and intimate corner of her nature where none other had reached; and in all her gay life, when men had told their tale of admiration in their own way, her mind had gone back to jim, and what he had said under the magnolia trees; and his voice had drowned all others. she was not blind to what he had become, but a deep belief possessed her that she, of all the world, could save him. she knew how futile it would look to the world, how wild a dream it looked even to her own heart, how perilous it was; but, play upon the surface of things as she had done so much and so often in her brief career, she was seized of convictions having origin, as it might seem, in something beyond herself. so when she and jim met in the street, the old true thing rushed upon them both, and for a moment they stood still and looked at each other. as they might look who say farewell forever, so did each dwell upon the other's face. that was the beginning of the new epoch. a few days more, and jim came to her and said that she alone could save him; and she meant him to say it, had led him to the saying, for the same conviction was burned deep in her own soul. she knew the awful risk she was taking, that the step must mean social ostracism, and that her own people would be no kinder to her than society; but she gasped a prayer, smiled at jim as though all were well, laid her plans, made him promise her one thing on his knees, and took the plunge. her people did as she expected. she was threatened with banishment from heart and home--with disinheritance; but she pursued her course; and the only person who stood with her and jim at the altar was john appleton, who would not be denied, and who had such a half-hour with jim before the ceremony as neither of them forgot in the years that the locust ate thereafter. and, standing at the altar, jim's eyes were still wet, with new resolves in his heart and a being at his side meant for the best man in the world. as he knelt beside her, awaiting the benediction, a sudden sense of the enormity of this act came upon him, and for her sake he would have drawn back then, had it not been too late. he realised that it was a crime to put this young, beautiful life in peril; that his own life was a poor, contemptible thing, and that he had been possessed of the egotism of the selfish and the young. but the thing was done, and a new life was begun. before they were launched upon it, however, before society had fully grasped the sensation, or they had left upon their journey to northern canada, where sally intended they should work out their problem and make their home, far and free from all old associations, a curious thing happened. jim's father sent an urgent message to sally to come to him. when she came, he told her she was mad, and asked her why she had thrown her life away. "why have you done it?" he said. "you--you knew all about him; you might have married the best man in the country. you could rule a kingdom; you have beauty and power, and make people do what you want: and you've got a sot." "he is your son," she answered quietly. she looked so beautiful and so fine as she stood there, fearless and challenging before him, that he was moved. but he would not show it. "he was my son--when he was a man," he retorted grimly. "he is the son of the woman you once loved," she answered. the old man turned his head away. "what would she have said to what you did to jim?" he drew himself around sharply. her dagger had gone home, but he would not let her know it. "leave her out of the question--she was a saint," he said roughly. "she cannot be left out; nor can you. he got his temperament naturally; he inherited his weakness from your grandfather, from her father. do you think you are in no way responsible?" he was silent for a moment, but then said stubbornly: "why--why have you done it? what's between him and me can't be helped; we are father and son; but you--you had no call, no responsibility." "i love jim. i always loved him, ever since i can remember, as you did. i see my way ahead. i will not desert him. no one cares what happens to him, no one but me. your love wouldn't stand the test; mine will." "your folks have disinherited you,--you have almost nothing, and i will not change my mind. what do you see ahead of you?" "jim--only jim--and god." her eyes were shining, her hands were clasped together at her side in the tenseness of her feeling, her indomitable spirit spoke in her face. suddenly the old man brought his fist down on the table with a bang. "it's a crime--oh, it's a crime, to risk your life so! you ought to have been locked up. i'd have done it." "listen to me," she rejoined quietly. "i know the risk. but do you think that i could have lived my life out, feeling that i might have saved jim, and didn't try? you talk of beauty and power and ruling--you say what others have said to me. which is the greater thing, to get what pleases one, or to work for something which is more to one than all else in the world? to save one life, one intellect, one great man--oh, he has the making of a great man in him!--to save a soul, would not life be well lost, would not love be well spent in doing it?" "love's labour lost," said the old man slowly, cynically, but not without emotion. "i have ambition," she continued. "no girl was ever more ambitious, but my ambition is to make the most and best of myself. place?--jim and i will hold it yet. power?--it shall be as it must be; but jim and i will work for it to fulfil ourselves. for me--ah, if i can save him--and i mean to do so--do you think that i would not then have my heaven on earth? you want money--money--money, power, and to rule; and these are to you the best things in the world. i make my choice differently, though i would have these other things if i could; and i hope i shall. but jim first--jim first, your son, jim--my husband, jim." the old man got to his feet slowly. she had him at bay. "but you are great," he said, "great! it is an awful stake--awful. yet if you win, you'll have what money can't buy. and listen to me. we'll make the stake bigger. it will give it point, too, in another way. if you keep jim sober for four years from the day of your marriage, on the last day of that four years i'll put in your hands for you and him, or for your child--if you have one--five millions of dollars. i am a man of my word. while jim drinks i won't take him back; he's disinherited. i'll give him nothing now or hereafter. save him for four years,--if he can do that he will do all, and there's five millions as sure as the sun's in heaven. amen and amen." he opened the door. there was a strange soft light in her eyes as she came to go. "aren't you going to kiss me?" she said, looking at him whimsically. he was disconcerted. she did not wait, but reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "good-by," she said with a smile. "we'll win the stake. good-by." an instant, and she was gone. he shut the door, then turned and looked in a mirror on the wall. abstractedly he touched the cheek she had kissed. suddenly a change passed over his face. he dropped in a chair, and his fist struck the table as he said: "by god, she may do it, she may do it! but it's life and death--it's life and death." society had its sensation, and then the veil dropped. for a long time none looked behind it except jim's father. he had too much at stake not to have his telescope upon them. a detective followed them to keep jim's record. but this they did not know. ii from the day they left washington jim put his life and his fate in his wife's hands. he meant to follow her judgment, and, self-willed and strong in intellect as he was, he said that she should have a fair chance of fulfilling her purpose. there had been many pour parlers as to what jim should do. there was farming. she set that aside, because it meant capital, and it also meant monotony and loneliness; and capital was limited, and monotony and loneliness were bad for jim, deadening an active brain which must not be deprived of stimulants--stimulants of a different sort, however, from those which had heretofore mastered it. there was the law. but jim would have to become a citizen of canada, change his flag, and where they meant to go--to the outskirts--there would be few opportunities for the law; and with not enough to do there would be danger. railway construction? that seemed good in many ways, but jim had not the professional knowledge necessary; his railway experience with his father had only been financial. above all else he must have responsibility, discipline, and strict order in his life. "something that will be good for my natural vanity, and knock the nonsense out of me," jim agreed, as they drew farther and farther away from washington and the past, and nearer and nearer to the far north and their future. never did two more honest souls put their hands in each other's, and set forth upon the thorniest path to a goal which was their hearts' desire. since they had become one, there had come into sally's face that illumination which belongs only to souls possessed of an idea greater than themselves, outside themselves--saints, patriots; faces which have been washed in the salt tears dropped for others' sorrows, and lighted by the fire of self-sacrifice. sally seabrook, the highspirited, the radiant, the sweetly wilful, the provoking, to concentrate herself upon this narrow theme--to reconquer the lost paradise of one vexed mortal soul! what did jim's life mean?--it was only one in the millions coming and going, and every man must work out his own salvation. why should she cramp her soul to this one issue, when the same soul could spend itself upon the greater motives and in the larger circle? a wide world of influence had opened up before her; position, power, adulation, could all have been hers, as john appleton and jim's father had said. she might have moved in well-trodden ways, through gardens of pleasure, lived a life where all would be made easy, where she would be shielded at every turn, and her beauty would be flattered by luxury into a constant glow. she was not so primitive, so unintellectual, as not to have thought of this, else her decision would have had less importance; she would have been no more than an infatuated emotional woman with a touch of second class drama in her nature. she had thought of it all, and she had made her choice. the easier course was the course for meaner souls, and she had not one vein of thin blood nor a small idea in her whole nature. she had a heart and mind for great issues. she believed that jim had a great brain, and would and could accomplish great things. she knew that he had in him the strain of hereditary instinct--his mother's father had ended a brief life in a drunken duel on the mississippi, and jim's boyhood had never had discipline or direction, or any strenuous order. he might never acquire order, and the power that order and habit and the daily iteration of necessary thoughts and acts bring; but the prospect did not appal her. she had taken the risk with her eyes wide open; had set her own life and happiness in the hazard. but jim must be saved, must be what his talents, his genius, entitled him to be. and the long game must have the long thought. so, as they drew into the great saskatchewan valley, her hand in his, and hope in his eyes, and such a look of confidence and pride in her as brought back his old strong beauty of face, and smoothed the careworn lines of self-indulgence, she gave him his course: as a private he must join the north-west mounted police, the red-coated riders of the plains, and work his way up through every stage of responsibility, beginning at the foot of the ladder of humbleness and self-control. she believed that he would agree with her proposal; but her hands clasped his a little more firmly and solicitously--there was a faint, womanly fear at her heart-as she asked him if he would do it. the life meant more than occasional separation; it meant that there would be periods when she would not be with him; and there was great danger in that; but she knew that the risks must be taken, and he must not be wholly reliant on her presence for his moral strength. his face fell for a moment when she made the suggestion, but it cleared presently, and he said with a dry laugh: "well, i guess they must make me a sergeant pretty quick. i'm a colonel in the kentucky carbineers!" she laughed, too; then a moment afterwards, womanlike, wondered if she was right, and was a little frightened. but that was only because she was not self-opinionated, and was anxious, more anxious than any woman in all the north. it happened as jim said; he was made a sergeant at once--sally managed that; for, when it came to the point, and she saw the conditions in which the privates lived, and realised that jim must be one of them and clean out the stables, and groom his horse and the officers' horses, and fetch and carry, her heart failed her, and she thought that she was making her remedy needlessly heroical. so she went to see the commissioner, who was on a tour of scrutiny on their arrival at the post, and, as better men than he had done in more knowing circles, he fell under her spell. if she had asked for a lieutenancy, he would probably have corrupted some member of parliament into securing it for jim. but jim was made a sergeant, and the commissioner and the captain of the troop kept their eyes on him. so did other members of the troop who did not quite know their man, and attempted, figuratively, to pinch him here and there. they found that his actions were greater than his words, and both were in perfect harmony in the end, though his words often seemed pointless to their minds, until they understood that they had conveyed truths through a medium more like a heliograph than a telephone. by and by they begin to understand his heliographing, and, when they did that, they began to swear by him, not at him. in time it was found that the troop never had a better disciplinarian than jim. he knew when to shut his eyes, and when to keep them open. to non-essentials he kept his eyes shut; to essentials he kept them very wide open. there were some men of good birth from england and elsewhere among them, and these mostly understood him first. but they all understood sally from the beginning, and after a little they were glad enough to be permitted to come, on occasion, to the five-roomed little house near the barracks, and hear her talk, then answer her questions, and, as men had done at washington, open out their hearts to her. they noticed, however, that while she made them barley-water, and all kinds of soft drinks from citric acid, sarsaparilla and the like, and had one special drink of her own invention, which she called cream-nectar, no spirits were to be had. they also noticed that jim never drank a drop of liquor, and by and by, one way or another, they got a glimmer of the real truth, before it became known who he really was or anything of his story. and the interest in the two, and in jim's reformation, spread through the country, while jim gained reputation as the smartest man in the force. they were on the outskirts of civilisation; as jim used to say, "one step ahead of the procession." jim's duty was to guard the columns of settlement and progress, and to see that every man got his own rights and not more than his rights; that justice should be the plumb-line of march and settlement. his principle was embodied in certain words which he quoted once to sally from the prophet amos: "and the lord said unto me, amos, what seest thou? and i said, a plumbline." on the day that jim became a lieutenant his family increased by one. it was a girl, and they called her nancy, after jim's mother. it was the anniversary of their marriage, and, so far, jim had won, with what fightings and strugglings and wrestlings of the spirit only sally and himself knew. and she knew as well as he, and always saw the storm coming before it broke--a restlessness, then a moodiness, then a hungry, eager, helpless look, and afterwards an agony of longing, a feverish desire to break away and get the thrilling thing which would still the demon within him. there had been moments when his doom seemed certain--he knew and she knew that if he once got drunk again he would fall never to rise. on one occasion, after a hard, long, hungry ride, he was half-mad with desire, but even as he seized the flask that was offered to him by his only enemy, the captain of b troop, at the next station eastward, there came a sudden call to duty, two hundred indians having gone upon the war-path. it saved him; it broke the spell. he had to mount and away, with the antidote and stimulant of responsibility driving him on. another occasion was equally perilous to his safety. they had been idle for days in a hot week in summer, waiting for orders to return from the rail-head where they had gone to quell a riot, and where drink and hilarity were common. suddenly--more suddenly than it had ever come, the demon of his thirst had jim by the throat. sergeant sewell, of the greystubble head, who loved him more than his sour heart had loved anybody in all his life, was holding himself ready for the physical assault he must make upon his superior officer, if he raised a glass to his lips, when salvation came once again. an accident had occurred far down on the railway line, and the operator of the telegraph-office had that very day been stricken down with pleurisy and pneumonia. in despair the manager had sent to jim, eagerly hoping that he might help them, for the riders of the plains were a sort of court of appeal for every trouble in the far north. instantly jim was in the saddle with his troop. out of curiosity he had learned telegraphy when a boy, as he had learned many things, and, arrived at the scene of the accident, he sent messages and received them-by sound, not on paper as did the official operator, to the amazement and pride of the troop. then, between caring for the injured in the accident, against the coming of the relief train, and nursing the sick operator through the dark moments of his dangerous illness, he passed a crisis of his own disease triumphantly; but not the last crisis. so the first and so the second and third years passed in safety. iii "please, i want to go, too, jim." jim swung round and caught the child up in his arms. "say, how dare you call your father jim--eh, tell me that?" "it's what mummy calls you--it's pretty." "i don't call her 'mummy' because you do, and you mustn't call me jim because she does--do you hear?" the whimsical face lowered a little, then the rare and beautiful dark blue eyes raised slowly, shaded by the long lashes, and the voice said demurely, "yes--jim." "nancy--nancy," said a voice from the corner in reproof, mingled with suppressed laughter. "nancy, you musn't be saucy. you must say 'father' to--" "yes, mummy. i'll say father to--jim." "you imp--you imp of delight," said jim, as he strained the dainty little lass to his breast, while she appeared interested in a wave of his black hair, which she curled around her finger. sally came forwards with the little parcel of sandwiches she had been preparing, and put them in the saddle-bags lying on a chair at the door, in readiness for the journey jim was about to make. her eyes were glistening, and her face had a heightened colour. the three years which had passed since she married had touched her not at all to her disadvantage, rather to her profit. she looked not an hour older; motherhood had only added to her charm, lending it a delightful gravity. the prairie life had given a shining quality to her handsomeness, an air of depth and firmness, an exquisite health and clearness to the colour in her cheeks. her step was as light as nancy's, elastic and buoyant-a gliding motion which gave a sinuous grace to the movements of her body. there had also come into her eyes a vigilance such as deaf people possess, a sensitive observation imparting a deeper intelligence to the face. here was the only change by which you could guess the story of her life. her eyes were like the ears of an anxious mother who can never sleep till every child is abed; whose sense is quick to hear the faintest footstep without or within; and who, as years go on, and her children grow older and older, must still lie awake hearkening for the late footstep on the stair. in sally's eyes was the story of the past three years: of love and temptation and struggle, of watchfulness and yearning and anxiety, of determination and an inviolable hope. her eyes had a deeper look than that in jim's. now, as she gazed at him, the maternal spirit rose up from the great well of protectiveness in her and engulfed both husband and child. there was always something of the maternal in her eyes when she looked at jim. he did not see it--he saw only the wonderful blue, and the humour which had helped him over such difficult places these past three years. in steadying and strengthening jim's will, in developing him from his southern indolence into northern industry and sense of responsibility, john appleton's warnings had rung in sally's ears, and freddy hartzman's forceful and high-minded personality had passed before her eyes with an appeal powerful and stimulating; but always she came to the same upland of serene faith and white-hearted resolve; and jim became dearer and dearer. the baby had done much to brace her faith in the future and comfort her anxious present. the child had intelligence of a rare order. she would lie by the half-hour on the floor, turning over the leaves of a book without pictures, and, before she could speak, would read from the pages in a language all her own. she made a fairy world for herself, peopled by characters to whom she gave names, to whom she assigned curious attributes and qualities. they were as real to her as though flesh and blood, and she was never lonely, and never cried; and she had buried herself in her father's heart. she had drawn to her the roughest men in the troop, and for old sewell, the grim sergeant, she had a specially warm place. "you can love me if you like," she had said to him at the very start, with the egotism of childhood; but made haste to add, "because i love you, gri-gri." she called him gri-gri from the first, but they knew only long afterwards that "gri-gri" meant "grey-grey," to signify that she called him after his grizzled hairs. what she had been in the life-history of sally and jim they both knew. jim regarded her with an almost superstitious feeling. sally was his strength, his support, his inspiration, his bulwark of defence; nancy was the charm he wore about his neck--his mascot, he called her. once, when she was ill, he had suffered as he had never done before in his life. he could not sleep nor eat, and went about his duties like one in a dream. when his struggles against his enemy were fiercest, he kept saying over her name to himself, as though she could help him. yet always it was sally's hand he held in the darkest hours, in his brutal moments; for in this fight between appetite and will there are moments when only the animal seems to exist, and the soul disappears in the glare and gloom of the primal emotions. nancy he called his "lucky sixpence," but he called sally his "guinea-girl." from first to last his whimsicality never deserted him. in his worst hours, some innate optimism and humour held him steady in his fight. it was not depression that possessed him at the worst, but the violence of an appetite most like a raging pain which men may endure with a smile upon their lips. he carried in his face the story of a conflict, the aftermath of bitter experience; and through all there pulsed the glow of experience. he had grown handsomer, and the graceful decision of his figure, the deliberate certainty of every action, heightened the force of a singular personality. as in the eyes of sally, in his eyes was a long reflective look which told of things overcome, and yet of dangers present. his lips smiled often, but the eyes said: "i have lived, i have seen, i have suffered, and i must suffer more. i have loved, i have been loved under the shadow of the sword. happiness i have had, and golden hours, but not peace--never peace. my soul has need of peace." in the greater, deeper experience of their lives, the more material side of existence had grown less and less to them. their home was a model of simple comfort and some luxury, though jim had insisted that sally's income should not be spent, except upon the child, and should be saved for the child, their home being kept on his pay and on the tiny income left by his mother. with the help of an indian girl, and a half-breed for outdoor work and fires and gardening, sally had cared for the house herself. ingenious and tasteful, with a gift for cooking and an educated hand, she had made her little home as pretty as their few possessions would permit. refinement covered all, and three or four-score books were like so many friends to comfort her when jim was away; like kind and genial neighbours when he was at home. from browning she had written down in her long sliding handwriting, and hung up beneath jim's lookingglass, the heartening and inspiring words: "one who never turned his back, but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake." they had lived above the sordid, and there was something in the nature of jim's life to help them to it. he belonged to a small handful of men who had control over an empire, with an individual responsibility and influence not contained in the scope of their commissions. it was a matter of moral force and character, and of uniform, symbolical only of the great power behind; of the long arm of the state; of the insistence of the law, which did not rely upon force alone, but on the certainty of its administration. in such conditions the smallest brain was bound to expand, to take on qualities of judgment and temperateness which would never be developed in ordinary circumstances. in the case of jim templeton, who needed no stimulant to his intellect, but rather a steadying quality, a sense of proportion, the daily routine, the command of men, the diverse nature of his duties, half civil, half military, the personal appeals made on all sides by the people of the country for advice, for help, for settlement of disputes, for information which his well-instructed mind could give--all these modified the romantic brilliance of his intellect, made it and himself more human. it had not come to him all at once. his intellect at first stood in his way. his love of paradox, his deep observation, his insight, all made him inherently satirical, though not cruelly so; but satire had become pure whimsicality at last; and he came to see that, on the whole, the world was imperfect, but also, on the whole, was moving towards perfection rather than imperfection. he grew to realise that what seemed so often weakness in men was tendency and idiosyncrasy rather than evil. and in the end he thought better of himself as he came to think better of all others. for he had thought less of all the world because he had thought so little of himself. he had overestimated his own faults, had made them into crimes in his own eyes, and, observing things in others of similar import, had become almost a cynic in intellect, while in heart he had remained, a boy. in all that he had changed a great deal. his heart was still the heart of a boy, but his intellect had sobered, softened, ripened--even in this secluded and seemingly unimportant life; as sally had said and hoped it would. sally's conviction had been right. but the triumph was not yet achieved. she knew it. on occasion the tones of his voice told her, the look that came into his eyes proclaimed it to her, his feverishness and restlessness made it certain. how many a night had she thrown her arm over his shoulder, and sought his hand and held it while in the dark silence, wide-eyed, dry-lipped, and with a throat like fire he had held himself back from falling. there was liquor in the house--the fight would not have been a fight without it. she had determined that he should see his enemy and meet him in the plains and face him down; and he was never many feet away from his possible disaster. yet for long over three years all had gone well. there was another year. would he last out the course? at first the thought of the great stake for which she was playing in terms of currency, with the head of jim's father on every note, was much with her. the amazing nature of the offer of five millions of dollars stimulated her imagination, roused her; gold coins are counters in the game of success, signs and tokens. money alone could not have lured her; but rather what it represented--power, width of action, freedom to help when the heart prompted, machinery for carrying out large plans, ability to surround with advantage those whom we love. so, at first, while yet the memories of washington were much with her, the appeal of the millions was strong. the gallant nature of the contest and the great stake braced her; she felt the blood quicken in her pulse. but, all through, the other thing really mastered her: the fixed idea that jim must be saved. as it deepened, the other life that she had lived became like the sports in which we shared when children, full of vivacious memory, shining with impulse and the stir of life, but not to be repeated--days and deeds outgrown. so the light of one idea shone in her face. yet she was intensely human too; and if her eyes had not been set on the greater glory, the other thought might have vulgarised her mind, made her end and goal sordid--the descent of a nature rather than its ascension. when nancy came, the lesser idea, the stake, took on a new importance, for now it seemed to her that it was her duty to secure for the child its rightful heritage. then jim, too, appeared in a new light, as one who could never fulfil himself unless working through the natural channels of his birth, inheritance, and upbringing. jim, drunken and unreliable, with broken will and fighting to find himself--the waste places were for him, until he was the master of his will and emotions. once however, secure in ability to control himself, with cleansed brain and purpose defined, the widest field would still be too narrow for his talents--and the five, yes, the fifty millions of his father must be his. she had never repented having married jim; but twice in those three years she had broken down and wept as though her heart would break. there were times when jim's nerves were shaken in his struggle against the unseen foe, and he had spoken to her querulously, almost sharply. yet in her tears there was no reproach for him, rather for herself--the fear that she might lose her influence over him, that she could not keep him close to her heart, that he might drift away from her in the commonplaces and monotony of work and domestic life. everything so depended on her being to him not only the one woman for whom he cared, but the woman without whom he could care for nothing else. "oh, my god, give me his love," she had prayed. "let me keep it yet a little while. for his sake, not for my own, let me have the power to hold his love. make my mind always quiet, and let me blow neither hot nor cold. help me to keep my temper sweet and cheerful, so that he will find the room empty where i am not, and his footsteps will quicken when he comes to the door. not for my sake, dear god, but for his, or my heart will break--it will break unless thou dost help me to hold him. o lord, keep me from tears; make my face happy that i may be goodly to his eyes, and forgive the selfishness of a poor woman who has little, and would keep her little and cherish it, for christ's sake." twice had she poured out her heart so, in the agony of her fear that she should lose favour in jim's sight--she did not know how alluring she was, in spite of the constant proofs offered her. she had had her will with all who came her way, from governor to indian brave. once, in a journey they had made far north, soon after they came, she had stayed at a hudson's bay company's post for some days, while there came news of restlessness among the indians, because of lack of food, and jim had gone farther north to steady the tribes, leaving her with the factor and his wife and a halfbreed servant. while she and the factor's wife were alone in the yard of the post one day, an indian--chief, arrowhead, in warpaint and feathers, entered suddenly, brandishing a long knife. he had been drinking, and there was danger in his black eyes. with a sudden inspiration she came forward quickly, nodded and smiled to him, and then pointed to a grindstone standing in the corner of the yard. as she did so, she saw indians crowding into the gate armed with knives, guns, bows, and arrows. she beckoned to arrowhead, and he followed her to the grindstone. she poured some water on the wheel and began to turn it, nodding at the now impassive indian to begin. presently he nodded also, and put his knife on the stone. she kept turning steadily, singing to herself the while, as with anxiety she saw the indians drawing closer and closer in from the gate. faster and faster she turned, and at last the indian lifted his knife from the stone. she reached out her hand with simulated interest, felt the edge with her thumb, the indian looking darkly at her the while. presently, after feeling the edge himself, he bent over the stone again, and she went on turning the wheel still singing softly. at last he stopped again and felt the edge. with a smile which showed her fine white teeth, she said, "is that for me?" making a significant sign across her throat at the same time. the old indian looked at her grimly, then slowly shook his head in negation. "i go hunt yellow hawk to-night," he said. "i go fight; i like marry you when i come back. how!" he said and turned away towards the gate. some of his braves held back, the blackness of death in their looks. he saw. "my knife is sharp," he said. "the woman is brave. she shall live--go and fight yellow hawk, or starve and die." divining their misery, their hunger, and the savage thought that had come to them, sally had whispered to the factor's wife to bring food, and the woman now came running out with two baskets full, and returned for more. sally ran forward among the indians and put the food into their hands. with grunts of satisfaction they seized what she gave, and thrust it into their mouths, squatting on the ground. arrowhead looked on stern and immobile, but when at last she and the factor's wife sat down before the braves with confidence and an air of friendliness, he sat down also; yet, famished as he was, he would not touch the food. at last sally, realising his proud defiance of hunger, offered him a little lump of pemmican and a biscuit, and with a grunt he took it from her hands and ate it. then, at his command a fire was lit, the pipe of peace was brought out, and sally and the factor's wife touched their lips to it, and passed it on. so was a new treaty of peace and loyalty made with arrowhead and his tribe by a woman without fear, whose life had seemed not worth a minute's purchase; and, as the sun went down, arrowhead and his men went forth to make war upon yellow hawk beside the nettigon river. in this wise had her influence spread in the land. ....................... standing now with the child in his arms and his wife looking at him with a shining moisture of the eyes, jim laughed outright. there came upon him a sudden sense of power, of aggressive force--the will to do. sally understood, and came and laughingly grasped his arm. "oh, jim," she said playfully, "you are getting muscles like steel. you hadn't these when you were colonel of the kentucky carbineers!" "i guess i need them now," he said, smiling, and with the child still in his arms drew her to a window looking northward. as far as the eye could see, nothing but snow, like a blanket spread over the land. here and there in the wide expanse a tree silhouetted against the sky, a tracery of eccentric beauty, and off in the far distance a solitary horseman riding towards the postriding hard. "it was root, hog, or die with me, sally," he continued, "and i rooted. . . . i wonder--that fellow on the horse--i have a feeling about him. see, he's been riding hard and long-you can tell by the way the horse drops his legs. he sags a bit himself. . . . but isn't it beautiful, all that out there--the real quintessence of life." the air was full of delicate particles of frost on which the sun sparkled, and though there was neither bird nor insect, nor animal, nor stir of leaf, nor swaying branch or waving grass, life palpitated in the air, energy sang its song in the footstep that crunched the frosty ground, that broke the crusted snow; it was in the delicate wind that stirred the flag by the barracks away to the left; hope smiled in the wide prospect over which the thrilling, bracing air trembled. sally had chosen right. "you had a big thought when you brought me here, guinea-girl," he added presently. "we are going to win out here"--he set the child down--"you and i and this lucky sixpence." he took up his short fur coat. "yes, we'll win, honey." then, with a brooding look in his face, he added: "'the end comes as came the beginning, and shadows fail into the past; and the goal, is it not worth the winning, if it brings us but home at the last? "'while far through the pain of waste places we tread, 'tis a blossoming rod that drives us to grace from disgraces, from the fens to the gardens of god!'" he paused reflectively. "it's strange that this life up here makes you feel that you must live a bigger life still, that this is only the wide porch to the great labour-house--it makes you want to do things. well, we've got to win the stake first," he added with a laugh. "the stake is a big one, jim--bigger than you think." "you and her and me--me that was in the gutter." "what is the gutter, dadsie?" asked nancy. "the gutter--the gutter is where the dish-water goes, midget," he answered with a dry laugh. "oh, i don't think you'd like to be in the gutter," nancy said solemnly. "you have to get used to it first, miss," answered jim. suddenly sally laid both hands on jim's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "you must win the stake jim. think--now!" she laid a hand on the head of the child. he did not know that he was playing for a certain five millions, perhaps fifty millions, of dollars. she had never told him of his father's offer. he was fighting only for salvation, for those he loved, for freedom. as they stood there, the conviction had come upon her that they had come to the last battle-field, that this journey which jim now must take would decide all, would give them perfect peace or lifelong pain. the shadow of battle was over them, but he had no foreboding, no premonition; he had never been so full of spirits and life. to her adjuration jim replied by burying his face in her golden hair, and he whispered: "say, i've done near four years, my girl. i think i'm all right now--i think. this last six months, it's been easy--pretty fairly easy." "four months more, only four months more--god be good to us!" she said with a little gasp. if he held out for four months more, the first great stage in their life --journey would be passed, the stake won. "i saw a woman get an awful fall once," jim said suddenly. "her bones were broken in twelve places, and there wasn't a spot on her body without injury. they set and fixed up every broken bone except one. it was split down. they didn't dare perform the operation; she couldn't stand it. there was a limit to pain, and she had reached the boundary. two years went by, and she got better every way, but inside her leg those broken pieces of bone were rubbing against each other. she tried to avoid the inevitable operation, but nature said, 'you must do it, or die in the end.' she yielded. then came the long preparations for the operation. her heart shrank, her mind got tortured. she'd suffered too much. she pulled herself together, and said, 'i must conquer this shrinking body of mine, by my will. how shall i do it?' something within her said, 'think and do for others. forget yourself.' and so, as they got her ready for her torture, she visited hospitals, agonised cripple as she was, and smiled and talked to the sick and broken, telling them of her own miseries endured and dangers faced, of the boundary of human suffering almost passed; and so she got her courage for her own trial. and she came out all right in the end. well, that's the way i've felt sometimes. but i'm ready for my operation now whenever it comes, and it's coming, i know. let it come when it must." he smiled. there came a knock at the door, and presently sewell entered. "the commissioner wishes you to come over, sir," he said. "i was just coming, sewell. is all ready for the start?" "everything's ready, sir, but there's to be a change of orders. something's happened--a bad job up in the cree country, i think." a few minutes later jim was in the commissioner's office. the murder of a hudson's bay company's man had been committed in the cree country. the stranger whom jim and sally had seen riding across the plains had brought the news for thirty miles, word of the murder having been carried from point to point. the commissioner was uncertain what to do, as the crees were restless through want of food and the absence of game, and a force sent to capture arrowhead, the chief who had committed the murder, might precipitate trouble. jim solved the problem by offering to go alone and bring the chief into the post. it was two hundred miles to the cree encampment, and the journey had its double dangers. another officer was sent on the expedition for which jim had been preparing, and he made ready to go upon his lonely duty. his wife did not know till three days after he had gone what the nature of his mission was. iv jim made his journey in good weather with his faithful dogs alone, and came into the camp of the crees armed with only a revolver. if he had gone with ten men, there would have been an instant melee, in which he would have lost his life. this is what the chief had expected, had prepared for; but jim was more formidable alone, with power far behind him which could come with force and destroy the tribe, if resistance was offered, than with fifty men. his tongue had a gift of terse and picturesque speech, powerful with a people who had the gift of imagination. with five hundred men ready to turn him loose in the plains without dogs or food, he carried himself with a watchful coolness and complacent determination which got home to their minds with great force. for hours the struggle for the murderer went on, a struggle of mind over inferior mind and matter. arrowhead was a chief whose will had never been crossed by his own people, and to master that will by a superior will, to hold back the destructive force which, to the ignorant minds of the braves, was only a natural force of defence, meant a task needing more than authority behind it. for the very fear of that authority put in motion was an incentive to present resistance to stave off the day of trouble. the faces that surrounded jim were thin with hunger, and the murder that had been committed by the chief had, as its origin, the foolish replies of the hudson's bay company's man to their demand for supplies. arrowhead had killed him with his own hand. but jim templeton was of a different calibre. although he had not been told it, he realised that, indirectly, hunger was the cause of the crime and might easily become the cause of another; for their tempers were sharper even than their appetites. upon this he played; upon this he made an exhortation to the chief. he assumed that arrowhead had become violent, because of his people's straits, that arrowhead's heart yearned for his people and would make sacrifice for them. now, if arrowhead came quietly, he would see that supplies of food were sent at once, and that arrangements were made to meet the misery of their situation. therefore, if arrowhead came freely, he would have so much in his favour before his judges; if he would not come quietly, then he must be brought by force; and if they raised a hand to prevent it, then destruction would fall upon all--all save the women and children. the law must be obeyed. they might try to resist the law through him, but, if violence was shown, he would first kill arrowhead, and then destruction would descend like a wind out of the north, darkness would swallow them, and their bones would cover the plains. as he ended his words a young brave sprang forwards with hatchet raised. jim's revolver slipped down into his palm from his sleeve, and a bullet caught the brave in the lifted arm. the hatchet dropped to the ground. then jim's eyes blazed, and he turned a look of anger on the chief, his face pale and hard, as he said: "the stream rises above the banks; come with me, chief, or all will drown. i am master, and i speak. ye are hungry because ye are idle. ye call the world yours, yet ye will not stoop to gather from the earth the fruits of the earth. ye sit idle in the summer, and women and children die round you when winter comes. because the game is gone, ye say. must the world stand still because a handful of crees need a hunting-ground? must the makers of cities and the wonders of the earth, who fill the land with plenty--must they stand far off, because the crees and their chief would wander over millions of acres, for each man a million, when by a hundred, ay, by ten, each white man would live in plenty, and make the land rejoice. see. here is the truth. when the great spirit draws the game away so that the hunting is poor, ye sit down and fill your hearts with murder, and in the blackness of your thoughts kill my brother. idle and shiftless and evil ye are, while the earth cries out to give you of its plenty, a great harvest from a little seed, if ye will but dig and plant, and plough and sow and reap, and lend your backs to toil. now hear and heed. the end is come. "for this once ye shall be fed--by the blood of my heart, ye shall be fed! and another year ye shall labour, and get the fruits of your labour, and not stand waiting, as it were, till a fish shall pass the spear, or a stag water at your door, that ye may slay and eat. the end is come, ye idle men. o chief, harken! one of your braves would have slain me, even as you slew my brother--he one, and you a thousand. speak to your people as i have spoken, and then come and answer for the deed done by your hand. and this i say that right shall be done between men and men. speak." jim had made his great effort, and not without avail. arrowhead rose slowly, the cloud gone out of his face, and spoke to his people, bidding them wait in peace until food came, and appointing his son chief in his stead until his return. "the white man speaks truth, and i will go," he said. "i shall return," he continued, "if it be written so upon the leaves of the tree of life; and if it be not so written, i shall fade like a mist, and the tepees will know me not again. the days of my youth are spent, and my step no longer springs from the ground. i shuffle among the grass and the fallen leaves, and my eyes scarce know the stag from the doe. the white man is master--if he wills it we shall die, if he wills it we shall live. and this was ever so. it is in the tale of our people. one tribe ruled, and the others were their slaves. if it is written on the leaves of the tree of life that the white man rule us for ever, then it shall be so. i have spoken. now, behold i go." jim had conquered, and together they sped away with the dogs through the sweet-smelling spruce woods where every branch carried a cloth of white, and the only sound heard was the swish of a blanket of snow as it fell to the ground from the wide webs of green, or a twig snapped under the load it bore. peace brooded in the silent and comforting forest, and jim and arrowhead, the indian ever ahead, swung along, mile after mile, on their snow-shoes, emerging at last upon the wide white prairie. a hundred miles of sun and fair weather, sleeping at night in the open in a trench dug in the snow, no fear in the thoughts of jim, nor evil in the heart of the heathen man. there had been moments of watchfulness, of uncertainty, on jim's part, the first few hours of the first night after they left the cree reservation; but the conviction speedily came to jim that all was well; for the chief slept soundly from the moment he lay down in his blankets between the dogs. then jim went to sleep as in his own bed, and, waking, found arrowhead lighting a fire from a little load of sticks from the sledges. and between murderer and captor there sprang up the companionship of the open road which brings all men to a certain land of faith and understanding, unless they are perverted and vile. there was no vileness in arrowhead. there were no handcuffs on his hands, no sign of captivity; they two ate out of the same dish, drank from the same basin, broke from the same bread. the crime of arrowhead, the gallows waiting for him, seemed very far away. they were only two silent travellers, sharing the same hardship, helping to give material comfort to each other--in the inevitable democracy of those far places, where small things are not great nor great things small; where into men's hearts comes the knowledge of the things that matter; where, from the wide, starry sky, from the august loneliness, and the soul of the life which has brooded there for untold generations, god teaches the values of this world and the next. one hundred miles of sun and fair weather, and then fifty miles of bitter, aching cold, with nights of peril from the increasing chill, so that jim dared not sleep lest he should never wake again, but die benumbed and exhausted. yet arrowhead slept through all. day after day so, and then ten miles of storm such as come only to the vast barrens of the northlands; and woe to the traveller upon whom the icy wind and the blinding snow descended! woe came upon jim templeton and arrowhead, the heathen. in the awful struggle between man and nature that followed, the captive became the leader. the craft of the plains, the inherent instinct, the feeling which was more than eyesight became the only hope. one whole day to cover ten miles--an endless path of agony, in which jim went down again and again, but came up blinded by snow and drift, and cut as with lashes by the angry wind. at the end of the ten miles was a hudson's bay company's post and safety; and through ten hours had the two struggled towards it, going off at tangents, circling on their own tracks; but the indian, by an instinct as sure as the needle to the pole, getting the direction to the post again, in the moments of direst peril and uncertainty. to jim the world became a sea of maddening forces which buffeted him; a whirlpool of fire in which his brain was tortured, his mind was shrivelled up; a vast army rending itself, each man against the other. it was a purgatory of music, broken by discords; and then at last--how sweet it all was, after the eternity of misery--"church bells and voices low," and sally singing to him, nancy's voice calling! then, nothing but sleep--sleep, a sinking down millions of miles in an ether of drowsiness which thrilled him; and after--no more. none who has suffered up to the limit of what the human body and soul may bear can remember the history of those distracted moments when the struggle became one between the forces in nature and the forces in man, between agonised body and smothered mind, yet with the divine intelligence of the created being directing, even though subconsciously, the fight. how arrowhead found the post in the mad storm he could never have told. yet he found it, with jim unconscious on the sledge and with limbs frozen, all the dogs gone but two, the leathers over the indian's shoulders as he fell against the gate of the post with a shrill cry that roused the factor and his people within, together with sergeant sewell, who had been sent out from headquarters to await jim's arrival there. it was sewell's hand which first felt jim's heart and pulse, and found that there was still life left, even before it could be done by the doctor from headquarters, who had come to visit a sick man at the post. for hours they worked with snow upon the frozen limbs to bring back life and consciousness. consciousness came at last with half delirium, half understanding; as emerging from the passing sleep of anaesthetics, the eye sees things and dimly registers them, before the brain has set them in any relation to life or comprehension. but jim was roused at last, and the doctor presently held to his lips a glass of brandy. then from infinite distance jim's understanding returned; the mind emerged, but not wholly, from the chaos in which it was travelling. his eyes stood out in eagerness. "brandy! brandy!" he said hungrily. with an oath sewell snatched the glass from the doctor's hand, put it on the table, then stooped to jim's ear and said hoarsely: "remember--nancy. for god's sake, sir, don't drink." jim's head fell back, the fierce light went out of his eyes, the face became greyer and sharper. "sally--nancy--nancy," he whispered, and his fingers clutched vaguely at the quilt. "he must have brandy or he will die. the system is pumped out. he must be revived," said the doctor. he reached again for the glass of spirits. jim understood now. he was on the borderland between life and death; his feet were at the brink. "no--not--brandy, no!" he moaned. "sallysally, kiss me," he said faintly, from the middle world in which he was. "quick, the broth!" said sewell to the factor, who had been preparing it. "quick, while there's a chance." he stooped and called into jim's ear: "for the love of god, wake up, sir. they're coming--they're both coming--nancy's coming. they'll soon be here." what matter that he lied, a life was at stake. jim's eyes opened again. the doctor was standing with the brandy in his hand. half madly jim reached out. "i must live until they come," he cried; "the brandy--give it me! give it--ah, no, no, i must not!" he added, gasping, his lips trembling, his hands shaking. sewell held the broth to his lips. he drank a little, yet his face became greyer and greyer; a bluish tinge spread about his mouth. "have you nothing else, sir?" asked sewell in despair. the doctor put down the brandy, went quickly to his medicine-case, dropped into a glass some liquid from a phial, came over again, and poured a little between the lips; then a little more, as jim's eyes opened again; and at last every drop in the glass trickled down the sinewy throat. presently as they watched him the doctor said: "it will not do. he must have brandy. it has life-food in it." jim understood the words. he knew that if he drank the brandy the chances against his future were terrible. he had made his vow, and he must keep it. yet the thirst was on him; his enemy had him by the throat again, was dragging him down. though his body was so cold, his throat was on fire. but in the extremity of his strength his mind fought on-fought on, growing weaker every moment. he was having his last fight. they watched him with an aching anxiety, and there was anger in the doctor's face. he had no patience with these forces arrayed against him. at last the doctor whispered to sewell: "it's no use; he must have the brandy, or he can't live an hour." sewell weakened; the tears fell down his rough, hard cheeks. "it'll ruin him-it's ruin or death." "trust a little more in god, and in the man's strength. let us give him the chance. force it down his throat--he's not responsible," said the physician, to whom saving life was more than all else. suddenly there appeared at the bedside arrowhead, gaunt and weak, his face swollen, the skin of it broken by the whips of storm. "he is my brother," he said, and, stooping, laid both hands, which he had held before the fire for a long time, on jim's heart. "take his feet, his hands, his, legs, and his head in your hands," he said to them all. "life is in us; we will give him life." he knelt down and kept both hands on jim's heart, while the others, even the doctor, awed by his act, did as they were bidden. "shut your eyes. let your life go into him. think of him, and him alone. now!" said arrowhead in a strange voice. he murmured, and continued murmuring, his body drawing closer and closer to jim's body, while in the deep silence, broken only by the chanting of his low monotonous voice, the others pressed jim's hands and head and feet and legs--six men under the command of a heathen murderer. the minutes passed. the colour came back to jim's face, the skin of his hands filled up, they ceased twitching, his pulse got stronger, his eyes opened with a new light in them. "i'm living, anyhow," he said at last with a faint smile. "i'm hungry-broth, please." the fight was won, and arrowhead, the pagan murderer, drew over to the fire and crouched down beside it, his back to the bed, impassive and still. they brought him a bowl of broth and bread, which he drank slowly, and placed the empty bowl between his knees. he sat there through the night, though they tried to make him lie down. as the light came in at the windows, sewell touched him on the shoulder, and said: "he is sleeping now." "i hear my brother breathe," answered arrowhead. "he will live." all night he had listened, and had heard jim's breath as only a man who has lived in waste places can hear. "he will live. what i take with one hand i give with the other." he had taken the life of the factor; he had given jim his life. and when he was tried three months later for murder, some one else said this for him, and the hearts of all, judge and jury, were so moved they knew not what to do. but arrowhead was never sentenced, for, at the end of the first day's trial, he lay down to sleep and never waked again. he was found the next morning still and cold, and there was clasped in his hands a little doll which nancy had given him on one of her many visits to the prison during her father's long illness. they found a piece of paper in his belt with these words in the cree language: "with my hands on his heart at the post i gave him the life that was in me, saving but a little until now. arrowhead, the chief, goes to find life again by the well at the root of the tree. how!" v on the evening of the day that arrowhead made his journey to "the well at the root of the tree" a stranger knocked at the door of captain templeton's cottage; then, without awaiting admittance, entered. jim was sitting with nancy on his knee, her head against his shoulder, sally at his side, her face alight with some inner joy. before the knock came to the door jim had just said, "why do your eyes shine so, sally? what's in your mind?" she had been about to answer, to say to him what had been swelling her heart with pride, though she had not meant to tell him what he had forgotten--not till midnight. but the figure that entered the room, a big man with deep-set eyes, a man of power who had carried everything before him in the battle of life, answered for her. "you have won the stake, jim," he said in a hoarse voice. "you and she have won the stake, and i've brought it--brought it." before they could speak he placed in sally's hands bonds for five million dollars. "jim--jim, my son!" he burst out. then, suddenly, he sank into a chair and, putting his head in his hands, sobbed aloud. "my god, but i'm proud of you--speak to me, jim. you've broken me up." he was ashamed of his tears, but he could not wipe them away. "father, dear old man!" said jim, and put his hands on the broad shoulders. sally knelt down beside him, took both the great hands from the tearstained face, and laid them against her cheek. but presently she put nancy on his knees. "i don't like you to cry," the child said softly; "but to-day i cried too, 'cause my indian man is dead." the old man could not speak, but he put his cheek down to hers. after a minute, "oh, but she's worth ten times that!" he said as sally came close to him with the bundle he had thrust into her hands. "what is it?" said jim. "it's five million dollars--for nancy," she said. "five-million--what?" "the stake, jim," said sally. "if you did not drink for four years-never touched a drop--we were to have five million dollars." "you never told him, then--you never told him that?" asked the old man. "i wanted him to win without it," she said. "if he won, he would be the stronger; if he lost, it would not be so hard for him to bear." the old man drew her down and kissed her cheek. he chuckled, though the tears were still in his eyes. "you are a wonder--the tenth wonder of the world!" he declared. jim stood staring at the bundle in nancy's hands. "five millions--five million dollars!"--he kept saying to himself. "i said nancy's worth ten times that, jim." the old man caught his hand and pressed it. "but it was a damned near thing, i tell you," he added. "they tried to break me and my railways and my bank. i had to fight the combination, and there was one day when i hadn't that five million dollars there, nor five. jim, they tried to break the old man. and if they'd broken me, they'd have made me out a scoundrel to her--to this wife of yours who risked everything for both of us, for both of us, jim; for she'd given up the world to save you, and she was playing like a soul in hell for heaven. if they'd broken me, i'd never have lifted my head again. when things were at their worst i played to save that five millions,--her stake and mine,--i played for that. i fought for it as a man fights his way out of a burning house. and i won--i won. and it was by fighting for that five millions i saved fifty--fifty millions, son. they didn't break the old man, jim. they didn't break him--not much." "there are giants in the world still," said jim, his own eyes full. he knew now his father and himself, and he knew the meaning of all the bitter and misspent life of the old days. he and his father were on a level of understanding at last. "are you a giant?" asked nancy, peering up into her grandfather's eyes. the old man laughed, then sighed. "perhaps i was once, more or less, my dear--" saying to her what he meant for the other two. "perhaps i was; but i've finished. i'm through. i've had my last fight." he looked at his son. "i pass the game on to you, jim. you can do it. i knew you could do it as the reports came in this year. i've had a detective up here for four years. i had to do it. it was the devil in me. "you've got to carry on the game, jim; i'm done. i'll stay home and potter about. i want to go back to kentucky, and build up the old place, and take care of it a bit-your mother always loved it. i'd like to have it as it was when she was there long ago. but i'll be ready to help you when i'm wanted, understand." "you want me to run things--your colossal schemes? you think--?" "i don't think. i'm old enough to know." etext editor's bookmarks: i don't think. i'm old enough to know knew when to shut his eyes, and when to keep them open nothing so popular for the moment as the fall of a favourite that he will find the room empty where i am not the temerity and nonchalance of despair conjuror's house _beyond the butternut, beyond the maple, beyond the white pine and the red, beyond the oak, the cedar, and the beech, beyond even the white and yellow birches lies a land, and in that land the shadows fall crimson across the snow._ [illustration: paul gilmore, in "the call of the north"--the dramatic version of "conjuror's house."] conjuror's house _a romance of the free forest_ by stewart edward white author of the westerners, the blazed trail, etc. grosset & dunlap publishers: new york copyright, 1903, by stewart edward white copyright, 1902, by curtis publishing company published, march, 1903. r. conjuror's house _chapter one_ the girl stood on a bank above a river flowing north. at her back crouched a dozen clean whitewashed buildings. before her in interminable journey, day after day, league on league into remoteness, stretched the stern northern wilderness, untrodden save by the trappers, the indians, and the beasts. close about the little settlement crept the balsams and spruce, the birch and poplar, behind which lurked vast dreary muskegs, a chaos of bowlder-splits, the forest. the girl had known nothing different for many years. once a summer the sailing ship from england felt its frozen way through the hudson straits, down the hudson bay, to drop anchor in the mighty river of the moose. once a summer a six-fathom canoe manned by a dozen paddles struggled down the waters of the broken abítibi. once a year a little band of red-sashed _voyageurs_ forced their exhausted sledge-dogs across the ice from some unseen wilderness trail. that was all. before her eyes the seasons changed, all grim, but one by the very pathos of brevity sad. in the brief luxuriant summer came the indians to trade their pelts, came the keepers of the winter posts to rest, came the ship from england bringing the articles of use or ornament she had ordered a full year before. within a short time all were gone, into the wilderness, into the great unknown world. the snow fell; the river and the bay froze. strange men from the north glided silently to the factor's door, bearing the meat and pelts of the seal. bitter iron cold shackled the northland, the abode of desolation. armies of caribou drifted by, ghostly under the aurora, moose, lordly and scornful, stalked majestically along the shore; wolves howled invisible, or trotted dog-like in organized packs along the river banks. day and night the ice artillery thundered. night and day the fireplaces roared defiance to a frost they could not subdue, while the people of desolation crouched beneath the tyranny of winter. then the upheaval of spring with the ice-jams and terrors, the moose roaring by untamable, the torrents rising, rising foot by foot to the very dooryard of her father's house. strange spirits were abroad at night, howling, shrieking, cracking and groaning in voices of ice and flood. her indian nurse told her of them all--of maunabosho, the good; of nenaubosho the evil--in her lisping ojibway dialect that sounded like the softer voices of the forest. at last the sudden subsidence of the waters; the splendid eager blossoming of the land into new leaves, lush grasses, an abandon of sweetbrier and hepatica. the air blew soft, a thousand singing birds sprang from the soil, the wild goose cried in triumph. overhead shone the hot sun of the northern summer. from the wilderness came the _brigades_ bearing their pelts, the hardy traders of the winter posts, striking hot the imagination through the mysterious and lonely allurement of their callings. for a brief season, transient as the flash of a loon's wing on the shadow of a lake, the post was bright with the thronging of many people. the indians pitched their wigwams on the broad meadows below the bend; the half-breeds sauntered about, flashing bright teeth and wicked dark eyes at whom it might concern; the traders gazed stolidily over their little black pipes, and uttered brief sentences through their thick black beards. everywhere was gay sound--the fiddle, the laugh, the song; everywhere was gay color--the red sashes of the _voyageurs_, the beaded moccasins and leggings of the _mètis_, the capotes of the _brigade_, the variegated costumes of the crees and ojibways. like the wild roses around the edge of the muskegs, this brief flowering of the year passed. again the nights were long, again the frost crept down from the eternal snow, again the wolves howled across barren wastes. just now the girl stood ankle-deep in green grasses, a bath of sunlight falling about her, a tingle of salt wind humming up the river from the bay's offing. she was clad in gray wool, and wore no hat. her soft hair, the color of ripe wheat, blew about her temples, shadowing eyes of fathomless black. the wind had brought to the light and delicate brown of her complexion a trace of color to match her lips, whose scarlet did not fade after the ordinary and imperceptible manner into the tinge of her skin, but continued vivid to the very edge; her eyes were wide and unseeing. one hand rested idly on the breech of an ornamented bronze field-gun. mcdonald, the chief trader, passed from the house to the store where his bartering with the indians was daily carried on; the other scotchman in the post, galen albret, her father, and the head factor of all this region, paced back and forth across the veranda of the factory, caressing his white beard; up by the stockade, young achille picard tuned his whistle to the note of the curlew; across the meadow from the church wandered crane, the little church of england missionary, peering from short-sighted pale blue eyes; beyond the coulee, sarnier and his indians _chock-chock-chocked_ away at the seams of the long coast-trading bateau. the girl saw nothing, heard nothing. she was dreaming, she was trying to remember. in the lines of her slight figure, in its pose there by the old gun over the old, old river, was the grace of gentle blood, the pride of caste. of all this region her father was the absolute lord, feared, loved, obeyed by all its human creatures. when he went abroad, he travelled in a state almost mediæval in its magnificence; when he stopped at home, men came to him from the albany, the kenógami, the missináibe, the mattágami, the abítibi--from all the rivers of the north--to receive his commands. way was made for him, his lightest word was attended. in his house dwelt ceremony, and of his house she was the princess. unconsciously she had taken the gracious habit of command. she had come to value her smile, her word, to value herself. the lady of a realm greater than the countries of europe, she moved serene, pure, lofty amid dependants. and as the lady of this realm she did honor to her father's guests--sitting stately behind the beautiful silver service, below the portrait of the company's greatest explorer, sir george simpson, dispensing crude fare in gracious manner, listening silently to the conversation, finally withdrawing at the last with a sweeping courtesy to play soft, melancholy, and world-forgotten airs on the old piano, brought over years before by the _lady head_, while the guests made merry with the mellow port and ripe manila cigars which the company supplied its servants. then coffee, still with her natural old world charm of the _grande dame_. such guests were not many, nor came often. there was mctavish of rupert's house, a three days' journey to the northeast; rand of fort albany, a week's travel to the northwest; mault of fort george, ten days beyond either, all grizzled in the company's service. with them came their clerks, mostly english and scotch younger sons, with a vast respect for the company, and a vaster for their factor's daughter. once in two or three years appeared the inspectors from winnipeg, true lords of the north, with their six-fathom canoes, their luxurious furs, their red banners trailing like gonfalons in the water. then this post of conjuror's house feasted and danced, undertook gay excursions, discussed in public or private conclave weighty matters, grave and reverend advices, cautions, and commands. they went. desolation again crept in. the girl dreamed. she was trying to remember. far-off, half-forgotten visions of brave, courtly men, of gracious, beautiful women, peopled the clouds of her imaginings. she heard them again, as voices beneath the roar of rapids, like far-away bells tinkling faintly through a wind, pitying her, exclaiming over her; she saw them dim and changing, as wraiths of a fog, as shadow pictures in a mist beneath the moon, leaning to her with bright, shining eyes full of compassion for the little girl who was to go so far away into an unknown land; she felt them, as the touch of a breeze when the night is still, fondling her, clasping her, tossing her aloft in farewell. one she felt plainly--a gallant youth who held her up for all to see. one she saw clearly--a dewy-eyed, lovely woman who murmured loving, broken words. one she heard distinctly--a gentle voice that said, "god's love be with you, little one, for you have far to go, and many days to pass before you see quebec again." and the girl's eyes suddenly swam bright, for the northland was very dreary. she threw her palms out in a gesture of weariness. then her arms dropped, her eyes widened, her head bent forward in the attitude of listening. "achille!" she called, "achille! come here!" the young fellow approached respectfully. "mademoiselle?" he asked. "don't you hear?" she said. faint, between intermittent silences, came the singing of men's voices from the south. "_grace à dieu_!" cried achille. "eet is so. eet is dat _brigade_!" he ran shouting toward the factory. _chapter two_ men, women, dogs, children sprang into sight from nowhere, and ran pell-mell to the two cannon. galen albret, reappearing from the factory, began to issue orders. two men set about hoisting on the tall flag-staff the blood-red banner of the company. speculation, excited and earnest, arose among the men as to which of the branches of the moose this _brigade_ had hunted--the abítibi, the mattágami, or the missináibie. the half-breed women shaded their eyes. mrs. cockburn, the doctor's wife, and the only other white woman in the settlement, came and stood by virginia albret's side. wishkobun, the ojibway woman from the south country, and virginia's devoted familiar, took her half-jealous stand on the other. "it is the same every year. we always like to see them come," said mrs. cockburn, in her monotonous low voice of resignation. "yes," replied virginia, moving a little impatiently, for she anticipated eagerly the picturesque coming of these men of the silent places, and wished to savor the pleasure undistracted. "mi-di-mo-yay ka'-win-ni-shi-shin," said wishkobun, quietly. "ae," replied virginia, with a little laugh, patting the woman's brown hand. a shout arose. around the bend shot a canoe. at once every paddle in it was raised to a perpendicular salute, then all together dashed into the water with the full strength of the _voyageurs_ wielding them. the canoe fairly leaped through the cloud of spray. another rounded the bend, another double row of paddles flashed in the sunlight, another crew, broke into a tumult of rapid exertion as they raced the last quarter mile of the long journey. a third burst into view, a fourth, a fifth. the silent river was alive with motion, glittering with color. the canoes swept onward, like race-horses straining against the rider. now the spectators could make out plainly the boatmen. it could be seen that they had decked themselves out for the occasion. their heads were bound with bright-colored fillets, their necks with gay scarves. the paddles were adorned with gaudy woollen streamers. new leggings, of holiday pattern, were intermittently visible on the bowsmen and steersmen as they half rose to give added force to their efforts. at first the men sang their canoe songs, but as the swift rush of the birch-barks brought them almost to their journey's end, they burst into wild shrieks and whoops of delight. all at once they were close to hand. the steersman rose to throw his entire weight on the paddle. the canoe swung abruptly for the shore. those in it did not relax their exertions, but continued their vigorous strokes until within a few yards of apparent destruction. "holá! holá!" they cried, thrusting their paddles straight down into the water with a strong backward twist. the stout wood bent and cracked. the canoe stopped short and the _voyageurs_ leaped ashore to be swallowed up in the crowd that swarmed down upon them. the races were about equally divided, and each acted after its instincts--the indian greeting his people quietly, and stalking away to the privacy of his wigwam; the more volatile white catching his wife or his sweetheart or his child to his arms. a swarm of indian women and half-grown children set about unloading the canoes. virginia's eyes ran over the crews of the various craft. she recognized them all, of course, to the last indian packer, for in so small a community the personality and doings of even the humblest members are well known to everyone. long since she had identified the _brigade_. it was of the missináibie, the great river whose head-waters rise a scant hundred feet from those that flow as many miles south into lake superior. it drains a wild and rugged country whose forests cling to bowlder hills, whose streams issue from deep-riven gorges, where for many years the big gray wolves had gathered in unusual abundance. she knew by heart the winter posts, although she had never seen them. she could imagine the isolation of such a place, and the intense loneliness of the solitary man condemned to live through the dark northern winters, seeing no one but the rare indians who might come in to trade with him for their pelts. she could appreciate the wild joy of a return for a brief season to the company of fellow-men. when her glance fell upon the last of the canoes, it rested with a flash of surprise. the craft was still floating idly, its bow barely caught against the bank. the crew had deserted, but amidships, among the packages of pelts and duffel, sat a stranger. the canoe was that of the post at kettle portage. she saw the stranger to be a young man with a clean-cut face, a trim athletic figure dressed in the complete costume of the _voyageurs_, and thin brown and muscular hands. when the canoe touched the bank he had taken no part in the scramble to shore, and so had sat forgotten and unnoticed save by the girl, his figure erect with something of the indian's stoical indifference. then when, for a moment, he imagined himself free from observation, his expression abruptly changed. his hands clenched tense between his buckskin knees, his eyes glanced here and there restlessly, and an indefinable shadow of something which virginia felt herself obtuse in labelling desperation, and yet to which she discovered it impossible to fit a name, descended on his features, darkening them. twice he glanced away to the south. twice he ran his eye over the vociferating crowd on the narrow beach. absorbed in the silent drama of a man's unguarded expression, virginia leaned forward eagerly. in some vague manner it was borne in on her that once before she had experienced the same emotion, had come into contact with someone, something, that had affected her emotionally just as this man did now. but she could not place it. over and over again she forced her mind to the very point of recollection, but always it slipped back again from the verge of attainment. then a little movement, some thrust forward of the head, some nervous, rapid shifting of the hands or feet, some unconscious poise of the shoulders, brought the scene flashing before her--the white snow, the still forest, the little square pen-trap, the wolverine, desperate but cool, thrusting its blunt nose quickly here and there in baffled hope of an orifice of escape. somehow the man reminded her of the animal, the fierce little woods marauder, trapped and hopeless, but scorning to cower as would the gentler creatures of the forest. abruptly his expression changed again. his figure stiffened, the muscles of his face turned iron. virginia saw that someone on the beach had pointed toward him. his mask was on. the first burst of greeting was over. here and there one or another of the _brigade_ members jerked their heads in the stranger's direction, explaining low-voiced to their companions. soon all eyes turned curiously toward the canoe. a hum of low-voiced comment took the place of louder delight. the stranger, finding himself generally observed, rose slowly to his feet, picked his way with a certain exaggerated deliberation of movement over the duffel lying in the bottom of the canoe, until he reached the bow, where he paused, one foot lifted to the gunwale just above the emblem of the painted star. immediately a dead silence fell. groups shifted, drew apart, and together again, like the slow agglomeration of sawdust on the surface of water, until at last they formed in a semicircle of staring, whose centre was the bow of the canoe and the stranger from kettle portage. the men scowled, the women regarded him with a half-fearful curiosity. virginia albret shivered in the shock of this sudden electric polarity. the man seemed alone against a sullen, unexplained hostility. the desperation she had thought to read but a moment before had vanished utterly, leaving in its place a scornful indifference and perhaps more than a trace of recklessness. he was ripe for an outbreak. she did not in the least understand, but she knew it from the depths of her woman's instinct, and unconsciously her sympathies flowed out to this man, alone without a greeting where all others came to their own. for perhaps a full sixty seconds the new-comer stood uncertain what he should do, or perhaps waiting for some word or act to tip the balance of his decision. one after another those on shore felt the insolence of his stare, and shifted uneasily. then his deliberate scrutiny rose to the group by the cannon. virginia caught her breath sharply. in spite of herself she could not turn away. the stranger's eye crossed her own. she saw the hard look fade into pleased surprise. instantly his hat swept the gunwale of the canoe. he stepped magnificently ashore. the crisis was over. not a word had been spoken. _chapter three_ galen albret sat in his rough-hewn arm-chair at the head of the table, receiving the reports of his captains. the long, narrow room opened before him, heavy raftered, massive, white, with a cavernous fireplace at either end. above him frowned sir george's portrait, at his right hand and his left stretched the row of home-made heavy chairs, finished smooth and dull by two centuries of use. his arms were laid along the arms of his seat; his shaggy head was sunk forward until his beard swept the curve of his big chest; the heavy tufts of hair above his eyes were drawn steadily together in a frown of attention. one after another the men arose and spoke. he made no movement, gave no sign, his short, powerful form blotted against the lighter silhouette of his chair, only his eyes and the white of his beard gleaming out of the dusk. kern of old brunswick house, achard of new; ki-wa-nee, the indian of flying post--these and others told briefly of many things, each in his own language. to all galen albret listened in silence. finally louis placide from the post at kettle portage got to his feet. he too reported of the trade,--so many "beaver" of tobacco, of powder, of lead, of pork, of flour, of tea, given in exchange; so many mink, otter, beaver, ermine, marten, and fisher pelts taken in return. then he paused and went on at greater length in regard to the stranger, speaking evenly but with emphasis. when he had finished, galen albret struck a bell at his elbow. me-en-gan, the bowsman of the factor's canoe, entered, followed closely by the young man who had that afternoon arrived. he was dressed still in his costume of the _voyageur_--the loose blouse shirt, the buckskin leggings and moccasins, the long tasselled red sash. his head was as high and his glance as free, but now the steel blue of his eye had become steady and wary, and two faint lines had traced themselves between his brows. at his entrance a hush of expectation fell. galen albret did not stir, but the others hitched nearer the long, narrow table, and two or three leaned both elbows on it the better to catch what should ensue. me-en-gan stopped by the door, but the stranger walked steadily the length of the room until he faced the factor. then he paused and waited collectedly for the other to speak. this the factor did not at once begin to do, but sat impassive--apparently without thought--while the heavy breathing of the men in the room marked off the seconds of time. finally abruptly galen albret's cavernous voice boomed forth. something there was strangely mysterious, cryptic, in the virile tones issuing from a bulk so massive and inert. galen albret did not move, did not even raise the heavy-lidded, dull stare of his eyes to the young man who stood before him; hardly did his broad arched chest seem to rise and fall with the respiration of speech; and yet each separate word leaped forth alive, instinct with authority. "once at leftfoot lake, two indians caught you asleep," he pronounced. "they took your pelts and arms, and escorted you to sudbury. they were my indians. once on the upper abítibi you were stopped by a man named herbert, who warned you from the country, after relieving you of your entire outfit. he told you on parting what you might expect if you should repeat the attempt--severe measures, the severest. herbert was my man. now louis placide surprises you in a rapids near kettle portage and brings you here." during the slow delivering of these accurately spaced words, the attitude of the men about the long, narrow table gradually changed. their curiosity had been great before, but now their intellectual interest was awakened, for these were facts of which louis placide's statement had given no inkling. before them, for the dealing, was a problem of the sort whose solution had earned for galen albret a reputation in the north country. they glanced at one another to obtain the sympathy of attention, then back toward their chief in anxious expectation of his next words. the stranger, however, remained unmoved. a faint smile had sketched the outline of his lips when first the factor began to speak. this smile he maintained to the end. as the older man paused, he shrugged his shoulders. "all of that is quite true," he admitted. even the unimaginative men of the silent places started at these simple words, and vouchsafed to their speaker a more sympathetic attention. for the tones in which they were delivered possessed that deep, rich throat timbre which so often means power--personal magnetism--deep, from the chest, with vibrant throat tones suggesting a volume of sound which may in fact be only hinted by the loudness the man at the moment sees fit to employ. such a voice is a responsive instrument on which emotion and mood play wonderfully seductive strains. "all of that is quite true," he repeated after a second's pause; "but what has it to do with me? why am i stopped and sent out from the free forest? i am really curious to know your excuse." "this," replied galen albret, weightily, "is my domain. i tolerate no rivalry here." "your right?" demanded the young man, briefly. "i have made the trade, and i intend to keep it." "in other words, the strength of your good right arm," supplemented the stranger, with the faintest hint of a sneer. "that is neither here nor there," rejoined galen albret, "the point is that i intend to keep it. i've had you sent out, but you have been too stupid or too obstinate to take the hint. now i have to warn you in person. i shall send you out once more, but this time you must promise me not to meddle with the trade again." he paused for a response. the young man's smile merely became accentuated. "i have means of making my wishes felt," warned the factor. "quite so," replied the young man, deliberately, "_la longue traverse_." at this unexpected pronouncement of that dread name two of the men swore violently; the others thrust back their chairs and sat, their arms rigidly braced against the table's edge, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the speaker. only galen albret remained unmoved. "what do you mean by that?" he asked, calmly. "it amuses you to be ignorant," replied the stranger, with some contempt. "don't you think this farce is about played out? i do. if you think you're deceiving me any with this show of formality, you're mightily mistaken. don't you suppose i knew what i was about when i came into this country? don't you suppose i had weighed the risks and had made up my mind to take my medicine if i should be caught? your methods are not quite so secret as you imagine. i know perfectly well what happens to free traders in rupert's land." "you seem very certain of your information." "your men seem equally so," pointed out the stranger. galen albret, at the beginning of the young man's longer speech, had sunk almost immediately into his passive calm--the calm of great elemental bodies, the calm of a force so vast as to rest motionless by the very static power of its mass. when he spoke again, it was in the tentative manner of his earlier interrogatory, committing himself not at all, seeking to plumb his opponent's knowledge. "why, if you have realized the gravity of your situation have you persisted after having been twice warned?" he inquired. "because you're not the boss of creation," replied the young man, bluntly. galen albret merely raised his eyebrows. [illustration: the arrival of the free-trader. scene from the play.] "i've got as much business in this country as you have," continued the young man, his tone becoming more incisive. "you don't seem to realize that your charter of monopoly has expired. if the government was worth a damn it would see to you fellows. you have no more right to order me out of here than i would have to order you out. suppose some old husky up on whale river should send you word that you weren't to trap in the whale river district next winter. i'll bet you'd be there. you hudson bay men tried the same game out west. it didn't work. you ask your western men if they ever heard of ned trent." "your success does not seem to have followed you here," suggested the factor, ironically. the young man smiled. "this _longue traverse_," went on albret, "what is your idea there? i have heard something of it. what is your information?" ned trent laughed outright. "you don't imagine there is any secret about that!" he marvelled. "why, every child north of the line knows that. you will send me away without arms, and with but a handful of provisions. if the wilderness and starvation fail, your runners will not. i shall never reach the temiscamingues alive." "the same old legend," commented galen albret in apparent amusement, "i heard it when i first came to this country. you'll find a dozen such in every indian camp." "jo bagneau, morris proctor, john may, william jarvis," checked off the young man on his fingers. "personal enmity," replied the factor. he glanced up to meet the young man's steady, sceptical smile. "you do not believe me?" "oh, if it amuses you," conceded the stranger. "the thing is not even worth discussion." "remarkable sensation among our friends here for so idle a tale." galen albret considered. "you will remember that throughout you have forced this interview," he pointed out. "now i must ask your definite promise to get out of this country and to stay out." "no," replied ned trent. "then a means shall be found to make you!" threatened the factor, his anger blazing at last. "ah," said the stranger softly. galen albret raised his hand and let it fall. the bronzed and gaudily bedecked men filed out. _chapter four_ in the open air the men separated in quest of their various families or friends. the stranger lingered undecided for a moment on the top step of the veranda, and then wandered down the little street, if street it could be called where horses there were none. on the left ranged the square whitewashed houses with their dooryards, the old church, the workshop. to the right was a broad grass-plot, and then the moose, slipping by to the distant offing. over a little bridge the stranger idled, looking curiously about him. the great trading-house attracted his attention, with its narrow picket lane leading to the door; the storehouse surrounded by a protective log fence; the fort itself, a medley of heavy-timbered stockades and square block-houses. after a moment he resumed his strolling. everywhere he went the people looked at him, ceasing their varied occupations. no one spoke to him, no one hindered him. to all intents and purposes he was as free as the air. but all about the island flowed the barrier of the moose, and beyond frowned the wilderness--strong as iron bars to an unarmed man. brooding on his imprisonment the free trader forgot his surroundings. the post, the river, the forest, the distant bay faded from his sight, and he fell into deep reflection. there remained nothing of physical consciousness but a sense of the grateful spring warmth from the declining sun. at length he became vaguely aware of something else. he glanced up. right by him he saw a handsome french half-breed sprawled out in the sun against a building, looking him straight in the face and flashing up at him a friendly smile. "hullo," said achille picard, "you mus' been 'sleep. i call you two t'ree tam." the prisoner seemed to find something grateful in the greeting even from the enemy's camp. perhaps it merely happened upon the psychological moment for a response. "hullo," he returned, and seated himself by the man's side, lazily stretching himself in enjoyment of the reflected heat. "you is come off kettle portage, eh," said achille, "i t'ink so. you is come trade dose fur? eet is bad beez-ness, dis conjur' house. ole' man he no lak' dat you trade dose fur. he's very hard, dat ole man." "yes," replied the stranger, "he has got to be, i suppose. this is the country of _la longue traverse_." "i beleef you," responded achille, cheerfully; "w'at you call heem your nam'?" "ned trent." "me achille--achille picard. i capitaine of dose dogs on dat winter _brigade_." "it is a hard post. the winter travel is pretty tough." "i beleef you." "better to take _la longue traverse_ in summer, eh?" "_la longue traverse_--hees not mattaire w'en yo tak' heem." "right you are. have there been men sent out since you came here?" "_bâ oui_. wan, two, t'ree. i don' remember. i t'ink jo bagneau. nobodee he don' know, but dat ole man an' hees _coureurs du bois_. he ees wan ver' great man. nobodee is know w'at he will do." "i'm due to hit that trail myself, i suppose," said ned trent. "i have t'ink so," acknowledged achille, still with a tone of most engaging cheerfulness. "shall i be sent out at once, do you think?" "i don' know. sometam' dat ole man ver' queek. sometam' he ver' slow. one day injun mak' heem ver' mad; he let heem go, and shot dat injun right off. noder tam he get mad on one _voyageur_, but he don' keel heem queek; he bring heem here, mak' heem stay in dose warm room, feed heem dose plaintee grub. purty soon dose _voyageur_ is get fat, is go sof; he no good for dose trail. ole man he mak' heem go ver' far off, mos' to whale reever. eet is plaintee cole. dat _voyageur_, he freeze to hees inside. dey tell me he feex heem like dat." "achille, you haven't anything against me--do you want me to die?" the half-breed flashed his white teeth. "_bâ non_," he replied, carelessly. "for w'at i want dat you die? i t'ink you bus' up bad; _vous avez la mauvaise fortune_." "listen. i have nothing with me; but out at the front i am very rich. i will give you a hundred dollars, if you will help me to get away." "i can' do eet," smiled picard. "why not?" "ole man he fin' dat out. he is wan devil, dat ole man. i lak firs'-rate help you; i lak' dat hundred dollar. on ojibway countree dey make hees nam' _wagosh_--dat mean fox. he know everyt'ing." "i'll make it two hundred--three hundred--five hundred." "w'at you wan' me do?" hesitated achille picard at the last figure. "get me a rifle and some cartridges." the half-breed rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and inhaled a deep breath. "i can' do eet," he declared. "i can' do eet for t'ousand dollar--ten t'ousand. i don't t'ink you fin' anywan on dis settlement w'at can dare do eet. he is wan devil. he's count all de carabine on dis pos', an' w'en he is mees wan, he fin' out purty queek who is tak' heem." "steal one from someone else," suggested trent. "he fin' out jess sam'," objected the half-breed, obstinately. "you don' know heem. he mak' you geev yourself away, when he lak' do dat." the smile had left the man's face. this was evidently too serious a matter to be taken lightly. "well, come with me, then," urged ned trent, with some impatience. "a thousand dollars i'll give you. with that you can be rich somewhere else." but the man was becoming more and more uneasy, glancing furtively from left to right and back again, in an evident panic lest the conversation be overheard, although the nearest dwelling-house was a score of yards distant. "hush," he whispered. "you mustn't talk lak' dat. dose ole man fin' you out. you can' hide away from heem. ole tam long ago, pierre cadotte is stole feefteen skin of de otter--de sea-otter--and he is sol' dem on winnipeg. he is get 'bout t'ousand beaver--five hunder' dollar. den he is mak' dose longue voyage wes'--ver' far wes'--_on dit_ peace reever. he is mak' heem dose cabane, w'ere he is leev long tam wid wan man of mackenzie. he is call it hees nam' dick henderson. i is meet dick henderson on winnipeg las' year, w'en i mak' paddle on dem factor brigade, an' dose high commissionaire. he is tol' me wan night pret' late he wake up all de queeck he can w'en he is hear wan noise in dose cabane, an' he is see wan injun, lak' phantome 'gainst de moon to de door. dick henderson he is 'sleep, he don' know w'at he mus' do. does injun is step ver' sof' an' go on bunk of pierre cadotte. pierre cadotte is mak' de beeg cry. dick henderson say he no see dose injun no more, an' he fin' de door shut. _bâ_ pierre cadotte, she's go dead. he is mak' wan beeg hole in hees ches'." "some enemy, some robber frightened away because the henderson man woke up, probably," suggested ned trent. the half-breed laid his hand impressively on the other's arm and leaned forward until his bright black eyes were within a foot of the other's face. "w'en dose injun is stan' heem in de moonlight, dick henderson is see hees face. dick henderson is know all dose injun. he is tole me dat injun is not peace reever injun. dick henderson is say dose injun is ojibway injun--ojibway injun two t'ousand mile wes'--on peace reever! dat's curi's!" "i was tell you nodder story--" went on achille, after a moment. "never mind," interrupted the trader. "i believe you." "maybee," said achille cheerfully, "you stan' some show--not moche--eef he sen' you out pret' queeck. does small _perdrix_ is yonge, an' dose duck. maybee you is catch dem, maybee you is keel dem wit' bow an' arrow. dat's not beeg chance. you mus' geev dose _coureurs de bois_ de sleep w'en you arrive. _voilà_, i geev you my knife!" he glanced rapidly to right and left, then slipped a small object into the stranger's hand. "_bâ_, i t'ink does ole man is know dat. i t'ink he kip you here till tam w'en dose _perdrix_ and duck is all grow up beeg' nuff so he can fly." "i'm not watched," said the young man in eager tones; "i'll slip away to-night." "dat no good," objected picard. "w'at you do? s'pose you do dat, dose _coureurs_ keel you _toute suite_. dey is have good excuse, an' you is have nothing to mak' de fight. you sleep away, and dose ole man is sen' out plaintee injun. dey is fine you sure. _bâ_, eef he _sen'_ you out, den he sen' onlee two injun. maybee you fight dem; i don' know. _non, mon ami_, eef you is wan' get away w'en dose ole man he don' know eet, you mus' have dose carabine. den you is have wan leetle chance. _bâ_, eef you is not have heem dose carabine, you mus' need dose leetle grub he geev you, and not plaintee injun follow you, onlee two." "and i cannot get the rifle." "an' dose ole man is don' sen' you out till eet is too late for mak' de grub on de fores'. dat's w'at i t'ink. dat ees not fonny for you." ned trent's eyes were almost black with thought. suddenly he threw his head up. "i'll make him send me out now," he asserted confidently. "how you mak' eet him?" "i'll talk turkey to him till he's so mad he can't see straight. then maybe he'll send me out right away." "how you mak' eet him so mad?" inquired picard, with mild curiosity. "never you mind--i'll do it." "_bâ oui_," ruminated picard, "he is get mad pret' queeck. i t'ink p'raps dat plan he go all right. you was get heem mad plaintee easy. den maybee he is sen' you out _toute suite_--maybee he is shoot you." "i'll take the chances--my friend." "_bâ oui_," shrugged achille picard, "eet is wan chance." he commenced to roll another cigarette. _chapter five_ having sat buried in thought for a full five minutes after the traders of the winter posts had left him, galen albret thrust back his chair and walked into a room, long, low, and heavily raftered, strikingly unlike the council room. its floor was overlaid with dark rugs; a piano of ancient model filled one corner; pictures and books broke the wall; the lamps and the windows were shaded; a woman's work-basket and a tea-set occupied a large table. only a certain barbaric profusion of furs, the huge fireplace, and the rough rafters of the ceiling differentiated the place from the drawing-room of a well-to-do family anywhere. galen albret sank heavily into a chair and struck a bell. a tall, slightly stooped english servant, with correct side whiskers and incompetent, watery blue eyes, answered. to him said the factor: "i wish to see miss albret." a moment later virginia entered the room. "let us have some tea, o-mi-mi," requested her father. the girl moved gently about, preparing and lighting the lamp, measuring the tea, her fair head bowed gracefully over her task, her dark eyes pensive and but half following what she did. finally with a certain air of decision she seated herself on the arm of a chair. "father," said she. "yes." "a stranger came to-day with louis placide of kettle portage." "well?" "he was treated strangely by our people, and he treated them strangely in return. why is that?" "who can tell?" "what is his station? is he a common trader? he does not look it." "he is a man of intelligence and daring." "then why is he not our guest?" galen albret did not answer. after a moment's pause he asked again for his tea. the girl turned away impatiently. here was a puzzle, neither the _voyageurs_, nor wishkobun her nurse, nor her father would explain to her. the first had grinned stupidly; the second had drawn her shawl across her face, the third asked for tea! she handed her father the cup, hesitated, then ventured to inquire whether she was forbidden to greet the stranger should the occasion arise. "he is a gentleman," replied her father. she sipped her tea thoughtfully, her imagination stirring. again her recollection lingered over the clear bronze lines of the stranger's face. something vaguely familiar seemed to touch her consciousness with ghostly fingers. she closed her eyes and tried to clutch them. at once they were withdrawn. and then again, when her attention wandered, they stole back, plucking appealingly at the hem of her recollections. the room was heavy-curtained, deep embrasured, for the house, beneath its clap-boards, was of logs. although out of doors the clear spring sunshine still flooded the valley of the moose; within, the shadows had begun with velvet fingers to extinguish the brighter lights. virginia threw herself back on a chair in the corner. "virginia," said galen albret, suddenly. "yes, father." "you are no longer a child, but a woman. would you like to go to quebec?" she did not answer him at once, but pondered beneath close-knit brows. "do you wish me to go, father?" she asked at length. "you are eighteen. it is time you saw the world, time you learned the ways of other people. but the journey is hard. i may not see you again for some years. you go among strangers." he fell silent again. motionless he had been, except for the mumbling of his lips beneath his beard. "it shall be just as you wish," he added a moment later. at once a conflict arose in the girl's mind between her restless dreams and her affections. but beneath all the glitter of the question there was really nothing to take her out. here was her father, here were the things she loved; yonder was novelty--and loneliness. her existence at conjuror's house was perhaps a little complex, but it was familiar. she knew the people, and she took a daily and unwearying delight in the kindness and simplicity of their bearing toward herself. each detail of life came to her in the round of habit, wearing the garment of accustomed use. but of the world she knew nothing except what she had been able to body forth from her reading, and that had merely given her imagination something tangible with which to feed her self-distrust. "must i decide at once?" she asked. "if you go this year, it must be with the abítibi _brigade_. you have until then." "thank you, father," said the girl, sweetly. the shadows stole their surroundings one by one, until only the bright silver of the tea-service, and the glitter of polished wood, and the square of the open door remained. galen albret became an inert dark mass. virginia's gray was lost in that of the twilight. time passed. the clock ticked on. faintly sounds penetrated from the kitchen, and still more faintly from out of doors. then the rectangle of the doorway was darkened by a man peering uncertainly. the man wore his hat, from which slanted a slender heron's plume; his shoulders were square; his thighs slim and graceful. against the light, one caught the outline of the sash's tassel and the fringe of his leggings. "are you there, galen albret?" he challenged. the spell of twilight mystery broke. it seemed as if suddenly the air had become surcharged with the vitality of opposition. "what then?" countered the factor's heavy, deliberate tones. "true, i see you now," rejoined the visitor carelessly, as he flung himself across the arm of a chair and swung one foot. "i do not doubt you are convinced by this time of my intention." "my recollection does not tell me what messenger i sent to ask this interview." [illustration: "what you want doesn't concern me in the least." scene from the play.] "correct," laughed the young man a little hardly. "you _didn't_ ask it. i attended to that myself. what _you_ want doesn't concern me in the least. what do you suppose i care what, or what not, any of this crew wants? i'm master of my own ideas, anyway, thank god. if you don't like what i do, you can always stop me." in the tone of his voice was a distinct challenge. galen albret, it seemed, chose to pass it by. "true," he replied sombrely, after a barely perceptible pause to mark his tacit displeasure. "it is your hour. say on." "i should like to know the date at which i take _la longue traverse_". "you persist in that nonsense?" "call my departure whatever you want to--i have the name for it. when do i leave?" "i have not decided." "and in the meantime?" "do as you please." "ah, thanks for this generosity," cried the young man, in a tone of declamatory sarcasm so artificial as fairly to scent the elocutionary. "to do as i please--here--now there's a blessed privilege! i may walk around where i want to, talk to such as have a good word for me, punish those who have not! but do i err in concluding that the state of your game law is such that it would be useless to reclaim my rifle from the engaging placide?" "you have a fine instinct," approved the factor. "it is one of my valued possessions," rejoined the young man, insolently. he struck a match, and by its light selected a cigarette. "i do not myself use tobacco in this room," suggested the older speaker. "i am curious to learn the limits of your forbearance," replied the younger, proceeding to smoke. he threw back his head and regarded his opponent with an open challenge, daring him to become angry. the match went out. virginia, who had listened in growing anger and astonishment, unable longer to refrain from defending the dignity of her usually autocratic father, although he seemed little disposed to defend himself, now intervened from her dark corner on the divan. "is the journey then so long, sir," she asked composedly, "that it at once inspires such anticipations--and such bitterness?" in an instant the man was on his feet, hat in hand, and the cigarette had described a fiery curve into the empty hearth. "i beg your pardon, sincerely," he cried, "i did not know you were here!" "you might better apologize to my father," replied virginia. the young man stepped forward and, without asking permission, lighted one of the tall lamps. "the lady of the guns!" he marvelled softly to himself. he moved across the room, looking down on her inscrutably, while she looked up at him in composed expectation of an apology--and galen albret sat motionless, in the shadow of his great arm-chair. but after a moment her calm attention broke down. something there was about this man that stirred her emotions--whether of curiosity, pity, indignation, or a slight defensive fear she was not introspective enough to care to inquire. and yet the sensation was not altogether unpleasant, and, as at the guns that afternoon, a certain portion of her consciousness remained in sympathy with whatever it was of mysterious attraction he represented to her. in him she felt the dominant, as a wild creature of the woods instinctively senses the master and drops its eyes. resentment did not leave her, but over it spread a film of confusion that robbed it of its potency. in him, in his mood, in his words, in his manner, was something that called out in direct appeal the more primitive instincts hitherto dormant beneath her sense of maidenhood, so that even at this vexed moment of conscious opposition, her heart was ranging itself on his side. overpoweringly the feeling swept her that she was not acting in accordance with her sense of fitness. she knew she should strike, but was unable to give due force to the blow. in the confusion of such a discovery, her eyelids fluttered and fell. and he saw, and, understanding his power, dropped swiftly beside her on the broad divan. "you must pardon me, mademoiselle," he begun, his voice sinking to a depth of rich music singularly caressing. "to you i may seem to have small excuses, but when a man is vouchsafed a glimpse of heaven only to be cast out the next instant into hell, he is not always particular in the choice of words." all the time his eyes sought hers, which avoided the challenge, and the strong masculine charm of magnetism which he possessed in such vital abundance overwhelmed her unaccustomed consciousness. galen albret shifted uneasily, and shot a glance in their direction. the stranger, perceiving this, lowered his voice in register and tone, and went on with almost exaggerated earnestness. "surely you can forgive me, a desperate man, almost anything?" "i do not understand," said virginia, with a palpable effort. ned trent leaned forward until his eager face was almost at her shoulder. "perhaps not," he urged; "i cannot ask you to try. but suppose, mademoiselle, you were in my case. suppose your eyes--like mine--have rested on nothing but a howling wilderness for dear heaven knows how long; you come at last in sight of real houses, real grass, real dooryard gardens just ready to blossom in the spring, real food, real beds, real books, real men with whom to exchange the sensible word, and something more, mademoiselle--a woman such as one dreams of in the long forest nights under the stars. and you know that while others, the lucky ones, may stay to enjoy it all, you, the unfortunate, are condemned to leave it at any moment for _la longue traverse_. would not you, too, be bitter, mademoiselle? would not you too mock and sneer? think, mademoiselle, i have not even the little satisfaction of rousing men's anger. i can insult them as i will, but they turn aside in pity, saying one to another: 'let us pleasure him in this, poor fellow, for he is about to take _la longue traverse_.' that is why your father accepts calmly from me what he would not from another." virginia sat bolt upright on the divan, her hands clasped in her lap, her wonderful black eyes looking straight out before her, trying to avoid her companion's insistent gaze. his attention was fixed on her mobile and changing countenance, but he marked with evident satisfaction galen albret's growing uneasiness. this was evidenced only by a shifting of the feet, a tapping of the fingers, a turning of the shaggy head--in such a man slight tokens are significant. the silence deepened with the shadows drawing about the single lamp, while virginia attempted to maintain a breathing advantage above the flood of strange emotions which the personality of this man had swept down upon her. "it does not seem--" objected the girl in bewilderment, "i do not know--men are often out in this country for years at a time. long journeys are not unknown among us. we are used to undertaking them." "but not _la longue traverse_," insisted the young man, sombrely. "_la longue traverse_," she repeated in sweet perplexity. "sometimes called the journey of death," he explained. she turned to look him in the eyes, a vague expression of puzzled fear on her face. "she has never heard of it," said ned trent to himself, and aloud: "men who undertake it leave comfort behind. they embrace hunger and weariness, cold and disease. at the last they embrace death, and are glad of his coming." something in his tone compelled belief; something in his face told her that he was a man by whom the inevitable hardships of winter and summer travel, fearful as they are, would be lightly endured. she shuddered. "this dreadful thing is necessary?" she asked. "alas, yes." "i do not understand--" "in the north few of us understand," agreed the young man with a hint of bitterness seeping through his voice. "the mighty order, and so we obey. but that is beside the point. i have not told you these things to harrow you; i have tried to excuse myself for my actions. does it touch you a little? am i forgiven?" "i do not understand how such things can be," she objected in some confusion, "why such journeys must exist. my mind cannot comprehend your explanations." the stranger leaned forward abruptly, his eyes blazing with the magnetic personality of the man. "but your heart?" he breathed. it was the moment. "my heart--" she repeated, as though bewildered by the intensity of his eyes, "my heart--ah--yes!" immediately the blood rushed over her face and throat in a torrent. she snatched her eyes away, and cowered back in the corner, going red and white by turns, now angry, now frightened, now bewildered, until his gaze, half masterful, half pleading, again conquered hers. galen albret had ceased tapping his chair. in the dim light he sat, staring straight before him, massive, inert, grim. "i believe you--" she murmured hurriedly at last. "i pity you!" she rose. quick as light he barred her passage. "don't! don't!" she pleaded. "i must go--you have shaken me--i--i do not understand myself--" "i must see you again," he whispered eagerly. "to-night--by the guns." "no, no!" "to-night," he insisted. she raised her eyes to his, this time naked of defence, so that the man saw down through their depths into her very soul. "oh," she begged, quivering, "let me pass. don't you see--i'm going to cry!" _chapter six_ for a moment ned trent stared through the darkness into which virginia had disappeared. then he turned a troubled face to the task he had set himself, for the unexpectedly pathetic results of his fantastic attempt had shaken him. twice he half turned as though to follow her. then shaking his shoulders he bent his attention to the old man in the shadow of the chair. he was given no opportunity for further speech, however, for at the sound of the closing door galen albret's impassivity had fallen from him. he sprang to his feet. the whole aspect of the man suddenly became electric, terrible. his eyes blazed; his heavy brows drew spasmodically toward each other; his jaws worked, twisting his beard into strange contortions; his massive frame straightened formidably; and his voice rumbled from the arch of his deep chest in a torrent of passionate sound. "by god, young man!" he thundered, "you go too far! take heed! i will not stand this! do not you presume to make love to my daughter before my eyes!" and ned trent, just within the dusky circle of lamplight, where the bold, sneering lines of his face stood out in relief against the twilight of the room, threw back his head and laughed. it was a clear laugh, but low, and in it were all the devils of triumph, and of insolence. where the studied insult of words had failed, this single cachinnation succeeded. the trader saw his opponent's eyes narrow. for a moment he thought the factor was about to spring on him. then, with an effort that blackened his face with blood, galen albret controlled himself, and fell to striking the call-bell violently and repeatedly with the palm of his hand. after a moment matthews, the english servant, came running in. to him the factor was at first physically unable to utter a syllable. then finally he managed to ejaculate the name of his bowsman with such violence of gesture that the frightened servant comprehended by sheer force of terror and ran out again in search of me-en-gan. this supreme effort seemed to clear the way for speech. galen albret began to address his opponent hoarsely in quick, disjointed sentences, a gasp for breath between each. "you revived an old legend--_la longue traverse_--the myth. it shall be real--to--you--i will make it so. by god, you shall not defy me--" ned trent smiled. "you do not deceive me," he rejoined, coolly. "silence!" cried the factor. "silence!--you shall speak no more!--you have said enough--" me-en-gan glided into the room. galen albret at once addressed him in the ojibway language, gaining control of himself as he went on. "listen to me well," he commanded. "you shall make a count of all rifles in this place--at once. let no one furnish this man with food or arms. you know the story of _la longue traverse_. this man shall take it. so inform my people. i, the factor, decree it so. prepare all things at once--understand, _at once_!" ned trent waited to hear no more, but sauntered from the room whistling gayly a boatman's song. his point was gained. outside, the long northern twilight with its beautiful shadows of crimson was descending from the upper regions of the east. a light wind breathed up-river from the bay. the free trader drew his lungs full of the evening air. "just the same, i think she will come," said he to himself. "_la longue traverse_, even at once, is a pretty slim chance. but this second string to my bow is better. i believe i'll get the rifle--if she comes!" _chapter seven_ virginia ran quickly up the narrow stairs to her own room, where she threw herself on the bed and buried her face in the pillows. as she had said, she was very much shaken. and, too, she was afraid. she could not understand. heretofore she had moved among the men around her, pure, lofty, serene. now at one blow all this crumbled. the stranger had outraged her finer feelings. he had insulted her father in her very presence;--for this she was angry. he had insulted herself;--for this she was afraid. he had demanded that she meet him again; but this--at least in the manner he had suggested--should not happen. and yet she confessed to herself a delicious wonder as to what he would do next, and a vague desire to see him again in order to find out. that she could not successfully combat this feeling made her angry at herself. and so in mingled fear, pride, anger, and longing she remained until wishkobun, the indian woman, glided in to dress her for the dinner whose formality she and her father consistently maintained. she fell to talking the soft ojibway dialect, and in the conversation forgot some of her emotion and regained some of her calm. her surface thoughts, at least, were compelled for the moment to occupy themselves with other things. the indian woman had to tell her of the silver fox brought in by mu-hi-ken, an indian of her own tribe; of the retort achille picard had made when maclane had taunted him; of the forest fire that had declared itself far to the east, and of the theories to account for it where no campers had been. yet underneath the rambling chatter virginia was aware of something new in her consciousness, something delicious but as yet vague. in the gayest moment of her half-jesting, half-affectionate gossip with the indian woman, she felt its uplift catching her breath from beneath, so that for the tiniest instant she would pause as though in readiness for some message which nevertheless delayed. a fresh delight in the present moment held her, a fresh anticipation of the immediate future, though both delight and anticipation were based on something without her knowledge. that would come later. the sound of rapid footsteps echoed across the lower hall, a whistle ran into an air, sung gayly, with spirit: _"j'ai perdu ma maîtresse, sans l'avoir merité, pour un bouquet de roses que je lui refusai. li ya longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai!"_ she fell abruptly silent, and spoke no more until she descended to the council-room where the table was now spread for dinner. two silver candlesticks lit the place. the men were waiting for her when she entered, and at once took their seats in the worn, rude chairs. white linen and glittering silver adorned the service, galen albret occupied one end of the table, virginia the other. on either side were doctor and mrs. cockburn; mcdonald, the chief trader; richardson, the clerk, and crane, the missionary of the church of england. matthews served with rigid precision in the order of importance, first the factor, then virginia, then the doctor, his wife, mcdonald, the clerk, and crane in due order. on entering a room the same precedence would have held good. thus these people, six hundred miles as the crow flies from the nearest settlement, maintained their shadowy hold on civilization. the glass was fine, the silver massive, the linen dainty, matthews waited faultlessly: but overhead hung the rough timbers of the wilderness post, across the river faintly could be heard the howling of wolves. the fare was rice, curry, salt pork, potatoes, and beans; for at this season the game was poor, and the fish hardly yet running with regularity. throughout the meal virginia sat in a singular abstraction. no conscious thoughts took shape in her mind, but nevertheless she seemed to herself to be occupied in considering weighty matters. when directly addressed, she answered sweetly. much of the time she studied her father's face. she found it old. those lines were already evident which, when first noted, bring a stab of surprised pain to the breast of a child--the droop of the mouth, the wrinkling of the temples, the patient weariness of the eyes. virginia's own eyes filled with tears. the subjective passive state into which a newly born but not yet recognized love had cast her, inclined her to gentleness. she accepted facts as they came to her. for the moment she forgot the mere happenings of the day, and lived only in the resulting mood of them all. the new-comer inspired her no longer with anger nor sorrow, attraction nor fear. her active emotions in abeyance, she floated dreamily on the clouds of a new estate. this very aloofness of spirit disinclined her for the company of the others after the meal was finished. the factor closeted himself with richardson. the doctor, lighting a cheroot, took his way across to his infirmary. mcdonald, crane, and mrs. cockburn entered the drawing-room and seated themselves near the piano. virginia hesitated, then threw a shawl over her head and stepped out on the broad veranda. at once the vast, splendid beauty of the northern night broke over her soul. straight before her gleamed and flashed and ebbed and palpitated the aurora. one moment its long arms shot beyond the zenith; the next it had broken and rippled back like a brook of light to its arch over the great bear. never for an instant was it still. its restlessness stole away the quiet of the evening; but left it magnificent. in comparison with this coruscating dome of the infinite the earth had shrunken to a narrow black band of velvet, in which was nothing distinguishable until suddenly the sky-line broke in calm silhouettes of spruce and firs. and always the mighty river of the moose, gleaming, jewelled, barbaric in its reflections, slipped by to the sea. so rapid and bewildering was the motion of these two great powers--the river and the sky--that the imagination could not believe in silence. it was as though the earth were full of shoutings and of tumults. and yet in reality the night was as still as a tropical evening. the wolves and the sledge-dogs answered each other undisturbed; the beautiful songs of the white-throats stole from the forest as divinely instinct as ever with the spirit of peace. virginia leaned against the railing and looked upon it all. her heart was big with emotions, many of which she could not name; her eyes were full of tears. something had changed in her since yesterday, but she did not know what it was. the faint wise stars, the pale moon just sinking, the gentle south breeze could have told her, for they are old, old in the world's affairs. occasionally a flash more than ordinarily brilliant would glint one of the bronze guns beneath the flag-staff. then virginia's heart would glint too. she imagined the reflection startled her. she stretched her arms out to the night, embracing its glories, sighing in sympathy with its meaning, which she did not know. she felt the desire of restlessness; yet she could not bear to go. but no thought of the stranger touched her, for you see as yet she did not understand. then, quite naturally, she heard his voice in the darkness close to her knee. it seemed inevitable that he should be there; part of the restless, glorious night, part of her mood. she gave no start of surprise, but half closed her eyes and leaned her fair head against a pillar of the veranda. he sang in a sweet undertone an old _chanson_ of voyage. _"par derrièr' chez mon père, vole, mon coeur, vole! par derrièr' chez mon père li-ya-t-un pommier doux."_ "ah lady, lady mine," broke in the voice softly, "the night too is sweet, soft as thine eyes. will you not greet me?" the girl made no sign. after a moment the song went on. _"trois filles d'un prince, vole, mon coeur, vole! trois filles d'un prince sont endormies dessous."_ "will not the princess leave her sisters of dreams?" whispered the voice, fantastically. "will she not come?" virginia shivered, and half-opened her eyes, but did not stir. it seemed that the darkness sighed, then became musical again. _"la plus jeun' se réveille, vole, mon coeur, vole! la plus jeun' se réveille --ma soeur, voilà le jour!"_ the song broke this time without a word of pleading. the girl opened her eyes wide and stared breathlessly straight before her at the singer. _"--non, ce n'est qu'une étoile, vole, mon coeur, vole! non, ce n'est qu'une étoile qu'éclaire nos amours!"_ the last word rolled out through its passionate throat tones and died into silence. "come!" repeated the man again, this time almost in the accents of command. she turned slowly and went to him, her eyes childlike and frightened, her lips wide, her face pale. when she stood face to face with him she swayed and almost fell. "what do you want with me?" she faltered, with a little sob. the man looked at her keenly, laughed, and exclaimed in an every-day, matter-of-fact voice: "why, i really believe my song frightened you. it is only a boating song. come, let us go and sit on the gun-carriages and talk." "oh!" she gasped, a trifle hysterically. "don't do that again! please don't. i do not understand it! you must not!" he laughed again, but with a note of tenderness in his voice, and took her hand to lead her away, humming in an undertone the last couplet of his song: _"non, ce n'est qu'une étoile, qu'éclaire nos amours!"_ _chapter eight_ virginia went with this man passively--to an appointment which, but an hour ago, she had promised herself she would not keep. her inmost soul was stirred, just as before. then it had been few words, now it was a little common song. but the strange power of the man held her close, so she realized that for the moment at least she would do as he desired. in the amazement and consternation of this thought she found time to offer up a little prayer: "dear god, make him kind to me." [illustration: the half-breed seeks to avenge her father. scene from the play.] they leaned against the old bronze guns, facing the river. he pulled her shawl about her, masterfully yet with gentleness, and then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, he drew her to him until she rested against his shoulder. and she remained there, trembling, in suspense, glancing at him quickly, in birdlike, pleading glances, as though praying him to be kind. he took no notice after that, so the act seemed less like a caress than a matter of course. he began to talk, half-humorously, and little by little, as he went on, she forgot her fears, even her feeling of strangeness, and fell completely under the spell of his power. "my name is ned trent," he told her, "and i am from quebec. i am a woods runner. i have journeyed far. i have been to the uttermost ends of the north, even up beyond the hills of silence." and then, in his gay, half-mocking, yet musical voice he touched lightly on vast and distant things. he talked of the great saskatchewan, of peace river, and the delta of the mackenzie, of the winter journeys beyond great bear lake into the land of the little sticks, and the half-mythical lake of yamba tooh. he spoke of life with the dog ribs and yellow knives, where the snow falls in midsummer. before her eyes slowly spread, like a panorama, the whole extent of the great north, with its fierce, hardy men, its dreadful journeys by canoe and sledge, its frozen barrens, its mighty forests, its solemn charm. all at once this post of conjuror's house, a month in the wilderness as it was, seemed very small and tame and civilized for the simple reason that death did not always compass it about. "it was very cold then," said ned trent, "and very hard. _le grand frête_[a] of winter had come. at night we had no other shelter than our blankets, and we could not keep a fire because the spruce burned too fast and threw too many coals. for a long time we shivered, curled up on our snow-shoes; then fell heavily asleep, so that even the dogs fighting over us did not awaken us. two or three times in the night we boiled tea. we had to thaw our moccasins each morning by thrusting them inside our shirts. even the indians were shivering and saying, 'ed-sa, yazzi ed-sa'--'it is cold, very cold.' and when we came to rae it was not much better. a roaring fire in the fireplace could not prevent the ink from freezing on the pen. this went on for five months." [footnote a: _froid_--cold.] thus he spoke, as one who says common things. he said little of himself, but as he went on in short, curt sentences the picture grew more distinct, and to virginia the man became more and more prominent in it. she saw the dying and exhausted dogs, the frost-rimed, weary men; she heard the quick _crunch, crunch, crunch_ of the snow-shoes hurrying ahead to break the trail; she felt the cruel torture of the _mal de raquette_, the shrivelling bite of the frost, the pain of snow blindness, the hunger that yet could not stomach the frozen fish nor the hairy, black caribou meat. one thing she could not conceive--the indomitable spirit of the men. she glanced timidly up at her companion's face. "the company is a cruel master," she sighed at last, standing upright, then leaning against the carriage of the gun. he let her go without protest, almost without thought, it seemed. "but not mine," said he. she exclaimed, in astonishment, "are you not of the company?" "i am no man's man but my own," he answered, simply. "then why do you stay in this dreadful north?" she asked. "because i love it. it is my life. i want to go where no man has set foot before me; i want to stand alone under the sky; i want to show myself that nothing is too big for me--no difficulty, no hardship--nothing!" "why did you come here, then? here at least are forests so that you can keep warm. this is not so dreadful as the coppermine, and the country of the yellow knives. did you come here to try _la longue traverse_ of which you spoke to-day?" he fell suddenly sombre, biting in reflection at his lip. "no--yes--why not?" he said, at length. "i know you will come out of it safely," said she; "i feel it. you are brave and used to travel. won't you tell me about it?" he did not reply. after a moment she looked up in surprise. his brows were knit in reflection. he turned to her again, his eyes glowing into hers. once more the fascination of the man grew big, overwhelmed her. she felt her heart flutter, her consciousness swim, her old terror returning. "listen," said he. "i may come to you to-morrow and ask you to choose between your divine pity and what you might think to be your duty. then i will tell you all there is to know of _la longue traverse_. now it is a secret of the company. you are a factor's daughter; you know what that means." he dropped his head. "ah, i am tired--tired with it all!" he cried, in a voice strangely unhappy. "but yesterday i played the game with all my old spirit; to-day the zest is gone! i no longer care." he felt the pressure of her hand. "are you just a little sorry for me?" he asked. "sorry for a weakness you do not understand? you must think me a fool." "i know you are unhappy," replied virginia, gently. "i am truly sorry for that." "are you? are you, indeed?" he cried. "unhappiness is worth such pity as yours." he brooded for a moment, then threw his hands out with what might have been a gesture of desperate indifference. suddenly his mood changed in the whimsical, bewildering fashion of the man. "ah, a star shoots!" he exclaimed, gayly. "that means a kiss!" still laughing, he attempted to draw her to him. angry, mortified, outraged, she fought herself free and leaped to her feet. "oh!" she cried, in insulted anger. "oh!" she cried, in a red shame. "_oh!_" she cried, in sorrow. her calm broke. she burst into the violent sobbing of a child, and turned and ran hurriedly to the factory. ned trent stared after her a minute from beneath scowling brows. he stamped his moccasined foot impatiently. "like a rat in a trap!" he jeered at himself. "like a rat in a trap, ned trent! the fates are drawing around you close. you need just one little thing, and you cannot get it. bribery is useless! force is useless! craft is useless! this afternoon i thought i saw another way. what i could get no other way i might get from this little girl. she is only a child. i believe i could touch her pity--ah, ned trent, ned trent, can you ever forget her frightened, white face begging you to be kind?" he paced back and forth between the two bronze guns with long, straight strides, like a panther in a cage. "her aid is mine for the asking--but she makes it impossible to ask! i could not do it. better try _la longue traverse_ than take advantage of her pity--she'd surely get into trouble. what wonderful eyes she has. she thinks i am a brute--how she sobbed, as though her little heart had broken. well, it was the only way to destroy her interest in me. i had to do it. now she will despise me and forget me. it is better that she should think me a brute than that i should be always haunted by those pleading eyes." the door of the distant church house opened and closed. he smiled bitterly. "to be sure, i haven't tried that," he acknowledged. "their teachings are singularly apropos to my case--mercy, justice, humanity--yes, and love of man. i'll try it. i'll call for help on the love of man, since i cannot on the love of woman. the love of woman--ah--yes." he set his feet reflectively toward the chapel. _chapter nine_ after a moment he pushed open the door without ceremony, and entered. he bent his brows, studying the reverend archibald crane, while the latter, looking up startled, turned pink. he was a pink little man, anyway, the reverend archibald crane, and why, in the inscrutability of its wisdom, the church had sent him out to influence strong, grim men, the church in its inscrutable wisdom only knows. he wore at the moment a cambric english boating-hat to protect his bald head from the draught, a full clerical costume as far as the trousers, which were of lavender, and a pair of beaded moccasins faced with red. his weak little face was pink, and two tufts of side-whiskers were nearly so. a heavy gold-headed cane stood at his hand. when he heard the door open he exclaimed, before raising his head, "my, these first flies of the season do bother me so!" and then looked startled. "good-evening," greeted ned trent, stopping squarely in the centre of the room. the clergyman spread his arms along the desk's edge in embarrassment. "good-evening," he returned, reluctantly. "is there anything i can do for you?" the visitor puzzled him, but was dressed as a _voyageur_. the reverend archibald immediately resolved to treat him as such. "i wish to introduce myself as ned trent," went on the free trader with composure, "and i have broken in on your privacy this evening only because i need your ministrations cruelly." "i am rejoiced that in your difficulties you turn to the consolations of the church," replied the other in the cordial tones of the man who is always ready. "pray be seated. he whose soul thirsteth need offer no apology to the keeper of the spiritual fountains." "quite so," replied the stranger dryly, seating himself as suggested, "only in this case my wants are temporal rather than spiritual. they, however, seem to me fully within the province of the church." "the church attempts within limits to aid those who are materially in want," assured crane, with official dignity. "our resources are small, but to the truly deserving we are always ready to give in the spirit of true giving." "i am rejoiced to hear it," returned the young man, grimly; "you will then have no difficulty in getting me so small a matter as a rifle and about forty or fifty rounds of ammunition." a pause of astonishment ensued. "why, really," ejaculated crane, "i fail to see how that falls within my jurisdiction in the slightest. you should see our trader, mr. mcdonald, in regard to all such things. your request addressed to me becomes extraordinary." "not so much so when you know who i am. i told you my name is ned trent, but i neglected to inform you further that i am a captured free trader, condemned to _la longue traverse_, and that i have in vain tried to procure elsewhere the means of escape." then the clergyman understood. the full significance of the intruder's presence flashed over his little pink face in a trouble of uneasiness. the probable consequences of such a bit of charity as his visitor proposed almost turned him sick with excitement. "you expect to have them of me!" he cried, getting his voice at last. "certainly," assured his interlocutor, crossing his legs comfortably. "don't you see the logic of events forces me to think so? what other course is open to you? i am in this country entirely within my legal rights as a citizen of the canadian commonwealth. unjustly, i am seized by a stronger power and condemned unjustly to death. surely you admit the injustice?" "well, of course you know--the customs of the country--it is hardly an abstract question--" stammered crane, still without grasp on the logic of his argument. "but as an abstract question the injustice is plain," resumed the free trader, imperturbably. "and against plain injustice it strikes me there is but one course open to an acknowledged institution of abstract--and concrete--morality. the church must set itself against immorality, and you, as the church's representative, must get me a rifle." "you forget one thing," rejoined crane. "what is that?" "such an aid would be a direct act of rebellion against authority on my part, which would be severely punished. of course," he asserted, with conscious righteousness, "i should not consider that for a moment as far as my own personal safety is concerned. but my cause would suffer. you forget, sir, that we are doing here a great and good work. we have in our weekly congregational singing over forty regular attendants from the aborigines; next year i hope to build a church at whale river, thus reaching the benighted inhabitants of that distant region. all of this is a vital matter in the service of our lord and saviour jesus christ. you suggest that i endanger all this in order to right a single instance of injustice. of course we are told to love one another, but--" he paused. "you have to compromise," finished the stranger for him. "exactly," said the reverend crane. "thank you; it is exactly that. in order to accomplish what little good the lord vouchsafes to our poor efforts, we are obliged to overlook many things. otherwise we should not be allowed to stay here at all." "that is most interesting," agreed ned trent, with a rather biting calm. "but is it not a little calculating? my slight familiarity with religious history and literature has always led me to believe that you are taught to embrace the right at any cost whatsoever--that, if you give yourself unreservedly to justice, the lord will sustain you through all trials. i think at a pinch i could even quote a text to that effect." "my dear fellow," objected the reverend archibald in gentle protest, "you evidently do not understand the situation at all. i feel i should be most untrue to my trust if i were to endanger in any way the life-long labor of my predecessor. you must be able to see that for yourself. it would destroy utterly my usefulness here. they'd send me away. i couldn't go on with the work. i have to think what is for the best." "there is some justice in what you say," admitted the stranger, "if you persist in looking on this thing as a business proposition. but it seems to my confessedly untrained mind that you missed the point. 'trust in the lord,' saith the prophet. in fact, certain rivals in your own field hold the doctrine you expound, and you consider them wrong. 'to do evil that good may come' i seem to recognize as a tenet of the church of the jesuits." "i protest. i really do protest," objected the clergyman, scandalized. "all right," agreed ned trent, with good-natured contempt. "that is not the point. do you refuse?" "can't you see?" begged the other. "i'm sure you are reasonable enough to take the case on its broader side." "you refuse?" insisted ned trent. "it is not always easy to walk straightly before the lord, and my way is not always clear before me, but--" "you refuse!" cried ned trent, rising impatiently. the reverend archibald crane looked at his catechiser with a trace of alarm. "i'm sorry; i'm afraid i must," he apologized. the stranger advanced until he touched the desk on the other side of which the reverend archibald was sitting, where he stood for some moments looking down on his opponent with an almost amused expression of contempt. "you are an interesting little beast," he drawled, "and i've seen a lot of your kind in my time. here you preach every sunday, to whomever will listen to you, certain cut-and-dried doctrines you don't believe practically in the least. here for the first time you have had a chance to apply them literally, and you hide behind a lot of words. and while you're about it you may as well hear what i have to say about your kind. i've had a pretty wide experience in the north, and i know what i'm talking about. your work here among the indians is rot, and every sensible man knows it. you coop them up in your log-built houses, you force on them clothes to which they are unaccustomed until they die of consumption. under your little tin-steepled imitation of civilization, for which they are not fitted, they learn to beg, to steal, to lie. i have travelled far, but i have yet to discover what your kind are allowed on earth for. you are narrow-minded, bigoted, intolerant, and without a scrap of real humanity to ornament your mock religion. when you find you can't meddle with other people's affairs enough at home you get sent where you can get right in the business--and earn salvation for doing it. i don't know just why i should say this to you, but it sort of does me good to tell it. once i heard one of your kind tell a sorrowing mother that her little child had gone to hell because it had died before he--the smug hypocrite--had sprinkled its little body with a handful of water. there's humanity for you! it may interest you to know that i thrashed that man then and there. you are all alike; i know the breed. when there is found a real man among you--and there are such--he is so different in everything, including his religion, as to be really of another race. i came here without the slightest expectation of getting what i asked for. as i said before, i know your breed, and i know just how well your two-thousand-year-old doctrines apply to practical cases. there is another way, but i hated to use it. you'd take it quick enough, i dare say. here is where i should receive aid. i may have to get it where i should not. you a man of god! why, you poor little insect, i can't even get angry at you!" he stood for a moment looking at the confused and troubled clergyman. then he went out. _chapter ten_ almost immediately the door opened again. "you, miss albret!" cried crane. "what does this mean?" demanded virginia, imperiously. "who is that man? in what danger does he stand? what does he want a rifle for? i insist on knowing." she stood straight and tall in the low room, her eyes flashing, her head thrown back in the assured power of command. the reverend crane tried to temporize, hesitating over his words. she cut him short. "that is nonsense. everybody seems to know but myself. i am no child. i came to consult you--my spiritual adviser--in regard to this very case. accidentally i overheard enough to justify me in knowing more." the clergyman murmured something about the company's secrets. again she cut him short. "company's secrets! since when has the company confided in andrew laviolette, in wishkobun, in _you_!" "possibly you would better ask your father," said crane, with some return of dignity. "it does not suit me to do so," replied she. "i insist that you answer my questions. who is this man?" "ned trent, he says." "i will not be put off in this way. _who_ is he? _what_ is he?" "he is a free trader," replied the reverend crane with the air of a man who throws down a bomb and is afraid of the consequences. to his astonishment the bomb did not explode. "what is that?" she asked, simply. the man's jaw dropped and his eyes opened in astonishment. here was a density of ignorance in regard to the ordinary affairs of the post which could by no stretch of the imagination be ascribed to chance. if virginia albret did not know the meaning of the term, and all the tragic consequences it entailed, there could be but one conclusion: galen albret had not intended that she should know. she had purposely been left in ignorance, and a politic man would hesitate long before daring to enlighten her. the reverend crane, in sheer terror, became sullen. "a free trader is a man who trades in opposition to the company," said he, cautiously. "what great danger is he in?" the girl persisted with her catechism. "none that i am aware of," replied crane, suavely. "he is a very ill-balanced and excitable young man." virginia's quick instincts recognized again the same barrier which, with the people, with wishkobun, with her father, had shut her so effectively from the truth. her power of femininity and position had to give way before the man's fear for himself and of galen albret's unexpressed wish. she asked a few more questions, received a few more evasive replies, and left the little clergyman to recover as best he might from a very trying evening. out in the night the girl hesitated in two minds as to what to do next. she was excited, and resolved to finish the affair, but she could not bring her courage to the point of questioning her father. that the stranger was in antagonism to the company, that he believed himself to be in danger on that account, that he wanted succor, she saw clearly enough. but the whole affair was vague, disquieting. she wanted to see it plainly, know its reasons. and beneath her excitement she recognized, with a catch of the breath, that she was afraid for him. she had not time now to ask herself what it might mean; she only realized the presence of the fact. she turned instinctively in the direction of doctor cockburn's house. mrs. cockburn was a plain little middle-aged woman with parted gray hair and sweet, faded eyes. in the life of the place she was a nonentity, and her tastes were homely and commonplace, but virginia liked her. she proved to be at home, the doctor still at his dispensary, which was well. virginia entered a small log room, passed through it immediately to a larger papered room, and sat down in a musty red arm-chair. the building was one of the old régime, which meant that its floor was of wide and rather uneven painted boards, its ceiling low, its windows small, and its general lines of an irregular and sagging rule-of-thumb tendency. the white wall-paper evidently concealed squared logs. the present inhabitants, being possessed at once of rather homely tastes and limited facilities, had over-furnished the place with an infinitude of little things--little rugs, little tables, little knit doilies, little racks of photographs, little china ornaments, little spidery what-nots, and shelves for books. virginia seated herself, and went directly to the topic. "mrs. cockburn," she said, "you have always been very good to me, always, ever since i came here as a little girl. i have not always appreciated it, i am afraid, but i am in great trouble, and i want your help." "what is it, dearie," asked the older woman, softly. "of course i will do anything i can." "i want you to tell me what all this mystery is--about the man who to-day arrived from kettle portage, i mean. i have asked everybody: i have tried by all means in my power to get somebody somewhere to tell me. it is maddening--and i have a special reason for wanting to know." the older woman was already gazing at her through troubled eyes. "it is a shame and a mistake to keep you so in ignorance!" she broke out, "and i have said so always. there are many things you have the right to know, although some of them would make you very unhappy--as they do all of us poor women who have to live in this land of dread. but in this i cannot, dearie." virginia felt again the impalpable shadow of truth escaping her. baffled, confused, she began to lose her self-control. a dozen times to-day she had reached after this thing, and always her fingers had closed on empty air. she felt that she could not stand the suspense of bewilderment a single instant longer. the tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks unheeded. "oh, mrs. cockburn!" she cried. "please! you do not know how dreadful this thing has come to be to me just because it is made so mysterious. why has it been kept from me alone? it must have something to do with me, and i can't stand this mystery, this double-dealing, another minute. if you won't tell me, nobody will, and i shall go on imagining--oh, please have pity on me! i feel the shadow of a tragedy. it comes out in everything, in everybody to whom i turn. i see it in wishkobun's avoidance of me, in my father's silence, in mr. crane's confusion, in your reluctance--yes, in the very reckless insolence of mr. trent himself!"--her voice broke slightly. "if you will not tell me, i shall go direct to my father," she ended, with more firmness. mrs. cockburn examined the girl's flushed face through kindly but shrewd and experienced eyes. then, with a caressing little murmur of pity, she arose and seated herself on the arm of the red chair, taking the girl's hand in hers. "i believe you mean it," she said, "and i am going to tell you myself. there is much sorrow in it for you; but if you go to your father it will only make it worse. i am doing what i should not. it is shameful that such things happen in this nineteenth century, but happen they do. the long and short of it is that the factors of this post tolerate no competition in the country, and when a man enters it for the purpose of trading with the indians, he is stopped and sent out." "there is nothing very bad about that," said virginia, relieved. "no, my dear, not in that. but they say his arms and supplies are taken from him, and he is given a bare handful of provisions. he has to make a quick journey, and to starve at that. once when i was visiting out at the front, not many years ago, i saw one of those men--they called him jo bagneau--and his condition was pitiable--pitiable!" "but hardships can be endured. a man can escape." "yes," almost whispered mrs. cockburn, looking about her apprehensively, "but the story goes that there are some cases--when the man is an old offender, or especially determined, or so prominent as to be able to interest the law--no one breathes of these cases here--but--_he never gets out_!" "what do you mean?" cried virginia, harshly. "one dares not mean such things; but they are so. the hardships of the wilderness are many, the dangers terrible--what more natural than that a man should die of them in the forest? it is no one's fault." "what do you mean?" repeated virginia; "for god's sake speak plainly!" "i dare not speak plainer than i know; and no one ever really _knows_ anything about it--excepting the indian who fires the shot, or who watches the man until he dies of starvation," whispered mrs. cockburn. "but--but!" cried the girl, grasping her companion's arm. "my father! does _he_ give such orders? _he?_" "no orders are given. the thing is understood. certain runners, whose turn it is, shadow the free trader. your father is not responsible; no one is responsible. it is the policy." "and this man--" "it has gone about that he is to take _la longue traverse_. he knows it himself." "it is barbaric, horrible; it is murder." "my dear, it is all that; but this is the country of dread. you have known the soft, bright side always--the picturesque men, the laugh, the song. if you had seen as much of the harshness of wilderness life as a doctor's wife must you would know that when the storms of their great passions rage it is well to sit quiet at your prayers." the girl's eyes were wide-fixed, staring at this first reality of life. a thousand new thoughts jostled for recognition. suddenly her world had been swept from beneath her. the ancient patriarchal, kindly rule had passed away, and in its place she was forced to see a grim iron bond of death laid over her domain. and her father--no longer the grave, kindly old man--had become the ruthless tyrant. all these bright, laughing _voyageurs_, playmates of her childhood, were in reality executioners of a savage blood-law. she could not adjust herself to it. she got to her feet with an effort. "thank you, mrs. cockburn," she said, in a low voice. "i--i do not quite understand. but i must go now. i must--i must see that my father's room is ready for him," she finished, with the proud defensive instinct of the woman who has been deeply touched. "you know i always do that myself." "good-night, dearie," replied the older woman, understanding well the girl's desire to shelter behind the commonplace. she leaned forward and kissed her. "god keep and guide you. i hope i have done right." "yes," cried virginia, with unexpected fire. "yes, you did just right! i ought to have been told long ago! they've kept me a perfect child to whom everything has been bright and care-free and simple. i--i feel that until this moment i have lacked my real womanhood!" she bowed her head and passed through the log room into the outer air. her father, _her_ father, had willed this man's death, and so he was to die! that explained many things--the young fellow's insolence, his care-free recklessness, his passionate denunciation of the reverend crane and the reverend crane's religion. he wanted one little thing--the gift of a rifle wherewith to assure his subsistence should he escape into the forest--and of all those at conjuror's house to whom he might turn for help, some were too hard to give it to him, and some too afraid! he should have it! she, the daughter of her father, would see to it that in this one instance her father's sin should fail! suddenly, in the white heat of her emotion, she realized why these matters stirred her so profoundly, and she stopped short and gasped with the shock of it. it did not matter that she thwarted her father's will; it would not matter if she should be discovered and punished as only these harsh characters could punish. for the brave bearing, the brave jest, the jaunty facing of death, the tender, low voice, the gay song, the aurora-lit moment of his summons--all these had at last their triumph. she knew that she loved him; and that if he were to die, she would surely die too. and, oh, it must be that he loved her! had she not heard it in the music of his voice from the first?--the passion of his tones? the dreamy, lyrical swing of his talk by the old bronze guns? then she staggered sharply, and choked back a cry. for out of her recollections leaped two sentences of his--the first careless, imprudent, unforgivable; the second pregnant with meaning. "_ah, a star shoots!_" he had said. "_that means a kiss!_" and again, to the clergyman, "_i came here without the slightest expectation of getting what i asked for. there is another way, but i hate to use it._" she was the other way! she saw it plainly. he did not love her, but he saw that he could fascinate her, and he hoped to use her as an aid to his escape. she threw her head up proudly. then a man swung into view across the northern lights. virginia pressed back against the palings among the bushes until he should have passed. it was ned trent, returning from a walk to the end of the island. he was alone and unfollowed, and the girl realized with a sudden grip at the heart that the wilderness itself was sufficient safe-guard against a man unarmed and unequipped. it was not considered worth while even to watch him. should he escape, unarmed as he was, sure death by starvation awaited him in the land of dread. as he entered the settlement he struck up an air. _"le fils du roi s'en va chassant, en roulant ma boule, avec son grand fusil d'argent, rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."_ almost immediately a window slid back, and an exasperated voice cried out: "_hólà_ dere, w'at one time dam fool you for mak' de sing so late!" the voice went on imperturbably: "_avec son grand fusil d'argent, en roulant ma boule, visa le noir, tua le blanc, rouli roulant, ma boule roulant_." "_sacrè!_" shrieked the habitant. "hello, johnny frenchman!" called ned trent, in his acid tones. "that you? be more polite, or i'll stand here and sing you the whole of it." the window slammed shut. ned trent took up his walk again toward some designated sleeping-place of his own, his song dying into the distance. _"visa le noir, tua le blanc, en roulant ma boule, o fils du roi, tu es mêchant! rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."_ "and he can _sing_!" cried the girl bitterly to herself. "at such a time! oh, my dear god, help me, help me! i am the unhappiest girl alive!" _chapter eleven_ virginia did not sleep at all that night. she was reaching toward her new self. heretofore she had ruled those about her proudly, secure in her power and influence. now she saw that all along her influence had in not one jot exceeded that of the winsome girl. she had no real power at all. they went mercilessly on in the grim way of their fathers, dealing justice even-handed according to their own crude conceptions of it, without thought of god or man. she turned hot all over as she saw herself in this new light--as she saw those about her indulgently smiling at her airs of the mistress of it. it angered her--though the smile might be good-humored, even affectionate. and she shrank into herself with utter loathing when she remembered ned trent. there indeed her woman's pride was hard stricken. she recalled with burning cheeks how his intense voice had stirred her; how his wishes had compelled her; she shivered pitifully as she remembered the warmth of his shoulder touching carelessly her own. if he had come to her honestly and asked her aid, she would have given it; but this underhand pretence at love! it was unworthy of him; and it was certainly most unworthy of her. what must he think of her? how he must be laughing at her--and hoping that his spell was working, so that he could get the coveted rifle and the forty cartridges. "i hate him!" she cried to herself, the backs of her long, slender hands pressed against her eyes. she meant that she loved him, but for the purposes in hand one would do as well as the other. at earliest daylight she was up. bathing her face and throat in cold water, and hastily catching her beautiful light hair under a cap, she slipped down stairs and out past the stockade to the point. there she seated herself, a heavy shawl about her, and gave herself up to reflection. she had approached silently, her moccasins giving no sound. presently she became aware that someone was there before her. looking toward the river she saw on the next level below her a man, seated on a bowlder, and gazing to the south. his very soul was in his eyes. virginia gasped at the change in him since last she had seen him. the gay, mocking demeanor which had seemed an essential part of his very flesh and blood had fallen away from him, leaving a sad and lofty dignity that ennobled his countenance. the lines of his face were stern, of his mouth pathetic; his eyes yearned. he stared toward the south with an almost mesmeric intensity, as though he hoped by sheer longing to materialize a vision. tears sprang to the girl's eyes at the subtle pathos of his attitude. he stretched his arms wearily over his head, and sighed deeply and looked up. his eyes rested on the girl without surprise; the expression of his features did not change. "pardon me," he said, simply. "to-day is my last of plenty. i am up enjoying it." virginia had anticipated the usual instantaneous transformation of his manner when he should catch sight of her. her resentment was dispelled. in face of the vaster tragedies little considerations gave way. "do you leave--to-day?" she asked, in a low voice. "to-morrow morning, early," he corrected. "to-day i found my provisions packed and laid at my door. it is a hint i know how to take." "you have everything you need?" asked the girl, with an assumption of indifference. he looked her in the eyes for a moment. "everything," he lied, calmly. virginia perceived that he lied, and her heart stood still with a sudden hope that perhaps, at this eleventh hour, he might have repented of his unworthy intentions toward herself. she leaned to him over the edge of the little rise. "have you a rifle--for _la longue traverse_?" she inquired, with meaning. he stared at her a little the harder. "why--why, surely," he replied, in a tone less confident. "nobody travels without a rifle in the north." she dropped swiftly down the slope and stood face to face with him. "listen," she began, in her superb manner. "i know all there is to know. you are a free trader, and you are to be sent to your death. it is murder, and it is done by my father." she held her head proudly, but the notes of her voice were straining. "i knew nothing of this yesterday. i was a foolish girl who thought all men were good and just, and that all those whom i knew were noble. my eyes are open now. i see injustice being done by my own household, and"--tears were trembling near her lashes, but she blinked them back--"and i am no longer a foolish girl! you need not try to deceive me. you must tell me what i can do, for i cannot permit so great a wrong to be done by my father without attempting to set it right." this was not what she had intended to say, but suddenly the course was clear to her. the influence of the man had again swept over her, drowning her will, filling her with the old fear, which was now for the moment turned to pride by the character of the situation. but to her surprise the man was thinking of something else. "who told you?" he demanded, harshly. then, without waiting for a reply, "it was that little preacher; i'll have an interview with him!" "no, no!" protested the girl. "it was not he. it was a friend. i had the right to know." "you had no right!" he cried, vehemently. "you and life should have nothing to do with each other. there is a look in your eyes that was not in them yesterday, and the one who put it there is not your friend." he stood staring at her intently, as one who ponders what is best to do. then very quietly he took her hands and drew her to a place beside him on the bowlder. "i am going to tell you something, little girl," said he, "and you must listen quietly to the end. perhaps at the last you may see more clearly than you do now. "this old company of yours has been established for a great many years. back in old days, over two centuries ago, it pushed up into this wilderness to trade for its furs. that you know. and then it explored ever farther to the west and the north, until its servants stood on the shores of the pacific and the stretches of the arctic ocean. and its servants loved it. enduring immense hardships, cut off from their kind, outlining dimly with the eye of faith the structure of a mighty power, they loved it always. thousands of men were in its employ, and so loyal were they that its secrets were safe and its prestige was defended, often to a lonely death. i have known the company and its servants for a long time, and if i had leisure i could instance a hundred examples of devotion and sacrifice beside which mere patriotism would seem a little thing. men who had no country cleaved to her desolate posts, her lakes and rivers and forests; men who had no home ties felt the tug of her wild life at their hearts; men who had no god bowed in awe before her power and grandeur. the company was a living thing. "rivals attempted her supremacy, and were defeated by the steadfastness of the men who received her meagre wages and looked to her as their one ideal. her explorers were the bravest, her traders the most enterprising and single-minded, her factors and partners the most capable and potent in all the world. no country, no leader, no state ever received half the worship her sons gave her. the fierce nor'westers, the traders of montreal, the company of the x y, astor himself, had to give way. for, although they were bold or reckless or crafty or able, they had not the ideal which raises such qualities to invincibility. "and, little girl, nothing is wrong to men who have such an ideal before them. they see but one thing, and all means are good that help them to assure that one thing. they front the dangers, they overcome the hardships, they crush the rivals. bloody wars have taken place in these forests, ruthless deeds have been done, but the men who accomplished them held the deeds good. so for two hundred years, aided by the charter from the king, they have made good their undisputed right. "then the railroad entered the west. the charter of monopoly ran out. through the nipissing, the athabasca, the edmonton, came the free traders--men who traded independently. these the company could not control, so it competed--and to its credit its competition has held its own. even far into the northwest, where the trails are long, the free traders have established their chains of supplies, entering into rivalry with the company for a barter it has always considered its right. the medicine has been bitter, but the servants of the company have adjusted themselves to the new conditions, and are holding their own. "but one region still remains cut off from the outside world by a broad band of unexplored waste. the life here at hudson's bay--although you may not know it--is exactly the same to-day that it was two hundred years ago. and here the company makes its stand for a monopoly. "at first it worked openly. but in the case of guillaume sayer, a daring and pugnacious _mètis_, it got into trouble with the law. since that time it has wrapped itself in secrecy and mystery, carrying on its affairs behind the screen of five hundred miles of forest. here it has still the power; no man can establish himself here, can even travel here, without its consent, for it controls the food and the indians. the free trader enters, but he does not stay for long. the company's servants are mindful of their old fanatical ideal. nothing is ever known, no orders are ever given, but something happens, and the man never ventures again. "if he is an ordinary _mètis_ or canadian, he emerges from the forest starved, frightened, thankful. if his story is likely to be believed in high places, he never emerges at all. the dangers of wilderness travel are many: he succumbs to them. that is the whole story. nothing definite is known; no instances can be proved; your father denies the legend and calls it a myth. the company claims to be ignorant of it, perhaps its greater officers really are, but the legend holds so good that the journey has its name--_la longue traverse_. "but remember this, no man is to blame--unless it is he who of knowledge takes the chances. it is a policy, a growth of centuries, an idea unchangeable to which the long services of many fierce and loyal men have given substance. a factor cannot change it. if he did, the thing would be outside of nature, something not to be understood. "i am here. i am to take _la longue traverse_. but no man is to blame. if the scheme of the thing is wrong, it has been so from the very beginning, from the time when king charles set his signature to the charter of unlimited authority. the history of a thousand men gives the tradition power, gives it insistence. it is bigger than any one individual. it is as inevitable as that water should flow down hill." he had spoken quietly, but very earnestly, still holding her two hands, and she had sat looking at him unblinking from eyes behind which passed many thoughts. when he had finished, a short pause followed, at the end of which she asked unexpectedly, "last evening you told me that you might come to me and ask me to choose between my pity and what i might think to be my duty. what are you going to ask of me?" "nothing. i spoke idle words." "last evening i overheard you demand something of mr. crane," she pursued, without commenting on his answer. "when he refused you i heard you say these words, 'here is where i should have received aid; i may have to get it where i should not.' what was the aid you asked of him? and where else did you expect to get it?" "the aid was something impossible to accord, and i did not expect to get it elsewhere. i said that in order to induce him to help me." a wonderful light sprang to the girl's eyes, but still she maintained her level voice. "you asked him for a rifle with which to escape. you expected to get it of me. deny it if you can." ned trent looked at her keenly a moment, then dropped his eyes. "it is true," said he. "and the pity was to give you this weapon; and the duty was my duty to my father's house." "it is true," he repeated, dejectedly. "and you lied to me when you said you had a rifle with which to journey _la longue traverse_." "that too is true," he acknowledged. when next she spoke her voice was not quite so well controlled. "why did you not ask me, as you intended? why did you tell me these lies?" the young man hesitated, looked her in the face, turned away, and murmured, "i could not." "why?" persisted the girl. "why? you must tell me." "because," said ned trent--"because it could not be done. every rifle in the place is known. because you would be found out in this, and i do not know what your punishment might not be." "you knew this before?" insisted virginia, stonily. "yes." "then why did you change your mind?" "when first i saw you by the gun," began ned trent, in a low voice, "i was a desperate man, clutching at the slightest chance. the thought crossed my mind then that i might use you. then later i saw that i had some influence over you, and i made my plan. but last night--" "yes, last night?" urged virginia, softly. "last night i paced the island, and i found out many things. one of them was that i could not." "even though this dreadful journey--" "i would rather take my chances." again there was silence between them. "it was a good lie," then said virginia, gently--"a noble lie. and what you have told me to comfort me about my father has been nobly said. and i believe you, for i have known the truth about your fate." he shut his lips grimly. "why--why did you come?" she cried, passionately. "is the trade so good, are your needs then so great, that you must run these perils?" "my needs," he replied. "no; i have enough." "then why?" she insisted. "because that old charter has long since expired, and now this country is as free for me as for the company," he explained. "we are in a civilized century, and no man has a right to tell me where i shall or shall not go. does the company own the indians and the creatures of the woods?" something in the tone of his voice brought her eyes steadily to his for a moment. "is that all?" she asked at length. he hesitated, looked away, looked back again. "no, it is not," he confessed, in a low voice. "it is a thing i do not speak of. my father was a servant of this company, a good, true servant. no man was more honest, more zealous, more loyal." "i am sure of it," said virginia, softly. "but in some way that he never knew himself he made enemies in high places. the cowards did not meet him man to man, and so he never knew who they were. if he had, he would have killed them. but they worked against him always. he was given hard posts, inadequate supplies, scant help, and then he was held to account for what he could not do. finally he left the company in disgrace--undeserved disgrace. he became a free trader in the days when to become a free trader was worse than attacking a grizzly with cubs. in three years he was killed. but when i grew to be a man"--he clenched his teeth--"by god! how i have _prayed_ to know who did it." he brooded for a moment, then went on. "still, i have accomplished something. i have traded in spite of your factors in many districts. one summer i pushed to the coppermine in the teeth of them, and traded with the yellow knives for the robes of the musk-ox. and they knew me and feared my rivalry, these traders of the company. no district of the far north but has felt the influence of my bartering. the traders of all districts--fort au liard, lapierre's house, fort rae, ile à la crosse, portage la loche, lac la biche, jasper's house, the house of the touchwood hills--all these, and many more, have heard of ned trent." "your father--you knew him well?" "no, but i remember him--a tall, dark man, with a smile always in his eyes and a laugh on his lips. i was brought up at a school in winnipeg under a priest. two or three times in the year my father used to appear for a few days. i remember well the last time i saw him. i was about thirteen years old. 'you are growing to be a man,' said he; 'next year we will go out on the trail.' i never saw him again." "what happened?" "oh, he was just killed," replied ned trent, bitterly. the girl laid her hand on his arm with an appealing little gesture. "i am so sorry," said she. "i have no portrait of him," continued the free trader, after an instant. "no gift from his hands; nothing at all of his but this." he showed her an ordinary little silver match-safe such as men use in the north country. "they brought that to me at the last--the indians who came to tell my priest the news; and the priest, who was a good man, gave it to me. i have carried it ever since." virginia took it reverently. to her it had all the largeness that envelops the symbol of a great passion. after a moment she looked up in surprise. "why!" she exclaimed, "this has a name carved on it!" "yes," he replied. "but the name is graehme stewart." "of course i could not bear my father's name in a country where it was well known," he explained. "of course," she agreed. impulsively she raised her face to his, her eyes shining. "to me all this is very fine," said she. he smiled a little sadly. "at least you know why i came." "yes," she repeated, "i know why you came. but you are in trouble." "the chances of war." "and they have defeated you after all." "i shall start on _la longue traverse_ singing 'rouli roulant.' it's a small defeat, that." "listen," said she, rapidly. "when i was quite a small girl mr. mctavish, of rupert's house, gave me a little rifle. i have never used it, because i do not care to shoot. that rifle has never been counted, and my father has long since forgotten all about it. you must take that, and escape to-night. i will let you have it on one condition--that you give me your solemn promise never to venture into this country again." "yes," he agreed, without enthusiasm nor surprise. she smiled happily at his gloomy face and listless attitude. "but i do not want to give up the little rifle entirely," she went on, with dainty preciosity, watching him closely. "as i said, it was a present, given to me when i was quite a small girl. you must return it to me at quebec, in august. will you promise to do that?" he wheeled on her swift as light, the eagerness flashing back into his face. "you are going to quebec?" he cried. "my father wishes me to. i have decided to do so. i shall start with the abítibi _brigade_ in july." he leaped to his feet. "i promise!" he exulted, "i promise! to-night, then! bring the rifle and the cartridges, and some matches, and a little salt. you must take me across the river in a canoe, for i want them to guess at where i strike the woods. i shall cover my trail. and with ten hours' start, let them catch ned trent who can!" she laughed happily. "to-night, then. at the south of the island there is a trail, and at the end of the trail a beach--" "i know!" he cried. "meet me there as soon after dark as you can do so without danger." he threw his hat into the air and caught it, his face boyishly upturned. again that something, so vaguely familiar, plucked at her with its ghostly, appealing fingers. she turned swiftly, and seized them, and so found herself in possession of a memory out of her far-off childhood. "i know you!" she cried. "i have seen you before this!" he bent his puzzled gaze upon her. "i was a very little girl," she explained, "and you but a lad. it was at a party, i think, a great and brilliant party, for i remember many beautiful women and fine men. you held me up in your arms for people to see, because i was going on a long journey." "i remember, of course i do!" he exclaimed. a bell clanged, turning over and over, calling the company's men to their day. "farewell," she said, hurriedly. "to-night." "to-night," he repeated. she glided rapidly through the grass, noiseless in her moccasined feet. and as she went she heard his voice humming soft and low, "_isabeau s'y promène le long de son jardin, le long de son jardin, sur le bord de l'île, le long de son jardin_." "how could he _help_ singing," murmured virginia, fondly. "ah, dear heaven, but i am the happiest girl alive!" such a difference can one night bring about. _chapter twelve_ the day rose and flooded the land with its fuller life. all through the settlement the post indians and half-breeds set about their tasks. some aided sarnier with his calking of the bateaux; some worked in the fields; some mended or constructed in the different shops. at eight o'clock the bell rang again, and they ate breakfast. then a group of seven, armed with muzzle-loading "trade-guns" bound in brass, set out for the marshes in hopes of geese. for the flight was arriving, and the hudson bay man knows very well the flavor of goose-flesh, smoked, salted, and barrelled. now the _voyageurs_ began to stroll into the sun. they were men of leisure. picturesque, handsome, careless, debonair, they wandered back and forth, smoking their cigarettes, exhibiting their finery. indian women, wrinkled and careworn, plodded patiently about on various businesses. indian girls, full of fun and mischief, drifted here and there in arm-locked groups of a dozen, smiling, whispering among themselves, ready to collapse toward a common centre of giggles if addressed by one of the numerous woods-dandies, indian men stalked singly, indifferent, stolid. indian children of all sizes and degrees of nakedness darted back and forth, playing strange games. the sound of many voices rose across the air. once the voices moderated, when mcdonald, the chief trader, walked rapidly from the barracks building to the trading store; once they died entirely into a hush of respect, when galen albret himself appeared on the broad veranda of the factory. he stood for a moment--hulked broad and black against the whitewash--his hands clasped behind him, gazing abstractedly toward the distant bay. then he turned into the house to some mysterious and weighty business of his own. the hubbub at once broke out again. now about the mouth of the long picketed lane leading to the massive trading store gathered a silent group, bearing packs. these were indians from the more immediate vicinity, desirous of trading their skins. after a moment mcdonald appeared in the doorway, a hundred feet away, and raised his hand. two of the savages, and two only, trotted down the narrow picket lane, their packs on their shoulders. mcdonald ushered them into a big square room, where the bales were undone and spread abroad. deftly, silently the trader sorted the furs, placing to one side or the other the "primes," "seconds," and "thirds" of each species. for a moment he calculated. then he stepped to a post whereon hung long strings of pierced wooden counters, worn smooth by use. swiftly he told the strings over. to one of the indians he gave one with these words: "mu-hi-kun, my brother, here be pelts to the value of two hundred 'beaver.' behold a string, then, of two hundred 'castors,' and in addition i give my brother one fathom of tobacco." the indian calculated rapidly, his eye abstracted. he had known exactly the value of his catch, and what he would receive for it in "castors," but had hoped for a larger "present," by which the premium on the standard price is measured. "ah hah," he exclaimed, finally, and stepped to one side. "sak-we-su, my brother," went on mcdonald, "here be pelts to the value of three hundred 'beaver.' behold a string, then, of three hundred 'castors,' and because you have brought so fine a skin of the otter, behold also a fathom of tobacco and a half sack of flour." "good!" ejaculated the indian. the trader then led them to stairs, up which they clambered to where davis, the assistant trader, kept store. there, barred by a heavy wooden grill from the airy loft filled with bright calicoes, sashes, pails, guns, blankets, clothes, and other ornamental and useful things, sak-we-su and mu-hi-kun made their choice, trading in the worn wooden "castors" on the string. so much flour, so much tea, so much sugar and powder and lead, so much in clothing. thus were their simple needs supplied for the year to come. then the remainder they squandered on all sorts of useless things--beads, silks, sashes, bright handkerchiefs, mirrors. and when the last wooden "castor" was in they went down stairs and out the picket lane, carrying their lighter purchases, but leaving the larger as "debt," to be called for when needed. two of their companions mounted the stairs as they descended; and two more passed them in the narrow picket lane. so the trade went on. at once sak-we-su and mu-hi-kun were surrounded. in detail they told what they had done. then in greater detail their friends told what _they_ would have done, until after five minutes of bewildering advice the disconsolate pair would have been only too glad to have exchanged everything--if that had been allowed. now the bell rang again. it was "smoke time." everyone quit work for a half-hour. the sun climbed higher in the heavens. the laughing crews of idlers sprawled in the warmth, gambling, telling stories, singing. then one might have heard all the picturesque songs of the far north--"a la claire fontaine"; "ma boule roulant"; "par derrièr' chez-mon père"; "isabeau s'y promène"; "p'tite jeanneton"; "luron, lurette"; "chante, rossignol, chante"; the ever-popular "malbrouck"; "c'est la belle françoise"; "alouette"; or the beautiful and tender "la violette dandine." they had good voices, these _voyageurs_, with the french artistic instinct, and it was fine to hear them. at noon the squaws set out to gather canoe gum on the mainland. they sat huddled in the bottom of their old and leaky canoe, reaching far over the sides to dip their paddles, irregularly placed, silent, mysterious. they did not paddle with the unison of the men, but each jabbed a little short stroke as the time suited her, so that always some paddles were rising and some falling. into the distance thus they flapped like wounded birds; then rounded a bend, and were gone. the sun swung over and down the slope. dinner time had passed; "smoke time" had come again. squaws brought the first white-fish of the season to the kitchen door of the factory, and matthews raised the hand of horror at the price they asked. finally he bought six of about three pounds each, giving in exchange tea to the approximate value of twelve cents. the indian women went away, secretly pleased over their bargain. down by the indian camp suddenly broke the roar of a dog-fight. two of the sledge _giddés_ had come to teeth, and the friends of both were assisting the cause. the idlers went to see, laughing, shouting, running impromptu races. they sat on their haunches and cheered ironically, and made small bets, and encouraged the frantic old squaw hags who, at imminent risk, were trying to disintegrate the snarling, rolling mass. over in the high log stockade wherein the company's sledge animals were confined, other wolf-dogs howled mournfully, desolated at missing the fun. and always the sun swung lower and lower toward the west, until finally the long northern twilight fell, and the girl in the little white bedroom at the factory bathed her face and whispered for the hundredth time to her beating heart: "night has come!" _chapter thirteen_ that evening at dinner virginia studied her father's face again. she saw the square settled line of the jaw under the beard, the unwavering frown of the heavy eyebrows, the unblinking purpose of the cavernous, mysterious eyes. never had she felt herself very close to this silent, inscrutable man, even in his moments of more affectionate expansion. now a gulf divided them. and yet, strangely enough, she experienced no revulsion, no horror, no recoil even. he had merely become more aloof, more incomprehensible; his purposes vaster, less susceptible to the grasp of such as she. there may have been some basis for this feeling, or it may have been merely the reflex glow of a joy that made all other things seem insignificant. as soon as might be after the meal virginia slipped away, carrying the rifle, the cartridges, the matches, and the salt. she was cruelly frightened. the night was providentially dark. no aurora threw its splendor across the dome, and only a few rare stars peeped between the light cirrus clouds. virginia left behind her the buildings of the post, she passed in safety the tin-steepled chapel and the church house; there remained only the indian camp between her and the woods trail. at once the dogs began to bark and howl, the fierce _giddés_ lifting their pointed noses to the sky. the girl hurried on, swinging far to the right through the grass. to her relief the camp did not respond to the summons. an old crone or so appeared in the flap of a teepee, eyes dazzled, to throw uselessly a billet of wood or a volley of cree abuse at the animals nearest. in a moment virginia entered the trail. here was no light at all. she had to proceed warily, feeling with her moccasins for the beaten pathway, to which she returned with infinite caution whenever she trod on grass or leaves. though her sight was dulled, her hearing was not. a thousand scurrying noises swirled about her; a multitude of squeaks, whistles, snorts, and whines attested that she disturbed the forest creatures at their varied businesses; and underneath spoke an apparent dozen of terrifying voices which were in reality only the winds and the trees. virginia knew that these things were not dangerous--that daylight would show them to be only deer-mice, hares, weasels, bats, and owls--nevertheless, they had their effect. for about her was cloying velvet blackness--not the closed-in blackness of a room, where one feels the embrace of the four walls, but the blackness of infinite space through which sweep mysterious currents of air. after a long time she turned sharp to the left. after a long time more she perceived a faint, opalescent glimmer in the distance ahead. this she knew to be the river. she felt her way onward, still cautiously; then she choked back a scream and dropped her burden with a clatter to the ground. a dark figure seemed to have risen mysteriously at her side. "i didn't mean to frighten you," said ned trent, in guarded tones. "i heard you coming. i thought you could hear me." he picked up the fallen articles, running his hands over them rapidly. "good," he whispered. "i got some moccasins to-day--traded a few things i had in my pockets for them. i'm fixed." "have you a canoe?" she asked. "yes--here on the beach." he preceded her down the few remaining yards of the trail. she followed, already desolated at the thought of parting, for the wilderness was very big. the bulk of the man partly blotted out the lucent spot where the river was--now his arm, now his head, now the breadth of his shoulders. this silhouette of him was dear to her, the sound of his movements, the faint stir of his breathing borne to her on the light breeze. virginia's tender heart almost overflowed with longing and fear for him. they emerged on a little slope and at once pushed the canoe into the current. she accepted the aid of his hand for a moment, and sank to her place, facing him. he spurned lightly the shore, and so they were adrift. in a moment they seemed to be floating on a vast vapor of night, infinitely remote from anywhere, surrounded by the silence that might have been before the world's beginning. a faint splash could have been a muskrat near at hand or a caribou far away. the paddle rose and dipped with a faint _swish, swish_, and the steersman's twist of it was taken up by the man's strong wrist so it did not click against the gunwale; the bow of the craft divided the waters with a murmuring so faint as to seem but the echo of a silence. neither spoke. virginia watched him, her heart too full for words; watched the full swing of his strong shoulders, the balance of his body at the hips, the poise of his head against the dull sky. in a moment more the parting would have to come. she dreaded it, and yet she looked forward to it with a hungry joy. then he would say what she had seen in his eyes; then he would speak; then she would hear the words that should comfort her in the days of waiting. for a woman lives much for the present, and the moment's word is an important thing. the man swung his paddle steadily, throwing into the strokes a wanton exuberance that showed how high his spirits ran. after a time, when they were well out from the shore, he took a deep breath of delight. "ah, you don't know how happy i am," he exulted, "you don't know! to be free, to play the game, to match my wits against theirs--ah, that is life!" "i am sorry to see you go," she murmured, "very sorry. the days will be full of terror until i know you are safe." "oh, yes," he answered; "but i'll get there, and i shall tell it all to you at quebec--at quebec in august. it will be a brave tale! you will be there--surely?" "yes," said the girl, softly; "i will be there--surely." "good! feel the wind on your cheek? it is from the southland, where i am going. i have ventured--and i have not lost! it is something not to lose, when one has ventured against many. they have my goods--but i--" "you?" repeated virginia, as he hesitated. "ah, i don't go back empty-handed!" he cried. her heart stood still, then leaped in anticipation of what he would say. her soul hungered for the words, the words that should not only comfort her, but should be to her the excuse for many things. she saw him--shadowy, graceful against the dim gray of the river and sky--lean ever so slightly toward her. but then he straightened again to his paddle, and contented himself with repeating merely: "quebec--in august, then." the canoe grated. ned trent with an exclamation drove his paddle into the clay. "lucky the bottom is soft here," said he; "i did not realize we were so close ashore." he drew the canoe up on the shelving beach, helped virginia out, took his rifle, and so stood ready to depart. "leave the canoe just where we got in," he advised; "it is around the point, you see, and that may fool them a little." "you are going," she said, dully. then she came close to him and looked up at him with her wonderful eyes. "good-by." "good-by," said he. was this to be all? had he nothing more to tell her? was the word to lack, the word she needed so much? she had given herself unreservedly into this man's hands, and at parting he had no more to say to her than "good-by." virginia's eyes were tearful, but she would not let him know that. she felt that her heart would break. "well, good-by," he said again after a moment, which he had spent inspecting the heavens. "ah, you don't _know_ what it is to be free! by to-morrow morning i shall be half-way to the mattágami. i can hardly wait to see it, for then i am safe! and then next day--why, next day they won't know which of a dozen ways i've gone!" he was full of the future, man-fashion. he took her hands, leaned over, and lightly kissed her on the mouth. instantly virginia became wildly and unreasonably angry. she could not have told herself why, but it was the lack of the word she had wanted so much, the pain of feeling that he could go like that, the thwarted bitterness of a longing that had grown stronger than she had even yet realized. instinctively she leaped into the canoe, sending it spinning from the bank. "ah, you had no _right_ to do that!" she cried. "i gave you no _right_!" then, heedless of what he was saying, she began to paddle straight from the shore, weeping bitterly, her face upraised, her hair in her eyes, and the tears coursing unheeded down her cheeks. _chapter fourteen_ slower and slower her paddle dipped, lower and lower hung her head, faster and faster flowed her tears. the instinctive recoil, the passionate resentment had gone. in the bitterness of her spirit she knew not what she thought except that she would give her soul to see him again, to feel the touch of his lips once more. for she could not make herself believe that this would ever come to pass. he had gone like a phantom, like a dream, and the mists of life had closed about him, showing no sign. he had vanished, and at once she seemed to know that the episode was finished. the canoe whispered against the soft clay bottom. she had arrived, though how the crossing had been made she could not have told. slowly and sorrowfully she disembarked. languidly she drew the light craft beyond the stream's eager fingers. then, her forces at an end, she huddled down on the ground and gave herself up to sorrow. the life of the forest went on as though she were not there. a big owl far off said hurriedly his _whoo-whoo-whoo_, as though he had the message to deliver and wanted to finish the task. a smaller owl near at hand cried _ko-ko-ko-oh_ with the intonation of a tin horn. across the river a lynx screamed, and was answered at once by the ululations of wolves. on the island the _giddés_ howled defiance. then from above, clear, spiritual, floated the whistle of shore birds arriving from the south. close by sounded a rustle of leaves, a sharp squeak; a tragedy had been consummated, and the fierce little mink stared malevolently across the body of his victim at the motionless figure on the beach. virginia, drowned in grief, knew of none of these things. she was seeing again the clear brown face of the stranger, his curly brown hair, his steel eyes, and the swing of his graceful figure. now he fronted the wondering _voyageurs_, one foot raised against the bow of the _brigade_ canoe; now he stood straight and tall against the light of the sitting-room door; now he emptied the vials of his wrath and contempt on archibald crane's reverend head; now he passed in the darkness, singing gayly the _chanson de canôt_. but more fondly she saw him as he swept his hat to the ground on discovering her by the guns, as he bent his impassioned eyes on her in the dim lamplight of their first interview, as he tossed his hat aloft in the air when he had understood that she would be in quebec. she hugged the visions to her, and wept over them softly, for she was now sure she would never see him again. and she heard his voice, now laughing, now scornful, now mocking, now indignant, now rich and solemn with feeling. he flouted the people, he turned the shafts of his irony on her father, he scathed the minister, he laughed at louis placide awakened from his sleep, he sang, he told her of the land of desolation, he pleaded. she could hear him calling her name--although he had never spoken it--in low, tender tones, "virginia! virginia!" over and over again softly, as though his soul were crying through his lips. then somehow, in a manner not to be comprehended, it was borne in on her consciousness that he was indeed near her, and that he was indeed calling her name. and at once she made him out, standing dripping on the beach. a moment later she was in his arms. "ah!" he cried, in gladness; "you are here!" he crushed her hungrily to him, unmindful of his wet clothes, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, her chin, even the fragrant corner of her throat exposed by the collar of her gown. she did not struggle. "oh!" she murmured, "my dear, my dear! why did you come back? why did you come?" "why did i come?" he repeated, passionately. "why did i come? can you ask that? how could i help but come? you must have known i would come. surely you must have known! didn't you hear me calling you when you paddled away? i came to get the right. i came to get your promise, your kisses, to hear you say the word, to get you! i thought you understood. it was all so clear to me. i thought you knew. that was why i was so glad to go, so eager to get away that i could not even realize i was parting from you--so i could the sooner reach quebec--reach you! don't you see how i felt? all this present was merely something to get over, to pass by, to put behind us until i got to quebec in august--and you. i looked forward so eagerly to that, i was so anxious to get away, i was desirous of hastening on to the time when things could be _sure_! don't you understand?" "yes, i think i do," replied the girl, softly. "and i thought of course you knew. i should not have kissed you otherwise." "how could i know?" she sighed. "you said nothing, and, oh! i _wanted_ so to hear!" and singularly enough he said nothing now, but they stood facing each other hand in hand, while the great vibrant life they were now touching so closely filled their hearts and eyes, and left them faint. so they stood for hours or for seconds, they could not tell, spirit-hushed, ecstatic. the girl realized that they must part. "you must go," she whispered brokenly, at last. "i do not want you to, but you must." she smiled up at him with trembling lips that whispered to her soul that she must be brave. "now go," she nerved herself to say, releasing her hands. "tell me," he commanded. "what?" she asked. "what i most want to hear." "i can tell you many things," said she, soberly, "but i do not know which of them you want to hear. ah, ned, i can tell you that you have come into a girl's life to make her very happy and very much afraid. and that is a solemn thing; is it not?" "yes," said he. "and i can tell you that this can never be undone. that is a solemn thing, too, is it not?" "yes," said he. "and that, according as you treat her, this girl will believe or not believe in the goodness of all men or the badness of all men. ah, ned, a woman's heart is fragile, and mine is in your keeping." her face was raised bravely and steadily to his. in the starlight it shone white and pathetic. and her eyes were two liquid wells of darkness in the shadow, and her half-parted lips were wistful and childlike. the man caught both her hands, again looking down on her. then he answered her, solemnly and humbly. "virginia," said he, "i am setting out on a perilous journey. as i deal with you, may god deal with me." "ah, that is as i like you," she breathed. "good-by," said he. she raised her lips of her own accord, and he kissed them reverently. "good-by," she murmured. he turned away with an effort and ran down the beach to the canoe. "good-by, good-by," she murmured, under her breath. "ah, good-by! i love you! oh, i do love you!" [illustration: "go home before they search the woods." scene from the play.] then suddenly from the bushes leaped dark figures. the still night was broken by the sound of a violent scuffle--blows--a fall. she heard ned trent's voice calling to her from the _mêlée_. "go back at once!" he commanded, clearly and steadily. "you can do no good. i order you to go home before they search the woods." but she crouched in dazed terror, her pupils wide to the dim light. she saw them bind him, and stand waiting; she saw a canoe glide out of the darkness; she saw the occupants of the canoe disembark; she saw them exhibit her little rifle, and heard them explain in cree, that they had followed the man swimming. then she knew that the cause was lost, and fled as swiftly as she could through the forest. _chapter fifteen_ galen albret had chosen to interrogate his recaptured prisoner alone. he sat again in the arm-chair of the council room. the place was flooded with sun. it touched the high-lights of the time-darkened, rough furniture, it picked out the brasses, it glorified the whitewashed walls. in its uncompromising illumination me-en-gan, the bowsman, standing straight and tall and silent by the door, studied his master's face and knew him to be deeply angered. for galen albret was at this moment called upon to deal with a problem more subtle than any with which his policy had been puzzled in thirty years. it was bad enough that, in repeated defiance of his authority, this stranger should persist in his attempt to break the company's monopoly; it was bad enough that he had, when captured, borne himself with so impudent an air of assurance; it was bad enough that he should have made open love to the factor's daughter, should have laughed scornfully in the factor's very face. but now the case had become grave. in some mysterious manner he had succeeded in corrupting one of the company's servants. treachery was therefore to be dealt with. some facts galen albret had well in hand. others eluded him persistently. he had, of course, known promptly enough of the disappearance of a canoe, and had thereupon dispatched his indians to the recapture. the reverend archibald crane had reported that two figures had been seen in the act of leaving camp, one by the river, the other by the woods trail. but here the factor's investigations encountered a check. the rifle brought in by his indians, to his bewilderment, he recognized not at all. his repeated cross-questionings, when they touched on the question of ned trent's companion, got no farther than the cree wooden stolidity. no, they had seen no one, neither presence, sign, nor trail. but galen albret, versed in the psychology of his savage allies, knew they lied. he suspected them of clan loyalty to one of their own number; and yet they had never failed him before. now, his heavy revolver at his right hand, he interviewed ned trent, alone, except for the indian by the portal. as with the indians, his cross-examination had borne scant results. the best of his questions but involved him in a maze of baffling surmises. gradually his anger had mounted, until now the indian at the door knew by the wax-like appearance of the more prominent places on his deeply carved countenance that he had nearly reached the point of outbreak. swiftly, like the play of rapiers, the questions and answers broke across the still room. "you had aid," the factor asserted, positively. "you think so?" "my indians say you were alone. but where did you get this rifle?" "i stole it." "you were alone?" ned trent paused for a barely appreciable instant. it was not possible that the indians had failed to establish the girl's presence, and he feared a trap. then he caught the expressive eye of me-en-gan at the door. evidently virginia had friends. "i was alone," he repeated, confidently. "that is a lie. for though my indians were deceived, two people were observed by my clergyman to leave the post immediately before i sent out to your capture. one rounded the island in a canoe; the other took the woods trail." "bully for the church," replied trent, imperturbably. "better promote him to your scouts." "who was that second person?" "do you think i will tell you?" "i think i'll find means to make you tell me!" burst out the factor. ned trent was silent. "if you'll tell me the name of that man i'll let you go free. i'll give you a permit to trade in the country. it touches my authority--my discipline. the affair becomes a precedent. it is vital." ned trent fixed his eyes on the bay and hummed a little air, half turning his shoulder to the older man. the latter's face blazed with suppressed fury. twice his hand rested almost convulsively on the butt of his heavy revolver. "ned trent," he cried, harshly, at last, "pay attention to me. i've had enough of this. i swear if you do not tell me what i want to know within five minutes, i'll hang you to-day!" the young man spun on his heel. "hanging!" he cried. "you cannot mean that?" the free trader measured him up and down, saw that his purpose was sincere, and turned slowly pale under the bronze of his out-of-door tan. hanging is always a dreadful death, but in the far north it carries an extra stigma of ignominy with it, inasmuch as it is resorted to only with the basest malefactors. shooting is the usual form of execution for all but the most despicable crimes. he turned away with a little gesture. "well!" cried albret. ned trent locked his lips in a purposeful straight line of silence. to such an outrage there could be nothing to say. the factor jerked his watch to the table. "i said five minutes," he repeated. "i mean it." [illustration: "go to the devil!" scene from the play.] the young man leaned against the side of the window, his arms folded, his back to the room. outside, the varied life of the post went forward under his eyes. he even noted with a surface interest the fact that out across the river a loon was floating, and remarked that never before had he seen one of those birds so far north. galen albret struck the table with the flat of his hand. "done!" he cried, "this is the last chance i shall give you. speak at this instant or accept the consequences!" ned trent turned sharply, as though breaking a thread that bound him to the distant prospect beyond the window. for an instant he stared enigmatically at his opponent. then in the sweetest tones, "oh, go to the devil!" said he, and began to walk deliberately toward the older man. there lay between the window and the head of the table perhaps a dozen ordinary steps, for the room was large. the young man took them slowly, his eyes fixed with burning intensity on the seated figure, the muscles of his locomotion contracting and relaxing with the smooth, stealthy continuity of a cat. galen albret again laid hand on his revolver. "come no nearer," he commanded. me-en-gan left the door and glided along the wall. but the table intervened between him and the free trader. the latter paid no attention to the factor's command. galen albret suddenly raised his weapon from the table. "stop, or i'll fire!" he cried, sharply. "i mean just that," said ned trent between his clenched teeth. but ten feet separated the two men. galen albret levelled the revolver. ned trent, watchful, prepared to spring. me-en-gan, near the foot of the table, gathered himself for attack. then suddenly the free trader relaxed his muscles, straightened his back, and returned deliberately to the window. facing about in astonishment to discover the reason for this sudden change of decision, the other two men looked into the face of virginia albret, standing in the doorway of the other room. "father!" she cried. "you must go back," said ned trent, speaking clearly and collectedly, in the hope of imposing his will on her obvious excitement. "this is not an affair in which you should interfere. galen albret, send her away." the factor had turned squarely in his heavy arm-chair to regard the girl, a frown on his brows. "virginia," he commanded, in deliberate, stern tones of authority, "leave the room. you have nothing to do with this case, and i do not desire your interference." virginia stepped bravely beyond the portals, and stopped. her fingers were nervously interlocked, her lip trembled, in her cheeks the color came and went, but her eyes met her father's, unfaltering. "i have more to do with it than you think," she replied. instantly ned trent was at the table. "i really think this has gone far enough," he interposed. "we have had our interview, and come to a decision. miss albret must not be permitted to exaggerate a slight sentiment of pity into an interest in my affairs. if she knew that such a demonstration only made it worse for me i am sure she would say no more." he looked at her appealingly across the factor's shoulder. me-en-gan was already holding open the door. "you come," he smiled, beseechingly. but the factor's suspicions were aroused. [illustration: "i have more to do with it than you think!" scene from the play.] "there is something in this," he decided. "i think you may stay, virginia." "you are right," broke in the young man, desperately. "there is something in it. miss albret knows who gave me the rifle, and she was about to inform you of his identity. there is no need in subjecting her to that distasteful ordeal. i am now ready to confess to you. i beg you will ask her to leave the room." galen albret, in the midst of these warring intentions, had sunk into his customary impassive calm. the light had died from his eyes, the expression from his face, the energy from his body. he sat, an inert mass, void of initiative, his intelligence open to what might be brought to his notice. "virginia, this is true?" his heavy, dead voice rumbled through his beard. "you know who aided this man?" ned trent mutely appealed to her; her glance answered his. "yes, father," she replied. "who?" "i did." a dead silence fell on the room. galen albret's expression and attitude did not change. through dull, lifeless eyes, from behind the heavy mask of his waxen face and white beard, he looked steadily out upon nothing. along either arm of the chair stretched his own arms limp and heavy with inertia. in suspense the other three inmates of the place watched him, waiting for some change. it did not come. finally his lips moved. "you?" he muttered, questioningly. "i," she repeated. another silence fell. "why?" he asked at last. "because it was an unjust thing. because we could not think of taking a life in that way, without some reason for it." "why?" he persisted, taking no account of her reply. virginia let her gaze slowly rest on the free trader, and her eyes filled with a world of tenderness and trust. "because i love him," said she, softly. _chapter sixteen_ after an instant galen albret turned slowly his massive head and looked at her. he made no other movement, yet she staggered back as though she had received a violent blow on the chest. "father!" she gasped. still slowly, gropingly, he arose to his feet, holding tight to the edge of the table. behind him unheeded the rough-built arm-chair crashed to the floor. he stood there upright and motionless, looking straight before him, his face formidable. at first his speech was disjointed. the words came in widely punctuated gasps. then, as the wave of his emotion rolled back from the poise into which the first shock of anger had thrown it, it escaped through his lips in a constantly increasing stream of bitter words. "you--you love him," he cried. "you--my daughter! you have been--a traitor--to me! you have dared--dared--deny that which my whole life has affirmed! my own flesh and blood--when i thought the nearest _mètis_ of them all more loyal! you love this man--this man who has insulted me, mocked me! you have taken his part against me! you have deliberately placed yourself in the class of those i would hang for such an offence! if you were not my daughter i would hang you. hang my own child!" suddenly his rage flared. "you little fool! do you dare set your judgment against mine? do you dare interfere where i think well? do you dare deny my will? by the eternal, i'll show you, old as you are, that you have still a father! get to your room! out of my sight!" he took two steps forward, and so his eye fell on ned trent. he uttered a scream of rage, and reached for the pistol. fortunately the abruptness of his movement when he arose had knocked it to the floor, so now in the blindness of a red anger he could not see it. he shrieked out an epithet and jumped forward, his arm drawn to strike. ned trent leaped back into an attitude of defence. all three of those present had many times seen galen albret possessed by his noted fits of anger, so striking in contrast to his ordinary contained passivity. but always, though evidently in a white heat of rage and given to violent action and decision, he had retained the clearest command of his faculties, issuing coherent and dreaded orders to those about him. now he had become a raging wild beast. and for the spectators the sight had all the horror of the unprecedented. but the younger man, too, had gradually heated to the point where his ordinary careless indifference could give off sparks. the interview had been baffling, the threats real and unjust, the turn of affairs when virginia albret entered the room most exasperating on the side of the undesirable and unforeseen. in foiled escape, in thwarted expedient, his emotions had been many times excited, and then eddied back on themselves. the potentialities of as blind an anger as that of galen albret were in him. it only needed a touch to loose the flood. the physical threat of a blow supplied that touch. as the two men faced each other both were ripe for the extreme of recklessness. but while galen albret looked to nothing less than murder, the free-trader's individual genius turned to dead defiance and resistance of will. while galen albret's countenance reflected the height of passion, trent was as smiling and cool and debonair as though he had at that moment received from the older man an extraordinary and particular favor. only his eyes shot a baleful blue flame, and his words, calmly enough delivered, showed the extent to which his passion had cast policy to the winds. "don't go too far! i warn you!" said he. as though the words had projected him bodily forward, galen albret sprang to deliver his blow. the free trader ducked rapidly, threw his shoulder across the middle of the older man's body, and by the very superiority of his position forced his antagonist to give ground. that the struggle would have then continued body to body there can be no doubt, had it not been for the fact that the factor's retrogressive movement brought his knees sharply against the edge of a chair standing near the side of the table. albret lost his balance, wavered, and finally sat down violently. ned trent promptly pinned him by the shoulder into powerless immobility. me-en-gan had possessed himself of the fallen pistol, but beyond keeping a generally wary eye out for dangerous developments, did not offer to interfere. your indian is in such a crisis a disciplinarian, and he had received no orders. "now," said ned trent, acidly, "i think this will stop right here. you do not cut a very good figure, my dear sir," he laughed a little. "you haven't cut a very good figure from the beginning, you know. you forbade me to do various things, and i have done them all. i traded with your indians. i came and went in your country. do you think i have not been here often before i was caught? and you forbade me to see your daughter again. i saw her that very evening, and the next morning and the next evening." he stood, still holding galen albret immovably in the chair, looking steadily and angrily into the factor's eyes, driving each word home with the weight of his contained passion. the girl touched his arm. "hush! oh, hush!" she cried in a panic. "do not anger him further!" "when you forbade me to make love to her," he continued, unheeding, "i laughed at you." with a sudden, swift motion of his left arm he drew her to him and touched her forehead with his lips. "look! your commands have been rather ridiculous, sir. i seem to have had the upper hand of you from first to last. incidentally you have my life. oh, welcome! that is small pay and little satisfaction." he threw himself from the factor and stepped back. galen albret sat still without attempting to renew the struggle. the enforced few moments of inaction had restored to him his self-control. he was still deeply angered, but the insanity of rage had left him. outwardly he was himself again. only a rapid heaving of his chest answered ned trent's quick breathing, as the two men glared defiantly at each other in the pause that followed. "very well, sir," said the factor, curtly, at last. "your time is over. i find it unnecessary to hang you. you will start on your _longue traverse_ to-day." "oh!" cried virginia, in a low voice of agony, and fluttered to her lover's side. "hush! hush!" he soothed her. "there is a chance." "you think so?" broke in galen albret, harshly. and looking at his set face and blazing eyes, they saw that there was no chance. the free trader shrugged his shoulders. "you are going to do this thing, father," appealed virginia, "after what i have told you?" "my mind is made up." "i shall not survive him, father!" she threatened, in a low voice. then, as the factor did not respond, "do not misunderstand me. i do not intend to survive him." "silence! silence! silence!" cried galen albret, in a crescendo outburst. "silence! i will not be gainsaid! you have made your choice! you are no longer a daughter of mine!" "father!" cried virginia, faintly, her lips going pale. "don't speak to me! don't look at me! get out of here! get out of the place! i won't have you here another day--another hour! by--" the girl hesitated for a moment, then ran to him, sinking on her knees, and clasping his hand. "father," she pleaded, "you are not yourself. this has been very trying to you. to-morrow you will be sorry. but then it will be too late. think, while there is yet time. he has not committed a crime. you yourself told me he was a man of intelligence and daring--a gentleman; and surely, though he has been hasty, he has acted with a brave spirit through it all. see, he will promise you to go away quietly, to say nothing of all this, never to come into this country again without your permission. he will do this if i ask him, for he loves me. look at me, father. are you going to treat your little girl so--your virginia? you have never refused me anything before. and this is the greatest thing in all my life." she held his hand to her cheek and stroked it, murmuring little feminine, caressing phrases, secure in her power of witchery, which had never failed her before. the sound of her own voice reassured her, the quietude of the man she pleaded with. a lifetime of petting, of indulgence, threw its soothing influence over her perturbation, convincing her that somehow all this storm and stress must be phantasmagoric--a dream from which she was even now awakening into a clearer day of happiness. "for you love me, father," she concluded, and looked up daintily, with a pathetic, coquettish tilt of her fair head, to peer into his face. galen albret snarled like a wild beast, throwing aside the girl, as he did the chair in which he had been sitting. ned trent caught her, reeling, in his arms. for, as is often the case with passionate but strong temperaments, though the factor had attained a certain calm of control, the turmoil of his deeper anger had not been in the least stilled. over it a crust of determination had formed--the determination to make an end by the directest means in his autocratic power of this galling opposition. the girl's pleading, instead of appealing to him, had in reality but stirred his fury the more profoundly. it had added a new fuel element to the fire. heretofore his consciousness had felt merely the thwarting of his pride, his authority, his right to loyalty. now his daughter's entreaty brought home to him the bitter realization that he had been attained on another side--that of his family affection. this man had also killed for him his only child. for the child had renounced him, had thrust him outside herself into the lonely and ruined temple of his pride. at the first thought his face twisted with emotion, then hardened to cold malice. "love you!" he cried. "love you! an unnatural child! an ingrate! one who turns from me so lightly!" he laughed bitterly, eyeing her with chilling scrutiny. "you dare recall my love for you!" suddenly he stood upright, levelling a heavy, trembling arm at her. "you think an appeal to my love will save him! fool!" virginia's breath caught in her throat. she straightened, clutched the neckband of her gown. then her head fell slowly forward. she had fainted in her lover's arms. they stood exactly so for an appreciable interval, bewildered by the suddenness of this outcome; galen albret's hand out-stretched in denunciation; the girl like a broken lily, supported in the young man's arms; he searching her face passionately for a sign of life; me-en-gan, straight and sorrowful, again at the door. then the old man's arm dropped slowly. his gaze wavered. the lines of his face relaxed. twice he made an effort to turn away. all at once his stubborn spirit broke; he uttered a cry, and sprang forward to snatch the unconscious form hungrily into his bear clasp, searching the girl's face, muttering incoherent things. "quick!" he cried, aloud, the guttural sounds jostling one another in his throat. "get wishkobun, quick!" ned trent looked at him with steady scorn, his arms folded. "ah!" he dropped distinctly in deliberate monosyllables across the surcharged atmosphere of the scene. "so it seems you have found your heart, my friend!" galen albret glared wildly at him over the girl's fair head. "she is my daughter," he mumbled. _chapter seventeen_ they carried the unconscious girl into the dim-lighted apartment of the curtained windows, and laid her on the divan. wishkobun, hastily summoned, unfastened the girl's dress at the throat. "it is a faint," she announced in her own tongue. "she will recover in a few minutes; i will get some water." ned trent wiped the moisture from his forehead with his handkerchief. the danger he had undergone coolly, but this overcame his iron self-control. galen albret, like an anxious bear, weaved back and forth the length of the couch. in him the rumble of the storm was but just echoing into distance. "go into the next room," he growled at the free trader, when finally he noticed the latter's presence. ned trent hesitated. "go, i say!" snarled the factor. "you can do nothing here." he followed the young man to the door, which he closed with his own hand, and then turned back to the couch on which his daughter lay. in the middle of the floor his foot clicked on some small object. mechanically he picked it up. it proved to be a little silver match-safe of the sort universally used in the far north. evidently the free trader had flipped it from his pocket with his handkerchief. the factor was about to thrust it into his own pocket, when his eye caught lettering roughly carved across one side. still mechanically, he examined it more closely. the lettering was that of a man's name. the man's name was graehme stewart. without thinking of what he did, he dropped the object on the small table, and returned anxiously to the girl's side, cursing the tardiness of the indian woman. but in a moment wishkobun returned. "will she recover?" asked the factor, distracted at the woman's deliberate examination. the latter smiled her indulgent, slow smile. "but surely," she assured him in her own tongue, "it is no more than if she cut her finger. in a few breaths she will recover. now i will go to the house of the cockburn for a morsel of the sweet wood[a] which she must smell." she looked her inquiry for permission. [footnote a: camphor.] "sagaamig--go," assented albret. relieved in mind, he dropped into a chair. his eye caught the little silver match-safe. he picked it up and fell to staring at the rudely carved letters. he found that he was alone with his daughter--and the thoughts aroused by the dozen letters of a man's name. all his life long he had been a hard man. his commands had been autocratic; his anger formidable; his punishments severe, and sometimes cruel. the quality of mercy was with him tenuous and weak. he knew this, and if he did not exactly glory in it, he was at least indifferent to its effect on his reputation with others. but always he had been just. the victims of his displeasure might complain that his retributive measures were harsh, that his forgiveness could not be evoked by even the most extenuating of circumstances, but not that his anger had ever been baseless or the punishment undeserved. thus he had held always his own self-respect, and from his self-respect had proceeded his iron and effective rule. so in the case of the young man with whom now his thoughts were occupied. twice he had warned him from the country without the punishment which the third attempt rendered imperative. the events succeeding his arrival at conjuror's house warmed the factor's anger to the heat of almost preposterous retribution perhaps--for after all a man's life is worth something, even in the wilds--but it was actually retribution, and not merely a ruthless proof of power. it might be justice as only the factor saw it, but it was still essentially justice--in the broader sense that to each act had followed a definite consequence. although another might have condemned his conduct as unnecessarily harsh, galen albret's conscience was satisfied and at rest. nor had his resolution been permanently affected by either the girl's threat to make away with herself or by his momentary softening when she had fainted. the affair was thereby complicated, but that was all. in the sincerity of the threat he recognized his own iron nature, and was perhaps a little pleased at its manifestation. he knew she intended to fulfil her promise not to survive her lover, but at the moment this did not reach his fears; it only aroused further his dogged opposition. the free trader's speech as he left the room, however, had touched the one flaw in galen albret's confidence of righteousness. wearied with the struggles and the passions he had undergone, his brain numbed, his will for the moment in abeyance, he seated himself and contemplated the images those two words had called up. graehme stewart! that man he had first met at fort rae over twenty years ago. it was but just after he had married virginia's mother. at once his imagination, with the keen pictorial power of those who have dwelt long in the silent places, brought forward the other scene--that of his wooing. he had driven his dogs into fort la cloche after a hard day's run in seventy-five degrees of frost. weary, hungry, half-frozen, he had staggered into the fire-lit room. against the blaze he had caught for a moment a young girl's profile, lost as she turned her face toward him in startled question of his entrance. men had cared for his dogs. the girl had brought him hot tea. in the corner of the fire they two had whispered one to the other--the already grizzled traveller of the silent land, the fresh, brave north-maiden. at midnight, their parkas drawn close about their faces in the fearful cold, they had met outside the inclosure of the post. an hour later they were away under the aurora for qu'apelle. galen albret's nostrils expanded as he heard the _crack, crack, crack_ of the remorseless dog-whip whose sting drew him away from the vain pursuit. after the marriage at qu'apelle they had gone a weary journey to rae, and there he had first seen graehme stewart. fort rae is on the northwestward arm of the great slave lake in the country of the dog ribs, only four degrees under the arctic circle. it is a dreary spot, for the barren grounds are near. men see only the great lake, the great sky, the great gray country. they become moody, fanciful. in the face of the silence they have little to say. at fort rae were old jock wilson, the chief trader; father bonat, the priest; andrew levoy, the _mètis_ clerk; four dog rib teepees; galen albret and his bride; and graehme stewart. jock wilson was sixty-five; father bonat had no age; andrew levoy possessed the years of dour silence. only graehme stewart and elodie, bride of albret, were young. in the great gray country their lives were like spots of color on a mist. galen albret finally became jealous. at first there was nothing to be done; but finally levoy brought to the older man proof of the younger's guilt. the harsh traveller bowed his head and wept. but since he loved elodie more than himself which was perhaps the only redeeming feature of this sorry business--he said nothing, nor did more than to journey south to edmonton, leaving the younger man alone in fort rae to the white silence. but his soul was stirred. in the course of nature and of time galen albret had a daughter, but lost a wife. it was no longer necessary for him to leave his wrong unavenged. then began a series of baffling hindrances which resulted finally in his stooping to means repugnant to his open sense of what was due himself. at the first he could not travel to his enemy because of the child in his care; when finally he had succeeded in placing the little girl where he would be satisfied to leave her, he himself was suddenly and peremptorily called east to take a post in rupert's land. he could not disobey and remain in the company, and the company was more to him than life or revenge. the little girl he left in sacré coeur of quebec; he himself took up his residence in the hudson bay country. after a few years, becoming lonely for his own flesh and blood, he sent for his daughter. there, as factor, he gained a vast power; and this power he turned into the channels of his hatred. graehme stewart felt always against him the hand of influence. his posts in the company's service became intolerable. at length, in indignation against continued injustice, oppression, and insult, he resigned, broken in fortune and in prospects. he became one of the earliest free traders on the saskatchewan, devoting his energies to enraged opposition of the company which had wronged him. in the space of three short years he had met a violent and striking death; for the early days of the free trader were adventurous. galen albret's revenge had struck home. then in after years the factor had again met with andrew levoy. the man staggered into conjuror's house late at night. he had started from winnipeg to descend the albany river, but had met with mishap and starvation. one by one his dogs had died. in some blind fashion he pushed on for days after his strength and sanity had left him. mu-hi-kun had brought him in. his toes and fingers had frozen and dropped off; his face was a mask of black frost-bitten flesh, in which deep fissures opened to the raw. he had gone snow-blind. scarcely was he recognizable as a human being. from such a man in extremity could come nothing but the truth, so galen albret believed him. before andrew levoy died that night he told of his deceit. the factor left the room with the weight of a crime on his conscience. for graehme stewart had been innocent of any wrong toward him or his bride. such was the story galen albret saw in the little silver match-box. that was the one flaw in his consciousness of righteousness; the one instance in a long career when his ruthless acts of punishment or reprisal had not rested on rigid justice, and by the irony of fate the one instance had touched him very near. now here before him was his enemy's son--he wondered that he had not discovered the resemblance before--and he was about to visit on him the severest punishment in his power. was not this an opportunity vouchsafed him to repair his ancient fault, to cleanse his conscience of the one sin of the kind it would acknowledge? but then over him swept the same blur of jealousy that had resulted in graehme stewart's undoing. this youth wooed his daughter; he had won her affections away. strangely enough galen albret confused the new and the old; again youth cleaved to youth, leaving age apart. age felt fiercely the desire to maintain its own. the factor crushed the silver match-box between his great palms and looked up. his daughter lay before him, still, lifeless. deliberately he rested his chin on his hands and contemplated her. the room, as always, was full of contrast; shafts of light, dust-moted, bewildering, crossed from the embrasured windows, throwing high-lights into prominence and shadows into impenetrable darkness. they rendered the gray-clad figure of the girl vague and ethereal, like a mist above a stream; they darkened the dull-hued couch on which she rested into a liquid, impalpable black; they hazed the draped background of the corner into a far-reaching distance; so that finally to galen albret, staring with hypnotic intensity, it came to seem that he looked upon a pure and disembodied spirit sleeping sweetly--cradled on illimitable space. the ordinary and familiar surroundings all disappeared. his consciousness accepted nothing but the cameo profile of marble white, the nimbus of golden haze about the head, the mist-like suggestion of a body, and again the clear marble spot of the hands. all else was a background of modulated depths. so gradually the old man's spirit, wearied by the stress of the last hour, turned in on itself and began to create. the cameo profile, the mist-like body, the marble hands remained; but now galen albret saw other things as well. a dim, rare perfume was wafted from some unseen space; indistinct flashes of light spotted the darknesses; faint swells of music lifted the silence intermittently. these things were small and still, and under the external consciousness--like the voices one may hear beneath the roar of a tumbling rapid--but gradually they defined themselves. the perfume came to galen albret's nostrils on the wings of incensed smoke; the flashes of light steadied to the ovals of candle flames; the faint swells of music blended into grand-breathed organ chords. he felt about him the dim awe of the church, he saw the tapers burning at head and foot, the clear, calm face of the dead, smiling faintly that at last it should be no more disturbed. so had he looked all one night and all one day in the long time ago. the factor stretched his arms out to the figure on the couch, but he called upon his wife, gone these twenty years. "elodie! elodie!" he murmured, softly. she had never known it, thank god, but he had wronged her too. in all sorrow and sweet heavenly pity he had believed that her youth had turned to the youth of the other man. it had not been so. did he not owe her, too, some reparation? as though in answer to his appeal, or perhaps that merely the sound of a human voice had broken the last shreds of her swoon, the girl moved slightly. galen albret did not stir. slowly virginia turned her head, until finally her wandering eyes met his, fixed on her with passionate intensity. for a moment she stared at him, then comprehension came to her along with memory. she cried out, and sat upright in one violent motion. "he! he!" she cried. "is he gone?" instantly galen albret had her in his arms. "it is all right," he soothed, drawing her close to his great breast. "all right. you are my own little girl." _chapter eighteen_ for perhaps ten minutes ned trent lingered near the door of the council room until he had assured himself that virginia was in no serious danger. then he began to pace the room, examining minutely the various objects that ornamented it. he paused longest at the full-length portrait of sir george simpson, the company's great traveller, with his mild blue eyes, his kindly face, denying the potency of his official frown, his snowy hair and whiskers. the painted man and the real man looked at each other inquiringly. the latter shook his head. "you travelled the wild country far," said he, thoughtfully. "you knew many men of many lands. and wherever you went they tell me you made friends. and yet, as you embodied this company to all these people, and so made for the fanatical loyalty that is destroying me, i suppose you and i are enemies!" he shrugged his shoulders whimsically and turned away. thence he cast a fleeting glance out the window at the long reach of the moose and the blue bay gleaming in the distance. he tried the outside door. it was locked. taken with a new idea he proceeded at once to the third door of the apartment. it opened. he found himself in a small and much-littered room containing a desk, two chairs, a vast quantity of papers, a stuffed bird or so, and a row of account-books. evidently the factor's private office. ned trent returned to the main room and listened intently for several minutes. after that he ran back to the office and began hastily to open and rummage, one after another, the drawers of the desk. he discovered and concealed several bits of string, a desk-knife, and a box of matches. then he uttered a guarded exclamation of delight. he had found a small revolver, and with it part of a box of cartridges. "a chance!" he exulted: "a chance!" the game would be desperate. he would be forced first of all to seek out and kill the men detailed to shadow him--a toy revolver against rifles; white man against trained savages. and after that he would have, with the cartridges remaining, to assure his subsistence. still it was a chance. he closed the drawers and the door, and resumed his seat in the arm-chair by the council table. for over an hour thereafter he awaited the next move in the game. he was already swinging up the pendulum arc. the case did not appear utterly hopeless. he resolved, through me-en-gan, whom he divined as a friend of the girl's, to smuggle a message to virginia bidding her hope. already his imagination had conducted him to quebec, when in august he would search her out and make her his own. soon one of the indian servants entered the room for the purpose of conducting him to a smaller apartment, where he was left alone for some time longer. food was brought him. he ate heartily, for he considered that wise. then at last the summons for which he had been so long in readiness. me-en-gan himself entered the room, and motioned him to follow. [illustration: "do so now!" scene from the play.] ned trent had already prepared his message on the back of an envelope, writing it with the lead of a cartridge. he now pressed the bit of paper into the indian's palm. "for o-mi-mi," he explained. me-en-gan bored him through with his bead-like eyes of the surface lights. "nin nissitotam," he agreed after a moment. he led the way. ned trent followed through the narrow, uncarpeted hall with the faded photograph of westminster, down the crooked steep stairs with the creaking degrees, and finally into the council room once more, with its heavy rafters, its two fireplaces, its long table, and its narrow windows. "beka--wait!" commanded me-en-gan, and left him. ned trent had supposed he was being conducted to the canoe which should bear him on the first stage of his long journey, but now he seemed condemned again to take up the wearing uncertainty of inaction. the interval was not long, however. almost immediately the other door opened and the factor entered. his movements were abrupt and impatient, for with whatever grace such a man yields to his better instincts the actual carrying out of their conditions is a severe trial. for one thing it is a species of emotional nakedness, invariably repugnant to the self-contained. ned trent, observing this and misinterpreting its cause, hugged the little revolver to his side with grim satisfaction. the interview was likely to be stormy. if worst came to worst, he was at least assured of reprisal before his own end. the factor walked directly to the head of the table and his customary arm-chair, in which he disposed himself. "sit down," he commanded the younger man, indicating a chair at his elbow. the latter warily obeyed. galen albret hesitated appreciably. then, as one would make a plunge into cold water, quickly, in one motion, he laid on the table something over which he held his hand. "you are wondering why i am interviewing you again," said he. "it is because i have become aware of certain things. when you left me a few hours ago you dropped this." he moved his hand to one side. the silver match-safe lay on the table. "yes, it is mine," agreed ned trent. "on one side is carved a name." "yes." "whose?" the free trader hesitated. "my father's," he said, at last. "i thought that must be so. you will understand when i tell you that at one time i knew him very well." "you knew my father?" cried ned trent, excitedly. "yes. at fort rae, and elsewhere. but i do not remember you." "i was brought up at winnipeg," the other explained. "once," pursued galen albret, "i did your father a wrong, unintentionally, but nevertheless a great wrong. for that reason and others i am going to give you your life." "what wrong?" demanded ned trent, with dawning excitement. "i forced him from the company." "you!" "yes, i. proof was brought me that he had won from me my young wife. it could not be doubted. i could not kill him. afterward the man who deceived me confessed. he is now dead." ned trent, gasping, rose slowly to his feet. one hand stole inside his jacket and clutched the butt of the little pistol. "you did that," he cried, hoarsely. "you tell me of it yourself? do you wish to know the real reason for my coming into this country, why i have traded in defiance of the company throughout the whole far north? i have thought my father was persecuted by a body of men, and though i could not do much, still i have accomplished what i could to avenge him. had i known that a single man had done this--and you are that man!" he came a step nearer. galen albret regarded him steadily. "if i had known this before, i should never have rested until i had hunted you down, until i had killed you, even in the midst of your own people!" cried the free trader at last. galen albret drew his heavy revolver and laid it on the table. "do so now," he said, quietly. a pause fell on them, pregnant with possibility. the free trader dropped his head. "no," he groaned. "no, i cannot. she stands in the way!" "so that, after all," concluded the factor, in a gentler tone than he had yet employed, "we two shall part peaceably. i have wronged you greatly, though without intention. perhaps one balances the other. we will let it pass." "yes," agreed ned trent with an effort, "we will let it pass." they mused in silence, while the factor drummed on the table with the stubby fingers of his right hand. "i am dispatching to-day," he announced curtly at length, "the abítibi _brigade_. matters of importance brought by runner from rupert's house force me to do so a month earlier than i had expected. i shall send you out with that _brigade_." "very well." "you will find your packs and arms in the canoe, quite intact." "thank you." the factor examined the young man's face with some deliberation. "you love my daughter truly?" he asked, quietly. "yes," replied ned trent, also quietly. "that is well, for she loves you. and," went on the old man, throwing his massive head back proudly, "my people love well! i won her mother in a day, and nothing could stay us. god be thanked, you are a man and brave and clean. enough of that! i place the _brigade_ under your command! you must be responsible for it, for i am sending no other white--the crew are indians and _mètis_." "all right," agreed ned trent, indifferently. "my daughter you will take to sacré coeur at quebec." "virginia!" cried the young man. "i am sending her to quebec. i had not intended doing so until july, but the matters from rupert's house make it imperative now." "virginia goes with me?" "yes." "you consent? you--" "young man," said galen albret, not unkindly, "i give my daughter in your charge; that is all. you must take her to sacré coeur. and you must be patient. next year i shall resign, for i am getting old, and then we shall see. that is all i can tell you now." he arose abruptly. "come," said he, "they are waiting." they threw wide the door and stepped out into the open. a breeze from the north brought a draught of air like cold water in its refreshment. the waters of the north sparkled and tossed in the silvery sun. ned trent threw his arms wide in the physical delight of a new freedom. but his companion was already descending the steps. he followed across the square grass plot to the two bronze guns. a noise of peoples came down the breeze. in a moment he saw them--the varied multitude of the post--gathered to speed the _brigade_ on its distant journey. the little beach was crowded with the company's people and with indians, talking eagerly, moving hither and yon in a shifting kaleidoscope of brilliant color. beyond the shore floated the long canoe, with its curving ends and its emblazonment of the five-pointed stars. already its baggage was aboard, its crew in place, ten men in whose caps slanted long, graceful feathers, which proved them boatmen of a factor. the women sat amidships. when galen albret reached the edge of the plateau he stopped, and laid his hand on the young man's arm. as yet they were unperceived. then a single man caught sight of them. he spoke to another; the two informed still others. in an instant the bright colors were dotted with upturned faces. "listen," said galen albret, in his resonant chest-tones of authority. "this is my son, and he must be obeyed. i give to him the command of this _brigade_. see to it." without troubling himself further as to the crowd below, galen albret turned to his companion. "i will say good-by," said he, formally. "good-by," replied ned trent. "all is at peace between us?" the free trader looked long into the man's sad eyes. the hard, proud spirit, bowed in knightly expiation of its one fault, for the first time in a long life of command looked out in petition. "all is at peace," repeated ned trent. they clasped hands. and virginia, perceiving them so, threw them a wonderful smile. _chapter nineteen_ instantly the spell of inaction broke. the crowd recommenced its babel of jests, advices, and farewells. ned trent swung down the bank to the shore. the boatmen fixed the canoe on the very edge of floating free. two of them lifted the young man aboard to a place on the furs by virginia albret's side. at once the crowd pressed forward, filling up the empty spaces. now achille picard bent his shoulders to lift into free water the stem of the canoe from its touch on the bank. it floated, caught gently by the back wash of the stronger off-shore current. "good-by, dear," called mrs. cockburn. "remember us!" she pressed the doctor's arm closer to her side. the doctor waved his hand, not trusting his masculine self-control to speak. mcdonald, too, stood glum and dour, clasping his wrist behind his back. richardson was openly affected. for in virginia's person they saw sailing away from their bleak northern lives the figure of youth, and they knew that henceforth life must be even drearier. "som' tam' yo' com' back sing heem de res' of dat song!" shouted louis placide to his late captive. "i lak' hear heem!" but galen albret said nothing, made no sign. silently and steadily, run up by some invisible hand, the blood-red banner of the company fluttered to the mast-head. before it, alone, bulked huge against the sky, dominating the people in the symbolism of his position there as he did in the realities of every-day life, the factor stood, his hands behind his back. virginia rose to her feet and stretched her arms out to the solitary figure. "good-by! good-by!" she cried. a renewed tempest of cheers and shouts of adieu broke from those ashore. the paddles dipped once, twice, thrice, and paused. with one accord those on shore and those in the canoe raised their caps and said, "que dieu vous benisse." a moment's silence followed, during which the current of the mighty river bore the light craft a few yards down stream. then from the ten _voyageurs_ arose a great shout. "abítibi! abítibi!" their paddles struck in unison. the water swirled in white, circular eddies. instantly the canoe caught its momentum and began to slip along against the sluggish current. achille picard raised a high tenor voice, fixing the air, "_en roulant ma boule roulante, en roulant ma boule_." and the _voyageurs_ swung into the quaint ballad of the fairy ducks and the naughty prince with his magic gun. _"derrièr' chez-nous y-a-t-un 'ètang, en roulant ma boule."_ the girl sank back, dabbing uncertainly at her eyes. "i shall never see them again," she explained, wistfully. the canoe had now caught its speed. conjuror's house was dropping astern. the rhythm of the song quickened as the singers told of how the king's son had aimed at the black duck but killed the white. _"ah fils du roi, tu es mèchant, en roulant ma boule, toutes les plumes s'en vont au vent, rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."_ "way wik! way wik!" commanded me-en-gan, sharply, from the bow. the men quickened their stroke and shot diagonally across the current of an eddy. "ni-shi-shin," said me-en-gan. they fell back to the old stroke, rolling out their full-throated measure. _"toutes les plumes s'en vont au vent, en roulant ma boule, trois dames s'en vont les ramassant, rouli roulant, ma boule roulant."_ the canoe was now in the smooth rush of the first stretch of swifter water. the men bent to their work with stiffened elbows. achille picard flashed his white teeth back at the passengers, "ah, mademoiselle, eet is wan long way," he panted. "c'est une longue traverse!" the term was evidently descriptive, but the two smiled significantly at each other. "so you do take _la longue traverse_, after all!" marvelled virginia. ned trent clasped her hand. "we take it together," he replied. into the distance faded the post. the canoe rounded a bend. it was gone. ahead of them lay their long journey. the end books on nature study by charles g. d. roberts handsomely bound in cloth. price, 75 cents per volume, postpaid. the kindred of the wild. a book of animal life. with illustrations by charles livingston bull. appeals alike to the young and to the merely youthful-hearted. close observation. graphic description. we get a sense of the great wild and its denizens. out of the common. vigorous and full of character. the book is one to be enjoyed; all the more because it smacks of the forest instead of the museum. john burroughs says: "the volume is in many ways the most brilliant collection of animal stories that has appeared. it reaches a high order of literary merit." the heart of the ancient wood. illustrated. this book strikes a new note in literature. it is a realistic romance of the folk of the forest--a romance of the alliance of peace between a pioneer's daughter in the depths of the ancient wood and the wild beasts who felt her spell and became her friends. it is not fanciful, with talking beasts; nor is it merely an exquisite idyl of the beasts themselves. it is an actual romance, in which the animal characters play their parts as naturally as do the human. the atmosphere of the book is enchanting. the reader feels the undulating, whimpering music of the forest, the power of the shady silences, the dignity of the beasts who live closest to the heart of the wood. the watchers of the trails. a companion volume to the "kindred of the wild." with 48 full page plates and decorations from drawings by charles livingston bull. these stories are exquisite in their refinement, and yet robust in their appreciation of some of the rougher phases of woodcraft. 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"true in substance but fascinating as fiction. it will interest old and young, city-bound and free-footed, those who know animals and those who do not."--_chicago record-herald_. famous copyright books in popular priced editions re-issues of the great literary successes of the time, library size, printed on excellent paper--most of them finely illustrated. full and handsomely bound in cloth. price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. nedra, by george barr mccutcheon, with color frontispiece, and other illustrations by harrison fisher. the story of an elopement of a young couple from chicago, who decide to go to london, travelling as brother and sister. their difficulties commence in new york and become greatly exaggerated when they are shipwrecked in mid-ocean. the hero finds himself stranded on the island of nedra with another girl, whom he has rescued by mistake. the story gives an account of their finding some of the other passengers, and the circumstances which resulted from the strange mix-up. power lot, by sarah p. mclean greene. illustrated. the story of the reformation of a man and his restoration to self-respect through the power of honest labor, the exercise of honest independence, and the aid of clean, healthy, out-of-door life and surroundings. the characters take hold of the heart and win sympathy. the dear old story has never been more lovingly and artistically told. my mamie rose. the history of my regeneration, by owen kildare. illustrated. this _autobiography_ is a powerful book of love and sociology. reads like the strangest fiction. is the strongest truth and deals with the story of a man's redemption through a woman's love and devotion. john burt, by frederick upham adams, with illustrations. john burt, a new england lad, goes west to seek his fortune and finds it in gold mining. he becomes one of the financial factors and pitilessly crushes his enemies. the story of the stock exchange manipulations was never more vividly and engrossingly told. a love story runs through the book, and is handled with infinite skill. the heart line, by gelett burgess, with halftone illustrations by lester ralph, and inlay cover in colors. a great dramatic story of the city that was. a story of bohemian life in san francisco, before the disaster, presented with mirror-like accuracy. compressed into it are all the sparkle, all the gayety, all the wild, whirling life of the glad, mad, bad, and most delightful city of the golden gate. carolina lee. by lillian bell. with frontispiece by dora wheeler keith. carolina lee is the uncle tom's cabin of christian science. its keynote is "divine love" in the understanding of the knowledge of all good things which may be obtainable. when the tale is told, the sick healed, wrong changed to right, poverty of purse and spirit turned into riches, lovers made worthy of each other and happily united, including carolina lee and her affinity, it is borne upon the reader that he has been giving rapid attention to a free lecture on christian science; 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"a picture of the new west, at once startlingly and attractively true. * * * the heroine is a strange, sweet mixture of pride, wilfulness and lovable courage. the characters are superbly drawn; the atmosphere is convincing. there is about it a sweetness, a wholesomeness and a sturdiness that commends it to earnest, kindly and wholesome people."--_boston transcript_. brilliant and spirited novels agnes and egerton castle handsomely bound in cloth. price, 75 cents per volume, postpaid. the pride of jennico. being a memoir of captain basil jennico. "what separates it from most books of its class is its distinction of manner, its unusual grace of diction, its delicacy of touch, and the fervent charm of its love passages. it is a very attractive piece of romantic fiction relying for its effect upon character rather than incident, and upon vivid dramatic presentation."--_the dial_. "a stirring, brilliant and dashing story."--_the outlook_. the secret orchard. illustrated by charles d. williams. the "secret orchard" is set in the midst of the ultra modern society. the scene is in paris, but most of the characters are english speaking. the story was dramatized in london, and in it the kendalls scored a great theatrical success. "artfully contrived and full of romantic charm * * * it possesses ingenuity of incident, a figurative designation of the unhallowed scenes in which unlicensed love accomplishes and wrecks faith and happiness."--_athenaeum_. young april. with illustrations by a. b. wenzell. "it is everything that a good romance should be, and it carries about it an air or distinction both rare and delightful."--_chicago tribune_. "with regret one turns to the last page of this delightful novel, so delicate in its romance, so brilliant in its episodes, so sparkling in its art, and so exquisite in its diction."--_worcester spy_. flower o' the orange. with frontispiece. we have learned to expect from these fertile authors novels graceful in form, brisk in movement, and romantic in conception. this carries the reader back to the days of the bewigged and beruffled gallants of the seventeenth century and tells him of feats of arms and adventures in love as thrilling and picturesque, yet delicate, as the utmost seeker of romance may ask. my merry rockhurst. illustrated by arthur e. becher. "in the eight stories of a courtier of king charles second, which are here gathered together, the castles are at their best, reviving all the fragrant charm of those books, like _the pride of jennico_, in which they first showed an instinct, amounting to genius, for sunny romances. the book is absorbing * * * and is as spontaneous in feeling as it is artistic in execution."--_new york tribune_. famous copyright books in popular priced editions re-issues of the great literary successes of the time, library size, printed on excellent paper--most of them finely illustrated. full and handsomely bound in cloth. price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. the cattle baron's daughter. a novel. by harold bindloss. with illustrations by david ericson. a story of the fight for the cattle-ranges of the west. intense interest is aroused by its pictures of life in the cattle country at that critical moment of transition when the great tracts of land used for grazing were taken up by the incoming homesteaders, with the inevitable result of fierce contest, of passionate emotion on both sides, and of final triumph of the inevitable tendency of the times. winston of the prairie. with illustrations in color by w. herbert dunton. a man of upright character, young and clean, but badly worsted in the battle of life, consents as a desperate resort to impersonate for a period a man of his own age--scoundrelly in character but of an aristocratic and moneyed family. the better man finds himself barred from resuming his old name. how, coming into the other man's possessions, he wins the respect of all men, and the love of a fastidious, delicately nurtured girl, is the thread upon which the story hangs. it is one of the best novels of the west that has appeared for years. that mainwaring affair. by a. maynard barbour. with illustrations by e. plaisted abbott. a novel with a most intricate and carefully unraveled plot. a naturally probable and excellently developed story and the reader will follow the fortunes of each character with unabating interest * * * the interest is keen at the close of the first chapter and increases to the end. at the time appointed. with a frontispiece in colors by j. h. marchand. the fortunes of a young mining engineer who through an accident loses his memory and identity. in his new character and under his new name, the hero lives a new life of struggle and adventure. the volume will be found highly entertaining by those who appreciate a thoroughly good story. grosset & dunlap, publishers, new york [transcriber's note: the following spelling inconsistencies and possible typographical errors were left uncorrected: stolidily missináibe/missináibie queek/queeck mêchant/mèchant bouyant comma at end of paragraph: picard flashed his white teeth back at the passengers,] memorial library. the arctic prairies a canoe-journey of 2,000 miles in search of the caribou being the account of a voyage to the region north of aylmer lake by ernest thompson seton author of "wild animals i have known", "life histories", etc. dedicated to the right honourable sir wilfrid laurier, g. c. m. g. premier of canada preface what young man of our race would not gladly give a year of his life to roll backward the scroll of time for five decades and live that year in the romantic bygone-days of the wild west; to see the great missouri while the buffalo pastured on its banks, while big game teemed in sight and the red man roamed and hunted, unchecked by fence or hint of white man's rule; or, when that rule was represented only by scattered trading-posts, hundreds of miles apart, and at best the traders could exchange the news by horse or canoe and months of lonely travel? i for one, would have rejoiced in tenfold payment for the privilege of this backward look in our age, and had reached the middle life before i realised that, at a much less heavy cost, the miracle was possible today. for the uncivilised indian still roams the far reaches of absolutely unchanged, unbroken forest and prairie leagues, and has knowledge of white men only in bartering furs at the scattered trading-posts, where locomotive and telegraph are unknown; still the wild buffalo elude the hunters, fight the wolves, wallow, wander, and breed; and still there is hoofed game by the million to be found where the saxon is as seldom seen as on the missouri in the times of lewis and clarke. only we must seek it all, not in the west, but in the far north-west; and for "missouri and mississippi" read "peace and mackenzie rivers," those noble streams that northward roll their mile-wide turbid floods a thousand leagues to the silent arctic sea. this was the thought which spurred me to a six months' journey by canoe. and i found what i went in search of, but found, also, abundant and better rewards that were not in mind, even as saul, the son of kish, went seeking asses and found for himself a crown and a great kingdom. four years have gone by since i lived through these experiences. such a lapse of time may have made my news grow stale, but it has also given the opportunity for the working up of specimens and scientific records. the results, for the most part, will be found in the appendices, and three of these, as indicated--namely, the sections on plants, mammals, and birds--are the joint work of my assistant, mr. edward a. preble, and myself. my thanks are due here to the right honourable lord strathcona, g. c. m. g., governor of the hudson's bay company, for giving me access to the records of the company whenever i needed them for historical purposes; to the honourable frank oliver, minister of the interior, canada, for the necessary papers and permits to facilitate scientific collection, and also to clarence c. chipman, esq., of winnipeg, the hudson's bay company's commissioner, for practical help in preparing my outfit, and for letters of introduction to the many officers of the company, whose kind help was so often a godsend. ernest thompson seton. chapter i departure for the north in 1907 i set out to journey by canoe down the athabaska and adjoining waters to the sole remaining forest wilds--the far north-west of canada--and the yet more desert arctic plains, where still, it was said, were to be seen the caribou in their primitive condition. my only companion was edward a. preble, of washington, d. c., a trained naturalist,--an expert canoeist and traveller, and a man of three seasons' experience in the hudson's bay territory and the mackenzie valley. while my chief object was to see the caribou, and prove their continued abundance, i was prepared incidentally to gather natural-history material of all kinds, and to complete the shore line of the ambiguous lake called "aylmer," as well as explore its sister, the better-known clinton-colden. i went for my own pleasure at my own expense, and yet i could not persuade my hudson's bay company friends that i was not sent by some government, museum or society for some secret purpose. on the night of may 5 we left winnipeg, and our observations began with the day at brandon. from that point westward to regina we saw abundant evidence that last year had been a "rabbit year," that is, a year in which the ever-fluctuating population of northern hares (snowshoe-rabbits or white-rabbits) had reached its maximum, for nine-tenths of the bushes in sight from the train had been barked at the snow level. but the fact that we saw not one rabbit shows that "the plague" had appeared, had run its usual drastic course, and nearly exterminated the species in this particular region. early next morning at kininvie (40 miles west of medicine hat, alberta) we saw a band of 4 antelope south of the track; later we saw others all along as far as gleichen. all were south of the track. the bands contained as follows: 4, 14, 18, 8, 12, 8, 4, 1, 4, 5, 4, 6, 4, 18, 2, 6, 34, 6, 3, 1, 10, 25, 16, 3, 7, 9 (almost never 2, probably because this species does not pair), or 232 antelope in 26 bands along 70 miles of track; but all were on the south side; not one was noted on the north. the case is simple. during the past winter, while the antelope were gone southward, the canadian pacific railway company had fenced its track. in spring the migrants, returning, found themselves cut off from their summer feeding-grounds by those impassable barb-wires, and so were gathered against the barrier. one band of 8, at a stopping place, ran off when they saw passengers alighting, but at half a mile they turned, and again came up against the fence, showing how strong is the northward impulse. unless they learn some way of mastering the difficulty, it means extermination for the antelope of the north saskatchewan. from calgary we went by train to edmonton. this is the point of leaving the railway, the beginning of hard travel, and here we waited a few days to gather together our various shipments of food and equipment, and to await notice that the river was open. in the north the grand event of the year is the opening of the rivers. the day when the ice goes out is the official first day of spring, the beginning of the season; and is eagerly looked for, as every day's delay means serious loss to the traders, whose men are idle, but drawing pay as though at work. on may 11, having learned that the athabaska was open, we left edmonton in a livery rig, and drove 94 miles northward though a most promising, half-settled country, and late the next day arrived at athabaska landing, on the great east tributary of the mackenzie, whose waters were to bear us onward for so many weeks. athabaska landing is a typical frontier town. these are hard words, but justified. we put up at the principal hotel; the other lodgers told me it was considered the worst hotel in the world. i thought i knew of two worse, but next morning accepted the prevailing view. our canoe and provisions arrived, but the great convoy of scows that were to take the annual supplies of trade stuff for the far north was not ready, and we needed the help and guidance of its men, so must needs wait for four days. this gave us the opportunity to study the local natural history and do a little collecting, the results of which appear later. the great size of the timber here impressed me. i measured a typical black poplar (p. balsamifera), 100 feet to the top, 8 feet 2 inches in circumference, at 18 inches from the ground, and i saw many thicker, but none taller. at the hotel, also awaiting the scows, was a body of four (dis-)mounted police, bound like ourselves for the far north. the officer in charge turned out to be an old friend from toronto, major a. m. jarvis. i also met john schott, the gigantic half-breed, who went to the barren grounds with caspar whitney in 1895. he seemed to have great respect for whitney as a tramper, and talked much of the trip, evidently having forgotten his own shortcomings of the time. while i sketched his portrait, he regaled me with memories of his early days on red river, where he was born in 1841. 1 did not fail to make what notes i could of those now historic times. his accounts of the antelope on white horse plain, in 1855, and buffalo about the site of carberry, manitoba, in 1852, were new and valuable light on the ancient ranges of these passing creatures. all travellers who had preceded me into the barren grounds had relied on the abundant game, and in consequence suffered dreadful hardships; in some cases even starved to death. i proposed to rely on no game, but to take plenty of groceries, the best i could buy in winnipeg, which means the best in the world; and, as will be seen later, the game, because i was not relying on it, walked into camp every day. but one canoe could not carry all these provisions, so most of it i shipped on the hudson's bay company scows, taking with us, in the canoe, food for not more than a week, which with camp outfit was just enough for ballast. of course i was in close touch with the hudson's bay people. although nominally that great trading company parted with its autocratic power and exclusive franchise in 1870, it is still the sovereign of the north. and here let me correct an error that is sometimes found even in respectable print--the company has at all times been ready to assist scientists to the utmost of its very ample power. although jealous of its trading rights, every one is free to enter the territory without taking count of the company, but there has not yet been a successful scientific expedition into the region without its active co-operation. the hudson's bay company has always been the guardian angel of the north. i suppose that there never yet was another purely commercial concern that so fully realized the moral obligations of its great power, or that has so uniformly done its best for the people it ruled. at all times it has stood for peace, and one hears over and over again that such and such tribes were deadly enemies, but the company insisted on their smoking the peace pipe. the sioux and ojibway, black-foot and assiniboine., dog-rib and copper-knife, beaver and chipewyan, all offer historic illustrations in point, and many others could be found for the list. the name peace river itself is the monument of a successful effort on the part of the company to bring about a better understanding between the crees and the beavers. besides human foes, the company has saved the indian from famine and plague. many a hunger-stricken tribe owes its continued existence to the fatherly care of the company, not simply general and indiscriminate, but minute and personal, carried into the details of their lives. for instance, when bots so pestered the caribou of one region as to render their hides useless to the natives, the company brought in hides from a district where they still were good. the chipewyans were each spring the victims of snow-blindness until the company brought and succeeded in popularizing their present ugly but effectual and universal peaked hats. when their train-dogs were running down in physique, the company brought in a strain of pure huskies or eskimo. when the albany river indians were starving and unable to hunt, the company gave the order for 5,000 lodge poles. then, not knowing how else to turn them to account, commissioned the indians to work them into a picket garden-fence. at all times the native found a father in the company, and it was the worst thing that ever happened the region when the irresponsible free-traders with their demoralizing methods were allowed to enter and traffic where or how they pleased. chapter ii down the noisy river with the voyageurs at athabaska landing, on may 18, 1907, 10.15 a. m., we boarded the superb peterborough canoe that i had christened the ann seton. the athabaska river was a-flood and clear of ice; 13 scows of freight, with 60 half-breeds and indians to man them, left at the same time, and in spite of a strong headwind we drifted northward fully 31 miles an hour. the leading scow, where i spent some time, was in charge of john macdonald himself, and his passengers comprised the hudson's bay company officials, going to their posts or on tours of inspection. they were a jolly crowd, like a lot of rollicking schoolboys, full of fun and good-humour, chaffing and joking all day; but when a question of business came up, the serious businessman appeared in each, and the company's interest was cared for with their best powers. the bottle was not entirely absent in these scow fraternities, but i saw no one the worse for liquor on the trip. the men of mixed blood jabbered in french, cree, and chipewyan chiefly, but when they wanted to swear, they felt the inadequacy of these mellifluous or lisping tongues, and fell back on virile saxon, whose tang, projectivity, and wealth of vile epithet evidently supplied a long-felt want in the great lone land of the dog and canoe. in the afternoon preble and i pushed on in our boat, far in advance of the brigade. as we made early supper i received for the twentieth time a lesson in photography. a cock partridge or ruffed grouse came and drummed on a log in open view, full sunlight, fifty feet away. i went quietly to the place. he walked off, but little alarmed. i set the camera eight feet from the log, with twenty-five feet of tubing, and retired to a good hiding-place. but alas! i put the tube on the left-hand pump, not knowing that that was a dummy. the grouse came back in three minutes, drumming in a superb pose squarely in front of the camera. i used the pump, but saw that it failed to operate; on going forward the grouse skimmed away and returned no more. preble said, "never mind; there will be another every hundred yards all the way down the river, later on." i could only reply, "the chance never comes but once," and so it proved. we heard grouse drumming many times afterward, but the sun was low, or the places densely shaded, or the mosquitoes made conditions impossible for silent watching; the perfect chance came but once, as it always does, and i lost it. about twenty miles below the landing we found the abandoned winter hut of a trapper; on the roof were the dried up bodies of 1 skunk, 2 foxes, and 30 lynxes, besides the bones of 2 moose, showing the nature of the wild life about. that night, as the river was brimming and safe, we tied up to the scows and drifted, making 30 more miles, or 60 since embarking. in the early morning, i was much struck by the lifelessness of the scene. the great river stretched away northward, the hills rose abruptly from the water's edge, everywhere extended the superb spruce forest, here fortunately unburnt; but there seemed no sign of living creature outside of our own numerous, noisy, and picturesque party. river, hills, and woods were calm and silent. it was impressive, if disappointing; and, when at last the fir stillness was broken by a succession of trumpet notes from the great pileated woodpecker, the sound went rolling on and on, in reverberating echoes that might well have alarmed the bird himself. the white spruce forest along the banks is most inspiring, magnificent here. down the terraced slopes and right to the water's edge on the alluvial soil it stands in ranks. each year, of course, the floods undercut the banks, and more trees fall, to become at last the flotsam of the shore a thousand miles away. there is something sad about these stately trees, densely packed, all a-row, unflinching, hopelessly awaiting the onset of the inexorable, invincible river. one group, somewhat isolated and formal, was a forest life parallel to lady butler's famous "roll call of the grenadiers." at night we reached the indian village of pelican portage, and landed by climbing over huge blocks of ice that were piled along the shore. the adult male inhabitants came down to our camp, so that the village was deserted, except for the children and a few women. as i walked down the crooked trail along which straggle the cabins, i saw something white in a tree at the far end. supposing it to be a white-rabbit in a snare, i went near and found, to my surprise, first that it was a dead house-cat, a rare species here; second, under it, eyeing it and me alternately, was a hungry-looking lynx. i had a camera, for it was near sundown, and in the woods, so i went back to the boat and returned with a gun. there was the lynx still prowling, but now farther from the village. i do not believe he would have harmed the children, but a lynx is game. i fired, and he fell without a quiver or a sound. this was the first time i had used a gun in many years, and was the only time on the trip. i felt rather guilty, but the carcass was a godsend to two old indians who were sickening on a long diet of salt pork, and that lynx furnished them tender meat for three days afterward; while its skin and skull went to the american museum. on the night of may 20, we camped just above grand rapids--preble and i alone, for the first time, under canvas, and glad indeed to get away from the noisy rabble of the boatmen, though now they were but a quarter mile off. at first i had found them amusing and picturesque, but their many unpleasant habits, their distinct aversion to strangers, their greediness to get all they could out of one, and do nothing in return, combined finally with their habit of gambling all night to the loud beating of a tin pan, made me thankful to quit their company for a time. at grand rapids the scows were unloaded, the goods shipped over a quarter-mile hand tramway, on an island, the scows taken down a side channel, one by one, and reloaded. this meant a delay of three or four days, during which we camped on the island and gathered specimens. being the organizer, equipper, geographer, artist, head, and tail of the expedition, i was, perforce, also its doctor. equipped with a "pill-kit," an abundance of blisters and bandages and some "potent purgatives," i had prepared myself to render first and last aid to the hurt in my own party. in taking instructions from our family physician, i had learned the value of a profound air of great gravity, a noble reticence, and a total absence of doubt, when i did speak. i compressed his creed into a single phrase: "in case of doubt, look wise and work on his 'bowels.'" this simple equipment soon gave me a surprisingly high standing among the men. i was a medicine man of repute, and soon had a larger practice than i desired, as it was entirely gratuitous. the various boatmen, indians and half-breeds, came with their troubles, and, thanks chiefly to their faith, were cured. but one day john macdonald, the chief pilot and a mighty man on the river, came to my tent on grand island. john complained that he couldn't hold anything on his stomach; he was a total peristaltic wreck indeed (my words; his were more simple and more vivid, but less sonorous and professional). he said he had been going down hill for two weeks, and was so bad now that he was "no better than a couple of ordinary men." "exactly so," i said. "now you take these pills and you'll be all right in the morning." next morning john was back, and complained that my pills had no effect; he wanted to feel something take hold of him. hadn't 1 any pepper-juice or brandy? i do not take liquor on an expedition, but at the last moment a winnipeg friend had given me a pint flask of pure brandy--"for emergencies." an emergency had come. "john! you shall have some extra fine brandy, nicely thinned with pepper-juice." i poured half an inch of brandy into a tin cup, then added half an inch of "pain-killer." "here, take this, and if you don't feel it, it means your insides are dead, and you may as well order your coffin." john took it at a gulp. his insides were not dead; but i might have been, had i been one of his boatmen. he doubled up, rolled around, and danced for five minutes. he did not squeal--john never squeals--but he suffered some, and an hour later announced that he was about cured. next day he came to say he was all right, and would soon again be as good as half a dozen men. at this same camp in grand rapids another cure on a much larger scale was added to my list. an indian had "the bones of his foot broken," crushed by a heavy weight, and was badly crippled. he came leaning on a friend's shoulder. his foot was blackened and much swollen, but i soon satisfied myself that no bones were broken, because he could wriggle all the toes and move the foot in any direction. "you'll be better in three days and all right in a week," i said, with calm assurance. then i began with massage. it seemed necessary in the indian environment to hum some tune, and i found that the "koochy-koochy" lent itself best to the motion, so it became my medicine song. with many "koochy-koochy"-ings and much ice-cold water he was nearly cured in three days, and sound again in a week. but in the north folk have a habit (not known elsewhere) of improving the incident. very soon it was known all along the river that the indian's leg was broken, and i had set and healed it in three days. in a year or two, i doubt not, it will be his neck that was broken, not once, but in several places. grand island yielded a great many deermice of the arctic form, a few red-backed voles, and any number of small birds migrant. as we floated down the river the eye was continually held by tall and prominent spruce trees that had been cut into peculiar forms as below. these were known as "lob-sticks," or "lop-sticks," and are usually the monuments of some distinguished visitor in the country or records of some heroic achievement. thus, one would be pointed out as commissioner wrigley's lob-stick, another as john macdonald's the time he saved the scow. the inauguration of a lob-stick is quite a ceremony. some person in camp has impressed all with his importance or other claim to notice. the men, having talked it over, announce that they have decided on giving him a lob-stick. "will he make choice of some prominent tree in view?" the visitor usually selects one back from the water's edge, often on some far hilltop, the more prominent the better; then an active young fellow is sent up with an axe to trim the tree. the more embellishment the higher the honor. on the trunk they then inscribe the name of the stranger, and he is supposed to give each of the men a plug of tobacco and a drink of whiskey. thus they celebrate the man and his monument, and ever afterwards it is pointed out as "so-and-so's lob-stick." it was two months before my men judged that i was entitled to a lob-stick. we were then on great slave lake where the timber was small, but the best they could get on a small island was chosen and trimmed into a monument. they were disappointed however, to find that i would by no means give whiskey to natives, and my treat had to take a wholly different form. grand rapids, with its multiplicity of perfectly round pot-hole boulders, was passed in four days, and then, again in company with the boats, we entered the real canyon of the river. down athabaska's boiling flood of seething, leaping, coiling mud. chapter iii human nature on the river sunday morning, 26th of may, there was something like a strike among the sixty half-breeds and indians that composed the crews. they were strict sabbatarians (when it suited them); they believed that they should do no work, but give up the day to gambling and drinking. old john, the chief pilot, wished to take advantage of the fine flood on the changing river, and drift down at least to the head of the boiler rapids, twenty miles away, the breeds maintained, with many white swear words, for lack of strong talk in indian, that they never yet knew sunday work to end in anything but disaster, and they sullenly scattered among the trees, produced their cards, and proceeded to gamble away their property, next year's pay, clothes, families, anything, and otherwise show their respect for the lord's day and defiance of old john macdonald. john made no reply to their arguments; he merely boarded the cook's boat, and pushed off into the swift stream with the cooks and all the grub. in five minutes the strikers were on the twelve big boats doing their best to live up to orders. john said nothing, and grinned at me only with his eyes. the breeds took their defeat in good part after the first minute, and their commander rose higher in their respect. at noon we camped above the boiler rapids. in the evening i climbed the 400or 500-foot hill behind camp and sketched the canyon looking northward. the spring birds were now beginning to arrive, but were said to be a month late this year. the ground was everywhere marked with moose sign; prospects, were brightening. the mania for killing that is seen in many white men is evidently a relic of savagery, for all of these indians and half-breeds are full of it. each carries a rifle, and every living thing that appears on the banks or on the water is fusilladed with winchesters until it is dead or out of sight. this explains why we see so little from the scows. one should be at least a day ahead of them to meet with wild life on the river. this morning two bears appeared on the high bank--and there was the usual uproar and fusillading; so far as could be learned without any effect, except the expenditure of thirty or forty cartridges at five cents each. on the 27th we came to the cascade rapids. the first or little cascade has about two feet fall, the second or grand cascade, a mile farther, is about a six foot sheer drop. these are considered very difficult to run, and the manner of doing it changes with every change in season or water level. we therefore went through an important ceremony, always carried out in the same way. all 13 boats were beached, the 13 pilots went ahead on the bank to study the problem, they decided on the one safe place and manner, then returned, and each of the 13 boats was run over in 13 different places and manners. they always do this. you are supposed to have run the cascades successfully if you cross them alive, but to have failed if you drown.. in this case all were successful. below the cascades i had a sample of indian gratitude that set me thinking. my success with john macdonald and others had added the whole community to my medical practice, for those who were not sick thought they were. i cheerfully did my best for all, and was supposed to be persona grata. just below the cascade rapids was a famous sucker pool, and after we had camped three indians came, saying that the pool was full of suckers--would i lend them my canoe to get some? away they went, and from afar i was horrified to see them clubbing the fish with my beautiful thin-bladed maple paddles. they returned with a boat load of 3and 4-pound suckers (catostomus) and 2 paddles broken. each of their friends came and received one or two fine fish, for there were plenty. i, presumably part owner of the catch, since i owned the boat, selected one small one for myself, whereupon the indian insolently demanded 25 cents for it; and these were the men i had been freely doctoring for two weeks! not to speak of the loaned canoe and broken paddles! then did i say a few things to all and sundry--stinging, biting things, ungainsayable and forcible things--and took possession of all the fish that were left, so the indians slunk off in sullen silence. gratitude seems an unknown feeling among these folk; you may give presents and help and feed them all you like, the moment you want a slight favour of them they demand the uttermost cent. in attempting to analyse this i was confronted by the fact that among themselves they are kind and hospitable, and at length discovered that their attitude toward us is founded on the ideas that all white men are very rich, that the indian has made them so by allowing them to come into this country, that the indian is very poor because he never was properly compensated, and that therefore all he can get out of said white man is much less than the white man owes him. as we rounded a point one day a lynx appeared statuesque on a stranded cake of ice, a hundred yards off, and gazed at the approaching boats. true to their religion, the half-breeds seized their rifles, the bullets whistled harmlessly about the "peeshoo"--whereupon he turned and walked calmly up the slope, stopping to look at each fresh volley, but finally waved his stumpy tail and walked unharmed over the ridge. distance fifty yards. on may 28 we reached fort macmurray. here i saw several interesting persons: miss christine gordon, the postmaster; joe bird, a half-breed with all the advanced ideas of a progressive white man; and an american ex-patriot, g------, a tall, raw-boned yank from illinois. he was a typical american of the kind, that knows little of america and nothing of europe; but shrewd and successful in spite of these limitations. in appearance he was not unlike abraham lincoln. he was a rabid american, and why he stayed here was a question. he had had no detailed tidings from home for years, and i never saw a man more keen for the news. on the banks of the river we sat for an hour while he plied me with questions, which i answered so far as i could. he hung on my lips; he interrupted only when there seemed a halt in the stream; he revelled in, all the details of wrecks by rail and sea. roosevelt and the trusts--insurance scandals--the south the burnings in the west--massacres--murders--horrors--risings--these were his special gloats, and yet he kept me going with "yes--yes--and then?" or "yes, by golly--that's the way we're a-doing it. go on." then, after i had robbed new york of $100,000,000 a year, burnt 10 large towns and 45 small ones, wrecked 200 express trains, lynched 96 negroes in the south and murdered many men every night for 7 years in chicago--he broke out: "by golly, we are a-doing it. we are the people. we are a-moving things now; and i tell you i give the worst of them there european countries, the very worst of 'em, just 100 years to become americanised." think of that, ye polished frenchmen; ye refined, courteous swedes; ye civilised danes; you have 100 years to become truly americanised! all down the river route we came on relics of another class of wanderers--the klondikers of 1898. sometimes these were empty winter cabins; sometimes curious tools left at hudson's bay posts, and in some cases expensive provisions; in all cases we heard weird tales of their madness. there is, i am told, a shanty on the mackenzie above simpson, where four of them made a strange record. cooped up for months in tight winter quarters, they soon quarrelled, and at length their partnership was dissolved. each took the articles he had contributed, and those of common purchase they divided in four equal parts. the stove, the canoe, the lamp, the spade, were broken relentlessly and savagely into four parts--four piles of useless rubbish. the shanty was divided in four. one man had some candles of his own bringing. these he kept and carefully screened off his corner of the room so no chance rays might reach the others to comfort them; they spent the winter in darkness. none spoke to the other, and they parted, singly and silently, hatefully as ever, as soon as the springtime opened the way. chapter iv down the silent river with the mounted police at fort macmurray we learned that there was no telling when the steamer might arrive; major jarvis was under orders to proceed without delay to smith landing; so to solve all our difficulties i bought a 30-foot boat (sturgeon-head) of joe bird, and arranged to join forces with the police for the next part of the journey. i had made several unsuccessful attempts to get an experienced native boatman to go northward with me. all seemed to fear the intending plunge into the unknown; so was agreeably surprised when a sturdy young fellow of scottish and cree parentage came and volunteered for the trip. a few inquiries proved him to bear a good reputation as a river-man and worker, so william c. loutit was added to my expedition and served me faithfully throughout. in time i learned that billy was a famous traveller. some years ago, when the flood had severed all communication between athabaska landing and edmonton, billy volunteered to carry some important despatches, and covered the 96 miles on foot in one and a half days, although much of the road was under water. on another occasion he went alone and afoot from house river up the athabaska to calling river, and across the point to the athabaska again, then up to the landing-150 rough miles in four days. these exploits i had to find out for myself later on, but much more important to me at the time was the fact that he was a first-class cook, a steady, cheerful worker, and a capable guide as far as great slave lake. the athabaska below fort macmurray is a noble stream, one-third of a mile wide, deep, steady, unmarred; the banks are covered with unbroken virginal forests of tall white poplar, balsam poplar, spruce, and birch. the fire has done no damage here as yet, the axe has left no trace, there are no houses, no sign of man except occasional teepee poles. i could fancy myself floating down the ohio two hundred years ago. these were bright days to be remembered, as we drifted down its placid tide in our ample and comfortable boat, with abundance of good things. calm, lovely, spring weather; ducks all along the river; plenty of food, which is the northerner's idea of bliss; plenty of water, which is the river-man's notion of joy; plenty of leisure, which is an element in most men's heaven, for we had merely to float with the stream, three miles an hour, except when we landed to eat or sleep. the woods were donning their vernal green and resounded with the calls of birds now. the mosquito plague of the region had not yet appeared, and there was little lacking to crown with a halo the memory of those days on the missouri of the north. native quadrupeds seemed scarce, and we were all agog when one of the men saw a black fox trotting along the opposite bank. however, it turned out to be one of the many stray dogs of the country. he followed us a mile or more, stopping at times to leap at fish that showed near the shore. when we landed for lunch he swam the broad stream and hung about at a distance. as this was twenty miles from any settlement, he was doubtless hungry, so i left a bountiful lunch for him, and when we moved away, he claimed his own. at fort mckay i saw a little half-breed boy shooting with a bow and displaying extraordinary marksmanship. at sixty feet he could hit the bottom of a tomato tin nearly every time; and even more surprising was the fact that he held the arrow with what is known as the mediterranean hold. when, months later, i again stopped at this place, i saw another boy doing the very same. some residents assured me that this was the style of all the chipewyans as well as the crees. that night we camped far down the river and on the side opposite the fort, for experience soon teaches one to give the dogs no chance of entering camp on marauding expeditions while you rest. about ten, as i was going to sleep, preble put his head in and said: "come out here if you want a new sensation." in a moment i was standing with him under the tall spruce trees, looking over the river to the dark forest, a quarter mile away, and listening intently to a new and wonderful sound. like the slow tolling of a soft but high-pitched bell, it came. ting, ting, ting, ting, and on, rising and falling with the breeze, but still keeping on about two "tings" to the second; and on, dulling as with distance, but rising again and again. it was unlike anything i had ever heard, but preble knew it of old. "that", says he, "is the love-song of the richardson owl. she is sitting demurely in some spruce top while he sails around, singing on the wing, and when the sound seems distant, he is on the far side of the tree." ting, ting, ting, ting, it went on and on, this soft belling of his love, this amorous music of our northern bell-bird. . ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting--oh, how could any lady owl resist such strains?--and on, with its ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, ting, the whole night air was vibrant. then, as though by plan, a different note--the deep booming "oho-oh-who-oh who hoo" of the great homed owl--was heard singing a most appropriate bass. but the little owl went on and on; 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes at last had elapsed before i turned in again and left him. more than once that night i awoke to hear his "tinging" serenade upon the consecrated air of the piney woods. yet preble said this one was an indifferent performer. on the mackenzie he had heard far better singers of the kind; some that introduce many variations of the pitch and modulation. i thought it one of the most charming bird voices i had ever listened to--and felt that this was one of the things that make the journey worth while. on june 1 the weather was so blustering and wet that we did not break camp. i put in the day examining the superb timber of this bottom-land. white spruce is the prevailing conifer and is here seen in perfection. a representative specimen was 118 feet high, 11 feet 2 inches in circumference, or 3 feet 6 1/2 inches in diameter 1 foot from the ground, i.e., above any root spread. there was plenty of timber of similar height. black spruce, a smaller kind, and tamarack are found farther up and back in the bog country. jackpine of fair size abounds on the sandy and gravelly parts. balsam poplar is the largest deciduous tree; its superb legions in upright ranks are crowded along all the river banks and on the islands not occupied by the spruce. the large trees of this kind often have deep holes; these are the nesting sites of the whistler duck, which is found in numbers here and as far north as this tree, but not farther. white poplar is plentiful also; the hillsides are beautifully clad with its purplish masses of twigs, through which its white stem gleam like marble columns. white birch is common and large enough for canoes. two or three species of willow in impenetrable thickets make up the rest of the forest stretches. at this camp i had the unique experience of showing all these seasoned westerners that it was possible to make a fire by the friction of two sticks. this has long been a specialty of mine; i use a thong and a bow as the simplest way. ordinarily i prefer balsam-fir or tamarack; in this case i used a balsam block and a spruce drill, and, although each kind failed when used with drill and block the same, i got the fire in half a minute. on june 3 we left this camp of tall timber. as we floated down we sighted a lynx on the bank looking contemplatively into the flood. one of the police boys seized a gun and with a charge of no. 6 killed the lynx. poor thing, it was in a starving condition, as indeed are most meat-eaters this year in the north. though it was fully grown, it weighed but 15 pounds. in its stomach was part of a sparrow (white-throat?) and a piece of rawhide an inch wide and 4 feet long, evidently a portion of a dog-harness picked up somewhere along the river. i wonder what he did with the bells. that night we decided to drift, leaving one man on guard. next day, as we neared lake athabaska, the shores got lower, and the spruce disappeared, giving way to dense thickets of low willow. here the long expected steamer, graham, passed, going upstream. we now began to get occasional glimpses of lake athabaska across uncertain marshes and sand bars. it was very necessary to make fort chipewyan while there was a calm, so we pushed on. after four hours' groping among blind channels and mud banks, we reached the lake at midnight--though of course there was no night, but a sort of gloaming even at the darkest--and it took us four hours' hard rowing to cover the ten miles that separated us from chipewyan. it sounds very easy and commonplace when one says "hard rowing," but it takes on more significance when one is reminded that those oars were 18 feet long, 5 inches through, and weighed about 20 pounds each; the boat was 30 feet long, a demasted schooner indeed, and rowing her through shallow muddy water, where the ground suction was excessive, made labour so heavy that 15 minute spells were all any one could do. we formed four relays, and all worked in turn all night through, arriving at chipewyan. 4 a.m., blistered, sore, and completely tired out. fort chipewyan (pronounced chip-we-yan') was billy loutit's home, and here we met his father, mother, and numerous as well as interesting sisters. meanwhile i called at the roman catholic mission, under bishop gruard, and the rival establishment, under reverend roberts, good men all, and devoted to the cause, but loving not each other. the hudson's bay company, however, was here, as everywhere in the north, the really important thing. there was a long stretch of dead water before we could resume our downward drift, and, worse than that, there was such a flood on the peace river that it was backing the athabaska, that is, the tide of the latter was reversed on the rocher river, which extends twenty-five miles between here and peace mouth. to meet this, i hired colin fraser's steamer. we left chipewyan at 6.15; at 11.15 camped below the peace on great slave river, and bade farewell to the steamer. the reader may well be puzzled by these numerous names; the fact is the mackenzie, the slave, the peace, the rocher, and the unchaga are all one and the same river, but, unfortunately, the early explorers thought proper to give it a new name each time it did something, such as expand into a lake. by rights it should be the unchaga or unjiza, from the rockies to the arctic, with the athabaska as its principal southern tributary. the next day another lynx was collected. in its stomach were remains of a redsquirrel, a chipmunk, and a bog-lemming. the last was important as it made a new record. the athabaska is a great river, the peace is a greater, and the slave, formed by their union, is worthy of its parents. its placid flood is here nearly a mile wide, and its banks are covered with a great continuous forest of spruce trees of the largest size. how far back this extends i do not know, but the natives say the best timber is along the river. more than once a lynx was seen trotting by or staring at us from the bank, but no other large animal. on the night of june 7 we reached smith landing. chapter v a conference with the chiefs a few bands of buffalo are said to exist in the country east of great slave river. among other matters, major jarvis had to report on these, find out how many were left, and exactly where they were. when he invited me to join his expedition, with these questions in view, i needed no pressing. our first business was to get guides, and now our troubles began. through the traders we found four natives who knew the buffalo range--they were kiya, sousi, kirma, and peter squirrel. however, they seemed in no way desirous of guiding any one into that country. they dodged and delayed and secured many postponements, but the royal mounted police and the hudson's bay company are the two mighty powers of the land, so, urged by an officer of each, these worthies sullenly assembled to meet us in sousi's cabin. sousi, by the way, is chipewyan for joseph, and this man's name was joseph beaulieu. other northern travellers have warned all that came after them to beware of the tribe of beaulieu, so we were on guard. sullen silence greeted us as we entered; we could feel their covert antagonism. jarvis is one of those affable, good-tempered individuals that most persons take for "easy." in some ways he may be so, but i soon realised that he was a keen judge of men and their ways, and he whispered to me: "they mean to block us if possible." sousi understood french and had some english, but the others professed ignorance of everything but chipewyan. so it was necessary to call in an interpreter. how admirably he served us may be judged from the following sample secured later. q. are the buffalo near? a. wah-hay-was-ki busquow kai-ah taw nip-ee-wat-chow-es-kee nee-moy-ah. kee-as-o-win sugee-meesh i-mush-wa mus-tat-e-muck ne-mow-ah pe-muk-te-ok nemoy-ah dane-tay-tay-ah. interpreter. he say "no." q. how long would it take to get them? a. ne-moy-ah mis-chay-to-ok way-hay-o ay-ow-ok-iman-kah-mus-to-ok. mis-ta-hay cha-gowos-ki wah-hay-o musk-ee-see-seepi. mas-kootch e-goot-ah-i-ow mas-kootch ne-moy-ah muk-eboy sak-te-muk mas-kootch gahk-sin-now ne-moy-ah gehk-kee-win-tay dam-foole-inglis. interpreter. he say "don't know." q. can you go with us as guide? a. kee-ya-wah-lee nas-bah a-lash-tay wah-lee-lee lan-day. (answer literally) "yes, i could go if i could leave the transport." interpreter's answer, "mebby." after a couple of hours of this bootless sort of thing we had made no headway toward getting a guide, nor could we get definite information about the buffaloes or the wolves. finally the meeting suffered a sort of natural disintegration. next day we tried again, but again there were technical difficulties, grown up like mushrooms over night. kiya could not go or lend his horses, because it was mostly squirrel's country, and he was afraid squirrel would not like it. squirrel could not go because it would be indelicate of him to butt in after negotiations had been opened with kiya. kirma was not well. sousi could not go because his wife was sick, and it preyed on his mind so that he dare not trust himself away from the settlement; at least, not without much medicine to fortify him against rheumatism, home-sickness, and sadness. next day kiya sent word that he had business of great moment, and could not meet us, but would see that early in the morning squirrel was notified to come and do whatever we wished. in the morning squirrel also had disappeared, leaving word that he had quite overlooked a most important engagement to "portage some flour across the rapids," not that he loved the tump line, but he had "promised," and to keep his word was very precious to him. jarvis and i talked it over and reviewed the information we had. at ottawa it was reported that the wolves were killing the calves, so the buffalo did not increase. at winnipeg the wolves were so bad that they killed yearlings; at edmonton the cows were not safe. at chipewyan the wolves, reinforced by large bands from the barren grounds, were killing the young buffalo, and later the cows and young bulls. at smith's landing the wolves had even tackled an old bull whose head was found with the large bones. horses and dogs were now being devoured. terrible battles were taking place between the dark wolves of peace river and the white wolves of the barrens for possession of the buffalo grounds. of course the buffalo were disappearing; about a hundred were all that were left. but no one ever sees any of these terrible wolves, the few men who know that country have plenty of pemmican, that is neither moose nor caribou, and the major briefly summed up the situation: "the wolves are indeed playing havoc with the buffalo, and the ravenous leaders of the pack are called sousi, kiya, kirma, and squirrel." now of all the four, sousi, being a beaulieu and a half-breed, had the worst reputation, but of all the four he was the only one that had admitted a possibility of guiding us, and was to be found on the fifth morning. so his views were met, a substitute found to watch his fishing nets, groceries to keep his wife from pining during his absence, a present for himself, the regular rate of wages doubled, his horses hired, his rheumatism, home-sickness, and sadness provided against, a present of tobacco, some more presents, a promise of reward for every buffalo shown, then another present, and we set out. chapter vi out with sousi beaulieu it's a, fine thing to get started, however late in the day, and though it was 3.20 p. m. before everything was ready, we gladly set out--sousi, major jarvis, and myself--all mounted, the native leading a packhorse with provisions. and now we had a chance to study our guide. a man's real history begins, of course, about twenty years before he is born. in the middle of the last century was a notorious old ruffian named beaulieu. montreal was too slow for him, so he invaded the north-west with a chosen crew of congenial spirits. his history can be got from any old resident of the north-west. i should not like to write it as it was told to me. his alleged offspring are everywhere in the country, and most travellers on their return from this region, sound a note of warning: "look out for every one of the name of beaulieu. they are a queer lot." and now we had committed ourselves and our fortunes into the hands of beaulieu's second or twenty-second son--i could not make sure which. he is a typical half-breed, of medium height, thin, swarthy, and very active, although he must be far past 60. just how far is not known, whether 59 69 or 79, he himself seemed uncertain, but he knows there is a 9 in it. the women of smith's landing say 59, the men say 79 or 89. he is clad in what might be the cast-off garments of a white tramp, except for his beaded moccasins. however sordid these people may be in other parts of their attire, i note that they always have some redeeming touch of color and beauty about the moccasins which cover their truly shapely feet. sousi's rifle, a winchester, also was clad in a native mode. an embroidered cover of moose leather protected it night and day, except when actually in use; of his weapons he took most scrupulous care. unlike the founder of the family, sousi has no children of his own. but he has reared a dozen waifs under prompting of his own kind heart. he is quite a character--does not drink or smoke, and i never heard him swear. this is not because he does not know how, for he is conversant with the vigor of all the five languages of the country, and the garment of his thought is like joseph's coat--ethnologically speaking, its breadth and substance are french, but it bears patches of english, with flowers and frills, strophes, and classical allusions of cree and chipewyan--the last being the language of his present "home circle." there was one more peculiarity of our guide that struck me forcibly. he was forever considering his horse. whenever the trail was very bad, and half of it was, sousi dismounted and walked--the horse usually following freely, for the pair were close friends. this, then, was the dark villain against whom we had been warned. how he lived up to his reputation will be seen later. after four hours' march through a level, swampy country, forested with black and white spruce, black and white poplar, birch, willow, and tamarack, we came to salt river, a clear, beautiful stream, but of weak, salty brine. not far away in the woods was a sweet spring, and here we camped for the night. close by, on a place recently burnt over, i found the nest of a green-winged teal. all cover was gone and the nest much singed, but the down had protected the 10 eggs. the old one fluttered off, played lame, and tried to lead me away. i covered up the eggs and an hour later found she had returned and resumed her post. that night, as i sat by the fire musing, i went over my life when i was a boy in manitoba, just too late to see the buffalo, recalling how i used to lie in some old buffalo wallow and peer out over the prairie through the fringe of spring anemones and long to see the big brown forms on the plains. once in those days i got a sensation, for i did see them. they turned out to be a herd of common cattle, but still i got the thrill. now i was on a real buffalo hunt, some twenty-five years too late. will it come? am i really to see the wild buffalo on its native plains? it is too good to be true; too much like tipping back the sands of time. chapter vii the buffalo hunt we left camp on salt river at 7.45 in the morning and travelled till 11 o'clock, covering six miles. it was all through the same level country, in which willow swamps alternated with poplar and spruce ridges. at 11 it began to rain, so we camped on a slope under some fine, big white spruces till it cleared, and then continued westward. the country now undulated somewhat and was varied with openings. sousi says that when first he saw this region, 30 years ago, it was all open prairie, with timber only in hollows and about water. this is borne out by the facts that all the large trees are in such places, and that all the level open stretches are covered with sapling growths of aspen and fir. this will make a glorious settlement some day. in plants, trees, birds, soil, climate, and apparently all conditions, it is like manitoba. we found the skeleton of a cow buffalo, apparently devoured by wolves years ago, because all the big bones were there and the skull unbroken. about two in the afternoon we came up a 200-foot rise to a beautiful upland country, in which the forests were diversified with open glades, and which everywhere showed a most singular feature. the ground is pitted all over with funnel-shaped holes, from 6 to 40 feet deep, and of equal width across the rim; none of them contained water. i saw one 100 feet across and about 50 feet deep; some expose limestone; in one place we saw granite. at first i took these for extinct geysers, but later i learned that the whole plateau called salt mountain is pitted over with them. brine is running out of the mountain in great quantities, which means that the upper strata are being undermined as the salt washes out, and, as these crack, the funnels are formed no doubt by the loose deposits settling. in the dry woods bear tracks became extremely numerous; the whole country, indeed, was marked with the various signs. practically every big tree has bearclaw markings on it, and every few yards there is evidence that the diet of the bears just now is chiefly berries of uva ursi. as we rode along sousi prattled cheerfully in his various tongues; but his steady flow of conversation abruptly ended when, about 2 p. m., we came suddenly on some buffalo tracks, days old, but still buffalo tracks. all at once and completely he was the hunter. he leaped from his horse and led away like a hound. ere long, of course, the trail was crossed by two fresher ones; then we found some dry wallows and several very fresh tracks. we tied up the horses in an old funnel pit and set about an elaborate hunt. jarvis minded the stock, i set out with sousi, after he had tried the wind by tossing up some grass. but he stopped, drew a finger-nail sharply across my canvas coat, so that it gave a little shriek, and said "va pa," which is "cela ne va pas" reduced to its bony framework. i doffed the offending coat and we went forward as shown on the map. the horses were left at a; the wind was east. first we circled a little to eastward, tossing grass at intervals, but, finding plenty of new sign, went northerly and westward till most of the new sign was east of us. sousi then led for c, telling me to step in his tracks and make no noise. i did so for long, but at length a stick cracked under my foot; he turned and looked reproachfully at me. then a stick cracked under his foot; i gave him a poke in the ribs. when we got to the land between the lake at d, sousi pointed and said, "they are here." we sneaked with the utmost caution that way--it was impossible to follow any one trail--and in 200 yards sousi sank to the ground gasping out, "la! la! maintenon faites son portrait au taut que vous voudrez." i crawled forward and saw, not one, but half a dozen buffalo. "i must be nearer," i said, and, lying flat on my breast, crawled, toes and elbows, up to a bush within 75 yards, where i made shot no. 1, and saw here that there were 8 or 9 buffalo, one an immense bull. sousi now cocked his rifle-i said emphatically: "stop! you must not fire." "no?" he said in astonished tones that were full of story and comment. "what did we come for?" now i saw that by backing out and crawling to another bunch of herbage i could get within 50 yards. "it is not possible," he gasped. "watch me and see," i replied. gathering all the near vines and twisting them around my neck, i covered my head with leaves and creeping plants, then proceeded to show that it was possible, while sousi followed. i reached the cover and found it was a bed of spring anemones on the far side of an old buffalo wallow, and there in that wallow i lay for a moment revelling in the sight. all at once it came to me: now, indeed, was fulfilled the long-deferred dream of my youth, for in shelter of those flowers of my youth, i was gazing on a herd of wild buffalo. then slowly i rose above the cover and took my second picture. but the watchful creatures, more shy than moose here, saw the rising mass of herbage, or may have caught the wind, rose lightly and went off. i noticed now, for the first time, a little red calf; ten buffalo in all i counted. sousi, standing up, counted 13. at the edge of the woods they stopped and looked around, but gave no third shot for the camera. i shook sousi's hand with all my heart, and he, good old fellow, said: "ah! it was for this i prayed last night; without doubt it was in answer to my prayer that the good god has sent me this great happiness." then back at camp, 200 yards away, the old man's tongue was loosed, and he told me how the chiefs in conference, and every one at the fort, had ridiculed him and his englishmen--"who thought they could walk up to buffalo and take their pictures." we had not been long in camp when sousi went off to get some water, but at once came running back, shouting excitedly, "my rifle, my rifle!" jarvis handed it to him; he rushed off to the woods. i followed in time to see him shoot an old bear and two cubs out of a tree. she fell, sobbing like a human being, "oh! oh! oh-h-h-h!" it was too late to stop him, and he finished her as she lay helpless. the little ones were too small to live alone, so shared her fate. it seems, as sousi went to the water hole, he came on an old bear and her two cubs. she gave a warning "koff, koff." the only enemies they knew about and feared, were buffalo, moose, and wolves; from these a tree was a safe haven. the cubs scrambled up a tall poplar, then the mother followed. sousi came shouting in apparent fear; i rushed to the place, thinking he was attacked by something, perhaps a buffalo bull, but too late to stop the tragedy that followed. that night he roasted one of the cubs, and as i watched the old cannibal chewing the hands off that little baby bear it gave me a feeling of disgust for all flesh-eating that lasted for days. major jarvis felt much as i did, and old sousi had exclusive joy in all his bear meat. next morning i was left at camp while jarvis and sousi went off to seek for more buffalo. i had a presentiment that they would find none, so kept the camera and went off to the lake a mile west, and there made drawings of some tracks, took photos, etc., and on the lake saw about twenty-five pairs of ducks, identified whitewinged scoter, pintail, green-winged teal, and loon. i also watched the manoeuvres of a courting peetweet. he approached the only lady with his feathers up and his wings raised; she paid no heed (apparently), but i noticed that when he flew away she followed. i saw a large garter snake striped black and green, and with 2 rows of red spots, one on each side. it was very fat and sluggish. i took it for a female about to lay. later i learned from sousi and others that this snake is quite common here, and the only kind found, but in the mountains that lie not far away in the west is another kind, much thicker, fatter, and more sluggish. its bite is fearfully poisonous, often fatal; "but the good god has marked the beast by putting a cloche (bell) in its tail." about 10 i turned campward, but after tramping for nearly an hour i was not only not at home, i was in a totally strange kind of country, covered with a continuous poplar woods. i changed my course and tried a different direction, but soon was forced to the conclusion that (for the sixth or seventh time in my life) i was lost. "dear me," i said, "this is an interesting opportunity. it comes to me now that i once wrote an essay on 'what to do and what not to do when lost in the woods.' now what in the world did i say in it, and which were the things not to do. yes, i remember now, these were the pieces of advice: "1st. 'don't get frightened.' well, i'm not; i am simply amused. "2d. 'wait for your friends to come.' can't do that; i'm too busy; they wouldn't appear till night. "3d. 'if you must travel, go back to a place where you were sure of the way.' that means back to the lake, which i know is due west of the camp and must be west of me now." so back i went, carefully watching the sun for guidance, and soon realised that whenever i did not, i swung to the left. after nearly an hour's diligent travel i did get back to the lake, and followed my own track in the margin to the point of leaving it; then, with a careful corrected bearing, made for camp and arrived in 40 minutes, there to learn that on the first attempt i had swung so far to the left that i had missed camp by half a mile, and was half a mile beyond it before i knew i was wrong. (see map on p. 46.) at noon jarvis and sousi came back jubilant; they had seen countless buffalo trails, had followed a large bull and cow, but had left them to take the trail of a considerable band; these they discovered in a lake. there were 4 big bulls, 4 little calves, 1 yearling, 3 2-year-olds, 8 cows. these allowed them to come openly within 60 yards. then took alarm and galloped off. they also saw a moose and a marten--and 2 buffalo skeletons. how i did curse my presentiment that prevented them having the camera and securing a really fine photograph! at 2 p. m. sousi prepared to break camp. he thought that by going back on our trail he might strike the trail of another herd off to the south-east of the mountain. jarvis shrewdly suspected that our guide wanted to go home, having kept his promise, won the reward, and got a load of bear meat. however, the native was the guide, we set out in a shower which continued more or less all day and into the night, so we camped in the rain. next day it was obvious, and sousi no longer concealed the fact, that he was making for home as fast as he could go. at salt river i found the little teal back on her eggs in the burnt ground. at 3.30 we reached smith landing, having been absent exactly 3 days, and having seen in that time 33 buffalo, 4 of them calves of this year, 3 old buffalo skeletons of ancient date, but not a track or sign of a wolf, not a howl by night, or any evidence of their recent presence, for the buffalo skeletons found were obviously very old. and our guide--the wicked one of evil ancestry and fame--he was kind, cheerful, and courteous through out; he did exactly as he promised, did it on time, and was well pleased with the pay we gave him. speak as you find. if ever i revisit that country i shall be glad indeed to secure the services of good old sousi, even if he is a beaulieu. chapter viii thomas anderson we were now back at smith landing, and fired with a desire to make another buffalo expedition on which we should have ampler time and cover more than a mere corner of the range. we aimed, indeed, to strike straight into the heart of the buffalo country. the same trouble about guides arose. in this case it was less acute, because sousi's account had inspired considerably more respect. still it meant days of delay which, however, i aimed to make profitable by investigations near at hand. after all, the most interesting of creatures is the two-legged one with the loose and changeable skin, and there was a goodly colony of the kind to choose from. most prominent of them all was thomas anderson, the genial hudson's bay company officer in charge of the mackenzie river district. his headquarters are at fort smith, 16 miles down the river, but his present abode was smith landing, where all goods are landed for overland transport to avoid the long and dangerous navigation on the next 16 miles of the broad stream. like most of his official brethren, he is a scotchman; he was born in nairn, scotland, in 1848. at 19 he came to the north-west in service of the company, and his long and adventurous life, as he climbed to his present responsible position, may be thus skeletonised: he spent six months at fort temiscamingue, 1 year at grand lac, 3 years at kakabonga, 5 years at hunter's lodge, chippeway, 10 years at abitibi, 3 years at dunvegan, peace river, 1 year at lesser slave lake, 2 months at savanne, fort william, 10 years at nipigon house, 3 years at isle a la crosse, 4 years on the mackenzie river, chiefly at fort simpson, 6 months at fort smith. which tells little to the ears of the big world, but if we say that he spent 5 years in berlin, then was moved for 3 years to gibraltar, 2 years to various posts on the rhine, whence he went for 4 years to st. petersburg; thence to relieve the officer in charge of constantinople, and made several flying visits to bombay and pekin, we shall have some idea of his travels, for all were afoot, on dogsled, or by canoe. what wonderful opportunities he had to learn new facts about the wood folk--man and beast--and how little he knew the value of the glimpses that he got! i made it my business to gather all i could of his memories, so far as they dwelt with the things of my world, and offer now a resume of his more interesting observations on hunter and hunted of the north. [since these notes were made, thomas anderson has "crossed the long portage."] the following are among the interesting animal notes: cougar. ogushen, the indian trapper at lac des quinze, found tracks of a large cat at that place in the fall of 1879 (?). he saw them all winter on south bay of that lake. one day he came on the place where it had killed a caribou. when he came back about march he saw it. it came toward him. it was evidently a cat longer than a lynx and it had a very long tail, which swayed from side to side as it walked. he shot it dead, but feared to go near it believing it to be a wendigo. it had a very bad smell. anderson took it to be a puma. it was unknown to the indian. ogushen was a first-class hunter and anderson firmly believes he was telling the truth. lac des quinze is 15 miles north of lake temiscamingue. seals. in old days, he says, small seals were found in lake ashkeek. this is 50 miles north-east from temiscamingue. it empties into kippewa river, which empties into temiscamingue. he never saw one, but the indians of the vicinity told of it as a thing which commonly happened 50 or 60 years ago. ashkeek is ojibwa for seal. it is supposed that they wintered in the open water about the rapids. white foxes, he says, were often taken at cree lake. indeed one or two were captured each year. cree lake is 190 miles south-east of fort chipewyan. they are also taken at fort chipewyan from time to time. one was taken at fondulac, east end of lake athabaska, and was traded at smith landing in 1906. they are found regularly at fondulac, the east end of great slave lake, each year. in the winter of 1885-6 he was to be in charge of nipigon house, but got orders beforehand to visit the posts on albany river. he set out from fort william on lake superior on his 1,200-mile trip through the snow with an indian whose name was joe eskimo, from manitoulin island, 400 miles away. at nipigon house he got another guide, but this one was in bad shape, spitting blood. after three days' travel the guide said: "i will go to the end if it kills me, because i have promised, unless i can get you a better guide. at wayabimika (lake savanne) is an old man named omeegi; he knows the road better than i do." when they got there, omeegi, although very old and half-blind, was willing to go on condition that they should not walk too fast. then they started for osnaburgh house on lake st. joseph, 150 miles away. the old man led off well, evidently knew the way, but sometimes would stop, cover his eyes with his hands, look at the ground and then at the sky, and turn on a sharp angle. he proved a fine guide and brought the expedition there in good time. next winter at wayabimika (where charley de la ronde [count de la ronde.] was in charge, but was leaving on a trip of 10 days) omeegi came in and asked for a present--"a new shirt and a pair of pants." this is the usual outfit for a corpse. he explained that he was to die before charley came back; that he would die "when the sun rose at that island" (a week ahead). he got the clothes, though every one laughed at him. a week later he put on the new garments and said: "to-day i die when the sun is over that island!" he went out, looking at the sun from time to time, placidly smoking. when the sun got to the right place he came in, lay down by the fire, and in a few minutes was dead. we buried him in the ground, to his brother's great indignation when he heard of it. he said: "you white men live on things that come out of the ground, and are buried in the ground, and properly, but we indians live on things that run above ground, and want to take our last sleep in the trees." another case of indian clairvoyance ran thus: about 1879, when anderson was at abitibi, the winter packet used to leave montreal, january 2, each year, and arrive at abitibi january 19. this year it did not come. the men were much bothered as all plans were upset. after waiting about two weeks, some of the indians and half-breeds advised anderson to consult the conjuring woman, mash-kou-tay ish-quay (prairie woman) a flathead from stuart lake, b. c. he went and paid her some tobacco. she drummed and conjured all night. she came in the morning and told him: "the packet is at the foot of a rapid now, where there is open water; the snow is deep and the travelling heavy, but it will be here to-morrow when the sun is at that point." sure enough, it all fell out as she had told. this woman married a hudson's bay man named macdonald, and he brought her to lachine, where she bore him 3 sons; then he died of small-pox, and sir george simpson gave orders that she should be sent up to abitibi and there pensioned for as long as she lived. she was about 75 at the time of the incident. she many times gave evidence of clairvoyant power. the priest said he "knew about it, and that she was helped by the devil." a gruesome picture of indian life is given in the following incident. one winter, 40 or 50 years ago, a band of algonquin indians at wayabimika all starved to death except one squaw and her baby; she fled from the camp, carrying the child, thinking to find friends and help at nipigon house. she got as far as a small lake near deer lake, and there discovered a cache, probably in a tree. this contained one small bone fish-hook. she rigged up a line, but had no bait. the wailing of the baby spurred her to action. no bait, but she had a knife; a strip of flesh was quickly cut from her own leg, a hole made through the ice, and a fine jack-fish was the food that was sent to this devoted mother. she divided it with the child, saving only enough for bait. she stayed there living on fish until spring, then safely rejoined her people. the boy grew up to be a strong man, but was cruel to his mother, leaving her finally to die of starvation. anderson knew the woman; she showed him the sear where she cut the bait. a piece of yet, more ancient history was supplied him in northern ontario, and related to me thus: anderson was going to kakabonga in june, 1879, and camped one night on the east side of birch lake on the ottawa, about 50 miles north-east of grand lake post. he and his outfit of two canoes met pah-pah-tay, chief of the grand lake indians, travelling with his family. he called anderson's attention to the shape of the point which had one good landing-place, a little sandy bay, and told him the story he heard from his people of a battle that was fought there with the iroquois long, long ago. four or five iroquois war-canoes, filled with warriors, came to this place on a foray for scalps. their canoes were drawn up on the beach at night. they lighted fires and had a war-dance. three grand lake algonquins, forefathers of pah-pah-tay, saw the dance from, hiding. they cached their canoe, one of them took a sharp flint--"we had no knives or axes then"--swam across to the canoes, and cut a great hole in the bottom of each. the three then posted themselves at three different points in the bushes, and began whooping in as many different ways as possible. the iroquois, thinking it a great war-party, rushed to their canoes and pushed off quickly. when they were in deep water the canoes sank and, as the warriors swam back ashore, the algonquins killed them one by one, saving alive only one, whom they maltreated, and then let go with a supply of food, as a messenger to his people, and to carry the warning that this would be the fate of every iroquois that entered the algonquin country. chapter ix mosquitoes reference to my smith landing journal for june 17 shows the following: "the spring is now on in full flood, the grass is high, the trees are fully leaved, flowers are blooming, birds are nesting, and the mosquitoes are a terror to man and beast." if i were to repeat all the entries in that last key, it would make dreary and painful reading; i shall rather say the worst right now, and henceforth avoid the subject. every traveller in the country agrees that the mosquitoes are a frightful curse. captain back, in 1833 (journal, p. 117), said that the sand-flies and mosquitoes are the worst of the hardships to which the northern traveller is exposed. t. hutchins, over a hundred years ago, said that no one enters the barren grounds in the summer, because no man can stand the stinging insects. i had read these various statements, but did not grasp the idea until i was among them. at smith landing, june 7, mosquitoes began to be troublesome, quite as numerous as in the worst part of the new jersey marshes. an estimate of those on the mosquito bar over my bed, showed 900 to 1,000 trying to get at me; day and night, without change, the air was ringing with their hum. this was early in the season. on july 9, on nyarling river, they were much worse, and my entry was as follows: "'on the back of billy's coat, as he sat paddling before me, i counted a round 400 mosquitoes boring away; about as many were on the garments of his head and neck, a much less number on his arms and legs. the air about was thick with them; at least as many more, fully 1,000, singing and stinging and filling the air with a droning hum. the rest of us were equally pestered. "'the major, fresh, ruddy, full-blooded, far over 200 pounds in plumpness, is the best feeding ground for mosquitoes i (or they, probably) ever saw; he must be a great improvement on the smoke-dried indians. no matter where they land on him they strike it rich, and at all times a dozen or more bloated bloodsuckers may be seen hanging like red currants on his face and neck. he maintains that they do not bother him, and scoffs at me for wearing a net. they certainly do not impair his health, good looks, or his perennial good humour, and i, for one, am thankful that his superior food-quality gives us a corresponding measure of immunity." at salt river one could kill 100 with a stroke of the palm and at times they obscured the colour of the horses. a little later they were much worse. on 6 square inches of my tent i counted 30 mosquitoes, and the whole surface was similarly supplied; that is, there were 24,000 on the tent and apparently as many more flying about the door. most of those that bite us are killed but that makes not the slightest perceptible difference in their manners or numbers. they reminded me of the klondike gold-seekers. thousands go; great numbers must die a miserable death; not more than one in 10,000 can get away with a load of the coveted stuff, and yet each believes that he is to be that one, and pushes on. dr. l. 0. howard tells us that the mosquito rarely goes far from its birthplace. that must refer to the miserable degenerates they have in new jersey, for these of the north offer endless evidence of power to travel, as well as to resist cold and wind. on july 21, 1907, we camped on a small island on great slave lake. it was about one-quarter mile long, several miles from mainland, at least half a mile from any other island, apparently all rock, and yet it was swarming with mosquitoes. here, as elsewhere, they were mad for our blood; those we knocked off and maimed, would crawl up with sprained wings and twisted legs to sting as fiercely as ever, as long as the beak would work. we thought the stinging pests of the buffalo country as bad as possible, but they proved mild and scarce compared with those we yet had to meet on the arctic barrens of our ultimate goal. each day they got worse; soon it became clear that mere adjectives could not convey any idea of their terrors. therefore i devised a mosquito gauge. i held up a bare hand for 5 seconds by the watch, then counted the number of borers on the back; there were 5 to 10. each day added to the number, and when we got out to the buffalo country, there were 15 to 25 on the one side of the hand and elsewhere in proportion. on the nyarling, in early july, the number was increased, being now 20 to 40. on great slave lake, later that month, there were 50 to 60. but when we reached the barren grounds, the land of open breezy plains and cold water lakes, the pests were so bad that the hand held up for 5 seconds often showed from 100 to 125 long-billed mosquitoes boring away into the flesh. it was possible to number them only by killing them and counting the corpses. what wonder that all men should avoid the open plains, that are the kingdom of such a scourge. yet it must not be thought that the whole country is similarly and evenly filled. there can be no doubt that they flock and fly to the big moving creatures they see or smell. maybe we had gathered the whole mosquito product of many acres. this is shown by the facts that if one rushes through thick bushes for a distance, into a clear space, the mosquitoes seem absent at first. one must wait a minute or so to gather up another legion. when landing from a boat on the northern lakes there are comparatively few, but even in a high wind, a walk to the nearest hilltop results in one again moving in a cloud of tormentors. does not this readiness to assemble at a bait suggest a possible means of destroying them? every one, even the seasoned natives, agree that they are a terror to man and beast; but, thanks to our flyproof tents, we sleep immune. during the day i wear my net and gloves, uncomfortably hot, but a blessed relief from the torment. it is easy to get used to those coverings; it is impossible to get used to the mosquitoes. for july 10 i find this note: "the mosquitoes are worse now than ever before; even jarvis, preble, and the indians are wearing face protectors of some kind. the major has borrowed preble's closed net, much to the latter's discomfiture, as he himself would be glad to wear it." this country has, for 6 months, the finest climate in the world, but 2 1/2 of these are ruined by the malignancy of the fly plague. yet it is certain that knowledge will confer on man the power to wipe them out. no doubt the first step in this direction is a thorough understanding of the creature's life-history. this understanding many able mien are working for. but there is another line of thought that should not be forgotten, though it is negative--many animals are immune. which are they? our first business is to list them if we would learn the why of immunity. frogs are among the happy ones. one day early in june i took a wood-frog in my hand. the mosquitoes swarmed about. in a few seconds 30 were on my hand digging away; 10 were on my forefinger, 8 on my thumb; between these was the frog, a creature with many resemblances to man--red blood, a smooth, naked, soft skin, etc.--and yet not a mosquito attacked it. scores had bled my hand before one alighted on the frog, and it leaped off again as though the creature were red hot. the experiment repeated with another frog gave the same result. why? it can hardly be because the frog is cold-blooded, for many birds also seem, to be immune, and their blood is warmer than man's. next, i took a live frog and rubbed it on my hand over an area marked out with lead pencil; at first the place was wet, but in a few seconds dry and rather shiny. i held up my hand till 50 mosquitoes had alighted on it and begun to bore; of these, 4 alighted on the froggy place, 3 at once tumbled off in haste, but one, no. 32, did sting me there. i put my tongue to the frog's back; it was slightly bitter. i took a black-gilled fungus from a manure pile to-day, rubbed a small area, and held my hand bare till 50 mosquitoes had settled and begun to sting; 7 of these alighted on the fungus juice, but moved off at once, except the last; it stung, but at that time the juice was dry. many other creatures, including some birds, enjoy immunity, but i note that mosquitoes did attack a dead crane; also they swarmed onto a widgeon plucked while yet warm, and bored in deep; but i did not see any filling with blood. there is another kind of immunity that is equally important and obscure. in the summer of 1904, dr. clinton l. bagg, of new york, went to newfoundland for a fishing trip. the codroy country was, as usual, plagued with mosquitoes, but as soon as the party crossed into the garnish river valley, a land of woods and swamps like the other, the mosquitoes had disappeared. dr. bagg spent the month of august there, and found no use for nets, dopes, or other means of fighting winged pests; there were none. what the secret was no one at present knows, but it would be a priceless thing to find. now, lest i should do injustice to the northland that will some day be an empire peopled with white men, let me say that there are three belts of mosquito country the barren grounds, where they are worst and endure for 2 1/2 months; the spruce forest, where they are bad and continue for 2 months, and the great arable region of wheat, that takes in athabaska and saskatchewan, where the flies are a nuisance for 6 or 7 weeks, but no more so than they were in ontario, michigan, manitoba, and formerly england; and where the cultivation of the land will soon reduce them to insignificance, as it has invariably done in other similar regions. it is quite remarkable in the north-west that such plagues are most numerous in the more remote regions, and they disappear in proportion as the country is opened up and settled. finally, it is a relief to know that these mosquitoes convey no disease--even the far-spread malaria is unknown in the region. why did i not take a "dope" or "fly repellent," ask many of my friends. in answer i can only say i have never before been where mosquitoes were bad enough to need one. i had had no experience with fly-dope. i had heard that they are not very effectual, and so did not add one to the outfit. i can say now it was a mistake to leave any means untried. next time i carry "dope." the following recipe is highly recommended: pennyroyal, one part, oil of tar, " " spirits of camphor, " " sweet oil, or else vaseline, three parts. their natural enemies are numerous; most small birds prey on them; dragon-flies also, and the latter alone inspire fear in the pests. when a dragon-fly comes buzzing about one's head the mosquitoes move away to the other side, but it makes no considerable difference. on buffalo river i saw a boatman or water-spider seize, and devour a mosquito that fell within reach; which is encouraging, because, as a rule, the smaller the foe, the deadlier, and the only creature that really affects the whole mosquito nation is apparently a small red parasite that became more and more numerous as the season wore on. it appeared in red lumps on the bill and various parts of the stinger's body, and the victim became very sluggish. specimens sent to dr. l. 0. howard, the authority on mosquitoes, elicited the information that it was a fungus, probably new to science. but evidently it is deadly to the culex. more power to it, and the cause it represents; we cannot pray too much for its increase. now to sum up: after considering the vastness of the region affected--three-quarters of the globe--and the number of diseases these insects communicate, one is inclined to say that it might be a greater boon to mankind to extirpate the mosquito than to stamp out tuberculosis. the latter means death to a considerable proportion of our race, the former means hopeless suffering to all mankind; one takes off each year its toll of the weaklings the other spares none, and in the far north at least has made a hell on earth of the land that for six months of each year might be a human paradise. chapter x a bad case my unsought fame as a medicine man continued to grow. one morning i heard a white voice outside asking, "is the doctor in?" billy replied: "mr. seton is inside." on going forth i met a young american who thus introduced himself: "my name is y------, from michigan. i was a student at ann arbor when you lectured there in 1903. 1 don't suppose you remember me; i was one of the reception committee; but i'm mighty glad to meet you out here." after cordial greetings he held up his arm to explain the call and said: "i'm in a pretty bad way." "let's see." he unwound the bandage and showed a hand and arm swollen out of all shape, twice the natural size, and of a singular dropsical pallor. "have you any pain?" "i can't sleep from the torture of it." "where does it hurt now?" "in the hand." "how did you get it?" "it seemed to come on after a hard crossing of lake athabaska. we had to row all night." i asked one or two more questions, really to hide my puzzlement. "what in the world is it?" i said to myself; "all so fat and puffy." i cudgelled my brain for a clue. as i examined the hand in silence to play for time and conceal my ignorance, he went on: "what i'm afraid of is blood-poisoning. i couldn't get out to a doctor before a month, and by that time i'll be one-armed or dead. i know which i'd prefer." knowing, at all events, that nothing but evil could come of fear, i said: "now see here. you can put that clean out of your mind. you never saw blood-poisoning that colour, did you?" "that's so," and he seemed intensely relieved. while i was thus keeping up an air of omniscience by saying nothing, major jarvis came up. "look at this, jarvis," said i; "isn't it a bad one? "phew," said the major, "that's the worst felon i ever saw." like a gleam from heaven came the word felon. that's what it was, a felon or whitlow, and again i breathed freely. turning to the patient with my most cock-sure professional air, i said: "now see, y., you needn't worry; you've hurt your finger in rowing, and the injury was deep and has set up a felon. it is not yet headed up enough; as soon as it is i'll lance it, unless it bursts of itself (and inwardly i prayed it might burst). can you get any linseed meal or bran?" "afraid not." "well, then, get some clean rags and keep the place covered with them dipped in water as hot as you can stand it, and we'll head it up in twenty-four hours; then in three days i'll have you in good shape to travel." the last sentence, delivered with the calm certainty of a man who knows all about it and never made a mistake, did so much good to the patient that i caught a reflex of it myself. he gave me his good hand and said with emotion: "you don't know how much good you have done me. i don't mind being killed, but i don't want to go through life a cripple." "you say you haven't slept?" i asked. "not for three nights; i've suffered too much." "then take these pills. go to bed at ten o'clock and take a pill; if this does not put you to sleep, take another at 10.30. if you are still awake at 11, take the third; then you will certainly sleep." he went off almost cheerfully. next morning he was back, looking brighter. "well," i said, "you slept last night, all right." "no," he replied, "i didn't; there's opium in those pills, isn't there?" "yes." "i thought so. here they are. i made up my mind i'd see this out in my sober senses, without any drugs." "good for you," i exclaimed in admiration. "they talk about indian fortitude. if i had given one of those indians some sleeping pills, he'd have taken them all and asked for more. but you are the real american stuff, the pluck that can't be licked, and i'll soon have you sound as a dollar." then he showed his immense bladder-like hand. "i'll have to make some preparation, and will operate in your shanty at 1 o'clock," i said, thinking how very professional it sounded. the preparation consisted of whetting my penknife and, much more important, screwing up my nerves. and now i remembered my friend's brandy, put the flask in my pocket, and went to the execution. he was ready. "here," i said; "take a good pull at this brandy." "i will not," was the reply. "i'm man enough to go through on my mettle." "'oh! confound your mettle," i thought, for i wanted an excuse to take some myself, but could not for shame under the circumstances. "are you ready?" he laid his pudding-y hand on the table. "you better have your indian friend hold that hand." "i'll never budge," he replied, with set teeth, and motioned the indian away. and i knew he would not flinch. he will never know (till he reads this, perhaps) what an effort it cost me. i knew only i must cut deep enough to reach the pus, not so deep as to touch the artery, and not across the tendons, and must do it firmly, at one clean stroke. i did. it was a horrid success. he never quivered, but said: "is that all? that's a pin-prick to what i've been through every minute for the last week." i felt faint, went out behind the cabin, and--shall i confess it?--took a long swig of brandy. but i was as good as my promise: in three days he was well enough to travel, and soon as strong as ever. i wonder if real doctors ever conceal, under an air of professional calm, just such doubts and fears as worried me. chapter xi the second buffalo hunt though so trifling, the success of our first buffalo hunt gave us quite a social lift. the chiefs were equally surprised with the whites, and when we prepared for a second expedition, kiya sent word that though he could not act as guide, i should ride his own trained hunter, a horse that could run a trail like a hound, and was without guile. i am, always suspicious of a horse (or man) without guile. i wondered what was the particular weakness of this exceptionally trained, noble, and guileless creature. i have only one prejudice in horseflesh--i do not like a white one. so, of course, when the hunter arrived he was, white as marble, from mane to tail and hoofs; his very eyes were of a cheap china colour, suggestive of cataractine blindness. the only relief was a morbid tinge of faded shrimp pink in his nostrils and ears. but he proved better than he looked. he certainly did run tracks by nose like a hound, provided i let him choose the track. he was a lively walker and easy trotter, and would stay where the bridle was dropped, so i came to the conclusion that kiya was not playing a joke on me, but really had lent me his best hunter, whose sepulchral whiteness i could see would be of great advantage in snow time when chiefly one is supposed to hunt. not only kiya, but pierre squirrel, the head chief, seemed to harbour a more kindly spirit. he now suddenly acquired a smattering of english and a fair knowledge of french. he even agreed to lead us through his own hunting grounds to the big buffalo range, stipulating that we be back by july 1, as that was treaty day, when all the tribe assembled to receive their treaty money, and his presence as head chief was absolutely necessary. we were advised to start from fort smith, as the trail thence was through a dryer country; so on the morning of june 24, at 6.50, we left the fort on our second buffalo hunt. major a. m. jarvis, mr. e. a. preble, corporal selig, chief pierre squirrel, and myself, all mounted, plus two pack-horses, prepared for a week's campaign. riding ahead in his yellow caftan and black burnoose was pierre squirrel on his spirited charger, looking most picturesque. but remembering that his yellow caftan was a mosquito net, his black burnoose a hudson's bay coat, and his charger an ornery indian cayuse, robbed the picture of most of its poetry. we marched westerly 7 miles through fine, dry, jack-pine wood, then, 3 miles through mixed poplar, pine, and spruce, and came to the slave river opposite point gravois. thence we went a mile or so into similar woods, and after another stretch of muskegs. we camped for lunch at 11.45, having covered 12 miles. at two we set out, and reached salt river at three, but did not cross there. it is a magnificent stream, 200 feet wide, with hard banks and fine timber on each side; but its waters are brackish. we travelled north-westerly, or northerly, along the east banks for an hour, but at length away from it on a wide prairie, a mile or more across here, but evidently extending much farther behind interruptions of willow clumps. probably these prairies join, with those we saw on the beaulieu trip. they are wet now, though a horse can go anywhere, and the grass is good. we camped about six on a dry place back from the river. at night i was much interested to hear at intervals the familiar kick-kick-kick-kick of the yellow rail in the adjoining swamps. this must be its northmost range; we did not actually see it. here i caught a garter-snake. preble says it is the same form as that at edmonton. our guide was as much surprised to see me take it in my hands, as he was to see me let it go unharmed. next morning, after a short hour's travel, we came again to salt river and proceeded to cross. evidently squirrel had selected the wrong place, for the sticky mud seemed bottomless, and we came near losing two of the horses. after two hours we all got across and went on, but most of the horses had shown up poorly, as spiritless creatures, not yet recovered from the effects of a hard winter. our road now lay over the high upland of the salt mountain, among its dry and beautiful woods. the trip would have been glorious but for the awful things that i am not allowed to mention outside of chapter ix. pierre proved a pleasant and intelligent companion; he did his best, but more than once shook his head and said: "chevaux no good." we covered 15 miles before night, and all day we got glimpses of some animal on our track, 300 yards behind in the woods. it might easily have been a wolf, but at night he sneaked into camp a forlorn and starving indian dog. next day we reached the long looked-for little buffalo river. several times of late pierre had commented on the slowness of our horses and enlarged on the awful muskega that covered the country west of the little buffalo. now he spoke out frankly and said we had been 21 days coming 40 miles when the road was good; we were now coming to very bad roads and had to go as far again. these horses could not do it, and get him back to fort smith for july 1--and back at any price he must be. he was willing to take the whole outfit half a day farther westward, or, if we preferred it, he would go afoot or on horseback with the pick of the men and horses for a hasty dash forward; but to take the whole outfit on to the buffalo country and get back on time was not possible. this was a bad shake. we held a council of war, and the things that were said of that indian should have riled him if he understood. he preserved his calm demeanour; probably this was one of the convenient times when all his english forsook him. we were simply raging: to be half-way to our goal, with abundance of provisions, fine weather, good health and everything promising well, and then to be balked because our guide wanted to go back. i felt as savage as the others, but on calmer reflection pointed out that pierre told us before starting that he must be back for treaty day, and even now he was ready to do his best. then in a calm of the storm (which he continued to ignore) pierre turned to me and said: "why don't you go back and try the canoe route? you can go down the great river to grand detour, then portage 8 miles over to the buffalo, go down this to the nyarling, then up the nyarling into the heart of the buffalo country; 21 days will do it, and it will be easy, for there is plenty of water and no rapids," and he drew a fairly exact map which showed that he knew the country thoroughly. there was nothing to be gained by going half a day farther. to break up our party did not fit in at all with our plans, so, after another brief stormy debate in which the guide took no part, we turned without crossing the little buffalo, and silently, savagely, began the homeward journey; as also did the little indian dog. next morning we crossed the salt river at a lower place where was a fine, hard bottom. that afternoon we travelled for 6 miles through a beautiful and level country, covered with a forest of large poplars, not very thick; it will some day be an ideal cattle-range, for it had rank grass everywhere, and was varied by occasional belts of jack-pine. in one of these preble found a nest with six eggs that proved to be those of the bohemian chatterer. these he secured, with photograph of the nest and old bird. it was the best find of the journey. the eggs proved of different incubation--at least a week's difference--showing that the cool nights necessitated immediate setting. we camped at salt river mouth, and next afternoon were back at fort smith, having been out five days and seen nothing, though there were tracks of moose and bear in abundance. here our guide said good-bye to us, and so did the indian dog. chapter xii bezkya and the pills during this journey i had successfully treated two of the men for slight ailments, and squirrel had made mental note of the fact. a result of it was that in the morning an old, old, black-looking indian came hobbling on a stick to my tent and, in husky chipewyan, roughly translated by billy, told me that he had pains in his head and his shoulder and his body, and his arms and his legs and his feet, and he couldn't hunt, couldn't fish, couldn't walk, couldn't eat, couldn't lie, couldn't sleep, and he wanted me to tackle the case. i hadn't the least idea of what ailed the old chap, but conveyed no hint of my darkness. i put on my very medical look and said: "exactly so. now you take these pills and you will find a wonderful difference in the morning." i had some rather fierce rhubarb pills; one was a dose but, recognising the necessity for eclat, i gave him two. he gladly gulped them down in water. the indian takes kindly to pills, it's so easy to swallow them, so obviously productive of results, and otherwise satisfactory. then, the old man hobbled off to his lodge. a few hours later he was back again, looking older and shakier than ever, his wet red eyes looking like plague spots in his ashy brown visage or like volcanic eruptions in a desert of dead lava, and in husky, clicking accents he told billy to tell the okimow that the pills were no good--not strong enough for him. "well," i said, "he shall surely have results this time." i gave him three big ones in a cup of hot tea. all the indians love tea, and it seems to help them. under its cheering power the old man's tongue was loosened. he talked more clearly, and billy, whose knowledge of chipewyan is fragmentary at best, suddenly said: "i'm afraid i made, a mistake. bezkya says the pills are too strong. can't you give him something to stop them? "goodness," i thought; "here's a predicament," but i didn't know what to do. i remembered a western adage, "when you don't know a thing to do, don't do a thing." i only said: "tell bezkya to go home, go to bed, and stay there till to-morrow, then come here again." away went the indian to his lodge. i felt rather uneasy that day and night, and the next morning looked with some eagerness for the return of bezkya. but he did not come and i began to grow unhappy. i wanted some evidence that i had not done him an injury. i wished to see him, but professional etiquette forbade me betraying myself by calling on him. noon came and no bezkya; late afternoon, and then i sallied forth, not to seek him, but to pass near his lodge, as though i were going to the hudson's bay store. and there, to my horror, about the lodge i saw a group of squaws, with shawls over their heads, whispering, together. as i went by, all turned as one of them pointed at me, and again they whispered. "oh, heavens!" i thought; "i've killed the old man." but still i would not go in. that night i did not sleep for worrying about it. next morning i was on the point of sending billy to learn the state of affairs, when who should come staggering up but old bezkya. he was on two crutches now, his complexion was a dirty gray, and his feeble knees were shaking, but he told billy--yes, unmistakably this time--to tell the okimow that that was great medicine i had given him, and he wanted a dose just like it for his wife. chapter xiii fort smith and the social queen several times during our river journey i heard reference to an extraordinary woman in the lower country, one who gave herself great airs, put on style, who was so stuck up, indeed, that she had "two pots, one for tea, one for coffee." such incredible pomposity and arrogance naturally invited sarcastic comment from all the world, and i was told i should doubtless see this remarkable person at fort smith. after the return from buffalo hunt no. 2, and pending arrangements for hunt no. 3, 1 saw more of fort smith than i wished for, but endeavoured to turn the time to account by copying out interesting chapters from the rough semi-illegible, perishable manuscript accounts of northern life called "old-timers." the results of this library research work appear under the chapter heads to which they belong. at each of these northern posts there were interesting experiences in store for me, as one who had read all the books of northern travel and dreamed for half a lifetime of the north; and that was--almost daily meeting with famous men. i suppose it would be similar if one of these men were to go to london or washington and have some one tell him: that gentle old man there is lord roberts, or that meek, shy, retiring person is speaker cannon; this on the first bench is lloyd-george, or that with the piercing eyes is aldrich, the uncrowned king of america. so it was a frequent and delightful experience to meet with men whose names have figured in books of travel for a generation. this was roderick macfarlane, who founded fort anderson, discovered the macfarlane rabbit, etc.; here was john schott, who guided caspar whitney; that was hanbury's head man; here was murdo mckay, who travelled with warburton pike in the barrens and starved with him on peace river; and so with many more. very few of these men had any idea of the interest attaching to their observations. their notion of values centres chiefly on things remote from their daily life. it was very surprising to see how completely one may be outside of the country he lives in. thus i once met a man who had lived sixteen years in northern ontario, had had his chickens stolen every year by foxes, and never in his life had seen a fox. i know many men who live in wolf country, and hear them at least every week, but have never seen one in twenty years' experience. quite recently i saw a score of folk who had lived in the porcupiniest part of the adirondacks for many summers and yet never saw a porcupine, and did not know what it was when i brought one into their camp. so it was not surprising to me to find that although living in a country that swarmed with moose, in a village which consumes at least a hundred moose per annum, there were at fort smith several of the hudson's bay men that had lived on moose meat all their lives and yet had never seen a live moose. it sounds like a new yorker saying he had never seen a stray cat. but i was simply dumfounded by a final development in the same line. quite the most abundant carpet in the forest here is the uva-ursi or bear-berry. its beautiful evergreen leaves and bright red berries cover a quarter of the ground in dry woods and are found in great acre beds. it furnishes a staple of food to all wild things, birds and beasts, including foxes, martens, and coyotes; it is one of the most abundant of the forest products, and not one hundred yards from the fort are solid patches as big as farms, and yet when i brought in a spray to sketch it one day several of the hudson's bay officers said: "where in the world did you get that? it must be very rare, for i never yet saw it in this country." a similar remark was made about a phoebe-bird. "it was never before seen in the country"; and yet there is a pair nesting every quarter of a mile from athabaska landing to great slave lake. fort smith, being the place of my longest stay, was the scene of my largest medical practice. one of my distinguished patients here was jacob mckay, a half-breed born on red river in 1840. he left there in 1859 to live 3 years at rat portage. then he went to norway house, and after 3 years moved to athabaska in 1865. in 1887 he headed a special government expedition into the barren grounds to get some baby musk-ox skins. he left fort rae, april 25, 1887, and, travelling due north with dogrib indians some 65 miles, found musk-ox on may 10, and later saw many hundreds. they killed 16 calves for their pelts, but no old ones. mckay had to use all his influence to keep the indians from slaughtering wholesale; indeed, it was to restrain them that he was sent. he now lives at fort resolution. one morning the chief came and said he wanted me to doctor a sick woman in his lodge. i thought sick women a good place for an amateur to draw the line, but squirrel did not. "il faut venir; elle est bien malade." at length i took my pill-kit and followed him. around his lodge were a score of the huge sled dogs, valuable animals in winter, but useless, sullen, starving, noisy nuisances all summer. if you kick them out of your way, they respect you; if you pity them, they bite you. they respected us. we entered the lodge, and there sitting by the fire were two squaws making moccasins. one was old and ugly as sin; the second, young and pretty as a brown fawn. i looked from one to the other in doubt, and said: "laquelle est la malade?" then the pretty one replied in perfect english: "you needn't talk french here; i speak english,' which she certainly did. french is mostly used, but the few that speak english are very proud of it and are careful to let you know. "are you ill?" i asked. "the chief thinks i am," was the somewhat impatient reply, and she broke down in a coughing fit. "how long have you had that?" i said gravely. "what?" i tapped my chest for reply. "oh! since last spring." "and you had it the spring before, too, didn't you?" "why, yes! (a pause). but that isn't what bothers me." "isn't your husband kind to you?" "yes--sometimes." "is this your husband?" "no! f----b----is; i am k-----." again she was interrupted by coughing. "would you like something to ease that cough?" i asked. "no! it isn't the body that's sick; it's the heart." "do you wish to tell me about it?" "i lost my babies." "'when?" "two years ago. i had two little ones, and both died in one month. i am left much alone; my husband is away on the transport; our lodge is nearby. the chief has all these dogs; they bark at every little thing and disturb me, so i lie awake all night and think about my babies. but that isn't the hardest thing." "what is it?" she hesitated, then burst out: "the tongues of the women. you don't know what a hell of a place this is to live in. the women here don't mind their work; they sit all day watching for a chance to lie about their neighbours. if i am seen talking to you now, a story will be made of it. if i walk to the store for a pound of tea, a story is made of that. if i turn my head, another story; and everything is carried to my husband to make mischief. it is nothing but lies, lies, lies, all day, all night, all year. women don't do that way in your country, do they?" "no," i replied emphatically. "if any woman in my country were to tell a lie to make another woman unhappy, she would be thought very, very wicked." "i am sure of it," she said. "i wish i could go to your country and be at rest." she turned to her work and began talking to the others in chipewyan. now another woman entered. she was dressed in semi-white style, and looked, not on the ground, as does an indian woman, on seeing a strange man, but straight at me. "bon jour, madame," i said. "i speak ingliss," she replied with emphasis. "indeed! and what is your name?" "i am madame x-------." and now i knew i was in the presence of the stuckup social queen. after some conversation she said: "i have some things at home you like to see." "where is your lodge?" i asked. "lodge," she replied indignantly; "i have no lodge. i know ze indian way. i know ze half-breed way. i know ze white man's way. i go ze white man's way. i live in a house--and my door is painted blue." i went to her house, a 10 by 12 log cabin; but the door certainly was painted blue, a gorgeous sky blue, the only touch of paint in sight. inside was all one room, with a mud fireplace at one end and some piles of rags in the corners for beds, a table, a chair, and some pots. on the walls snow-shoes, fishing-lines, dried fish in smellable bunches, a portrait of the okapi from outing, and a musical clock that played with painful persistence the first three bars of "god save the king." everywhere else were rags, mud, and dirt. "you see, i am joost like a white woman," said the swarthy queen. "i wear boots (she drew her bare brown feet and legs under her) and corsets. zey are la," and she pointed to the wall, where, in very truth, tied up with a bundle of dried fish, were the articles in question. not simply boots and corsets, but high-heeled louis quinze slippers and french corsets. i learned afterward how they were worn. when she went shopping to the h. b. co. store she had to cross the "parade" ground, the great open space; she crowded her brown broad feet into the slippers, then taking a final good long breath she strapped on the fearfully tight corsets outside of all. now she hobbled painfully across the open, proudly conscious that the eyes of the world were upon her. once in the store she would unhook the corsets and breathe comfortably till the agonized triumphant return parade was in order. this, however, is aside; we are still in the home of the queen. she continued to adduce new evidences. "i am just like a white woman. i call my daughter darrr-leeng." then turning to a fat, black-looking squaw by the fire, she said: "darrr-leeng, go fetch a pail of vaw-taire." but darling, if familiar with that form of address, must have been slumbering, for she never turned or moved a hair's-breadth or gave a symptom of intelligence. now, at length it transpired that the social leader wished to see me professionally. "it is ze nairves," she explained. "zere is too much going on in this village. i am fatigue, very tired. i wish i could go away to some quiet place for a long rest." it was difficult to think of a place, short of the silent tomb, that would be obviously quieter than fort smith. so i looked wise, worked on her faith with a pill, assured her that she would soon feel much better, and closed the blue door behind me. with chief squirrel, who had been close by in most of this, i now walked back to my tent. he told me of many sick folk and sad lodges that needed me. it seems that very few of these people are well. in spite of their healthy forest lives they are far less sound than an average white community. they have their own troubles, with the white man's maladies thrown in. i saw numberless other cases of dreadful, hopeless, devastating diseases, mostly of the white man's importation. it is heart-rending to see so much human misery and be able to do nothing at all for it, not even bring a gleam of hope. it made me feel like a murderer to tell one after another, who came to me covered with cankerous bone-eating sores, "i can do nothing"; and i was deeply touched by the simple statement of the chief pierre squirrel, after a round of visits: "you see how unhappy we are, how miserable and sick. when i made this treaty with your government, i stipulated that we should have here a policeman and a doctor; instead of that you have sent nothing but missionaries." chapter xiv rabbits and lynxes in the north-west there are no rabbits in the north-west. this statement, far from final, is practically true to-day, but i saw plenty of lynxes, and one cannot write of ducks without mentioning water. all wild animals fluctuate greatly in their population, none more so than the snowshoe or white-rabbit of the north-west. this is rabbit history as far back as known: they are spread over some great area; conditions are favourable; some unknown influence endows the females with unusual fecundity; they bear not one, but two or three broods in a season, and these number not 2 or 3, but 8 or 10 each brood. the species increases far beyond the powers of predaceous birds or beasts to check, and the rabbits after 7 or 8 years of this are multiplied into untold millions. on such occasions every little thicket has a rabbit in it; they jump out at every 8 or 10 feet; they number not less than 100 to the acre on desirable ground, which means over 6,000 to the square mile, and a region as large as alberta would contain not less than 100,000,000 fat white bunnies. at this time one man can readily kill 100 or 200 rabbits in a day, and every bird and beast of prey is slaughtering rabbits without restraint. still they increase. finally, they are so extraordinarily superabundant that they threaten their own food supply as well as poison all the ground. a new influence appears on the scene; it is commonly called the plague, though it is not one disease but many run epidemic riot, and, in a few weeks usually, the rabbits are wiped out. this is an outline of the established routine in rabbit vital statistics. it, of course, varies greatly in every detail, including time and extent of territory involved, and when the destruction is complete it is an awful thing for the carnivores that have lived on the bunny millions and multiplied in ratio with their abundance. of all the northern creatures none are more dependent on the rabbits than is the canada lynx. it lives on rabbits, follows the rabbits, thinks rabbits, tastes like rabbits, increases with them, and on their failure dies of starvation in the unrabbited woods. it must have been a hibernian familiar with the north that said: "a lynx is nothing but an animated rabbit anyway." the rabbits of the mackenzie river valley reached their flood height in the winter of 1903-4. that season, it seems, they actually reached billions. late the same winter the plague appeared, but did not take them at one final swoop. next winter they were still numerous, but in 1907 there seemed not one rabbit left alive in the country. all that summer we sought for them and inquired for them. we saw signs of millions in the season gone by; everywhere were acres of saplings barked at the snow-line; the floor of the woods, in all parts visited, was pebbled over with pellets; but we saw not one woodrabbit and heard only a vague report of 3 that an indian claimed he had seen in a remote part of the region late in the fall. then, since the lynx is the logical apex of a pyramid of rabbits, it naturally goes down when the rabbits are removed. these bobtailed cats are actually starving and ready to enter any kind of a trap or snare that carries a bait. the slaughter of lynxes in its relation to the rabbit supply is shown by the h. b. company fur returns as follows: in 1900, number of skins taken 4,473 " 1901 " 5,781 " 1902 " 9,117 " 1903 " 19,267 " 1904 " 36,116 " 1905 " 58,850 " 1906 " 61,388 " 1907 " 36,201 " 1908 " 9,664 remembering, then, that the last of the rabbits were wiped out in the winter of 1906-7, it will be understood that there were thousands of starving lynxes roaming about the country. the number that we saw, and their conditions, all helped to emphasise the dire story of plague and famine. some of my notes are as follows: may 18th, athabaska river, on roof of a trapper's hut found the bodies of 30 lynxes. may 19th, young lynx shot to-day, female, very thin, weighed only 12 1/2 lbs., should have weighed 25. in its stomach nothing but the tail of a white-footed mouse. liver somewhat diseased. in its bowels at least one tapeworm. june 3d, a young male lynx shot to-day by one of the police boys, as previously recorded. starving; it weighed only 15 lbs. june 6th, adult female lynx killed, weighed 15 lbs.; stomach contained a redsquirrel, a chipmunk, and a bog-lemming. (synaptomys borealis.) june 18th, young male lynx, weight 13 lbs., shot by preble on smith landing; had in its stomach a chipmunk (borealis) and 4 small young of the same, apparently a week old; also a score of pinworms. how did it get the chipmunk family without digging them out? june 26th, on salt mt. found the dried-up body of a lynx firmly held in a bear trap. june 29th, one of the jarvis bear-cub skins was destroyed by the dogs, except a dried-up paw, which he threw out yesterday. this morning one of the men shot a starving lynx in camp. its stomach contained nothing but the bear paw thrown out last night. these are a few of my observations; they reflect the general condition--all were starving. not one of them had any rabbit in its stomach; not one had a bellyful; none of the females were bearing young this year. to embellish these severe and skeletal notes, i add some incidents supplied by various hunters of the north. let us remember that the lynx is a huge cat weighing 25 to 35 or even 40 lbs., that it is an ordinary cat multiplied by some 4 or 5 diameters, and we shall have a good foundation for comprehension. murdo mckay has often seen 2 or 3 lynxes together in march, the mating season. they fight, and caterwaul like a lot of tomcats. the uncatlike readiness of the lynx to take to water is well known; that it is not wholly at home there is shown by the fact that if one awaits a lynx at the landing he is making for, he will not turn aside in the least, but come right on to land, fight, and usually perish. the ancient feud between cat and dog is not forgotten in the north, for the lynx is the deadly foe of the fox and habitually kills it when there is soft snow and scarcity of easier prey. its broad feet are snowshoes enabling it to trot over the surface on reynard's trail. the latter easily runs away at first, but sinking deeply at each bound, his great speed is done in 15 or 6 miles; the lynx keeps on the same steady trot and finally claims its victim. john bellecourt related that in the january of 1907, at a place 40 miles south of smith landing, he saw in the snow where a lynx bad run down and devoured a fox. a contribution by t. anderson runs thus: in late march, 1907, an indian named amil killed a caribou near fort rae. during his absence a lynx came along and gorged itself with the meat, then lay down alongside to sleep. a silver fox came next; but the lynx sprang on him and killed him. when amil came back he found the fox and got a large sum for the skin; one shoulder was torn. he did not see the lynx but saw the tracks. the same old-timer is authority for a case in which the tables were turned. a desert indian on the headwaters of the gatineau went out in the early spring looking for beaver. at a well-known pond he saw a lynx crouching on a log, watching the beaver hole in the ice. the indian waited. at length a beaver came up cautiously and crawled out to a near bunch of willows; the lynx sprang, but the beaver was well under way and dived into the hole with the lynx hanging to him. after a time the indian took a crotched pole and fished about under the ice; at last he found something soft and got it out; it was the lynx drowned. belalise ascribes another notable achievement to this animal. one winter when hunting caribou near fond du lac with an indian named tenahoo (human tooth), they saw a lynx sneaking along after some caribou; they saw it coming but had not sense enough to run away. it sprang on the neck of a young buck; the buck bounded away with the lynx riding, but soon fell dead. the hunters came up; the lynx ran off. there was little blood and no large wound on the buck; probably its neck was broken. the indian said the lynx always kills with its paw, and commonly kills deer. david macpherson corroborates this and maintains that on occasion it will even kill moose. in southern settlements, where the lynx is little known, it is painted as a fearsome beast of limitless ferocity, strength, and activity. in the north, where it abounds and furnishes staple furs and meat, it is held in no such awe. it is never known to attack man. it often follows his trail out of curiosity, and often the trapper who is so followed gets the lynx by waiting in ambush; then it is easily killed with a charge of duck-shot. when caught in a snare a very small club is used to "add it to the list." it seems tremendously active among logs and brush piles, but on the level ground its speed is poor, and a good runner can overtake one in a few hundred yards. david macpherson says that last summer he ran down a lynx on a prairie of willow river (mackenzie), near providence. it had some 90 yards start; he ran it down in about a mile, then it turned to fight and he shot it. other instances have been recorded, and finally, as noted later, i was eye-witness of one of these exploits. since the creature can be run down on hard ground, it is not surprising to learn that men on snow-shoes commonly pursue it successfully. as long as it trots it is safe, but when it gets alarmed and bounds it sinks and becomes exhausted. it runs in a circle of about a mile, and at last takes to a tree where it is easily killed. at least one-third are taken in this way; it requires half an hour to an hour, there must be soft snow, and the lynx must be scared so he leaps; then he sinks; if not scared he glides along on his hairy snow-shoes, refuses to tree, and escapes in thick woods, where the men cannot follow quickly. chapter xv ebb and flow of animal life throughout this voyage we were struck by the rarity of some sorts of animals and the continual remarks that three, five, or six years ago these same sorts were extremely abundant; and in some few cases the conditions were reversed. for example, during a week spent at fort smith, preble had out a line of 50 mouse-traps every night and caught only one shrew and one meadowmouse in the week. four years before he had trapped on exactly the same ground, catching 30 or 40 meadowmice every night. again, in 1904 it was possible to see 100 muskrats any fine evening. in 1907, though continually on the lookout, i saw less than a score in six months. redsquirrels varied in the same way. of course, the rabbits themselves were the extreme case, millions in 1904, none at all in 1907. the present, then, was a year of low ebb. the first task was to determine whether this related to all mammalian life. apparently not, because deermice, lynxes, beaver, and caribou were abundant. yet these are not their maximum years; the accounts show them to have been so much more numerous last year. there is only one continuous statistical record of the abundance of animals, that is the returns of the fur trade. these have been kept for over 200 years, and if we begin after the whole continent was covered by fur-traders, they are an accurate gauge of the abundance of each species. obviously, this must be so, for the whole country is trapped over every year, all the furs are marketed, most of them through the hudson's bay company, and whatever falls into other hands is about the same percentage each year, therefore the h. b. co. returns are an accurate gauge of the relative rise and fall of the population. through the courtesy of its officials i have secured the company's returns for the 85 years--1821-1905 inclusive. i take 1821 as the starting-point, as that was the first year when the whole region was covered by the hudson's bay company to the exclusion of all important rivals. first, i have given these accounts graphic tabulation, and at once many interesting facts are presented to the eye. the rabbit line prior to 1845 is not reliable. its subsequent close coincidence with that of lynx, marten, skunk, and fox is evidently cause and effect. the mink coincides fairly well with skunk and marten. the muskrat's variation probably has relation chiefly to the amount of water, which, as is well known, is cyclic in the north-west. the general resemblance of beaver and otter lines may not mean anything. if, as said, the otter occasionally preys on the beaver, these lines should in some degree correspond. the wolf line does not manifest any special relationship and seems to be in a class by itself. the great destruction from 1840 to 1870 was probably due to strychnine, newly introduced about then. the bear, badger, and wolverine go along with little variation. probably the coon does the same; the enormous rise in 1867 from an average of 3,500 per annum. to 24,000 was most likely a result of accidental accumulation and not representative of any special abundance. finally, each and every line manifests extraordinary variability in the '30's. it is not to be supposed that the population fluctuated so enormously from one year to another, but rather that the facilities for export were irregular. the case is further complicated by the fact that some of the totals represent part of this year and part of last; nevertheless, upon the whole, the following general principles are deducible: (a) the high points for each species are with fair regularity 10 years apart. (b) in the different species these are not exactly coincident. (c) to explain the variations we must seek not the reason for the increase--that is normal--but for the destructive agency that ended the increase. this is different in three different groups. first. the group whose food and enemies fluctuate but little. the only examples of this on our list are the muskrat and beaver, more especially the muskrat. its destruction seems to be due to a sudden great rise of the water after the ice has formed, so that the rats are drowned; or to a dry season followed by severe frost, freezing most ponds to the bottom, so that the rats are imprisoned and starve to death, or are forced out to cross the country in winter, and so are brought within the power of innumerable enemies. how tremendously this operates may be judged by these facts. in 1900 along the mackenzie i was assured one could shoot 20 muskrats in an hour after sundown. next winter the flood followed the frost and the rats seemed to have been wiped out. in 1907 1 spent 6 months outdoors in the region and saw only 17 muskrats the whole time; in 1901 the h. b. co. exported over 11 millions; in 1907, 407,472. the fact that they totalled as high was due, no doubt, to their abundance in eastern regions not affected by the disaster. second. the group that increases till epidemic disease attacks their excessively multiplied hordes. the snowshoe-rabbit is the only well-known case today, but there is reason for the belief that once the beaver were subjected to a similar process. concerning the mice and lemmings, i have not complete data, but they are believed to multiply and suffer in the same, way. third. the purely carnivorous, whose existence is dependent on the rabbits. this includes chiefly the lynx and fox, but in less degree all the small carnivores. in some cases such as the marten, over-feeding seems as inimical to multiplication as under-feeding, and it will be seen that each year of great increase for this species coincided with a medium year for rabbits. but the fundamental and phenomenal case is that of the rabbits themselves. and in solving this we are confronted by the generally attested facts that when on the increase they have two or three broods each season and 8 to 10 in a brood; when they are decreasing they have but one brood and only 2 or 3 in that. this points to some obscure agency at work; whether it refers simply to the physical vigour of the fact, or to some uncomprehended magnetic or heliological cycle, is utterly unknown. the practical consideration for the collecting naturalist is this: beaver, muskrat, otter, fisher, raccoon, badger, wolverine, wolf, marten, fox reached the low ebb in 1904-5. all are on the upgrade; presumably the same applies to the small rodents. their decacycle will be complete in 1914-15, so that 1910-11 should be the years selected by the next collecting naturalist who would visit the north. for those who will enter before that there is a reasonable prospect of all these species in fair numbers, except perhaps the lynx and the caribou. evidently the former must be near minimum now (1909) and the latter would be scarce, if it is subject to the rule of the decacycle, though it is not at all proven that such is the case. chapter xvi the pelican trip we were still held back by the dilatory ways of our indian friends, so to lose no time preble and i determined to investigate a pelican rookery. most persons associate the name pelican with tropic lands and fish, but ornithologists have long known that in the interior of the continent the great white pelican ranges nearly or quite to the arctic circle. the northmost colony on record was found on an island of great slave lake (see preble, "n.a. fauna," 27), but this is a very small one. the northmost large colony, and the one made famous by travellers from alexander mackenzie downward, is on the great island that splits the smith rapids above fort smith. here, with a raging flood about their rocky citadel, they are safe from all spoilers that travel on the earth; only a few birds of the air need they fear, and these they have strength to repel. on june 22 we set out to explore this. preble, billy, and myself, with our canoe on a wagon, drove 6 miles back on the landing trail and launched the canoe on the still water above mountain portage. pelican island must be approached exactly right, in the comparatively slow water above the rocky island, for 20 feet away on each side is an irresistible current leading into a sure-death cataract. but billy was a river pilot and we made the point in safety. drifted like snow through the distant woods were the brooding birds, but they arose before we were near and sailed splendidly overhead in a sweeping, wide-fronted rank. as nearly as i could number them, there were 120, but evidently some were elsewhere, as this would not allow a pair to each nest. we landed safely and found the nests scattered among the trees and fallen timbers. one or two mother birds ran off on foot, but took wing as soon as clear of the woods--none remained. the nests numbered 77, and there was evidence of others long abandoned. there were 163 eggs, not counting 5 rotten ones, lying outside; nearly all had 2 eggs in the nest; 3 had 4; 5 had 3; 4 had 1. one or two shells were found in the woods, evidently sucked by gulls or ravens. all in the nests were near hatching. one little one had his beak out and was uttering a hoarse chirping; a dozen blue-bottle flies around the hole in the shell were laying their eggs in it and on his beak., this led us to examine all the nests that the flies were buzzing around, and in each case (six) we found the same state of affairs, a young one with his beak out and the flies "blowing" around it. all of these were together in one corner, where were a dozen nests, probably another colony of earlier arrival. we took about a dozen photos of the place (large and small). then i set my camera with the long tube to get the old ones, and we went to lunch at the other end of the island. it was densely wooded and about an acre in extent, so we thought we should be forgotten. the old ones circled high overhead but at last dropped, i thought, back to the nests. after an hour and a half i returned to the ambush; not a pelican was there. two ravens flew high over, but the pelicans were far away, and all as when we went away, leaving the young to struggle or get a death-chill as they might. so much for the pious pelican, the emblem of reckless devotion--a common, dirty little cock sparrow would put them all to shame. we brought away only the 5 rotten eggs. about half of the old pelicans had horns on the bill. on the island we saw a flock of white-winged crossbills and heard a song-sparrow. gulls were seen about. the white spruce cones littered the ground and were full of seed, showing that no redsquirrel was on the island. we left successfully by dashing out exactly as we came, between the two dangerous currents, and got well away. chapter xvii the third buffalo hunt the indians are simply large children, and further, no matter how reasonable your proposition, they take a long time to consider it and are subject to all kinds of mental revulsion. so we were lucky to get away from fort smith on july 4 with young francois bezkya as guide. he was a full-blooded chipewyan indian, so full that he had knowledge of no other tongue, and billy had to be go-between. bezkya, the son of my old patient, came well recommended as a good man and a moose-hunter. a "good man" means a strong, steady worker, as canoeman or portager. he may be morally the vilest outcast unhung; that in no wise modifies the phrase "he is a good man." but more: the present was a moosehunter; this is a wonderfully pregnant phrase. moose-hunting by fair stalking is the pinnacle of woodcraft. the crees alone, as a tribe, are supposed to be masters of the art; but many of the chipewyans are highly successful. one must be a consummate trailer, a good shot, have tireless limbs and wind and a complete knowledge of the animal's habits and ways of moving and thinking. one must watch the wind, without ceasing, for no hunter has the slightest chance of success if once the moose should scent him. this last is fundamental, a three-times sacred principle. not long ago one of these chipewyans went to confessional. although a year had passed since last he got cleaned up, he could think of nothing to confess. oh! spotless soul! however, under pressure of the priest, he at length remembered a black transgression. the fall before, while hunting, he went to the windward of a thicket that seemed likely to hold his moose, because on the lee, the proper side, the footing happened to be very bad, and so he lost his moose. yes! there was indeed a dark shadow on his recent past. a man may be a good hunter, i.e., an all-round trapper and woodman, but not a moose-hunter. at fort smith are two or three scores of hunters, and yet i am told there are only three moose-hunters. the phrase is not usually qualified; he is, or is not, a moose-hunter. just as a man is, or is not, an oxford m.a. the force, then, of the phrase appears, and we were content to learn that young bezkya, besides knowing the buffalo country, was also a good man and a moose-hunter. we set out in two canoes, bezkya and jarvis in the small one, billy, selig, preble, and i in the large one, leaving the other police boys to make fort resolution in the h. b. steamer. being the 4th of july, the usual torrential rains set in. during the worst of it we put in at salt river village. it was amusing to see the rubbish about the doors of these temporarily deserted cabins. the midden-heaps of the cave-men are our principal sources of information about those by-gone races; the future ethnologist who discovers salt river midden-heaps will find all the usual skulls, bones, jaws, teeth, flints, etc., mixed with moccasin beads from venice, brass cartridges from new england, broken mirrors from france, eley cap-boxes from london, copper rings, silver pins, lead bullets, and pewter spoons, and interpersed with them bits of telephone wires and the fragments of gramophone discs. i wonder what they will make of the last! eight miles farther we camped in the rain, reaching the buffalo portage next morning at 10, and had everything over its 5 miles by 7 o'clock at night. it is easily set down on paper, but the uninitiated can scarcely realise the fearful toil of portaging. if you are an office man, suppose you take an angular box weighing 20 or 30 pounds; if a farmer, double the weight, poise it on your shoulders or otherwise, as you please, and carry it half a mile on a level pavement in cool, bright weather, and i am mistaken if you do not find yourself suffering horribly before the end of a quarter-mile; the last part of the trip will have been made in something like mortal agony. remember, then, that each of these portagers was carrying 150 to 250 pounds of broken stuff, not half a mile, but several miles, not on level pavement, but over broken rocks, up banks, through quagmires and brush--in short, across ground that would be difficult walking without any burden, and not in cool, clear weather, but through stifling swamps with no free hand to ease the myriad punctures of his body, face, and limbs whenever unsufficiently protected from the stingers that roam in clouds. it is the hardest work i ever saw performed by human beings; the burdens are heavier than some men will allow their horses to carry. yet all this frightful labour was cheerfully gone through by white men, half-breeds, and indians alike. they accept it as a part of their daily routine. this fact alone is enough to guarantee the industrial future of the red-man when the hunter life is no longer possible. next day we embarked on the little buffalo river, beginning what should have been and would have been a trip of memorable joys but for the awful, awful, awful--see chapter ix. the little buffalo is the most beautiful river in the whole world except, perhaps, its affluent, the nyarling. this statement sounds like the exaggeration of mere impulsive utterance. perhaps it is; but i am writing now after thinking the matter over for two and a half years, during, which time i have seen a thousand others, including the upper thames, the afton, the seine, the arno, the tiber, the iser, the spree, and the rhine. a hundred miles long is this uncharted stream; fifty feet its breadth of limpid tide; eight feet deep, crystal clear, calm, slow, and deep to the margin. a steamer could ply on its placid, unobstructed flood, a child could navigate it anywhere. the heavenly beauty of the shores, with virgin forest of fresh, green spruces towering a hundred feet on every side, or varied in open places with long rows and thick-set hedges of the gorgeous, wild, red, athabaska rose, made a stream that most canoemen, woodmen, and naturalists would think without a fault or flaw, and with every river beauty in its highest possible degree. not trees and flood alone had strenuous power to win our souls; at every point and bank, in every bend, were living creatures of the north, beaver and bear, not often seen but abundant; moose tracks showed from time to time and birds were here in thousands. rare winter birds, as we had long been taught to think them in our southern homes; here we found them in their native land and heard not a few sweet melodies, of which in faraway ontario, new jersey, and maryland we had been favoured only with promising scraps when wintry clouds were broken by the sun. nor were the old familiar ones away--flicker, sapsucker, hairy woodpecker, kingfisher, least flycatcher, alder flycatcher, robin, crow, and horned owl were here to mingle their noises with the stranger melodies and calls of lincoln sparrow, fox sparrow, olive-sided flycatcher, snipe, rusty blackbird, and bohemian waxwing. never elsewhere have i seen horned owls so plentiful. i did not know that there were so many bear and beaver left; i never was so much impressed by the inspiring raucous clamour of the cranes, the continual spatter of ducks, the cries of gulls and yellowlegs. hour after hour we paddled down that stately river adding our 3 1/2 miles to its 1 mile speed; each turn brought to view some new and lovelier aspect of bird and forest life. i never knew a land of balmier air; i never felt the piney breeze more sweet; nowhere but in the higher mountains is there such a tonic sense abroad; the bright woods and river reaches were eloquent of a clime whose maladies are mostly foreign-born. but alas! i had to view it all swaddled, body, hands, and head, like a bee-man handling his swarms. songs were muffled, scenes were dimmed by the thick, protecting, suffocating veil without which men can scarcely live. ten billion dollars would be all too small reward, a trifle totally inadequate to compensate, mere nominal recognition of the man who shall invent and realise a scheme to save this earthly paradise from this its damning pest and malediction. chapter xviii down to fundamentals at 8.30 a. m., 10 miles from the portage, we came to the clew-ee, or white fish river; at 6.30 p. m. made the sass tessi, or bear river, and here camped, having covered fully 40 miles. now for the first time we were all together, with leisure to question our guide and plan in detail. but all our mirth and hopes were rudely checked by corporal selig, who had entire charge of the commissary, announcing that there were only two days' rations left. in the dead calm that followed this bomb-shell we all did some thinking; then a rapid fire of questions demonstrated the danger of having a guide who does not speak our language. it seems that when asked how many days' rations we should take on this buffalo hunt he got the idea how many days to the buffalo. he said five, meaning five days each way and as much time as we wished there. we were still two days from our goal. now what should we do? scurry back to the fort or go ahead and trust to luck? every man present voted "go ahead on half rations." we had good, healthy appetites; half rations was veritable hardship; but our hollow insides made hearty laughing. preble disappeared as soon as we camped, and now at the right time he returned and silently threw at the cook's feet a big 6-pound pike. it was just right, exactly as it happens in the most satisfactory books and plays. it seems that he always carried a spoon-hook, and went at once to what he rightly judged the best place, a pool at the junction of the two rivers. the first time he threw he captured the big fellow. later he captured three smaller ones in the same place, but evidently there were no more. that night we had a glorious feast; every one had as much as he could eat, chiefly fish. next morning we went on 4 1/2 miles farther, then came to the mouth of the nyarling tessi, or underground river, that joins the buffalo from the west. this was our stream; this was the highway to the buffalo country. it was a miniature of the river we were leaving, but a little quicker in current. in about 2 miles we came to a rapid, but were able to paddle up. about 6 miles farther was an immense and ancient log-jamb that filled the stream from bank to bank for 190 yards. what will be the ultimate history of this jamb? it is added to each year, the floods have no power to move it, logs in water practically never rot, there is no prospect of it being removed by natural agencies. i suspect that at its head the river comes out of a succession of such things, whence its name underground river., around this jamb is an easy portage. we were far now from the haunts of any but indians on the winter hunt, so were surprised to see on this portage trail the deep imprints of a white man's boot. these were made apparently within a week, by whom i never learned. on the bank not far away we saw a lynx pursued overhead by two scolding redsquirrels. lunch consisted of what remained of the pike, but that afternoon bezkya saw two brown cranes on a meadow, and manoeuvring till they were in line killed both with one shot of his rifle at over 100 yards, the best shot i ever knew an indian to make. still, two cranes totalling 16 pounds gross is not enough meat to last five men a week, so we turned to our moosehunter. "yes, he could get a moose." he went on in the small canoe with billy; we were to follow, and if we passed his canoe leave a note. seven miles above the log-jamb, the river forked south and west; here a note from the guide sent us up the south fork; later we passed his canoe on the bank and knew that he had landed and was surely on his way "to market." what a comfortable feeling it was to remember that bezkya was a moose-hunter! we left word and travelled till 7, having come 11 miles up from the river's mouth. our supper that night was crane, a little piece of bread each, some soup, and some tea. at 10 the hunters came back empty-handed. yes, they found a fresh moose track, but the creature was so pestered by clouds of -------that he travelled continually as fast as he could against the wind. they followed all day but could not overtake him. they saw a beaver but failed to get it. no other game was found. things were getting serious now, since all our food consisted of 1 crane, 1 tin of brawn, 1 pound of bread, 2 pounds of pork, with some tea, coffee, and sugar, not more than one square meal for the crowd, and we were 5 men far from supplies, unless our hunting proved successful, and going farther every day. next morning (july 9) each man had coffee, one lady's finger of bread, and a single small slice of bacon. hitherto from choice i had not eaten bacon in this country, although it was a regular staple served at each meal. but now, with proper human perversity, i developed an extraordinary appetite for bacon. it seemed quite the most delicious gift of god to man. given bacon, and i was ready to forgo all other foods. nevertheless, we had divided the last of it. i cut my slice in two, revelled in half, then secretly wrapped the other piece in paper and hid it in the watch-pocket of my vest, thinking "the time is in sight when the whole crowd will be thankful to have that scrap of bacon among them." (as a matter of fact, they never got it, for five days later we found a starving dog and he was so utterly miserable that he conjured that scrap from the pocket next my heart.) we were face to face with something like starvation now; the game seemed to shun us and our store of victuals was done. yet no one talked of giving up or going back. we set out to reach the buffalo country, and reach it we would. that morning we got 7 little teal, so our lunch was sure, but straight teal without accompaniments is not very satisfying; we all went very hungry. and with one mind we all thought and talked about the good dinners or specially fine food we once had had. selig's dream of bliss was a porterhouse steak with a glass of foaming beer; jarvis thought champagne and roast turkey spelt heaven just then; i thought of my home breakfasts and the beaux-arts at new york; but billy said he would he perfectly happy if he could have one whole bannock all to himself. preble said nothing. chapter xix white man and red. meat, but nothing more there was plenty of hollow hilarity but no word of turning back. but hold! yes, there was. there was one visage that darkened more each day, and finally the gloomy thoughts broke forth in words from the lips of--our indian guide. his recent sullen silence was now changed to open and rebellious upbraiding. he didn't come here to starve. he could do that at home. he was induced to come by a promise of plenty of flour. "all of which was perfectly true. but," he went on, "we were still 11 days from the buffalo and we were near the head of navigation; it was a case of tramp through the swamp with our beds and guns, living on the country as we went, and if we didn't have luck the coyotes and ravens would." before we had time to discuss this prospect, a deciding step was announced, by jarvis, he was under positive orders to catch the steamer wrigley at fort resolution on the evening of july 10. it was now mid-day of july 9, and only by leaving at once and travelling all night could he cover the intervening 60 miles. so then and there we divided the remnants of food evenly, for "bezkya was a moose-hunter." then major jarvis and corporal selig boarded the smaller canoe. we shook hands warmly, and i at least had a lump in my throat; they were such good fellows in camp, and to part this way when we especially felt bound to stick together, going each of us on a journey of privation and peril, seemed especially hard; and we were so hungry. but we were living our lives. they rounded the bend, we waved goodbye, and i have never seen them since. hitherto i was a guest; now i was in sole command, and called a council of war. billy was stanch and ready to go anywhere at any cost. so was preble. bezkya was sulky and rebellious. physically, i had been at the point of a total breakdown when i left home; the outdoor life had been slowly restoring me, but the last few days had weakened me sadly and i was not fit for a long expedition on foot. but of one thing i was sure, we must halt till we got food. a high wind was blowing and promised some respite to the moose from the little enemy that sings except when he stings, so i invited bezkya to gird up his loins and make another try for moose. nothing loath, he set off with billy. i marked them well as they went, one lithe, sinewy, active, animal-eyed; the other solid and sturdy, following doggedly, keeping up by sheer blundering strength. i could not but admire them, each in his kind. two hours later i heard two shots, and toward evening the boys came back slowly, tired but happy, burdened with the meat, for bezkya was a moosehunter. many shekels and gladly would i have given to have been on that moose hunt. had i seen it i could have told it. these men, that do it so well, never can tell it. yet in the days that followed i picked up a few significant phrases that gave glimpses of its action. through the crooked land of endless swamp this son of the woods had set out "straightaway west." a big track appeared crossing a pool, seeming fresh. "no! he go by yesterday; water in track not muddy." another track was found. "yes, pretty good; see bite alder. alder turn red in two hours; only half red." follow long. "look out, billy; no go there; wrong wind. yes, he pass one hour; see bit willow still white. stop; he pass half-hour; see grass still bend. he lie down soon. how know? oh, me know. stand here, billy. he sleep in thick willow there." then the slow crawl in absolute stillness, the long wait, the betrayal of the huge beast by the ear that wagged furiously to shake off the winged bloodsuckers. the shot, the rush, the bloody trail, the pause in the opening to sense the foe, the shots from both hunters, and the death. next day we set out in the canoe for the moose, which lay conveniently on the river bank. after pushing through the alders and poling up the dwindling stream for a couple of hours we reached the place two miles up, by the stream. it was a big bull with no bell, horns only two-thirds grown but 46 inches across, the tips soft and springy; one could stick a knife through them anywhere outside of the basal half. bezkya says they are good to eat in this stage; but we had about 700 pounds of good meat so did not try. the velvet on the horns is marked by a series of concentric curved lines of white hair, across the lines of growth; these, i take it, correspond with times of check by chill or hardship. we loaded our canoe with meat and pushed on toward the buffalo country for two miles more up the river. navigation now became very difficult on account of alders in the stream. bezkya says that only a few hundred yards farther and the river comes from underground. this did not prove quite correct, for i went half a mile farther by land and found no change. here, however, we did find some buffalo tracks; one went through our camp, and farther on were many, but all dated from the spring and were evidently six weeks old. there were no recent tracks, which was discouraging, and the air of gloom over our camp grew heavier. the weather had been bad ever since we left fort smith, cloudy or showery. this morning for the first time the day dawned with a clear sky, but by noon it was cloudy and soon again raining. our diet consisted of nothing but moose meat and tea; we had neither sugar nor salt, and the craving for farinaceous food was strong and growing. we were what the. natives call "flour hungry"; our three-times-a-day prospect of moose, moose, moose was becoming loathsome. bezkya was openly rebellious once more, and even my two trusties were very, very glum. still, the thought of giving up was horrible, so i made a proposition: "bezkya, you go out scouting on, foot and see if you can locate a band. i'll give you five dollars extra if you show me one buffalo." at length he agreed to go provided i would set out for fort resolution at once unless he found buffalo near. this was leaving it all in his hands. while i was considering, preble said: "i tell you this delay is playing the mischief with our barren-ground trip; we should have started for the north ten days ago," which was in truth enough to settle the matter. i knew perfectly well beforehand what bezkya's report would be. at 6.30 he returned to say he found nothing but old tracks. there were no buffalo nearer than two days' travel on foot, and he should like to return at once to fort resolution. there was no further ground for debate; every one and everything now was against me. again i had to swallow the nauseating draught of defeat and retreat. "we start northward first thing in the morning," i said briefly, and our third buffalo hunt was over. these, then, were the results so far as buffalo were concerned: old tracks as far down as last camp, plenty of old tracks here and westward, but the buffalo, as before on so many occasions, were two days' travel to the westward. during all this time i had lost no good opportunity of impressing on the men the sinfulness of leaving a camp-fire burning and of taking life unnecessarily; and now, i learned of fruit from this seeding. that night bezkya was in a better humour, for obvious reasons; he talked freely and told me how that day he came on a large blackbear which at once took to a tree. the indian had his rifle, but thought, "i can kill him, yet i can't stop to skin him or use his meat," so left him in peace. this is really a remarkable incident, almost unique. i am glad to believe that i had something to do with causing such unusual forbearance. chapter xx on the nyarling all night it rained; in the morning it was dull, foggy, and showery. everything was very depressing, especially in view of this second defeat. the steady diet of moose and tea was debilitating; my legs trembled under me. i fear i should be a poor one to stand starvation, if so slight a brunt should play such havoc with my strength. we set out early to retrace the course of the nyarling, which in spite of associated annoyances and disappointments will ever shine forth in my memory as the "beautiful river." it is hard, indeed, for words to do it justice. the charm of a stream is always within three feet of the surface and ten feet of the bank. the broad slave, then, by its size wins in majesty but must lose most all its charm; the buffalo, being fifty feet wide, has some waste water; but the nyarling, half the size, has its birthright compounded and intensified in manifold degree. the water is clear, two or three feet deep at the edge of the grassy banks, seven to ten feet in mid-channel, without bars or obstructions except the two log-jambs noted, and these might easily be removed. the current is about one mile and a half an hour, so that canoes can readily pass up or down; the scenery varies continually and is always beautiful. everything that i have said of the little buffalo applies to the nyarling with fourfold force, because of its more varied scenery and greater range of bird and other life. sometimes, like the larger stream, it presents a long, straight vista of a quarter-mile through a solemn aisle in the forest of mighty spruce trees that tower a hundred feet in height, all black with gloom, green with health, and gray with moss. sometimes its channel winds in and out of open grassy meadows that are dotted with clumps of rounded trees, as in an english park. now it narrows to a deep and sinuous bed, through alders so rank and reaching that they meet overhead and form a shade of golden green; and again it widens out into reedy lakes, the summer home of countless ducks, geese, tattlers terns, peetweets, gulls, rails, blackbirds, and half a hundred of the lesser tribes. sometimes the foreground is rounded masses of kinnikinnik in snowy flower, or again a far-strung growth of the needle bloom, richest and reddest of its tribe--the athabaska rose. at times it is skirted by tall poplar woods where the claw-marks on the trunks are witness of the many blackbears, or some tamarack swamp showing signs and proofs that hereabouts a family of moose had fed to-day, or by a broad and broken trail that told of a buffalo band passing weeks ago. and while we gazed at scribbled records, blots, and marks, the loud "slap plong" of a beaver showed from time to time that the thrifty ones had dived at our approach. on the way up jarvis had gone first in the small canoe; he saw 2 bears, 3 beaver, and 1 lynx; i saw nothing but birds. on the way down, being alone, the luck came my way. at the first camp, after he left, we heard a loud "plong" in the water near the boat. bezkya glided to the spot; i followed--here was a large beaver swimming. the indian fired, the beaver plunged, and we saw nothing more of it. he told billy, who told me, that it was dead, because it did not slap with its tail as it went down. next night another splashed by our boat. this morning as we paddled we saw a little stream, very muddy, trickling into the river. bezkya said, "beaver at work on his dam there." now that we were really heading for flour, our indian showed up well. he was a strong paddler, silent but apparently cheerful, ready at all times to work. as a hunter and guide he was of course first class. about 10.30 we came on a large beaver sunning himself on a perch built of mud just above the water. he looked like a huge chestnut muskrat. he plunged at once but came up again yards farther down, took another look and dived, to be seen no more. at noon we reached our old camp, the last where all had been together. here we put up a monument on a tree, and were mortified to think we had not done so at our farthest camp. there were numbers of yellowlegs breeding here; we were surprised to see them resting on trees or flying from one branch to another. a great gray-owl sitting on a stump was a conspicuous feature of our landscape view; his white choker shone like a parson's. early in the morning we saw a kingbird. this was our northernmost record for the species. we pressed on all day, stopping only for our usual supper of moose and tea, and about 7 the boys were ready to go on again. they paddled till dark at 10. camped in the rain, but every one was well pleased, for we had made 40 miles that day and were that much nearer to flour. this journey had brought us down the nyarling and 15 miles down the buffalo. it rained all night; next morning the sun came out once or twice but gave it up, and clouds with rain sprinklings kept on. we had struck a long spell of wet; it was very trying, and fatal to photographic work. after a delicious, appetising, and inspiring breakfast of straight moose, without even salt, and raw tea, we pushed on along the line of least resistance, i.e., toward flour. a flock of half a dozen bohemian waxwings were seen catching flies among the tall spruce tops; probably all were males enjoying a stag party while their wives were home tending eggs or young. billy shot a female bufflehead duck; she was so small-only 8 inches in slack girth--that she could easily have entered an ordinary woodpecker hole. so that it is likely the species nest in the abandoned holes of the flicker. a redtailed hawk had its nest on a leaning spruce above the water. it was a most striking and picturesque object; doubtless the owner was very well pleased with it, but a pair of robins militant attacked him whenever he tried to go near it. a beaver appeared swimming ahead; bezkya seized his rifle and removed the top of its head, thereby spoiling a splendid skull but securing a pelt and a new kind of meat. although i was now paying his wages the beaver did not belong to me. according to the custom of the country it belonged to bezkya. he owed me nothing but service as a guide. next meal we had beaver tail roasted and boiled; it was very delicious, but rather rich and heavy. at 3.45 we reached great slave lake, but found the sea so high that it would have been very dangerous to attempt crossing to fort resolution, faintly to be seen a dozen miles away. we waited till 7, then ventured forth; it was only 11 miles across and we could send that canoe at 5 1/2 miles an hour, but the wind and waves against us were so strong that it took 3 1/2 hours to make the passage. at 10.30 we landed at resolution and pitched our tent among 30 teepees with 200 huge dogs that barked, scratched, howled, yelled, and fought around, in, and over the tent-ropes all night long. oh, how different from the tranquil woods of the nyarling! chapter xxi fort resolution and its folk early next morning preble called on his old acquaintance, chief trader c. harding, in charge of the post. whenever we have gone to h. b. co. officials to do business with them, as officers of the company, we have found them the keenest of the keen; but whenever it is their personal affair, they are hospitality out-hospitalled. they give without stint; they lavish their kindness on the stranger from the big world. in a few minutes preble hastened back to say that we were to go to breakfast at once. that breakfast, presided over by a charming woman and a genial, generous man, was one that will not be forgotten while i live. think of it, after the hard scrabble on the nyarling! we had real porridge and cream, coffee with veritable sugar and milk, and authentic butter, light rolls made of actual flour, unquestionable bacon and potatoes, with jam and toast--the really, truly things--and we had as much as we could eat! we behaved rather badly--intemperately, i fear--we stopped only when forced to do it, and yet both of us came away with appetites. it was clear that i must get some larger craft than my canoe to cross the lake from fort resolution and take the 1,300 pounds of provisions that had come on the steamer. harding kindly offered the loan of a york boat, and with the help chiefly of charlie mcleod the white man, who is interpreter at the fort, i secured a crew to man it. but oh, what worry and annoyance it was! these great slave lake indians are like a lot of spoiled and petulant children, with the added weakness of adult criminals; they are inconsistent, shiftless, and tricky. pike, whitney, buffalo jones, and others united many years ago in denouncing them as the most worthless and contemptible of the human race, and since then they have considerably deteriorated. there are exceptions, however, as will be seen by the record. one difficulty was that it became known that on the buffalo expedition bezkya had received three dollars a day, which is government emergency pay. i had agreed to pay the regular maximum, two dollars a day with presents and keep. all came and demanded three dollars. i told them they could go at once in search of the hottest place ever pictured by a diseased and perfervid human imagination. if they went there they decided not to stay, because in an hour they were back offering to compromise. i said i could run back to fort smith (it sounds like nothing) and get all the men i needed at one dollar and a half. (i should mortally have hated to try.) one by one the crew resumed. then another bombshell. i had offended chief snuff by not calling and consulting with him; he now gave it out that i was here to take out live musk-ox, which meant that all the rest would follow to seek their lost relatives. again my crew resigned. i went to see snuff. every man has his price. snuff's price was half a pound of tea; and the crew came back, bringing, however, several new modifications in our contract. taking no account of several individuals that joined a number of times but finally resigned, the following, after they had received presents, provisions, and advance pay, were the crew secured to man the york boat on the "3 or 4" days' run to pike's portage and then carry my goods to the first lake. weeso. the jesuits called him louison d'noire, but it has been corrupted into a simpler form. "weeso" they call it, "weeso" they write it, and for "weeso" you must ask, or you will not find him. so i write it as i do "sousi" and "yum," with the true local colour. he was a nice, kind, simple old rabbit, not much use and not over-strong, but he did his best, never murmuring, and in all the mutinies and rebellions that followed he remained staunch, saying simply, "i gave my word i would go, and i will go." he would make a safe guide for the next party headed for aylmer lake. he alone did not ask rations for his wife during his absence; he said, "it didn't matter about her, as they had been married for a long time now." he asked as presents a pair of my spectacles, as his eyes were failing, and a marble axe. the latter i sent him later, but he could not understand why glasses that helped me should not help him. he acted as pilot and guide, knowing next to nothing about either. francois d'noire, son of weeso, a quiet, steady, inoffensive chap, but not strong; nevertheless, having been there once with us, he is now a competent guide to take any other party as far as pike's portage. c., a sulky brute and a mischief-maker. he joined and resigned a dozen times that day, coming back on each occasion with a new demand. s., grandson of the chief, a sulky good-for-nothing; would not have him again at any price; besides the usual wages, tobacco, food, etc., he demanded extra to support his wife during his absence. the wife, i found, was a myth. t., a sulky good-for-nothing. beaulieu, an alleged grandson of his grandfather. a perpetual breeder of trouble; never did a decent day's work the whole trip. insolent, mutinous, and overbearing, till i went for him with intent to do bodily mischief; then he became extremely obsequious. like the rest of the foregoing, he resigned and resumed at irregular intervals. yum (william), freesay; the best of the lot; a bright, cheerful, intelligent, strong indian, boy. he and my old standby, billy loutit, did virtually all the handling of that big boat. any one travelling in that country should secure yum if they can. he was worth all the others put together. chapter xxii the chipewyans, their speech and writing sweeping generalisations are always misleading, therefore i offer some now, and later will correct them by specific instances. these chipewyans are dirty, shiftless, improvident, and absolutely honest. of the last we saw daily instances in crossing the country. valuables hung in trees, protected only from weather, birds, and beasts, but never a suggestion that they needed protection from mankind. they are kind and hospitable among themselves, but grasping in their dealings with white men, as already set forth. while they are shiftless and lazy, they also undertake the frightful toil of hunting and portaging. although improvident, they have learned to dry a stock of meat and put up a scaffold of white fish for winter use. as a tribe they are mild and inoffensive, although they are the original stock from which the apaches broke away some hundreds of years ago before settling in the south. they have suffered greatly from diseases imported by white men, but not from whiskey. the hudson's bay company has always refused to supply liquor to the natives. what little of the evil traffic there has been was the work of free-traders. but the royal mounted police have most rigorously and effectually suppressed this. nevertheless, chief trader anderson tells me that the mackenzie valley tribes have fallen to less than half their numbers during the last century. it is about ten, years since they made the treaty that surrendered their lands to the government. they have no reserves, but are free to hunt as their fathers did. i found several of the older men lamenting the degeneracy of their people. "our fathers were hunters and our mothers made good moccasins, but the young men are lazy loafers around the trading posts, and the women get money in bad ways to buy what they should make with their hands." the chipewyan dialects are peculiarly rasping, clicking, and guttural, especially when compared with cree. every man and woman and most of the children among them smoke. they habitually appear with a pipe in their mouth and speak without removing it, so that the words gurgle out on each side of the pipe while a thin stream goes sizzling through the stem. this additional variant makes it hopeless to suggest on paper any approach to their peculiar speech. the jesuits tell me that it was more clicked and guttural fifty years ago, but that they are successfully weeding out many of the more unpleasant catarrhal sounds. in noting down the names of animals, i was struck by the fact that the more familiar the animal the shorter its name. thus the beaver, muskrat, rabbit, and marten, on which they live, are respectively tsa, dthen, ka, and tha. the less familiar (in a daily sense) red fox and weasel are nak-ee-they, noon-dee-a, tel-ky-lay; and the comparatively scarce musk-ox and little weasel, at-huh-le-jer-ray and tel-ky-lay-azzy. all of which is clear and logical, for the name originally is a description, but the softer parts and sharp angles are worn down by the attrition of use--the more use they have for a word the shorter it is bound to get. in this connection it is significant that "to-day" is to-ho-chin-nay, and "to-morrow" kom-pay. the chipewyan teepee is very distinctive; fifty years ago all were of caribou leather, now most are of cotton; not for lack of caribou, but because the cotton does not need continual watching to save it from the dogs. of the fifty teepees at fort chipewyan, one or two only were of caribou but many had caribou-skin tops, as these are less likely to bum than those of cotton. the way they manage the smoke is very clever; instead of the two fixed flaps, as among the plains river indians, these have a separate hood which is easily set on any side (see iii). chief squirrel lives in a lodge that is an admirable combination of the white men's tent with its weather-proof roof and the indian teepee with its cosy fire. (see cut, p. 149.) not one of these lodges that i saw, here or elsewhere, had the slightest suggestion of decoration. for people who spend their whole life on or near the water these are the worst boatmen i ever saw. the narrow, thick paddle they make, compared with the broad, thin iroquois paddle, exactly expressed the difference between the two as canoemen. the chipewyan's mode of using it is to sit near the middle and make 2 or perhaps 3 strokes on one side, then change to the other side for the same, and so on. the line made by the canoes is an endless zigzag. the idea of paddling on one side so dexterously that the canoe goes straight is yet on an evolutionary pinnacle beyond their present horizon. in rowing, their way is to stand up, reach forward with the 30-pound 16 1/2-foot oar, throw all the weight on it, falling backward into the seat. after half an hour of this exhausting work they must rest 15 to 20 minutes. the long, steady, strong pull is unknown to them in every sense. their ideas of sailing a boat are childish. tacking is like washing, merely a dim possibility of their very distant future. it's a sailing wind if behind; otherwise it's a case of furl and row. by an ancient, unwritten law the whole country is roughly divided among the hunters. each has his own recognised hunting ground, usually a given river valley, that is his exclusive and hereditary property; another hunter may follow a wounded animal into it, but not begin a hunt there or set a trap upon it. most of their time is spent at the village, but the hunting ground is visited at proper seasons. fifty years ago they commonly went half naked. how they stood the insects i do not know, and when asked they merely grinned significantly; probably they doped themselves with grease. this religious training has had one bad effect. inspired with horror of being "naked" savages, they do not run any sinful risks, even to take a bath. in all the six months i was among them i never saw an indian's bare arms, much less his legs. one day after the fly season was over i took advantage of the lovely weather and water to strip off and jump into a lake by our camp; my indians modestly turned their backs until i had finished. if this mock modesty worked for morality one might well accept it, but the old folks say that it operates quite the other way. it has at all events put an end to any possibility of them taking a bath. maybe as a consequence, but of this i am not sure, none of these indians swim. a large canoe-load upset in crossing great slave lake a month after we arrived and all were drowned. like most men who lead physical lives, and like all meat-eating savages, these are possessed of a natural proneness toward strong drink. an interesting two-edged boomerang illustration of this was given by an unscrupulous whiskey trader. while travelling across country he ran short of provisions but fortunately came to a chipewyan lodge. at first its owner had no meat to spare, but when he found that the visitor had a flask of whiskey he offered for it a large piece of moose meat; when this was refused he doubled the amount, and after another refusal added some valuable furs and more meat till one hundred dollars worth was piled up. again the answer was "no." then did that indian offer the lodge and everything he had in it, including his wife. but the trader was obdurate. "why didn't you take it," said the friend whom he told of the affair; "the stuff would have netted five hundred dollars, and all for one flask of whiskey." "not much," said the trader, "it was my last flask i wouldn't 'a' had a drop for myself. but it just shows, how fond these indians are of whiskey." while some of the chipewyans show fine physique, and many do great feats of strength and endurance, they seem on the whole inferior to whites. thus the strongest portager on the river is said to be billy loutit's brother george. at athabaska landing i was shown a house on a hill, half a mile away, to which he had carried on his back 450 pounds of flour without stopping. some said it was only 350 pounds, but none made it less. as george is only three-quarters white, this is perhaps not a case in point. but during our stay at fort smith we had several athletic meets of indians and whites, the latter represented by preble and the police boys, and no matter whether in running, walking, high jumping, broad jumping, wrestling, or boxing, the whites were ahead. as rifle-shots, also, the natives seem far inferior. in the matter of moose-hunting only, as already noted, the red-man was master. this, of course, is a matter of life-long training. a white man brought up to it would probably do as well as an indian even in this very indian department. these tribes are still in the hunting and fishing stage; they make no pretence of agriculture or stockraising. except that they wear white man's clothes and are most of them nominally roman catholics, they live as their fathers did 100 years ago. but there is one remarkable circumstance that impressed me more and more--practically every chipewyan reads and writes his own language. this miracle was inborn on me slowly. on the first buffalo hunt we had found a smoothened pole stuck in the ground by the trail. it was inscribed as herewith. "what is that sousi?" "it's a notice from chief william that swiggert wants men on the portage," and he translated it literally: "the fat white man 5 scows, small white man 2 scows, gone down, men wanted for rapids, johnnie bolette this letter for you. (signed) chief william." each of our guides in succession had shown a similar familiarity with the script of his people, and many times we found spideresque characters on tree or stone that supplied valuable information. they could, however tell me nothing of its age or origin, simply "we all do it; it is easy." at fort resolution i met the jesuit fathers and got the desired chance of learning about the chipewyan script. first, it is not a true alphabet, but a syllabic; not letters, but syllables, are indicated by each character; 73 characters are all that are needed to express the whole language. it is so simple and stenographic that the fathers often use it as a rapid way of writing french. it has, however, the disadvantage of ambiguity at times. any indian boy can learn it in a week or two; practically all the indians use it. what a commentary on our own cumbrous and illogical spelling, which takes even a bright child two or three years to learn! now, i already knew something of the cree syllabic invented by the rev. james evans, methodist missionary on lake winnipeg in the '40s, but cree is a much less complex language; only 36 characters are needed, and these are so simple that an intelligent cree can learn to write his own language in one day. in support, of this astounding statement i give, first, the 36 characters which cover every fundamental sound in their language and then a sample of application. while crude and inconcise, it was so logical and simple that in a few years the missionary had taught practically the whole cree nation to read and write. and lord dufferin, when the matter came before him during his north-west tour, said enthusiastically: "there have been men buried in westminster abbey with national honours whose claims to fame were far less than those of this devoted missionary, the man who taught a whole nation to read and write." these things i knew, and now followed up my jesuit source of information. "who invented this?" "i don't know for sure. it is in general use." "was it a native idea?" "oh, no; some white man made it." "where? here or in the south?" "it came originally from the crees, as near as we can tell." "was it a cree or a missionary that first thought of it?" "i believe it was a missionary." "frankly, now, wasn't it invented in 1840 by rev. james evans, methodist missionary to the crees on lake winnipeg?" oh, how he hated to admit it, but he was too honest to deny it. "yes, it seems to me it was some name like that. 'je ne sais pas.'" reader, take a map of north america, a large one, and mark off the vast area bounded by the saskatchewan, the rockies, the hudson bay, and the arctic circle, and realise that in this region, as large as continental europe outside of russia and spain, one simple, earnest man, inspired by the love of him who alone is perfect love, invented and popularised a method of writing that in a few years--in less than a generation, indeed--has turned the whole native population from ignorant illiterates to a people who are proud to read and write their own language. this, i take it, is one of the greatest feats of a civiliser. the world has not yet heard, much less comprehended, the magnitude of the achievement; when it does there will be no name on the canadian roll of fame that will stand higher or be blazoned more brightly than that of james evans the missionary. chapter xxiii the dogs of fort resolution it sounds like the opening of an epic poem but it is not. the chipewyan calender is divided in two seasons--dog season and canoe season. what the horse is to the arab, what the reindeer is to the lap and the yak to the thibetan, the dog is to the chipewyan for at least one-half of the year, until it is displaced by the canoe. during dog season the canoes are piled away somewhat carelessly or guarded only from the sun. during canoe season the dogs are treated atrociously. let us remember, first, that these are dogs in every doggy sense, the worshipping servants of man, asking nothing but a poor living in return for abject love and tireless service, as well as the relinquishment of all family ties and natural life. in winter, because they cannot serve without good food, they are well fed on fish that is hung on scaffolds in the fall in time to be frozen before wholly spoiled. the journeys they will make and the devoted service they render at this time is none too strongly set forth in butler's "cerf vola" and london's "call of the wild." it is, indeed, the dog alone that makes life possible during the white half-year of the boreal calender. one cannot be many days in the north without hearing tales of dog prowess, devotion, and heroism. a typical incident was related as follows by thomas anderson: over thirty years ago, chief factor george mctavish and his driver, jack harvey, were travelling from east main to rupert's house (65 miles) in a blizzard so thick and fierce that they could scarcely see the leading dog. he was a splendid, vigorous creature, but all at once he lay down and refused to go. the driver struck him, but the factor reproved the man, as this dog had never needed the whip. the driver then went ahead and found open water only a few feet from the dogs, though out of sight. after that they gave the leader free rein, surrendered themselves to his guidance, and in spite of the blinding blizzard they struck the flagpole of rupert's between 11 and 12 that night, only a little behind time. many of the wild wolf traits still remain with them. they commonly pair; they bury surplus food; the mothers disgorge food for the young; they rally to defend one of their own clan against a stranger; and they punish failure with death. a thousand incidents might be adduced to show that in the north there is little possibility of winter travel without dogs and little possibility of life without winter travel. but april comes with melting snows and may with open rivers and brown earth everywhere; then, indeed, the reign of the dog is over. the long yellow-birch canoe is taken down from the shanty roof or from a sheltered scaffold, stitched, gummed, and launched; and the dogs are turned loose to fend for themselves. gratitude for past services or future does not enter into the owner's thoughts to secure a fair allowance of food. all their training and instinct prompts them to hang about camp, where, kicked, stoned, beaten, and starved, they steal and hunt as best they may, until the sad season of summer is worn away and merry winter with its toil and good food is back once more. from leaving fort macmurray we saw daily the starving dog, and i fed them when i could. at smith landing the daily dog became a daily fifty. one big fellow annexed us. "i found them first," he seemed to say, and no other dog came about our camp without a fight. of course he fared well on our scraps, but many a time it made my heart ache and my food-store suffer to see the gaunt skeletons in the bushes, just beyond his sphere of influence, watching for a chance to rush in and secure a mouthful of--anything to stay the devastating pang. my journal of the time sets forth in full detail the diversity of their diet, not only every possible scrap of fish and meat or whatsoever smelled of fish or meat, but rawhide, leather, old boots, flour-bags, potato-peelings, soap, wooden fragments of meat-boxes, rags that have had enough animal contact to be odorous. an ancient dishcloth, succulent with active service, was considered a treat to be bolted whole; and when in due course the cloth was returned to earth, it was intact, bleached, purged, and purified as by chemic fires and ready for a new round of benevolences. in some seasons the dogs catch rabbits enough to keep them up. but this year the rabbits were gone. they are very clever at robbing fish-nets at times, but these were far from the fort. reduced to such desperate straits for food, what wonder that cannibalism should be common! not only the dead, but the sick or disabled of their own kind are torn to pieces and devoured. i was told of one case where a brutal driver disabled one of his dogs with heavy blows; its companions did not wait till it was dead before they feasted. it is hard to raise pups because the mothers so often devour their own young; and this is a charge i never heard laid to the wolf, the ancestor of these dogs, which shows how sadly the creature has been deteriorated by contact with man. there seems no length to which they will not go for food. politeness forbids my mentioning the final diet for which they scramble around the camp. never in my life before have i seen such utter degradation by the power of the endless hunger pinch. nevertheless--and here i expect the reader to doubt, even as i did when first i heard it, no matter how desperate their straits-these gormandisers of unmentionable filth, these starvelings, in their dire extremity will turn away in disgust from duck or any other web-footed water-fowl. billy loutit had shot a pelican; the skin was carefully preserved and the body guarded for the dogs, thinking that this big thing, weighing 6 or 7 pounds, would furnish a feast for one or two. the dogs knew me, and rushed like a pack of wolves at sight of coming food. the bigger ones fought back the smaller. i threw the prize, but, famished though they were, they turned away as a man might turn from a roasted human hand. one miserable creature, a mere skeleton, sneaked forward when the stronger ones were gone, pulled out the entrails at last, and devoured them as though he hated them. i can offer no explanation. but the hudson's bay men tell me it is always so, and i am afraid the remembrance of the reception accorded my bounty that day hardened my heart somewhat in the days that followed. on the nyarling we were too far from mankind to be bothered with dogs, but at fort resolution we reentered their country. the following from my journal records the impression after our enforced three days' stay: "tuesday, july 16, 1907.--fine day for the first time since july 3. at last we pulled out of fort resolution (9.40 a. m.). i never was so thankful to leave a place where every one was kind. i think the maddest cynophile would find a cure here. it is the worst dog-cursed spot i ever saw; not a square yard but is polluted by them; no article can be left on the ground but will be carried off, torn up, or defiled; the four corners of our tent have become regular stopping places for the countless canines, and are disfigured and made abominable, so that after our escape there will be needed many days of kindly rain for their purification. there certainly are several hundred dogs in the village; there are about 50 teepees and houses with 5 to 15 dogs at each, and 25 each at the mission and h. b. co. in a short walk, about 200 yards, i passed 86 dogs. "there is not an hour or ten minutes of day or night that is not made hideous with a dog-fight or chorus of yelps. there are about six different clans of dogs, divided as their owners are, and a dogrib dog entering the yellow-knife or chipewyan part of the camp is immediately set upon by all the residents. now the clansmen of the one in trouble rush to the rescue and there is a battle. indians of both sides join in with clubs to belabour the fighters, and the yowling and yelping of those discomfited is painful to hear for long after the fight is over. it was a battle like this, i have been told, which caused the original split of the tribe, one part of which went south to become the apaches of arizona. the scenes go on all day and all night in different forms. a number of dogs are being broken in by being tied up to stakes. these keep up a heart-rending and peculiar crying, beginning with a short bark which melts into a yowl and dies away in a nerve-racking wail. this ceases not day or night, and half a dozen of these prisoners are within a stone's throw of our camp. "the favourite place for the clan fights seems to be among the guy-ropes of our tent; at least half a dozen of these general engagements take place every night while we try to sleep. "everything must be put on the high racks eight feet up to be safe from them; even empty tins are carried off, boots, hats, soap, etc., are esteemed most toothsome morsels, and what they can neither eat, carry off, nor destroy, they defile with elaborate persistency and precision." a common trick of the indians when canoe season arrives is, to put all the family and one or two of the best dogs in the canoes, then push away from the shore, leaving the rest behind. those so abandoned come howling after the canoes, and in unmistakable pleadings beg the heartless owners to take them in. but the canoes push off toward the open sea, aiming to get out of sight. the dogs howl sadly on the shore, or swim after them till exhausted, then drift back to the nearest land to begin the summer of hardship. if rabbits are plentiful they get along; failing these they catch mice or fish; when the berry season comes they eat fruit; the weaker ones are devoured by their brethren; and when the autumn arrives their insensate owners generally manage to come back and pick up the survivors, feeding them so that they are ready for travel when dog-time begins, and the poor faithful brutes, bearing no grudge, resume at once the service of their unfeeling masters. all through our voyage up great slave lake we daily heard the sad howling of abandoned dogs, and nightly, we had to take steps to prevent them stealing our food and leathers. more than once in the dim light, i was awakened by a rustle, to see sneaking from my tent the gray, wolfish form of some prowling dog, and the resentment i felt at the loss inflicted, was never more than to make me shout or throw a pebble at him. one day, as we voyaged eastward (july 23) in the tal-thel-lay narrows of great slave lake, we met 5 canoes and 2 york boats of indians going west. a few hours afterward as, we were nooning on an island (we were driven to the islands now) there came a long howling from the rugged main shore, a mile away to the east of us; then it increased to a chorus of wailing, and we knew that the indians had that morning abandoned their dogs there. the wailing continued, then we saw a tiny black speck coming from the far shore. when it was half-way across the ice-cold bay we could hear the gasps of a tired swimmer. he got along fairly, dodging the cakes of ice, until within about 200 yards, when his course was barred by a long, thin, drifting floe. he tried to climb on it, but was too weak, then he raised his voice in melancholy howls of despair. i could not get to him, but he plucked up heart at length, and feebly paddling went around till he found an opening, swam through and came on, the slowest dog swimmer i ever saw. at last he struck bottom and crawled out. but he was too weak and ill to eat the meat that i had ready prepared for him. we left him with food for many days and sailed away. another of the dogs that tried to follow him across was lost in the ice; we heard his miserable wailing moans as he was carried away, but could not help him. my indians thought nothing of it and were amused at my solicitude. a couple of hours later we landed on the rugged east coast to study our course through the ice. at once., we were met by four dogs that trotted along the shore to where we landed. they did not seem very gaunt; one, an old yellow female, carried something in her mouth; this she never laid down, and growled savagely when any of the others came near. it proved to be the blood-stained leg of a new-killed dog, yellow like herself. as we pulled out a big black-and-white fellow looked at us wistfully from a rocky ledge; memories of bingo, whom he resembled not a little, touched me. i threw him a large piece of dried meat. he ate it, but not ravenously. he seemed in need, not of food, but of company. a few miles farther on we again landed to study the lake; as we came near we saw the dogs, not four but six, now racing to meet us. i said to preble: "it seems to me it would be the part of mercy to shoot them all." he answered: "they are worth nothing now, but you shoot one and its value would at once jump up to one hundred dollars. every one knows everything that is done in this country. you would have six hundred dollars' damages to pay when you got back to fort resolution." i got out our stock of fresh fish. the indians, seeing my purpose, said: "throw it in the water and see them dive." i did so and found that they would dive into several feet of water and bring up the fish without fail. the yellow female was not here, so i suppose she had stayed to finish her bone. when we came away, heading for the open lake, the dogs followed us as far as they could, then gathering on a flat rock, the end of a long point, they sat down, some with their backs to us; all raised their muzzles and howled to the sky a heart-rending dirge. i was thankful to lose them in the distance. chapter xxiv the voyage across the lake hitherto i have endeavoured to group my observations on each subject; i shall now for a change give part of the voyage across great slave lake much, as it appears in my journal. "july 16, 1907.--left fort resolution at 9.40 a. m. in the york boat manned by 7 indians and billy loutit, besides preble and myself, 10 in all; ready with mast and sail for fair wind, but also provided with heavy 16-foot oars for head-winds and calm. harding says we should make pike's portage in 3 or 4 days. "reached moose island at 11.30 chiefly by rowing; camped. a large dog appeared on the bank. freesay recognised it as his and went ashore with a club. we heard the dog yelping. freesay came back saying: 'he'll go home now.' "at 1.30 went on but stopped an unnecessary half-hour at a saw-mill getting plank for seats. reached the big, or main, river at 4.10; stopped for tea again till 4.50, then rowed up the river till 5.40; rested 15 minutes, rowed till 6.30; rested 15 minutes, rowed till 7; then got into the down current of the north branch or mouth of the slave; down then we drifted till 8, then landed and made another meal, the fourth to-day, and went on drifting at 8.30. "at 9.30 we heard a ruffed grouse drumming, the last of the season, also a bittern pumping, some cranes trumpeting, and a wood frog croaking. snipe were still whirring in the sky. saw common tern. "at 10.15, still light, we camped for the night and made another meal. the indians went out and shot 2 muskrats, making 7 the total of these i have seen in the country. this is the very lowest ebb. why are they so scarce? their low epoch agrees with that of the rabbits. "july 17.--rose at 6 (it should have been 4, but the indians would not rouse); sailed north through the marsh with a light east breeze. at noon this changed to a strong wind blowing from the north, as it has done with little variation ever since i came to the country. these indians know little of handling a boat and resent any suggestion. they maintain their right, to row or rest, as they please, and land when and where they think best. we camped on a sand-bar and waited till night; most exasperating when we are already behind time. the indians set a net, using for tie-strings the bark of the willow (salix bebbiana). they caught a jack-fish. reached stony island at night, after many stops and landings. the indians land whenever in doubt and make a meal (at my expense), and are in doubt every two hours or so. they eat by themselves and have their own cook. billy cooks for us, i.e., preble, weeso, and myself. among the crew i hear unmistakable grumblings about the food, which is puzzling, as it is the best they ever had in their lives; there is great variety and no limit to the quantity. "made 6 meals and 17 miles to-day, rowing 7, sailing 10. "july 18.--left stony island at 6.55; could not get the crew started sooner; sailing with a light breeze which soon died down and left us on a sea of glass. i never before realised how disgusting a calm could be. "camped at 9.15 on one of the countless, unnamed, uncharted islands of the lake. it is very beautiful in colour, red granite, spotted with orange and black lichen on its face, and carpeted with caribou moss and species of cetraria, great patches of tripe-de-roche, beds of saxifrage, long trailers, and masses of bearberry, empetrum, ground cedar, juniper, cryptograma, and many others; while the trees, willow, birch, and spruce are full of character and drawing. sky and lake are in colour worthy of these rich details, the bird life is well represented and beautiful; there is beauty everywhere, and 'only man is vile.' "i am more and more disgusted with my indian crew; the leader in mischief seems to be young beaulieu. yesterday he fomented a mutiny because i did not give them 'beans,' though i had given them far more than promised, and beans were never mentioned. still, he had discovered a bag of them among my next month's stores, and that started him. "to-day, when sick of seeing them dawdling two hours over a meal when there are 6 meals a day, i gave the order to start. beaulieu demanded insolently: 'oh! who's boss?' my patience was worn out. i said: 'i am, and i'll show you right now,' and proceeded to do so, meaning to let him have my fist with all the steam i could get back of it. but he did not wait. at a safe distance he turned and in a totally different manner said: 'i only want to know; i thought maybe the old man (the guide). i'll do it, all ri, all ri,' and he smiled and smiled. "oh! why did i not heed pike's warning to shun all beaulieus; they rarely fail to breed trouble. if i had realised all this last night before coming to the open lake i would have taken the whole outfit back to resolution and got rid of the crowd. we could do better with another canoe and two men, and at least make better time than this (17 miles a day). "yesterday the indian boys borrowed my canoe, my line, and in my time, at my expense, caught a big fish, but sullenly disregarded the suggestion that, i should have a piece of it. "each of them carries a winchester and blazes at every living thing that appears. they have volleyed all day at every creature big enough to afford a mouthful--ducks, gulls, loons, fish, owls, terns, etc.--but have hit nothing. loons are abundant in the water and are on the indians' list of ducks, therefore good food. they are wonderfully expert at calling them. this morning a couple of loons appeared flying far to the east. the indians at once began to mimic their rolling whoo-ooo-whoo-ooo; doing it to the life. the loons began to swing toward us, then to circle, each time nearer. then all the callers stopped except claw-hammer, the expert; he began to utter a peculiar cat-like wail. the loons responded and dropped their feet as though to alight. then at 40 yards the whole crew blazed away with their rifles, doing no damage whatever. the loons turned away from these unholy callers, and were none the worse, but wiser. "this scene was repeated many times during the voyage. when the loons are on the water the indians toll them by flashing a tin pan from the bushes behind which the toller hides till the bird is in range. i saw many clever tollings but i did not see a loon killed. "july 19.--i got up at 4, talked strong talk, so actually got away at 5.30. plenty grumbling, many meals to-day, with many black looks and occasional remarks in english: 'grub no good.' three days ago these men were starving on one meal a day, of fish and bad flour; now they have bacon, dried venison, fresh fish, fresh game, potatoes, flour, baking powder, tea, coffee, milk, sugar, molasses, lard, cocoa, dried apples, rice, oatmeal, far more than was promised, all ad libitum, and the best that the h. b. co. can supply, and yet they grumble. there is only one article of the food store to which they have not access; that is a bag of beans which i am reserving for our own trip in the north where weight counts for so much. beaulieu smiles when i speak to him, but i know he is at the bottom of all this mischief. to day they made 6 meals and 17 miles--this is magnificent. "about 7.30 a pair of wild geese (canada) appeared on a bay. the boys let off a whoop of delight and rushed on them in canoe and in boat as though these were their deadliest enemies. i did not think much of it until i noticed that the geese would not fly, and it dawned on me that they were protecting their young behind their own bodies. a volley of shot-guns and winchesters and one noble head fell flat on the water, another volley and the gander fell, then a wild skurrying, yelling, and shooting for some minutes resulted in the death of the two downlings. "i could do nothing to stop them. i have trouble enough in matters that are my business and this they consider solely their own. it is nothing but kill, kill, kill every living thing they meet. one cannot blame them in general, since they live by hunting, and in this case they certainly did eat every bit of all four birds, even to their digestive organs with contents; but it seemed hard to have the devotion of the parents made their death trap when, after all, we were not in need of meat. "july 20.--rose at 4; had trouble on my hands at once. the indians would not get up till 5, so we did not get away till 6.20. beaulieu was evidently instructing the crew, for at the third breakfast all together (but perhaps 2) shouted out in english, 'grub no good! "i walked over, to them, asked who spoke; no one answered; so, i reviewed the bargain, pointed out that i had given more than agreed, and added: 'i did not promise you beans, but will say now that if you work well i'll give you a bean feast once in a while.' "they all said in various tongues and ways, 'that's all ri.' beaulieu said it several times, and smiled and smiled. "if the mythical monster that dwells in the bottom of great slave lake had reached up its long neck now and taken this same half-breed son of belial, i should have said, 'well done, good and faithful monster,' and the rest of our voyage would have been happier. oh! what a lot of pother a beneficent little bean can make. "at noon that day billy announced that it was time to give me a lobstick; a spruce was selected on a slate island and trimmed to its proper style, then inscribed: e. t. seton e. a. preble w. c. loutit 20 july 1907 "now i was in honour bound to treat, the crew. i had neither the power nor the wish to give whiskey. tobacco was already provided, so i seized the opportunity of smoothing things by announcing a feast of beans, and this, there was good reason to believe, went far in the cause of peace. "at 1.30 for the first time a fair breeze sprang up or rather lazily got up. joyfully then we raised our mast and sail. the boys curled up to sleep, except beaulieu. he had his fiddle and now he proceeded to favour us with 'a life on the ocean wave,' 'the campbells are coming,' etc., in a manner worthy of his social position and of his fiddle. when not in use this aesthetic instrument (in its box) knocks about on deck or underfoot, among pots and pans, exposed in all weather; no one seems to fear it will be injured. "at 7 the usual dead calm was restored. we rowed till we reached et-then island at 8, covering two miles more or 32 in all to-day. i was unwilling to stop now, but the boys, said they would row all day sunday if i would camp here, and then added, 'and if the wind rises to-night we'll go on.' "at 10 o'clock i was already in bed for the night, though of course it was broad daylight. preble had put out a line of mouse-traps, when the cry was raised by the indians now eating their 7th meal: chim-pal-le! hurra! chilla quee!' ('sailing wind! hurra, boys!'). "the camp was all made, but after such a long calm a sailing wind was too good to miss. in 10 minutes every tent was torn down and bundled into the boat. at 10.10 we pulled out under a fine promising breeze; but alas! for its promise! at 10.30 the last vestige of it died away and we had to use the oars to make the nearest land, where we tied up at 11 p. m. "that night old weeso said to me, through billy, the interpreter: 'to-morrow is sunday, therefore he would like to have a prayer-meeting after breakfast.' "'tell him,' i said, 'that i quite approve of his prayer-meeting, but also it must be understood that if the good lord sends us a sailing wind in the morning that is his way of letting us know we should sail.' "this sounded so logical that weeso meekly said, 'all right.' "sure enough, the morning dawned with a wind and we got away after the regular sullen grumbling. about 10.20 the usual glassy calm set in and weeso asked me for a piece of paper and a pencil. he wrote something in chipewyan on the sheet i gave, then returned the pencil and resumed his pilotic stare at the horizon, for his post was at the rudder. at length he rolled the paper into a ball, and when i seemed not observing dropped it behind him overboard. "'what is the meaning of that, billy?' i whispered. "'he's sending a prayer to jesus for wind.' half an hour afterward a strong head-wind sprang up, and weeso was severely criticised for not specifying clearly what was wanted. "there could be no question now about the propriety of landing. old weeso took all the indians off to a rock, where, bareheaded and in line, they kneeled facing the east, and for half an hour he led them in prayer, making often the sign of the cross. the headwind died away as they came to the boat and again we resumed the weary rowing, a labour which all were supposed to share, but it did not need an expert to see that beaulieu, snuff, and terchon merely dipped their oars and let them drift a while; the real rowing of that cumbrous old failure of a sailboat was done by billy loutit and yum freesay." chapter xxv crossing the lake--its natural history all day long here, as on the nyarling, i busied myself with compass and sketch-book, making the field notes, sketches, and compass surveys from which my various maps were compiled; and preble let no chance go by of noting the changing bird and plant life that told us we quit the canadian fauna at stony island and now were in the hudsonian zone. this is the belt of dwindling trees, the last or northmost zone of the forest, and the spruce trees showed everywhere that they were living a life-long battle, growing and seeding, but dwarfed by frost and hardships. but sweet are the uses of adversity, and the stunted sprucelings were beautified, not uglified, by their troubles. i never before realised that a whole country could be such a series of charming little japanese gardens, with tiny trees, tiny flowers, tiny fruits, and gorgeous oriental rugs upon the earth and rocks between. i photographed one group of trees to illustrate their dainty elfish dwarfishness, but realising that no one could guess the height without a scale, i took a second of the same with a small indian sitting next it. weeso is a kind old soul; so far as i could see he took no part in the various seditions, but he was not an inspiring guide. one afternoon he did something that made a final wreck of my confidence. a thunderstorm was rumbling in the far east. black clouds began travelling toward us; with a line of dark and troubled waters below, the faint breeze changed around and became a squall. weeso looked scared and beckoned to freesay, who came and took the helm. nothing happened. we were now running along the north shore of et-then, where are to be seen the wonderful 1,200-foot cliffs described and figured by captain george back in 1834. they are glorious ramparts, wonderful in size and in colour, marvellous in their geological display. flying, and evidently nesting among the dizzy towers, were a few barn-swallows and phoebe-birds. this cliff is repeated on oot-sing-gree-ay, the next island, but there it is not on the water's edge. it gives a wonderful echo which the indians (not to mention myself) played with, in childish fashion. on sunday, 21 july, we made a new record, 6 meals and 20 miles. on july 22 we made only 7 meals and 11 miles and camped in the narrows tal-thel-lay. these are a quarter of a mile wide and have a strong current running westerly. this is the place which back says is a famous fishing ground and never freezes over, even in the hardest winters. here, as at all points, i noted the indian names, not only because they were appropriate, but in hopes of serving the next traveller. i found an unexpected difficulty in writing them down, viz.: no matter how i pronounced them, old weeso and freesay, my informants, would say, "yes, that is right." this, i learned, was out of politeness; no matter how you mispronounce their words it is good form to say, "that's it; now you have it exactly." the indians were anxious to put out a net overnight here, as they could count on getting a few whitefish; so we camped at 5.15. it is difficult to convey to an outsider the charm of the word "whitefish." any northerner will tell you that it is the only fish that is perfect human food, the only food that man or dog never wearies of, the only lake food that conveys no disorder no matter how long or freely it is used. it is so delicious and nourishing that there is no fish in the world that can even come second to it. it is as far superior in all food qualities to the finest salmon or trout as a first-prize, gold-medalled, nut-fed thoroughbred sussex bacon-hog is to the roughest, toughest, boniest old razor-backed land-pike that ever ranged the woods of arkansas. that night the net yielded 3 whitefish and 3 trout. the latter, being 4 to 8 pounds each, would have been reckoned great prizes in any other country, but now all attention was on the whitefish. they certainly were radiantly white, celestial in color; their backs were a dull frosted silver, with here and there a small electric lamp behind the scales to make its jewels sparkle. the lamps alternated with opals increased on the side; the bellies were of a blazing mother-of-pearl. it would be hard to imagine a less imaginative name than "white" fish for such a shining, burning opalescence. indian names are usually descriptive, but their name for this is simply "the fish." all others are mere dilutes and cheap imitations, but the coregonus is at all times and par excellence "the fish." nevertheless, in looking at it i could not help feeling that this is the fat swine, or the beef durham of its kind. the head, gills, fins, tail, vital organs and bones all were reduced to a minimum and the meat parts enlarged and solidified, as though they were the product of ages of careful breeding by man to produce a perfect food fish, a breeding that has been crowned with the crown of absolute success. the indians know, for the best of reasons, the just value of every native food. when rabbits abound they live on them but do not prosper; they call it "starving on rabbits." when caribou meat is plenty they eat it, but crave flour. when moose is at hand they eat it, and are strong. when jack-fish, sucker, conies, and trout are there, they take them as a variant; but on whitefish, as on moose, they can live with out loathing, and be strong. the indian who has his scaffold hung with whitefish when winter comes, is accounted rich. "and what," says the pessimist, "is the fly in all this precious ointment?" alasl it is not a game fish; it will not take bait, spoon, or fly, and its finest properties vanish in a few hours after capture. the whitefish served in the marble palaces of other lands is as mere dish-water to champagne, when compared with the three times purified and ten times intensified dazzling silver coregonus as it is landed on the bleak shores of those far-away icy lakes. so i could not say 'no' to the indian boys when they wanted to wait here, the last point at which they could be sure of a catch. that night (22d july) five canoes and two york boats of indians landed at the narrows. these were dogribs of chief vital's band; all told they numbered about thirty men, women, and children; with them were twenty-odd dogs, which immediately began to make trouble. when one is in texas the topic of conversation is, "how are the cattle?" in the klondike, "how is your claim panning out?" and in new york, "how are you getting on with your novel?" on great slave lake you say, "where are the caribou?" the indians could not tell; they had seen none for weeks, but there was still much ice in the east end of the lake which kept them from investigating. they had plenty of dried caribou meat but were out of tea and tobacco. i had come prepared for this sort of situation, and soon we had a fine stock of dried venison. these were the indians whose abandoned dogs made so much trouble for us in the days that followed. at 4 p. m. of 23d of july we were stopped by a long narrow floe of broken ice. without consulting me the crew made for the shore. it seemed they were full of fears: "what if they should get caught in that floe, and drift around for days? what if a wind should arise (it had been glassy calm for a week)? what if they could', not get back?" etc., etc. preble and i climbed a hill for a view. the floe was but half a mile wide, very loose, with frequent lanes. "preble, is there any reason why we should not push through this floe using poles to move the cakes?" "none whatever." on descending, however, i found the boys preparing to camp for "a couple of days," while the ice melted or drifted away somewhere. so i said, "you get right into this boat now and push off; we can easily work our way through." they made no reply, simply looked sulkier than ever, and proceeded to start a fire for meal no. 5. "weeso," i said, "get into your place and tell your men to follow." the old man looked worried and did nothing, he wanted to do right, but he was in awe of his crew. then did i remember how john macdonald settled the rebellion on the river. "get in there," i said to preble and billy. "come on, weeso." we four jumped into the boat and proceeded to push off with all the supplies. authorities differ as to the time it took for the crew to make up their minds. two seconds and eleven seconds are perhaps the extremes of estimate. they came jumping aboard as fast as they could. we attacked the floe, each with a lodge-pole; that is, billy and preble did in the bow, while freesay and i did at the rear; and in thirty-five minutes we had pushed through and were sailing the open sea. the next day we had the same scene repeated with less intensity, in this case because freesay sided with me. what would i not give to have had a crew of white men. a couple of stout norwegian sailors would have done far better than this whole outfit of reds. when we stopped for supper no. 1 a tiny thimbleful of down on two pink matches ran past, and at once the mother, a peetweet, came running in distress to save her young. the brave beaulieu fearlessly seized a big stick and ran to kill the little one. i shouted out, "stop that," in tones that implied that i owned the heaven, the earth, the sea, and all that in them is, but could not have saved the downling had it not leaped into the water and dived out of sight. it came up two feet away and swam to a rock of safety, where it bobbed its latter end toward its adversaries and the open sea in turn. i never before knew that they could dive. about eight o'clock we began to look for a good place to camp and make meal no. 6. but the islands where usually we found refuge from the dogs were without wood, and the shores were too rugged and steep or had no dry timber, so we kept going on. after trying one or two places the indians said it was only a mile to indian mountain river (der-sheth tessy), where was a camp of their friends. i was always glad of a reason for pushing on, so away we went. my crew seized their rifles and fired to let their village know we were coming. the camp came quickly into view, and volley after volley was fired and returned. these indians are extremely poor and the shots cost 5 and 6 cents each. so this demonstration totalled up about $2.00. as we drew near the village of lodges the populace lined up on shore, and then our boys whispered, "some white men." what a peculiar thrill it gave me! i had seen nothing but indians along the route so far and expected nothing else. but here were some of my own people, folk with whom i could talk. they proved to be my american friend from smith landing, he whose hand i had lanced, and his companion, a young englishman, who was here with him prospecting for gold and copper. "i'm all right now," he said, and, held up the hand with my mark on it, and our greeting was that of white men meeting among strangers in a far foreign land. as soon as we were ashore a number of indians came to offer meat for tobacco. they seemed a lot of tobacco-maniacs. "tzel-twee" at any price they must have. food they could do without for a long time, but life without smoke was intolerable; and they offered their whole dried product of two caribou, concentrated, nourishing food enough to last a family many days, in exchange for half a pound of nasty stinking, poisonous tobacco. two weeks hence, they say, these hills will be alive with caribou; alas! for them, it proved a wholly erroneous forecast. y.'s guide is sousi king beaulieu (for pedigree, see warburton pike); he knows all this country well and gave us much information about the route. he says that this year the caribou cows went north as usual, but the bulls did not. the season was so late they did not think it worth while; they are abundant yet at artillery lake. he recognised me as the medicine man, and took an early opportunity of telling me what a pain he had. just where, he was not sure, but it was hard to bear; he would like some sort of a pain-killer. evidently he craved a general exhilarator. next morning we got away at 7 a. m. after the usual painful scene about getting up in the middle of the night, which was absurd, as there was no night. next afternoon we passed the great white fall at the mouth of hoar frost river; the indians call it dezza kya. if this is the beverly falls of back, his illustrator was without information; the published picture bears not the slightest resemblance to it. at three in the afternoon of july 27th, the twelfth day after we had set out on the "three or four day run" from resolution, this exasperating and seemingly interminable voyage really did end, and we thankfully beached our york boat at the famous lobstick that marks the landing of pike's portage. chapter xxvi the lynx at bay one of the few rewarding episodes of this voyage took place on the last morning, july 27. we were half a mile from charleston harbour when one of the indians said "cheesay" (lynx) and pointed to the south shore. there, on a bare point a quarter mile away, we saw a large lynx walking quietly along. every oar was dropped and every rifle seized, of course, to repeat the same old scene; probably it would have made no difference to the lynx, but i called out: "hold on there! i'm going after that cheesay." calling my two reliables, preble and billy, we set out in the canoe, armed, respectively, with a shotgun, a club, and a camera. when we landed the lynx was gone. we hastily made a skirmishing line in the wood where the point joined the mainland, but saw no sign of him, so concluded that he must be hiding on the point. billy took the right shore, preble the left, i kept the middle. then we marched toward the point but saw nothing. there were no bushes except a low thicket of spruce, some 20 feet across and 3 or 4 feet high. this was too dense to penetrate standing, so i lay down on my breast and proceeded to crawl in under the low boughs. i had not gone six feet before a savage growl warned me back, and there, just ahead, crouched the lynx. he glared angrily, then rose up, and i saw, with a little shock, that he had been crouching on the body of another lynx, eating it. photography was impossible there, so i took a stick and poked at him; he growled, struck at the stick, but went out, then dashed across the open for the woods. as he went i got photograph no. 1. now i saw the incredible wonder i had heard of--a good runner can outrun a lynx. preble was a sprinter, and before the timber 200 yards off was reached that lynx was headed and turned; and preble and billy were driving him back into my studio. he made several dashes to escape, but was out-manoeuvred and driven onto the far point, where he was really between the devils and the deep sea. here he faced about at bay, growling furiously, thumping his little bobtail from side to side, and pretending he was going to spring on us. i took photo no. 2 at 25 yards. he certainly did look very fierce, but i thought i knew the creature, as well as the men who were backing me. i retired, put a new film in place, and said: "now, preble, i'm going to walk up to that lynx and get a close photo. if he jumps for me, and he may, there is nothing can save my beauty but you and that gun." preble with characteristic loquacity says, "go ahead." then i stopped and began slowly approaching the desperate creature we held at bay. his eyes were glaring green, his ears were back, his small bobtail kept twitching from side to side, and his growls grew harder and hissier, as i neared him. at 15 feet he gathered his legs under him as for a spring, and i pressed the button getting, no. 3. then did the demon of ambition enter into my heart and lead me into peril. that lynx at bay was starving and desperate. he might spring at me, but i believed that if he did he never would reach me alive. i knew my man--this nerved me--and i said to him: "i'm not satisfied; i want him to fill the finder. are you ready?" "yep." so i crouched lower and came still nearer, and at 12 feet made no. 4. for some strange reason, now the lynx seemed less angry than he had been. "he didn't fill the finder; i'll try again," was my next. then on my knees i crawled up, watching the finder till it was full of lynx. i glanced at the beast; he was but 8 feet away. i focused and fired. and now, oh, wonder! that lynx no longer seemed annoyed; he had ceased growling and simply looked bored. seeing it was over, preble says, "now where does he go? to the museum?" "no, indeed!" was the reply. "he surely has earned his keep; turn him loose. it's back to the woods for him." we stood aside; he saw his chance and dashed for the tall timber. as he went i fired the last film, getting no. 6; and so far as i know that lynx is alive and well and going yet. chapter xxvii the last of that indian crew carved on the lobstick of the landing were many names famous in the annals of this region, pike, maltern, mckinley, munn, tyrrel among them. all about were evidences of an ancient and modern camp--lodge poles ready for the covers, relics and wrecks of all sorts, fragments of canoes and sleds, and the inevitable stray indian dog. first we made a meal, of course; then i explained to the crew that i wanted all the stuff carried over the portage, 31 miles, to the first lake. at once there was a row; i was used to that. there had been a row every morning over getting up, and one or two each day about other details. now the evil face of beaulieu showed that his tongue was at work again. but i knew my lesson. "you were brought to man the boat and bring my stuff over this portage. so do it and start right now." they started 3 1/4 miles with heavy loads, very heavy labour i must admit, back then in four hours to make another meal, and camp. next morning another row before they would get up and take each another load. but canoe and everything were over by noon. and then came the final scene. in all the quarrels and mutinies, old weeso had been faithful to me. freesay had said little or nothing, and had always worked well and cheerfully. weeso was old and weak, freesay young and strong, and therefore he was the one for our canoe. i decided it would pay to subsidise weeso to resign in favour of the younger man. but, to be sure, first asked freesay if he would like to come with me to the land of the musk-ox. his answer was short and final, "yes," but he could not, as his uncle had told him not to go beyond this portage. that settled it. the childlike obedience to their elders is admirable, but embarrassing at times. so weeso went after all, and we got very well acquainted on that long trip. he was a nice old chap. he always meant well; grinned so happily, when he was praised, and looked so glum when he was scolded. there was little of the latter to do; so far as he knew, he did his best, and it is a pleasure now to conjure up his face and ways. his cheery voice, at my tent door every morning, was the signal that billy had the breakfast within ten minutes of ready. "okimow, to" (chief, here is water), he would say as he set down the water for my bath and wondered what in the name of common sense should make the okimow need washing every morning. he himself was of a cleaner kind, having needed no bath during the whole term of our acquaintance. there were two peculiarities of the old man that should make him a good guide for the next party going northward. first, he never forgot a place once he had been there, and could afterward go to it direct from any other place. second, he had the most wonderful nose for firewood; no keen-eyed raven or starving wolf could go more surely to a marrow-bone in cache, than could weeso to the little sticks in far away hollows or granite clefts. again and again, when we landed on the level or rocky shore and all hands set out to pick up the few pencil-thick stems of creeping birch, roots of annual plants, or wisps of grass to boil the kettle, old weeso would wander off by himself and in five minutes return with an armful of the most amazingly acceptable firewood conjured out of the absolutely timberless, unpromising waste. i never yet saw the camp where he could not find wood. so he proved good stuff; i was glad we had brought him along. and i was equally glad now to say good-bye to the rest of the crew. i gave them provisions for a week, added a boiling of beans, and finally the wonderful paper in which i stated the days they had worked for me, and the kind of service they had rendered, commended freesay, and told the truth about beaulieu. "dat paper tell about me," said that worthy suspiciously. "yes," i said, "and about the others; and it tells harding to pay you as agreed." we all shook hands and parted. i have not seen them since, nor do i wish to meet any of them again, except freesay. my advice to the next traveller would be: get white men for the trip and one indian for guide. when alone they are manageable, and some of them, as seen already, are quite satisfactory, but the more of them the worse. they combine, as pike says, the meanest qualities of a savage and an unscrupulous moneylender. the worst one in the crowd seems most readily followed by the others. chapter xxviii geological forces at work it seems to me that never before have i seen the geological forces of nature so obviously at work. elsewhere i have seen great valleys, cliffs, islands, etc., held on good evidence to be the results of such and such powers formerly very active; but here on the athabaska i saw daily evidence of these powers in full blast, ripping, tearing reconstructing, while we looked on. all the way down the river we saw the process of undermining the bank, tearing down the trees to whirl them again on distant northern shores, thus widening the river channel until too wide for its normal flood, which in time, drops into a deeper restricted channel, in the wide summer waste of gravel and sand. ten thousand landslides take place every spring, contributing their tons of mud to the millions that the river is deporting to the broad catch basins called the athabaska and great slave lakes. many a tree has happened to stand on the very crack that is the upmost limit of the slide and has in consequence been ripped in two. many an island is wiped out and many a one made in these annual floods. again and again we saw the evidence of some island, continued long enough to raise a spruce forest, suddenly receive a 6-foot contribution from its erratic mother; so the trees were buried to the arm-pits. many times i saw where some frightful jam of ice had planed off all the trees; then a deep overwhelming layer of mud had buried the stumps and grown in time a new spruce forest. now the mighty erratic river was tearing all this work away again, exposing all its history. in the delta of the slave, near fort resolution, we saw the plan of delta work. millions of tons of mud poured into the deep translucent lake have filled it for miles, so that it is scarcely deep enough to float a canoe; thousands of huge trees, stolen from the upper forest, are here stranded as wing-dams that check the current and hold more mud. rushes grow on this and catch more mud. then the willows bind it more, and the sawing down of the outlet into the mackenzie results in all this mud being left dry land. this is the process that has made all the lowlands at the mouth of great slave and athabaska rivers. and the lines of tree trunks to-day, preparing for the next constructive annexation of the lake, are so regular that one's first thought is that this is the work of man. but these are things that my sketches and photographs will show better than words. when later we got onto the treeless barrens or tundra, the process was equally evident, though at this time dormant, and the chief agent was not running water, but the giant jack frost. chapter xxix pike's portage part of my plan was to leave a provision cache every hundred miles, with enough food to carry us 200 miles, and thus cover the possibility of considerable loss. i had left supplies at chipewyan, smith, and resolution, but these were settlements; now we were pushing off into the absolute wilderness, where it was unlikely we should see any human beings but ourselves. now, indeed, we were facing all primitive conditions. other travellers have made similar plans for food stores, but there are three deadly enemies to a cache--weather, ravens, and wolverines., i was prepared for all three. water-proof leatheroid cases were to turn the storm, dancing tins and lines will scare the ravens, and each cache tree was made unclimbable to wolverines by the addition of a necklace of charms in the form of large fish-hooks, all nailed on with points downward. this idea, borrowed from, tyrrell, has always proved a success; and not one of our caches was touched or injured. tyrrell has done much for this region; his name will ever be linked with its geography and history. his map of the portage was a godsend, for now we found that our guide had been here only once, and that when he was a child, with many resultant lapses of memory and doubts about the trail. my only wonder was that he remembered as much as he did. here we had a sudden and unexpected onset of black flies; they appeared for the first time in numbers, and attacked us with a ferocity that made the mosquitoes seem like a lot of baby butterflies in comparison. however, much as we may dislike the latter, they at least do not poison us or convey disease (as yet), and are repelled by thick clothing. the black flies attack us like some awful pestilence walking in darkness, crawling in and forcing themselves under our clothing, stinging and poisoning as they go. they are, of course, worst near the openings in our armour, that is necks, wrists, and ankles. soon each of us had a neck like an old fighting bull walrus; enormously swollen, corrugated with bloats and wrinkles, blotched, bumpy, and bloody, as disgusting as it was painful. all too closely it simulated the ravages of some frightful disease, and for a night or two the torture of this itching fire kept me from sleeping. three days, fortunately, ended the black fly reign, and left us with a deeper sympathy for the poor egyptians who on account of their own or some other bodies' sins were the victims of "plagues of flies." but there was something in the camp that amply offset these annoyances; this was a spirit of kindness and confidence. old weeso was smiling and happy, ready at all times to do his best; his blundering about the way was not surprising, all things considered, but his mistakes did not matter, since i had tyrrell's admirable maps. billy, sturdy, strong, reliable, never needed to be called twice in the morning. no matter what the hour, he was up at once and cooking the breakfast in the best of style, for an a 1 cook he was. and when it came to the portages he would shoulder his 200 or 250 pounds each time. preble combined the mental force of the educated white man with the brawn of the savage, and although not supposed to do it, he took the same sort of loads as billy did. mine, for the best of reasons, were small, and consisted chiefly of the guns, cameras, and breakables, or occasionally, while they were transporting the heavy stuff, i acted as cook. but all were literally and figuratively in the same boat, all paddled all day, ate the same food worked the same hours, and imbued with the same spirit were eager to reach the same far goal. from this on the trip was ideal. we were 3 1/2 days covering the 8 small lakes and 9 portages (30 miles) that lie between the two great highways, great slave lake and artillery lake; and camped on the shore of the latter on the night of july 31. two of these 9 lakes had not been named by the original explorers. i therefore exercised my privilege and named them, respectively, "loutit" and "weeso," in honour of my men. the country here is cut up on every side with caribou trails; deep worn like the buffalo trails on the plains, with occasional horns and bones; these, however, are not so plentiful as were the relics of the buffalo. this, it proved, was because the caribou go far north at horn-dropping time, and they have practically no bones that the wolves cannot crush with their teeth. although old tracks were myriad-many, there were no new ones. weeso said, however, "in about four days the shores of this lake will be alive with caribou." it will show the erratic nature of these animals when i say that the old man was all wrong; they did not appear there in numbers until many weeks later, probably not for two months. here, at the foot of artillery lake, we were near the last of the timber, and, strange to say, we found some trees of remarkably large growth. one, a tamarac, was the largest and last seen; the other, a spruce--pike's lobstick--was 55 inches in girth, 1 foot from the ground. at this camp weeso complained that he was feeling very sick; had pains in his back. i could not make out what was the matter with him, but billy said sagaciously, "i think if you give him any kind of a pill he will be all right. it doesn't matter what, so long as it's a pill." of course "cathartic" is good blind play in case of doubt. he got a big, fierce rhubarb, and all went well. chapter xxx caribou-land at last on the morning of august 1 we launched on artillery lake, feeling, for the tenth time, that now we really were on the crowning stretch of our journey, that at last we were entering the land of the caribou. over the deep, tranquil waters of the lake we went, scanning the painted shores with their dwindling remnants of forest. there is something inspiring about the profundity of transparency in these lakes, where they are 15 feet deep their bottoms are no more obscured than in an ordinary eastern brook at 6 inches. on looking down into the far-below world, one gets the sensation of flight as one skims overhead in the swift canoe. and how swift that elegant canoe was in a clear run i was only now finding out. all my previous estimates had been too low. here i had the absolute gauge of tyrrell's maps and found that we four paddling could send her, not 3 1/2, but 4 1/2 or 5 miles an hour, with a possibility of 6 when we made an effort. as we spun along the south-east coast of the lake, the country grew less rugged; the continuous steep granite hills were replaced by lower buttes with long grassy plains between; and as i took them in, i marvelled at their name--the barrens; bare of trees, yes, but the plains were covered with rich, rank grass, more like new england meadows. there were stretches where the herbage was rank as on the indiana prairies, and the average pasture of the bleaker parts was better than the best of central wyoming. a cattleman of the west would think himself made if he could be sure of such pastures on his range, yet these are the barren grounds. at 3 we passed the splendid landmark of beaver lodge mountain. its rosy-red granite cliffs contrast wonderfully with its emerald cap of verdant grass and mosses, that cover it in tropical luxuriance, and the rippling lake about it was of mediterranean hues. we covered the last 9 miles in 1 hour and 53 minutes, passed the deserted indian village, and landed at last woods by 8.30 p. m. the edge of the timber is the dividing line between the hudsonian and the arctic zones, it is the beginning of the country we had come to see; we were now in the land of the caribou. at this point we were prepared to spend several days, leave a cache, gather a bundle of choice firewood, then enter on the treeless plains. that night it stormed; all were tired; there was no reason to bestir ourselves; it was 10 when we arose. half an hour later billy came to my tent and said, "mr. seton, here's some deer." i rushed to the door, and there, with my own eyes, i saw on a ridge a mile away four great, caribou standing against the sky. we made for a near hill and met preble returning; he also had seen them. from a higher view-point the 4 proved part of a band of 120. then other bands came in view, 16, 61, 3, 200, and so on; each valley had a scattering few, all travelling slowly southward or standing to enjoy the cool breeze that ended the torment of the flies. about 1,000 were in sight. these were my first caribou, the first fruits of 3,000 miles of travel. weeso got greatly excited; these were the forerunners of the vast herd. he said, "plenty caribou now," and grinned like a happy child. i went in one direction, taking only my camera. at least 20 caribou trotted within 50 feet of me. billy and weeso took their rifles intent on venison, but the caribou avoided them and 6 or 8 shots were heard before they got a young buck. all that day i revelled in caribou, no enormous herds but always a few in sight. the next day weeso and i went to the top ridge eastward. he with rifle, i with camera. he has a vague idea of the camera's use, but told billy privately that "the rifle was much better for caribou." he could not understand why i should restrain him from blazing away as long as the ammunition held out. "didn't we come to shoot?" but he was amenable to discipline, and did as i wished when he understood. now on the top of that windy ridge i sat with this copper-coloured child of the spruce woods, to watch these cattle of the plains. the caribou is a travelsome beast, always in a hurry, going against the wind. when the wind is west, all travel west; when it veers, they veer. now the wind was northerly, and all were going north, not walking, not galloping--the caribou rarely gallops, and then only for a moment or two; his fast gait is a steady trot a 10-mile gait, making with stops about 6 miles an hour. but they are ever on the move; when you see a caribou that does not move, you know at once it is not a caribou; it's a rock. we sat down on the hill at 3. in a few minutes a cow caribou came trotting from the south, caught the wind at 50 yards, and dashed away. in 5 minutes another, in 20 minutes a young buck, in 20 minutes more a big buck, in 10 minutes a great herd of about 500 appeared in the south. they came along at full trot, lined to pass us on the southeast. at half a mile they struck our scent and all recoiled as though we were among them. they scattered in alarm, rushed south again, then, gathered in solid body, came on as before, again to spring back and scatter as they caught the taint of man. after much and various running, scattering, and massing, they once more charged the fearsome odour and went right through it. now they passed at 500 yards and gave the chance for a far camera shot. the sound of their trampling was heard a long way off--half a mile--but at 300 yards i could not distinguish the clicking of the feet, whereas this clicking was very plainly to be heard from the band that passed within 50 yards of me in the morning. they snort a good deal and grunt a little, and, notwithstanding their continual haste, i noticed that from time to time one or two would lie down, but at once jump up and rush on when they found they were being left behind. many more single deer came that day, but no more large herds. about 4.30 a fawn of this year (2 1/2 or 3 months) came rushing up from the north, all alone. it charged up a hill for 200 yards, then changed its mind and charged down again, then raced to a bunch of tempting herbage, cropped it hastily, dashed to a knoll, left at an angle, darted toward us till within 40 yards, then dropped into a thick bed of grass, where it lay as though it had unlimited time. i took one photograph, and as i crawled to get one nearer, a shot passed over my head, and the merry cackle told me that weeso had yielded to temptation and had 'collected' that fawn. a young buck now came trotting and grunting toward us till within 16 paces, which proved too much for weeso, who then and there, in spite of repeated recent orders, started him on the first step toward my museum collection. i scolded him angrily, and he looked glum and unhappy, like a naughty little boy caught in some indiscretion which he cannot understand. he said nothing to me then, but later complained to billy, asking, "what did we come for?" next morning at dawn i dreamed i was back in new york and that a couple of cats were wailing under my bedroom window. their noise increased so that i awoke, and then i heard unaccountable caterwauls. they were very loud and near, at least one of the creatures was. at length i got up to see. here on the lake a few yards from the tent was a loon swimming about, minutely inspecting the tent and uttering at intervals deep cat-like mews in expression of his curiosity. the south wind had blown for some days before we arrived, and the result was to fill the country with caribou coming from the north. the day after we came, the north wind set in, and continued for three days, so that soon there was not a caribou to be found in the region. in the afternoon i went up the hill to where weeso left the offal of his deer. a large yellowish animal was there feeding. it disappeared over a rock and i could get no second view of it. it may have been a wolf, as i saw a fresh wolf trail near; i did not, however, see the animal's tail. in the evening preble and i went again, and again the creature was there, but disappeared as mysteriously as before when we were 200 yards away. where it went we could not guess. the country was open and we scoured it with eye and glass, but saw nothing more of the prowler. it seemed to be a young arctic wolf, yellowish white in colour, but tailless, next day, at noon preble and billy returned bearing the illusive visitor; it was a large lynx. it was very thin and yet, after bleeding, weighed 22 pounds. but why was it so far from the forest, 20 miles or more, and a couple of miles from this little grove that formed the last woods? this is another evidence of the straits the lynxes are put to for food, in this year of famine. chapter xxxi good-bye to the woods the last woods is a wonderfully interesting biological point or line; this ultimate arm of the forest does not die away gradually with uncertain edges and in steadily dwindling trees. the latter have sent their stoutest champions to the front, or produced, as by a final effort, some giants for the line of battle. and that line, with its sentinels, is so marked that one can stand with a foot on the territory of each combatant, or, as scientists call them, the arctic region and the cold temperate. and each of the embattled kings, jack-frost and sombre-pine, has his children in abundance to possess the land as he wins it. right up to the skirmish line are they. the low thickets of the woods are swarming with tree-sparrows, redpolls, robins, hooded sparrows, and the bare plains, a few yards away, are peopled and vocal with birds to whom a bush is an abomination. lap-longspur, snowbird, shorelarks, and pipits are here soaring and singing, or among the barren rocks are ptarmigan in garments that are painted in the patterns of their rocks. there is one sombre fowl of ampler wing that knows no line--is at home in the open or in the woods. his sonorous voice has a human sound that is uncanny; his form is visible afar in the desert and sinister as a gibbet; his plumage fits in with nothing but the night, which he does not love. this evil genius of the land is the raven of the north. its numbers increased as we reached the barrens, and the morning after the first caribou was killed, no less than 28 were assembled at its offal. an even more interesting bird of the woods is the hooded sparrow, interesting because so little known. here i found it on its breeding-grounds, a little late for its vernal song, but in september we heard its autumnal renewal like the notes of its kinsmen, white-throat and white-crowned sparrows, but with less whistling, and more trilled. in all the woods of the hudsonian zone we found it evidently at home. but here i was privileged to find the first nest of the species known to science. the victory was robbed of its crown, through the nest having fledglings instead of eggs, but still it was the ample reward of hours of search. of course it was on the ground, in the moss and creeping plants, under some bushes of dwarf birch, screened by spruces. the structure closely resembled that of the whitethroat was lined with grass and fibrous roots; no down, feathers, or fur were observable. the young numbered four. the last woods was the limit of other interesting creatures--the ants. wherever one looks on the ground, in a high, dry place, throughout the forest country, from athabaska landing northward along our route, there is to be seen at least one ant to the square foot, usually several. three kinds seem common--one red-bodied, another a black one with brown thorax, and a third very small and all black. they seem to live chiefly in hollow logs and stumps, but are found also on marshes, where their hills are occasionally so numerous as to form dry bridges across. i made many notes on the growth of timber here and all along the route; and for comparison will begin at the very beging. in march, 1907, at my home in connecticut, i cut down an oak tree (q. palustris) that was 110 feet high, 32 inches in diameter, and yet had only 76 rings of annual growth. in the bitterroot mountains of idaho, where i camped in september, 1902, a yellow pine 6 feet 6 inches high was 51 inches in circumference at base. it had 14 rings and 14 whorls of branches corresponding exactly with the rings. at the same place i measured a balsam fir--84 feet high, 15 inches in diameter at 32 inches from the ground. it had 52 annual rings and 50 or possibly 52 whorls of branches. the most vigorous upward growth of the trunk corresponded exactly with the largest growth of wood in the stump. thus ring no. 33 was 3/8 inch wide and whorl no. 33 had over 2 feet of growth, below it on the trunk were others which had but 6 inches. on the stump most growth was on north-east side; there it was 9 inches, from pith to bark next on east 8 1/2 inches, on south 8 inches, north 6 1/2 inches, west 6 1/2 inches, least on north-west side, 6 inches. the most light in this case came from the north-east. this was in the land of mighty timber. on great slave river, the higher latitude is offset by lower altitude, and on june 2, 1907, while among the tall white spruce trees i measured one of average size--118 feet high, 11 feet 2 inches in girth a foot from the ground (3 feet 6 1/2 inches in diameter), and many black poplars nearly as tall were 9 feet in girth. but the stunting effect of the short summer became marked as we went northward. at fort smith, june 20, i cut down a jackpine that was 12 feet high, 1 inch in diameter, with 23 annual rings at the bottom; 6 feet up it had 12 rings and 20 whorls. in all it appeared to have 43 whorls, which is puzzling. of these 20 were in the lower part. this tree grew in dense shade. at fort resolution we left the canadian region of large timber and entered the stunted spruce, as noted, and at length on the timber line we saw the final effort of the forests to combat jack frost in his own kingdom. the individual history of each tree is in three stages: first, as a low, thick, creeping bush sometimes ten feet across, but only a foot high. in this stage it continues until rooted enough and with capital enough to send up a long central shoot; which is stage no. 2. this central shoot is like a noah's ark pine; in time it becomes the tree and finally the basal thicket dies, leaving the specimen in stage no. 3. a stem of one of the low creepers was cut for examination; it was 11 inches through and 25 years old. some of these low mats of spruce have stems 5 inches through. they must be fully 100 years old. a tall, dead, white spruce at the camp was 30 feet high and 11 inches in diameter at 4 feet from the ground. its 190 rings were hard to count, they were so thin. the central ones were thickest, there being 16 to the inmost inch of radius; on the outside to the north 50 rings made only 1/2 an inch and 86 made one inch. numbers 42 and 43, counting from the outside, were two or three times as thick as those outside of them and much thicker than the next within; they must have represented years of unusual summers. no. 99 also was of great size. what years these corresponded with one could not guess, as the tree was a long time dead. another, a dwarf but 8 feet high, was 12 inches through. it had 205 rings plus a 5-inch hollow which we reckoned at about 100 rings of growth; 64 rings made only 1 3/8 inches; the outmost of the 64 was 2 inches in from the outside of the wood. those on the outer two inches were even smaller, so as to be exceedingly difficult to count. this tree was at least 300 years old; our estimates varied, according to the data, from 300 to 325 years. these, then, are the facts for extremes. in idaho or connecticut it took about 10 years to produce the same amount of timber as took 300 years on the edge of the arctic zone. chapter xxxii the treeless plains on august 7 we left camp last woods. our various specimens, with a stock of food, were secured, as usual, in a cache high in two trees, in this case those already used by tyrrell seven years before, and guarded by the magic necklace of cod hooks. by noon (in 3 hours) we made fifteen miles, camping far beyond twin buttes. all day long the boat shot through water crowded with drowned gnats. these were about 10 to the square inch near shore and for about twenty yards out, after that 10 to the square foot for two hundred or three hundred yards still farther from shore, and for a quarter mile wide they were 10 to the square yard. this morning the wind turned and blew from the south. at 2 p. m. we saw a band of some 60 caribou travelling southward; these were the first seen for two or three days. after this we saw many odd ones, and about 3 o'clock a band of 400 or 500. at night we camped on casba river, having covered 36 miles in 7 hours and 45 minutes. the place, we had selected for camp proved to be a caribou crossing. as we drew near a dozen of them came from the east and swam across. a second band of 8 now appeared. we gave chase. they spurted; so did we. our canoe was going over 6 miles an hour, and yet was but slowly overtaking them. they made the water foam around them. their heads, necks, shoulders, backs, rumps, and tails were out. i never before saw land animals move so fast in the water. a fawn in danger of being left behind reared up on its mother's back and hung on with forefeet. the leader was a doe or a young buck, i could not be sure which; the last was a big buck. they soon struck bottom and bounded along on the shore. it was too dark for a picture. as we were turning in for the night 30 caribou came trotting and snorting through the camp. half of them crossed the water, but the rest turned back when billy shouted. later a band of two hundred passed through and around our tents. in the morning billy complained that he could not sleep all night for caribou travelling by his tent and stumbling over the guy ropes. from this time on we were nearly always in sight of caribou, small bands or scattering groups; one had the feeling that the whole land was like this, on and on and on, unlimited space with unlimited wild herds. a year afterward as i travelled in the fair state of illinois, famous for its cattle, i was struck by the idea that one sees far more caribou in the north than cattle, in illinois. this state has about 56,000 square miles, of land and 3,000,000 cattle; the arctic plains have over 1,000,000 square miles of prairie, which, allowing for the fact that i saw the best of the range, would set, the caribou number at over 30,000,000. there is a, good deal of evidence that this is not far from the truth. the reader may recollect the original postulate of my plan. other travellers have gone, relying on the abundant caribou, yet saw none, so starved. i relied on no caribou, i took plenty of groceries, and because i was independent, the caribou walked into camp nearly every day, and we lived largely on their meat, saving our groceries for an emergency, which came in an unexpected form. one morning when we were grown accustomed to this condition i said to billy: "how is the meat?" "nearly gone. we'll need another caribou about thursday." "you better get one now to be ready thursday. i do not like it so steaming fresh. see, there's a nice little buck on that hillside." "no, not him; why he is nearly half a mile off. i'd have to pack him in. let's wait till one comes in camp." which we did, and usually got our meat delivered near the door.' caribou meat fresh, and well prepared, has no superior, and the ideal way of cooking it is of course by roasting. fried meat is dried meat, boiled meat is spoiled meat, roast meat is best meat. how was it to be roasted at an open fire without continued vigilance? by a very simple contrivance that i invented at the time and now offer for the use of all campers. a wire held the leg; on the top of the wire was a paddle or shingle of wood; above that, beyond the heat, was a cord. the wind gives the paddle a push; it winds up the cord, which then unwinds itself. this goes on without fail and without effort, never still, and the roast is perfect. thus we were living on the fat of many lands and on the choicest fat of this. and what a region it is for pasture. at this place it reminds one of texas. open, grassy plains, sparser reaches of sand, long slopes of mesquite, mesas dotted with cedars and stretches of chapparal and soapweed. only, those vegetations here are willow, dwarf birch, tiny spruce, and ledum, and the country as a whole is far too green and rich. the emerald verdure of the shore, in not a few places, carried me back, to the west coast of ireland. chapter xxxiii the unknown the daily observations of route and landmark i can best leave for record on my maps. i had one great complaint against previous explorers (except tyrrell); that is, they left no monuments. aiming to give no ground of complaint against us, we made monuments at all important points. on the, night of august 8 we camped at cairn bay on the west side of casba lake, so named because of the five remarkable glacial cairns or conical stone-piles about it. on the top of one of these i left a monument, a six-foot pillar of large stones. on the afternoon of august 9 we passed the important headland that i have called "tyrrell point." here we jumped off his map into the unknown. i had, of course, the small chart drawn by sir george back in 1834, but it was hastily made under great difficulties, and, with a few exceptions, it seemed impossible to recognize his landscape features. next day i explored the east arm of clinton-colden and discovered the tributary that i have called "laurier river," and near its mouth made a cairn enclosing a caribou antler with inscription "e. t. seton, 10 aug., 1907." future travellers on this lake will find, as i did, that the conical butte in the eastern part is an important landmark. it is a glacial dump about 50 feet above the general level, which again is 100 feet above the water, visible and recognizable from nearly all parts of the lake. thus we went on day by day, sometimes detained by head or heavy winds, but making great progress in the calm, which nearly always came in the evening; 30 and 35 miles a day we went, led on and stimulated by the thirst to see and know. "i must see what is over that ridge," "i must make sure that this is an island," or "maybe from that lookout i shall see lake aylmer, or a band of caribou, yes, or even a band of musk-ox." always there was some reward, and nearly always it was a surprise. from time to time we came on snowbirds with their young broods, evidently at home. ptarmigan abounded. parry's groundsquirrel was found at nearly all points, including the large islands. the laplongspur swarmed everywhere; their loud "chee chups" were the first sounds to greet us each time we neared the land. and out over all the lake were loons, loons, loons. four species abound here; they caterwaul and yodel all day and all night, each in its own particular speech, from time to time a wild hyena chorus from the tranquil water in the purple sunset haze suggested, that a pack of goblin hounds were chivying a goblin buck, but it turned out always to be a family of red-throated loons, yodelling their inspiring marching song. one day when at gravel mountain, old weeso came to camp in evident fear--"far off he had seen a man." in this country a man must mean an eskimo; with them the indian has a long feud; of them he is in terror. we never learned the truth; i think he was mistaken. once or twice the long howl of the white wolf sounded from the shore, and every day we saw a few caribou. a great many of the single caribou were on the small islands. in six cases that came under close observation the animal in question had a broken leg. a broken leg generally evidences recent inroads by hunters, but the nearest indians were 200 miles to the south, and the nearest eskimo 300 miles to the north. there was every reason to believe that we were the only human beings in that vast region, and certainly we had broken no legs. every caribou fired at (8) had been secured and used. there is only one dangerous large enemy common in this country; that is the white wolf. and the more i pondered it, the more it seemed sure that the wolves had broken the caribous' legs. how! this is the history of each case: the caribou is so much swifter than the wolves that the latter have no chance in open chase; they therefore adopt the stratagem of a sneaking surround and a drive over the rocks or a precipice, where the caribou, if not actually killed, is more or less disabled. in some cases only a leg is broken, and then the caribou knows his only chance is to reach the water. here his wonderful powers of swimming make him easily safe, so much so that the wolves make no attempt to follow. the crippled deer makes for some island sanctuary, where he rests in peace till his leg is healed, or it may be, in some cases, till the freezing of the lake brings him again into the power of his floe. these six, then, were the cripples in hospital, and i hope our respectful behaviour did not inspire them with a dangerously false notion of humanity. on the island that i have called owl-and-hare, we saw the first white owl and the first arctic hare. in this country when you see a tree, you know perfectly well it is not a tree; it's the horns of a caribou. an unusually large affair of branches appeared on an island in the channel to aylmer. i landed, camera in hand; the caribou was lying down in the open, but there was a tuft of herbage 30 yards from him, another at 20 yards. i crawled to the first and made a snapshot, then, flat as a rug, sneaked my way to the one estimated at 20 yards. the click of the camera, alarmed the buck; he rose, tried the wind, then lay down again, giving me another chance. having used all the films, i now stood up. the caribou dashed away and by a slight limp showed that he was in sanctuary. the 20-yard estimate proved too long; it was only 16 yards, which put my picture a little out of focus. there never was a day, and rarely an hour of each day, that we did not see several caribou. and yet i never failed to get a thrill at each fresh one. "there's a caribou," one says with perennial intensity that is evidence of perennial pleasure in the sight. there never was one sighted that did not give us a happy sense of satisfaction--the thought "this is what we came for." chapter xxxiv aylmer lake one of my objects was to complete the ambiguous shore line of aylmer lake. the first task was to find the lake. so we left the narrows and pushed on and on, studying the back map, vainly trying to identify points, etc. once or twice we saw gaps ahead that seemed to open into the great inland sea of aylmer. but each in turn proved a mere bay.--on august 12 we left the narrows; on the 13th and 14th we journeyed westward seeking the open sea. on the morning of the 15th we ran into the final end of the farthest bay we could discover and camped at the mouth of a large river entering in. as usual, we landed--preble, billy, and i--to study topography, weeso to get firewood, and curiously enough, there was more firewood here than we had seen since leaving artillery lake. the reason of this appeared later. i was utterly puzzled. we had not yet found aylmer lake, and had discovered an important river that did not seem to be down on any map. we went a mile or two independently and studied the land from all the high hills; evidently we had crossed the only great sheet of water in the region. about noon, when all had assembled at camp, i said: "preble, why, isn't this lockhart's river, at the western extremity of aylmer lake?" the truth was dawning on me. he also had been getting light and slowly replied: "i have forty-nine reasons why it is, and none at all why it isn't." there could be no doubt of it now. the great open sea of aylmer was a myth. back never saw it; he passed in a fog, and put down with a query the vague information given him by the indians. this little irregular lake, much like clinton-colden, was aylmer. we had covered its length and were now at its farthest western end, at the mouth of lockhart's river. how i did wish that explorers would post up the names of the streets; it is almost as bad as in new york city. what a lot of time we might have saved had we known that sandy bay was in back's three-fingered peninsula! resolving to set a good example i left a monument at the mouth of the river. the kind of stone made it easy to form a cross on top. this will protect it from wandering indians; i do not know of anything that will protect it from wandering white men. chapter xxxv the musk-ox in the afternoon, preble, billy, and i went northward on foot to look for musk-ox. a couple of miles from camp i left the others and went more westerly. after wandering on for an hour, disturbing longspurs, snowbirds, pipits, groundsquirrel, and caribou, i came on a creature that gave me new thrills of pleasure. it was only a polar hare, the second we had seen; but its very scarceness here, at least this year, gave it unusual interest, and the hare itself helped the feeling by letting me get near it to study, sketch, and photograph. it was exactly like a prairie hare in all its manners, even to the method of holding its tail in running, and this is one of the most marked and distinctive peculiarities of the different kinds. on the 16th of august we left lockhart's river, knowing now that the north arm of the lake was our way. we passed a narrow bay out of which there seemed to be a current, then, on the next high land, noted a large brown spot that moved rather quickly along. it was undoubtedly some animal with short legs, whether a wolverine a mile away, or a musk-ox two miles away, was doubtful. now did that canoe put on its six-mile gait, and we soon knew for certain that the brown thing was a musk-ox. we were not yet in their country, but here was one of them to meet us. quickly we landed. guns and cameras were loaded. "don't fire till i get some pictures--unless he charges," were the orders. and then we raced after the great creature grazing from us. we had no idea whether he would run away or charge, but knew that our plan was to remain unseen as long as possible. so, hiding behind rocks when he looked around, and dashing forward when he grazed, we came unseen within two hundred yards, and had a good look at the huge woolly ox. he looked very much like an ordinary buffalo, the same in colour, size, and action. i never was more astray in my preconcept of any animal, for i had expected to see something like a large brown sheep. my, first film was fired. then, for some unknown reason, that musk-ox took it into his head to travel fast away from us, not even stopping to graze; he would soon have been over a rocky ridge. i nodded to preble. his rifle rang; the bull wheeled sharp about with an angry snort and came toward us. his head was up, his eye blazing, and he looked like a south african buffalo and a prairie bison combined, and seemed to get bigger at every moment. we were safely hidden behind rocks, some fifty yards from him now, when i got my second snap. realising the occasion, and knowing my men, i said: "now, preble, i am going to walk up to that bull and get a close picture. he will certainly charge me, as i shall be nearest and in full view. there is only one combination that can save my life: that is you and that rifle." then with characteristic loquacity did preble reply: "go ahead." i fixed my camera for twenty yards and quit the sheltering rock. the bull snorted, shook his head, took aim, and just before the precious moment was to arrive a heavy shot behind me, rang out, the bull staggered and fell, shot through the heart, and weeso cackled aloud in triumph. how i cursed the meddling old fool. he had not understood. he saw, as he supposed, "the okimow in peril of his life," and acted according to the dictates of his accursedly poor discretion. never again shall he carry a rifle with me. so the last scene came not, but we had the trophy of a musk-ox that weighed nine hundred pounds in life and stood five feet high at the shoulders--a world's record in point of size. now we must camp perforce to save the specimen. measurements, photos, sketches, and weights were needed, then the skinning and preparing would be a heavy task for all. in the many portages afterwards the skull was part of my burden; its weight was actually forty pounds, its heaviness was far over a hundred. what extraordinary luck we were having. it was impossible in our time limit to reach the summer haunt of the caribou on the arctic coast, therefore the caribou came to us in their winter haunt on the artillery lake. we did not expect to reach the real musk-ox country on the lower back river, so the musk-ox sought us out on aylmer lake. and yet one more piece of luck is to be recorded. that night something came in our tent and stole meat. the next night billy set a trap and secured the thief--an arctic fox in summer coat. we could not expect to go to him in his summer home, so he came to us. while the boys were finishing the dressing of the bull's hide, i, remembering the current from the last bay, set out on foot over the land to learn the reason. a couple of miles brought me to a ridge from which i made the most important geographical discovery of the journey. stretching away before me to the far dim north-west was a great, splendid river--broad, two hundred yards wide in places, but averaging seventy or eighty yards across--broken by white rapids and waterfalls, but blue deep in the smoother stretches and emptying into the bay we had noticed. so far as the record showed, i surely was the first white man to behold it. i went to the margin; it was stocked with large trout. i followed it up a couple of miles and was filled with the delight of discovery. "earl grey river"', i have been privileged to name it after the distinguished statesman, now governor-general of canada. then and there i built a cairn, with a record of my visit, and sitting on a hill with the new river below me, i felt that there was no longer any question of the expedition's success. the entire programme was carried out. i had proved the existence of abundance of caribou, had explored aylmer lake, had discovered two great rivers, and, finally, had reached the land of the musk-ox and secured a record-breaker to bring away. this i felt was the supreme moment of the journey. realizing the farness of my camp, from human abode--it could scarcely have been farther on the continent--my thoughts flew back to the dear ones at home, and my comrades, the men of the camp-fire club. i wondered if their thoughts were with me at the time. how they must envy me the chance of launching into the truly unknown wilderness, a land still marked on the maps as "unexplored!" how i enjoyed the thoughts of their sympathy over our probable perils and hardships, and imagined them crowding around me with hearty greetings on my safe return! alas! for the rush of a great city's life and crowds, i found out later that these, my companions, did not even know that i had been away from new york. chapter xxxvi the arctic prairies and my farthest north camp musk-ox provided many other items of interest besides the great river, the big musk-ox, and the arctic fox. here preble secured a groundsquirrel with its cheek-pouches full of mushrooms and shot a cock ptarmigan whose crop was crammed with leaves of willow and birch, though the ground was bright with berries of many kinds. the last evening we were there a white wolf followed billy into camp, keeping just beyond reach of his shotgun; and, of course, we saw caribou every hour or two. "all aboard," was the cry on the morning of august 19, and once more we set out. we reached the north arm of the lake, then turned north-eastward. in the evening i got photos of a polar hare, the third we had seen. the following day (august 20), at noon, we camped in sandhill bay, the north point of aylmer lake and the northernmost point of our travels by canoe. it seems that we were the fourth party of white men to camp on this spot. captain george back, 1833-34. stewart and anderson, 1855. warburton pike, 1890. e. t. seton, 1907. all day long we had seen small bands of caribou. a score now appeared on a sandhill half a mile away; another and another lone specimen trotted past our camp. one of these stopped and gave us an extraordinary exhibition of agility in a sort of st. vitus's jig, jumping, kicking, and shaking its head; i suspect the nose-worms were annoying it. while we lunched, a fawn came and gazed curiously from a distance of 100 yards. in the after-noon preble returned from a walk to say that the caribou were visible in all directions, but not in great bands. next morning i was awakened by a caribou clattering through camp within 30 feet of my tent. after breakfast we set off on foot northward to seek for musk-ox, keeping to the eastward of the great fish river. the country is rolling, with occasional rocky ridges and long, level meadows in the lowlands, practically all of it would be considered horse country; and nearly every meadow had two or three grazing caribou. about noon, when six or seven miles north of aylmer, we halted for rest and lunch on the top of the long ridge of glacial dump that lies to the east of great fish river. and now we had a most complete and spectacular view of the immense open country that we had come so far to see. it was spread before us like a huge, minute, and wonderful chart, and plainly marked with the processes of its shaping-time. imagine a region of low archaean hills, extending one thousand miles each way, subjected for thousands of years to a continual succession of glaciers, crushing, grinding, planing, smoothing, ripping up and smoothing again, carrying off whole ranges of broken hills, in fragments, to dump them at some other point, grind them again while there, and then push and hustle them out of that region into some other a few hundred miles farther; there again to tumble and grind them together, pack them into the hollows, and dump them in pyramidal piles on plains and uplands. imagine this going on for thousands of years, and we shall have the hills lowered and polished, the valleys more or less filled with broken rocks. now the glacial action is succeeded by a time of flood. for another age all is below water, dammed by the northern ice, and icebergs breaking from the parent sheet carry bedded in them countless boulders, with which they go travelling south on the open waters. as they melt the boulders are dropped; hill and hollow share equally in this age-long shower of erratics. nor does it cease till the progress of the warmer day removes the northern ice-dam, sets free the flood, and the region of archaean rocks stands bare and dry. it must have been a dreary spectacle at that time, low, bare hills of gneiss, granite, etc.; low valleys half-filled with broken rock and over everything a sprinkling of erratic boulders; no living thing in sight, nothing green, nothing growing, nothing but evidence of mighty power used only to destroy. a waste of shattered granite spotted with hundreds of lakes, thousands of lakelets, millions of ponds that are marvellously blue, clear, and lifeless. but a new force is born on the scene; it attacks not this hill or rock, or that loose stone, but on every point of every stone and rock in the vast domain, it appears--the lowest form of lichen, a mere stain of gray. this spreads and by its own corrosive power eats foothold on the granite; it fructifies in little black velvet spots. then one of lilac flecks the pink tones of the granite, to help the effect. soon another kind follows--a pale olive-green lichen that fruits in bumps of rich brown velvet; then another branching like a tiny tree--there is a ghostly kind like white chalk rubbed lightly on, and yet another of small green blots, and one like a sprinkling of scarlet snow; each, in turn, of a higher and larger type, which in due time prepares the way for mosses higher still. in the less exposed places these come forth, seeking the shade, searching for moisture, they form like small sponges on a coral reef; but growing, spread and change to meet the changing contours of the land they win, and with every victory or upward move, adopt some new refined intensive tint that is the outward and visible sign of their diverse inner excellences and their triumph. ever evolving they spread, until there are great living rugs of strange textures and oriental tones; broad carpets there are of gray and green; long luxurious lanes, with lilac mufflers under foot, great beds of a moss so yellow chrome, so spangled with intense red sprigs, that they might, in clumsy hands, look raw. there are knee-deep breadths of polytrichum, which blends in the denser shade into a moss of delicate crimson plush that baffles description. down between the broader masses are bronze-green growths that run over each slight dip and follow down the rock crannies like streams of molten brass. thus the whole land is overlaid with a living, corrosive mantle of activities as varied as its hues. for ages these toil on, improving themselves, and improving the country by filing down the granite and strewing the dust around each rock. the frost, too, is at work, breaking up the granite lumps; on every ridge there is evidence of that--low, rounded piles of stone which plainly are the remnants of a boulder, shattered by the cold. thus, lichen, moss, and frost are toiling to grind the granite surfaces to dust. much of this powdered rock is washed by rain into the lakes and ponds; in time these cut their exits down, and drain, leaving each a broad mud-flat. the climate mildens and the south winds cease not, so that wind-borne grasses soon make green meadows of the broad lake-bottom flats. the process climbs the hill-slopes; every little earthy foothold for a plant is claimed by some new settler, until each low hill is covered to the top with vegetation graded to its soil, and where the flowering kinds cannot establish themselves, the lichen pioneers still maintain their hold. rarely, in the landscape, now, is any of the primitive colour of the rocks; even the tall, straight cliffs of aylmer are painted and frescoed with lichens that flame and glitter with purple and orange, silver and gold. how precious and fertile the ground is made to seem, when every square foot of it is an exquisite elfin garden made by the little people, at infinite cost, filled with dainty flowers and still later embellished with delicate fruit. one of the wonderful things about these children of the barrens is the great size of fruit and flower compared with the plant. the cranberry, the crowberry, the cloudberry, etc., produce fruit any one of which might outweigh the herb itself. nowhere does one get the impression that these are weeds, as often happens among the rank growths farther south. the flowers in the wildest profusion are generally low, always delicate and mostly in beds of a single species. the lalique jewelry was the sensation of the paris exposition of 1899. yet here is lalique renewed and changed for every week in the season and lavished on every square foot of a region that is a million square miles in extent. not a cranny in a rock but is seized on at once by the eager little gardeners in charge and made a bed of bloom, as though every inch of room were priceless. and yet nature here exemplifies the law that our human gardeners are only learning: "mass your bloom, to gain effect." as i stood on that hill, the foreground was a broad stretch of old gold--the shining sandy yellow of drying grass--but it was patched with large scarlet mats of arctous that would put red maple to its reddest blush. there was no highland heather here, but there were whole hillsides of purple red vaccinium, whose leaves were but a shade less red than its luscious grape-hued fruit. here were white ledums in roods and acre beds; purple mairanias by the hundred acres, and, framed in lilac rocks, were rich, rank meadows of golden-green by the mile. there were leagues and leagues of caribou moss, pale green or lilac, and a hundred others in clumps, that, seeing here the glory of the painted mosses, were simulating their ways, though they themselves were the not truly mosses at all. i never before saw such a realm of exquisite flowers so exquisitely displayed, and the effect at every turn throughout the land was colour, colour, colour, to as far outdo the finest autumn tints of new england as the colorado canyon outdoes the hoosac gorge. what nature can do only in october, elsewhere, she does here all season through, as though when she set out to paint the world she began on the barrens with a full palette and when she reached the tropics had nothing left but green. thus at every step one is wading through lush grass or crushing prairie blossoms and fruits. it is so on and on; in every part of the scene, there are but few square feet that do not bloom with flowers and throb with life; yet this is the region called the barren lands of the north. and the colour is an index of its higher living forms, for this is the chosen home of the swans and wild geese; many of the ducks, the ptarmigan, the laplongspur and snowbunting. the blue lakes echo with the wailing of the gulls and the eerie magic calling of the loons. colonies of lemmings, voles, or groundsquirrels are found on every sunny slope; the wolverine and the white wolf find this a land of plenty, for on every side, as i stood on that high hill, were to be seen small groups of caribou. this was the land and these the creatures i had come to see. this was my farthest north and this was the culmination of years of dreaming. how very good it seemed at the time, but how different and how infinitely more delicate and satisfying was the realisation than any of the day-dreams founded on my vision through the eyes of other men. chapter xxxvii facing homeward on this hill we divided, preble and billy going northward; weeso and i eastward, all intent on finding a herd of musk-ox; for this was the beginning of their range. there was one continual surprise as we journeyed--the willows that were mere twigs on aylmer lake increased in size and were now plentiful and as high as our heads, with stems two or three inches thick. this was due partly to the decreased altitude and partly to removal from the broad, cold sheet of aylmer, which, with its july ice, must tend to lower the summer temperature. for a long time we tramped eastward, among hills and meadows, with caribou. then, at length, turned south again and, after a 20-mile tramp, arrived in camp at 6.35, having seen no sign whatever of musk-ox, although this is the region where pike found them common; on july 1, 1890, at the little lake where we lunched, his party killed seven out of a considerable band. at 9.30 that night preble and billy returned. they had been over icy river, easily recognised by the thick ice still on its expansions, and on to musk-ox lake, without seeing any fresh tracks of a musk-ox. as they came into camp a white wolf sneaked away. rain began at 6 and continued a heavy storm all night. in the morning it was still in full blast, so no one rose until 9.30, when billy, starved out of his warm bed, got up to make breakfast. soon i heard him calling: "mr. seton, here's a big wolf in camp!" "bring him in here," i said. then a rifle-shot was heard, another, and billy appeared, dragging a huge white wolf. (he is now to be seen in the american museum.) all that day and the next night the storm raged. even the presence of caribou bands did not stimulate us enough to face the sleet. next day it was dry, but too windy to travel. billy now did something that illustrates at once the preciousness of firewood, and the pluck, strength, and reliability of my cook. during his recent tramp he found a low, rocky hollow full of large, dead willows. it was eight miles back; nevertheless he set out, of his own free will; tramped the eight miles, that wet, blustery day, and returned in five and one-half hours, bearing on his back a heavy load, over 100 pounds of most acceptable firewood. sixteen miles afoot for a load of wood! but it seemed well worth it as we revelled in the blessed blaze. next day two interesting observations were made; down by the shore i found the midden-heap of a lemming family. it contained about four hundred pellets: their colour and dryness, with the absence of grass, showed that they dated from winter. in the evening the four of us witnessed the tragic end of a lap-longspur. pursued by a fierce skua gull, it unfortunately dashed out over the lake. in vain then it darted up and down, here and there, high and low; the skua followed even more quickly. a second skua came flying to help, but was not needed. with a falcon-like swoop, the pirate seized the longspur in his bill and bore it away to be devoured at the nearest perch. at 7.30 a. m., august 24, 1907, surrounded by scattering caribou, we pushed off from our camp at sand hill bay and began the return journey. at wolf-den point we discovered a large and ancient wolf-den in the rocks; also abundance of winter sign of musk-ox. that day we made forty miles and camped for the night on the sand hill mountain in tha-na-koie, the channel that joins aylmer and clinton-colden. here we were detained by high winds until the 28th. this island is a favourite caribou crossing, and billy and weeso had pitched their tents right on the place selected by the caribou for their highway. next day, while scanning the country from the top of the mount, i saw three caribou trotting along. they swam the river and came toward me. as billy and weeso were in their tents having an afternoon nap, i thought it would be a good joke to stampede the caribou on top of them, so waited behind a rock, intending to jump out as soon as they were past me. they followed the main trail at a trot, and i leaped out with "horrid yells" when they passed my rock, but now the unexpected happened. "in case of doubt take to the water" is caribou wisdom, so, instead of dashing madly into the tents, they made three desperate down leaps and plunged into the deep water, then calmly swam for the other shore, a quarter of a mile away. this island proved a good place for small mammals. here preble got our first specimen of the white lemming. large islands usually prove better for small mammals than the mainland. they have the same conditions to support life, but being moated by the water are usually without the larger predatory quadrupeds. the great central inland of clinton-colden proved the best place of all for groundsquirrels. here we actually found them in colonies. on the 29th and 30th we paddled and surveyed without ceasing and camped beyond the rapid at the exit of clinton-colden. the next afternoon we made the exit rapids of casba lake. preble was preparing to portage them, but asked weeso, "can we run them?" weeso landed, walked to a view-point, took a squinting look and said, "ugh!" (yes). preble rejoined, "all right! if he says he can, he surely can. that's the indian of it. a white man takes risks; an indian will not; if it is risky he'll go around." so we ran the rapids in safety. lighter each day, as the food was consumed, our elegant canoe went faster. when not detained by heavy seas 30 or 40 miles a day was our journey. on august 30 we made our last 6 miles in one hour and 6 1/2 minutes. on september 2, in spite of head-winds, we made 36 miles in 8 1/4 hours and in the evening we skimmed over the glassy surface of artillery lake, among its many beautiful islands and once more landed at our old ground--the camp in the last woods. chapter xxxviii the first woods how shall i set forth the feelings it stirred? none but the shipwrecked sailor, long drifting on the open sea, but come at last to land, can fully know the thrill it gave us. we were like starving indians suddenly surrounded by caribou. wood--timber--fuel--galore! it was hard to realise--but there it was, all about us, and in the morning we were awakened by the sweet, sweet, home-like song of the robins in the trees, singing their "cheerup, cheerily," just as they do it in ontario and connecticut. our cache was all right; so, our stock of luxuries was replenished. we now had unlimited food as well as unlimited firewood; what more could any one ask? yet there was more. the weather was lovely; perfect summer days, and the mosquitoes were gone, yes, now actually nets and flybars were discarded for good. on every side was animal life in abundance; the shimmering lake with its loons and islands would fit exactly the indian's dream of the heavenly hunting-grounds. these were the happy halcyon days of the trip, and we stayed a week to rest and revel in the joys about us. in the morning i took a long walk over the familiar hills; the various skeletons we had left were picked bare, evidently by gulls and ravens, as no bones were broken and even the sinews were left. there were many fresh tracks of single caribou going here and there, but no trails of large bands. i sent weeso off to the indian village, two miles south. he returned to say that it was deserted and that, therefore, the folk had gone after the caribou, which doubtless were now in the woods south of artillery lake. again the old man was wholly astray in his caribou forecast. that night there was a sharp frost; the first we had had. it made nearly half an inch of ice in all kettles. why is ice always thickest on the kettles? no doubt because they hold a small body of very still water surrounded by highly conductive metal. billy went "to market" yesterday, killing a nice, fat little caribou. this morning on returning to bring in the rest of the meat we found that a wolverine had been there and lugged the most of it away. the tracks show that it was an old one accompanied by one or maybe two young ones. we followed them some distance but lost all trace in a long range of rocks. the wolverine is one of the typical animals of the far north. it has an unenviable reputation for being the greatest plague that the hunter knows. its habit of following to destroy all traps for the sake of the bait is the prime cause of man's hatred, and its cleverness in eluding his efforts at retaliation give it still more importance. it is, above all, the dreaded enemy of a cache, and as already seen, we took the extra precaution of putting our caches up trees that were protected by a necklace of fishhooks. most northern travellers have regaled us with tales of this animal's diabolical cleverness and wickedness. it is fair to say that the malice, at least, is not proven; and there is a good side to wolverine character that should be emphasized; that is, its nearly ideal family life, coupled with the heroic bravery of the mother. i say "nearly" ideal, for so far as i can learn, the father does not assist in rearing the young. but all observers agree that the mother is absolutely fearless and devoted. more than one of the hunters have assured me that it is safer to molest a mother bear than a mother wolverine when accompanied by the cubs. bellalise, a half-breed of chipewyan, told me that twice he had found wolverine dens, and been seriously endangered by the mother. the first was in mid-may, 1904, near fond du lac, north side of lake athabaska. he went out with an indian to bring in a skiff left some miles off on the shore. he had no gun, and was surprised by coming on an old wolverine in a slight hollow under the boughs of a green spruce. she rushed at him, showing all her teeth, her eyes shining blue, and uttering sounds like those of a bear. the indian boy hit her once with a stick, then swung himself out of danger up a tree. bellalise ran off after getting sight of the young ones; they were four in number, about the size of a muskrat, and pure white. their eyes were open. the nest was just such as a dog might make, only six inches deep and lined with a little dry grass. scattered around were bones and fur, chiefly of rabbits. the second occasion was in 1905, within three miles of chipewyan, and, as before, about the middle of may. the nest was much like the first one; the mother saw him coming, and charged furiously, uttering a sort of coughing. he shot her dead; then captured the young and examined the nest; there were three young this time. they were white like the others. not far from this camp, we found a remarkable midden-yard of lemmings. it was about 10 feet by 40 feet, the ground within the limits was thickly strewn with pellets, at the rate of 14 to the square inch, but nowhere were they piled up. at this reckoning, there were over 800,000, but there were also many outside, which probably raised the number to 1,000,000. each pellet was long, brown, dry, and curved, i.e., the winter type. the place, a high, dry, very sheltered hollow, was evidently the winter range of a colony of lemmings that in summer went elsewhere, i suppose to lower, damper grounds. after sunset, september 5, a bunch of three or four caribou trotted past the tents between us and the lake, 200 yards from us; billy went after them, as, thanks to the wolverine, we were out of meat, and at one shot secured a fine young buck. his last winter's coat was all shed now, his ears were turning white and the white areas were expanding on feet and buttocks; his belly was pure white. on his back and rump, chiefly the latter, were the scars of 121 bots. i could not see that they affected the skin or, hair in the least. although all of these caribou seem to have the normal foot-click, preble and i worked in vain with the feet of this, dead one to make the sound; we could not by any combination of movement, or weight or simulation of natural conditions, produce anything like a "click." that same day, as we sat on a hill, a cow caribou came curiously toward us. at 100 yards she circled slowly, gazing till she got the wind 150 yards to one side, then up went her tail and off she trotted a quarter of a mile, but again drew nearer, then circled as before till a second time the wind warned her to flee. this she did three or four times before trotting away; the habit is often seen. next afternoon, billy and i saw a very large buck; his neck was much swollen, his beard flowing and nearly white. he sighted us afar, and worked north-west away from us, in no great alarm. i got out of sight, ran a mile and a half, headed him off, then came on him from the north, but in spite of all i could do by running and yelling, he and his band (3 cows with 3 calves) rushed galloping between me and the lake, 75 yards away. he was too foxy to be driven back into that suspicious neighbourhood. thus we had fine opportunities for studying wild life. in all these days there was only one unfulfilled desire: i had not seen the great herd of caribou returning to the woods that are their winter range. this herd is said to rival in numbers the buffalo herds of story, to reach farther than the eye can see, and to be days in passing a given point; but it is utterly erratic. it might arrive in early september. it was not sure to arrive until late october, when the winter had begun. this year all the indications were that it would be late. if we were to wait for it, it would mean going out on the ice. for this we were wholly unprepared. there were no means of getting the necessary dogs, sleds, and fur garments; my business was calling me back to the east. it was useless to discuss the matter, decision was forced on me. therefore, without having seen that great sight, one of the world's tremendous zoological spectacles the march in one body of millions of caribou--i reluctantly gave the order to start. on september 8 we launched the ann seton on her homeward voyage of 1,200 upstream miles. chapter xxxix farewell to the caribou all along the shore of artillery lake we saw small groups of caribou. they were now in fine coat; the manes on the males were long and white and we saw two with cleaned antlers; in one these were of a brilliant red, which i suppose meant that they were cleaned that day and still bloody. we arrived at the south end of artillery lake that night, and were now again in the continuous woods what spindly little stuff it looked when we left it; what superb forest it looked now--and here we bade good-bye to the prairies and their caribou. now, therefore, i shall briefly summarise the information i gained about this notable creature. the species ranges over all the treeless plains and islands of arctic america. while the great body is migratory, there are scattered individuals in all parts at all seasons. the main body winters in the sheltered southern third of the range, to avoid the storms, and moves north in the late spring, to avoid the plagues of deer-flies and mosquitoes. the former are found chiefly in the woods, the latter are bad everywhere; by travelling against the wind a certain measure of relief is secured, northerly winds prevail, so the caribou are kept travelling northward. when there is no wind, the instinctive habit of migration doubtless directs the general movement. how are we to form an idea of their numbers? the only way seems to be by watching the great migration to its winter range. for the reasons already given this was impossible in my case, therefore, i array some of the known facts that will evidence the size of the herd. warburton pike, who saw them at mackay lake, october 20, 1889, says: "i cannot believe that the herds [of buffalo] on the prairie ever surpassed in size la foule (the throng) of the caribou. la foule had really come, and during its passage of six days i was able to realize what an extraordinary number of these animals still roam the barren grounds." from figures and facts given me by h. t. munn, of brandon, manitoba, i reckon that in three weeks following july 25, 1892, he saw at artillery lake (n. latitude 62 1/2 degrees, w. long. 112 degrees) not less than 2,000,000 caribou travelling southward; he calls this merely the advance guard of the great herd. colonel jones (buffalo jones), who saw the herd in october at clinton-colden, has given me personally a description that furnishes the basis for an interesting calculation of their numbers. he stood on a hill in the middle of the passing throng, with a clear view ten miles each way and it was one army of caribou. how much further they spread, he did not know. sometimes they were bunched, so that a hundred were on a space one hundred feet square; but often there would be spaces equally large without any. they averaged at least one hundred caribou to the acre; and they passed him at the rate of about three miles an hour. he did not know how long they were in passing this point; but at another place they were four days, and travelled day and night. the whole world seemed a moving mass of caribou. he got the impression at last that they were standing still and he was on a rocky hill that was rapidly running through their hosts. even halving these figures, to keep on the safe side, we find that the number of caribou in this army was over 25,000,000. yet it is possible that there are several such armies. in which case they must indeed out-number the buffalo in their palmiest epoch. so much for their abundance to-day. to what extent are they being destroyed? i looked into this question with care. first, of the indian destruction. in 1812 the chipewyan population, according to kennicott, was 7,500. thomas anderson, of fort smith, showed me a census of the mackenzie river indians, which put them at 3,961 in 1884. official returns of the canadian government give them in 1905 at 3,411, as follows: peel . . . . . . . . . . 400 arctic red river . . . . . . 100 good hope . . . . . . . . 500 norman . . . . . . . . . 300 wrigley . . . . . . . . . 100 simpson . . . . . . . . . 300 rae . . . . . . . . . . 800 liard and nelson . . . . . . 400 yellowknives . . . . . . . 151 dogribs . . . . . . . . . 123 chipewyans . . . . . . . . 123 hay river . . . . . . . . 114 ---- 3,411 of these the hay river and liard indians, numbering about 500, can scarcely be considered caribou-eaters, so that the indian population feeding on caribou to-day is about 3,000, less than half what it was 100 years ago. of these not more than 600 are hunters. the traders generally agree that the average annual kill of caribou is about 10 or 20 per man, not more. when george sanderson, of fort resolution, got 75 one year, it was the talk of the country; many got none. thus 20,000 per annum killed by the indians is a liberal estimate to-day. there has been so much talk about destruction by whalers that i was careful to gather all available information. several travellers who had visited hershell island told me that four is the usual number of whalers that winter in the north-east of point barrow. sometimes, but rarely, the number is increased to eight or ten, never more. they buy what caribou they can from eskimo, sometimes aggregating 300 or 400 carcasses in a winter, and would use more if they could get them, but they cannot, as the caribou herds are then far south. this, e. sprake jones, william hay, and others, are sure represents fairly the annual destruction by whalers on the north coast. only one or two vessels of this traffic go into hudson's bay, and these with those of hershell are all that touch caribou country, so that the total destruction by whalers must be under 1,000 head per annum. the eskimo kill for their own use. franz boas ("handbook of american indians") gives the number of eskimo in the central region at 1,100. of these not more than 300 are hunters. if we allow their destruction to equal that of the 600 indians, it is liberal, giving a total of 40,000 caribou killed by native hunters. as the whites rarely enter the region, this is practically all the destruction by man. the annual increase of 30,000,000 caribou must be several millions and would so far overbalance the hunter toll that the latter cannot make any permanent difference. there is, moreover, good evidence that the native destruction has diminished. as already seen, the tribes which hunt the barren-ground caribou, number less than one-half of what they did 100 years ago. since then, they have learned to use the rifle, and this, i am assured by all the traders, has lessened the destruction. by the old method, with the spear in the water, or in the pound trap, one native might kill 100 caribou in one day, during the migrations; but these methods called for woodcraft and were very laborious. the rifle being much easier, has displaced the spear; but there is a limit to its destruction, especially with cartridges at five cents to seven cents each, and, as already seen, the hunters do not average 20 caribou each in a year. thus, all the known facts point to a greatly diminished slaughter to-day when compared with that of 100 years ago. this, then, is my summary of the barren-ground caribou between the mackenzie river and hudson's bay. they number over 30,000,000, and may be double of that. they are in primitive conditions and probably never more numerous than now. the native destruction is less now than formerly and never did make any perceptible difference. finally, the matter has by no means escaped the attention of the wide-awake canadian government represented by the minister of the interior and the royal north-west mounted police. it could not be in better hands; and there is no reason to fear in any degree a repetition of the buffalo slaughter that disgraced the plains of the united states. chapter xl old fort reliance to fort resolution all night the storm of rain and snow raged around our camp on the south shore of artillery lake, but we were up and away in the morning in spite of it. that day, we covered five portages (they took two days in coming out). next day we crossed lake harry and camped three-quarters of a mile farther on the long portage. next day, september 11, we camped (still in storm) at the lobstick landing of great slave lake. how tropically rich all this vegetation looked after the "land of little sticks." rain we could face, but high winds on the big water were dangerous, so we were storm-bound until september 14, when we put off, and in two hours were at old fort reliance, the winter quarters of sir george back in 1833-4. in the far north the word "old" means "abandoned" and the fort, abandoned long ago, had disappeared, except the great stone chimneys. around one of these that intrepid explorer and hunter-buffalo jones-had built a shanty in 1897. there it stood in fairly good condition, a welcome shelter from the storm which now set in with redoubled fury. we soon had the big fireplace aglow and, sitting there in comfort that we owed to him, and surrounded by the skeletons of the wolves that he had killed about the door in that fierce winter time, we drank in hot and copious tea the toast: long life and prosperity to our host so far away, the brave old hunter, "buffalo jones." the woods were beautiful and abounded with life, and the three days we spent there were profitably devoted to collecting, but on september 17 we crossed the bay, made the short portage, and at night camped 32 miles away, on the home track. next morning we found a camp of indians down to the last of their food. we supplied them with flour and tobacco. they said that no caribou had come to the lake, showing how erratic is the great migration. in the afternoon we came across another band in still harder luck. they had nothing whatever but the precarious catch of the nets, and this was the off-season. again we supplied them, and these were among the unexpected emergencies for which our carefully guarded supplies came in. in spite of choppy seas we made from 30 to 35 miles a day, and camped on tal-thel-lay the evening of september 20. that night as i sat by the fire the moon rose in a clear sky and as i gazed on her calm bright disc something seemed to tell me that at that moment the dear ones far away were also looking on that radiant face. on the 21st we were storm-bound at et-then island, but utilised the time collecting. i gathered a lot of roots of pulsatilla and calypso. here billy amused us by catching wiskajons in an old-fashioned springle that dated from the days when guns were unknown; but the captured birds came back fearlessly each time after being released. all that day we had to lie about camp, keeping under cover on account of the rain. it was dreary work listening to the surf ceaselessly pounding the shore and realising that all these precious hours were needed to bring us to fort resolution, where the steamer was to meet us on the 25th. on the 23d it was calmer and we got away in the gray dawn at 5.45. we were now in weeso's country, and yet he ran us into a singular pocket that i have called weeso's trap--a straight glacial groove a mile long that came to a sudden end and we had to go back that mile. the old man was much mortified over his blunder, but he did not feel half so badly about it as i did, for every hour was precious now. what a delight it was to feel our canoe skimming along under the four paddles. three times as fast we travelled now as when we came out with the bigger boat; 5 1/2 miles an hour was frequently our rate and when we camped that night we had covered 47 miles since dawn. on kahdinouay we camped and again a storm arose to pound and bluster all night. in spite of a choppy sea next day we reached the small island before the final crossing; and here, perforce, we stayed to await a calmer sea. later we heard that during this very storm a canoe-load of indians attempted the crossing and upset; none were swimmers, all were drowned. we were not the only migrants hurrying southward. here for the first time in my life i saw wild swans, six in a flock. they were heading southward and flew not in very orderly array, but ever changing, occasionally forming the triangle after the manner of geese. they differ from geese in flapping more slowly, from white cranes in flapping faster, and seemed to vibrate only the tips of the wings. this was on the 23d. next day we saw another flock of seven; i suppose that in each case it was the old one and young of the year. as they flew they uttered three different notes: a deep horn-like "too" or "coo," a higher pitched "coo," and a warble-like "tootle-tootle," or sometimes simply "tee-tee." maybe the last did not come from the swans, but no other birds were near; i suppose that these three styles of notes came from male, female, and young. next morning 7 flocks of swans flew overhead toward the south-west. they totalled 46; 12 were the most in one flock. in this large flock i saw a quarrel no. 2 turned back and struck no. 3, his long neck bent and curled like a snake, both dropped downward several feet then 3, 4 and 5 left that flock. i suspect they were of another family. but, later, as we entered the river mouth we had a thrilling glimpse of swan life. flock after flock came in view as we rounded the rush beds; 12 flocks in all we saw, none had less than 5 in it, nearly 100 swans in sight, at once, and all rose together with a mighty flapping of strong, white wings, and the chorus of the insignificant "too-too-tees" sailed farther southward, probably to make the great swan tryst on hay river. no doubt these were the same 12 flocks as those observed on the previous days, but still it rejoiced my heart to see even that many. i had feared that the species was far gone on the trail of the passenger pigeon. but this is anticipating. we were camped still on the island north of the traverse, waiting for possible water. all day we watched in vain, all night the surf kept booming, but at three in the morning the wind dropped, at four it was obviously calmer. i called the boys and we got away before six; dashing straight south in spite of rolling seas we crossed the 15-mile stretch in 3 3/4 hours, and turning westward reached stony island by noon. thence southward through ever calmer water our gallant boat went spinning, reeling off the level miles up the river channel, and down again on its south-west branch, in a glorious red sunset, covering in one day the journeys of four during our outgoing, in the supposedly far speedier york boat. faster and faster we seemed to fly, for we had the grand incentive that we must catch the steamer at any price that night. weeso now, for the first time, showed up strong; knowing every yard of the way he took advantage of every swirl of the river; in and out among the larger islands we darted, and when we should have stopped for the night no man said "stop", but harder we paddled. we could smell the steamer smoke, we thought, and pictured her captain eagerly scanning the offing for our flying canoe; it was most inspiring and the ann seton jumped up to 6 miles an hour for a time. so we went; the night came down, but far away were the glittering lights of fort resolution, and the steamer that should end our toil. how cheering. the skilly pilot and the lusty paddler slacked not--40 miles we had come that day--and when at last some 49, nearly 50, paddled miles brought us stiff and weary to the landing it was only to learn that the steamer, notwithstanding bargain set and agreed on, had gone south two days before. chapter xli going up the lower slave what we thought about the steamboat official who was responsible for our dilemma we did not need to put into words; for every one knew of the bargain and its breach: nearly every one present had protested at the time, and the hardest things i felt like saying were mild compared with the things already said by that official's own colleagues. but these things were forgotten in the hearty greetings of friends and bundles of letters from home. it was eight o'clock, and of course black night when we landed; yet it was midnight when we thought of sleep. fort resolution is always dog-town; and now it seemed at its worst. when the time came to roll up in our blankets, we were fully possessed of the camper's horror of sleeping indoors; but it was too dark to put up a tent and there was not a square foot of ground anywhere near that was not polluted and stinking of "dog-sign," so very unwillingly i broke my long spell of sleeping out, on this 131st day, and passed the night on the floor of the hudson's bay company house. i had gone indoors to avoid the "dog-sign" and next morning found, alas, that i had been lying all night on "cat-sign." i say lying; i did not sleep. the closeness of the room, in spite of an open window, the novelty, the smells, combined with the excitement of letters from home, banished sleep until morning came, and, of course, i got a bad cold, the first i had had all summer. here i said "good-bye" to old weeso. he grinned affably, and when i asked what he would like for a present said, "send me an axe like yours," there were three things in my outfit that aroused the cupidity of nearly every indian, the winchester rifle, the peterboro canoe and the marble axe, "the axe that swallows its face." weeso had a rifle, we could not spare or send him a canoe, so i promised to send him the axe. post is slow, but it reached him six months later and i doubt not is even now doing active service. having missed the last steamer, we must go on by canoe. canoeing up the river meant "tracking" all the way; that is, the canoe must be hauled up with a line, by a man walking on the banks; hard work needing not only a strong, active man, but one who knows the river. through the kindness of j. mcleneghan, of the swiggert trading company, i was spared the horrors of my previous efforts to secure help at fort resolution, and george sanderson, a strong young half-breed, agreed to take me to fort smith for $2.00 a day and means of returning. george was a famous hunter and fisher, and a "good man" to travel. i marked his broad shoulders and sinewy, active form with joy, especially in view of his reputation. in one respect he was different from all other half-breeds that i ever knew--he always gave a straight answer. ask an ordinary half-breed, or western white man, indeed, how far it is to such a point, his reply commonly is, "oh, not so awful far," or "it is quite a piece," or "it aint such a hell of a ways," conveying to the stranger no shadow of idea whether it is a hundred yards, a mile, or a week's travel. again and again when sanderson was asked how far it was to a given place, he would pause and say, "three miles and a half," or "little more than eight miles," as the case might be. the usual half-breed when asked if we could make such a point by noon would say "maybe. i don't know. it is quite a piece." sanderson would say, "yes," or "no, not by two miles," according to circumstances; and his information was always correct; he knew the river "like a book." on the afternoon of september 27 we left "dogtown" with sanderson in weeso's place and began our upward journey. george proved as good as his reputation. the way that active fellow would stride along the shore, over logs and brush, around fallen trees, hauling the canoe against stream some three or four miles an hour was perfectly fine; and each night my heart was glad and sang the old refrain, "a day's march nearer home." the toil of this tracking is second only to that of portageing. the men usually relieve each other every 30 minutes. so billy and george were the team. if i were going again into that country and had my choice these two again would be my crew. once or twice i took the track-line myself for a quarter of an hour, but it did not appeal to me as a permanent amusement. it taught me one thing that i did not suspect, namely, that it is much harder to haul a canoe with three inches of water under her keel than with three feet. in the former case, the attraction of the bottom is most powerful and evident. the experience also explained the old sailor phrase about the vessel feeling the bottom: this i had often heard, but never before comprehended. all day we tracked, covering 20 to 25 miles between camps and hourly making observations on the wild life of the river. small birds and mammals were evidently much more abundant than in spring, and the broad, muddy, and sandy reaches of the margin were tracked over by chipmunks, weasels, foxes, lynxes, bear, and moose. a lynx, which we surprised on a sand-bar, took to the water without hesitation and swam to the mainland. it went as fast as a dog, but not nearly so fast as a caribou. a large fox that we saw crossing the river proved very inferior to the lynx in swimming speed. the two portages, ennuyeux and detour, were duly passed, and on the morning of october 3, as we travelled, a sailboat hove into sight. it held messrs. thomas christy, c. harding, and stagg. we were now within 11 days of fort smith, so i took advantage of the opportunity to send sanderson back. on the evening of the 3d we came to salt river, and there we saw pierre squirrel with his hundred dogs and at 1 p. m., october 4, arrived at fort smith. chapter xlii fort smith and the tug here again we had the unpleasant experience of sleeping indoors, a miserable, sleepless, stifling night, followed by the inevitable cold. next day we rode with our things over the portage to smith landing. i had secured the tug ariel to give us a lift, and at 7 p. m., october 5, pulled out for the next stretch of the river, ourselves aboard the tug, the canoe with a cargo towed behind. that night we slept at the saw-mill, perforce, and having had enough of indoors, i spread my, blankets outside, with the result, as i was warned, that every one of the numerous dogs came again and again, and passed, his opinion on my slumbering form. next night we selected an island to camp on, the men did not want to stay on the mainland, for "the woods are full of mice and their feet are so cold when they run over your face as you sleep." we did not set up our tents that time but lay on the ground; next morning at dawn, when i looked around, the camp was like a country graveyard, for we were all covered with leaves, and each man was simply a long mound. the dawn came up an ominous rose-red. i love not the rosy dawn; a golden dawn or a chill-blue dawn is happy, but i fear the dawn of rose as the red headlight of a storm. it came; by 8.30 the rain had set in and steadily fell all day. the following morning we had our first accident. the steamer with the loaded canoe behind was rushing up a rapid. a swirl of water upset the canoe, and all our large packs were afloat. all were quickly recovered except a bag of salted skins. these sank and were seen no more. on october 9 we arrived at fort chipewyan. as we drew near that famous place of water-fowl, the long strings and massed flocks of various geese and ducks grew more and more plentiful; and at the fort itself we found their metropolis. the hudson's bay company had killed and salted about 600 waveys or snow geese; each of the loutit families, about 500; not less than 12,000 waveys will be salted down this fall, besides honkers, white-fronts and ducks. each year they reckon on about 10,000 waveys, in poor years they take 5,000 to 6,000, in fat years 15,000. the snow and white-fronted geese all had the white parts of the head more or less stained with orange. only one blue goose had been taken. this i got; it is a westernmost record. no swans had been secured this year; in fact, i am told that they are never taken in the fall because they never come this way, though they visit the east end of the lake; in the spring they come by here and about 20 are taken each year. chipewyan was billy loutit's home, and the family gave a dance in honour of the wanderer's return. here i secured a tall half-breed, gregoire daniell, usually known as "bellalise," to go with me as far as athabaska landing. there was no good reason why we should not leave chipewyan in three hours. but the engineer of my tug had run across an old friend; they wanted to have a jollification, as of course the engine was "hopelessly out of order." but we got away at 7 next day--my four men and the tug's three. at the wheel was a halfbreed--david macpherson--who is said to be a natural-born pilot, and the best in the country. although he never was on the upper slave before, and it is an exceedingly difficult stream with its interminable, intricate, shifting shallows, crooked, narrow channels, and impenetrable muddy currents, his "nose for water" is so good that he brought us through at full speed without striking once. next time he will be qualified to do it by night. in the grove where we camped after sundown were the teepee and shack of an indian (chipewyan) brayno (probably brenaud). this is his hunting and trapping ground, and has been for years. no one poaches on it; that is unwritten law; a man may follow a wounded animal into his neighbour's territory, but not trap there. the nearest neighbour is 10 miles off. he gets 3 or 4 silver foxes every year, a few lynx, otter, marten, etc. bellalise was somewhat of a character. about 6 feet 4 in height, with narrow, hollow chest, very large hands and feet and a nervous, restless way of flinging himself about. he struck me as a man who was killing himself with toil beyond his physical strength. he was strongly recommended by the hudson's bay company people as a "good man," i liked his face and manners, he was an intelligent companion, and i was glad to have secured him. at the first and second camps he worked hard. at the next he ceased work suddenly and went aside; his stomach was upset. a few hours afterwards he told me he was feeling ill. the engineer, who wanted him to cut wood, said to me, "that man is shamming." my reply was short: "you have known him for months, and think he is shamming; i have known him for hours and i know he is not that kind of a man." he told me next morning, "it's no use, i got my breast crushed by the tug a couple of weeks ago, i have no strength. at fort mckay is a good man named jiarobia, he will go with you." so when the tug left us bellalise refunded his advance and returned to chipewyan. he was one of those that made me think well of his people; and his observations on the wild life of the country showed that he had a tongue to tell, as well as eyes to see. that morning, besides the calls of honkers and waveys we heard the glorious trumpeting of the white crane. it has less rattling croak and more whoop than that of the brown crane. bellalise says that every year a few come to chipewyan, then go north with the waveys to breed. in the fall they come back for a month; they are usually in flocks of three and four; two old ones and their offspring, the latter known by their brownish colour. if you get the two old ones, the young ones are easily killed, as they keep flying low over the place. is this then the secret of its disappearance? and is it on these far breeding grounds that man has proved too hard? at lobstick point, 2 p. m., october 13, the tug turned back and we three continued our journey as before, preble and billy taking turns at tracking the canoe. next day we reached fort mckay and thus marked another important stage of the journey. chapter xliii fort mckay and jiarobia fort mckay was the last point at which we saw the chipewyan style of teepee, and the first where the cree appeared. but its chief interest to us lay in the fact that it was the home of jiarobia, a capable river-man who wished to go to athabaska landing. the first thing that struck us about jiarobia--whose dictionary name by the way is elzear robillard--was that his house had a good roof and a large pile of wood ready cut. these were extremely important indications in a land of improvidence. robillard was a thin, active, half-breed of very dark skin. he was willing to go for $2.00 a day the round-trip (18 days) plus food and a boat to return with. but a difficulty now appeared; madame robillard, a tall, dark half-breed woman, objected: "elzear had been away all summer, he should stay home now." "if you go i will run off into the backwoods with the first wild indian that wants a squaw," she threatened. "now," said rob, in choice english, "i am up against it." she did not understand english, but she could read looks and had some french, so i took a hand. "if madame will consent i will advance $15.00 of her husband's pay and will let her select the finest silk handkerchief in the hudson's bay store for a present." in about three minutes her cree eloquence died a natural death; she put a shawl on her head and stepped toward the door without looking at me. rob, nodded to me, and signed to go to the hudson's bay store; by which i inferred that the case was won; we were going now to select the present. to my amazement she turned from all the bright-coloured goods and selected a large black silk handkerchief. the men tell me it is always so now; fifty years ago every woman wanted red things. now all want black; and the traders who made the mistake of importing red have had to import dyes and dip them all. jiarobia, or, as we mostly call him, "rob," proved most amusing character as well as a "good man" and the reader will please note that nearly all of my single help were "good men." only when i had a crowd was there trouble. his store of anecdote was unbounded and his sense of humour ever present, if broad and simple. he talked in english, french, and cree, and knew a good deal of chipewyan. many of his personal adventures would have fitted admirably into the decameron, but are scarcely suited for this narrative. one evening he began to sing, i listened intently, thinking maybe i should pick up some ancient chanson of the voyageurs or at least a woodman's "come-all-ye." alas! it proved to be nothing but the "whistling coon." which reminds me of another curious experience at the village of fort smith. i saw a crowd of the indians about a lodge and strange noises proceeding therefrom. when i went over the folk made way for me. i entered, sat down, and found that they were crowded around a cheap gramophone which was hawking, spitting and screeching some awful rag-time music and nigger jigs. i could forgive the traders for bringing in the gramophone, but why, oh, why, did they not bring some of the simple world-wide human songs which could at least have had an educational effect? the indian group listened to this weird instrument with the profoundest gravity. if there is anything inherently comic in our low comics it was entirely lost on them. one of rob's amusing fireside tricks was thus: he put his hands together, so: (illustration). "now de' tumbs is you and your fader, de first finger is you and your mudder, ze next is you and your sister, ze little finger is you and your brudder, ze ring finger is you and your sweetheart. you and your fader separate easy, like dat; you and your brudder like dat, you and your sister like dat, dat's easy; you and your mudder like dat, dat's not so easy; but you and your sweetheart cannot part widout all everything go to hell first." later, as we passed the american who lives at fort mcmurray, jiarobia said to me: "dat man is the biggest awful liar on de river. you should hear him talk. 'one day,' he said, 'dere was a big stone floating up de muddy river and on it was tree men, and one was blind and one was plumb naked and one had no arms nor legs, and de blind man he looks down on bottom of river an see a gold watch, an de cripple he reach out and get it, and de naked man he put it in his pocket.' now any man talk dat way he one most awful liar, it is not possible, any part, no how." chapter xliv the river now we resumed our daily life of tracking, eating, tracking, camping, tracking, sleeping. the weather had continued fine, with little change ever since we left resolution, and we were so hardened to the life that it was pleasantly monotonous. how different now were my thoughts compared with those of last spring, as i first looked on this great river. when we had embarked on the leaping, boiling, muddy athabaska, in this frail canoe, it had seemed a foolhardy enterprise. how could such a craft ride such a stream for 2,000 miles? it was like a mouse mounting a monstrous, untamed, plunging and rearing horse. now we set out each morning, familiar with stream and our boat, having no thought of danger, and viewing the water, the same turbid flood, as, our servant. even as a skilful tamer will turn the wildest horse into his willing slave, so have we conquered this river and made it the bearer of our burdens. so i thought and wrote at the time; but the wise tamer is ever alert, never lulled into false security. he knows that a heedless move may turn his steed into a deadly, dangerous monster. we had our lesson to learn. that night (october 15) there was a dull yellow sunset. the morning came with a strong north wind and rain that turned to snow, and with it great flocks of birds migrating from the athabaska lake. many rough-legged hawks, hundreds of small land birds, thousands of snow-birds in flocks of 20 to 200, myriads of ducks and geese, passed over our heads going southward before the frost. about 8.30 the geese began to pass in ever-increasing flocks; between 9.45 and 10 i counted 114 flocks averaging about 30 each (5 to 300) and they kept on at this rate till 2 p. m. this would give a total of nearly 100,000 geese. it was a joyful thing to see and hear them; their legions in flight array went stringing high aloft, so high they looked not like geese, but threads across the sky, the cobwebs, indeed, that mother carey was sweeping away with her north-wind broom. i sketched and counted flock after flock with a sense of thankfulness that so many, were left alive. most were white geese, but a twentieth, perhaps, were honkers. the ducks began to pass over about noon, and became more numerous than the geese as they went on. in the midst of this myriad procession, as though they were the centre and cause of all, were two splendid white cranes, bugling as they flew. later that day we saw another band, of three, but these were all; their race is nearly run. the full moon was on and all night the wild-fowl flew. the frost was close behind them, sharp and sudden. next morning the ponds about us had ice an inch thick and we heard of it three inches at other places. but the sun came out gloriously and when at ten we landed at fort mcmurray the day was warm and perfect in its autumnal peace. miss gordon, the postmaster, did not recognise us at first. she said we all looked "so much older, it is always so with folks who go north." next morning we somehow left our tent behind. it was old and of little value, so we did not go back, and the fact that we never really needed it speaks much for the sort of weather we had to the end of the trip. a couple of moose (cow and calf) crossed the river ahead of us, and billy went off in hot pursuit; but saw no more of them. tracks of animals were extremely abundant on, the shore here. large wolves became quite numerous evidently we were now in their country. apparently they had killed a moose, as their dung was full of moose hair. we were now in the canyon of the athabaska and from this on our journey was a fight with the rapids. one by one my skilful boatmen negotiated them; either we tracked up or half unloaded, or landed and portaged, but it was hard and weary work. my journal entry for the night of the 18th runs thus: "i am tired of troubled waters. all day to-day and for five days back we have been fighting the rapids of this fierce river. my place is to sit in the canoe-bow with a long pole, glancing here and there, right, left, and ahead, watching ever the face of this snarling river; and when its curling green lips apart betray a yellow brown gleam of deadly teeth too near, it is my part to ply with might and main that pole, and push the frail canoe aside to where the stream is in milder, kindlier mood.' oh, i love not a brawling river any more than a brawling woman, and thoughts of the broad, calm slave, with its majestic stretches of level flood, are now as happy halcyon memories of a bright and long-gone past." my men were skilful and indefatigable. one by one we met the hard rapids in various ways, mostly by portaging, but on the morning of the 19th we came to one so small and short that all agreed the canoe could be forced by with poles and track-line. it looked an insignificant ripple, no more than a fish might make with its tail, and what happened in going up, is recorded as follows: chapter xlv the river shows its teeth "oct. 20, 1907.--athabaska river. in the canyon. this has been a day of horrors and mercies. we left the camp early, 6.55--long before sunrise, and portaged the first rapid. about 9 we came to the middle rapid; this billy thought we could track up, so with two ropes he and rob were hauling us, i in bow, preble in stem; but the strong waters of the middle part whirled the canoe around suddenly, and dashed her on a rock. there was a crash of breaking timber, a roar of the flood, and in a moment preble and i and, all the stuff were in the water. "'my journals,' i shouted as i went down, and all the time the flood was boiling in my ears my thought was, 'my journals,'--'my journals.' "the moment my mouth was up again above the water, i bubbled out, 'my journals,--save my journals,' then struck out for the shore. now i saw preble hanging on to the canoe and trying to right it. his face was calm and unchanged as when setting a mousetrap. 'never mind that, save yourself,' i called out; he made no response, and, after all, it was safest to hang on to the canoe. i was swept into a shallow place at once, and got on my feet, then gained the shore. "'my journals--save them first!' i shouted to the two boys, and now remembered with horror, how, this very morning, on account of portaging, i had for the first time put all three journals in the handbag, that had disappeared, whereas the telescope that used to hold two of them, was floating high. it is the emergency that proves your man, and i learned that day i had three of the best men that ever boarded a boat. a glance showed preble in shallow water coolly hauling in the canoe. "rob and billy bounded along the rugged shores, from one ice-covered rock to another, over piles of drift logs and along steep ledges they went; like two mountain goats; the flood was spotted with floating things, but no sign of the precious journal-bag. away out was the grub-box; square and high afloat, it struck a reef. 'you save the grub,' yelled billy above the roaring, pitiless flood, and dashed on. i knew billy's head was cool and clear, so i plunged into the water, ice-cold and waist deep--and before the merciless one could snatch it along, i had the grub-box safe. meanwhile rob and billy had danced away out of sight along that wild canyon bank. i set out after them. in some eddies various articles were afloat, a cocoa tin, a milk pot, a bag of rare orchids intended for a friend, a half sack of flour, and many little things i saved at cost of a fresh wetting each time, and on the bank, thrown hastily up by the boys, were such bundles as they had been able to rescue. "i struggled on, but the pace was killing. they were young men and dog-runners; i was left behind and was getting so tired now i could not keep warm; there was a keen frost and i was wet to the skin. the chance to rescue other things came again and again. twelve times did i plunge, into that deadly cold river, and so gathered a lot of small truck. then knowing i could do little more, and realising that everything man could do would be done without me, turned back reluctantly. preble passed me at a run, he had left the canoe in a good place and had saved some bedding. "'have you seen my journal-bag?' he made a quick gesture down the river, then dashed away. alas! i knew now, the one irreplaceable part of our cargo was deep in the treacherous flood, never to be seen again. "at the canoe i set about making a fire; there was no axe to cut kindling-wood, but a birch tree was near, and a pile of shredded birch-bark with a lot of dry willow on it made a perfect fire-lay; then i opened my waterproof matchbox. oh, horrors! the fifteen matches in it were damp and soggy. i tried to dry them by blowing on them; my frozen fingers could scarcely hold them. after a time i struck one. it was soft and useless; another and another at intervals, till thirteen; then, despairing, i laid the last two on a stone in the weak sunlight, and tried to warm myself by gathering firewood and moving quickly, but it seemed useless a very death chill was on me. i have often lighted a fire with rubbing-sticks, but i needed an axe, as well as a buckskin thong for this, and i had neither. i looked through the baggage that was saved, no matches and all things dripping wet. i might go three miles down that frightful canyon to our last camp and maybe get some living coals. but no! mindful of the forestry laws, we had as usual most carefully extinguished the fire with buckets of water, and the clothes were freezing on my back. 1 was tired out, teeth chattering. then came the thought, why despair while two matches remain? i struck the first now, the fourteenth, and, in spite of dead fingers and the sizzly, doubtful match, it cracked, blazed, and then, oh blessed, blessed birch bark!--with any other tinder my numbed hands had surely failed--it blazed like a torch, and warmth at last was mine, and outward comfort for a house of gloom. "the boys, i knew, would work like heroes and do their part as well as man could do it, my work was right here. i gathered all the things along the beach, made great racks for drying and a mighty blaze. i had no pots or pans, but an aluminum bottle which would serve as kettle; and thus i prepared a meal of such things as were saved--a scrap of pork, some tea and a soggy mass that once was pilot bread. then sat down by the fire to spend five hours of growing horror, 175 miles from a settlement, canoe smashed, guns gone, pots and pans gone, specimens all gone, half our bedding gone, our food gone; but all these things were nothing, compared with the loss of my three precious journals; 600 pages of observation and discovery, geographical, botanical, and zoological, 500 drawings, valuable records made under all sorts of trying circumstances, discovery and compass survey of the beautiful nyarling river, compass survey of the two great northern lakes, discovery of two great northern rivers, many lakes, a thousand things of interest to others and priceless to me--my summer's work--gone; yes, i could bear that, but the three chapters of life and thought irrevocably gone; the magnitude of this calamity was crushing. oh, god, this is the most awful blow that could have fallen at the end of the six months' trip. "the hours went by, and the gloom grew deeper, for there was no sign of the boys. never till now did the thought of danger enter my mind. had they been too foolhardy in their struggle with the terrible stream? had they, too, been made to feel its power? my guess was near the truth; and yet there was that awful river unchanged, glittering, surging, beautiful, exactly as on so many days before, when life on it had seemed so bright. "at three in the afternoon, i saw a fly crawl down the rocks a mile away. i fed the fire and heated up the food and tea. in twenty minutes i could see that it was rob, but both his hands were empty. 'if they had found it,' i said to myself, 'they would send it back first thing, and if he had it, he would swing it aloft,' yet no, nothing but a shiny tin was in his hands and the blow had fallen. the suspense was over, anyway. i bowed my head, 'we have done what we could.' "rob came slowly up, worn out. in his hand a tin of baking-powder. across his breast was a canvas band. he tottered toward me, too tired to speak in answer to my unspoken question, but he turned and there on his back was the canvas bag that held labour of all these long toilsome months. "'i got 'em, all right,' he managed to say, smiling in a weak way. "'and the boys?' "'all right now.' "'thank god!' i broke down, and wrung his hand; 'i won't forget,' was all i could say. hot tea revived him, loosened his tongue, and i heard the story. "i knew,' he said, 'what was first to save when i seen you got ashore. me and billy we run like crazy, we see dat bag 'way out in the deep strong water. de odder tings came in de eddies, but dat bag it keep 'way out, but we run along de rocks; after a mile it came pretty near a point, and billy, he climb on a rock and reach out, but he fall in deep water and was carried far, so he had to swim for his life. i jump on rocks anoder mile to anoder point; i got ahead of de bag, den i get two logs, and hold dem between my legs for raft, and push out; but dat dam river he take dem logs very slow, and dat bag very fast, so it pass by. but billy he swim ashore, and run some more, and he make a raft; but de raft he stick on rock, and de bag he never stick, but go like hell. "'den i say, "here, billy, you give me yo' sash," and i run tree mile more, so far i loss sight of dat bag and make good raft. by'mebye billy he come shouting and point, i push out in river, and paddle, and watch, and sure dere come dat bag. my, how he travel! far out now; but i paddle and push hard and bump he came at raft and i grab him. oh! maybe i warn't glad! ice on river, frost in air, 14 mile run on snowy rocks, but i no care, i bet i make dat boss glad when he see me." "glad! i never felt more thankful in my life! my heart swelled with gratitude to the brave boys that had leaped, scrambled, slidden, tumbled, fallen, swum or climbed over those 14 perilous, horrible miles of icy rocks and storm-piled timbers, to save the books that, to them, seemed of so little value, but which they yet knew were, to me, the most precious of all my things. guns, cameras, food, tents, bedding, dishes, were trifling losses, and the horror of that day was turned to joy by the crowning mercy of its close. "'i won't forget you when we reach the landing, rob!' were, the meagre words that rose to my lips, but the tone of voice supplied what the words might lack. and i did not forget him or the others; and robillard said afterward, 'by gar, dat de best day's work i ever done, by gar, de time i run down dat hell river after dem dam books!'" chapter xlvi bright again in an hour the other men came, back. the rest of the day we put in drying the things, especially our bedding. we used the aluminum bottle, and an old meat tin for kettle; some bacon, happily saved, was fried on sticks, and when we turned in that night it was with light and thankful hearts, in spite of our manifold minor losses. morning dawned bright and beautiful and keen. how glorious that surging river looked in its noble canyon; but we were learning thoroughly that noble scenery means dangerous travel--and there was much noble scenery ahead; and i, at least, felt much older than before this upset. the boys put in a couple of hours repairing the canoe, then they studied the river in hopes of recovering the guns. how well the river-men seemed to know it! its every ripple and curl told them a story of the bottom and the flood. "there must be a ledge there," said billy, "just where we upset. if the guns went down at once they are there. if they were carried at all, the bottom is smooth to the second ledge and they are there." he pointed a hundred yards away. so they armed themselves with grappling-poles that had nails for claws. then we lowered rob in the canoe into the rapid and held on while he fished above the ledge. "i tink i feel 'em," said rob, again and again, but could not bring them up. then billy tried. "yes, they are there." but the current was too fierce and the hook too poor; he could not hold them. then i said: "there is only one thing to do. a man must go in at the end of the rope; maybe he can reach down. i'll never send any man into such a place, but i'll go myself." so i stripped, padded the track-line with a towel and put it around my waist, then plunged in. ouch! it was cold, and going seven miles an hour. the boys lowered me to the spot where i was supposed to dive or reach down. it was only five feet deep, but, struggle as i might, i could not get even my arm down. i ducked and dived, but i was held in the surface like a pennant on an air-blast. in a few minutes the icy flood had robbed me of all sensation in my limbs, and showed how impossible was the plan, so i gave the signal to haul me in; which they did, nearly cutting my body in two with the rope. and if ever there was a grovelling fire-worshipper, it was my frozen self when i landed. now we tried a new scheme. a tall spruce on the shore was leaning over the place; fifty feet out, barely showing, was the rock that wrecked us. we cut the spruce so it fell with its butt on the shore, and lodged against the rock. on this, now, rob and billy walked out and took turns grappling. luck was with rob. in a few minutes he triumphantly hauled up the rifle and a little later the shotgun, none the worse. now, we had saved everything except the surplus provisions and my little camera, trifling matters, indeed; so it was with feelings of triumph that we went on south that day. in the afternoon, as we were tracking up the last part of the boiler rapid, billy at the bow, rob on the shore, the line broke, and we were only saved from another dreadful disaster by billy's nerve and quickness; for he fearlessly leaped overboard, had the luck to find bottom, and held the canoe's head with all his strength. the rope was mended and a safe way was found. that time i realized the force of an indian reply to a trader who sought to sell him a cheap rope. "in the midst of a rapid one does not count the cost of the line." at night we camped in a glorious red sunset, just above the boiler rapid. on the shore was a pile of flour in sacks, inscribed in cree, "gordon his flour." here it was, the most prized foreign product in the country, lying unprotected by the highway, and no man seemed to think the owner foolish. whatever else, these indians are, they are absolutely honest. the heavenly weather of the indian summer was now upon us. we had left all storms and frost behind, and the next day, our final trouble, the lack of food, was ended. a great steamer hove in sight--at least it looked like a steamer--but, steadily coming on, it proved a scow with an awning and a stove on it. the boys soon recognised the man at the bow as william gordon, trader at fort mcmurray. we hailed him to stop when he was a quarter of a mile ahead, and he responded with his six sturdy oarsmen; but such was the force of the stream that he did not reach the shore till a quarter-mile below us. "hello, boys, what's up?" he shouted in the brotherly way that all white men seem to get when meeting another of their race in a savage land. "had an upset and lost all our food." "ho! that's easy fixed." then did that generous man break open boxes, bales, and packages and freely gave without a stint, all the things we needed: kettles, pans, sugar, oatmeal, beans, jam, etc. "how are you fixed for whiskey?" he asked, opening his own private, not-for-sale supply. "we have none and we never use it," was the reply. then i fear i fell very low in the eyes of my crew. "never use it! don't want it! you must be pretty damn lonesome in a country like this," and he seemed quite unable to grasp the idea of travellers who would not drink. thus the last of our troubles was ended. thenceforth the journey was one of warm, sunny weather and pleasant travel. each night the sun went down in red and purple fire; and each morning rose in gold on a steel-blue sky. there was only one bad side to this, that was the constant danger of forest fire. on leaving each camp--we made four every day--i put the fire out with plenty of water, many buckets. rob thought it unnecessary to take so much trouble. but great clouds of smoke were seen at several reaches of the river, to tell how dire it was that other campers had not done the same. chapter xlvii when nature smiled it seems a law that every deep valley must be next a high mountain. our sorrows ended when we quit the canyon, and then, as though in compensation, nature crammed the days with the small joys that seem so little and mean so much to the naturalist. those last few days, unmarred of the smallest hardship, were one long pearl-string of the things i came for--the chances to see and be among wild life. each night the coyote and the fox came rustling about our camp, or the weasel and woodmouse scrambled over our sleeping forms. each morning at gray dawn, gray wiskajon and his mate--always a pair came wailing through the woods, to flirt about the camp and steal scraps of meat that needed not to be stolen, being theirs by right. their small cousins, the chicadees, came, too, at breakfast time, and in our daily travelling, ruffed grouse, ravens, pine grosbeaks, bohemian chatterers, hairy woodpeckers, shrikes, tree-sparrows, linnets, and snowbirds enlivened the radiant sunlit scene. one afternoon i heard a peculiar note, at first like the "cheepy-teet-teet" of the pine grosbeak, only louder and more broken, changing to the jingling of blackbirds in spring, mixed with some bluejay "jay-jays," and a robin-like whistle; then i saw that it came from a northern shrike on the bushes just ahead of us. it flew off much after the manner of the summer shrike, with flight not truly undulatory nor yet straight, but flapping half a dozen times--then a pause and repeat. he would dive along down near the ground, then up with a fine display of wings and tail to the next perch selected, there to repeat with fresh variations and shrieks, the same strange song, and often indeed sang it on the wing, until at last he crossed the river. sometimes we rode in the canoe, sometimes tramped along the easy shore. once i came across a great homed owl in the grass by the water. he had a fish over a foot long, and flew with difficulty when be bore it off. another time i saw a horned owl mobbed by two wiskajons. spruce partridge as well as the ruffed species became common: one morning some of the former marched into camp at breakfast time. rob called them "chickens"; farther south they are called "fool hens," which is descriptive and helps to distinguish them from their neighbours--the "sage hens." frequently now we heard the toy-trumpeting and the clack of the pileated woodpecker or cock-of-the-pines, a canadian rather than a hudsonian species. one day, at our three o'clock meal, a great splendid fellow of the kind gave us a thrill. "clack-clack-clack," we heard him coming, and he bounded through the air into the trees over our camp. still uttering his loud "clack-clack-clack," he swung from tree to tree in one long festoon of flight, spread out on the up-swoop like an enormous black butterfly with white-starred wings. "clack-clack-clack," he stirred the echoes from the other shore, and ignored us as he swooped and clanged. there was much in his song of the woodpecker tang; it was very nearly the springtime "cluck-cluck" of a magnified flicker in black; and i gazed with open mouth until he thought fit to bound through the air to another woods. this was my first close meeting with the king of the woodpeckers; i long to know him better. mammals, too, abounded, but we saw their signs rather than themselves, for most are nocturnal. the redsquirrels, so scarce last spring, were quite plentiful, and the beach at all soft places showed abundant trace of weasels, chipmunks, foxes, coyotes, lynx, wolves, moose, caribou, deer. one wolf track was of special interest. it was 5 1/2 inches, long and travelling with it was the track of a small wolf; it vividly brought back the days of lobo and blanca, and i doubt not was another case of mates; we were evidently in the range of a giant wolf who was travelling around with his wife. another large wolf track was lacking the two inner toes of the inner hind foot, and the bind foot pads were so faint as to be lost at times, although the toes were deeply impressed in the mud. this probably meant that he, had been in a trap and was starved to a skeleton. we did not see any of these, but we did see the post-graduate evidences of their diet, and were somewhat surprised to learn that it included much fruit, especially of the uva-ursi. we also saw proof that they had eaten part of a moose; probably they had killed it. coyote abounded now, and these we saw from time to time. once i tramped up within thirty feet of a big fellow who was pursuing some studies behind a log. but again the incontrovertible-postmortem-evidence of their food habits was a surprise--the bulk of their sustenance now was berries, in one case this was mixed with the tail hairs--but no body hairs--of a chipmunk. i suppose that chipmunk escaped minus his tail. there was much evidence that all those creatures that can eat fruit were in good condition, but that flesh in its most accessible form--rabbits--was unknown, and even next best thing--the mice--were too scarce to count; this weighed with especial force on the lynxes; they alone seemed unable to eke out with fruit. the few we saw were starving and at our camp of the 28th we found the wretched body of one that was dead of hunger. on that, same night we had a curious adventure with a weasel. all were sitting around the camp-fire at bed-time, when i heard a distinct patter on the leaves. "something coming," i whispered. all held still, then out of the gloom came bounding a snow-white weasel. preble was lying on his back with his hands clasped behind his head and the weasel fearlessly jumped on my colleague's broad chest, and stood peering about. in a flash preble's right elbow was down and held the weasel prisoner, his left hand coming to assist. now, it is pretty well known that if you and a weasel grab each other at the same time he has choice of holds. "i have got him," said preble, then added feelingly, "but he got me first. suffering moses! the little cuss is grinding his teeth in deeper." the muffled screaming of the small demon died away as preble's strong left hand crushed out his life, but as long as there was a spark of it remaining, those desperate jaws were grinding deeper into his thumb. it seemed a remarkably long affair to us, and from time to time, as preble let off some fierce ejaculation, one of us would ask, "hello! are you two still at it," or, "how are you and your friend these times, preble?" in a few minutes it was over, but that creature in his fury seemed to have inspired himself with lock-jaw, for his teeth were so driven in and double-locked, that i had to pry the jaws apart before the hand was free. the weasel may now be seen in the american museum, and preble in the agricultural department at washington, the latter none the worse. so wore away the month, the last night came, a night of fireside joy at home (for was it not hallowe'en?), and our celebration took the form of washing, shaving, mending clothes, in preparation for our landing in the morning. chapter xlviii the end all that night of hallowe'en, a partridge drummed near my untented couch on the balsam boughs. what a glorious sound of woods and life triumphant it seemed; and why did he drum at night? simply because he had more joy than the short fall day gave him time to express. he seemed to be beating our march of victory, for were we not in triumph coming home? the gray firstlight came through the trees and showed us lying each in his blanket, covered with leaves, like babes in the woods. the gray jays came wailing through the gloom, a faroff cock-of-the-pines was trumpeting in the lovely, unplagued autumn woods; it seemed as though all the very best things in the land were assembled and the bad things all left out, so that our final memories should have no evil shade. the scene comes brightly back again, the sheltering fir-clad shore, the staunch canoe skimming the river's tranquil reach, the water smiling round her bow, as we push from this, the last of full five hundred camps. the dawn fog lifts, the river sparkles in the sun, we round the last of a thousand headlands. the little frontier town of the landing swings into view once more--what a metropolis it seems to us now!--the ann seton lands at the spot where six months ago she had entered the water. now in quick succession come the thrills of the larger life--the letters from home, the telegraph office, the hearty good-bye to the brave riverboys, and my long canoe-ride is over. i had held in my heart the wanderlust till it swept me away, and sent me afar on the back trail of the north wind; i have lived in the mighty boreal forest, with its red-men, its buffalo, its moose, and its wolves; i have seen the great lone land with its endless plains and prairies that do not know the face of man or the crack of a rifle; i have been with its countless lakes that re-echo nothing but the wail and yodel of the loons, or the mournful music of the arctic wolf. i have wandered on the plains of the musk-ox, the home of the snowbird and the caribou. these were the things i had burned to do. was i content? content!! is a man ever content with a single sip of joy long-dreamed of? four years have gone since then. the wanderlust was not stifled any more than a fire is stifled by giving it air. i have taken into my heart a longing, given shape to an ancient instinct. have i not found for myself a kingdom and become a part of it? my reason and my heart say, "go back to see it all." grant only this, that i gather again the same brave men that manned my frail canoe, and as sure as life and strength continue i shall go. transcribed from the 1915 methuen and co edition by david price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk. white fang part i chapter i--the trail of the meat dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. the trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. a vast silence reigned over the land. the land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. there was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness--a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. it was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. it was the wild, the savage, frozen-hearted northland wild. but there _was_ life, abroad in the land and defiant. down the frozen waterway toiled a string of wolfish dogs. their bristly fur was rimed with frost. their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spumes of vapour that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. leather harness was on the dogs, and leather traces attached them to a sled which dragged along behind. the sled was without runners. it was made of stout birch-bark, and its full surface rested on the snow. the front end of the sled was turned up, like a scroll, in order to force down and under the bore of soft snow that surged like a wave before it. on the sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow oblong box. there were other things on the sled--blankets, an axe, and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prominent, occupying most of the space, was the long and narrow oblong box. in advance of the dogs, on wide snowshoes, toiled a man. at the rear of the sled toiled a second man. on the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil was over,--a man whom the wild had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again. it is not the way of the wild to like movement. life is an offence to it, for life is movement; and the wild aims always to destroy movement. it freezes the water to prevent it running to the sea; it drives the sap out of the trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts; and most ferociously and terribly of all does the wild harry and crush into submission man--man who is the most restless of life, ever in revolt against the dictum that all movement must in the end come to the cessation of movement. but at front and rear, unawed and indomitable, toiled the two men who were not yet dead. their bodies were covered with fur and soft-tanned leather. eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not discernible. this gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. but under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of space. they travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of their bodies. on every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a tangible presence. it affected their minds as the many atmospheres of deep water affect the body of the diver. it crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and unalterable decree. it crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and exaltations and undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived themselves finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and little wisdom amidst the play and inter-play of the great blind elements and forces. an hour went by, and a second hour. the pale light of the short sunless day was beginning to fade, when a faint far cry arose on the still air. it soared upward with a swift rush, till it reached its topmost note, where it persisted, palpitant and tense, and then slowly died away. it might have been a lost soul wailing, had it not been invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. the front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man behind. and then, across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to the other. a second cry arose, piercing the silence with needle-like shrillness. both men located the sound. it was to the rear, somewhere in the snow expanse they had just traversed. a third and answering cry arose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry. "they're after us, bill," said the man at the front. his voice sounded hoarse and unreal, and he had spoken with apparent effort. "meat is scarce," answered his comrade. "i ain't seen a rabbit sign for days." thereafter they spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the hunting-cries that continued to rise behind them. at the fall of darkness they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. the coffin, at the side of the fire, served for seat and table. the wolf-dogs, clustered on the far side of the fire, snarled and bickered among themselves, but evinced no inclination to stray off into the darkness. "seems to me, henry, they're stayin' remarkable close to camp," bill commented. henry, squatting over the fire and settling the pot of coffee with a piece of ice, nodded. nor did he speak till he had taken his seat on the coffin and begun to eat. "they know where their hides is safe," he said. "they'd sooner eat grub than be grub. they're pretty wise, them dogs." bill shook his head. "oh, i don't know." his comrade looked at him curiously. "first time i ever heard you say anything about their not bein' wise." "henry," said the other, munching with deliberation the beans he was eating, "did you happen to notice the way them dogs kicked up when i was a-feedin' 'em?" "they did cut up more'n usual," henry acknowledged. "how many dogs 've we got, henry?" "six." "well, henry . . . " bill stopped for a moment, in order that his words might gain greater significance. "as i was sayin', henry, we've got six dogs. i took six fish out of the bag. i gave one fish to each dog, an', henry, i was one fish short." "you counted wrong." "we've got six dogs," the other reiterated dispassionately. "i took out six fish. one ear didn't get no fish. i came back to the bag afterward an' got 'm his fish." "we've only got six dogs," henry said. "henry," bill went on. "i won't say they was all dogs, but there was seven of 'm that got fish." henry stopped eating to glance across the fire and count the dogs. "there's only six now," he said. "i saw the other one run off across the snow," bill announced with cool positiveness. "i saw seven." henry looked at him commiseratingly, and said, "i'll be almighty glad when this trip's over." "what d'ye mean by that?" bill demanded. "i mean that this load of ourn is gettin' on your nerves, an' that you're beginnin' to see things." "i thought of that," bill answered gravely. "an' so, when i saw it run off across the snow, i looked in the snow an' saw its tracks. then i counted the dogs an' there was still six of 'em. the tracks is there in the snow now. d'ye want to look at 'em? i'll show 'em to you." henry did not reply, but munched on in silence, until, the meal finished, he topped it with a final cup of coffee. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said: "then you're thinkin' as it was--" a long wailing cry, fiercely sad, from somewhere in the darkness, had interrupted him. he stopped to listen to it, then he finished his sentence with a wave of his hand toward the sound of the cry, "--one of them?" bill nodded. "i'd a blame sight sooner think that than anything else. you noticed yourself the row the dogs made." cry after cry, and answering cries, were turning the silence into a bedlam. from every side the cries arose, and the dogs betrayed their fear by huddling together and so close to the fire that their hair was scorched by the heat. bill threw on more wood, before lighting his pipe. "i'm thinking you're down in the mouth some," henry said. "henry . . . " he sucked meditatively at his pipe for some time before he went on. "henry, i was a-thinkin' what a blame sight luckier he is than you an' me'll ever be." he indicated the third person by a downward thrust of the thumb to the box on which they sat. "you an' me, henry, when we die, we'll be lucky if we get enough stones over our carcases to keep the dogs off of us." "but we ain't got people an' money an' all the rest, like him," henry rejoined. "long-distance funerals is somethin' you an' me can't exactly afford." "what gets me, henry, is what a chap like this, that's a lord or something in his own country, and that's never had to bother about grub nor blankets; why he comes a-buttin' round the godforsaken ends of the earth--that's what i can't exactly see." "he might have lived to a ripe old age if he'd stayed at home," henry agreed. bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind. instead, he pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed about them from every side. there was no suggestion of form in the utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live coals. henry indicated with his head a second pair, and a third. a circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. now and again a pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later. the unrest of the dogs had been increasing, and they stampeded, in a surge of sudden fear, to the near side of the fire, cringing and crawling about the legs of the men. in the scramble one of the dogs had been overturned on the edge of the fire, and it had yelped with pain and fright as the smell of its singed coat possessed the air. the commotion caused the circle of eyes to shift restlessly for a moment and even to withdraw a bit, but it settled down again as the dogs became quiet. "henry, it's a blame misfortune to be out of ammunition." bill had finished his pipe and was helping his companion to spread the bed of fur and blanket upon the spruce boughs which he had laid over the snow before supper. henry grunted, and began unlacing his moccasins. "how many cartridges did you say you had left?" he asked. "three," came the answer. "an' i wisht 'twas three hundred. then i'd show 'em what for, damn 'em!" he shook his fist angrily at the gleaming eyes, and began securely to prop his moccasins before the fire. "an' i wisht this cold snap'd break," he went on. "it's ben fifty below for two weeks now. an' i wisht i'd never started on this trip, henry. i don't like the looks of it. i don't feel right, somehow. an' while i'm wishin', i wisht the trip was over an' done with, an' you an' me a-sittin' by the fire in fort mcgurry just about now an' playing cribbage--that's what i wisht." henry grunted and crawled into bed. as he dozed off he was aroused by his comrade's voice. "say, henry, that other one that come in an' got a fish--why didn't the dogs pitch into it? that's what's botherin' me." "you're botherin' too much, bill," came the sleepy response. "you was never like this before. you jes' shut up now, an' go to sleep, an' you'll be all hunkydory in the mornin'. your stomach's sour, that's what's botherin' you." the men slept, breathing heavily, side by side, under the one covering. the fire died down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer the circle they had flung about the camp. the dogs clustered together in fear, now and again snarling menacingly as a pair of eyes drew close. once their uproar became so loud that bill woke up. he got out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb the sleep of his comrade, and threw more wood on the fire. as it began to flame up, the circle of eyes drew farther back. he glanced casually at the huddling dogs. he rubbed his eyes and looked at them more sharply. then he crawled back into the blankets. "henry," he said. "oh, henry." henry groaned as he passed from sleep to waking, and demanded, "what's wrong now?" "nothin'," came the answer; "only there's seven of 'em again. i just counted." henry acknowledged receipt of the information with a grunt that slid into a snore as he drifted back into sleep. in the morning it was henry who awoke first and routed his companion out of bed. daylight was yet three hours away, though it was already six o'clock; and in the darkness henry went about preparing breakfast, while bill rolled the blankets and made the sled ready for lashing. "say, henry," he asked suddenly, "how many dogs did you say we had?" "six." "wrong," bill proclaimed triumphantly. "seven again?" henry queried. "no, five; one's gone." "the hell!" henry cried in wrath, leaving the cooking to come and count the dogs. "you're right, bill," he concluded. "fatty's gone." "an' he went like greased lightnin' once he got started. couldn't 've seen 'm for smoke." "no chance at all," henry concluded. "they jes' swallowed 'm alive. i bet he was yelpin' as he went down their throats, damn 'em!" "he always was a fool dog," said bill. "but no fool dog ought to be fool enough to go off an' commit suicide that way." he looked over the remainder of the team with a speculative eye that summed up instantly the salient traits of each animal. "i bet none of the others would do it." "couldn't drive 'em away from the fire with a club," bill agreed. "i always did think there was somethin' wrong with fatty anyway." and this was the epitaph of a dead dog on the northland trail--less scant than the epitaph of many another dog, of many a man. chapter ii--the she-wolf breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit lashed to the sled, the men turned their backs on the cheery fire and launched out into the darkness. at once began to rise the cries that were fiercely sad--cries that called through the darkness and cold to one another and answered back. conversation ceased. daylight came at nine o'clock. at midday the sky to the south warmed to rose-colour, and marked where the bulge of the earth intervened between the meridian sun and the northern world. but the rose-colour swiftly faded. the grey light of day that remained lasted until three o'clock, when it, too, faded, and the pall of the arctic night descended upon the lone and silent land. as darkness came on, the hunting-cries to right and left and rear drew closer--so close that more than once they sent surges of fear through the toiling dogs, throwing them into short-lived panics. at the conclusion of one such panic, when he and henry had got the dogs back in the traces, bill said: "i wisht they'd strike game somewheres, an' go away an' leave us alone." "they do get on the nerves horrible," henry sympathised. they spoke no more until camp was made. henry was bending over and adding ice to the babbling pot of beans when he was startled by the sound of a blow, an exclamation from bill, and a sharp snarling cry of pain from among the dogs. he straightened up in time to see a dim form disappearing across the snow into the shelter of the dark. then he saw bill, standing amid the dogs, half triumphant, half crestfallen, in one hand a stout club, in the other the tail and part of the body of a sun-cured salmon. "it got half of it," he announced; "but i got a whack at it jes' the same. d'ye hear it squeal?" "what'd it look like?" henry asked. "couldn't see. but it had four legs an' a mouth an' hair an' looked like any dog." "must be a tame wolf, i reckon." "it's damned tame, whatever it is, comin' in here at feedin' time an' gettin' its whack of fish." that night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box and pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even closer than before. "i wisht they'd spring up a bunch of moose or something, an' go away an' leave us alone," bill said. henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for a quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, henry staring at the fire, and bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness just beyond the firelight. "i wisht we was pullin' into mcgurry right now," he began again. "shut up your wishin' and your croakin'," henry burst out angrily. "your stomach's sour. that's what's ailin' you. swallow a spoonful of sody, an' you'll sweeten up wonderful an' be more pleasant company." in the morning henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded from the mouth of bill. henry propped himself up on an elbow and looked to see his comrade standing among the dogs beside the replenished fire, his arms raised in objurgation, his face distorted with passion. "hello!" henry called. "what's up now?" "frog's gone," came the answer. "no." "i tell you yes." henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs. he counted them with care, and then joined his partner in cursing the power of the wild that had robbed them of another dog. "frog was the strongest dog of the bunch," bill pronounced finally. "an' he was no fool dog neither," henry added. and so was recorded the second epitaph in two days. a gloomy breakfast was eaten, and the four remaining dogs were harnessed to the sled. the day was a repetition of the days that had gone before. the men toiled without speech across the face of the frozen world. the silence was unbroken save by the cries of their pursuers, that, unseen, hung upon their rear. with the coming of night in the mid-afternoon, the cries sounded closer as the pursuers drew in according to their custom; and the dogs grew excited and frightened, and were guilty of panics that tangled the traces and further depressed the two men. "there, that'll fix you fool critters," bill said with satisfaction that night, standing erect at completion of his task. henry left the cooking to come and see. not only had his partner tied the dogs up, but he had tied them, after the indian fashion, with sticks. about the neck of each dog he had fastened a leather thong. to this, and so close to the neck that the dog could not get his teeth to it, he had tied a stout stick four or five feet in length. the other end of the stick, in turn, was made fast to a stake in the ground by means of a leather thong. the dog was unable to gnaw through the leather at his own end of the stick. the stick prevented him from getting at the leather that fastened the other end. henry nodded his head approvingly. "it's the only contraption that'll ever hold one ear," he said. "he can gnaw through leather as clean as a knife an' jes' about half as quick. they all'll be here in the mornin' hunkydory." "you jes' bet they will," bill affirmed. "if one of em' turns up missin', i'll go without my coffee." "they jes' know we ain't loaded to kill," henry remarked at bed-time, indicating the gleaming circle that hemmed them in. "if we could put a couple of shots into 'em, they'd be more respectful. they come closer every night. get the firelight out of your eyes an' look hard--there! did you see that one?" for some time the two men amused themselves with watching the movement of vague forms on the edge of the firelight. by looking closely and steadily at where a pair of eyes burned in the darkness, the form of the animal would slowly take shape. they could even see these forms move at times. a sound among the dogs attracted the men's attention. one ear was uttering quick, eager whines, lunging at the length of his stick toward the darkness, and desisting now and again in order to make frantic attacks on the stick with his teeth. "look at that, bill," henry whispered. full into the firelight, with a stealthy, sidelong movement, glided a doglike animal. it moved with commingled mistrust and daring, cautiously observing the men, its attention fixed on the dogs. one ear strained the full length of the stick toward the intruder and whined with eagerness. "that fool one ear don't seem scairt much," bill said in a low tone. "it's a she-wolf," henry whispered back, "an' that accounts for fatty an' frog. she's the decoy for the pack. she draws out the dog an' then all the rest pitches in an' eats 'm up." the fire crackled. a log fell apart with a loud spluttering noise. at the sound of it the strange animal leaped back into the darkness. "henry, i'm a-thinkin'," bill announced. "thinkin' what?" "i'm a-thinkin' that was the one i lambasted with the club." "ain't the slightest doubt in the world," was henry's response. "an' right here i want to remark," bill went on, "that that animal's familyarity with campfires is suspicious an' immoral." "it knows for certain more'n a self-respectin' wolf ought to know," henry agreed. "a wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at feedin' time has had experiences." "ol' villan had a dog once that run away with the wolves," bill cogitates aloud. "i ought to know. i shot it out of the pack in a moose pasture over 'on little stick. an' ol' villan cried like a baby. hadn't seen it for three years, he said. ben with the wolves all that time." "i reckon you've called the turn, bill. that wolf's a dog, an' it's eaten fish many's the time from the hand of man." "an if i get a chance at it, that wolf that's a dog'll be jes' meat," bill declared. "we can't afford to lose no more animals." "but you've only got three cartridges," henry objected. "i'll wait for a dead sure shot," was the reply. in the morning henry renewed the fire and cooked breakfast to the accompaniment of his partner's snoring. "you was sleepin' jes' too comfortable for anything," henry told him, as he routed him out for breakfast. "i hadn't the heart to rouse you." bill began to eat sleepily. he noticed that his cup was empty and started to reach for the pot. but the pot was beyond arm's length and beside henry. "say, henry," he chided gently, "ain't you forgot somethin'?" henry looked about with great carefulness and shook his head. bill held up the empty cup. "you don't get no coffee," henry announced. "ain't run out?" bill asked anxiously. "nope." "ain't thinkin' it'll hurt my digestion?" "nope." a flush of angry blood pervaded bill's face. "then it's jes' warm an' anxious i am to be hearin' you explain yourself," he said. "spanker's gone," henry answered. without haste, with the air of one resigned to misfortune bill turned his head, and from where he sat counted the dogs. "how'd it happen?" he asked apathetically. henry shrugged his shoulders. "don't know. unless one ear gnawed 'm loose. he couldn't a-done it himself, that's sure." "the darned cuss." bill spoke gravely and slowly, with no hint of the anger that was raging within. "jes' because he couldn't chew himself loose, he chews spanker loose." "well, spanker's troubles is over anyway; i guess he's digested by this time an' cavortin' over the landscape in the bellies of twenty different wolves," was henry's epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. "have some coffee, bill." but bill shook his head. "go on," henry pleaded, elevating the pot. bill shoved his cup aside. "i'll be ding-dong-danged if i do. i said i wouldn't if ary dog turned up missin', an' i won't." "it's darn good coffee," henry said enticingly. but bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry breakfast washed down with mumbled curses at one ear for the trick he had played. "i'll tie 'em up out of reach of each other to-night," bill said, as they took the trail. they had travelled little more than a hundred yards, when henry, who was in front, bent down and picked up something with which his snowshoe had collided. it was dark, and he could not see it, but he recognised it by the touch. he flung it back, so that it struck the sled and bounced along until it fetched up on bill's snowshoes. "mebbe you'll need that in your business," henry said. bill uttered an exclamation. it was all that was left of spanker--the stick with which he had been tied. "they ate 'm hide an' all," bill announced. "the stick's as clean as a whistle. they've ate the leather offen both ends. they're damn hungry, henry, an' they'll have you an' me guessin' before this trip's over." henry laughed defiantly. "i ain't been trailed this way by wolves before, but i've gone through a whole lot worse an' kept my health. takes more'n a handful of them pesky critters to do for yours truly, bill, my son." "i don't know, i don't know," bill muttered ominously. "well, you'll know all right when we pull into mcgurry." "i ain't feelin' special enthusiastic," bill persisted. "you're off colour, that's what's the matter with you," henry dogmatised. "what you need is quinine, an' i'm goin' to dose you up stiff as soon as we make mcgurry." bill grunted his disagreement with the diagnosis, and lapsed into silence. the day was like all the days. light came at nine o'clock. at twelve o'clock the southern horizon was warmed by the unseen sun; and then began the cold grey of afternoon that would merge, three hours later, into night. it was just after the sun's futile effort to appear, that bill slipped the rifle from under the sled-lashings and said: "you keep right on, henry, i'm goin' to see what i can see." "you'd better stick by the sled," his partner protested. "you've only got three cartridges, an' there's no tellin' what might happen." "who's croaking now?" bill demanded triumphantly. henry made no reply, and plodded on alone, though often he cast anxious glances back into the grey solitude where his partner had disappeared. an hour later, taking advantage of the cut-offs around which the sled had to go, bill arrived. "they're scattered an' rangin' along wide," he said: "keeping up with us an' lookin' for game at the same time. you see, they're sure of us, only they know they've got to wait to get us. in the meantime they're willin' to pick up anything eatable that comes handy." "you mean they _think_ they're sure of us," henry objected pointedly. but bill ignored him. "i seen some of them. they're pretty thin. they ain't had a bite in weeks i reckon, outside of fatty an' frog an' spanker; an' there's so many of 'em that that didn't go far. they're remarkable thin. their ribs is like wash-boards, an' their stomachs is right up against their backbones. they're pretty desperate, i can tell you. they'll be goin' mad, yet, an' then watch out." a few minutes later, henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, emitted a low, warning whistle. bill turned and looked, then quietly stopped the dogs. to the rear, from around the last bend and plainly into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, slinking form. its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with a peculiar, sliding, effortless gait. when they halted, it halted, throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them. "it's the she-wolf," bill answered. the dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join his partner in the sled. together they watched the strange animal that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the destruction of half their dog-team. after a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps. this it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards away. it paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with sight and scent studied the outfit of the watching men. it looked at them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in its wistfulness there was none of the dog affection. it was a wistfulness bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless as the frost itself. it was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of an animal that was among the largest of its kind. "stands pretty close to two feet an' a half at the shoulders," henry commented. "an' i'll bet it ain't far from five feet long." "kind of strange colour for a wolf," was bill's criticism. "i never seen a red wolf before. looks almost cinnamon to me." the animal was certainly not cinnamon-coloured. its coat was the true wolf-coat. the dominant colour was grey, and yet there was to it a faint reddish hue--a hue that was baffling, that appeared and disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now grey, distinctly grey, and again giving hints and glints of a vague redness of colour not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience. "looks for all the world like a big husky sled-dog," bill said. "i wouldn't be s'prised to see it wag its tail." "hello, you husky!" he called. "come here, you whatever-your-name-is." "ain't a bit scairt of you," henry laughed. bill waved his hand at it threateningly and shouted loudly; but the animal betrayed no fear. the only change in it that they could notice was an accession of alertness. it still regarded them with the merciless wistfulness of hunger. they were meat, and it was hungry; and it would like to go in and eat them if it dared. "look here, henry," bill said, unconsciously lowering his voice to a whisper because of what he imitated. "we've got three cartridges. but it's a dead shot. couldn't miss it. it's got away with three of our dogs, an' we oughter put a stop to it. what d'ye say?" henry nodded his consent. bill cautiously slipped the gun from under the sled-lashing. the gun was on the way to his shoulder, but it never got there. for in that instant the she-wolf leaped sidewise from the trail into the clump of spruce trees and disappeared. the two men looked at each other. henry whistled long and comprehendingly. "i might have knowed it," bill chided himself aloud as he replaced the gun. "of course a wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at feedin' time, 'd know all about shooting-irons. i tell you right now, henry, that critter's the cause of all our trouble. we'd have six dogs at the present time, 'stead of three, if it wasn't for her. an' i tell you right now, henry, i'm goin' to get her. she's too smart to be shot in the open. but i'm goin' to lay for her. i'll bushwhack her as sure as my name is bill." "you needn't stray off too far in doin' it," his partner admonished. "if that pack ever starts to jump you, them three cartridges'd be wuth no more'n three whoops in hell. them animals is damn hungry, an' once they start in, they'll sure get you, bill." they camped early that night. three dogs could not drag the sled so fast nor for so long hours as could six, and they were showing unmistakable signs of playing out. and the men went early to bed, bill first seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of gnawing-reach of one another. but the wolves were growing bolder, and the men were aroused more than once from their sleep. so near did the wolves approach, that the dogs became frantic with terror, and it was necessary to replenish the fire from time to time in order to keep the adventurous marauders at safer distance. "i've hearn sailors talk of sharks followin' a ship," bill remarked, as he crawled back into the blankets after one such replenishing of the fire. "well, them wolves is land sharks. they know their business better'n we do, an' they ain't a-holdin' our trail this way for their health. they're goin' to get us. they're sure goin' to get us, henry." "they've half got you a'ready, a-talkin' like that," henry retorted sharply. "a man's half licked when he says he is. an' you're half eaten from the way you're goin' on about it." "they've got away with better men than you an' me," bill answered. "oh, shet up your croakin'. you make me all-fired tired." henry rolled over angrily on his side, but was surprised that bill made no similar display of temper. this was not bill's way, for he was easily angered by sharp words. henry thought long over it before he went to sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered down and he dozed off, the thought in his mind was: "there's no mistakin' it, bill's almighty blue. i'll have to cheer him up to-morrow." chapter iii--the hunger cry the day began auspiciously. they had lost no dogs during the night, and they swung out upon the trail and into the silence, the darkness, and the cold with spirits that were fairly light. bill seemed to have forgotten his forebodings of the previous night, and even waxed facetious with the dogs when, at midday, they overturned the sled on a bad piece of trail. it was an awkward mix-up. the sled was upside down and jammed between a tree-trunk and a huge rock, and they were forced to unharness the dogs in order to straighten out the tangle. the two men were bent over the sled and trying to right it, when henry observed one ear sidling away. "here, you, one ear!" he cried, straightening up and turning around on the dog. but one ear broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing behind him. and there, out in the snow of their back track, was the she-wolf waiting for him. as he neared her, he became suddenly cautious. he slowed down to an alert and mincing walk and then stopped. he regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. she seemed to smile at him, showing her teeth in an ingratiating rather than a menacing way. she moved toward him a few steps, playfully, and then halted. one ear drew near to her, still alert and cautious, his tail and ears in the air, his head held high. he tried to sniff noses with her, but she retreated playfully and coyly. every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding retreat on her part. step by step she was luring him away from the security of his human companionship. once, as though a warning had in vague ways flitted through his intelligence, he turned his head and looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates, and at the two men who were calling to him. but whatever idea was forming in his mind, was dissipated by the she-wolf, who advanced upon him, sniffed noses with him for a fleeting instant, and then resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances. in the meantime, bill had bethought himself of the rifle. but it was jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the time henry had helped him to right the load, one ear and the she-wolf were too close together and the distance too great to risk a shot. too late one ear learned his mistake. before they saw the cause, the two men saw him turn and start to run back toward them. then, approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat they saw a dozen wolves, lean and grey, bounding across the snow. on the instant, the shewolf's coyness and playfulness disappeared. with a snarl she sprang upon one ear. he thrust her off with his shoulder, and, his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the sled, he altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it. more wolves were appearing every moment and joining in the chase. the she-wolf was one leap behind one ear and holding her own. "where are you goin'?" henry suddenly demanded, laying his hand on his partner's arm. bill shook it off. "i won't stand it," he said. "they ain't a-goin' to get any more of our dogs if i can help it." gun in hand, he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of the trail. his intention was apparent enough. taking the sled as the centre of the circle that one ear was making, bill planned to tap that circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. with his rifle, in the broad daylight, it might be possible for him to awe the wolves and save the dog. "say, bill!" henry called after him. "be careful! don't take no chances!" henry sat down on the sled and watched. there was nothing else for him to do. bill had already gone from sight; but now and again, appearing and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered clumps of spruce, could be seen one ear. henry judged his case to be hopeless. the dog was thoroughly alive to its danger, but it was running on the outer circle while the wolf-pack was running on the inner and shorter circle. it was vain to think of one ear so outdistancing his pursuers as to be able to cut across their circle in advance of them and to regain the sled. the different lines were rapidly approaching a point. somewhere out there in the snow, screened from his sight by trees and thickets, henry knew that the wolf-pack, one ear, and bill were coming together. all too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected, it happened. he heard a shot, then two shots, in rapid succession, and he knew that bill's ammunition was gone. then he heard a great outcry of snarls and yelps. he recognised one ear's yell of pain and terror, and he heard a wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken animal. and that was all. the snarls ceased. the yelping died away. silence settled down again over the lonely land. he sat for a long while upon the sled. there was no need for him to go and see what had happened. he knew it as though it had taken place before his eyes. once, he roused with a start and hastily got the axe out from underneath the lashings. but for some time longer he sat and brooded, the two remaining dogs crouching and trembling at his feet. at last he arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience had gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled. he passed a rope over his shoulder, a man-trace, and pulled with the dogs. he did not go far. at the first hint of darkness he hastened to make a camp, and he saw to it that he had a generous supply of firewood. he fed the dogs, cooked and ate his supper, and made his bed close to the fire. but he was not destined to enjoy that bed. before his eyes closed the wolves had drawn too near for safety. it no longer required an effort of the vision to see them. they were all about him and the fire, in a narrow circle, and he could see them plainly in the firelight lying down, sitting up, crawling forward on their bellies, or slinking back and forth. they even slept. here and there he could see one curled up in the snow like a dog, taking the sleep that was now denied himself. he kept the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone intervened between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs. his two dogs stayed close by him, one on either side, leaning against him for protection, crying and whimpering, and at times snarling desperately when a wolf approached a little closer than usual. at such moments, when his dogs snarled, the whole circle would be agitated, the wolves coming to their feet and pressing tentatively forward, a chorus of snarls and eager yelps rising about him. then the circle would lie down again, and here and there a wolf would resume its broken nap. but this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him. bit by bit, an inch at a time, with here a wolf bellying forward, and there a wolf bellying forward, the circle would narrow until the brutes were almost within springing distance. then he would seize brands from the fire and hurl them into the pack. a hasty drawing back always resulted, accompanied by angry yelps and frightened snarls when a well-aimed brand struck and scorched a too daring animal. morning found the man haggard and worn, wide-eyed from want of sleep. he cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o'clock, when, with the coming of daylight, the wolf-pack drew back, he set about the task he had planned through the long hours of the night. chopping down young saplings, he made them cross-bars of a scaffold by lashing them high up to the trunks of standing trees. using the sled-lashing for a heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs, he hoisted the coffin to the top of the scaffold. "they got bill, an' they may get me, but they'll sure never get you, young man," he said, addressing the dead body in its tree-sepulchre. then he took the trail, the lightened sled bounding along behind the willing dogs; for they, too, knew that safety lay open in the gaining of fort mcgurry. the wolves were now more open in their pursuit, trotting sedately behind and ranging along on either side, their red tongues lolling out, their lean sides showing the undulating ribs with every movement. they were very lean, mere skin-bags stretched over bony frames, with strings for muscles--so lean that henry found it in his mind to marvel that they still kept their feet and did not collapse forthright in the snow. he did not dare travel until dark. at midday, not only did the sun warm the southern horizon, but it even thrust its upper rim, pale and golden, above the sky-line. he received it as a sign. the days were growing longer. the sun was returning. but scarcely had the cheer of its light departed, than he went into camp. there were still several hours of grey daylight and sombre twilight, and he utilised them in chopping an enormous supply of fire-wood. with night came horror. not only were the starving wolves growing bolder, but lack of sleep was telling upon henry. he dozed despite himself, crouching by the fire, the blankets about his shoulders, the axe between his knees, and on either side a dog pressing close against him. he awoke once and saw in front of him, not a dozen feet away, a big grey wolf, one of the largest of the pack. and even as he looked, the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner of a lazy dog, yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a possessive eye, as if, in truth, he were merely a delayed meal that was soon to be eaten. this certitude was shown by the whole pack. fully a score he could count, staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow. they reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and awaiting permission to begin to eat. and he was the food they were to eat! he wondered how and when the meal would begin. as he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his own body which he had never felt before. he watched his moving muscles and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers. by the light of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly and repeatedly now one at a time, now all together, spreading them wide or making quick gripping movements. he studied the nail-formation, and prodded the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly, gauging the while the nerve-sensations produced. it fascinated him, and he grew suddenly fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately. then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle drawn expectantly about him, and like a blow the realisation would strike him that this wonderful body of his, this living flesh, was no more than so much meat, a quest of ravenous animals, to be torn and slashed by their hungry fangs, to be sustenance to them as the moose and the rabbit had often been sustenance to him. he came out of a doze that was half nightmare, to see the red-hued shewolf before him. she was not more than half a dozen feet away sitting in the snow and wistfully regarding him. the two dogs were whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of them. she was looking at the man, and for some time he returned her look. there was nothing threatening about her. she looked at him merely with a great wistfulness, but he knew it to be the wistfulness of an equally great hunger. he was the food, and the sight of him excited in her the gustatory sensations. her mouth opened, the saliva drooled forth, and she licked her chops with the pleasure of anticipation. a spasm of fear went through him. he reached hastily for a brand to throw at her. but even as he reached, and before his fingers had closed on the missile, she sprang back into safety; and he knew that she was used to having things thrown at her. she had snarled as she sprang away, baring her white fangs to their roots, all her wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity that made him shudder. he glanced at the hand that held the brand, noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it, how they adjusted themselves to all the inequalities of the surface, curling over and under and about the rough wood, and one little finger, too close to the burning portion of the brand, sensitively and automatically writhing back from the hurtful heat to a cooler gripping-place; and in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of those same sensitive and delicate fingers being crushed and torn by the white teeth of the she-wolf. never had he been so fond of this body of his as now when his tenure of it was so precarious. all night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. when he dozed despite himself, the whimpering and snarling of the dogs aroused him. morning came, but for the first time the light of day failed to scatter the wolves. the man waited in vain for them to go. they remained in a circle about him and his fire, displaying an arrogance of possession that shook his courage born of the morning light. he made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail. but the moment he left the protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped for him, but leaped short. he saved himself by springing back, the jaws snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh. the rest of the pack was now up and surging upon him, and a throwing of firebrands right and left was necessary to drive them back to a respectful distance. even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh wood. twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce. he spent half the day extending his campfire to the tree, at any moment a half dozen burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies. once at the tree, he studied the surrounding forest in order to fell the tree in the direction of the most firewood. the night was a repetition of the night before, save that the need for sleep was becoming overpowering. the snarling of his dogs was losing its efficacy. besides, they were snarling all the time, and his benumbed and drowsy senses no longer took note of changing pitch and intensity. he awoke with a start. the she-wolf was less than a yard from him. mechanically, at short range, without letting go of it, he thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth. she sprang away, yelling with pain, and while he took delight in the smell of burning flesh and hair, he watched her shaking her head and growling wrathfully a score of feet away. but this time, before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot to his right hand. his eyes were closed but few minutes when the burn of the flame on his flesh awakened him. for several hours he adhered to this programme. every time he was thus awakened he drove back the wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire, and rearranged the pine-knot on his hand. all worked well, but there came a time when he fastened the pineknot insecurely. as his eyes closed it fell away from his hand. he dreamed. it seemed to him that he was in fort mcgurry. it was warm and comfortable, and he was playing cribbage with the factor. also, it seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. they were howling at the very gates, and sometimes he and the factor paused from the game to listen and laugh at the futile efforts of the wolves to get in. and then, so strange was the dream, there was a crash. the door was burst open. he could see the wolves flooding into the big living-room of the fort. they were leaping straight for him and the factor. with the bursting open of the door, the noise of their howling had increased tremendously. this howling now bothered him. his dream was merging into something else--he knew not what; but through it all, following him, persisted the howling. and then he awoke to find the howling real. there was a great snarling and yelping. the wolves were rushing him. they were all about him and upon him. the teeth of one had closed upon his arm. instinctively he leaped into the fire, and as he leaped, he felt the sharp slash of teeth that tore through the flesh of his leg. then began a fire fight. his stout mittens temporarily protected his hands, and he scooped live coals into the air in all directions, until the campfire took on the semblance of a volcano. but it could not last long. his face was blistering in the heat, his eyebrows and lashes were singed off, and the heat was becoming unbearable to his feet. with a flaming brand in each hand, he sprang to the edge of the fire. the wolves had been driven back. on every side, wherever the live coals had fallen, the snow was sizzling, and every little while a retiring wolf, with wild leap and snort and snarl, announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon. flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies, the man thrust his smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his feet. his two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had served as a course in the protracted meal which had begun days before with fatty, the last course of which would likely be himself in the days to follow. "you ain't got me yet!" he cried, savagely shaking his fist at the hungry beasts; and at the sound of his voice the whole circle was agitated, there was a general snarl, and the she-wolf slid up close to him across the snow and watched him with hungry wistfulness. he set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him. he extended the fire into a large circle. inside this circle he crouched, his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the melting snow. when he had thus disappeared within his shelter of flame, the whole pack came curiously to the rim of the fire to see what had become of him. hitherto they had been denied access to the fire, and they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like so many dogs, blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in the unaccustomed warmth. then the shewolf sat down, pointed her nose at a star, and began to howl. one by one the wolves joined her, till the whole pack, on haunches, with noses pointed skyward, was howling its hunger cry. dawn came, and daylight. the fire was burning low. the fuel had run out, and there was need to get more. the man attempted to step out of his circle of flame, but the wolves surged to meet him. burning brands made them spring aside, but they no longer sprang back. in vain he strove to drive them back. as he gave up and stumbled inside his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed, and landed with all four feet in the coals. it cried out with terror, at the same time snarling, and scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow. the man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position. his body leaned forward from the hips. his shoulders, relaxed and drooping, and his head on his knees advertised that he had given up the struggle. now and again he raised his head to note the dying down of the fire. the circle of flame and coals was breaking into segments with openings in between. these openings grew in size, the segments diminished. "i guess you can come an' get me any time," he mumbled. "anyway, i'm goin' to sleep." once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, directly in front of him, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him. again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him. a mysterious change had taken place--so mysterious a change that he was shocked wider awake. something had happened. he could not understand at first. then he discovered it. the wolves were gone. remained only the trampled snow to show how closely they had pressed him. sleep was welling up and gripping him again, his head was sinking down upon his knees, when he roused with a sudden start. there were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking of harnesses, and the eager whimpering of straining dogs. four sleds pulled in from the river bed to the camp among the trees. half a dozen men were about the man who crouched in the centre of the dying fire. they were shaking and prodding him into consciousness. he looked at them like a drunken man and maundered in strange, sleepy speech. "red she-wolf. . . . come in with the dogs at feedin' time. . . . first she ate the dog-food. . . . then she ate the dogs. . . . an' after that she ate bill. . . . " "where's lord alfred?" one of the men bellowed in his ear, shaking him roughly. he shook his head slowly. "no, she didn't eat him. . . . he's roostin' in a tree at the last camp." "dead?" the man shouted. "an' in a box," henry answered. he jerked his shoulder petulantly away from the grip of his questioner. "say, you lemme alone. . . . i'm jes' plump tuckered out. . . . goo' night, everybody." his eyes fluttered and went shut. his chin fell forward on his chest. and even as they eased him down upon the blankets his snores were rising on the frosty air. but there was another sound. far and faint it was, in the remote distance, the cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of other meat than the man it had just missed. part ii chapter i--the battle of the fangs it was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men's voices and the whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the she-wolf who was first to spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying flame. the pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted down, and it lingered for several minutes, making sure of the sounds, and then it, too, sprang away on the trail made by the she-wolf. running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf--one of its several leaders. it was he who directed the pack's course on the heels of the she-wolf. it was he who snarled warningly at the younger members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs when they ambitiously tried to pass him. and it was he who increased the pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the snow. she dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed position, and took the pace of the pack. he did not snarl at her, nor show his teeth, when any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance of him. on the contrary, he seemed kindly disposed toward her--too kindly to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her, and when he ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth. nor was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. at such times he betrayed no anger. he merely sprang to the side and ran stiffly ahead for several awkward leaps, in carriage and conduct resembling an abashed country swain. this was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had other troubles. on her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and marked with the scars of many battles. he ran always on her right side. the fact that he had but one eye, and that the left eye, might account for this. he, also, was addicted to crowding her, to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or neck. as with the running mate on the left, she repelled these attentions with her teeth; but when both bestowed their attentions at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled, with quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way of her feet before her. at such times her running mates flashed their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. they might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more pressing hunger-need of the pack. after each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from the sharp-toothed object of his desire, he shouldered against a young threeyear-old that ran on his blind right side. this young wolf had attained his full size; and, considering the weak and famished condition of the pack, he possessed more than the average vigour and spirit. nevertheless, he ran with his head even with the shoulder of his one-eyed elder. when he ventured to run abreast of the older wolf (which was seldom), a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the shoulder again. sometimes, however, he dropped cautiously and slowly behind and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf. this was doubly resented, even triply resented. when she snarled her displeasure, the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. sometimes she whirled with him. and sometimes the young leader on the left whirled, too. at such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young wolf stopped precipitately, throwing himself back on his haunches, with forelegs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling. this confusion in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in the rear. the wolves behind collided with the young wolf and expressed their displeasure by administering sharp nips on his hind-legs and flanks. he was laying up trouble for himself, for lack of food and short tempers went together; but with the boundless faith of youth he persisted in repeating the manoeuvre every little while, though it never succeeded in gaining anything for him but discomfiture. had there been food, love-making and fighting would have gone on apace, and the pack-formation would have been broken up. but the situation of the pack was desperate. it was lean with long-standing hunger. it ran below its ordinary speed. at the rear limped the weak members, the very young and the very old. at the front were the strongest. yet all were more like skeletons than full-bodied wolves. nevertheless, with the exception of the ones that limped, the movements of the animals were effortless and tireless. their stringy muscles seemed founts of inexhaustible energy. behind every steel-like contraction of a muscle, lay another steel-like contraction, and another, and another, apparently without end. they ran many miles that day. they ran through the night. and the next day found them still running. they were running over the surface of a world frozen and dead. no life stirred. they alone moved through the vast inertness. they alone were alive, and they sought for other things that were alive in order that they might devour them and continue to live. they crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a lower-lying country before their quest was rewarded. then they came upon moose. it was a big bull they first found. here was meat and life, and it was guarded by no mysterious fires nor flying missiles of flame. splay hoofs and palmated antlers they knew, and they flung their customary patience and caution to the wind. it was a brief fight and fierce. the big bull was beset on every side. he ripped them open or split their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs. he crushed them and broke them on his large horns. he stamped them into the snow under him in the wallowing struggle. but he was foredoomed, and he went down with the she-wolf tearing savagely at his throat, and with other teeth fixed everywhere upon him, devouring him alive, before ever his last struggles ceased or his last damage had been wrought. there was food in plenty. the bull weighed over eight hundred pounds--fully twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the forty-odd wolves of the pack. but if they could fast prodigiously, they could feed prodigiously, and soon a few scattered bones were all that remained of the splendid live brute that had faced the pack a few hours before. there was now much resting and sleeping. with full stomachs, bickering and quarrelling began among the younger males, and this continued through the few days that followed before the breaking-up of the pack. the famine was over. the wolves were now in the country of game, and though they still hunted in pack, they hunted more cautiously, cutting out heavy cows or crippled old bulls from the small moose-herds they ran across. there came a day, in this land of plenty, when the wolf-pack split in half and went in different directions. the she-wolf, the young leader on her left, and the one-eyed elder on her right, led their half of the pack down to the mackenzie river and across into the lake country to the east. each day this remnant of the pack dwindled. two by two, male and female, the wolves were deserting. occasionally a solitary male was driven out by the sharp teeth of his rivals. in the end there remained only four: the she-wolf, the young leader, the one-eyed one, and the ambitious threeyear-old. the she-wolf had by now developed a ferocious temper. her three suitors all bore the marks of her teeth. yet they never replied in kind, never defended themselves against her. they turned their shoulders to her most savage slashes, and with wagging tails and mincing steps strove to placate her wrath. but if they were all mildness toward her, they were all fierceness toward one another. the three-year-old grew too ambitious in his fierceness. he caught the one-eyed elder on his blind side and ripped his ear into ribbons. though the grizzled old fellow could see only on one side, against the youth and vigour of the other he brought into play the wisdom of long years of experience. his lost eye and his scarred muzzle bore evidence to the nature of his experience. he had survived too many battles to be in doubt for a moment about what to do. the battle began fairly, but it did not end fairly. there was no telling what the outcome would have been, for the third wolf joined the elder, and together, old leader and young leader, they attacked the ambitious three-year-old and proceeded to destroy him. he was beset on either side by the merciless fangs of his erstwhile comrades. forgotten were the days they had hunted together, the game they had pulled down, the famine they had suffered. that business was a thing of the past. the business of love was at hand--ever a sterner and crueller business than that of food-getting. and in the meanwhile, the she-wolf, the cause of it all, sat down contentedly on her haunches and watched. she was even pleased. this was her day--and it came not often--when manes bristled, and fang smote fang or ripped and tore the yielding flesh, all for the possession of her. and in the business of love the three-year-old, who had made this his first adventure upon it, yielded up his life. on either side of his body stood his two rivals. they were gazing at the she-wolf, who sat smiling in the snow. but the elder leader was wise, very wise, in love even as in battle. the younger leader turned his head to lick a wound on his shoulder. the curve of his neck was turned toward his rival. with his one eye the elder saw the opportunity. he darted in low and closed with his fangs. it was a long, ripping slash, and deep as well. his teeth, in passing, burst the wall of the great vein of the throat. then he leaped clear. the young leader snarled terribly, but his snarl broke midmost into a tickling cough. bleeding and coughing, already stricken, he sprang at the elder and fought while life faded from him, his legs going weak beneath him, the light of day dulling on his eyes, his blows and springs falling shorter and shorter. and all the while the she-wolf sat on her haunches and smiled. she was made glad in vague ways by the battle, for this was the love-making of the wild, the sex-tragedy of the natural world that was tragedy only to those that died. to those that survived it was not tragedy, but realisation and achievement. when the young leader lay in the snow and moved no more, one eye stalked over to the she-wolf. his carriage was one of mingled triumph and caution. he was plainly expectant of a rebuff, and he was just as plainly surprised when her teeth did not flash out at him in anger. for the first time she met him with a kindly manner. she sniffed noses with him, and even condescended to leap about and frisk and play with him in quite puppyish fashion. and he, for all his grey years and sage experience, behaved quite as puppyishly and even a little more foolishly. forgotten already were the vanquished rivals and the love-tale red-written on the snow. forgotten, save once, when old one eye stopped for a moment to lick his stiffening wounds. then it was that his lips half writhed into a snarl, and the hair of his neck and shoulders involuntarily bristled, while he half crouched for a spring, his claws spasmodically clutching into the snow-surface for firmer footing. but it was all forgotten the next moment, as he sprang after the she-wolf, who was coyly leading him a chase through the woods. after that they ran side by side, like good friends who have come to an understanding. the days passed by, and they kept together, hunting their meat and killing and eating it in common. after a time the she-wolf began to grow restless. she seemed to be searching for something that she could not find. the hollows under fallen trees seemed to attract her, and she spent much time nosing about among the larger snow-piled crevices in the rocks and in the caves of overhanging banks. old one eye was not interested at all, but he followed her good-naturedly in her quest, and when her investigations in particular places were unusually protracted, he would lie down and wait until she was ready to go on. they did not remain in one place, but travelled across country until they regained the mackenzie river, down which they slowly went, leaving it often to hunt game along the small streams that entered it, but always returning to it again. sometimes they chanced upon other wolves, usually in pairs; but there was no friendliness of intercourse displayed on either side, no gladness at meeting, no desire to return to the pack-formation. several times they encountered solitary wolves. these were always males, and they were pressingly insistent on joining with one eye and his mate. this he resented, and when she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, bristling and showing her teeth, the aspiring solitary ones would back off, turn-tail, and continue on their lonely way. one moonlight night, running through the quiet forest, one eye suddenly halted. his muzzle went up, his tail stiffened, and his nostrils dilated as he scented the air. one foot also he held up, after the manner of a dog. he was not satisfied, and he continued to smell the air, striving to understand the message borne upon it to him. one careless sniff had satisfied his mate, and she trotted on to reassure him. though he followed her, he was still dubious, and he could not forbear an occasional halt in order more carefully to study the warning. she crept out cautiously on the edge of a large open space in the midst of the trees. for some time she stood alone. then one eye, creeping and crawling, every sense on the alert, every hair radiating infinite suspicion, joined her. they stood side by side, watching and listening and smelling. to their ears came the sounds of dogs wrangling and scuffling, the guttural cries of men, the sharper voices of scolding women, and once the shrill and plaintive cry of a child. with the exception of the huge bulks of the skin-lodges, little could be seen save the flames of the fire, broken by the movements of intervening bodies, and the smoke rising slowly on the quiet air. but to their nostrils came the myriad smells of an indian camp, carrying a story that was largely incomprehensible to one eye, but every detail of which the she-wolf knew. she was strangely stirred, and sniffed and sniffed with an increasing delight. but old one eye was doubtful. he betrayed his apprehension, and started tentatively to go. she turned and touched his neck with her muzzle in a reassuring way, then regarded the camp again. a new wistfulness was in her face, but it was not the wistfulness of hunger. she was thrilling to a desire that urged her to go forward, to be in closer to that fire, to be squabbling with the dogs, and to be avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men. one eye moved impatiently beside her; her unrest came back upon her, and she knew again her pressing need to find the thing for which she searched. she turned and trotted back into the forest, to the great relief of one eye, who trotted a little to the fore until they were well within the shelter of the trees. as they slid along, noiseless as shadows, in the moonlight, they came upon a run-way. both noses went down to the footprints in the snow. these footprints were very fresh. one eye ran ahead cautiously, his mate at his heels. the broad pads of their feet were spread wide and in contact with the snow were like velvet. one eye caught sight of a dim movement of white in the midst of the white. his sliding gait had been deceptively swift, but it was as nothing to the speed at which he now ran. before him was bounding the faint patch of white he had discovered. they were running along a narrow alley flanked on either side by a growth of young spruce. through the trees the mouth of the alley could be seen, opening out on a moonlit glade. old one eye was rapidly overhauling the fleeing shape of white. bound by bound he gained. now he was upon it. one leap more and his teeth would be sinking into it. but that leap was never made. high in the air, and straight up, soared the shape of white, now a struggling snowshoe rabbit that leaped and bounded, executing a fantastic dance there above him in the air and never once returning to earth. one eye sprang back with a snort of sudden fright, then shrank down to the snow and crouched, snarling threats at this thing of fear he did not understand. but the she-wolf coolly thrust past him. she poised for a moment, then sprang for the dancing rabbit. she, too, soared high, but not so high as the quarry, and her teeth clipped emptily together with a metallic snap. she made another leap, and another. her mate had slowly relaxed from his crouch and was watching her. he now evinced displeasure at her repeated failures, and himself made a mighty spring upward. his teeth closed upon the rabbit, and he bore it back to earth with him. but at the same time there was a suspicious crackling movement beside him, and his astonished eye saw a young spruce sapling bending down above him to strike him. his jaws let go their grip, and he leaped backward to escape this strange danger, his lips drawn back from his fangs, his throat snarling, every hair bristling with rage and fright. and in that moment the sapling reared its slender length upright and the rabbit soared dancing in the air again. the she-wolf was angry. she sank her fangs into her mate's shoulder in reproof; and he, frightened, unaware of what constituted this new onslaught, struck back ferociously and in still greater fright, ripping down the side of the she-wolf's muzzle. for him to resent such reproof was equally unexpected to her, and she sprang upon him in snarling indignation. then he discovered his mistake and tried to placate her. but she proceeded to punish him roundly, until he gave over all attempts at placation, and whirled in a circle, his head away from her, his shoulders receiving the punishment of her teeth. in the meantime the rabbit danced above them in the air. the she-wolf sat down in the snow, and old one eye, now more in fear of his mate than of the mysterious sapling, again sprang for the rabbit. as he sank back with it between his teeth, he kept his eye on the sapling. as before, it followed him back to earth. he crouched down under the impending blow, his hair bristling, but his teeth still keeping tight hold of the rabbit. but the blow did not fall. the sapling remained bent above him. when he moved it moved, and he growled at it through his clenched jaws; when he remained still, it remained still, and he concluded it was safer to continue remaining still. yet the warm blood of the rabbit tasted good in his mouth. it was his mate who relieved him from the quandary in which he found himself. she took the rabbit from him, and while the sapling swayed and teetered threateningly above her she calmly gnawed off the rabbit's head. at once the sapling shot up, and after that gave no more trouble, remaining in the decorous and perpendicular position in which nature had intended it to grow. then, between them, the she-wolf and one eye devoured the game which the mysterious sapling had caught for them. there were other run-ways and alleys where rabbits were hanging in the air, and the wolf-pair prospected them all, the she-wolf leading the way, old one eye following and observant, learning the method of robbing snares--a knowledge destined to stand him in good stead in the days to come. chapter ii--the lair for two days the she-wolf and one eye hung about the indian camp. he was worried and apprehensive, yet the camp lured his mate and she was loath to depart. but when, one morning, the air was rent with the report of a rifle close at hand, and a bullet smashed against a tree trunk several inches from one eye's head, they hesitated no more, but went off on a long, swinging lope that put quick miles between them and the danger. they did not go far--a couple of days' journey. the she-wolf's need to find the thing for which she searched had now become imperative. she was getting very heavy, and could run but slowly. once, in the pursuit of a rabbit, which she ordinarily would have caught with ease, she gave over and lay down and rested. one eye came to her; but when he touched her neck gently with his muzzle she snapped at him with such quick fierceness that he tumbled over backward and cut a ridiculous figure in his effort to escape her teeth. her temper was now shorter than ever; but he had become more patient than ever and more solicitous. and then she found the thing for which she sought. it was a few miles up a small stream that in the summer time flowed into the mackenzie, but that then was frozen over and frozen down to its rocky bottom--a dead stream of solid white from source to mouth. the she-wolf was trotting wearily along, her mate well in advance, when she came upon the overhanging, high clay-bank. she turned aside and trotted over to it. the wear and tear of spring storms and melting snows had underwashed the bank and in one place had made a small cave out of a narrow fissure. she paused at the mouth of the cave and looked the wall over carefully. then, on one side and the other, she ran along the base of the wall to where its abrupt bulk merged from the softer-lined landscape. returning to the cave, she entered its narrow mouth. for a short three feet she was compelled to crouch, then the walls widened and rose higher in a little round chamber nearly six feet in diameter. the roof barely cleared her head. it was dry and cosey. she inspected it with painstaking care, while one eye, who had returned, stood in the entrance and patiently watched her. she dropped her head, with her nose to the ground and directed toward a point near to her closely bunched feet, and around this point she circled several times; then, with a tired sigh that was almost a grunt, she curled her body in, relaxed her legs, and dropped down, her head toward the entrance. one eye, with pointed, interested ears, laughed at her, and beyond, outlined against the white light, she could see the brush of his tail waving good-naturedly. her own ears, with a snuggling movement, laid their sharp points backward and down against the head for a moment, while her mouth opened and her tongue lolled peaceably out, and in this way she expressed that she was pleased and satisfied. one eye was hungry. though he lay down in the entrance and slept, his sleep was fitful. he kept awaking and cocking his ears at the bright world without, where the april sun was blazing across the snow. when he dozed, upon his ears would steal the faint whispers of hidden trickles of running water, and he would rouse and listen intently. the sun had come back, and all the awakening northland world was calling to him. life was stirring. the feel of spring was in the air, the feel of growing life under the snow, of sap ascending in the trees, of buds bursting the shackles of the frost. he cast anxious glances at his mate, but she showed no desire to get up. he looked outside, and half a dozen snow-birds fluttered across his field of vision. he started to get up, then looked back to his mate again, and settled down and dozed. a shrill and minute singing stole upon his hearing. once, and twice, he sleepily brushed his nose with his paw. then he woke up. there, buzzing in the air at the tip of his nose, was a lone mosquito. it was a full-grown mosquito, one that had lain frozen in a dry log all winter and that had now been thawed out by the sun. he could resist the call of the world no longer. besides, he was hungry. he crawled over to his mate and tried to persuade her to get up. but she only snarled at him, and he walked out alone into the bright sunshine to find the snow-surface soft under foot and the travelling difficult. he went up the frozen bed of the stream, where the snow, shaded by the trees, was yet hard and crystalline. he was gone eight hours, and he came back through the darkness hungrier than when he had started. he had found game, but he had not caught it. he had broken through the melting snow crust, and wallowed, while the snowshoe rabbits had skimmed along on top lightly as ever. he paused at the mouth of the cave with a sudden shock of suspicion. faint, strange sounds came from within. they were sounds not made by his mate, and yet they were remotely familiar. he bellied cautiously inside and was met by a warning snarl from the she-wolf. this he received without perturbation, though he obeyed it by keeping his distance; but he remained interested in the other sounds--faint, muffled sobbings and slubberings. his mate warned him irritably away, and he curled up and slept in the entrance. when morning came and a dim light pervaded the lair, he again sought after the source of the remotely familiar sounds. there was a new note in his mate's warning snarl. it was a jealous note, and he was very careful in keeping a respectful distance. nevertheless, he made out, sheltering between her legs against the length of her body, five strange little bundles of life, very feeble, very helpless, making tiny whimpering noises, with eyes that did not open to the light. he was surprised. it was not the first time in his long and successful life that this thing had happened. it had happened many times, yet each time it was as fresh a surprise as ever to him. his mate looked at him anxiously. every little while she emitted a low growl, and at times, when it seemed to her he approached too near, the growl shot up in her throat to a sharp snarl. of her own experience she had no memory of the thing happening; but in her instinct, which was the experience of all the mothers of wolves, there lurked a memory of fathers that had eaten their new-born and helpless progeny. it manifested itself as a fear strong within her, that made her prevent one eye from more closely inspecting the cubs he had fathered. but there was no danger. old one eye was feeling the urge of an impulse, that was, in turn, an instinct that had come down to him from all the fathers of wolves. he did not question it, nor puzzle over it. it was there, in the fibre of his being; and it was the most natural thing in the world that he should obey it by turning his back on his new-born family and by trotting out and away on the meat-trail whereby he lived. five or six miles from the lair, the stream divided, its forks going off among the mountains at a right angle. here, leading up the left fork, he came upon a fresh track. he smelled it and found it so recent that he crouched swiftly, and looked in the direction in which it disappeared. then he turned deliberately and took the right fork. the footprint was much larger than the one his own feet made, and he knew that in the wake of such a trail there was little meat for him. half a mile up the right fork, his quick ears caught the sound of gnawing teeth. he stalked the quarry and found it to be a porcupine, standing upright against a tree and trying his teeth on the bark. one eye approached carefully but hopelessly. he knew the breed, though he had never met it so far north before; and never in his long life had porcupine served him for a meal. but he had long since learned that there was such a thing as chance, or opportunity, and he continued to draw near. there was never any telling what might happen, for with live things events were somehow always happening differently. the porcupine rolled itself into a ball, radiating long, sharp needles in all directions that defied attack. in his youth one eye had once sniffed too near a similar, apparently inert ball of quills, and had the tail flick out suddenly in his face. one quill he had carried away in his muzzle, where it had remained for weeks, a rankling flame, until it finally worked out. so he lay down, in a comfortable crouching position, his nose fully a foot away, and out of the line of the tail. thus he waited, keeping perfectly quiet. there was no telling. something might happen. the porcupine might unroll. there might be opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust of paw into the tender, unguarded belly. but at the end of half an hour he arose, growled wrathfully at the motionless ball, and trotted on. he had waited too often and futilely in the past for porcupines to unroll, to waste any more time. he continued up the right fork. the day wore along, and nothing rewarded his hunt. the urge of his awakened instinct of fatherhood was strong upon him. he must find meat. in the afternoon he blundered upon a ptarmigan. he came out of a thicket and found himself face to face with the slow-witted bird. it was sitting on a log, not a foot beyond the end of his nose. each saw the other. the bird made a startled rise, but he struck it with his paw, and smashed it down to earth, then pounced upon it, and caught it in his teeth as it scuttled across the snow trying to rise in the air again. as his teeth crunched through the tender flesh and fragile bones, he began naturally to eat. then he remembered, and, turning on the backtrack, started for home, carrying the ptarmigan in his mouth. a mile above the forks, running velvet-footed as was his custom, a gliding shadow that cautiously prospected each new vista of the trail, he came upon later imprints of the large tracks he had discovered in the early morning. as the track led his way, he followed, prepared to meet the maker of it at every turn of the stream. he slid his head around a corner of rock, where began an unusually large bend in the stream, and his quick eyes made out something that sent him crouching swiftly down. it was the maker of the track, a large female lynx. she was crouching as he had crouched once that day, in front of her the tight-rolled ball of quills. if he had been a gliding shadow before, he now became the ghost of such a shadow, as he crept and circled around, and came up well to leeward of the silent, motionless pair. he lay down in the snow, depositing the ptarmigan beside him, and with eyes peering through the needles of a low-growing spruce he watched the play of life before him--the waiting lynx and the waiting porcupine, each intent on life; and, such was the curiousness of the game, the way of life for one lay in the eating of the other, and the way of life for the other lay in being not eaten. while old one eye, the wolf crouching in the covert, played his part, too, in the game, waiting for some strange freak of chance, that might help him on the meat-trail which was his way of life. half an hour passed, an hour; and nothing happened. the ball of quills might have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx might have been frozen to marble; and old one eye might have been dead. yet all three animals were keyed to a tenseness of living that was almost painful, and scarcely ever would it come to them to be more alive than they were then in their seeming petrifaction. one eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness. something was happening. the porcupine had at last decided that its enemy had gone away. slowly, cautiously, it was unrolling its ball of impregnable armour. it was agitated by no tremor of anticipation. slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straightened out and lengthened. one eye watching, felt a sudden moistness in his mouth and a drooling of saliva, involuntary, excited by the living meat that was spreading itself like a repast before him. not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered its enemy. in that instant the lynx struck. the blow was like a flash of light. the paw, with rigid claws curving like talons, shot under the tender belly and came back with a swift ripping movement. had the porcupine been entirely unrolled, or had it not discovered its enemy a fraction of a second before the blow was struck, the paw would have escaped unscathed; but a side-flick of the tail sank sharp quills into it as it was withdrawn. everything had happened at once--the blow, the counter-blow, the squeal of agony from the porcupine, the big cat's squall of sudden hurt and astonishment. one eye half arose in his excitement, his ears up, his tail straight out and quivering behind him. the lynx's bad temper got the best of her. she sprang savagely at the thing that had hurt her. but the porcupine, squealing and grunting, with disrupted anatomy trying feebly to roll up into its ball-protection, flicked out its tail again, and again the big cat squalled with hurt and astonishment. then she fell to backing away and sneezing, her nose bristling with quills like a monstrous pin-cushion. she brushed her nose with her paws, trying to dislodge the fiery darts, thrust it into the snow, and rubbed it against twigs and branches, and all the time leaping about, ahead, sidewise, up and down, in a frenzy of pain and fright. she sneezed continually, and her stub of a tail was doing its best toward lashing about by giving quick, violent jerks. she quit her antics, and quieted down for a long minute. one eye watched. and even he could not repress a start and an involuntary bristling of hair along his back when she suddenly leaped, without warning, straight up in the air, at the same time emitting a long and most terrible squall. then she sprang away, up the trail, squalling with every leap she made. it was not until her racket had faded away in the distance and died out that one eye ventured forth. he walked as delicately as though all the snow were carpeted with porcupine quills, erect and ready to pierce the soft pads of his feet. the porcupine met his approach with a furious squealing and a clashing of its long teeth. it had managed to roll up in a ball again, but it was not quite the old compact ball; its muscles were too much torn for that. it had been ripped almost in half, and was still bleeding profusely. one eye scooped out mouthfuls of the blood-soaked snow, and chewed and tasted and swallowed. this served as a relish, and his hunger increased mightily; but he was too old in the world to forget his caution. he waited. he lay down and waited, while the porcupine grated its teeth and uttered grunts and sobs and occasional sharp little squeals. in a little while, one eye noticed that the quills were drooping and that a great quivering had set up. the quivering came to an end suddenly. there was a final defiant clash of the long teeth. then all the quills drooped quite down, and the body relaxed and moved no more. with a nervous, shrinking paw, one eye stretched out the porcupine to its full length and turned it over on its back. nothing had happened. it was surely dead. he studied it intently for a moment, then took a careful grip with his teeth and started off down the stream, partly carrying, partly dragging the porcupine, with head turned to the side so as to avoid stepping on the prickly mass. he recollected something, dropped the burden, and trotted back to where he had left the ptarmigan. he did not hesitate a moment. he knew clearly what was to be done, and this he did by promptly eating the ptarmigan. then he returned and took up his burden. when he dragged the result of his day's hunt into the cave, the she-wolf inspected it, turned her muzzle to him, and lightly licked him on the neck. but the next instant she was warning him away from the cubs with a snarl that was less harsh than usual and that was more apologetic than menacing. her instinctive fear of the father of her progeny was toning down. he was behaving as a wolf-father should, and manifesting no unholy desire to devour the young lives she had brought into the world. chapter iii--the grey cub he was different from his brothers and sisters. their hair already betrayed the reddish hue inherited from their mother, the she-wolf; while he alone, in this particular, took after his father. he was the one little grey cub of the litter. he had bred true to the straight wolfstock--in fact, he had bred true to old one eye himself, physically, with but a single exception, and that was he had two eyes to his father's one. the grey cub's eyes had not been open long, yet already he could see with steady clearness. and while his eyes were still closed, he had felt, tasted, and smelled. he knew his two brothers and his two sisters very well. he had begun to romp with them in a feeble, awkward way, and even to squabble, his little throat vibrating with a queer rasping noise (the forerunner of the growl), as he worked himself into a passion. and long before his eyes had opened he had learned by touch, taste, and smell to know his mother--a fount of warmth and liquid food and tenderness. she possessed a gentle, caressing tongue that soothed him when it passed over his soft little body, and that impelled him to snuggle close against her and to doze off to sleep. most of the first month of his life had been passed thus in sleeping; but now he could see quite well, and he stayed awake for longer periods of time, and he was coming to learn his world quite well. his world was gloomy; but he did not know that, for he knew no other world. it was dimlighted; but his eyes had never had to adjust themselves to any other light. his world was very small. its limits were the walls of the lair; but as he had no knowledge of the wide world outside, he was never oppressed by the narrow confines of his existence. but he had early discovered that one wall of his world was different from the rest. this was the mouth of the cave and the source of light. he had discovered that it was different from the other walls long before he had any thoughts of his own, any conscious volitions. it had been an irresistible attraction before ever his eyes opened and looked upon it. the light from it had beat upon his sealed lids, and the eyes and the optic nerves had pulsated to little, sparklike flashes, warm-coloured and strangely pleasing. the life of his body, and of every fibre of his body, the life that was the very substance of his body and that was apart from his own personal life, had yearned toward this light and urged his body toward it in the same way that the cunning chemistry of a plant urges it toward the sun. always, in the beginning, before his conscious life dawned, he had crawled toward the mouth of the cave. and in this his brothers and sisters were one with him. never, in that period, did any of them crawl toward the dark corners of the back-wall. the light drew them as if they were plants; the chemistry of the life that composed them demanded the light as a necessity of being; and their little puppet-bodies crawled blindly and chemically, like the tendrils of a vine. later on, when each developed individuality and became personally conscious of impulsions and desires, the attraction of the light increased. they were always crawling and sprawling toward it, and being driven back from it by their mother. it was in this way that the grey cub learned other attributes of his mother than the soft, soothing tongue. in his insistent crawling toward the light, he discovered in her a nose that with a sharp nudge administered rebuke, and later, a paw, that crushed him down and rolled him over and over with swift, calculating stroke. thus he learned hurt; and on top of it he learned to avoid hurt, first, by not incurring the risk of it; and second, when he had incurred the risk, by dodging and by retreating. these were conscious actions, and were the results of his first generalisations upon the world. before that he had recoiled automatically from hurt, as he had crawled automatically toward the light. after that he recoiled from hurt because he _knew_ that it was hurt. he was a fierce little cub. so were his brothers and sisters. it was to be expected. he was a carnivorous animal. he came of a breed of meatkillers and meat-eaters. his father and mother lived wholly upon meat. the milk he had sucked with his first flickering life, was milk transformed directly from meat, and now, at a month old, when his eyes had been open for but a week, he was beginning himself to eat meat--meat half-digested by the she-wolf and disgorged for the five growing cubs that already made too great demand upon her breast. but he was, further, the fiercest of the litter. he could make a louder rasping growl than any of them. his tiny rages were much more terrible than theirs. it was he that first learned the trick of rolling a fellowcub over with a cunning paw-stroke. and it was he that first gripped another cub by the ear and pulled and tugged and growled through jaws tight-clenched. and certainly it was he that caused the mother the most trouble in keeping her litter from the mouth of the cave. the fascination of the light for the grey cub increased from day to day. he was perpetually departing on yard-long adventures toward the cave's entrance, and as perpetually being driven back. only he did not know it for an entrance. he did not know anything about entrances--passages whereby one goes from one place to another place. he did not know any other place, much less of a way to get there. so to him the entrance of the cave was a wall--a wall of light. as the sun was to the outside dweller, this wall was to him the sun of his world. it attracted him as a candle attracts a moth. he was always striving to attain it. the life that was so swiftly expanding within him, urged him continually toward the wall of light. the life that was within him knew that it was the one way out, the way he was predestined to tread. but he himself did not know anything about it. he did not know there was any outside at all. there was one strange thing about this wall of light. his father (he had already come to recognise his father as the one other dweller in the world, a creature like his mother, who slept near the light and was a bringer of meat)--his father had a way of walking right into the white far wall and disappearing. the grey cub could not understand this. though never permitted by his mother to approach that wall, he had approached the other walls, and encountered hard obstruction on the end of his tender nose. this hurt. and after several such adventures, he left the walls alone. without thinking about it, he accepted this disappearing into the wall as a peculiarity of his father, as milk and half-digested meat were peculiarities of his mother. in fact, the grey cub was not given to thinking--at least, to the kind of thinking customary of men. his brain worked in dim ways. yet his conclusions were as sharp and distinct as those achieved by men. he had a method of accepting things, without questioning the why and wherefore. in reality, this was the act of classification. he was never disturbed over why a thing happened. how it happened was sufficient for him. thus, when he had bumped his nose on the back-wall a few times, he accepted that he would not disappear into walls. in the same way he accepted that his father could disappear into walls. but he was not in the least disturbed by desire to find out the reason for the difference between his father and himself. logic and physics were no part of his mental makeup. like most creatures of the wild, he early experienced famine. there came a time when not only did the meat-supply cease, but the milk no longer came from his mother's breast. at first, the cubs whimpered and cried, but for the most part they slept. it was not long before they were reduced to a coma of hunger. there were no more spats and squabbles, no more tiny rages nor attempts at growling; while the adventures toward the far white wall ceased altogether. the cubs slept, while the life that was in them flickered and died down. one eye was desperate. he ranged far and wide, and slept but little in the lair that had now become cheerless and miserable. the she-wolf, too, left her litter and went out in search of meat. in the first days after the birth of the cubs, one eye had journeyed several times back to the indian camp and robbed the rabbit snares; but, with the melting of the snow and the opening of the streams, the indian camp had moved away, and that source of supply was closed to him. when the grey cub came back to life and again took interest in the far white wall, he found that the population of his world had been reduced. only one sister remained to him. the rest were gone. as he grew stronger, he found himself compelled to play alone, for the sister no longer lifted her head nor moved about. his little body rounded out with the meat he now ate; but the food had come too late for her. she slept continuously, a tiny skeleton flung round with skin in which the flame flickered lower and lower and at last went out. then there came a time when the grey cub no longer saw his father appearing and disappearing in the wall nor lying down asleep in the entrance. this had happened at the end of a second and less severe famine. the she-wolf knew why one eye never came back, but there was no way by which she could tell what she had seen to the grey cub. hunting herself for meat, up the left fork of the stream where lived the lynx, she had followed a day-old trail of one eye. and she had found him, or what remained of him, at the end of the trail. there were many signs of the battle that had been fought, and of the lynx's withdrawal to her lair after having won the victory. before she went away, the she-wolf had found this lair, but the signs told her that the lynx was inside, and she had not dared to venture in. after that, the she-wolf in her hunting avoided the left fork. for she knew that in the lynx's lair was a litter of kittens, and she knew the lynx for a fierce, bad-tempered creature and a terrible fighter. it was all very well for half a dozen wolves to drive a lynx, spitting and bristling, up a tree; but it was quite a different matter for a lone wolf to encounter a lynx--especially when the lynx was known to have a litter of hungry kittens at her back. but the wild is the wild, and motherhood is motherhood, at all times fiercely protective whether in the wild or out of it; and the time was to come when the she-wolf, for her grey cub's sake, would venture the left fork, and the lair in the rocks, and the lynx's wrath. chapter iv--the wall of the world by the time his mother began leaving the cave on hunting expeditions, the cub had learned well the law that forbade his approaching the entrance. not only had this law been forcibly and many times impressed on him by his mother's nose and paw, but in him the instinct of fear was developing. never, in his brief cave-life, had he encountered anything of which to be afraid. yet fear was in him. it had come down to him from a remote ancestry through a thousand thousand lives. it was a heritage he had received directly from one eye and the she-wolf; but to them, in turn, it had been passed down through all the generations of wolves that had gone before. fear!--that legacy of the wild which no animal may escape nor exchange for pottage. so the grey cub knew fear, though he knew not the stuff of which fear was made. possibly he accepted it as one of the restrictions of life. for he had already learned that there were such restrictions. hunger he had known; and when he could not appease his hunger he had felt restriction. the hard obstruction of the cave-wall, the sharp nudge of his mother's nose, the smashing stroke of her paw, the hunger unappeased of several famines, had borne in upon him that all was not freedom in the world, that to life there were limitations and restraints. these limitations and restraints were laws. to be obedient to them was to escape hurt and make for happiness. he did not reason the question out in this man fashion. he merely classified the things that hurt and the things that did not hurt. and after such classification he avoided the things that hurt, the restrictions and restraints, in order to enjoy the satisfactions and the remunerations of life. thus it was that in obedience to the law laid down by his mother, and in obedience to the law of that unknown and nameless thing, fear, he kept away from the mouth of the cave. it remained to him a white wall of light. when his mother was absent, he slept most of the time, while during the intervals that he was awake he kept very quiet, suppressing the whimpering cries that tickled in his throat and strove for noise. once, lying awake, he heard a strange sound in the white wall. he did not know that it was a wolverine, standing outside, all a-trembling with its own daring, and cautiously scenting out the contents of the cave. the cub knew only that the sniff was strange, a something unclassified, therefore unknown and terrible--for the unknown was one of the chief elements that went into the making of fear. the hair bristled upon the grey cub's back, but it bristled silently. how was he to know that this thing that sniffed was a thing at which to bristle? it was not born of any knowledge of his, yet it was the visible expression of the fear that was in him, and for which, in his own life, there was no accounting. but fear was accompanied by another instinct--that of concealment. the cub was in a frenzy of terror, yet he lay without movement or sound, frozen, petrified into immobility, to all appearances dead. his mother, coming home, growled as she smelt the wolverine's track, and bounded into the cave and licked and nozzled him with undue vehemence of affection. and the cub felt that somehow he had escaped a great hurt. but there were other forces at work in the cub, the greatest of which was growth. instinct and law demanded of him obedience. but growth demanded disobedience. his mother and fear impelled him to keep away from the white wall. growth is life, and life is for ever destined to make for light. so there was no damming up the tide of life that was rising within him--rising with every mouthful of meat he swallowed, with every breath he drew. in the end, one day, fear and obedience were swept away by the rush of life, and the cub straddled and sprawled toward the entrance. unlike any other wall with which he had had experience, this wall seemed to recede from him as he approached. no hard surface collided with the tender little nose he thrust out tentatively before him. the substance of the wall seemed as permeable and yielding as light. and as condition, in his eyes, had the seeming of form, so he entered into what had been wall to him and bathed in the substance that composed it. it was bewildering. he was sprawling through solidity. and ever the light grew brighter. fear urged him to go back, but growth drove him on. suddenly he found himself at the mouth of the cave. the wall, inside which he had thought himself, as suddenly leaped back before him to an immeasurable distance. the light had become painfully bright. he was dazzled by it. likewise he was made dizzy by this abrupt and tremendous extension of space. automatically, his eyes were adjusting themselves to the brightness, focusing themselves to meet the increased distance of objects. at first, the wall had leaped beyond his vision. he now saw it again; but it had taken upon itself a remarkable remoteness. also, its appearance had changed. it was now a variegated wall, composed of the trees that fringed the stream, the opposing mountain that towered above the trees, and the sky that out-towered the mountain. a great fear came upon him. this was more of the terrible unknown. he crouched down on the lip of the cave and gazed out on the world. he was very much afraid. because it was unknown, it was hostile to him. therefore the hair stood up on end along his back and his lips wrinkled weakly in an attempt at a ferocious and intimidating snarl. out of his puniness and fright he challenged and menaced the whole wide world. nothing happened. he continued to gaze, and in his interest he forgot to snarl. also, he forgot to be afraid. for the time, fear had been routed by growth, while growth had assumed the guise of curiosity. he began to notice near objects--an open portion of the stream that flashed in the sun, the blasted pine-tree that stood at the base of the slope, and the slope itself, that ran right up to him and ceased two feet beneath the lip of the cave on which he crouched. now the grey cub had lived all his days on a level floor. he had never experienced the hurt of a fall. he did not know what a fall was. so he stepped boldly out upon the air. his hind-legs still rested on the cavelip, so he fell forward head downward. the earth struck him a harsh blow on the nose that made him yelp. then he began rolling down the slope, over and over. he was in a panic of terror. the unknown had caught him at last. it had gripped savagely hold of him and was about to wreak upon him some terrific hurt. growth was now routed by fear, and he ki-yi'd like any frightened puppy. the unknown bore him on he knew not to what frightful hurt, and he yelped and ki-yi'd unceasingly. this was a different proposition from crouching in frozen fear while the unknown lurked just alongside. now the unknown had caught tight hold of him. silence would do no good. besides, it was not fear, but terror, that convulsed him. but the slope grew more gradual, and its base was grass-covered. here the cub lost momentum. when at last he came to a stop, he gave one last agonised yell and then a long, whimpering wail. also, and quite as a matter of course, as though in his life he had already made a thousand toilets, he proceeded to lick away the dry clay that soiled him. after that he sat up and gazed about him, as might the first man of the earth who landed upon mars. the cub had broken through the wall of the world, the unknown had let go its hold of him, and here he was without hurt. but the first man on mars would have experienced less unfamiliarity than did he. without any antecedent knowledge, without any warning whatever that such existed, he found himself an explorer in a totally new world. now that the terrible unknown had let go of him, he forgot that the unknown had any terrors. he was aware only of curiosity in all the things about him. he inspected the grass beneath him, the moss-berry plant just beyond, and the dead trunk of the blasted pine that stood on the edge of an open space among the trees. a squirrel, running around the base of the trunk, came full upon him, and gave him a great fright. he cowered down and snarled. but the squirrel was as badly scared. it ran up the tree, and from a point of safety chattered back savagely. this helped the cub's courage, and though the woodpecker he next encountered gave him a start, he proceeded confidently on his way. such was his confidence, that when a moose-bird impudently hopped up to him, he reached out at it with a playful paw. the result was a sharp peck on the end of his nose that made him cower down and ki-yi. the noise he made was too much for the moose-bird, who sought safety in flight. but the cub was learning. his misty little mind had already made an unconscious classification. there were live things and things not alive. also, he must watch out for the live things. the things not alive remained always in one place, but the live things moved about, and there was no telling what they might do. the thing to expect of them was the unexpected, and for this he must be prepared. he travelled very clumsily. he ran into sticks and things. a twig that he thought a long way off, would the next instant hit him on the nose or rake along his ribs. there were inequalities of surface. sometimes he overstepped and stubbed his nose. quite as often he understepped and stubbed his feet. then there were the pebbles and stones that turned under him when he trod upon them; and from them he came to know that the things not alive were not all in the same state of stable equilibrium as was his cave--also, that small things not alive were more liable than large things to fall down or turn over. but with every mishap he was learning. the longer he walked, the better he walked. he was adjusting himself. he was learning to calculate his own muscular movements, to know his physical limitations, to measure distances between objects, and between objects and himself. his was the luck of the beginner. born to be a hunter of meat (though he did not know it), he blundered upon meat just outside his own cave-door on his first foray into the world. it was by sheer blundering that he chanced upon the shrewdly hidden ptarmigan nest. he fell into it. he had essayed to walk along the trunk of a fallen pine. the rotten bark gave way under his feet, and with a despairing yelp he pitched down the rounded crescent, smashed through the leafage and stalks of a small bush, and in the heart of the bush, on the ground, fetched up in the midst of seven ptarmigan chicks. they made noises, and at first he was frightened at them. then he perceived that they were very little, and he became bolder. they moved. he placed his paw on one, and its movements were accelerated. this was a source of enjoyment to him. he smelled it. he picked it up in his mouth. it struggled and tickled his tongue. at the same time he was made aware of a sensation of hunger. his jaws closed together. there was a crunching of fragile bones, and warm blood ran in his mouth. the taste of it was good. this was meat, the same as his mother gave him, only it was alive between his teeth and therefore better. so he ate the ptarmigan. nor did he stop till he had devoured the whole brood. then he licked his chops in quite the same way his mother did, and began to crawl out of the bush. he encountered a feathered whirlwind. he was confused and blinded by the rush of it and the beat of angry wings. he hid his head between his paws and yelped. the blows increased. the mother ptarmigan was in a fury. then he became angry. he rose up, snarling, striking out with his paws. he sank his tiny teeth into one of the wings and pulled and tugged sturdily. the ptarmigan struggled against him, showering blows upon him with her free wing. it was his first battle. he was elated. he forgot all about the unknown. he no longer was afraid of anything. he was fighting, tearing at a live thing that was striking at him. also, this live thing was meat. the lust to kill was on him. he had just destroyed little live things. he would now destroy a big live thing. he was too busy and happy to know that he was happy. he was thrilling and exulting in ways new to him and greater to him than any he had known before. he held on to the wing and growled between his tight-clenched teeth. the ptarmigan dragged him out of the bush. when she turned and tried to drag him back into the bush's shelter, he pulled her away from it and on into the open. and all the time she was making outcry and striking with her free wing, while feathers were flying like a snow-fall. the pitch to which he was aroused was tremendous. all the fighting blood of his breed was up in him and surging through him. this was living, though he did not know it. he was realising his own meaning in the world; he was doing that for which he was made--killing meat and battling to kill it. he was justifying his existence, than which life can do no greater; for life achieves its summit when it does to the uttermost that which it was equipped to do. after a time, the ptarmigan ceased her struggling. he still held her by the wing, and they lay on the ground and looked at each other. he tried to growl threateningly, ferociously. she pecked on his nose, which by now, what of previous adventures was sore. he winced but held on. she pecked him again and again. from wincing he went to whimpering. he tried to back away from her, oblivious to the fact that by his hold on her he dragged her after him. a rain of pecks fell on his ill-used nose. the flood of fight ebbed down in him, and, releasing his prey, he turned tail and scampered on across the open in inglorious retreat. he lay down to rest on the other side of the open, near the edge of the bushes, his tongue lolling out, his chest heaving and panting, his nose still hurting him and causing him to continue his whimper. but as he lay there, suddenly there came to him a feeling as of something terrible impending. the unknown with all its terrors rushed upon him, and he shrank back instinctively into the shelter of the bush. as he did so, a draught of air fanned him, and a large, winged body swept ominously and silently past. a hawk, driving down out of the blue, had barely missed him. while he lay in the bush, recovering from his fright and peering fearfully out, the mother-ptarmigan on the other side of the open space fluttered out of the ravaged nest. it was because of her loss that she paid no attention to the winged bolt of the sky. but the cub saw, and it was a warning and a lesson to him--the swift downward swoop of the hawk, the short skim of its body just above the ground, the strike of its talons in the body of the ptarmigan, the ptarmigan's squawk of agony and fright, and the hawk's rush upward into the blue, carrying the ptarmigan away with it it was a long time before the cub left its shelter. he had learned much. live things were meat. they were good to eat. also, live things when they were large enough, could give hurt. it was better to eat small live things like ptarmigan chicks, and to let alone large live things like ptarmigan hens. nevertheless he felt a little prick of ambition, a sneaking desire to have another battle with that ptarmigan hen--only the hawk had carried her away. maybe there were other ptarmigan hens. he would go and see. he came down a shelving bank to the stream. he had never seen water before. the footing looked good. there were no inequalities of surface. he stepped boldly out on it; and went down, crying with fear, into the embrace of the unknown. it was cold, and he gasped, breathing quickly. the water rushed into his lungs instead of the air that had always accompanied his act of breathing. the suffocation he experienced was like the pang of death. to him it signified death. he had no conscious knowledge of death, but like every animal of the wild, he possessed the instinct of death. to him it stood as the greatest of hurts. it was the very essence of the unknown; it was the sum of the terrors of the unknown, the one culminating and unthinkable catastrophe that could happen to him, about which he knew nothing and about which he feared everything. he came to the surface, and the sweet air rushed into his open mouth. he did not go down again. quite as though it had been a long-established custom of his he struck out with all his legs and began to swim. the near bank was a yard away; but he had come up with his back to it, and the first thing his eyes rested upon was the opposite bank, toward which he immediately began to swim. the stream was a small one, but in the pool it widened out to a score of feet. midway in the passage, the current picked up the cub and swept him downstream. he was caught in the miniature rapid at the bottom of the pool. here was little chance for swimming. the quiet water had become suddenly angry. sometimes he was under, sometimes on top. at all times he was in violent motion, now being turned over or around, and again, being smashed against a rock. and with every rock he struck, he yelped. his progress was a series of yelps, from which might have been adduced the number of rocks he encountered. below the rapid was a second pool, and here, captured by the eddy, he was gently borne to the bank, and as gently deposited on a bed of gravel. he crawled frantically clear of the water and lay down. he had learned some more about the world. water was not alive. yet it moved. also, it looked as solid as the earth, but was without any solidity at all. his conclusion was that things were not always what they appeared to be. the cub's fear of the unknown was an inherited distrust, and it had now been strengthened by experience. thenceforth, in the nature of things, he would possess an abiding distrust of appearances. he would have to learn the reality of a thing before he could put his faith into it. one other adventure was destined for him that day. he had recollected that there was such a thing in the world as his mother. and then there came to him a feeling that he wanted her more than all the rest of the things in the world. not only was his body tired with the adventures it had undergone, but his little brain was equally tired. in all the days he had lived it had not worked so hard as on this one day. furthermore, he was sleepy. so he started out to look for the cave and his mother, feeling at the same time an overwhelming rush of loneliness and helplessness. he was sprawling along between some bushes, when he heard a sharp intimidating cry. there was a flash of yellow before his eyes. he saw a weasel leaping swiftly away from him. it was a small live thing, and he had no fear. then, before him, at his feet, he saw an extremely small live thing, only several inches long, a young weasel, that, like himself, had disobediently gone out adventuring. it tried to retreat before him. he turned it over with his paw. it made a queer, grating noise. the next moment the flash of yellow reappeared before his eyes. he heard again the intimidating cry, and at the same instant received a sharp blow on the side of the neck and felt the sharp teeth of the mother-weasel cut into his flesh. while he yelped and ki-yi'd and scrambled backward, he saw the motherweasel leap upon her young one and disappear with it into the neighbouring thicket. the cut of her teeth in his neck still hurt, but his feelings were hurt more grievously, and he sat down and weakly whimpered. this mother-weasel was so small and so savage. he was yet to learn that for size and weight the weasel was the most ferocious, vindictive, and terrible of all the killers of the wild. but a portion of this knowledge was quickly to be his. he was still whimpering when the mother-weasel reappeared. she did not rush him, now that her young one was safe. she approached more cautiously, and the cub had full opportunity to observe her lean, snakelike body, and her head, erect, eager, and snake-like itself. her sharp, menacing cry sent the hair bristling along his back, and he snarled warningly at her. she came closer and closer. there was a leap, swifter than his unpractised sight, and the lean, yellow body disappeared for a moment out of the field of his vision. the next moment she was at his throat, her teeth buried in his hair and flesh. at first he snarled and tried to fight; but he was very young, and this was only his first day in the world, and his snarl became a whimper, his fight a struggle to escape. the weasel never relaxed her hold. she hung on, striving to press down with her teeth to the great vein where his life-blood bubbled. the weasel was a drinker of blood, and it was ever her preference to drink from the throat of life itself. the grey cub would have died, and there would have been no story to write about him, had not the she-wolf come bounding through the bushes. the weasel let go the cub and flashed at the she-wolf's throat, missing, but getting a hold on the jaw instead. the she-wolf flirted her head like the snap of a whip, breaking the weasel's hold and flinging it high in the air. and, still in the air, the she-wolf's jaws closed on the lean, yellow body, and the weasel knew death between the crunching teeth. the cub experienced another access of affection on the part of his mother. her joy at finding him seemed even greater than his joy at being found. she nozzled him and caressed him and licked the cuts made in him by the weasel's teeth. then, between them, mother and cub, they ate the blood-drinker, and after that went back to the cave and slept. chapter v--the law of meat the cub's development was rapid. he rested for two days, and then ventured forth from the cave again. it was on this adventure that he found the young weasel whose mother he had helped eat, and he saw to it that the young weasel went the way of its mother. but on this trip he did not get lost. when he grew tired, he found his way back to the cave and slept. and every day thereafter found him out and ranging a wider area. he began to get accurate measurement of his strength and his weakness, and to know when to be bold and when to be cautious. he found it expedient to be cautious all the time, except for the rare moments, when, assured of his own intrepidity, he abandoned himself to petty rages and lusts. he was always a little demon of fury when he chanced upon a stray ptarmigan. never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter of the squirrel he had first met on the blasted pine. while the sight of a moose-bird almost invariably put him into the wildest of rages; for he never forgot the peck on the nose he had received from the first of that ilk he encountered. but there were times when even a moose-bird failed to affect him, and those were times when he felt himself to be in danger from some other prowling meat hunter. he never forgot the hawk, and its moving shadow always sent him crouching into the nearest thicket. he no longer sprawled and straddled, and already he was developing the gait of his mother, slinking and furtive, apparently without exertion, yet sliding along with a swiftness that was as deceptive as it was imperceptible. in the matter of meat, his luck had been all in the beginning. the seven ptarmigan chicks and the baby weasel represented the sum of his killings. his desire to kill strengthened with the days, and he cherished hungry ambitions for the squirrel that chattered so volubly and always informed all wild creatures that the wolf-cub was approaching. but as birds flew in the air, squirrels could climb trees, and the cub could only try to crawl unobserved upon the squirrel when it was on the ground. the cub entertained a great respect for his mother. she could get meat, and she never failed to bring him his share. further, she was unafraid of things. it did not occur to him that this fearlessness was founded upon experience and knowledge. its effect on him was that of an impression of power. his mother represented power; and as he grew older he felt this power in the sharper admonishment of her paw; while the reproving nudge of her nose gave place to the slash of her fangs. for this, likewise, he respected his mother. she compelled obedience from him, and the older he grew the shorter grew her temper. famine came again, and the cub with clearer consciousness knew once more the bite of hunger. the she-wolf ran herself thin in the quest for meat. she rarely slept any more in the cave, spending most of her time on the meat-trail, and spending it vainly. this famine was not a long one, but it was severe while it lasted. the cub found no more milk in his mother's breast, nor did he get one mouthful of meat for himself. before, he had hunted in play, for the sheer joyousness of it; now he hunted in deadly earnestness, and found nothing. yet the failure of it accelerated his development. he studied the habits of the squirrel with greater carefulness, and strove with greater craft to steal upon it and surprise it. he studied the wood-mice and tried to dig them out of their burrows; and he learned much about the ways of moose-birds and woodpeckers. and there came a day when the hawk's shadow did not drive him crouching into the bushes. he had grown stronger and wiser, and more confident. also, he was desperate. so he sat on his haunches, conspicuously in an open space, and challenged the hawk down out of the sky. for he knew that there, floating in the blue above him, was meat, the meat his stomach yearned after so insistently. but the hawk refused to come down and give battle, and the cub crawled away into a thicket and whimpered his disappointment and hunger. the famine broke. the she-wolf brought home meat. it was strange meat, different from any she had ever brought before. it was a lynx kitten, partly grown, like the cub, but not so large. and it was all for him. his mother had satisfied her hunger elsewhere; though he did not know that it was the rest of the lynx litter that had gone to satisfy her. nor did he know the desperateness of her deed. he knew only that the velvetfurred kitten was meat, and he ate and waxed happier with every mouthful. a full stomach conduces to inaction, and the cub lay in the cave, sleeping against his mother's side. he was aroused by her snarling. never had he heard her snarl so terribly. possibly in her whole life it was the most terrible snarl she ever gave. there was reason for it, and none knew it better than she. a lynx's lair is not despoiled with impunity. in the full glare of the afternoon light, crouching in the entrance of the cave, the cub saw the lynx-mother. the hair rippled up along his back at the sight. here was fear, and it did not require his instinct to tell him of it. and if sight alone were not sufficient, the cry of rage the intruder gave, beginning with a snarl and rushing abruptly upward into a hoarse screech, was convincing enough in itself. the cub felt the prod of the life that was in him, and stood up and snarled valiantly by his mother's side. but she thrust him ignominiously away and behind her. because of the low-roofed entrance the lynx could not leap in, and when she made a crawling rush of it the she-wolf sprang upon her and pinned her down. the cub saw little of the battle. there was a tremendous snarling and spitting and screeching. the two animals threshed about, the lynx ripping and tearing with her claws and using her teeth as well, while the she-wolf used her teeth alone. once, the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the lynx. he clung on, growling savagely. though he did not know it, by the weight of his body he clogged the action of the leg and thereby saved his mother much damage. a change in the battle crushed him under both their bodies and wrenched loose his hold. the next moment the two mothers separated, and, before they rushed together again, the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge fore-paw that ripped his shoulder open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against the wall. then was added to the uproar the cub's shrill yelp of pain and fright. but the fight lasted so long that he had time to cry himself out and to experience a second burst of courage; and the end of the battle found him again clinging to a hind-leg and furiously growling between his teeth. the lynx was dead. but the she-wolf was very weak and sick. at first she caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder; but the blood she had lost had taken with it her strength, and for all of a day and a night she lay by her dead foe's side, without movement, scarcely breathing. for a week she never left the cave, except for water, and then her movements were slow and painful. at the end of that time the lynx was devoured, while the she-wolf's wounds had healed sufficiently to permit her to take the meat-trail again. the cub's shoulder was stiff and sore, and for some time he limped from the terrible slash he had received. but the world now seemed changed. he went about in it with greater confidence, with a feeling of prowess that had not been his in the days before the battle with the lynx. he had looked upon life in a more ferocious aspect; he had fought; he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe; and he had survived. and because of all this, he carried himself more boldly, with a touch of defiance that was new in him. he was no longer afraid of minor things, and much of his timidity had vanished, though the unknown never ceased to press upon him with its mysteries and terrors, intangible and ever-menacing. he began to accompany his mother on the meat-trail, and he saw much of the killing of meat and began to play his part in it. and in his own dim way he learned the law of meat. there were two kinds of life--his own kind and the other kind. his own kind included his mother and himself. the other kind included all live things that moved. but the other kind was divided. one portion was what his own kind killed and ate. this portion was composed of the non-killers and the small killers. the other portion killed and ate his own kind, or was killed and eaten by his own kind. and out of this classification arose the law. the aim of life was meat. life itself was meat. life lived on life. there were the eaters and the eaten. the law was: eat or be eaten. he did not formulate the law in clear, set terms and moralise about it. he did not even think the law; he merely lived the law without thinking about it at all. he saw the law operating around him on every side. he had eaten the ptarmigan chicks. the hawk had eaten the ptarmigan-mother. the hawk would also have eaten him. later, when he had grown more formidable, he wanted to eat the hawk. he had eaten the lynx kitten. the lynx-mother would have eaten him had she not herself been killed and eaten. and so it went. the law was being lived about him by all live things, and he himself was part and parcel of the law. he was a killer. his only food was meat, live meat, that ran away swiftly before him, or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid in the ground, or faced him and fought with him, or turned the tables and ran after him. had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomised life as a voracious appetite and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and being hunted, eating and being eaten, all in blindness and confusion, with violence and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, ruled over by chance, merciless, planless, endless. but the cub did not think in man-fashion. he did not look at things with wide vision. he was single-purposed, and entertained but one thought or desire at a time. besides the law of meat, there were a myriad other and lesser laws for him to learn and obey. the world was filled with surprise. the stir of the life that was in him, the play of his muscles, was an unending happiness. to run down meat was to experience thrills and elations. his rages and battles were pleasures. terror itself, and the mystery of the unknown, led to his living. and there were easements and satisfactions. to have a full stomach, to doze lazily in the sunshine--such things were remuneration in full for his ardours and toils, while his ardours and tolls were in themselves self-remunerative. they were expressions of life, and life is always happy when it is expressing itself. so the cub had no quarrel with his hostile environment. he was very much alive, very happy, and very proud of himself. part iii chapter i--the makers of fire the cub came upon it suddenly. it was his own fault. he had been careless. he had left the cave and run down to the stream to drink. it might have been that he took no notice because he was heavy with sleep. (he had been out all night on the meat-trail, and had but just then awakened.) and his carelessness might have been due to the familiarity of the trail to the pool. he had travelled it often, and nothing had ever happened on it. he went down past the blasted pine, crossed the open space, and trotted in amongst the trees. then, at the same instant, he saw and smelt. before him, sitting silently on their haunches, were five live things, the like of which he had never seen before. it was his first glimpse of mankind. but at the sight of him the five men did not spring to their feet, nor show their teeth, nor snarl. they did not move, but sat there, silent and ominous. nor did the cub move. every instinct of his nature would have impelled him to dash wildly away, had there not suddenly and for the first time arisen in him another and counter instinct. a great awe descended upon him. he was beaten down to movelessness by an overwhelming sense of his own weakness and littleness. here was mastery and power, something far and away beyond him. the cub had never seen man, yet the instinct concerning man was his. in dim ways he recognised in man the animal that had fought itself to primacy over the other animals of the wild. not alone out of his own eyes, but out of the eyes of all his ancestors was the cub now looking upon man--out of eyes that had circled in the darkness around countless winter camp-fires, that had peered from safe distances and from the hearts of thickets at the strange, two-legged animal that was lord over living things. the spell of the cub's heritage was upon him, the fear and the respect born of the centuries of struggle and the accumulated experience of the generations. the heritage was too compelling for a wolf that was only a cub. had he been full-grown, he would have run away. as it was, he cowered down in a paralysis of fear, already half proffering the submission that his kind had proffered from the first time a wolf came in to sit by man's fire and be made warm. one of the indians arose and walked over to him and stooped above him. the cub cowered closer to the ground. it was the unknown, objectified at last, in concrete flesh and blood, bending over him and reaching down to seize hold of him. his hair bristled involuntarily; his lips writhed back and his little fangs were bared. the hand, poised like doom above him, hesitated, and the man spoke laughing, "_wabam wabisca ip pit tah_." ("look! the white fangs!") the other indians laughed loudly, and urged the man on to pick up the cub. as the hand descended closer and closer, there raged within the cub a battle of the instincts. he experienced two great impulsions--to yield and to fight. the resulting action was a compromise. he did both. he yielded till the hand almost touched him. then he fought, his teeth flashing in a snap that sank them into the hand. the next moment he received a clout alongside the head that knocked him over on his side. then all fight fled out of him. his puppyhood and the instinct of submission took charge of him. he sat up on his haunches and ki-yi'd. but the man whose hand he had bitten was angry. the cub received a clout on the other side of his head. whereupon he sat up and ki-yi'd louder than ever. the four indians laughed more loudly, while even the man who had been bitten began to laugh. they surrounded the cub and laughed at him, while he wailed out his terror and his hurt. in the midst of it, he heard something. the indians heard it too. but the cub knew what it was, and with a last, long wail that had in it more of triumph than grief, he ceased his noise and waited for the coming of his mother, of his ferocious and indomitable mother who fought and killed all things and was never afraid. she was snarling as she ran. she had heard the cry of her cub and was dashing to save him. she bounded in amongst them, her anxious and militant motherhood making her anything but a pretty sight. but to the cub the spectacle of her protective rage was pleasing. he uttered a glad little cry and bounded to meet her, while the man-animals went back hastily several steps. the she-wolf stood over against her cub, facing the men, with bristling hair, a snarl rumbling deep in her throat. her face was distorted and malignant with menace, even the bridge of the nose wrinkling from tip to eyes so prodigious was her snarl. then it was that a cry went up from one of the men. "kiche!" was what he uttered. it was an exclamation of surprise. the cub felt his mother wilting at the sound. "kiche!" the man cried again, this time with sharpness and authority. and then the cub saw his mother, the she-wolf, the fearless one, crouching down till her belly touched the ground, whimpering, wagging her tail, making peace signs. the cub could not understand. he was appalled. the awe of man rushed over him again. his instinct had been true. his mother verified it. she, too, rendered submission to the mananimals. the man who had spoken came over to her. he put his hand upon her head, and she only crouched closer. she did not snap, nor threaten to snap. the other men came up, and surrounded her, and felt her, and pawed her, which actions she made no attempt to resent. they were greatly excited, and made many noises with their mouths. these noises were not indication of danger, the cub decided, as he crouched near his mother still bristling from time to time but doing his best to submit. "it is not strange," an indian was saying. "her father was a wolf. it is true, her mother was a dog; but did not my brother tie her out in the woods all of three nights in the mating season? therefore was the father of kiche a wolf." "it is a year, grey beaver, since she ran away," spoke a second indian. "it is not strange, salmon tongue," grey beaver answered. "it was the time of the famine, and there was no meat for the dogs." "she has lived with the wolves," said a third indian. "so it would seem, three eagles," grey beaver answered, laying his hand on the cub; "and this be the sign of it." the cub snarled a little at the touch of the hand, and the hand flew back to administer a clout. whereupon the cub covered its fangs, and sank down submissively, while the hand, returning, rubbed behind his ears, and up and down his back. "this be the sign of it," grey beaver went on. "it is plain that his mother is kiche. but his father was a wolf. wherefore is there in him little dog and much wolf. his fangs be white, and white fang shall be his name. i have spoken. he is my dog. for was not kiche my brother's dog? and is not my brother dead?" the cub, who had thus received a name in the world, lay and watched. for a time the man-animals continued to make their mouth-noises. then grey beaver took a knife from a sheath that hung around his neck, and went into the thicket and cut a stick. white fang watched him. he notched the stick at each end and in the notches fastened strings of raw-hide. one string he tied around the throat of kiche. then he led her to a small pine, around which he tied the other string. white fang followed and lay down beside her. salmon tongue's hand reached out to him and rolled him over on his back. kiche looked on anxiously. white fang felt fear mounting in him again. he could not quite suppress a snarl, but he made no offer to snap. the hand, with fingers crooked and spread apart, rubbed his stomach in a playful way and rolled him from side to side. it was ridiculous and ungainly, lying there on his back with legs sprawling in the air. besides, it was a position of such utter helplessness that white fang's whole nature revolted against it. he could do nothing to defend himself. if this mananimal intended harm, white fang knew that he could not escape it. how could he spring away with his four legs in the air above him? yet submission made him master his fear, and he only growled softly. this growl he could not suppress; nor did the man-animal resent it by giving him a blow on the head. and furthermore, such was the strangeness of it, white fang experienced an unaccountable sensation of pleasure as the hand rubbed back and forth. when he was rolled on his side he ceased to growl, when the fingers pressed and prodded at the base of his ears the pleasurable sensation increased; and when, with a final rub and scratch, the man left him alone and went away, all fear had died out of white fang. he was to know fear many times in his dealing with man; yet it was a token of the fearless companionship with man that was ultimately to be his. after a time, white fang heard strange noises approaching. he was quick in his classification, for he knew them at once for man-animal noises. a few minutes later the remainder of the tribe, strung out as it was on the march, trailed in. there were more men and many women and children, forty souls of them, and all heavily burdened with camp equipage and outfit. also there were many dogs; and these, with the exception of the part-grown puppies, were likewise burdened with camp outfit. on their backs, in bags that fastened tightly around underneath, the dogs carried from twenty to thirty pounds of weight. white fang had never seen dogs before, but at sight of them he felt that they were his own kind, only somehow different. but they displayed little difference from the wolf when they discovered the cub and his mother. there was a rush. white fang bristled and snarled and snapped in the face of the open-mouthed oncoming wave of dogs, and went down and under them, feeling the sharp slash of teeth in his body, himself biting and tearing at the legs and bellies above him. there was a great uproar. he could hear the snarl of kiche as she fought for him; and he could hear the cries of the man-animals, the sound of clubs striking upon bodies, and the yelps of pain from the dogs so struck. only a few seconds elapsed before he was on his feet again. he could now see the man-animals driving back the dogs with clubs and stones, defending him, saving him from the savage teeth of his kind that somehow was not his kind. and though there was no reason in his brain for a clear conception of so abstract a thing as justice, nevertheless, in his own way, he felt the justice of the man-animals, and he knew them for what they were--makers of law and executors of law. also, he appreciated the power with which they administered the law. unlike any animals he had ever encountered, they did not bite nor claw. they enforced their live strength with the power of dead things. dead things did their bidding. thus, sticks and stones, directed by these strange creatures, leaped through the air like living things, inflicting grievous hurts upon the dogs. to his mind this was power unusual, power inconceivable and beyond the natural, power that was godlike. white fang, in the very nature of him, could never know anything about gods; at the best he could know only things that were beyond knowing--but the wonder and awe that he had of these man-animals in ways resembled what would be the wonder and awe of man at sight of some celestial creature, on a mountain top, hurling thunderbolts from either hand at an astonished world. the last dog had been driven back. the hubbub died down. and white fang licked his hurts and meditated upon this, his first taste of pack-cruelty and his introduction to the pack. he had never dreamed that his own kind consisted of more than one eye, his mother, and himself. they had constituted a kind apart, and here, abruptly, he had discovered many more creatures apparently of his own kind. and there was a subconscious resentment that these, his kind, at first sight had pitched upon him and tried to destroy him. in the same way he resented his mother being tied with a stick, even though it was done by the superior man-animals. it savoured of the trap, of bondage. yet of the trap and of bondage he knew nothing. freedom to roam and run and lie down at will, had been his heritage; and here it was being infringed upon. his mother's movements were restricted to the length of a stick, and by the length of that same stick was he restricted, for he had not yet got beyond the need of his mother's side. he did not like it. nor did he like it when the man-animals arose and went on with their march; for a tiny man-animal took the other end of the stick and led kiche captive behind him, and behind kiche followed white fang, greatly perturbed and worried by this new adventure he had entered upon. they went down the valley of the stream, far beyond white fang's widest ranging, until they came to the end of the valley, where the stream ran into the mackenzie river. here, where canoes were cached on poles high in the air and where stood fish-racks for the drying of fish, camp was made; and white fang looked on with wondering eyes. the superiority of these man-animals increased with every moment. there was their mastery over all these sharp-fanged dogs. it breathed of power. but greater than that, to the wolf-cub, was their mastery over things not alive; their capacity to communicate motion to unmoving things; their capacity to change the very face of the world. it was this last that especially affected him. the elevation of frames of poles caught his eye; yet this in itself was not so remarkable, being done by the same creatures that flung sticks and stones to great distances. but when the frames of poles were made into tepees by being covered with cloth and skins, white fang was astounded. it was the colossal bulk of them that impressed him. they arose around him, on every side, like some monstrous quick-growing form of life. they occupied nearly the whole circumference of his field of vision. he was afraid of them. they loomed ominously above him; and when the breeze stirred them into huge movements, he cowered down in fear, keeping his eyes warily upon them, and prepared to spring away if they attempted to precipitate themselves upon him. but in a short while his fear of the tepees passed away. he saw the women and children passing in and out of them without harm, and he saw the dogs trying often to get into them, and being driven away with sharp words and flying stones. after a time, he left kiche's side and crawled cautiously toward the wall of the nearest tepee. it was the curiosity of growth that urged him on--the necessity of learning and living and doing that brings experience. the last few inches to the wall of the tepee were crawled with painful slowness and precaution. the day's events had prepared him for the unknown to manifest itself in most stupendous and unthinkable ways. at last his nose touched the canvas. he waited. nothing happened. then he smelled the strange fabric, saturated with the man-smell. he closed on the canvas with his teeth and gave a gentle tug. nothing happened, though the adjacent portions of the tepee moved. he tugged harder. there was a greater movement. it was delightful. he tugged still harder, and repeatedly, until the whole tepee was in motion. then the sharp cry of a squaw inside sent him scampering back to kiche. but after that he was afraid no more of the looming bulks of the tepees. a moment later he was straying away again from his mother. her stick was tied to a peg in the ground and she could not follow him. a part-grown puppy, somewhat larger and older than he, came toward him slowly, with ostentatious and belligerent importance. the puppy's name, as white fang was afterward to hear him called, was lip-lip. he had had experience in puppy fights and was already something of a bully. lip-lip was white fang's own kind, and, being only a puppy, did not seem dangerous; so white fang prepared to meet him in a friendly spirit. but when the stranger's walk became stiff-legged and his lips lifted clear of his teeth, white fang stiffened too, and answered with lifted lips. they half circled about each other, tentatively, snarling and bristling. this lasted several minutes, and white fang was beginning to enjoy it, as a sort of game. but suddenly, with remarkable swiftness, lip-lip leaped in, delivering a slashing snap, and leaped away again. the snap had taken effect on the shoulder that had been hurt by the lynx and that was still sore deep down near the bone. the surprise and hurt of it brought a yelp out of white fang; but the next moment, in a rush of anger, he was upon lip-lip and snapping viciously. but lip-lip had lived his life in camp and had fought many puppy fights. three times, four times, and half a dozen times, his sharp little teeth scored on the newcomer, until white fang, yelping shamelessly, fled to the protection of his mother. it was the first of the many fights he was to have with lip-lip, for they were enemies from the start, born so, with natures destined perpetually to clash. kiche licked white fang soothingly with her tongue, and tried to prevail upon him to remain with her. but his curiosity was rampant, and several minutes later he was venturing forth on a new quest. he came upon one of the man-animals, grey beaver, who was squatting on his hams and doing something with sticks and dry moss spread before him on the ground. white fang came near to him and watched. grey beaver made mouth-noises which white fang interpreted as not hostile, so he came still nearer. women and children were carrying more sticks and branches to grey beaver. it was evidently an affair of moment. white fang came in until he touched grey beaver's knee, so curious was he, and already forgetful that this was a terrible man-animal. suddenly he saw a strange thing like mist beginning to arise from the sticks and moss beneath grey beaver's hands. then, amongst the sticks themselves, appeared a live thing, twisting and turning, of a colour like the colour of the sun in the sky. white fang knew nothing about fire. it drew him as the light, in the mouth of the cave had drawn him in his early puppyhood. he crawled the several steps toward the flame. he heard grey beaver chuckle above him, and he knew the sound was not hostile. then his nose touched the flame, and at the same instant his little tongue went out to it. for a moment he was paralysed. the unknown, lurking in the midst of the sticks and moss, was savagely clutching him by the nose. he scrambled backward, bursting out in an astonished explosion of ki-yi's. at the sound, kiche leaped snarling to the end of her stick, and there raged terribly because she could not come to his aid. but grey beaver laughed loudly, and slapped his thighs, and told the happening to all the rest of the camp, till everybody was laughing uproariously. but white fang sat on his haunches and ki-yi'd and ki-yi'd, a forlorn and pitiable little figure in the midst of the man-animals. it was the worst hurt he had ever known. both nose and tongue had been scorched by the live thing, sun-coloured, that had grown up under grey beaver's hands. he cried and cried interminably, and every fresh wail was greeted by bursts of laughter on the part of the man-animals. he tried to soothe his nose with his tongue, but the tongue was burnt too, and the two hurts coming together produced greater hurt; whereupon he cried more hopelessly and helplessly than ever. and then shame came to him. he knew laughter and the meaning of it. it is not given us to know how some animals know laughter, and know when they are being laughed at; but it was this same way that white fang knew it. and he felt shame that the man-animals should be laughing at him. he turned and fled away, not from the hurt of the fire, but from the laughter that sank even deeper, and hurt in the spirit of him. and he fled to kiche, raging at the end of her stick like an animal gone mad--to kiche, the one creature in the world who was not laughing at him. twilight drew down and night came on, and white fang lay by his mother's side. his nose and tongue still hurt, but he was perplexed by a greater trouble. he was homesick. he felt a vacancy in him, a need for the hush and quietude of the stream and the cave in the cliff. life had become too populous. there were so many of the man-animals, men, women, and children, all making noises and irritations. and there were the dogs, ever squabbling and bickering, bursting into uproars and creating confusions. the restful loneliness of the only life he had known was gone. here the very air was palpitant with life. it hummed and buzzed unceasingly. continually changing its intensity and abruptly variant in pitch, it impinged on his nerves and senses, made him nervous and restless and worried him with a perpetual imminence of happening. he watched the man-animals coming and going and moving about the camp. in fashion distantly resembling the way men look upon the gods they create, so looked white fang upon the man-animals before him. they were superior creatures, of a verity, gods. to his dim comprehension they were as much wonder-workers as gods are to men. they were creatures of mastery, possessing all manner of unknown and impossible potencies, overlords of the alive and the not alive--making obey that which moved, imparting movement to that which did not move, and making life, sun-coloured and biting life, to grow out of dead moss and wood. they were fire-makers! they were gods. chapter ii--the bondage the days were thronged with experience for white fang. during the time that kiche was tied by the stick, he ran about over all the camp, inquiring, investigating, learning. he quickly came to know much of the ways of the man-animals, but familiarity did not breed contempt. the more he came to know them, the more they vindicated their superiority, the more they displayed their mysterious powers, the greater loomed their god-likeness. to man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods overthrown and his altars crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild dog that have come in to crouch at man's feet, this grief has never come. unlike man, whose gods are of the unseen and the overguessed, vapours and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths of desired goodness and power, intangible out-croppings of self into the realm of spirit--unlike man, the wolf and the wild dog that have come in to the fire find their gods in the living flesh, solid to the touch, occupying earth-space and requiring time for the accomplishment of their ends and their existence. no effort of faith is necessary to believe in such a god; no effort of will can possibly induce disbelief in such a god. there is no getting away from it. there it stands, on its two hind-legs, club in hand, immensely potential, passionate and wrathful and loving, god and mystery and power all wrapped up and around by flesh that bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat like any flesh. and so it was with white fang. the man-animals were gods unmistakable and unescapable. as his mother, kiche, had rendered her allegiance to them at the first cry of her name, so he was beginning to render his allegiance. he gave them the trail as a privilege indubitably theirs. when they walked, he got out of their way. when they called, he came. when they threatened, he cowered down. when they commanded him to go, he went away hurriedly. for behind any wish of theirs was power to enforce that wish, power that hurt, power that expressed itself in clouts and clubs, in flying stones and stinging lashes of whips. he belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them. his actions were theirs to command. his body was theirs to maul, to stamp upon, to tolerate. such was the lesson that was quickly borne in upon him. it came hard, going as it did, counter to much that was strong and dominant in his own nature; and, while he disliked it in the learning of it, unknown to himself he was learning to like it. it was a placing of his destiny in another's hands, a shifting of the responsibilities of existence. this in itself was compensation, for it is always easier to lean upon another than to stand alone. but it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, body and soul, to the man-animals. he could not immediately forego his wild heritage and his memories of the wild. there were days when he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something calling him far and away. and always he returned, restless and uncomfortable, to whimper softly and wistfully at kiche's side and to lick her face with eager, questioning tongue. white fang learned rapidly the ways of the camp. he knew the injustice and greediness of the older dogs when meat or fish was thrown out to be eaten. he came to know that men were more just, children more cruel, and women more kindly and more likely to toss him a bit of meat or bone. and after two or three painful adventures with the mothers of part-grown puppies, he came into the knowledge that it was always good policy to let such mothers alone, to keep away from them as far as possible, and to avoid them when he saw them coming. but the bane of his life was lip-lip. larger, older, and stronger, liplip had selected white fang for his special object of persecution. while fang fought willingly enough, but he was outclassed. his enemy was too big. lip-lip became a nightmare to him. whenever he ventured away from his mother, the bully was sure to appear, trailing at his heels, snarling at him, picking upon him, and watchful of an opportunity, when no mananimal was near, to spring upon him and force a fight. as lip-lip invariably won, he enjoyed it hugely. it became his chief delight in life, as it became white fang's chief torment. but the effect upon white fang was not to cow him. though he suffered most of the damage and was always defeated, his spirit remained unsubdued. yet a bad effect was produced. he became malignant and morose. his temper had been savage by birth, but it became more savage under this unending persecution. the genial, playful, puppyish side of him found little expression. he never played and gambolled about with the other puppies of the camp. lip-lip would not permit it. the moment white fang appeared near them, lip-lip was upon him, bullying and hectoring him, or fighting with him until he had driven him away. the effect of all this was to rob white fang of much of his puppyhood and to make him in his comportment older than his age. denied the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself and developed his mental processes. he became cunning; he had idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery. prevented from obtaining his share of meat and fish when a general feed was given to the camp-dogs, he became a clever thief. he had to forage for himself, and he foraged well, though he was oft-times a plague to the squaws in consequence. he learned to sneak about camp, to be crafty, to know what was going on everywhere, to see and to hear everything and to reason accordingly, and successfully to devise ways and means of avoiding his implacable persecutor. it was early in the days of his persecution that he played his first really big crafty game and got therefrom his first taste of revenge. as kiche, when with the wolves, had lured out to destruction dogs from the camps of men, so white fang, in manner somewhat similar, lured lip-lip into kiche's avenging jaws. retreating before lip-lip, white fang made an indirect flight that led in and out and around the various tepees of the camp. he was a good runner, swifter than any puppy of his size, and swifter than lip-lip. but he did not run his best in this chase. he barely held his own, one leap ahead of his pursuer. lip-lip, excited by the chase and by the persistent nearness of his victim, forgot caution and locality. when he remembered locality, it was too late. dashing at top speed around a tepee, he ran full tilt into kiche lying at the end of her stick. he gave one yelp of consternation, and then her punishing jaws closed upon him. she was tied, but he could not get away from her easily. she rolled him off his legs so that he could not run, while she repeatedly ripped and slashed him with her fangs. when at last he succeeded in rolling clear of her, he crawled to his feet, badly dishevelled, hurt both in body and in spirit. his hair was standing out all over him in tufts where her teeth had mauled. he stood where he had arisen, opened his mouth, and broke out the long, heart-broken puppy wail. but even this he was not allowed to complete. in the middle of it, white fang, rushing in, sank his teeth into lip-lip's hind leg. there was no fight left in lip-lip, and he ran away shamelessly, his victim hot on his heels and worrying him all the way back to his own tepee. here the squaws came to his aid, and white fang, transformed into a raging demon, was finally driven off only by a fusillade of stones. came the day when grey beaver, deciding that the liability of her running away was past, released kiche. white fang was delighted with his mother's freedom. he accompanied her joyfully about the camp; and, so long as he remained close by her side, lip-lip kept a respectful distance. white fang even bristled up to him and walked stiff-legged, but lip-lip ignored the challenge. he was no fool himself, and whatever vengeance he desired to wreak, he could wait until he caught white fang alone. later on that day, kiche and white fang strayed into the edge of the woods next to the camp. he had led his mother there, step by step, and now when she stopped, he tried to inveigle her farther. the stream, the lair, and the quiet woods were calling to him, and he wanted her to come. he ran on a few steps, stopped, and looked back. she had not moved. he whined pleadingly, and scurried playfully in and out of the underbrush. he ran back to her, licked her face, and ran on again. and still she did not move. he stopped and regarded her, all of an intentness and eagerness, physically expressed, that slowly faded out of him as she turned her head and gazed back at the camp. there was something calling to him out there in the open. his mother heard it too. but she heard also that other and louder call, the call of the fire and of man--the call which has been given alone of all animals to the wolf to answer, to the wolf and the wild-dog, who are brothers. kiche turned and slowly trotted back toward camp. stronger than the physical restraint of the stick was the clutch of the camp upon her. unseen and occultly, the gods still gripped with their power and would not let her go. white fang sat down in the shadow of a birch and whimpered softly. there was a strong smell of pine, and subtle wood fragrances filled the air, reminding him of his old life of freedom before the days of his bondage. but he was still only a part-grown puppy, and stronger than the call either of man or of the wild was the call of his mother. all the hours of his short life he had depended upon her. the time was yet to come for independence. so he arose and trotted forlornly back to camp, pausing once, and twice, to sit down and whimper and to listen to the call that still sounded in the depths of the forest. in the wild the time of a mother with her young is short; but under the dominion of man it is sometimes even shorter. thus it was with white fang. grey beaver was in the debt of three eagles. three eagles was going away on a trip up the mackenzie to the great slave lake. a strip of scarlet cloth, a bearskin, twenty cartridges, and kiche, went to pay the debt. white fang saw his mother taken aboard three eagles' canoe, and tried to follow her. a blow from three eagles knocked him backward to the land. the canoe shoved off. he sprang into the water and swam after it, deaf to the sharp cries of grey beaver to return. even a mananimal, a god, white fang ignored, such was the terror he was in of losing his mother. but gods are accustomed to being obeyed, and grey beaver wrathfully launched a canoe in pursuit. when he overtook white fang, he reached down and by the nape of the neck lifted him clear of the water. he did not deposit him at once in the bottom of the canoe. holding him suspended with one hand, with the other hand he proceeded to give him a beating. and it _was_ a beating. his hand was heavy. every blow was shrewd to hurt; and he delivered a multitude of blows. impelled by the blows that rained upon him, now from this side, now from that, white fang swung back and forth like an erratic and jerky pendulum. varying were the emotions that surged through him. at first, he had known surprise. then came a momentary fear, when he yelped several times to the impact of the hand. but this was quickly followed by anger. his free nature asserted itself, and he showed his teeth and snarled fearlessly in the face of the wrathful god. this but served to make the god more wrathful. the blows came faster, heavier, more shrewd to hurt. grey beaver continued to beat, white fang continued to snarl. but this could not last for ever. one or the other must give over, and that one was white fang. fear surged through him again. for the first time he was being really man-handled. the occasional blows of sticks and stones he had previously experienced were as caresses compared with this. he broke down and began to cry and yelp. for a time each blow brought a yelp from him; but fear passed into terror, until finally his yelps were voiced in unbroken succession, unconnected with the rhythm of the punishment. at last grey beaver withheld his hand. white fang, hanging limply, continued to cry. this seemed to satisfy his master, who flung him down roughly in the bottom of the canoe. in the meantime the canoe had drifted down the stream. grey beaver picked up the paddle. white fang was in his way. he spurned him savagely with his foot. in that moment white fang's free nature flashed forth again, and he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot. the beating that had gone before was as nothing compared with the beating he now received. grey beaver's wrath was terrible; likewise was white fang's fright. not only the hand, but the hard wooden paddle was used upon him; and he was bruised and sore in all his small body when he was again flung down in the canoe. again, and this time with purpose, did grey beaver kick him. white fang did not repeat his attack on the foot. he had learned another lesson of his bondage. never, no matter what the circumstance, must he dare to bite the god who was lord and master over him; the body of the lord and master was sacred, not to be defiled by the teeth of such as he. that was evidently the crime of crimes, the one offence there was no condoning nor overlooking. when the canoe touched the shore, white fang lay whimpering and motionless, waiting the will of grey beaver. it was grey beaver's will that he should go ashore, for ashore he was flung, striking heavily on his side and hurting his bruises afresh. he crawled tremblingly to his feet and stood whimpering. lip-lip, who had watched the whole proceeding from the bank, now rushed upon him, knocking him over and sinking his teeth into him. white fang was too helpless to defend himself, and it would have gone hard with him had not grey beaver's foot shot out, lifting lip-lip into the air with its violence so that he smashed down to earth a dozen feet away. this was the man-animal's justice; and even then, in his own pitiable plight, white fang experienced a little grateful thrill. at grey beaver's heels he limped obediently through the village to the tepee. and so it came that white fang learned that the right to punish was something the gods reserved for themselves and denied to the lesser creatures under them. that night, when all was still, white fang remembered his mother and sorrowed for her. he sorrowed too loudly and woke up grey beaver, who beat him. after that he mourned gently when the gods were around. but sometimes, straying off to the edge of the woods by himself, he gave vent to his grief, and cried it out with loud whimperings and wailings. it was during this period that he might have harkened to the memories of the lair and the stream and run back to the wild. but the memory of his mother held him. as the hunting man-animals went out and came back, so she would come back to the village some time. so he remained in his bondage waiting for her. but it was not altogether an unhappy bondage. there was much to interest him. something was always happening. there was no end to the strange things these gods did, and he was always curious to see. besides, he was learning how to get along with grey beaver. obedience, rigid, undeviating obedience, was what was exacted of him; and in return he escaped beatings and his existence was tolerated. nay, grey beaver himself sometimes tossed him a piece of meat, and defended him against the other dogs in the eating of it. and such a piece of meat was of value. it was worth more, in some strange way, then a dozen pieces of meat from the hand of a squaw. grey beaver never petted nor caressed. perhaps it was the weight of his hand, perhaps his justice, perhaps the sheer power of him, and perhaps it was all these things that influenced white fang; for a certain tie of attachment was forming between him and his surly lord. insidiously, and by remote ways, as well as by the power of stick and stone and clout of hand, were the shackles of white fang's bondage being riveted upon him. the qualities in his kind that in the beginning made it possible for them to come in to the fires of men, were qualities capable of development. they were developing in him, and the camp-life, replete with misery as it was, was secretly endearing itself to him all the time. but white fang was unaware of it. he knew only grief for the loss of kiche, hope for her return, and a hungry yearning for the free life that had been his. chapter iii--the outcast lip-lip continued so to darken his days that white fang became wickeder and more ferocious than it was his natural right to be. savageness was a part of his make-up, but the savageness thus developed exceeded his makeup. he acquired a reputation for wickedness amongst the man-animals themselves. wherever there was trouble and uproar in camp, fighting and squabbling or the outcry of a squaw over a bit of stolen meat, they were sure to find white fang mixed up in it and usually at the bottom of it. they did not bother to look after the causes of his conduct. they saw only the effects, and the effects were bad. he was a sneak and a thief, a mischief-maker, a fomenter of trouble; and irate squaws told him to his face, the while he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any quick-flung missile, that he was a wolf and worthless and bound to come to an evil end. he found himself an outcast in the midst of the populous camp. all the young dogs followed lip-lip's lead. there was a difference between white fang and them. perhaps they sensed his wild-wood breed, and instinctively felt for him the enmity that the domestic dog feels for the wolf. but be that as it may, they joined with lip-lip in the persecution. and, once declared against him, they found good reason to continue declared against him. one and all, from time to time, they felt his teeth; and to his credit, he gave more than he received. many of them he could whip in single fight; but single fight was denied him. the beginning of such a fight was a signal for all the young dogs in camp to come running and pitch upon him. out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him--and how, on a single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest space of time. to keep one's feet in the midst of the hostile mass meant life, and this he learnt well. he became cat-like in his ability to stay on his feet. even grown dogs might hurtle him backward or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies; and backward or sideways he would go, in the air or sliding on the ground, but always with his legs under him and his feet downward to the mother earth. when dogs fight, there are usually preliminaries to the actual combat--snarlings and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. but white fang learned to omit these preliminaries. delay meant the coming against him of all the young dogs. he must do his work quickly and get away. so he learnt to give no warning of his intention. he rushed in and snapped and slashed on the instant, without notice, before his foe could prepare to meet him. thus he learned how to inflict quick and severe damage. also he learned the value of surprise. a dog, taken off its guard, its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped in ribbons before it knew what was happening, was a dog half whipped. furthermore, it was remarkably easy to overthrow a dog taken by surprise; while a dog, thus overthrown, invariably exposed for a moment the soft underside of its neck--the vulnerable point at which to strike for its life. white fang knew this point. it was a knowledge bequeathed to him directly from the hunting generation of wolves. so it was that white fang's method when he took the offensive, was: first to find a young dog alone; second, to surprise it and knock it off its feet; and third, to drive in with his teeth at the soft throat. being but partly grown his jaws had not yet become large enough nor strong enough to make his throat-attack deadly; but many a young dog went around camp with a lacerated throat in token of white fang's intention. and one day, catching one of his enemies alone on the edge of the woods, he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing him and attacking the throat, to cut the great vein and let out the life. there was a great row that night. he had been observed, the news had been carried to the dead dog's master, the squaws remembered all the instances of stolen meat, and grey beaver was beset by many angry voices. but he resolutely held the door of his tepee, inside which he had placed the culprit, and refused to permit the vengeance for which his tribespeople clamoured. white fang became hated by man and dog. during this period of his development he never knew a moment's security. the tooth of every dog was against him, the hand of every man. he was greeted with snarls by his kind, with curses and stones by his gods. he lived tensely. he was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary of being attacked, with an eye for sudden and unexpected missiles, prepared to act precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a flash of teeth, or to leap away with a menacing snarl. as for snarling he could snarl more terribly than any dog, young or old, in camp. the intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, and judgment is required to know when it should be used. white fang knew how to make it and when to make it. into his snarl he incorporated all that was vicious, malignant, and horrible. with nose serrulated by continuous spasms, hair bristling in recurrent waves, tongue whipping out like a red snake and whipping back again, ears flattened down, eyes gleaming hatred, lips wrinkled back, and fangs exposed and dripping, he could compel a pause on the part of almost any assailant. a temporary pause, when taken off his guard, gave him the vital moment in which to think and determine his action. but often a pause so gained lengthened out until it evolved into a complete cessation from the attack. and before more than one of the grown dogs white fang's snarl enabled him to beat an honourable retreat. an outcast himself from the pack of the part-grown dogs, his sanguinary methods and remarkable efficiency made the pack pay for its persecution of him. not permitted himself to run with the pack, the curious state of affairs obtained that no member of the pack could run outside the pack. white fang would not permit it. what of his bushwhacking and waylaying tactics, the young dogs were afraid to run by themselves. with the exception of lip-lip, they were compelled to hunch together for mutual protection against the terrible enemy they had made. a puppy alone by the river bank meant a puppy dead or a puppy that aroused the camp with its shrill pain and terror as it fled back from the wolf-cub that had waylaid it. but white fang's reprisals did not cease, even when the young dogs had learned thoroughly that they must stay together. he attacked them when he caught them alone, and they attacked him when they were bunched. the sight of him was sufficient to start them rushing after him, at which times his swiftness usually carried him into safety. but woe the dog that outran his fellows in such pursuit! white fang had learned to turn suddenly upon the pursuer that was ahead of the pack and thoroughly to rip him up before the pack could arrive. this occurred with great frequency, for, once in full cry, the dogs were prone to forget themselves in the excitement of the chase, while white fang never forgot himself. stealing backward glances as he ran, he was always ready to whirl around and down the overzealous pursuer that outran his fellows. young dogs are bound to play, and out of the exigencies of the situation they realised their play in this mimic warfare. thus it was that the hunt of white fang became their chief game--a deadly game, withal, and at all times a serious game. he, on the other hand, being the fastest-footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. during the period that he waited vainly for his mother to come back, he led the pack many a wild chase through the adjacent woods. but the pack invariably lost him. its noise and outcry warned him of its presence, while he ran alone, velvetfooted, silently, a moving shadow among the trees after the manner of his father and mother before him. further he was more directly connected with the wild than they; and he knew more of its secrets and stratagems. a favourite trick of his was to lose his trail in running water and then lie quietly in a near-by thicket while their baffled cries arose around him. hated by his kind and by mankind, indomitable, perpetually warred upon and himself waging perpetual war, his development was rapid and one-sided. this was no soil for kindliness and affection to blossom in. of such things he had not the faintest glimmering. the code he learned was to obey the strong and to oppress the weak. grey beaver was a god, and strong. therefore white fang obeyed him. but the dog younger or smaller than himself was weak, a thing to be destroyed. his development was in the direction of power. in order to face the constant danger of hurt and even of destruction, his predatory and protective faculties were unduly developed. he became quicker of movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, more enduring, more cruel, more ferocious, and more intelligent. he had to become all these things, else he would not have held his own nor survive the hostile environment in which he found himself. chapter iv--the trail of the gods in the fall of the year, when the days were shortening and the bite of the frost was coming into the air, white fang got his chance for liberty. for several days there had been a great hubbub in the village. the summer camp was being dismantled, and the tribe, bag and baggage, was preparing to go off to the fall hunting. white fang watched it all with eager eyes, and when the tepees began to come down and the canoes were loading at the bank, he understood. already the canoes were departing, and some had disappeared down the river. quite deliberately he determined to stay behind. he waited his opportunity to slink out of camp to the woods. here, in the running stream where ice was beginning to form, he hid his trail. then he crawled into the heart of a dense thicket and waited. the time passed by, and he slept intermittently for hours. then he was aroused by grey beaver's voice calling him by name. there were other voices. white fang could hear grey beaver's squaw taking part in the search, and mit-sah, who was grey beaver's son. white fang trembled with fear, and though the impulse came to crawl out of his hiding-place, he resisted it. after a time the voices died away, and some time after that he crept out to enjoy the success of his undertaking. darkness was coming on, and for a while he played about among the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. then, and quite suddenly, he became aware of loneliness. he sat down to consider, listening to the silence of the forest and perturbed by it. that nothing moved nor sounded, seemed ominous. he felt the lurking of danger, unseen and unguessed. he was suspicious of the looming bulks of the trees and of the dark shadows that might conceal all manner of perilous things. then it was cold. here was no warm side of a tepee against which to snuggle. the frost was in his feet, and he kept lifting first one forefoot and then the other. he curved his bushy tail around to cover them, and at the same time he saw a vision. there was nothing strange about it. upon his inward sight was impressed a succession of memory-pictures. he saw the camp again, the tepees, and the blaze of the fires. he heard the shrill voices of the women, the gruff basses of the men, and the snarling of the dogs. he was hungry, and he remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been thrown him. here was no meat, nothing but a threatening and inedible silence. his bondage had softened him. irresponsibility had weakened him. he had forgotten how to shift for himself. the night yawned about him. his senses, accustomed to the hum and bustle of the camp, used to the continuous impact of sights and sounds, were now left idle. there was nothing to do, nothing to see nor hear. they strained to catch some interruption of the silence and immobility of nature. they were appalled by inaction and by the feel of something terrible impending. he gave a great start of fright. a colossal and formless something was rushing across the field of his vision. it was a tree-shadow flung by the moon, from whose face the clouds had been brushed away. reassured, he whimpered softly; then he suppressed the whimper for fear that it might attract the attention of the lurking dangers. a tree, contracting in the cool of the night, made a loud noise. it was directly above him. he yelped in his fright. a panic seized him, and he ran madly toward the village. he knew an overpowering desire for the protection and companionship of man. in his nostrils was the smell of the camp-smoke. in his ears the camp-sounds and cries were ringing loud. he passed out of the forest and into the moonlit open where were no shadows nor darknesses. but no village greeted his eyes. he had forgotten. the village had gone away. his wild flight ceased abruptly. there was no place to which to flee. he slunk forlornly through the deserted camp, smelling the rubbish-heaps and the discarded rags and tags of the gods. he would have been glad for the rattle of stones about him, flung by an angry squaw, glad for the hand of grey beaver descending upon him in wrath; while he would have welcomed with delight lip-lip and the whole snarling, cowardly pack. he came to where grey beaver's tepee had stood. in the centre of the space it had occupied, he sat down. he pointed his nose at the moon. his throat was afflicted by rigid spasms, his mouth opened, and in a heartbroken cry bubbled up his loneliness and fear, his grief for kiche, all his past sorrows and miseries as well as his apprehension of sufferings and dangers to come. it was the long wolf-howl, full-throated and mournful, the first howl he had ever uttered. the coming of daylight dispelled his fears but increased his loneliness. the naked earth, which so shortly before had been so populous, thrust his loneliness more forcibly upon him. it did not take him long to make up his mind. he plunged into the forest and followed the river bank down the stream. all day he ran. he did not rest. he seemed made to run on forever. his iron-like body ignored fatigue. and even after fatigue came, his heritage of endurance braced him to endless endeavour and enabled him to drive his complaining body onward. where the river swung in against precipitous bluffs, he climbed the high mountains behind. rivers and streams that entered the main river he forded or swam. often he took to the rim-ice that was beginning to form, and more than once he crashed through and struggled for life in the icy current. always he was on the lookout for the trail of the gods where it might leave the river and proceed inland. white fang was intelligent beyond the average of his kind; yet his mental vision was not wide enough to embrace the other bank of the mackenzie. what if the trail of the gods led out on that side? it never entered his head. later on, when he had travelled more and grown older and wiser and come to know more of trails and rivers, it might be that he could grasp and apprehend such a possibility. but that mental power was yet in the future. just now he ran blindly, his own bank of the mackenzie alone entering into his calculations. all night he ran, blundering in the darkness into mishaps and obstacles that delayed but did not daunt. by the middle of the second day he had been running continuously for thirty hours, and the iron of his flesh was giving out. it was the endurance of his mind that kept him going. he had not eaten in forty hours, and he was weak with hunger. the repeated drenchings in the icy water had likewise had their effect on him. his handsome coat was draggled. the broad pads of his feet were bruised and bleeding. he had begun to limp, and this limp increased with the hours. to make it worse, the light of the sky was obscured and snow began to fall--a raw, moist, melting, clinging snow, slippery under foot, that hid from him the landscape he traversed, and that covered over the inequalities of the ground so that the way of his feet was more difficult and painful. grey beaver had intended camping that night on the far bank of the mackenzie, for it was in that direction that the hunting lay. but on the near bank, shortly before dark, a moose coming down to drink, had been espied by kloo-kooch, who was grey beaver's squaw. now, had not the moose come down to drink, had not mit-sah been steering out of the course because of the snow, had not kloo-kooch sighted the moose, and had not grey beaver killed it with a lucky shot from his rifle, all subsequent things would have happened differently. grey beaver would not have camped on the near side of the mackenzie, and white fang would have passed by and gone on, either to die or to find his way to his wild brothers and become one of them--a wolf to the end of his days. night had fallen. the snow was flying more thickly, and white fang, whimpering softly to himself as he stumbled and limped along, came upon a fresh trail in the snow. so fresh was it that he knew it immediately for what it was. whining with eagerness, he followed back from the river bank and in among the trees. the camp-sounds came to his ears. he saw the blaze of the fire, kloo-kooch cooking, and grey beaver squatting on his hams and mumbling a chunk of raw tallow. there was fresh meat in camp! white fang expected a beating. he crouched and bristled a little at the thought of it. then he went forward again. he feared and disliked the beating he knew to be waiting for him. but he knew, further, that the comfort of the fire would be his, the protection of the gods, the companionship of the dogs--the last, a companionship of enmity, but none the less a companionship and satisfying to his gregarious needs. he came cringing and crawling into the firelight. grey beaver saw him, and stopped munching the tallow. white fang crawled slowly, cringing and grovelling in the abjectness of his abasement and submission. he crawled straight toward grey beaver, every inch of his progress becoming slower and more painful. at last he lay at the master's feet, into whose possession he now surrendered himself, voluntarily, body and soul. of his own choice, he came in to sit by man's fire and to be ruled by him. white fang trembled, waiting for the punishment to fall upon him. there was a movement of the hand above him. he cringed involuntarily under the expected blow. it did not fall. he stole a glance upward. grey beaver was breaking the lump of tallow in half! grey beaver was offering him one piece of the tallow! very gently and somewhat suspiciously, he first smelled the tallow and then proceeded to eat it. grey beaver ordered meat to be brought to him, and guarded him from the other dogs while he ate. after that, grateful and content, white fang lay at grey beaver's feet, gazing at the fire that warmed him, blinking and dozing, secure in the knowledge that the morrow would find him, not wandering forlorn through bleak forest-stretches, but in the camp of the man-animals, with the gods to whom he had given himself and upon whom he was now dependent. chapter v--the covenant when december was well along, grey beaver went on a journey up the mackenzie. mit-sah and kloo-kooch went with him. one sled he drove himself, drawn by dogs he had traded for or borrowed. a second and smaller sled was driven by mit-sah, and to this was harnessed a team of puppies. it was more of a toy affair than anything else, yet it was the delight of mit-sah, who felt that he was beginning to do a man's work in the world. also, he was learning to drive dogs and to train dogs; while the puppies themselves were being broken in to the harness. furthermore, the sled was of some service, for it carried nearly two hundred pounds of outfit and food. white fang had seen the camp-dogs toiling in the harness, so that he did not resent overmuch the first placing of the harness upon himself. about his neck was put a moss-stuffed collar, which was connected by two pulling-traces to a strap that passed around his chest and over his back. it was to this that was fastened the long rope by which he pulled at the sled. there were seven puppies in the team. the others had been born earlier in the year and were nine and ten months old, while white fang was only eight months old. each dog was fastened to the sled by a single rope. no two ropes were of the same length, while the difference in length between any two ropes was at least that of a dog's body. every rope was brought to a ring at the front end of the sled. the sled itself was without runners, being a birch-bark toboggan, with upturned forward end to keep it from ploughing under the snow. this construction enabled the weight of the sled and load to be distributed over the largest snow-surface; for the snow was crystal-powder and very soft. observing the same principle of widest distribution of weight, the dogs at the ends of their ropes radiated fan-fashion from the nose of the sled, so that no dog trod in another's footsteps. there was, furthermore, another virtue in the fan-formation. the ropes of varying length prevented the dogs attacking from the rear those that ran in front of them. for a dog to attack another, it would have to turn upon one at a shorter rope. in which case it would find itself face to face with the dog attacked, and also it would find itself facing the whip of the driver. but the most peculiar virtue of all lay in the fact that the dog that strove to attack one in front of him must pull the sled faster, and that the faster the sled travelled, the faster could the dog attacked run away. thus, the dog behind could never catch up with the one in front. the faster he ran, the faster ran the one he was after, and the faster ran all the dogs. incidentally, the sled went faster, and thus, by cunning indirection, did man increase his mastery over the beasts. mit-sah resembled his father, much of whose grey wisdom he possessed. in the past he had observed lip-lip's persecution of white fang; but at that time lip-lip was another man's dog, and mit-sah had never dared more than to shy an occasional stone at him. but now lip-lip was his dog, and he proceeded to wreak his vengeance on him by putting him at the end of the longest rope. this made lip-lip the leader, and was apparently an honour! but in reality it took away from him all honour, and instead of being bully and master of the pack, he now found himself hated and persecuted by the pack. because he ran at the end of the longest rope, the dogs had always the view of him running away before them. all that they saw of him was his bushy tail and fleeing hind legs--a view far less ferocious and intimidating than his bristling mane and gleaming fangs. also, dogs being so constituted in their mental ways, the sight of him running away gave desire to run after him and a feeling that he ran away from them. the moment the sled started, the team took after lip-lip in a chase that extended throughout the day. at first he had been prone to turn upon his pursuers, jealous of his dignity and wrathful; but at such times mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the thirty-foot cariboo-gut whip into his face and compel him to turn tail and run on. lip-lip might face the pack, but he could not face that whip, and all that was left him to do was to keep his long rope taut and his flanks ahead of the teeth of his mates. but a still greater cunning lurked in the recesses of the indian mind. to give point to unending pursuit of the leader, mit-sah favoured him over the other dogs. these favours aroused in them jealousy and hatred. in their presence mit-sah would give him meat and would give it to him only. this was maddening to them. they would rage around just outside the throwing-distance of the whip, while lip-lip devoured the meat and mitsah protected him. and when there was no meat to give, mit-sah would keep the team at a distance and make believe to give meat to lip-lip. white fang took kindly to the work. he had travelled a greater distance than the other dogs in the yielding of himself to the rule of the gods, and he had learned more thoroughly the futility of opposing their will. in addition, the persecution he had suffered from the pack had made the pack less to him in the scheme of things, and man more. he had not learned to be dependent on his kind for companionship. besides, kiche was well-nigh forgotten; and the chief outlet of expression that remained to him was in the allegiance he tendered the gods he had accepted as masters. so he worked hard, learned discipline, and was obedient. faithfulness and willingness characterised his toil. these are essential traits of the wolf and the wild-dog when they have become domesticated, and these traits white fang possessed in unusual measure. a companionship did exist between white fang and the other dogs, but it was one of warfare and enmity. he had never learned to play with them. he knew only how to fight, and fight with them he did, returning to them a hundred-fold the snaps and slashes they had given him in the days when lip-lip was leader of the pack. but lip-lip was no longer leader--except when he fled away before his mates at the end of his rope, the sled bounding along behind. in camp he kept close to mit-sah or grey beaver or kloo-kooch. he did not dare venture away from the gods, for now the fangs of all dogs were against him, and he tasted to the dregs the persecution that had been white fang's. with the overthrow of lip-lip, white fang could have become leader of the pack. but he was too morose and solitary for that. he merely thrashed his team-mates. otherwise he ignored them. they got out of his way when he came along; nor did the boldest of them ever dare to rob him of his meat. on the contrary, they devoured their own meat hurriedly, for fear that he would take it away from them. white fang knew the law well: _to oppress the weak and obey the strong_. he ate his share of meat as rapidly as he could. and then woe the dog that had not yet finished! a snarl and a flash of fangs, and that dog would wail his indignation to the uncomforting stars while white fang finished his portion for him. every little while, however, one dog or another would flame up in revolt and be promptly subdued. thus white fang was kept in training. he was jealous of the isolation in which he kept himself in the midst of the pack, and he fought often to maintain it. but such fights were of brief duration. he was too quick for the others. they were slashed open and bleeding before they knew what had happened, were whipped almost before they had begun to fight. as rigid as the sled-discipline of the gods, was the discipline maintained by white fang amongst his fellows. he never allowed them any latitude. he compelled them to an unremitting respect for him. they might do as they pleased amongst themselves. that was no concern of his. but it _was_ his concern that they leave him alone in his isolation, get out of his way when he elected to walk among them, and at all times acknowledge his mastery over them. a hint of stiff-leggedness on their part, a lifted lip or a bristle of hair, and he would be upon them, merciless and cruel, swiftly convincing them of the error of their way. he was a monstrous tyrant. his mastery was rigid as steel. he oppressed the weak with a vengeance. not for nothing had he been exposed to the pitiless struggles for life in the day of his cubhood, when his mother and he, alone and unaided, held their own and survived in the ferocious environment of the wild. and not for nothing had he learned to walk softly when superior strength went by. he oppressed the weak, but he respected the strong. and in the course of the long journey with grey beaver he walked softly indeed amongst the full-grown dogs in the camps of the strange man-animals they encountered. the months passed by. still continued the journey of grey beaver. white fang's strength was developed by the long hours on trail and the steady toil at the sled; and it would have seemed that his mental development was well-nigh complete. he had come to know quite thoroughly the world in which he lived. his outlook was bleak and materialistic. the world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal world, a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection and the bright sweetnesses of the spirit did not exist. he had no affection for grey beaver. true, he was a god, but a most savage god. white fang was glad to acknowledge his lordship, but it was a lordship based upon superior intelligence and brute strength. there was something in the fibre of white fang's being that made his lordship a thing to be desired, else he would not have come back from the wild when he did to tender his allegiance. there were deeps in his nature which had never been sounded. a kind word, a caressing touch of the hand, on the part of grey beaver, might have sounded these deeps; but grey beaver did not caress, nor speak kind words. it was not his way. his primacy was savage, and savagely he ruled, administering justice with a club, punishing transgression with the pain of a blow, and rewarding merit, not by kindness, but by withholding a blow. so white fang knew nothing of the heaven a man's hand might contain for him. besides, he did not like the hands of the man-animals. he was suspicious of them. it was true that they sometimes gave meat, but more often they gave hurt. hands were things to keep away from. they hurled stones, wielded sticks and clubs and whips, administered slaps and clouts, and, when they touched him, were cunning to hurt with pinch and twist and wrench. in strange villages he had encountered the hands of the children and learned that they were cruel to hurt. also, he had once nearly had an eye poked out by a toddling papoose. from these experiences he became suspicious of all children. he could not tolerate them. when they came near with their ominous hands, he got up. it was in a village at the great slave lake, that, in the course of resenting the evil of the hands of the man-animals, he came to modify the law that he had learned from grey beaver: namely, that the unpardonable crime was to bite one of the gods. in this village, after the custom of all dogs in all villages, white fang went foraging, for food. a boy was chopping frozen moose-meat with an axe, and the chips were flying in the snow. white fang, sliding by in quest of meat, stopped and began to eat the chips. he observed the boy lay down the axe and take up a stout club. white fang sprang clear, just in time to escape the descending blow. the boy pursued him, and he, a stranger in the village, fled between two tepees to find himself cornered against a high earth bank. there was no escape for white fang. the only way out was between the two tepees, and this the boy guarded. holding his club prepared to strike, he drew in on his cornered quarry. white fang was furious. he faced the boy, bristling and snarling, his sense of justice outraged. he knew the law of forage. all the wastage of meat, such as the frozen chips, belonged to the dog that found it. he had done no wrong, broken no law, yet here was this boy preparing to give him a beating. white fang scarcely knew what happened. he did it in a surge of rage. and he did it so quickly that the boy did not know either. all the boy knew was that he had in some unaccountable way been overturned into the snow, and that his club-hand had been ripped wide open by white fang's teeth. but white fang knew that he had broken the law of the gods. he had driven his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of them, and could expect nothing but a most terrible punishment. he fled away to grey beaver, behind whose protecting legs he crouched when the bitten boy and the boy's family came, demanding vengeance. but they went away with vengeance unsatisfied. grey beaver defended white fang. so did mit-sah and kloo-kooch. white fang, listening to the wordy war and watching the angry gestures, knew that his act was justified. and so it came that he learned there were gods and gods. there were his gods, and there were other gods, and between them there was a difference. justice or injustice, it was all the same, he must take all things from the hands of his own gods. but he was not compelled to take injustice from the other gods. it was his privilege to resent it with his teeth. and this also was a law of the gods. before the day was out, white fang was to learn more about this law. mitsah, alone, gathering firewood in the forest, encountered the boy that had been bitten. with him were other boys. hot words passed. then all the boys attacked mit-sah. it was going hard with him. blows were raining upon him from all sides. white fang looked on at first. this was an affair of the gods, and no concern of his. then he realised that this was mit-sah, one of his own particular gods, who was being maltreated. it was no reasoned impulse that made white fang do what he then did. a mad rush of anger sent him leaping in amongst the combatants. five minutes later the landscape was covered with fleeing boys, many of whom dripped blood upon the snow in token that white fang's teeth had not been idle. when mit-sah told the story in camp, grey beaver ordered meat to be given to white fang. he ordered much meat to be given, and white fang, gorged and sleepy by the fire, knew that the law had received its verification. it was in line with these experiences that white fang came to learn the law of property and the duty of the defence of property. from the protection of his god's body to the protection of his god's possessions was a step, and this step he made. what was his god's was to be defended against all the world--even to the extent of biting other gods. not only was such an act sacrilegious in its nature, but it was fraught with peril. the gods were all-powerful, and a dog was no match against them; yet white fang learned to face them, fiercely belligerent and unafraid. duty rose above fear, and thieving gods learned to leave grey beaver's property alone. one thing, in this connection, white fang quickly learnt, and that was that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god and prone to run away at the sounding of the alarm. also, he learned that but brief time elapsed between his sounding of the alarm and grey beaver coming to his aid. he came to know that it was not fear of him that drove the thief away, but fear of grey beaver. white fang did not give the alarm by barking. he never barked. his method was to drive straight at the intruder, and to sink his teeth in if he could. because he was morose and solitary, having nothing to do with the other dogs, he was unusually fitted to guard his master's property; and in this he was encouraged and trained by grey beaver. one result of this was to make white fang more ferocious and indomitable, and more solitary. the months went by, binding stronger and stronger the covenant between dog and man. this was the ancient covenant that the first wolf that came in from the wild entered into with man. and, like all succeeding wolves and wild dogs that had done likewise, white fang worked the covenant out for himself. the terms were simple. for the possession of a flesh-andblood god, he exchanged his own liberty. food and fire, protection and companionship, were some of the things he received from the god. in return, he guarded the god's property, defended his body, worked for him, and obeyed him. the possession of a god implies service. white fang's was a service of duty and awe, but not of love. he did not know what love was. he had no experience of love. kiche was a remote memory. besides, not only had he abandoned the wild and his kind when he gave himself up to man, but the terms of the covenant were such that if ever he met kiche again he would not desert his god to go with her. his allegiance to man seemed somehow a law of his being greater than the love of liberty, of kind and kin. chapter vi--the famine the spring of the year was at hand when grey beaver finished his long journey. it was april, and white fang was a year old when he pulled into the home villages and was loosed from the harness by mit-sah. though a long way from his full growth, white fang, next to lip-lip, was the largest yearling in the village. both from his father, the wolf, and from kiche, he had inherited stature and strength, and already he was measuring up alongside the full-grown dogs. but he had not yet grown compact. his body was slender and rangy, and his strength more stringy than massive. his coat was the true wolf-grey, and to all appearances he was true wolf himself. the quarter-strain of dog he had inherited from kiche had left no mark on him physically, though it had played its part in his mental make-up. he wandered through the village, recognising with staid satisfaction the various gods he had known before the long journey. then there were the dogs, puppies growing up like himself, and grown dogs that did not look so large and formidable as the memory pictures he retained of them. also, he stood less in fear of them than formerly, stalking among them with a certain careless ease that was as new to him as it was enjoyable. there was baseek, a grizzled old fellow that in his younger days had but to uncover his fangs to send white fang cringing and crouching to the right about. from him white fang had learned much of his own insignificance; and from him he was now to learn much of the change and development that had taken place in himself. while baseek had been growing weaker with age, white fang had been growing stronger with youth. it was at the cutting-up of a moose, fresh-killed, that white fang learned of the changed relations in which he stood to the dog-world. he had got for himself a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which quite a bit of meat was attached. withdrawn from the immediate scramble of the other dogs--in fact out of sight behind a thicket--he was devouring his prize, when baseek rushed in upon him. before he knew what he was doing, he had slashed the intruder twice and sprung clear. baseek was surprised by the other's temerity and swiftness of attack. he stood, gazing stupidly across at white fang, the raw, red shin-bone between them. baseek was old, and already he had come to know the increasing valour of the dogs it had been his wont to bully. bitter experiences these, which, perforce, he swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to cope with them. in the old days he would have sprung upon white fang in a fury of righteous wrath. but now his waning powers would not permit such a course. he bristled fiercely and looked ominously across the shin-bone at white fang. and white fang, resurrecting quite a deal of the old awe, seemed to wilt and to shrink in upon himself and grow small, as he cast about in his mind for a way to beat a retreat not too inglorious. and right here baseek erred. had he contented himself with looking fierce and ominous, all would have been well. white fang, on the verge of retreat, would have retreated, leaving the meat to him. but baseek did not wait. he considered the victory already his and stepped forward to the meat. as he bent his head carelessly to smell it, white fang bristled slightly. even then it was not too late for baseek to retrieve the situation. had he merely stood over the meat, head up and glowering, white fang would ultimately have slunk away. but the fresh meat was strong in baseek's nostrils, and greed urged him to take a bite of it. this was too much for white fang. fresh upon his months of mastery over his own team-mates, it was beyond his self-control to stand idly by while another devoured the meat that belonged to him. he struck, after his custom, without warning. with the first slash, baseek's right ear was ripped into ribbons. he was astounded at the suddenness of it. but more things, and most grievous ones, were happening with equal suddenness. he was knocked off his feet. his throat was bitten. while he was struggling to his feet the young dog sank teeth twice into his shoulder. the swiftness of it was bewildering. he made a futile rush at white fang, clipping the empty air with an outraged snap. the next moment his nose was laid open, and he was staggering backward away from the meat. the situation was now reversed. white fang stood over the shin-bone, bristling and menacing, while baseek stood a little way off, preparing to retreat. he dared not risk a fight with this young lightning-flash, and again he knew, and more bitterly, the enfeeblement of oncoming age. his attempt to maintain his dignity was heroic. calmly turning his back upon young dog and shin-bone, as though both were beneath his notice and unworthy of his consideration, he stalked grandly away. nor, until well out of sight, did he stop to lick his bleeding wounds. the effect on white fang was to give him a greater faith in himself, and a greater pride. he walked less softly among the grown dogs; his attitude toward them was less compromising. not that he went out of his way looking for trouble. far from it. but upon his way he demanded consideration. he stood upon his right to go his way unmolested and to give trail to no dog. he had to be taken into account, that was all. he was no longer to be disregarded and ignored, as was the lot of puppies, and as continued to be the lot of the puppies that were his team-mates. they got out of the way, gave trail to the grown dogs, and gave up meat to them under compulsion. but white fang, uncompanionable, solitary, morose, scarcely looking to right or left, redoubtable, forbidding of aspect, remote and alien, was accepted as an equal by his puzzled elders. they quickly learned to leave him alone, neither venturing hostile acts nor making overtures of friendliness. if they left him alone, he left them alone--a state of affairs that they found, after a few encounters, to be pre-eminently desirable. in midsummer white fang had an experience. trotting along in his silent way to investigate a new tepee which had been erected on the edge of the village while he was away with the hunters after moose, he came full upon kiche. he paused and looked at her. he remembered her vaguely, but he _remembered_ her, and that was more than could be said for her. she lifted her lip at him in the old snarl of menace, and his memory became clear. his forgotten cubhood, all that was associated with that familiar snarl, rushed back to him. before he had known the gods, she had been to him the centre-pin of the universe. the old familiar feelings of that time came back upon him, surged up within him. he bounded towards her joyously, and she met him with shrewd fangs that laid his cheek open to the bone. he did not understand. he backed away, bewildered and puzzled. but it was not kiche's fault. a wolf-mother was not made to remember her cubs of a year or so before. so she did not remember white fang. he was a strange animal, an intruder; and her present litter of puppies gave her the right to resent such intrusion. one of the puppies sprawled up to white fang. they were half-brothers, only they did not know it. white fang sniffed the puppy curiously, whereupon kiche rushed upon him, gashing his face a second time. he backed farther away. all the old memories and associations died down again and passed into the grave from which they had been resurrected. he looked at kiche licking her puppy and stopping now and then to snarl at him. she was without value to him. he had learned to get along without her. her meaning was forgotten. there was no place for her in his scheme of things, as there was no place for him in hers. he was still standing, stupid and bewildered, the memories forgotten, wondering what it was all about, when kiche attacked him a third time, intent on driving him away altogether from the vicinity. and white fang allowed himself to be driven away. this was a female of his kind, and it was a law of his kind that the males must not fight the females. he did not know anything about this law, for it was no generalisation of the mind, not a something acquired by experience of the world. he knew it as a secret prompting, as an urge of instinct--of the same instinct that made him howl at the moon and stars of nights, and that made him fear death and the unknown. the months went by. white fang grew stronger, heavier, and more compact, while his character was developing along the lines laid down by his heredity and his environment. his heredity was a life-stuff that may be likened to clay. it possessed many possibilities, was capable of being moulded into many different forms. environment served to model the clay, to give it a particular form. thus, had white fang never come in to the fires of man, the wild would have moulded him into a true wolf. but the gods had given him a different environment, and he was moulded into a dog that was rather wolfish, but that was a dog and not a wolf. and so, according to the clay of his nature and the pressure of his surroundings, his character was being moulded into a certain particular shape. there was no escaping it. he was becoming more morose, more uncompanionable, more solitary, more ferocious; while the dogs were learning more and more that it was better to be at peace with him than at war, and grey beaver was coming to prize him more greatly with the passage of each day. white fang, seeming to sum up strength in all his qualities, nevertheless suffered from one besetting weakness. he could not stand being laughed at. the laughter of men was a hateful thing. they might laugh among themselves about anything they pleased except himself, and he did not mind. but the moment laughter was turned upon him he would fly into a most terrible rage. grave, dignified, sombre, a laugh made him frantic to ridiculousness. it so outraged him and upset him that for hours he would behave like a demon. and woe to the dog that at such times ran foul of him. he knew the law too well to take it out of grey beaver; behind grey beaver were a club and godhead. but behind the dogs there was nothing but space, and into this space they flew when white fang came on the scene, made mad by laughter. in the third year of his life there came a great famine to the mackenzie indians. in the summer the fish failed. in the winter the cariboo forsook their accustomed track. moose were scarce, the rabbits almost disappeared, hunting and preying animals perished. denied their usual food-supply, weakened by hunger, they fell upon and devoured one another. only the strong survived. white fang's gods were always hunting animals. the old and the weak of them died of hunger. there was wailing in the village, where the women and children went without in order that what little they had might go into the bellies of the lean and hollow-eyed hunters who trod the forest in the vain pursuit of meat. to such extremity were the gods driven that they ate the soft-tanned leather of their mocassins and mittens, while the dogs ate the harnesses off their backs and the very whip-lashes. also, the dogs ate one another, and also the gods ate the dogs. the weakest and the more worthless were eaten first. the dogs that still lived, looked on and understood. a few of the boldest and wisest forsook the fires of the gods, which had now become a shambles, and fled into the forest, where, in the end, they starved to death or were eaten by wolves. in this time of misery, white fang, too, stole away into the woods. he was better fitted for the life than the other dogs, for he had the training of his cubhood to guide him. especially adept did he become in stalking small living things. he would lie concealed for hours, following every movement of a cautious tree-squirrel, waiting, with a patience as huge as the hunger he suffered from, until the squirrel ventured out upon the ground. even then, white fang was not premature. he waited until he was sure of striking before the squirrel could gain a tree-refuge. then, and not until then, would he flash from his hidingplace, a grey projectile, incredibly swift, never failing its mark--the fleeing squirrel that fled not fast enough. successful as he was with squirrels, there was one difficulty that prevented him from living and growing fat on them. there were not enough squirrels. so he was driven to hunt still smaller things. so acute did his hunger become at times that he was not above rooting out wood-mice from their burrows in the ground. nor did he scorn to do battle with a weasel as hungry as himself and many times more ferocious. in the worst pinches of the famine he stole back to the fires of the gods. but he did not go into the fires. he lurked in the forest, avoiding discovery and robbing the snares at the rare intervals when game was caught. he even robbed grey beaver's snare of a rabbit at a time when grey beaver staggered and tottered through the forest, sitting down often to rest, what of weakness and of shortness of breath. one day white fang encountered a young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, loosejointed with famine. had he not been hungry himself, white fang might have gone with him and eventually found his way into the pack amongst his wild brethren. as it was, he ran the young wolf down and killed and ate him. fortune seemed to favour him. always, when hardest pressed for food, he found something to kill. again, when he was weak, it was his luck that none of the larger preying animals chanced upon him. thus, he was strong from the two days' eating a lynx had afforded him when the hungry wolfpack ran full tilt upon him. it was a long, cruel chase, but he was better nourished than they, and in the end outran them. and not only did he outrun them, but, circling widely back on his track, he gathered in one of his exhausted pursuers. after that he left that part of the country and journeyed over to the valley wherein he had been born. here, in the old lair, he encountered kiche. up to her old tricks, she, too, had fled the inhospitable fires of the gods and gone back to her old refuge to give birth to her young. of this litter but one remained alive when white fang came upon the scene, and this one was not destined to live long. young life had little chance in such a famine. kiche's greeting of her grown son was anything but affectionate. but white fang did not mind. he had outgrown his mother. so he turned tail philosophically and trotted on up the stream. at the forks he took the turning to the left, where he found the lair of the lynx with whom his mother and he had fought long before. here, in the abandoned lair, he settled down and rested for a day. during the early summer, in the last days of the famine, he met lip-lip, who had likewise taken to the woods, where he had eked out a miserable existence. white fang came upon him unexpectedly. trotting in opposite directions along the base of a high bluff, they rounded a corner of rock and found themselves face to face. they paused with instant alarm, and looked at each other suspiciously. white fang was in splendid condition. his hunting had been good, and for a week he had eaten his fill. he was even gorged from his latest kill. but in the moment he looked at lip-lip his hair rose on end all along his back. it was an involuntary bristling on his part, the physical state that in the past had always accompanied the mental state produced in him by lip-lip's bullying and persecution. as in the past he had bristled and snarled at sight of lip-lip, so now, and automatically, he bristled and snarled. he did not waste any time. the thing was done thoroughly and with despatch. lip-lip essayed to back away, but white fang struck him hard, shoulder to shoulder. lip-lip was overthrown and rolled upon his back. white fang's teeth drove into the scrawny throat. there was a death-struggle, during which white fang walked around, stiff-legged and observant. then he resumed his course and trotted on along the base of the bluff. one day, not long after, he came to the edge of the forest, where a narrow stretch of open land sloped down to the mackenzie. he had been over this ground before, when it was bare, but now a village occupied it. still hidden amongst the trees, he paused to study the situation. sights and sounds and scents were familiar to him. it was the old village changed to a new place. but sights and sounds and smells were different from those he had last had when he fled away from it. there was no whimpering nor wailing. contented sounds saluted his ear, and when he heard the angry voice of a woman he knew it to be the anger that proceeds from a full stomach. and there was a smell in the air of fish. there was food. the famine was gone. he came out boldly from the forest and trotted into camp straight to grey beaver's tepee. grey beaver was not there; but kloo-kooch welcomed him with glad cries and the whole of a fresh-caught fish, and he lay down to wait grey beaver's coming. part iv chapter i--the enemy of his kind had there been in white fang's nature any possibility, no matter how remote, of his ever coming to fraternise with his kind, such possibility was irretrievably destroyed when he was made leader of the sled-team. for now the dogs hated him--hated him for the extra meat bestowed upon him by mit-sah; hated him for all the real and fancied favours he received; hated him for that he fled always at the head of the team, his waving brush of a tail and his perpetually retreating hind-quarters for ever maddening their eyes. and white fang just as bitterly hated them back. being sled-leader was anything but gratifying to him. to be compelled to run away before the yelling pack, every dog of which, for three years, he had thrashed and mastered, was almost more than he could endure. but endure it he must, or perish, and the life that was in him had no desire to perish out. the moment mit-sah gave his order for the start, that moment the whole team, with eager, savage cries, sprang forward at white fang. there was no defence for him. if he turned upon them, mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of the whip into his face. only remained to him to run away. he could not encounter that howling horde with his tail and hind-quarters. these were scarcely fit weapons with which to meet the many merciless fangs. so run away he did, violating his own nature and pride with every leap he made, and leaping all day long. one cannot violate the promptings of one's nature without having that nature recoil upon itself. such a recoil is like that of a hair, made to grow out from the body, turning unnaturally upon the direction of its growth and growing into the body--a rankling, festering thing of hurt. and so with white fang. every urge of his being impelled him to spring upon the pack that cried at his heels, but it was the will of the gods that this should not be; and behind the will, to enforce it, was the whip of cariboo-gut with its biting thirty-foot lash. so white fang could only eat his heart in bitterness and develop a hatred and malice commensurate with the ferocity and indomitability of his nature. if ever a creature was the enemy of its kind, white fang was that creature. he asked no quarter, gave none. he was continually marred and scarred by the teeth of the pack, and as continually he left his own marks upon the pack. unlike most leaders, who, when camp was made and the dogs were unhitched, huddled near to the gods for protection, white fang disdained such protection. he walked boldly about the camp, inflicting punishment in the night for what he had suffered in the day. in the time before he was made leader of the team, the pack had learned to get out of his way. but now it was different. excited by the daylong pursuit of him, swayed subconsciously by the insistent iteration on their brains of the sight of him fleeing away, mastered by the feeling of mastery enjoyed all day, the dogs could not bring themselves to give way to him. when he appeared amongst them, there was always a squabble. his progress was marked by snarl and snap and growl. the very atmosphere he breathed was surcharged with hatred and malice, and this but served to increase the hatred and malice within him. when mit-sah cried out his command for the team to stop, white fang obeyed. at first this caused trouble for the other dogs. all of them would spring upon the hated leader only to find the tables turned. behind him would be mit-sah, the great whip singing in his hand. so the dogs came to understand that when the team stopped by order, white fang was to be let alone. but when white fang stopped without orders, then it was allowed them to spring upon him and destroy him if they could. after several experiences, white fang never stopped without orders. he learned quickly. it was in the nature of things, that he must learn quickly if he were to survive the unusually severe conditions under which life was vouchsafed him. but the dogs could never learn the lesson to leave him alone in camp. each day, pursuing him and crying defiance at him, the lesson of the previous night was erased, and that night would have to be learned over again, to be as immediately forgotten. besides, there was a greater consistence in their dislike of him. they sensed between themselves and him a difference of kind--cause sufficient in itself for hostility. like him, they were domesticated wolves. but they had been domesticated for generations. much of the wild had been lost, so that to them the wild was the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing and ever warring. but to him, in appearance and action and impulse, still clung the wild. he symbolised it, was its personification: so that when they showed their teeth to him they were defending themselves against the powers of destruction that lurked in the shadows of the forest and in the dark beyond the camp-fire. but there was one lesson the dogs did learn, and that was to keep together. white fang was too terrible for any of them to face singlehanded. they met him with the mass-formation, otherwise he would have killed them, one by one, in a night. as it was, he never had a chance to kill them. he might roll a dog off its feet, but the pack would be upon him before he could follow up and deliver the deadly throat-stroke. at the first hint of conflict, the whole team drew together and faced him. the dogs had quarrels among themselves, but these were forgotten when trouble was brewing with white fang. on the other hand, try as they would, they could not kill white fang. he was too quick for them, too formidable, too wise. he avoided tight places and always backed out of it when they bade fair to surround him. while, as for getting him off his feet, there was no dog among them capable of doing the trick. his feet clung to the earth with the same tenacity that he clung to life. for that matter, life and footing were synonymous in this unending warfare with the pack, and none knew it better than white fang. so he became the enemy of his kind, domesticated wolves that they were, softened by the fires of man, weakened in the sheltering shadow of man's strength. white fang was bitter and implacable. the clay of him was so moulded. he declared a vendetta against all dogs. and so terribly did he live this vendetta that grey beaver, fierce savage himself, could not but marvel at white fang's ferocity. never, he swore, had there been the like of this animal; and the indians in strange villages swore likewise when they considered the tale of his killings amongst their dogs. when white fang was nearly five years old, grey beaver took him on another great journey, and long remembered was the havoc he worked amongst the dogs of the many villages along the mackenzie, across the rockies, and down the porcupine to the yukon. he revelled in the vengeance he wreaked upon his kind. they were ordinary, unsuspecting dogs. they were not prepared for his swiftness and directness, for his attack without warning. they did not know him for what he was, a lightning-flash of slaughter. they bristled up to him, stiff-legged and challenging, while he, wasting no time on elaborate preliminaries, snapping into action like a steel spring, was at their throats and destroying them before they knew what was happening and while they were yet in the throes of surprise. he became an adept at fighting. he economised. he never wasted his strength, never tussled. he was in too quickly for that, and, if he missed, was out again too quickly. the dislike of the wolf for close quarters was his to an unusual degree. he could not endure a prolonged contact with another body. it smacked of danger. it made him frantic. he must be away, free, on his own legs, touching no living thing. it was the wild still clinging to him, asserting itself through him. this feeling had been accentuated by the ishmaelite life he had led from his puppyhood. danger lurked in contacts. it was the trap, ever the trap, the fear of it lurking deep in the life of him, woven into the fibre of him. in consequence, the strange dogs he encountered had no chance against him. he eluded their fangs. he got them, or got away, himself untouched in either event. in the natural course of things there were exceptions to this. there were times when several dogs, pitching on to him, punished him before he could get away; and there were times when a single dog scored deeply on him. but these were accidents. in the main, so efficient a fighter had he become, he went his way unscathed. another advantage he possessed was that of correctly judging time and distance. not that he did this consciously, however. he did not calculate such things. it was all automatic. his eyes saw correctly, and the nerves carried the vision correctly to his brain. the parts of him were better adjusted than those of the average dog. they worked together more smoothly and steadily. his was a better, far better, nervous, mental, and muscular co-ordination. when his eyes conveyed to his brain the moving image of an action, his brain without conscious effort, knew the space that limited that action and the time required for its completion. thus, he could avoid the leap of another dog, or the drive of its fangs, and at the same moment could seize the infinitesimal fraction of time in which to deliver his own attack. body and brain, his was a more perfected mechanism. not that he was to be praised for it. nature had been more generous to him than to the average animal, that was all. it was in the summer that white fang arrived at fort yukon. grey beaver had crossed the great watershed between mackenzie and the yukon in the late winter, and spent the spring in hunting among the western outlying spurs of the rockies. then, after the break-up of the ice on the porcupine, he had built a canoe and paddled down that stream to where it effected its junction with the yukon just under the arctic circle. here stood the old hudson's bay company fort; and here were many indians, much food, and unprecedented excitement. it was the summer of 1898, and thousands of gold-hunters were going up the yukon to dawson and the klondike. still hundreds of miles from their goal, nevertheless many of them had been on the way for a year, and the least any of them had travelled to get that far was five thousand miles, while some had come from the other side of the world. here grey beaver stopped. a whisper of the gold-rush had reached his ears, and he had come with several bales of furs, and another of gut-sewn mittens and moccasins. he would not have ventured so long a trip had he not expected generous profits. but what he had expected was nothing to what he realised. his wildest dreams had not exceeded a hundred per cent. profit; he made a thousand per cent. and like a true indian, he settled down to trade carefully and slowly, even if it took all summer and the rest of the winter to dispose of his goods. it was at fort yukon that white fang saw his first white men. as compared with the indians he had known, they were to him another race of beings, a race of superior gods. they impressed him as possessing superior power, and it is on power that godhead rests. white fang did not reason it out, did not in his mind make the sharp generalisation that the white gods were more powerful. it was a feeling, nothing more, and yet none the less potent. as, in his puppyhood, the looming bulks of the tepees, man-reared, had affected him as manifestations of power, so was he affected now by the houses and the huge fort all of massive logs. here was power. those white gods were strong. they possessed greater mastery over matter than the gods he had known, most powerful among which was grey beaver. and yet grey beaver was as a child-god among these whiteskinned ones. to be sure, white fang only felt these things. he was not conscious of them. yet it is upon feeling, more often than thinking, that animals act; and every act white fang now performed was based upon the feeling that the white men were the superior gods. in the first place he was very suspicious of them. there was no telling what unknown terrors were theirs, what unknown hurts they could administer. he was curious to observe them, fearful of being noticed by them. for the first few hours he was content with slinking around and watching them from a safe distance. then he saw that no harm befell the dogs that were near to them, and he came in closer. in turn he was an object of great curiosity to them. his wolfish appearance caught their eyes at once, and they pointed him out to one another. this act of pointing put white fang on his guard, and when they tried to approach him he showed his teeth and backed away. not one succeeded in laying a hand on him, and it was well that they did not. white fang soon learned that very few of these gods--not more than a dozen--lived at this place. every two or three days a steamer (another and colossal manifestation of power) came into the bank and stopped for several hours. the white men came from off these steamers and went away on them again. there seemed untold numbers of these white men. in the first day or so, he saw more of them than he had seen indians in all his life; and as the days went by they continued to come up the river, stop, and then go on up the river out of sight. but if the white gods were all-powerful, their dogs did not amount to much. this white fang quickly discovered by mixing with those that came ashore with their masters. they were irregular shapes and sizes. some were short-legged--too short; others were long-legged--too long. they had hair instead of fur, and a few had very little hair at that. and none of them knew how to fight. as an enemy of his kind, it was in white fang's province to fight with them. this he did, and he quickly achieved for them a mighty contempt. they were soft and helpless, made much noise, and floundered around clumsily trying to accomplish by main strength what he accomplished by dexterity and cunning. they rushed bellowing at him. he sprang to the side. they did not know what had become of him; and in that moment he struck them on the shoulder, rolling them off their feet and delivering his stroke at the throat. sometimes this stroke was successful, and a stricken dog rolled in the dirt, to be pounced upon and torn to pieces by the pack of indian dogs that waited. white fang was wise. he had long since learned that the gods were made angry when their dogs were killed. the white men were no exception to this. so he was content, when he had overthrown and slashed wide the throat of one of their dogs, to drop back and let the pack go in and do the cruel finishing work. it was then that the white men rushed in, visiting their wrath heavily on the pack, while white fang went free. he would stand off at a little distance and look on, while stones, clubs, axes, and all sorts of weapons fell upon his fellows. white fang was very wise. but his fellows grew wise in their own way; and in this white fang grew wise with them. they learned that it was when a steamer first tied to the bank that they had their fun. after the first two or three strange dogs had been downed and destroyed, the white men hustled their own animals back on board and wreaked savage vengeance on the offenders. one white man, having seen his dog, a setter, torn to pieces before his eyes, drew a revolver. he fired rapidly, six times, and six of the pack lay dead or dying--another manifestation of power that sank deep into white fang's consciousness. white fang enjoyed it all. he did not love his kind, and he was shrewd enough to escape hurt himself. at first, the killing of the white men's dogs had been a diversion. after a time it became his occupation. there was no work for him to do. grey beaver was busy trading and getting wealthy. so white fang hung around the landing with the disreputable gang of indian dogs, waiting for steamers. with the arrival of a steamer the fun began. after a few minutes, by the time the white men had got over their surprise, the gang scattered. the fun was over until the next steamer should arrive. but it can scarcely be said that white fang was a member of the gang. he did not mingle with it, but remained aloof, always himself, and was even feared by it. it is true, he worked with it. he picked the quarrel with the strange dog while the gang waited. and when he had overthrown the strange dog the gang went in to finish it. but it is equally true that he then withdrew, leaving the gang to receive the punishment of the outraged gods. it did not require much exertion to pick these quarrels. all he had to do, when the strange dogs came ashore, was to show himself. when they saw him they rushed for him. it was their instinct. he was the wild--the unknown, the terrible, the ever-menacing, the thing that prowled in the darkness around the fires of the primeval world when they, cowering close to the fires, were reshaping their instincts, learning to fear the wild out of which they had come, and which they had deserted and betrayed. generation by generation, down all the generations, had this fear of the wild been stamped into their natures. for centuries the wild had stood for terror and destruction. and during all this time free licence had been theirs, from their masters, to kill the things of the wild. in doing this they had protected both themselves and the gods whose companionship they shared. and so, fresh from the soft southern world, these dogs, trotting down the gang-plank and out upon the yukon shore had but to see white fang to experience the irresistible impulse to rush upon him and destroy him. they might be town-reared dogs, but the instinctive fear of the wild was theirs just the same. not alone with their own eyes did they see the wolfish creature in the clear light of day, standing before them. they saw him with the eyes of their ancestors, and by their inherited memory they knew white fang for the wolf, and they remembered the ancient feud. all of which served to make white fang's days enjoyable. if the sight of him drove these strange dogs upon him, so much the better for him, so much the worse for them. they looked upon him as legitimate prey, and as legitimate prey he looked upon them. not for nothing had he first seen the light of day in a lonely lair and fought his first fights with the ptarmigan, the weasel, and the lynx. and not for nothing had his puppyhood been made bitter by the persecution of lip-lip and the whole puppy pack. it might have been otherwise, and he would then have been otherwise. had lip-lip not existed, he would have passed his puppyhood with the other puppies and grown up more doglike and with more liking for dogs. had grey beaver possessed the plummet of affection and love, he might have sounded the deeps of white fang's nature and brought up to the surface all manner of kindly qualities. but these things had not been so. the clay of white fang had been moulded until he became what he was, morose and lonely, unloving and ferocious, the enemy of all his kind. chapter ii--the mad god a small number of white men lived in fort yukon. these men had been long in the country. they called themselves sour-doughs, and took great pride in so classifying themselves. for other men, new in the land, they felt nothing but disdain. the men who came ashore from the steamers were newcomers. they were known as _chechaquos_, and they always wilted at the application of the name. they made their bread with baking-powder. this was the invidious distinction between them and the sour-doughs, who, forsooth, made their bread from sour-dough because they had no bakingpowder. all of which is neither here nor there. the men in the fort disdained the newcomers and enjoyed seeing them come to grief. especially did they enjoy the havoc worked amongst the newcomers' dogs by white fang and his disreputable gang. when a steamer arrived, the men of the fort made it a point always to come down to the bank and see the fun. they looked forward to it with as much anticipation as did the indian dogs, while they were not slow to appreciate the savage and crafty part played by white fang. but there was one man amongst them who particularly enjoyed the sport. he would come running at the first sound of a steamboat's whistle; and when the last fight was over and white fang and the pack had scattered, he would return slowly to the fort, his face heavy with regret. sometimes, when a soft southland dog went down, shrieking its death-cry under the fangs of the pack, this man would be unable to contain himself, and would leap into the air and cry out with delight. and always he had a sharp and covetous eye for white fang. this man was called "beauty" by the other men of the fort. no one knew his first name, and in general he was known in the country as beauty smith. but he was anything save a beauty. to antithesis was due his naming. he was pre-eminently unbeautiful. nature had been niggardly with him. he was a small man to begin with; and upon his meagre frame was deposited an even more strikingly meagre head. its apex might be likened to a point. in fact, in his boyhood, before he had been named beauty by his fellows, he had been called "pinhead." backward, from the apex, his head slanted down to his neck and forward it slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low and remarkably wide forehead. beginning here, as though regretting her parsimony, nature had spread his features with a lavish hand. his eyes were large, and between them was the distance of two eyes. his face, in relation to the rest of him, was prodigious. in order to discover the necessary area, nature had given him an enormous prognathous jaw. it was wide and heavy, and protruded outward and down until it seemed to rest on his chest. possibly this appearance was due to the weariness of the slender neck, unable properly to support so great a burden. this jaw gave the impression of ferocious determination. but something lacked. perhaps it was from excess. perhaps the jaw was too large. at any rate, it was a lie. beauty smith was known far and wide as the weakest of weak-kneed and snivelling cowards. to complete his description, his teeth were large and yellow, while the two eye-teeth, larger than their fellows, showed under his lean lips like fangs. his eyes were yellow and muddy, as though nature had run short on pigments and squeezed together the dregs of all her tubes. it was the same with his hair, sparse and irregular of growth, muddy-yellow and dirty-yellow, rising on his head and sprouting out of his face in unexpected tufts and bunches, in appearance like clumped and wind-blown grain. in short, beauty smith was a monstrosity, and the blame of it lay elsewhere. he was not responsible. the clay of him had been so moulded in the making. he did the cooking for the other men in the fort, the dish-washing and the drudgery. they did not despise him. rather did they tolerate him in a broad human way, as one tolerates any creature evilly treated in the making. also, they feared him. his cowardly rages made them dread a shot in the back or poison in their coffee. but somebody had to do the cooking, and whatever else his shortcomings, beauty smith could cook. this was the man that looked at white fang, delighted in his ferocious prowess, and desired to possess him. he made overtures to white fang from the first. white fang began by ignoring him. later on, when the overtures became more insistent, white fang bristled and bared his teeth and backed away. he did not like the man. the feel of him was bad. he sensed the evil in him, and feared the extended hand and the attempts at soft-spoken speech. because of all this, he hated the man. with the simpler creatures, good and bad are things simply understood. the good stands for all things that bring easement and satisfaction and surcease from pain. therefore, the good is liked. the bad stands for all things that are fraught with discomfort, menace, and hurt, and is hated accordingly. white fang's feel of beauty smith was bad. from the man's distorted body and twisted mind, in occult ways, like mists rising from malarial marshes, came emanations of the unhealth within. not by reasoning, not by the five senses alone, but by other and remoter and uncharted senses, came the feeling to white fang that the man was ominous with evil, pregnant with hurtfulness, and therefore a thing bad, and wisely to be hated. white fang was in grey beaver's camp when beauty smith first visited it. at the faint sound of his distant feet, before he came in sight, white fang knew who was coming and began to bristle. he had been lying down in an abandon of comfort, but he arose quickly, and, as the man arrived, slid away in true wolf-fashion to the edge of the camp. he did not know what they said, but he could see the man and grey beaver talking together. once, the man pointed at him, and white fang snarled back as though the hand were just descending upon him instead of being, as it was, fifty feet away. the man laughed at this; and white fang slunk away to the sheltering woods, his head turned to observe as he glided softly over the ground. grey beaver refused to sell the dog. he had grown rich with his trading and stood in need of nothing. besides, white fang was a valuable animal, the strongest sled-dog he had ever owned, and the best leader. furthermore, there was no dog like him on the mackenzie nor the yukon. he could fight. he killed other dogs as easily as men killed mosquitoes. (beauty smith's eyes lighted up at this, and he licked his thin lips with an eager tongue). no, white fang was not for sale at any price. but beauty smith knew the ways of indians. he visited grey beaver's camp often, and hidden under his coat was always a black bottle or so. one of the potencies of whisky is the breeding of thirst. grey beaver got the thirst. his fevered membranes and burnt stomach began to clamour for more and more of the scorching fluid; while his brain, thrust all awry by the unwonted stimulant, permitted him to go any length to obtain it. the money he had received for his furs and mittens and moccasins began to go. it went faster and faster, and the shorter his money-sack grew, the shorter grew his temper. in the end his money and goods and temper were all gone. nothing remained to him but his thirst, a prodigious possession in itself that grew more prodigious with every sober breath he drew. then it was that beauty smith had talk with him again about the sale of white fang; but this time the price offered was in bottles, not dollars, and grey beaver's ears were more eager to hear. "you ketch um dog you take um all right," was his last word. the bottles were delivered, but after two days. "you ketch um dog," were beauty smith's words to grey beaver. white fang slunk into camp one evening and dropped down with a sigh of content. the dreaded white god was not there. for days his manifestations of desire to lay hands on him had been growing more insistent, and during that time white fang had been compelled to avoid the camp. he did not know what evil was threatened by those insistent hands. he knew only that they did threaten evil of some sort, and that it was best for him to keep out of their reach. but scarcely had he lain down when grey beaver staggered over to him and tied a leather thong around his neck. he sat down beside white fang, holding the end of the thong in his hand. in the other hand he held a bottle, which, from time to time, was inverted above his head to the accompaniment of gurgling noises. an hour of this passed, when the vibrations of feet in contact with the ground foreran the one who approached. white fang heard it first, and he was bristling with recognition while grey beaver still nodded stupidly. white fang tried to draw the thong softly out of his master's hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly and grey beaver roused himself. beauty smith strode into camp and stood over white fang. he snarled softly up at the thing of fear, watching keenly the deportment of the hands. one hand extended outward and began to descend upon his head. his soft snarl grew tense and harsh. the hand continued slowly to descend, while he crouched beneath it, eyeing it malignantly, his snarl growing shorter and shorter as, with quickening breath, it approached its culmination. suddenly he snapped, striking with his fangs like a snake. the hand was jerked back, and the teeth came together emptily with a sharp click. beauty smith was frightened and angry. grey beaver clouted white fang alongside the head, so that he cowered down close to the earth in respectful obedience. white fang's suspicious eyes followed every movement. he saw beauty smith go away and return with a stout club. then the end of the thong was given over to him by grey beaver. beauty smith started to walk away. the thong grew taut. white fang resisted it. grey beaver clouted him right and left to make him get up and follow. he obeyed, but with a rush, hurling himself upon the stranger who was dragging him away. beauty smith did not jump away. he had been waiting for this. he swung the club smartly, stopping the rush midway and smashing white fang down upon the ground. grey beaver laughed and nodded approval. beauty smith tightened the thong again, and white fang crawled limply and dizzily to his feet. he did not rush a second time. one smash from the club was sufficient to convince him that the white god knew how to handle it, and he was too wise to fight the inevitable. so he followed morosely at beauty smith's heels, his tail between his legs, yet snarling softly under his breath. but beauty smith kept a wary eye on him, and the club was held always ready to strike. at the fort beauty smith left him securely tied and went in to bed. white fang waited an hour. then he applied his teeth to the thong, and in the space of ten seconds was free. he had wasted no time with his teeth. there had been no useless gnawing. the thong was cut across, diagonally, almost as clean as though done by a knife. white fang looked up at the fort, at the same time bristling and growling. then he turned and trotted back to grey beaver's camp. he owed no allegiance to this strange and terrible god. he had given himself to grey beaver, and to grey beaver he considered he still belonged. but what had occurred before was repeated--with a difference. grey beaver again made him fast with a thong, and in the morning turned him over to beauty smith. and here was where the difference came in. beauty smith gave him a beating. tied securely, white fang could only rage futilely and endure the punishment. club and whip were both used upon him, and he experienced the worst beating he had ever received in his life. even the big beating given him in his puppyhood by grey beaver was mild compared with this. beauty smith enjoyed the task. he delighted in it. he gloated over his victim, and his eyes flamed dully, as he swung the whip or club and listened to white fang's cries of pain and to his helpless bellows and snarls. for beauty smith was cruel in the way that cowards are cruel. cringing and snivelling himself before the blows or angry speech of a man, he revenged himself, in turn, upon creatures weaker than he. all life likes power, and beauty smith was no exception. denied the expression of power amongst his own kind, he fell back upon the lesser creatures and there vindicated the life that was in him. but beauty smith had not created himself, and no blame was to be attached to him. he had come into the world with a twisted body and a brute intelligence. this had constituted the clay of him, and it had not been kindly moulded by the world. white fang knew why he was being beaten. when grey beaver tied the thong around his neck, and passed the end of the thong into beauty smith's keeping, white fang knew that it was his god's will for him to go with beauty smith. and when beauty smith left him tied outside the fort, he knew that it was beauty smith's will that he should remain there. therefore, he had disobeyed the will of both the gods, and earned the consequent punishment. he had seen dogs change owners in the past, and he had seen the runaways beaten as he was being beaten. he was wise, and yet in the nature of him there were forces greater than wisdom. one of these was fidelity. he did not love grey beaver, yet, even in the face of his will and his anger, he was faithful to him. he could not help it. this faithfulness was a quality of the clay that composed him. it was the quality that was peculiarly the possession of his kind; the quality that set apart his species from all other species; the quality that has enabled the wolf and the wild dog to come in from the open and be the companions of man. after the beating, white fang was dragged back to the fort. but this time beauty smith left him tied with a stick. one does not give up a god easily, and so with white fang. grey beaver was his own particular god, and, in spite of grey beaver's will, white fang still clung to him and would not give him up. grey beaver had betrayed and forsaken him, but that had no effect upon him. not for nothing had he surrendered himself body and soul to grey beaver. there had been no reservation on white fang's part, and the bond was not to be broken easily. so, in the night, when the men in the fort were asleep, white fang applied his teeth to the stick that held him. the wood was seasoned and dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely get his teeth to it. it was only by the severest muscular exertion and neckarching that he succeeded in getting the wood between his teeth, and barely between his teeth at that; and it was only by the exercise of an immense patience, extending through many hours, that he succeeded in gnawing through the stick. this was something that dogs were not supposed to do. it was unprecedented. but white fang did it, trotting away from the fort in the early morning, with the end of the stick hanging to his neck. he was wise. but had he been merely wise he would not have gone back to grey beaver who had already twice betrayed him. but there was his faithfulness, and he went back to be betrayed yet a third time. again he yielded to the tying of a thong around his neck by grey beaver, and again beauty smith came to claim him. and this time he was beaten even more severely than before. grey beaver looked on stolidly while the white man wielded the whip. he gave no protection. it was no longer his dog. when the beating was over white fang was sick. a soft southland dog would have died under it, but not he. his school of life had been sterner, and he was himself of sterner stuff. he had too great vitality. his clutch on life was too strong. but he was very sick. at first he was unable to drag himself along, and beauty smith had to wait half-an-hour for him. and then, blind and reeling, he followed at beauty smith's heels back to the fort. but now he was tied with a chain that defied his teeth, and he strove in vain, by lunging, to draw the staple from the timber into which it was driven. after a few days, sober and bankrupt, grey beaver departed up the porcupine on his long journey to the mackenzie. white fang remained on the yukon, the property of a man more than half mad and all brute. but what is a dog to know in its consciousness of madness? to white fang, beauty smith was a veritable, if terrible, god. he was a mad god at best, but white fang knew nothing of madness; he knew only that he must submit to the will of this new master, obey his every whim and fancy. chapter iii--the reign of hate under the tutelage of the mad god, white fang became a fiend. he was kept chained in a pen at the rear of the fort, and here beauty smith teased and irritated and drove him wild with petty torments. the man early discovered white fang's susceptibility to laughter, and made it a point after painfully tricking him, to laugh at him. this laughter was uproarious and scornful, and at the same time the god pointed his finger derisively at white fang. at such times reason fled from white fang, and in his transports of rage he was even more mad than beauty smith. formerly, white fang had been merely the enemy of his kind, withal a ferocious enemy. he now became the enemy of all things, and more ferocious than ever. to such an extent was he tormented, that he hated blindly and without the faintest spark of reason. he hated the chain that bound him, the men who peered in at him through the slats of the pen, the dogs that accompanied the men and that snarled malignantly at him in his helplessness. he hated the very wood of the pen that confined him. and, first, last, and most of all, he hated beauty smith. but beauty smith had a purpose in all that he did to white fang. one day a number of men gathered about the pen. beauty smith entered, club in hand, and took the chain off from white fang's neck. when his master had gone out, white fang turned loose and tore around the pen, trying to get at the men outside. he was magnificently terrible. fully five feet in length, and standing two and one-half feet at the shoulder, he far outweighed a wolf of corresponding size. from his mother he had inherited the heavier proportions of the dog, so that he weighed, without any fat and without an ounce of superfluous flesh, over ninety pounds. it was all muscle, bone, and sinew-fighting flesh in the finest condition. the door of the pen was being opened again. white fang paused. something unusual was happening. he waited. the door was opened wider. then a huge dog was thrust inside, and the door was slammed shut behind him. white fang had never seen such a dog (it was a mastiff); but the size and fierce aspect of the intruder did not deter him. here was some thing, not wood nor iron, upon which to wreak his hate. he leaped in with a flash of fangs that ripped down the side of the mastiff's neck. the mastiff shook his head, growled hoarsely, and plunged at white fang. but white fang was here, there, and everywhere, always evading and eluding, and always leaping in and slashing with his fangs and leaping out again in time to escape punishment. the men outside shouted and applauded, while beauty smith, in an ecstasy of delight, gloated over the ripping and mangling performed by white fang. there was no hope for the mastiff from the first. he was too ponderous and slow. in the end, while beauty smith beat white fang back with a club, the mastiff was dragged out by its owner. then there was a payment of bets, and money clinked in beauty smith's hand. white fang came to look forward eagerly to the gathering of the men around his pen. it meant a fight; and this was the only way that was now vouchsafed him of expressing the life that was in him. tormented, incited to hate, he was kept a prisoner so that there was no way of satisfying that hate except at the times his master saw fit to put another dog against him. beauty smith had estimated his powers well, for he was invariably the victor. one day, three dogs were turned in upon him in succession. another day a full-grown wolf, fresh-caught from the wild, was shoved in through the door of the pen. and on still another day two dogs were set against him at the same time. this was his severest fight, and though in the end he killed them both he was himself half killed in doing it. in the fall of the year, when the first snows were falling and mush-ice was running in the river, beauty smith took passage for himself and white fang on a steamboat bound up the yukon to dawson. white fang had now achieved a reputation in the land. as "the fighting wolf" he was known far and wide, and the cage in which he was kept on the steam-boat's deck was usually surrounded by curious men. he raged and snarled at them, or lay quietly and studied them with cold hatred. why should he not hate them? he never asked himself the question. he knew only hate and lost himself in the passion of it. life had become a hell to him. he had not been made for the close confinement wild beasts endure at the hands of men. and yet it was in precisely this way that he was treated. men stared at him, poked sticks between the bars to make him snarl, and then laughed at him. they were his environment, these men, and they were moulding the clay of him into a more ferocious thing than had been intended by nature. nevertheless, nature had given him plasticity. where many another animal would have died or had its spirit broken, he adjusted himself and lived, and at no expense of the spirit. possibly beauty smith, arch-fiend and tormentor, was capable of breaking white fang's spirit, but as yet there were no signs of his succeeding. if beauty smith had in him a devil, white fang had another; and the two of them raged against each other unceasingly. in the days before, white fang had had the wisdom to cower down and submit to a man with a club in his hand; but this wisdom now left him. the mere sight of beauty smith was sufficient to send him into transports of fury. and when they came to close quarters, and he had been beaten back by the club, he went on growling and snarling, and showing his fangs. the last growl could never be extracted from him. no matter how terribly he was beaten, he had always another growl; and when beauty smith gave up and withdrew, the defiant growl followed after him, or white fang sprang at the bars of the cage bellowing his hatred. when the steamboat arrived at dawson, white fang went ashore. but he still lived a public life, in a cage, surrounded by curious men. he was exhibited as "the fighting wolf," and men paid fifty cents in gold dust to see him. he was given no rest. did he lie down to sleep, he was stirred up by a sharp stick--so that the audience might get its money's worth. in order to make the exhibition interesting, he was kept in a rage most of the time. but worse than all this, was the atmosphere in which he lived. he was regarded as the most fearful of wild beasts, and this was borne in to him through the bars of the cage. every word, every cautious action, on the part of the men, impressed upon him his own terrible ferocity. it was so much added fuel to the flame of his fierceness. there could be but one result, and that was that his ferocity fed upon itself and increased. it was another instance of the plasticity of his clay, of his capacity for being moulded by the pressure of environment. in addition to being exhibited he was a professional fighting animal. at irregular intervals, whenever a fight could be arranged, he was taken out of his cage and led off into the woods a few miles from town. usually this occurred at night, so as to avoid interference from the mounted police of the territory. after a few hours of waiting, when daylight had come, the audience and the dog with which he was to fight arrived. in this manner it came about that he fought all sizes and breeds of dogs. it was a savage land, the men were savage, and the fights were usually to the death. since white fang continued to fight, it is obvious that it was the other dogs that died. he never knew defeat. his early training, when he fought with lip-lip and the whole puppy-pack, stood him in good stead. there was the tenacity with which he clung to the earth. no dog could make him lose his footing. this was the favourite trick of the wolf breeds--to rush in upon him, either directly or with an unexpected swerve, in the hope of striking his shoulder and overthrowing him. mackenzie hounds, eskimo and labrador dogs, huskies and malemutes--all tried it on him, and all failed. he was never known to lose his footing. men told this to one another, and looked each time to see it happen; but white fang always disappointed them. then there was his lightning quickness. it gave him a tremendous advantage over his antagonists. no matter what their fighting experience, they had never encountered a dog that moved so swiftly as he. also to be reckoned with, was the immediateness of his attack. the average dog was accustomed to the preliminaries of snarling and bristling and growling, and the average dog was knocked off his feet and finished before he had begun to fight or recovered from his surprise. so often did this happen, that it became the custom to hold white fang until the other dog went through its preliminaries, was good and ready, and even made the first attack. but greatest of all the advantages in white fang's favour, was his experience. he knew more about fighting than did any of the dogs that faced him. he had fought more fights, knew how to meet more tricks and methods, and had more tricks himself, while his own method was scarcely to be improved upon. as the time went by, he had fewer and fewer fights. men despaired of matching him with an equal, and beauty smith was compelled to pit wolves against him. these were trapped by the indians for the purpose, and a fight between white fang and a wolf was always sure to draw a crowd. once, a full-grown female lynx was secured, and this time white fang fought for his life. her quickness matched his; her ferocity equalled his; while he fought with his fangs alone, and she fought with her sharpclawed feet as well. but after the lynx, all fighting ceased for white fang. there were no more animals with which to fight--at least, there was none considered worthy of fighting with him. so he remained on exhibition until spring, when one tim keenan, a faro-dealer, arrived in the land. with him came the first bull-dog that had ever entered the klondike. that this dog and white fang should come together was inevitable, and for a week the anticipated fight was the mainspring of conversation in certain quarters of the town. chapter iv--the clinging death beauty smith slipped the chain from his neck and stepped back. for once white fang did not make an immediate attack. he stood still, ears pricked forward, alert and curious, surveying the strange animal that faced him. he had never seen such a dog before. tim keenan shoved the bull-dog forward with a muttered "go to it." the animal waddled toward the centre of the circle, short and squat and ungainly. he came to a stop and blinked across at white fang. there were cries from the crowd of, "go to him, cherokee! sick 'm, cherokee! eat 'm up!" but cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. he turned his head and blinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump of a tail good-naturedly. he was not afraid, but merely lazy. besides, it did not seem to him that it was intended he should fight with the dog he saw before him. he was not used to fighting with that kind of dog, and he was waiting for them to bring on the real dog. tim keenan stepped in and bent over cherokee, fondling him on both sides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the hair and that made slight, pushing-forward movements. these were so many suggestions. also, their effect was irritating, for cherokee began to growl, very softly, deep down in his throat. there was a correspondence in rhythm between the growls and the movements of the man's hands. the growl rose in the throat with the culmination of each forward-pushing movement, and ebbed down to start up afresh with the beginning of the next movement. the end of each movement was the accent of the rhythm, the movement ending abruptly and the growling rising with a jerk. this was not without its effect on white fang. the hair began to rise on his neck and across the shoulders. tim keenan gave a final shove forward and stepped back again. as the impetus that carried cherokee forward died down, he continued to go forward of his own volition, in a swift, bow-legged run. then white fang struck. a cry of startled admiration went up. he had covered the distance and gone in more like a cat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness he had slashed with his fangs and leaped clear. the bull-dog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick neck. he gave no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed after white fang. the display on both sides, the quickness of the one and the steadiness of the other, had excited the partisan spirit of the crowd, and the men were making new bets and increasing original bets. again, and yet again, white fang sprang in, slashed, and got away untouched, and still his strange foe followed after him, without too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and determinedly, in a businesslike sort of way. there was purpose in his method--something for him to do that he was intent upon doing and from which nothing could distract him. his whole demeanour, every action, was stamped with this purpose. it puzzled white fang. never had he seen such a dog. it had no hair protection. it was soft, and bled easily. there was no thick mat of fur to baffle white fang's teeth as they were often baffled by dogs of his own breed. each time that his teeth struck they sank easily into the yielding flesh, while the animal did not seem able to defend itself. another disconcerting thing was that it made no outcry, such as he had been accustomed to with the other dogs he had fought. beyond a growl or a grunt, the dog took its punishment silently. and never did it flag in its pursuit of him. not that cherokee was slow. he could turn and whirl swiftly enough, but white fang was never there. cherokee was puzzled, too. he had never fought before with a dog with which he could not close. the desire to close had always been mutual. but here was a dog that kept at a distance, dancing and dodging here and there and all about. and when it did get its teeth into him, it did not hold on but let go instantly and darted away again. but white fang could not get at the soft underside of the throat. the bull-dog stood too short, while its massive jaws were an added protection. white fang darted in and out unscathed, while cherokee's wounds increased. both sides of his neck and head were ripped and slashed. he bled freely, but showed no signs of being disconcerted. he continued his plodding pursuit, though once, for the moment baffled, he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked on, at the same time wagging his stump of a tail as an expression of his willingness to fight. in that moment white fang was in upon him and out, in passing ripping his trimmed remnant of an ear. with a slight manifestation of anger, cherokee took up the pursuit again, running on the inside of the circle white fang was making, and striving to fasten his deadly grip on white fang's throat. the bull-dog missed by a hair's-breadth, and cries of praise went up as white fang doubled suddenly out of danger in the opposite direction. the time went by. white fang still danced on, dodging and doubling, leaping in and out, and ever inflicting damage. and still the bull-dog, with grim certitude, toiled after him. sooner or later he would accomplish his purpose, get the grip that would win the battle. in the meantime, he accepted all the punishment the other could deal him. his tufts of ears had become tassels, his neck and shoulders were slashed in a score of places, and his very lips were cut and bleeding--all from these lightning snaps that were beyond his foreseeing and guarding. time and again white fang had attempted to knock cherokee off his feet; but the difference in their height was too great. cherokee was too squat, too close to the ground. white fang tried the trick once too often. the chance came in one of his quick doublings and counter-circlings. he caught cherokee with head turned away as he whirled more slowly. his shoulder was exposed. white fang drove in upon it: but his own shoulder was high above, while he struck with such force that his momentum carried him on across over the other's body. for the first time in his fighting history, men saw white fang lose his footing. his body turned a half-somersault in the air, and he would have landed on his back had he not twisted, catlike, still in the air, in the effort to bring his feet to the earth. as it was, he struck heavily on his side. the next instant he was on his feet, but in that instant cherokee's teeth closed on his throat. it was not a good grip, being too low down toward the chest; but cherokee held on. white fang sprang to his feet and tore wildly around, trying to shake off the bull-dog's body. it made him frantic, this clinging, dragging weight. it bound his movements, restricted his freedom. it was like the trap, and all his instinct resented it and revolted against it. it was a mad revolt. for several minutes he was to all intents insane. the basic life that was in him took charge of him. the will to exist of his body surged over him. he was dominated by this mere flesh-love of life. all intelligence was gone. it was as though he had no brain. his reason was unseated by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist and move, at all hazards to move, to continue to move, for movement was the expression of its existence. round and round he went, whirling and turning and reversing, trying to shake off the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his throat. the bulldog did little but keep his grip. sometimes, and rarely, he managed to get his feet to the earth and for a moment to brace himself against white fang. but the next moment his footing would be lost and he would be dragging around in the whirl of one of white fang's mad gyrations. cherokee identified himself with his instinct. he knew that he was doing the right thing by holding on, and there came to him certain blissful thrills of satisfaction. at such moments he even closed his eyes and allowed his body to be hurled hither and thither, willy-nilly, careless of any hurt that might thereby come to it. that did not count. the grip was the thing, and the grip he kept. white fang ceased only when he had tired himself out. he could do nothing, and he could not understand. never, in all his fighting, had this thing happened. the dogs he had fought with did not fight that way. with them it was snap and slash and get away, snap and slash and get away. he lay partly on his side, panting for breath. cherokee still holding his grip, urged against him, trying to get him over entirely on his side. white fang resisted, and he could feel the jaws shifting their grip, slightly relaxing and coming together again in a chewing movement. each shift brought the grip closer to his throat. the bull-dog's method was to hold what he had, and when opportunity favoured to work in for more. opportunity favoured when white fang remained quiet. when white fang struggled, cherokee was content merely to hold on. the bulging back of cherokee's neck was the only portion of his body that white fang's teeth could reach. he got hold toward the base where the neck comes out from the shoulders; but he did not know the chewing method of fighting, nor were his jaws adapted to it. he spasmodically ripped and tore with his fangs for a space. then a change in their position diverted him. the bull-dog had managed to roll him over on his back, and still hanging on to his throat, was on top of him. like a cat, white fang bowed his hind-quarters in, and, with the feet digging into his enemy's abdomen above him, he began to claw with long tearing-strokes. cherokee might well have been disembowelled had he not quickly pivoted on his grip and got his body off of white fang's and at right angles to it. there was no escaping that grip. it was like fate itself, and as inexorable. slowly it shifted up along the jugular. all that saved white fang from death was the loose skin of his neck and the thick fur that covered it. this served to form a large roll in cherokee's mouth, the fur of which well-nigh defied his teeth. but bit by bit, whenever the chance offered, he was getting more of the loose skin and fur in his mouth. the result was that he was slowly throttling white fang. the latter's breath was drawn with greater and greater difficulty as the moments went by. it began to look as though the battle were over. the backers of cherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds. white fang's backers were correspondingly depressed, and refused bets of ten to one and twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close a wager of fifty to one. this man was beauty smith. he took a step into the ring and pointed his finger at white fang. then he began to laugh derisively and scornfully. this produced the desired effect. white fang went wild with rage. he called up his reserves of strength, and gained his feet. as he struggled around the ring, the fifty pounds of his foe ever dragging on his throat, his anger passed on into panic. the basic life of him dominated him again, and his intelligence fled before the will of his flesh to live. round and round and back again, stumbling and falling and rising, even uprearing at times on his hind-legs and lifting his foe clear of the earth, he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death. at last he fell, toppling backward, exhausted; and the bull-dog promptly shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling more and more of the furfolded flesh, throttling white fang more severely than ever. shouts of applause went up for the victor, and there were many cries of "cherokee!" "cherokee!" to this cherokee responded by vigorous wagging of the stump of his tail. but the clamour of approval did not distract him. there was no sympathetic relation between his tail and his massive jaws. the one might wag, but the others held their terrible grip on white fang's throat. it was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. there was a jingle of bells. dog-mushers' cries were heard. everybody, save beauty smith, looked apprehensively, the fear of the police strong upon them. but they saw, up the trail, and not down, two men running with sled and dogs. they were evidently coming down the creek from some prospecting trip. at sight of the crowd they stopped their dogs and came over and joined it, curious to see the cause of the excitement. the dog-musher wore a moustache, but the other, a taller and younger man, was smoothshaven, his skin rosy from the pounding of his blood and the running in the frosty air. white fang had practically ceased struggling. now and again he resisted spasmodically and to no purpose. he could get little air, and that little grew less and less under the merciless grip that ever tightened. in spite of his armour of fur, the great vein of his throat would have long since been torn open, had not the first grip of the bull-dog been so low down as to be practically on the chest. it had taken cherokee a long time to shift that grip upward, and this had also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and skin-fold. in the meantime, the abysmal brute in beauty smith had been rising into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed at best. when he saw white fang's eyes beginning to glaze, he knew beyond doubt that the fight was lost. then he broke loose. he sprang upon white fang and began savagely to kick him. there were hisses from the crowd and cries of protest, but that was all. while this went on, and beauty smith continued to kick white fang, there was a commotion in the crowd. the tall young newcomer was forcing his way through, shouldering men right and left without ceremony or gentleness. when he broke through into the ring, beauty smith was just in the act of delivering another kick. all his weight was on one foot, and he was in a state of unstable equilibrium. at that moment the newcomer's fist landed a smashing blow full in his face. beauty smith's remaining leg left the ground, and his whole body seemed to lift into the air as he turned over backward and struck the snow. the newcomer turned upon the crowd. "you cowards!" he cried. "you beasts!" he was in a rage himself--a sane rage. his grey eyes seemed metallic and steel-like as they flashed upon the crowd. beauty smith regained his feet and came toward him, sniffling and cowardly. the new-comer did not understand. he did not know how abject a coward the other was, and thought he was coming back intent on fighting. so, with a "you beast!" he smashed beauty smith over backward with a second blow in the face. beauty smith decided that the snow was the safest place for him, and lay where he had fallen, making no effort to get up. "come on, matt, lend a hand," the newcomer called the dog-musher, who had followed him into the ring. both men bent over the dogs. matt took hold of white fang, ready to pull when cherokee's jaws should be loosened. this the younger man endeavoured to accomplish by clutching the bulldog's jaws in his hands and trying to spread them. it was a vain undertaking. as he pulled and tugged and wrenched, he kept exclaiming with every expulsion of breath, "beasts!" the crowd began to grow unruly, and some of the men were protesting against the spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced when the newcomer lifted his head from his work for a moment and glared at them. "you damn beasts!" he finally exploded, and went back to his task. "it's no use, mr. scott, you can't break 'm apart that way," matt said at last. the pair paused and surveyed the locked dogs. "ain't bleedin' much," matt announced. "ain't got all the way in yet." "but he's liable to any moment," scott answered. "there, did you see that! he shifted his grip in a bit." the younger man's excitement and apprehension for white fang was growing. he struck cherokee about the head savagely again and again. but that did not loosen the jaws. cherokee wagged the stump of his tail in advertisement that he understood the meaning of the blows, but that he knew he was himself in the right and only doing his duty by keeping his grip. "won't some of you help?" scott cried desperately at the crowd. but no help was offered. instead, the crowd began sarcastically to cheer him on and showered him with facetious advice. "you'll have to get a pry," matt counselled. the other reached into the holster at his hip, drew his revolver, and tried to thrust its muzzle between the bull-dog's jaws. he shoved, and shoved hard, till the grating of the steel against the locked teeth could be distinctly heard. both men were on their knees, bending over the dogs. tim keenan strode into the ring. he paused beside scott and touched him on the shoulder, saying ominously: "don't break them teeth, stranger." "then i'll break his neck," scott retorted, continuing his shoving and wedging with the revolver muzzle. "i said don't break them teeth," the faro-dealer repeated more ominously than before. but if it was a bluff he intended, it did not work. scott never desisted from his efforts, though he looked up coolly and asked: "your dog?" the faro-dealer grunted. "then get in here and break this grip." "well, stranger," the other drawled irritatingly, "i don't mind telling you that's something i ain't worked out for myself. i don't know how to turn the trick." "then get out of the way," was the reply, "and don't bother me. i'm busy." tim keenan continued standing over him, but scott took no further notice of his presence. he had managed to get the muzzle in between the jaws on one side, and was trying to get it out between the jaws on the other side. this accomplished, he pried gently and carefully, loosening the jaws a bit at a time, while matt, a bit at a time, extricated white fang's mangled neck. "stand by to receive your dog," was scott's peremptory order to cherokee's owner. the faro-dealer stooped down obediently and got a firm hold on cherokee. "now!" scott warned, giving the final pry. the dogs were drawn apart, the bull-dog struggling vigorously. "take him away," scott commanded, and tim keenan dragged cherokee back into the crowd. white fang made several ineffectual efforts to get up. once he gained his feet, but his legs were too weak to sustain him, and he slowly wilted and sank back into the snow. his eyes were half closed, and the surface of them was glassy. his jaws were apart, and through them the tongue protruded, draggled and limp. to all appearances he looked like a dog that had been strangled to death. matt examined him. "just about all in," he announced; "but he's breathin' all right." beauty smith had regained his feet and come over to look at white fang. "matt, how much is a good sled-dog worth?" scott asked. the dog-musher, still on his knees and stooped over white fang, calculated for a moment. "three hundred dollars," he answered. "and how much for one that's all chewed up like this one?" scott asked, nudging white fang with his foot. "half of that," was the dog-musher's judgment. scott turned upon beauty smith. "did you hear, mr. beast? i'm going to take your dog from you, and i'm going to give you a hundred and fifty for him." he opened his pocket-book and counted out the bills. beauty smith put his hands behind his back, refusing to touch the proffered money. "i ain't a-sellin'," he said. "oh, yes you are," the other assured him. "because i'm buying. here's your money. the dog's mine." beauty smith, his hands still behind him, began to back away. scott sprang toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. beauty smith cowered down in anticipation of the blow. "i've got my rights," he whimpered. "you've forfeited your rights to own that dog," was the rejoinder. "are you going to take the money? or do i have to hit you again?" "all right," beauty smith spoke up with the alacrity of fear. "but i take the money under protest," he added. "the dog's a mint. i ain't agoin' to be robbed. a man's got his rights." "correct," scott answered, passing the money over to him. "a man's got his rights. but you're not a man. you're a beast." "wait till i get back to dawson," beauty smith threatened. "i'll have the law on you." "if you open your mouth when you get back to dawson, i'll have you run out of town. understand?" beauty smith replied with a grunt. "understand?" the other thundered with abrupt fierceness. "yes," beauty smith grunted, shrinking away. "yes what?" "yes, sir," beauty smith snarled. "look out! he'll bite!" some one shouted, and a guffaw of laughter went up. scott turned his back on him, and returned to help the dog-musher, who was working over white fang. some of the men were already departing; others stood in groups, looking on and talking. tim keenan joined one of the groups. "who's that mug?" he asked. "weedon scott," some one answered. "and who in hell is weedon scott?" the faro-dealer demanded. "oh, one of them crackerjack minin' experts. he's in with all the big bugs. if you want to keep out of trouble, you'll steer clear of him, that's my talk. he's all hunky with the officials. the gold commissioner's a special pal of his." "i thought he must be somebody," was the faro-dealer's comment. "that's why i kept my hands offen him at the start." chapter v--the indomitable "it's hopeless," weedon scott confessed. he sat on the step of his cabin and stared at the dog-musher, who responded with a shrug that was equally hopeless. together they looked at white fang at the end of his stretched chain, bristling, snarling, ferocious, straining to get at the sled-dogs. having received sundry lessons from matt, said lessons being imparted by means of a club, the sled-dogs had learned to leave white fang alone; and even then they were lying down at a distance, apparently oblivious of his existence. "it's a wolf and there's no taming it," weedon scott announced. "oh, i don't know about that," matt objected. "might be a lot of dog in 'm, for all you can tell. but there's one thing i know sure, an' that there's no gettin' away from." the dog-musher paused and nodded his head confidentially at moosehide mountain. "well, don't be a miser with what you know," scott said sharply, after waiting a suitable length of time. "spit it out. what is it?" the dog-musher indicated white fang with a backward thrust of his thumb. "wolf or dog, it's all the same--he's ben tamed 'ready." "no!" "i tell you yes, an' broke to harness. look close there. d'ye see them marks across the chest?" "you're right, matt. he was a sled-dog before beauty smith got hold of him." "and there's not much reason against his bein' a sled-dog again." "what d'ye think?" scott queried eagerly. then the hope died down as he added, shaking his head, "we've had him two weeks now, and if anything he's wilder than ever at the present moment." "give 'm a chance," matt counselled. "turn 'm loose for a spell." the other looked at him incredulously. "yes," matt went on, "i know you've tried to, but you didn't take a club." "you try it then." the dog-musher secured a club and went over to the chained animal. white fang watched the club after the manner of a caged lion watching the whip of its trainer. "see 'm keep his eye on that club," matt said. "that's a good sign. he's no fool. don't dast tackle me so long as i got that club handy. he's not clean crazy, sure." as the man's hand approached his neck, white fang bristled and snarled and crouched down. but while he eyed the approaching hand, he at the same time contrived to keep track of the club in the other hand, suspended threateningly above him. matt unsnapped the chain from the collar and stepped back. white fang could scarcely realise that he was free. many months had gone by since he passed into the possession of beauty smith, and in all that period he had never known a moment of freedom except at the times he had been loosed to fight with other dogs. immediately after such fights he had always been imprisoned again. he did not know what to make of it. perhaps some new devilry of the gods was about to be perpetrated on him. he walked slowly and cautiously, prepared to be assailed at any moment. he did not know what to do, it was all so unprecedented. he took the precaution to sheer off from the two watching gods, and walked carefully to the corner of the cabin. nothing happened. he was plainly perplexed, and he came back again, pausing a dozen feet away and regarding the two men intently. "won't he run away?" his new owner asked. matt shrugged his shoulders. "got to take a gamble. only way to find out is to find out." "poor devil," scott murmured pityingly. "what he needs is some show of human kindness," he added, turning and going into the cabin. he came out with a piece of meat, which he tossed to white fang. he sprang away from it, and from a distance studied it suspiciously. "hi-yu, major!" matt shouted warningly, but too late. major had made a spring for the meat. at the instant his jaws closed on it, white fang struck him. he was overthrown. matt rushed in, but quicker than he was white fang. major staggered to his feet, but the blood spouting from his throat reddened the snow in a widening path. "it's too bad, but it served him right," scott said hastily. but matt's foot had already started on its way to kick white fang. there was a leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. white fang, snarling fiercely, scrambled backward for several yards, while matt stooped and investigated his leg. "he got me all right," he announced, pointing to the torn trousers and undercloths, and the growing stain of red. "i told you it was hopeless, matt," scott said in a discouraged voice. "i've thought about it off and on, while not wanting to think of it. but we've come to it now. it's the only thing to do." as he talked, with reluctant movements he drew his revolver, threw open the cylinder, and assured himself of its contents. "look here, mr. scott," matt objected; "that dog's ben through hell. you can't expect 'm to come out a white an' shinin' angel. give 'm time." "look at major," the other rejoined. the dog-musher surveyed the stricken dog. he had sunk down on the snow in the circle of his blood and was plainly in the last gasp. "served 'm right. you said so yourself, mr. scott. he tried to take white fang's meat, an' he's dead-o. that was to be expected. i wouldn't give two whoops in hell for a dog that wouldn't fight for his own meat." "but look at yourself, matt. it's all right about the dogs, but we must draw the line somewhere." "served me right," matt argued stubbornly. "what'd i want to kick 'm for? you said yourself that he'd done right. then i had no right to kick 'm." "it would be a mercy to kill him," scott insisted. "he's untamable." "now look here, mr. scott, give the poor devil a fightin' chance. he ain't had no chance yet. he's just come through hell, an' this is the first time he's ben loose. give 'm a fair chance, an' if he don't deliver the goods, i'll kill 'm myself. there!" "god knows i don't want to kill him or have him killed," scott answered, putting away the revolver. "we'll let him run loose and see what kindness can do for him. and here's a try at it." he walked over to white fang and began talking to him gently and soothingly. "better have a club handy," matt warned. scott shook his head and went on trying to win white fang's confidence. white fang was suspicious. something was impending. he had killed this god's dog, bitten his companion god, and what else was to be expected than some terrible punishment? but in the face of it he was indomitable. he bristled and showed his teeth, his eyes vigilant, his whole body wary and prepared for anything. the god had no club, so he suffered him to approach quite near. the god's hand had come out and was descending upon his head. white fang shrank together and grew tense as he crouched under it. here was danger, some treachery or something. he knew the hands of the gods, their proved mastery, their cunning to hurt. besides, there was his old antipathy to being touched. he snarled more menacingly, crouched still lower, and still the hand descended. he did not want to bite the hand, and he endured the peril of it until his instinct surged up in him, mastering him with its insatiable yearning for life. weedon scott had believed that he was quick enough to avoid any snap or slash. but he had yet to learn the remarkable quickness of white fang, who struck with the certainty and swiftness of a coiled snake. scott cried out sharply with surprise, catching his torn hand and holding it tightly in his other hand. matt uttered a great oath and sprang to his side. white fang crouched down, and backed away, bristling, showing his fangs, his eyes malignant with menace. now he could expect a beating as fearful as any he had received from beauty smith. "here! what are you doing?" scott cried suddenly. matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle. "nothin'," he said slowly, with a careless calmness that was assumed, "only goin' to keep that promise i made. i reckon it's up to me to kill 'm as i said i'd do." "no you don't!" "yes i do. watch me." as matt had pleaded for white fang when he had been bitten, it was now weedon scott's turn to plead. "you said to give him a chance. well, give it to him. we've only just started, and we can't quit at the beginning. it served me right, this time. and--look at him!" white fang, near the corner of the cabin and forty feet away, was snarling with blood-curdling viciousness, not at scott, but at the dogmusher. "well, i'll be everlastingly gosh-swoggled!" was the dog-musher's expression of astonishment. "look at the intelligence of him," scott went on hastily. "he knows the meaning of firearms as well as you do. he's got intelligence and we've got to give that intelligence a chance. put up the gun." "all right, i'm willin'," matt agreed, leaning the rifle against the woodpile. "but will you look at that!" he exclaimed the next moment. white fang had quieted down and ceased snarling. "this is worth investigatin'. watch." matt, reached for the rifle, and at the same moment white fang snarled. he stepped away from the rifle, and white fang's lifted lips descended, covering his teeth. "now, just for fun." matt took the rifle and began slowly to raise it to his shoulder. white fang's snarling began with the movement, and increased as the movement approached its culmination. but the moment before the rifle came to a level on him, he leaped sidewise behind the corner of the cabin. matt stood staring along the sights at the empty space of snow which had been occupied by white fang. the dog-musher put the rifle down solemnly, then turned and looked at his employer. "i agree with you, mr. scott. that dog's too intelligent to kill." chapter vi--the love-master as white fang watched weedon scott approach, he bristled and snarled to advertise that he would not submit to punishment. twenty-four hours had passed since he had slashed open the hand that was now bandaged and held up by a sling to keep the blood out of it. in the past white fang had experienced delayed punishments, and he apprehended that such a one was about to befall him. how could it be otherwise? he had committed what was to him sacrilege, sunk his fangs into the holy flesh of a god, and of a white-skinned superior god at that. in the nature of things, and of intercourse with gods, something terrible awaited him. the god sat down several feet away. white fang could see nothing dangerous in that. when the gods administered punishment they stood on their legs. besides, this god had no club, no whip, no firearm. and furthermore, he himself was free. no chain nor stick bound him. he could escape into safety while the god was scrambling to his feet. in the meantime he would wait and see. the god remained quiet, made no movement; and white fang's snarl slowly dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in his throat and ceased. then the god spoke, and at the first sound of his voice, the hair rose on white fang's neck and the growl rushed up in his throat. but the god made no hostile movement, and went on calmly talking. for a time white fang growled in unison with him, a correspondence of rhythm being established between growl and voice. but the god talked on interminably. he talked to white fang as white fang had never been talked to before. he talked softly and soothingly, with a gentleness that somehow, somewhere, touched white fang. in spite of himself and all the pricking warnings of his instinct, white fang began to have confidence in this god. he had a feeling of security that was belied by all his experience with men. after a long time, the god got up and went into the cabin. white fang scanned him apprehensively when he came out. he had neither whip nor club nor weapon. nor was his uninjured hand behind his back hiding something. he sat down as before, in the same spot, several feet away. he held out a small piece of meat. white fang pricked his ears and investigated it suspiciously, managing to look at the same time both at the meat and the god, alert for any overt act, his body tense and ready to spring away at the first sign of hostility. still the punishment delayed. the god merely held near to his nose a piece of meat. and about the meat there seemed nothing wrong. still white fang suspected; and though the meat was proffered to him with short inviting thrusts of the hand, he refused to touch it. the gods were allwise, and there was no telling what masterful treachery lurked behind that apparently harmless piece of meat. in past experience, especially in dealing with squaws, meat and punishment had often been disastrously related. in the end, the god tossed the meat on the snow at white fang's feet. he smelled the meat carefully; but he did not look at it. while he smelled it he kept his eyes on the god. nothing happened. he took the meat into his mouth and swallowed it. still nothing happened. the god was actually offering him another piece of meat. again he refused to take it from the hand, and again it was tossed to him. this was repeated a number of times. but there came a time when the god refused to toss it. he kept it in his hand and steadfastly proffered it. the meat was good meat, and white fang was hungry. bit by bit, infinitely cautious, he approached the hand. at last the time came that he decided to eat the meat from the hand. he never took his eyes from the god, thrusting his head forward with ears flattened back and hair involuntarily rising and cresting on his neck. also a low growl rumbled in his throat as warning that he was not to be trifled with. he ate the meat, and nothing happened. piece by piece, he ate all the meat, and nothing happened. still the punishment delayed. he licked his chops and waited. the god went on talking. in his voice was kindness--something of which white fang had no experience whatever. and within him it aroused feelings which he had likewise never experienced before. he was aware of a certain strange satisfaction, as though some need were being gratified, as though some void in his being were being filled. then again came the prod of his instinct and the warning of past experience. the gods were ever crafty, and they had unguessed ways of attaining their ends. ah, he had thought so! there it came now, the god's hand, cunning to hurt, thrusting out at him, descending upon his head. but the god went on talking. his voice was soft and soothing. in spite of the menacing hand, the voice inspired confidence. and in spite of the assuring voice, the hand inspired distrust. white fang was torn by conflicting feelings, impulses. it seemed he would fly to pieces, so terrible was the control he was exerting, holding together by an unwonted indecision the counterforces that struggled within him for mastery. he compromised. he snarled and bristled and flattened his ears. but he neither snapped nor sprang away. the hand descended. nearer and nearer it came. it touched the ends of his upstanding hair. he shrank down under it. it followed down after him, pressing more closely against him. shrinking, almost shivering, he still managed to hold himself together. it was a torment, this hand that touched him and violated his instinct. he could not forget in a day all the evil that had been wrought him at the hands of men. but it was the will of the god, and he strove to submit. the hand lifted and descended again in a patting, caressing movement. this continued, but every time the hand lifted, the hair lifted under it. and every time the hand descended, the ears flattened down and a cavernous growl surged in his throat. white fang growled and growled with insistent warning. by this means he announced that he was prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might receive. there was no telling when the god's ulterior motive might be disclosed. at any moment that soft, confidence-inspiring voice might break forth in a roar of wrath, that gentle and caressing hand transform itself into a vice-like grip to hold him helpless and administer punishment. but the god talked on softly, and ever the hand rose and fell with nonhostile pats. white fang experienced dual feelings. it was distasteful to his instinct. it restrained him, opposed the will of him toward personal liberty. and yet it was not physically painful. on the contrary, it was even pleasant, in a physical way. the patting movement slowly and carefully changed to a rubbing of the ears about their bases, and the physical pleasure even increased a little. yet he continued to fear, and he stood on guard, expectant of unguessed evil, alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling or the other came uppermost and swayed him. "well, i'll be gosh-swoggled!" so spoke matt, coming out of the cabin, his sleeves rolled up, a pan of dirty dish-water in his hands, arrested in the act of emptying the pan by the sight of weedon scott patting white fang. at the instant his voice broke the silence, white fang leaped back, snarling savagely at him. matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval. "if you don't mind my expressin' my feelin's, mr. scott, i'll make free to say you're seventeen kinds of a damn fool an' all of 'em different, an' then some." weedon scott smiled with a superior air, gained his feet, and walked over to white fang. he talked soothingly to him, but not for long, then slowly put out his hand, rested it on white fang's head, and resumed the interrupted patting. white fang endured it, keeping his eyes fixed suspiciously, not upon the man that patted him, but upon the man that stood in the doorway. "you may be a number one, tip-top minin' expert, all right all right," the dog-musher delivered himself oracularly, "but you missed the chance of your life when you was a boy an' didn't run off an' join a circus." white fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back of his neck with long, soothing strokes. it was the beginning of the end for white fang--the ending of the old life and the reign of hate. a new and incomprehensibly fairer life was dawning. it required much thinking and endless patience on the part of weedon scott to accomplish this. and on the part of white fang it required nothing less than a revolution. he had to ignore the urges and promptings of instinct and reason, defy experience, give the lie to life itself. life, as he had known it, not only had had no place in it for much that he now did; but all the currents had gone counter to those to which he now abandoned himself. in short, when all things were considered, he had to achieve an orientation far vaster than the one he had achieved at the time he came voluntarily in from the wild and accepted grey beaver as his lord. at that time he was a mere puppy, soft from the making, without form, ready for the thumb of circumstance to begin its work upon him. but now it was different. the thumb of circumstance had done its work only too well. by it he had been formed and hardened into the fighting wolf, fierce and implacable, unloving and unlovable. to accomplish the change was like a reflux of being, and this when the plasticity of youth was no longer his; when the fibre of him had become tough and knotty; when the warp and the woof of him had made of him an adamantine texture, harsh and unyielding; when the face of his spirit had become iron and all his instincts and axioms had crystallised into set rules, cautions, dislikes, and desires. yet again, in this new orientation, it was the thumb of circumstance that pressed and prodded him, softening that which had become hard and remoulding it into fairer form. weedon scott was in truth this thumb. he had gone to the roots of white fang's nature, and with kindness touched to life potencies that had languished and well-nigh perished. one such potency was _love_. it took the place of _like_, which latter had been the highest feeling that thrilled him in his intercourse with the gods. but this love did not come in a day. it began with _like_ and out of it slowly developed. white fang did not run away, though he was allowed to remain loose, because he liked this new god. this was certainly better than the life he had lived in the cage of beauty smith, and it was necessary that he should have some god. the lordship of man was a need of his nature. the seal of his dependence on man had been set upon him in that early day when he turned his back on the wild and crawled to grey beaver's feet to receive the expected beating. this seal had been stamped upon him again, and ineradicably, on his second return from the wild, when the long famine was over and there was fish once more in the village of grey beaver. and so, because he needed a god and because he preferred weedon scott to beauty smith, white fang remained. in acknowledgment of fealty, he proceeded to take upon himself the guardianship of his master's property. he prowled about the cabin while the sled-dogs slept, and the first nightvisitor to the cabin fought him off with a club until weedon scott came to the rescue. but white fang soon learned to differentiate between thieves and honest men, to appraise the true value of step and carriage. the man who travelled, loud-stepping, the direct line to the cabin door, he let alone--though he watched him vigilantly until the door opened and he received the endorsement of the master. but the man who went softly, by circuitous ways, peering with caution, seeking after secrecy--that was the man who received no suspension of judgment from white fang, and who went away abruptly, hurriedly, and without dignity. weedon scott had set himself the task of redeeming white fang--or rather, of redeeming mankind from the wrong it had done white fang. it was a matter of principle and conscience. he felt that the ill done white fang was a debt incurred by man and that it must be paid. so he went out of his way to be especially kind to the fighting wolf. each day he made it a point to caress and pet white fang, and to do it at length. at first suspicious and hostile, white fang grew to like this petting. but there was one thing that he never outgrew--his growling. growl he would, from the moment the petting began till it ended. but it was a growl with a new note in it. a stranger could not hear this note, and to such a stranger the growling of white fang was an exhibition of primordial savagery, nerve-racking and blood-curdling. but white fang's throat had become harsh-fibred from the making of ferocious sounds through the many years since his first little rasp of anger in the lair of his cubhood, and he could not soften the sounds of that throat now to express the gentleness he felt. nevertheless, weedon scott's ear and sympathy were fine enough to catch the new note all but drowned in the fierceness--the note that was the faintest hint of a croon of content and that none but he could hear. as the days went by, the evolution of _like_ into _love_ was accelerated. white fang himself began to grow aware of it, though in his consciousness he knew not what love was. it manifested itself to him as a void in his being--a hungry, aching, yearning void that clamoured to be filled. it was a pain and an unrest; and it received easement only by the touch of the new god's presence. at such times love was joy to him, a wild, keenthrilling satisfaction. but when away from his god, the pain and the unrest returned; the void in him sprang up and pressed against him with its emptiness, and the hunger gnawed and gnawed unceasingly. white fang was in the process of finding himself. in spite of the maturity of his years and of the savage rigidity of the mould that had formed him, his nature was undergoing an expansion. there was a burgeoning within him of strange feelings and unwonted impulses. his old code of conduct was changing. in the past he had liked comfort and surcease from pain, disliked discomfort and pain, and he had adjusted his actions accordingly. but now it was different. because of this new feeling within him, he ofttimes elected discomfort and pain for the sake of his god. thus, in the early morning, instead of roaming and foraging, or lying in a sheltered nook, he would wait for hours on the cheerless cabin-stoop for a sight of the god's face. at night, when the god returned home, white fang would leave the warm sleeping-place he had burrowed in the snow in order to receive the friendly snap of fingers and the word of greeting. meat, even meat itself, he would forego to be with his god, to receive a caress from him or to accompany him down into the town. _like_ had been replaced by _love_. and love was the plummet dropped down into the deeps of him where like had never gone. and responsive out of his deeps had come the new thing--love. that which was given unto him did he return. this was a god indeed, a love-god, a warm and radiant god, in whose light white fang's nature expanded as a flower expands under the sun. but white fang was not demonstrative. he was too old, too firmly moulded, to become adept at expressing himself in new ways. he was too self-possessed, too strongly poised in his own isolation. too long had he cultivated reticence, aloofness, and moroseness. he had never barked in his life, and he could not now learn to bark a welcome when his god approached. he was never in the way, never extravagant nor foolish in the expression of his love. he never ran to meet his god. he waited at a distance; but he always waited, was always there. his love partook of the nature of worship, dumb, inarticulate, a silent adoration. only by the steady regard of his eyes did he express his love, and by the unceasing following with his eyes of his god's every movement. also, at times, when his god looked at him and spoke to him, he betrayed an awkward self-consciousness, caused by the struggle of his love to express itself and his physical inability to express it. he learned to adjust himself in many ways to his new mode of life. it was borne in upon him that he must let his master's dogs alone. yet his dominant nature asserted itself, and he had first to thrash them into an acknowledgment of his superiority and leadership. this accomplished, he had little trouble with them. they gave trail to him when he came and went or walked among them, and when he asserted his will they obeyed. in the same way, he came to tolerate matt--as a possession of his master. his master rarely fed him. matt did that, it was his business; yet white fang divined that it was his master's food he ate and that it was his master who thus fed him vicariously. matt it was who tried to put him into the harness and make him haul sled with the other dogs. but matt failed. it was not until weedon scott put the harness on white fang and worked him, that he understood. he took it as his master's will that matt should drive him and work him just as he drove and worked his master's other dogs. different from the mackenzie toboggans were the klondike sleds with runners under them. and different was the method of driving the dogs. there was no fan-formation of the team. the dogs worked in single file, one behind another, hauling on double traces. and here, in the klondike, the leader was indeed the leader. the wisest as well as strongest dog was the leader, and the team obeyed him and feared him. that white fang should quickly gain this post was inevitable. he could not be satisfied with less, as matt learned after much inconvenience and trouble. white fang picked out the post for himself, and matt backed his judgment with strong language after the experiment had been tried. but, though he worked in the sled in the day, white fang did not forego the guarding of his master's property in the night. thus he was on duty all the time, ever vigilant and faithful, the most valuable of all the dogs. "makin' free to spit out what's in me," matt said one day, "i beg to state that you was a wise guy all right when you paid the price you did for that dog. you clean swindled beauty smith on top of pushin' his face in with your fist." a recrudescence of anger glinted in weedon scott's grey eyes, and he muttered savagely, "the beast!" in the late spring a great trouble came to white fang. without warning, the love-master disappeared. there had been warning, but white fang was unversed in such things and did not understand the packing of a grip. he remembered afterwards that his packing had preceded the master's disappearance; but at the time he suspected nothing. that night he waited for the master to return. at midnight the chill wind that blew drove him to shelter at the rear of the cabin. there he drowsed, only half asleep, his ears keyed for the first sound of the familiar step. but, at two in the morning, his anxiety drove him out to the cold front stoop, where he crouched, and waited. but no master came. in the morning the door opened and matt stepped outside. white fang gazed at him wistfully. there was no common speech by which he might learn what he wanted to know. the days came and went, but never the master. white fang, who had never known sickness in his life, became sick. he became very sick, so sick that matt was finally compelled to bring him inside the cabin. also, in writing to his employer, matt devoted a postscript to white fang. weedon scott reading the letter down in circle city, came upon the following: "that dam wolf won't work. won't eat. aint got no spunk left. all the dogs is licking him. wants to know what has become of you, and i don't know how to tell him. mebbe he is going to die." it was as matt had said. white fang had ceased eating, lost heart, and allowed every dog of the team to thrash him. in the cabin he lay on the floor near the stove, without interest in food, in matt, nor in life. matt might talk gently to him or swear at him, it was all the same; he never did more than turn his dull eyes upon the man, then drop his head back to its customary position on his fore-paws. and then, one night, matt, reading to himself with moving lips and mumbled sounds, was startled by a low whine from white fang. he had got upon his feet, his ears cocked towards the door, and he was listening intently. a moment later, matt heard a footstep. the door opened, and weedon scott stepped in. the two men shook hands. then scott looked around the room. "where's the wolf?" he asked. then he discovered him, standing where he had been lying, near to the stove. he had not rushed forward after the manner of other dogs. he stood, watching and waiting. "holy smoke!" matt exclaimed. "look at 'm wag his tail!" weedon scott strode half across the room toward him, at the same time calling him. white fang came to him, not with a great bound, yet quickly. he was awakened from self-consciousness, but as he drew near, his eyes took on a strange expression. something, an incommunicable vastness of feeling, rose up into his eyes as a light and shone forth. "he never looked at me that way all the time you was gone!" matt commented. weedon scott did not hear. he was squatting down on his heels, face to face with white fang and petting him--rubbing at the roots of the ears, making long caressing strokes down the neck to the shoulders, tapping the spine gently with the balls of his fingers. and white fang was growling responsively, the crooning note of the growl more pronounced than ever. but that was not all. what of his joy, the great love in him, ever surging and struggling to express itself, succeeded in finding a new mode of expression. he suddenly thrust his head forward and nudged his way in between the master's arm and body. and here, confined, hidden from view all except his ears, no longer growling, he continued to nudge and snuggle. the two men looked at each other. scott's eyes were shining. "gosh!" said matt in an awe-stricken voice. a moment later, when he had recovered himself, he said, "i always insisted that wolf was a dog. look at 'm!" with the return of the love-master, white fang's recovery was rapid. two nights and a day he spent in the cabin. then he sallied forth. the sleddogs had forgotten his prowess. they remembered only the latest, which was his weakness and sickness. at the sight of him as he came out of the cabin, they sprang upon him. "talk about your rough-houses," matt murmured gleefully, standing in the doorway and looking on. "give 'm hell, you wolf! give 'm hell!--an' then some!" white fang did not need the encouragement. the return of the love-master was enough. life was flowing through him again, splendid and indomitable. he fought from sheer joy, finding in it an expression of much that he felt and that otherwise was without speech. there could be but one ending. the team dispersed in ignominious defeat, and it was not until after dark that the dogs came sneaking back, one by one, by meekness and humility signifying their fealty to white fang. having learned to snuggle, white fang was guilty of it often. it was the final word. he could not go beyond it. the one thing of which he had always been particularly jealous was his head. he had always disliked to have it touched. it was the wild in him, the fear of hurt and of the trap, that had given rise to the panicky impulses to avoid contacts. it was the mandate of his instinct that that head must be free. and now, with the love-master, his snuggling was the deliberate act of putting himself into a position of hopeless helplessness. it was an expression of perfect confidence, of absolute self-surrender, as though he said: "i put myself into thy hands. work thou thy will with me." one night, not long after the return, scott and matt sat at a game of cribbage preliminary to going to bed. "fifteen-two, fifteen-four an' a pair makes six," matt was pegging up, when there was an outcry and sound of snarling without. they looked at each other as they started to rise to their feet. "the wolf's nailed somebody," matt said. a wild scream of fear and anguish hastened them. "bring a light!" scott shouted, as he sprang outside. matt followed with the lamp, and by its light they saw a man lying on his back in the snow. his arms were folded, one above the other, across his face and throat. thus he was trying to shield himself from white fang's teeth. and there was need for it. white fang was in a rage, wickedly making his attack on the most vulnerable spot. from shoulder to wrist of the crossed arms, the coat-sleeve, blue flannel shirt and undershirt were ripped in rags, while the arms themselves were terribly slashed and streaming blood. all this the two men saw in the first instant. the next instant weedon scott had white fang by the throat and was dragging him clear. white fang struggled and snarled, but made no attempt to bite, while he quickly quieted down at a sharp word from the master. matt helped the man to his feet. as he arose he lowered his crossed arms, exposing the bestial face of beauty smith. the dog-musher let go of him precipitately, with action similar to that of a man who has picked up live fire. beauty smith blinked in the lamplight and looked about him. he caught sight of white fang and terror rushed into his face. at the same moment matt noticed two objects lying in the snow. he held the lamp close to them, indicating them with his toe for his employer's benefit--a steel dog-chain and a stout club. weedon scott saw and nodded. not a word was spoken. the dog-musher laid his hand on beauty smith's shoulder and faced him to the right about. no word needed to be spoken. beauty smith started. in the meantime the love-master was patting white fang and talking to him. "tried to steal you, eh? and you wouldn't have it! well, well, he made a mistake, didn't he?" "must 'a' thought he had hold of seventeen devils," the dog-musher sniggered. white fang, still wrought up and bristling, growled and growled, the hair slowly lying down, the crooning note remote and dim, but growing in his throat. part v chapter i--the long trail it was in the air. white fang sensed the coming calamity, even before there was tangible evidence of it. in vague ways it was borne in upon him that a change was impending. he knew not how nor why, yet he got his feel of the oncoming event from the gods themselves. in ways subtler than they knew, they betrayed their intentions to the wolf-dog that haunted the cabin-stoop, and that, though he never came inside the cabin, knew what went on inside their brains. "listen to that, will you!" the dog-musher exclaimed at supper one night. weedon scott listened. through the door came a low, anxious whine, like a sobbing under the breath that had just grown audible. then came the long sniff, as white fang reassured himself that his god was still inside and had not yet taken himself off in mysterious and solitary flight. "i do believe that wolf's on to you," the dog-musher said. weedon scott looked across at his companion with eyes that almost pleaded, though this was given the lie by his words. "what the devil can i do with a wolf in california?" he demanded. "that's what i say," matt answered. "what the devil can you do with a wolf in california?" but this did not satisfy weedon scott. the other seemed to be judging him in a non-committal sort of way. "white man's dogs would have no show against him," scott went on. "he'd kill them on sight. if he didn't bankrupt me with damage suits, the authorities would take him away from me and electrocute him." "he's a downright murderer, i know," was the dog-musher's comment. weedon scott looked at him suspiciously. "it would never do," he said decisively. "it would never do!" matt concurred. "why you'd have to hire a man 'specially to take care of 'm." the other's suspicion was allayed. he nodded cheerfully. in the silence that followed, the low, half-sobbing whine was heard at the door and then the long, questing sniff. "there's no denyin' he thinks a hell of a lot of you," matt said. the other glared at him in sudden wrath. "damn it all, man! i know my own mind and what's best!" "i'm agreein' with you, only . . . " "only what?" scott snapped out. "only . . . " the dog-musher began softly, then changed his mind and betrayed a rising anger of his own. "well, you needn't get so all-fired het up about it. judgin' by your actions one'd think you didn't know your own mind." weedon scott debated with himself for a while, and then said more gently: "you are right, matt. i don't know my own mind, and that's what's the trouble." "why, it would be rank ridiculousness for me to take that dog along," he broke out after another pause. "i'm agreein' with you," was matt's answer, and again his employer was not quite satisfied with him. "but how in the name of the great sardanapolis he knows you're goin' is what gets me," the dog-musher continued innocently. "it's beyond me, matt," scott answered, with a mournful shake of the head. then came the day when, through the open cabin door, white fang saw the fatal grip on the floor and the love-master packing things into it. also, there were comings and goings, and the erstwhile placid atmosphere of the cabin was vexed with strange perturbations and unrest. here was indubitable evidence. white fang had already scented it. he now reasoned it. his god was preparing for another flight. and since he had not taken him with him before, so, now, he could look to be left behind. that night he lifted the long wolf-howl. as he had howled, in his puppy days, when he fled back from the wild to the village to find it vanished and naught but a rubbish-heap to mark the site of grey beaver's tepee, so now he pointed his muzzle to the cold stars and told to them his woe. inside the cabin the two men had just gone to bed. "he's gone off his food again," matt remarked from his bunk. there was a grunt from weedon scott's bunk, and a stir of blankets. "from the way he cut up the other time you went away, i wouldn't wonder this time but what he died." the blankets in the other bunk stirred irritably. "oh, shut up!" scott cried out through the darkness. "you nag worse than a woman." "i'm agreein' with you," the dog-musher answered, and weedon scott was not quite sure whether or not the other had snickered. the next day white fang's anxiety and restlessness were even more pronounced. he dogged his master's heels whenever he left the cabin, and haunted the front stoop when he remained inside. through the open door he could catch glimpses of the luggage on the floor. the grip had been joined by two large canvas bags and a box. matt was rolling the master's blankets and fur robe inside a small tarpaulin. white fang whined as he watched the operation. later on two indians arrived. he watched them closely as they shouldered the luggage and were led off down the hill by matt, who carried the bedding and the grip. but white fang did not follow them. the master was still in the cabin. after a time, matt returned. the master came to the door and called white fang inside. "you poor devil," he said gently, rubbing white fang's ears and tapping his spine. "i'm hitting the long trail, old man, where you cannot follow. now give me a growl--the last, good, good-bye growl." but white fang refused to growl. instead, and after a wistful, searching look, he snuggled in, burrowing his head out of sight between the master's arm and body. "there she blows!" matt cried. from the yukon arose the hoarse bellowing of a river steamboat. "you've got to cut it short. be sure and lock the front door. i'll go out the back. get a move on!" the two doors slammed at the same moment, and weedon scott waited for matt to come around to the front. from inside the door came a low whining and sobbing. then there were long, deep-drawn sniffs. "you must take good care of him, matt," scott said, as they started down the hill. "write and let me know how he gets along." "sure," the dog-musher answered. "but listen to that, will you!" both men stopped. white fang was howling as dogs howl when their masters lie dead. he was voicing an utter woe, his cry bursting upward in great heart-breaking rushes, dying down into quavering misery, and bursting upward again with a rush upon rush of grief. the _aurora_ was the first steamboat of the year for the outside, and her decks were jammed with prosperous adventurers and broken gold seekers, all equally as mad to get to the outside as they had been originally to get to the inside. near the gang-plank, scott was shaking hands with matt, who was preparing to go ashore. but matt's hand went limp in the other's grasp as his gaze shot past and remained fixed on something behind him. scott turned to see. sitting on the deck several feet away and watching wistfully was white fang. the dog-musher swore softly, in awe-stricken accents. scott could only look in wonder. "did you lock the front door?" matt demanded. the other nodded, and asked, "how about the back?" "you just bet i did," was the fervent reply. white fang flattened his ears ingratiatingly, but remained where he was, making no attempt to approach. "i'll have to take 'm ashore with me." matt made a couple of steps toward white fang, but the latter slid away from him. the dog-musher made a rush of it, and white fang dodged between the legs of a group of men. ducking, turning, doubling, he slid about the deck, eluding the other's efforts to capture him. but when the love-master spoke, white fang came to him with prompt obedience. "won't come to the hand that's fed 'm all these months," the dog-musher muttered resentfully. "and you--you ain't never fed 'm after them first days of gettin' acquainted. i'm blamed if i can see how he works it out that you're the boss." scott, who had been patting white fang, suddenly bent closer and pointed out fresh-made cuts on his muzzle, and a gash between the eyes. matt bent over and passed his hand along white fang's belly. "we plumb forgot the window. he's all cut an' gouged underneath. must 'a' butted clean through it, b'gosh!" but weedon scott was not listening. he was thinking rapidly. the _aurora's_ whistle hooted a final announcement of departure. men were scurrying down the gang-plank to the shore. matt loosened the bandana from his own neck and started to put it around white fang's. scott grasped the dog-musher's hand. "good-bye, matt, old man. about the wolf--you needn't write. you see, i've . . . !" "what!" the dog-musher exploded. "you don't mean to say . . .?" "the very thing i mean. here's your bandana. i'll write to you about him." matt paused halfway down the gang-plank. "he'll never stand the climate!" he shouted back. "unless you clip 'm in warm weather!" the gang-plank was hauled in, and the _aurora_ swung out from the bank. weedon scott waved a last good-bye. then he turned and bent over white fang, standing by his side. "now growl, damn you, growl," he said, as he patted the responsive head and rubbed the flattening ears. chapter ii--the southland white fang landed from the steamer in san francisco. he was appalled. deep in him, below any reasoning process or act of consciousness, he had associated power with godhead. and never had the white men seemed such marvellous gods as now, when he trod the slimy pavement of san francisco. the log cabins he had known were replaced by towering buildings. the streets were crowded with perils--waggons, carts, automobiles; great, straining horses pulling huge trucks; and monstrous cable and electric cars hooting and clanging through the midst, screeching their insistent menace after the manner of the lynxes he had known in the northern woods. all this was the manifestation of power. through it all, behind it all, was man, governing and controlling, expressing himself, as of old, by his mastery over matter. it was colossal, stunning. white fang was awed. fear sat upon him. as in his cubhood he had been made to feel his smallness and puniness on the day he first came in from the wild to the village of grey beaver, so now, in his full-grown stature and pride of strength, he was made to feel small and puny. and there were so many gods! he was made dizzy by the swarming of them. the thunder of the streets smote upon his ears. he was bewildered by the tremendous and endless rush and movement of things. as never before, he felt his dependence on the love-master, close at whose heels he followed, no matter what happened never losing sight of him. but white fang was to have no more than a nightmare vision of the city--an experience that was like a bad dream, unreal and terrible, that haunted him for long after in his dreams. he was put into a baggage-car by the master, chained in a corner in the midst of heaped trunks and valises. here a squat and brawny god held sway, with much noise, hurling trunks and boxes about, dragging them in through the door and tossing them into the piles, or flinging them out of the door, smashing and crashing, to other gods who awaited them. and here, in this inferno of luggage, was white fang deserted by the master. or at least white fang thought he was deserted, until he smelled out the master's canvas clothes-bags alongside of him, and proceeded to mount guard over them. "'bout time you come," growled the god of the car, an hour later, when weedon scott appeared at the door. "that dog of yourn won't let me lay a finger on your stuff." white fang emerged from the car. he was astonished. the nightmare city was gone. the car had been to him no more than a room in a house, and when he had entered it the city had been all around him. in the interval the city had disappeared. the roar of it no longer dinned upon his ears. before him was smiling country, streaming with sunshine, lazy with quietude. but he had little time to marvel at the transformation. he accepted it as he accepted all the unaccountable doings and manifestations of the gods. it was their way. there was a carriage waiting. a man and a woman approached the master. the woman's arms went out and clutched the master around the neck--a hostile act! the next moment weedon scott had torn loose from the embrace and closed with white fang, who had become a snarling, raging demon. "it's all right, mother," scott was saying as he kept tight hold of white fang and placated him. "he thought you were going to injure me, and he wouldn't stand for it. it's all right. it's all right. he'll learn soon enough." "and in the meantime i may be permitted to love my son when his dog is not around," she laughed, though she was pale and weak from the fright. she looked at white fang, who snarled and bristled and glared malevolently. "he'll have to learn, and he shall, without postponement," scott said. he spoke softly to white fang until he had quieted him, then his voice became firm. "down, sir! down with you!" this had been one of the things taught him by the master, and white fang obeyed, though he lay down reluctantly and sullenly. "now, mother." scott opened his arms to her, but kept his eyes on white fang. "down!" he warned. "down!" white fang, bristling silently, half-crouching as he rose, sank back and watched the hostile act repeated. but no harm came of it, nor of the embrace from the strange man-god that followed. then the clothes-bags were taken into the carriage, the strange gods and the love-master followed, and white fang pursued, now running vigilantly behind, now bristling up to the running horses and warning them that he was there to see that no harm befell the god they dragged so swiftly across the earth. at the end of fifteen minutes, the carriage swung in through a stone gateway and on between a double row of arched and interlacing walnut trees. on either side stretched lawns, their broad sweep broken here and there by great sturdy-limbed oaks. in the near distance, in contrast with the young-green of the tended grass, sunburnt hay-fields showed tan and gold; while beyond were the tawny hills and upland pastures. from the head of the lawn, on the first soft swell from the valley-level, looked down the deep-porched, many-windowed house. little opportunity was given white fang to see all this. hardly had the carriage entered the grounds, when he was set upon by a sheep-dog, brighteyed, sharp-muzzled, righteously indignant and angry. it was between him and the master, cutting him off. white fang snarled no warning, but his hair bristled as he made his silent and deadly rush. this rush was never completed. he halted with awkward abruptness, with stiff fore-legs bracing himself against his momentum, almost sitting down on his haunches, so desirous was he of avoiding contact with the dog he was in the act of attacking. it was a female, and the law of his kind thrust a barrier between. for him to attack her would require nothing less than a violation of his instinct. but with the sheep-dog it was otherwise. being a female, she possessed no such instinct. on the other hand, being a sheep-dog, her instinctive fear of the wild, and especially of the wolf, was unusually keen. white fang was to her a wolf, the hereditary marauder who had preyed upon her flocks from the time sheep were first herded and guarded by some dim ancestor of hers. and so, as he abandoned his rush at her and braced himself to avoid the contact, she sprang upon him. he snarled involuntarily as he felt her teeth in his shoulder, but beyond this made no offer to hurt her. he backed away, stiff-legged with self-consciousness, and tried to go around her. he dodged this way and that, and curved and turned, but to no purpose. she remained always between him and the way he wanted to go. "here, collie!" called the strange man in the carriage. weedon scott laughed. "never mind, father. it is good discipline. white fang will have to learn many things, and it's just as well that he begins now. he'll adjust himself all right." the carriage drove on, and still collie blocked white fang's way. he tried to outrun her by leaving the drive and circling across the lawn but she ran on the inner and smaller circle, and was always there, facing him with her two rows of gleaming teeth. back he circled, across the drive to the other lawn, and again she headed him off. the carriage was bearing the master away. white fang caught glimpses of it disappearing amongst the trees. the situation was desperate. he essayed another circle. she followed, running swiftly. and then, suddenly, he turned upon her. it was his old fighting trick. shoulder to shoulder, he struck her squarely. not only was she overthrown. so fast had she been running that she rolled along, now on her back, now on her side, as she struggled to stop, clawing gravel with her feet and crying shrilly her hurt pride and indignation. white fang did not wait. the way was clear, and that was all he had wanted. she took after him, never ceasing her outcry. it was the straightaway now, and when it came to real running, white fang could teach her things. she ran frantically, hysterically, straining to the utmost, advertising the effort she was making with every leap: and all the time white fang slid smoothly away from her silently, without effort, gliding like a ghost over the ground. as he rounded the house to the _porte-cochere_, he came upon the carriage. it had stopped, and the master was alighting. at this moment, still running at top speed, white fang became suddenly aware of an attack from the side. it was a deer-hound rushing upon him. white fang tried to face it. but he was going too fast, and the hound was too close. it struck him on the side; and such was his forward momentum and the unexpectedness of it, white fang was hurled to the ground and rolled clear over. he came out of the tangle a spectacle of malignancy, ears flattened back, lips writhing, nose wrinkling, his teeth clipping together as the fangs barely missed the hound's soft throat. the master was running up, but was too far away; and it was collie that saved the hound's life. before white fang could spring in and deliver the fatal stroke, and just as he was in the act of springing in, collie arrived. she had been out-manoeuvred and out-run, to say nothing of her having been unceremoniously tumbled in the gravel, and her arrival was like that of a tornado--made up of offended dignity, justifiable wrath, and instinctive hatred for this marauder from the wild. she struck white fang at right angles in the midst of his spring, and again he was knocked off his feet and rolled over. the next moment the master arrived, and with one hand held white fang, while the father called off the dogs. "i say, this is a pretty warm reception for a poor lone wolf from the arctic," the master said, while white fang calmed down under his caressing hand. "in all his life he's only been known once to go off his feet, and here he's been rolled twice in thirty seconds." the carriage had driven away, and other strange gods had appeared from out the house. some of these stood respectfully at a distance; but two of them, women, perpetrated the hostile act of clutching the master around the neck. white fang, however, was beginning to tolerate this act. no harm seemed to come of it, while the noises the gods made were certainly not threatening. these gods also made overtures to white fang, but he warned them off with a snarl, and the master did likewise with word of mouth. at such times white fang leaned in close against the master's legs and received reassuring pats on the head. the hound, under the command, "dick! lie down, sir!" had gone up the steps and lain down to one side of the porch, still growling and keeping a sullen watch on the intruder. collie had been taken in charge by one of the woman-gods, who held arms around her neck and petted and caressed her; but collie was very much perplexed and worried, whining and restless, outraged by the permitted presence of this wolf and confident that the gods were making a mistake. all the gods started up the steps to enter the house. white fang followed closely at the master's heels. dick, on the porch, growled, and white fang, on the steps, bristled and growled back. "take collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out," suggested scott's father. "after that they'll be friends." "then white fang, to show his friendship, will have to be chief mourner at the funeral," laughed the master. the elder scott looked incredulously, first at white fang, then at dick, and finally at his son. "you mean . . .?" weedon nodded his head. "i mean just that. you'd have a dead dick inside one minute--two minutes at the farthest." he turned to white fang. "come on, you wolf. it's you that'll have to come inside." white fang walked stiff-legged up the steps and across the porch, with tail rigidly erect, keeping his eyes on dick to guard against a flank attack, and at the same time prepared for whatever fierce manifestation of the unknown that might pounce out upon him from the interior of the house. but no thing of fear pounced out, and when he had gained the inside he scouted carefully around, looking at it and finding it not. then he lay down with a contented grunt at the master's feet, observing all that went on, ever ready to spring to his feet and fight for life with the terrors he felt must lurk under the trap-roof of the dwelling. chapter iii--the god's domain not only was white fang adaptable by nature, but he had travelled much, and knew the meaning and necessity of adjustment. here, in sierra vista, which was the name of judge scott's place, white fang quickly began to make himself at home. he had no further serious trouble with the dogs. they knew more about the ways of the southland gods than did he, and in their eyes he had qualified when he accompanied the gods inside the house. wolf that he was, and unprecedented as it was, the gods had sanctioned his presence, and they, the dogs of the gods, could only recognise this sanction. dick, perforce, had to go through a few stiff formalities at first, after which he calmly accepted white fang as an addition to the premises. had dick had his way, they would have been good friends; but white fang was averse to friendship. all he asked of other dogs was to be let alone. his whole life he had kept aloof from his kind, and he still desired to keep aloof. dick's overtures bothered him, so he snarled dick away. in the north he had learned the lesson that he must let the master's dogs alone, and he did not forget that lesson now. but he insisted on his own privacy and self-seclusion, and so thoroughly ignored dick that that good-natured creature finally gave him up and scarcely took as much interest in him as in the hitching-post near the stable. not so with collie. while she accepted him because it was the mandate of the gods, that was no reason that she should leave him in peace. woven into her being was the memory of countless crimes he and his had perpetrated against her ancestry. not in a day nor a generation were the ravaged sheepfolds to be forgotten. all this was a spur to her, pricking her to retaliation. she could not fly in the face of the gods who permitted him, but that did not prevent her from making life miserable for him in petty ways. a feud, ages old, was between them, and she, for one, would see to it that he was reminded. so collie took advantage of her sex to pick upon white fang and maltreat him. his instinct would not permit him to attack her, while her persistence would not permit him to ignore her. when she rushed at him he turned his fur-protected shoulder to her sharp teeth and walked away stiff-legged and stately. when she forced him too hard, he was compelled to go about in a circle, his shoulder presented to her, his head turned from her, and on his face and in his eyes a patient and bored expression. sometimes, however, a nip on his hind-quarters hastened his retreat and made it anything but stately. but as a rule he managed to maintain a dignity that was almost solemnity. he ignored her existence whenever it was possible, and made it a point to keep out of her way. when he saw or heard her coming, he got up and walked off. there was much in other matters for white fang to learn. life in the northland was simplicity itself when compared with the complicated affairs of sierra vista. first of all, he had to learn the family of the master. in a way he was prepared to do this. as mit-sah and kloo-kooch had belonged to grey beaver, sharing his food, his fire, and his blankets, so now, at sierra vista, belonged to the love-master all the denizens of the house. but in this matter there was a difference, and many differences. sierra vista was a far vaster affair than the tepee of grey beaver. there were many persons to be considered. there was judge scott, and there was his wife. there were the master's two sisters, beth and mary. there was his wife, alice, and then there were his children, weedon and maud, toddlers of four and six. there was no way for anybody to tell him about all these people, and of blood-ties and relationship he knew nothing whatever and never would be capable of knowing. yet he quickly worked it out that all of them belonged to the master. then, by observation, whenever opportunity offered, by study of action, speech, and the very intonations of the voice, he slowly learned the intimacy and the degree of favour they enjoyed with the master. and by this ascertained standard, white fang treated them accordingly. what was of value to the master he valued; what was dear to the master was to be cherished by white fang and guarded carefully. thus it was with the two children. all his life he had disliked children. he hated and feared their hands. the lessons were not tender that he had learned of their tyranny and cruelty in the days of the indian villages. when weedon and maud had first approached him, he growled warningly and looked malignant. a cuff from the master and a sharp word had then compelled him to permit their caresses, though he growled and growled under their tiny hands, and in the growl there was no crooning note. later, he observed that the boy and girl were of great value in the master's eyes. then it was that no cuff nor sharp word was necessary before they could pat him. yet white fang was never effusively affectionate. he yielded to the master's children with an ill but honest grace, and endured their fooling as one would endure a painful operation. when he could no longer endure, he would get up and stalk determinedly away from them. but after a time, he grew even to like the children. still he was not demonstrative. he would not go up to them. on the other hand, instead of walking away at sight of them, he waited for them to come to him. and still later, it was noticed that a pleased light came into his eyes when he saw them approaching, and that he looked after them with an appearance of curious regret when they left him for other amusements. all this was a matter of development, and took time. next in his regard, after the children, was judge scott. there were two reasons, possibly, for this. first, he was evidently a valuable possession of the master's, and next, he was undemonstrative. white fang liked to lie at his feet on the wide porch when he read the newspaper, from time to time favouring white fang with a look or a word--untroublesome tokens that he recognised white fang's presence and existence. but this was only when the master was not around. when the master appeared, all other beings ceased to exist so far as white fang was concerned. white fang allowed all the members of the family to pet him and make much of him; but he never gave to them what he gave to the master. no caress of theirs could put the love-croon into his throat, and, try as they would, they could never persuade him into snuggling against them. this expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone. in fact, he never regarded the members of the family in any other light than possessions of the love-master. also white fang had early come to differentiate between the family and the servants of the household. the latter were afraid of him, while he merely refrained from attacking them. this because he considered that they were likewise possessions of the master. between white fang and them existed a neutrality and no more. they cooked for the master and washed the dishes and did other things just as matt had done up in the klondike. they were, in short, appurtenances of the household. outside the household there was even more for white fang to learn. the master's domain was wide and complex, yet it had its metes and bounds. the land itself ceased at the county road. outside was the common domain of all gods--the roads and streets. then inside other fences were the particular domains of other gods. a myriad laws governed all these things and determined conduct; yet he did not know the speech of the gods, nor was there any way for him to learn save by experience. he obeyed his natural impulses until they ran him counter to some law. when this had been done a few times, he learned the law and after that observed it. but most potent in his education was the cuff of the master's hand, the censure of the master's voice. because of white fang's very great love, a cuff from the master hurt him far more than any beating grey beaver or beauty smith had ever given him. they had hurt only the flesh of him; beneath the flesh the spirit had still raged, splendid and invincible. but with the master the cuff was always too light to hurt the flesh. yet it went deeper. it was an expression of the master's disapproval, and white fang's spirit wilted under it. in point of fact, the cuff was rarely administered. the master's voice was sufficient. by it white fang knew whether he did right or not. by it he trimmed his conduct and adjusted his actions. it was the compass by which he steered and learned to chart the manners of a new land and life. in the northland, the only domesticated animal was the dog. all other animals lived in the wild, and were, when not too formidable, lawful spoil for any dog. all his days white fang had foraged among the live things for food. it did not enter his head that in the southland it was otherwise. but this he was to learn early in his residence in santa clara valley. sauntering around the corner of the house in the early morning, he came upon a chicken that had escaped from the chicken-yard. white fang's natural impulse was to eat it. a couple of bounds, a flash of teeth and a frightened squawk, and he had scooped in the adventurous fowl. it was farm-bred and fat and tender; and white fang licked his chops and decided that such fare was good. later in the day, he chanced upon another stray chicken near the stables. one of the grooms ran to the rescue. he did not know white fang's breed, so for weapon he took a light buggy-whip. at the first cut of the whip, white fang left the chicken for the man. a club might have stopped white fang, but not a whip. silently, without flinching, he took a second cut in his forward rush, and as he leaped for the throat the groom cried out, "my god!" and staggered backward. he dropped the whip and shielded his throat with his arms. in consequence, his forearm was ripped open to the bone. the man was badly frightened. it was not so much white fang's ferocity as it was his silence that unnerved the groom. still protecting his throat and face with his torn and bleeding arm, he tried to retreat to the barn. and it would have gone hard with him had not collie appeared on the scene. as she had saved dick's life, she now saved the groom's. she rushed upon white fang in frenzied wrath. she had been right. she had known better than the blundering gods. all her suspicions were justified. here was the ancient marauder up to his old tricks again. the groom escaped into the stables, and white fang backed away before collie's wicked teeth, or presented his shoulder to them and circled round and round. but collie did not give over, as was her wont, after a decent interval of chastisement. on the contrary, she grew more excited and angry every moment, until, in the end, white fang flung dignity to the winds and frankly fled away from her across the fields. "he'll learn to leave chickens alone," the master said. "but i can't give him the lesson until i catch him in the act." two nights later came the act, but on a more generous scale than the master had anticipated. white fang had observed closely the chicken-yards and the habits of the chickens. in the night-time, after they had gone to roost, he climbed to the top of a pile of newly hauled lumber. from there he gained the roof of a chicken-house, passed over the ridgepole and dropped to the ground inside. a moment later he was inside the house, and the slaughter began. in the morning, when the master came out on to the porch, fifty white leghorn hens, laid out in a row by the groom, greeted his eyes. he whistled to himself, softly, first with surprise, and then, at the end, with admiration. his eyes were likewise greeted by white fang, but about the latter there were no signs of shame nor guilt. he carried himself with pride, as though, forsooth, he had achieved a deed praiseworthy and meritorious. there was about him no consciousness of sin. the master's lips tightened as he faced the disagreeable task. then he talked harshly to the unwitting culprit, and in his voice there was nothing but godlike wrath. also, he held white fang's nose down to the slain hens, and at the same time cuffed him soundly. white fang never raided a chicken-roost again. it was against the law, and he had learned it. then the master took him into the chicken-yards. white fang's natural impulse, when he saw the live food fluttering about him and under his very nose, was to spring upon it. he obeyed the impulse, but was checked by the master's voice. they continued in the yards for half an hour. time and again the impulse surged over white fang, and each time, as he yielded to it, he was checked by the master's voice. thus it was he learned the law, and ere he left the domain of the chickens, he had learned to ignore their existence. "you can never cure a chicken-killer." judge scott shook his head sadly at luncheon table, when his son narrated the lesson he had given white fang. "once they've got the habit and the taste of blood . . ." again he shook his head sadly. but weedon scott did not agree with his father. "i'll tell you what i'll do," he challenged finally. "i'll lock white fang in with the chickens all afternoon." "but think of the chickens," objected the judge. "and furthermore," the son went on, "for every chicken he kills, i'll pay you one dollar gold coin of the realm." "but you should penalise father, too," interpose beth. her sister seconded her, and a chorus of approval arose from around the table. judge scott nodded his head in agreement. "all right." weedon scott pondered for a moment. "and if, at the end of the afternoon white fang hasn't harmed a chicken, for every ten minutes of the time he has spent in the yard, you will have to say to him, gravely and with deliberation, just as if you were sitting on the bench and solemnly passing judgment, 'white fang, you are smarter than i thought.'" from hidden points of vantage the family watched the performance. but it was a fizzle. locked in the yard and there deserted by the master, white fang lay down and went to sleep. once he got up and walked over to the trough for a drink of water. the chickens he calmly ignored. so far as he was concerned they did not exist. at four o'clock he executed a running jump, gained the roof of the chicken-house and leaped to the ground outside, whence he sauntered gravely to the house. he had learned the law. and on the porch, before the delighted family, judge scott, face to face with white fang, said slowly and solemnly, sixteen times, "white fang, you are smarter than i thought." but it was the multiplicity of laws that befuddled white fang and often brought him into disgrace. he had to learn that he must not touch the chickens that belonged to other gods. then there were cats, and rabbits, and turkeys; all these he must let alone. in fact, when he had but partly learned the law, his impression was that he must leave all live things alone. out in the back-pasture, a quail could flutter up under his nose unharmed. all tense and trembling with eagerness and desire, he mastered his instinct and stood still. he was obeying the will of the gods. and then, one day, again out in the back-pasture, he saw dick start a jackrabbit and run it. the master himself was looking on and did not interfere. nay, he encouraged white fang to join in the chase. and thus he learned that there was no taboo on jackrabbits. in the end he worked out the complete law. between him and all domestic animals there must be no hostilities. if not amity, at least neutrality must obtain. but the other animals--the squirrels, and quail, and cottontails, were creatures of the wild who had never yielded allegiance to man. they were the lawful prey of any dog. it was only the tame that the gods protected, and between the tame deadly strife was not permitted. the gods held the power of life and death over their subjects, and the gods were jealous of their power. life was complex in the santa clara valley after the simplicities of the northland. and the chief thing demanded by these intricacies of civilisation was control, restraint--a poise of self that was as delicate as the fluttering of gossamer wings and at the same time as rigid as steel. life had a thousand faces, and white fang found he must meet them all--thus, when he went to town, in to san jose, running behind the carriage or loafing about the streets when the carriage stopped. life flowed past him, deep and wide and varied, continually impinging upon his senses, demanding of him instant and endless adjustments and correspondences, and compelling him, almost always, to suppress his natural impulses. there were butcher-shops where meat hung within reach. this meat he must not touch. there were cats at the houses the master visited that must be let alone. and there were dogs everywhere that snarled at him and that he must not attack. and then, on the crowded sidewalks there were persons innumerable whose attention he attracted. they would stop and look at him, point him out to one another, examine him, talk of him, and, worst of all, pat him. and these perilous contacts from all these strange hands he must endure. yet this endurance he achieved. furthermore, he got over being awkward and self-conscious. in a lofty way he received the attentions of the multitudes of strange gods. with condescension he accepted their condescension. on the other hand, there was something about him that prevented great familiarity. they patted him on the head and passed on, contented and pleased with their own daring. but it was not all easy for white fang. running behind the carriage in the outskirts of san jose, he encountered certain small boys who made a practice of flinging stones at him. yet he knew that it was not permitted him to pursue and drag them down. here he was compelled to violate his instinct of self-preservation, and violate it he did, for he was becoming tame and qualifying himself for civilisation. nevertheless, white fang was not quite satisfied with the arrangement. he had no abstract ideas about justice and fair play. but there is a certain sense of equity that resides in life, and it was this sense in him that resented the unfairness of his being permitted no defence against the stone-throwers. he forgot that in the covenant entered into between him and the gods they were pledged to care for him and defend him. but one day the master sprang from the carriage, whip in hand, and gave the stone-throwers a thrashing. after that they threw stones no more, and white fang understood and was satisfied. one other experience of similar nature was his. on the way to town, hanging around the saloon at the cross-roads, were three dogs that made a practice of rushing out upon him when he went by. knowing his deadly method of fighting, the master had never ceased impressing upon white fang the law that he must not fight. as a result, having learned the lesson well, white fang was hard put whenever he passed the cross-roads saloon. after the first rush, each time, his snarl kept the three dogs at a distance but they trailed along behind, yelping and bickering and insulting him. this endured for some time. the men at the saloon even urged the dogs on to attack white fang. one day they openly sicked the dogs on him. the master stopped the carriage. "go to it," he said to white fang. but white fang could not believe. he looked at the master, and he looked at the dogs. then he looked back eagerly and questioningly at the master. the master nodded his head. "go to them, old fellow. eat them up." white fang no longer hesitated. he turned and leaped silently among his enemies. all three faced him. there was a great snarling and growling, a clashing of teeth and a flurry of bodies. the dust of the road arose in a cloud and screened the battle. but at the end of several minutes two dogs were struggling in the dirt and the third was in full flight. he leaped a ditch, went through a rail fence, and fled across a field. white fang followed, sliding over the ground in wolf fashion and with wolf speed, swiftly and without noise, and in the centre of the field he dragged down and slew the dog. with this triple killing his main troubles with dogs ceased. the word went up and down the valley, and men saw to it that their dogs did not molest the fighting wolf. chapter iv--the call of kind the months came and went. there was plenty of food and no work in the southland, and white fang lived fat and prosperous and happy. not alone was he in the geographical southland, for he was in the southland of life. human kindness was like a sun shining upon him, and he flourished like a flower planted in good soil. and yet he remained somehow different from other dogs. he knew the law even better than did the dogs that had known no other life, and he observed the law more punctiliously; but still there was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept. he never chummed with other dogs. lonely he had lived, so far as his kind was concerned, and lonely he would continue to live. in his puppyhood, under the persecution of lip-lip and the puppy-pack, and in his fighting days with beauty smith, he had acquired a fixed aversion for dogs. the natural course of his life had been diverted, and, recoiling from his kind, he had clung to the human. besides, all southland dogs looked upon him with suspicion. he aroused in them their instinctive fear of the wild, and they greeted him always with snarl and growl and belligerent hatred. he, on the other hand, learned that it was not necessary to use his teeth upon them. his naked fangs and writhing lips were uniformly efficacious, rarely failing to send a bellowing on-rushing dog back on its haunches. but there was one trial in white fang's life--collie. she never gave him a moment's peace. she was not so amenable to the law as he. she defied all efforts of the master to make her become friends with white fang. ever in his ears was sounding her sharp and nervous snarl. she had never forgiven him the chicken-killing episode, and persistently held to the belief that his intentions were bad. she found him guilty before the act, and treated him accordingly. she became a pest to him, like a policeman following him around the stable and the hounds, and, if he even so much as glanced curiously at a pigeon or chicken, bursting into an outcry of indignation and wrath. his favourite way of ignoring her was to lie down, with his head on his fore-paws, and pretend sleep. this always dumfounded and silenced her. with the exception of collie, all things went well with white fang. he had learned control and poise, and he knew the law. he achieved a staidness, and calmness, and philosophic tolerance. he no longer lived in a hostile environment. danger and hurt and death did not lurk everywhere about him. in time, the unknown, as a thing of terror and menace ever impending, faded away. life was soft and easy. it flowed along smoothly, and neither fear nor foe lurked by the way. he missed the snow without being aware of it. "an unduly long summer," would have been his thought had he thought about it; as it was, he merely missed the snow in a vague, subconscious way. in the same fashion, especially in the heat of summer when he suffered from the sun, he experienced faint longings for the northland. their only effect upon him, however, was to make him uneasy and restless without his knowing what was the matter. white fang had never been very demonstrative. beyond his snuggling and the throwing of a crooning note into his love-growl, he had no way of expressing his love. yet it was given him to discover a third way. he had always been susceptible to the laughter of the gods. laughter had affected him with madness, made him frantic with rage. but he did not have it in him to be angry with the love-master, and when that god elected to laugh at him in a good-natured, bantering way, he was nonplussed. he could feel the pricking and stinging of the old anger as it strove to rise up in him, but it strove against love. he could not be angry; yet he had to do something. at first he was dignified, and the master laughed the harder. then he tried to be more dignified, and the master laughed harder than before. in the end, the master laughed him out of his dignity. his jaws slightly parted, his lips lifted a little, and a quizzical expression that was more love than humour came into his eyes. he had learned to laugh. likewise he learned to romp with the master, to be tumbled down and rolled over, and be the victim of innumerable rough tricks. in return he feigned anger, bristling and growling ferociously, and clipping his teeth together in snaps that had all the seeming of deadly intention. but he never forgot himself. those snaps were always delivered on the empty air. at the end of such a romp, when blow and cuff and snap and snarl were fast and furious, they would break off suddenly and stand several feet apart, glaring at each other. and then, just as suddenly, like the sun rising on a stormy sea, they would begin to laugh. this would always culminate with the master's arms going around white fang's neck and shoulders while the latter crooned and growled his love-song. but nobody else ever romped with white fang. he did not permit it. he stood on his dignity, and when they attempted it, his warning snarl and bristling mane were anything but playful. that he allowed the master these liberties was no reason that he should be a common dog, loving here and loving there, everybody's property for a romp and good time. he loved with single heart and refused to cheapen himself or his love. the master went out on horseback a great deal, and to accompany him was one of white fang's chief duties in life. in the northland he had evidenced his fealty by toiling in the harness; but there were no sleds in the southland, nor did dogs pack burdens on their backs. so he rendered fealty in the new way, by running with the master's horse. the longest day never played white fang out. his was the gait of the wolf, smooth, tireless and effortless, and at the end of fifty miles he would come in jauntily ahead of the horse. it was in connection with the riding, that white fang achieved one other mode of expression--remarkable in that he did it but twice in all his life. the first time occurred when the master was trying to teach a spirited thoroughbred the method of opening and closing gates without the rider's dismounting. time and again and many times he ranged the horse up to the gate in the effort to close it and each time the horse became frightened and backed and plunged away. it grew more nervous and excited every moment. when it reared, the master put the spurs to it and made it drop its fore-legs back to earth, whereupon it would begin kicking with its hind-legs. white fang watched the performance with increasing anxiety until he could contain himself no longer, when he sprang in front of the horse and barked savagely and warningly. though he often tried to bark thereafter, and the master encouraged him, he succeeded only once, and then it was not in the master's presence. a scamper across the pasture, a jackrabbit rising suddenly under the horse's feet, a violent sheer, a stumble, a fall to earth, and a broken leg for the master, was the cause of it. white fang sprang in a rage at the throat of the offending horse, but was checked by the master's voice. "home! go home!" the master commanded when he had ascertained his injury. white fang was disinclined to desert him. the master thought of writing a note, but searched his pockets vainly for pencil and paper. again he commanded white fang to go home. the latter regarded him wistfully, started away, then returned and whined softly. the master talked to him gently but seriously, and he cocked his ears, and listened with painful intentness. "that's all right, old fellow, you just run along home," ran the talk. "go on home and tell them what's happened to me. home with you, you wolf. get along home!" white fang knew the meaning of "home," and though he did not understand the remainder of the master's language, he knew it was his will that he should go home. he turned and trotted reluctantly away. then he stopped, undecided, and looked back over his shoulder. "go home!" came the sharp command, and this time he obeyed. the family was on the porch, taking the cool of the afternoon, when white fang arrived. he came in among them, panting, covered with dust. "weedon's back," weedon's mother announced. the children welcomed white fang with glad cries and ran to meet him. he avoided them and passed down the porch, but they cornered him against a rocking-chair and the railing. he growled and tried to push by them. their mother looked apprehensively in their direction. "i confess, he makes me nervous around the children," she said. "i have a dread that he will turn upon them unexpectedly some day." growling savagely, white fang sprang out of the corner, overturning the boy and the girl. the mother called them to her and comforted them, telling them not to bother white fang. "a wolf is a wolf!" commented judge scott. "there is no trusting one." "but he is not all wolf," interposed beth, standing for her brother in his absence. "you have only weedon's opinion for that," rejoined the judge. "he merely surmises that there is some strain of dog in white fang; but as he will tell you himself, he knows nothing about it. as for his appearance--" he did not finish his sentence. white fang stood before him, growling fiercely. "go away! lie down, sir!" judge scott commanded. white fang turned to the love-master's wife. she screamed with fright as he seized her dress in his teeth and dragged on it till the frail fabric tore away. by this time he had become the centre of interest. he had ceased from his growling and stood, head up, looking into their faces. his throat worked spasmodically, but made no sound, while he struggled with all his body, convulsed with the effort to rid himself of the incommunicable something that strained for utterance. "i hope he is not going mad," said weedon's mother. "i told weedon that i was afraid the warm climate would not agree with an arctic animal." "he's trying to speak, i do believe," beth announced. at this moment speech came to white fang, rushing up in a great burst of barking. "something has happened to weedon," his wife said decisively. they were all on their feet now, and white fang ran down the steps, looking back for them to follow. for the second and last time in his life he had barked and made himself understood. after this event he found a warmer place in the hearts of the sierra vista people, and even the groom whose arm he had slashed admitted that he was a wise dog even if he was a wolf. judge scott still held to the same opinion, and proved it to everybody's dissatisfaction by measurements and descriptions taken from the encyclopaedia and various works on natural history. the days came and went, streaming their unbroken sunshine over the santa clara valley. but as they grew shorter and white fang's second winter in the southland came on, he made a strange discovery. collie's teeth were no longer sharp. there was a playfulness about her nips and a gentleness that prevented them from really hurting him. he forgot that she had made life a burden to him, and when she disported herself around him he responded solemnly, striving to be playful and becoming no more than ridiculous. one day she led him off on a long chase through the back-pasture land into the woods. it was the afternoon that the master was to ride, and white fang knew it. the horse stood saddled and waiting at the door. white fang hesitated. but there was that in him deeper than all the law he had learned, than the customs that had moulded him, than his love for the master, than the very will to live of himself; and when, in the moment of his indecision, collie nipped him and scampered off, he turned and followed after. the master rode alone that day; and in the woods, side by side, white fang ran with collie, as his mother, kiche, and old one eye had run long years before in the silent northland forest. chapter v--the sleeping wolf it was about this time that the newspapers were full of the daring escape of a convict from san quentin prison. he was a ferocious man. he had been ill-made in the making. he had not been born right, and he had not been helped any by the moulding he had received at the hands of society. the hands of society are harsh, and this man was a striking sample of its handiwork. he was a beast--a human beast, it is true, but nevertheless so terrible a beast that he can best be characterised as carnivorous. in san quentin prison he had proved incorrigible. punishment failed to break his spirit. he could die dumb-mad and fighting to the last, but he could not live and be beaten. the more fiercely he fought, the more harshly society handled him, and the only effect of harshness was to make him fiercer. strait-jackets, starvation, and beatings and clubbings were the wrong treatment for jim hall; but it was the treatment he received. it was the treatment he had received from the time he was a little pulpy boy in a san francisco slum--soft clay in the hands of society and ready to be formed into something. it was during jim hall's third term in prison that he encountered a guard that was almost as great a beast as he. the guard treated him unfairly, lied about him to the warden, lost his credits, persecuted him. the difference between them was that the guard carried a bunch of keys and a revolver. jim hall had only his naked hands and his teeth. but he sprang upon the guard one day and used his teeth on the other's throat just like any jungle animal. after this, jim hall went to live in the incorrigible cell. he lived there three years. the cell was of iron, the floor, the walls, the roof. he never left this cell. he never saw the sky nor the sunshine. day was a twilight and night was a black silence. he was in an iron tomb, buried alive. he saw no human face, spoke to no human thing. when his food was shoved in to him, he growled like a wild animal. he hated all things. for days and nights he bellowed his rage at the universe. for weeks and months he never made a sound, in the black silence eating his very soul. he was a man and a monstrosity, as fearful a thing of fear as ever gibbered in the visions of a maddened brain. and then, one night, he escaped. the warders said it was impossible, but nevertheless the cell was empty, and half in half out of it lay the body of a dead guard. two other dead guards marked his trail through the prison to the outer walls, and he had killed with his hands to avoid noise. he was armed with the weapons of the slain guards--a live arsenal that fled through the hills pursued by the organised might of society. a heavy price of gold was upon his head. avaricious farmers hunted him with shot-guns. his blood might pay off a mortgage or send a son to college. public-spirited citizens took down their rifles and went out after him. a pack of bloodhounds followed the way of his bleeding feet. and the sleuth-hounds of the law, the paid fighting animals of society, with telephone, and telegraph, and special train, clung to his trail night and day. sometimes they came upon him, and men faced him like heroes, or stampeded through barbed-wire fences to the delight of the commonwealth reading the account at the breakfast table. it was after such encounters that the dead and wounded were carted back to the towns, and their places filled by men eager for the man-hunt. and then jim hall disappeared. the bloodhounds vainly quested on the lost trail. inoffensive ranchers in remote valleys were held up by armed men and compelled to identify themselves. while the remains of jim hall were discovered on a dozen mountain-sides by greedy claimants for bloodmoney. in the meantime the newspapers were read at sierra vista, not so much with interest as with anxiety. the women were afraid. judge scott poohpoohed and laughed, but not with reason, for it was in his last days on the bench that jim hall had stood before him and received sentence. and in open court-room, before all men, jim hall had proclaimed that the day would come when he would wreak vengeance on the judge that sentenced him. for once, jim hall was right. he was innocent of the crime for which he was sentenced. it was a case, in the parlance of thieves and police, of "rail-roading." jim hall was being "rail-roaded" to prison for a crime he had not committed. because of the two prior convictions against him, judge scott imposed upon him a sentence of fifty years. judge scott did not know all things, and he did not know that he was party to a police conspiracy, that the evidence was hatched and perjured, that jim hall was guiltless of the crime charged. and jim hall, on the other hand, did not know that judge scott was merely ignorant. jim hall believed that the judge knew all about it and was hand in glove with the police in the perpetration of the monstrous injustice. so it was, when the doom of fifty years of living death was uttered by judge scott, that jim hall, hating all things in the society that misused him, rose up and raged in the court-room until dragged down by half a dozen of his bluecoated enemies. to him, judge scott was the keystone in the arch of injustice, and upon judge scott he emptied the vials of his wrath and hurled the threats of his revenge yet to come. then jim hall went to his living death . . . and escaped. of all this white fang knew nothing. but between him and alice, the master's wife, there existed a secret. each night, after sierra vista had gone to bed, she rose and let in white fang to sleep in the big hall. now white fang was not a house-dog, nor was he permitted to sleep in the house; so each morning, early, she slipped down and let him out before the family was awake. on one such night, while all the house slept, white fang awoke and lay very quietly. and very quietly he smelled the air and read the message it bore of a strange god's presence. and to his ears came sounds of the strange god's movements. white fang burst into no furious outcry. it was not his way. the strange god walked softly, but more softly walked white fang, for he had no clothes to rub against the flesh of his body. he followed silently. in the wild he had hunted live meat that was infinitely timid, and he knew the advantage of surprise. the strange god paused at the foot of the great staircase and listened, and white fang was as dead, so without movement was he as he watched and waited. up that staircase the way led to the love-master and to the lovemaster's dearest possessions. white fang bristled, but waited. the strange god's foot lifted. he was beginning the ascent. then it was that white fang struck. he gave no warning, with no snarl anticipated his own action. into the air he lifted his body in the spring that landed him on the strange god's back. white fang clung with his fore-paws to the man's shoulders, at the same time burying his fangs into the back of the man's neck. he clung on for a moment, long enough to drag the god over backward. together they crashed to the floor. white fang leaped clear, and, as the man struggled to rise, was in again with the slashing fangs. sierra vista awoke in alarm. the noise from downstairs was as that of a score of battling fiends. there were revolver shots. a man's voice screamed once in horror and anguish. there was a great snarling and growling, and over all arose a smashing and crashing of furniture and glass. but almost as quickly as it had arisen, the commotion died away. the struggle had not lasted more than three minutes. the frightened household clustered at the top of the stairway. from below, as from out an abyss of blackness, came up a gurgling sound, as of air bubbling through water. sometimes this gurgle became sibilant, almost a whistle. but this, too, quickly died down and ceased. then naught came up out of the blackness save a heavy panting of some creature struggling sorely for air. weedon scott pressed a button, and the staircase and downstairs hall were flooded with light. then he and judge scott, revolvers in hand, cautiously descended. there was no need for this caution. white fang had done his work. in the midst of the wreckage of overthrown and smashed furniture, partly on his side, his face hidden by an arm, lay a man. weedon scott bent over, removed the arm and turned the man's face upward. a gaping throat explained the manner of his death. "jim hall," said judge scott, and father and son looked significantly at each other. then they turned to white fang. he, too, was lying on his side. his eyes were closed, but the lids slightly lifted in an effort to look at them as they bent over him, and the tail was perceptibly agitated in a vain effort to wag. weedon scott patted him, and his throat rumbled an acknowledging growl. but it was a weak growl at best, and it quickly ceased. his eyelids drooped and went shut, and his whole body seemed to relax and flatten out upon the floor. "he's all in, poor devil," muttered the master. "we'll see about that," asserted the judge, as he started for the telephone. "frankly, he has one chance in a thousand," announced the surgeon, after he had worked an hour and a half on white fang. dawn was breaking through the windows and dimming the electric lights. with the exception of the children, the whole family was gathered about the surgeon to hear his verdict. "one broken hind-leg," he went on. "three broken ribs, one at least of which has pierced the lungs. he has lost nearly all the blood in his body. there is a large likelihood of internal injuries. he must have been jumped upon. to say nothing of three bullet holes clear through him. one chance in a thousand is really optimistic. he hasn't a chance in ten thousand." "but he mustn't lose any chance that might be of help to him," judge scott exclaimed. "never mind expense. put him under the x-ray--anything. weedon, telegraph at once to san francisco for doctor nichols. no reflection on you, doctor, you understand; but he must have the advantage of every chance." the surgeon smiled indulgently. "of course i understand. he deserves all that can be done for him. he must be nursed as you would nurse a human being, a sick child. and don't forget what i told you about temperature. i'll be back at ten o'clock again." white fang received the nursing. judge scott's suggestion of a trained nurse was indignantly clamoured down by the girls, who themselves undertook the task. and white fang won out on the one chance in ten thousand denied him by the surgeon. the latter was not to be censured for his misjudgment. all his life he had tended and operated on the soft humans of civilisation, who lived sheltered lives and had descended out of many sheltered generations. compared with white fang, they were frail and flabby, and clutched life without any strength in their grip. white fang had come straight from the wild, where the weak perish early and shelter is vouchsafed to none. in neither his father nor his mother was there any weakness, nor in the generations before them. a constitution of iron and the vitality of the wild were white fang's inheritance, and he clung to life, the whole of him and every part of him, in spirit and in flesh, with the tenacity that of old belonged to all creatures. bound down a prisoner, denied even movement by the plaster casts and bandages, white fang lingered out the weeks. he slept long hours and dreamed much, and through his mind passed an unending pageant of northland visions. all the ghosts of the past arose and were with him. once again he lived in the lair with kiche, crept trembling to the knees of grey beaver to tender his allegiance, ran for his life before lip-lip and all the howling bedlam of the puppy-pack. he ran again through the silence, hunting his living food through the months of famine; and again he ran at the head of the team, the gut-whips of mit-sah and grey beaver snapping behind, their voices crying "ra! raa!" when they came to a narrow passage and the team closed together like a fan to go through. he lived again all his days with beauty smith and the fights he had fought. at such times he whimpered and snarled in his sleep, and they that looked on said that his dreams were bad. but there was one particular nightmare from which he suffered--the clanking, clanging monsters of electric cars that were to him colossal screaming lynxes. he would lie in a screen of bushes, watching for a squirrel to venture far enough out on the ground from its tree-refuge. then, when he sprang out upon it, it would transform itself into an electric car, menacing and terrible, towering over him like a mountain, screaming and clanging and spitting fire at him. it was the same when he challenged the hawk down out of the sky. down out of the blue it would rush, as it dropped upon him changing itself into the ubiquitous electric car. or again, he would be in the pen of beauty smith. outside the pen, men would be gathering, and he knew that a fight was on. he watched the door for his antagonist to enter. the door would open, and thrust in upon him would come the awful electric car. a thousand times this occurred, and each time the terror it inspired was as vivid and great as ever. then came the day when the last bandage and the last plaster cast were taken off. it was a gala day. all sierra vista was gathered around. the master rubbed his ears, and he crooned his love-growl. the master's wife called him the "blessed wolf," which name was taken up with acclaim and all the women called him the blessed wolf. he tried to rise to his feet, and after several attempts fell down from weakness. he had lain so long that his muscles had lost their cunning, and all the strength had gone out of them. he felt a little shame because of his weakness, as though, forsooth, he were failing the gods in the service he owed them. because of this he made heroic efforts to arise and at last he stood on his four legs, tottering and swaying back and forth. "the blessed wolf!" chorused the women. judge scott surveyed them triumphantly. "out of your own mouths be it," he said. "just as i contended right along. no mere dog could have done what he did. he's a wolf." "a blessed wolf," amended the judge's wife. "yes, blessed wolf," agreed the judge. "and henceforth that shall be my name for him." "he'll have to learn to walk again," said the surgeon; "so he might as well start in right now. it won't hurt him. take him outside." and outside he went, like a king, with all sierra vista about him and tending on him. he was very weak, and when he reached the lawn he lay down and rested for a while. then the procession started on, little spurts of strength coming into white fang's muscles as he used them and the blood began to surge through them. the stables were reached, and there in the doorway, lay collie, a half-dozen pudgy puppies playing about her in the sun. white fang looked on with a wondering eye. collie snarled warningly at him, and he was careful to keep his distance. the master with his toe helped one sprawling puppy toward him. he bristled suspiciously, but the master warned him that all was well. collie, clasped in the arms of one of the women, watched him jealously and with a snarl warned him that all was not well. the puppy sprawled in front of him. he cocked his ears and watched it curiously. then their noses touched, and he felt the warm little tongue of the puppy on his jowl. white fang's tongue went out, he knew not why, and he licked the puppy's face. hand-clapping and pleased cries from the gods greeted the performance. he was surprised, and looked at them in a puzzled way. then his weakness asserted itself, and he lay down, his ears cocked, his head on one side, as he watched the puppy. the other puppies came sprawling toward him, to collie's great disgust; and he gravely permitted them to clamber and tumble over him. at first, amid the applause of the gods, he betrayed a trifle of his old self-consciousness and awkwardness. this passed away as the puppies' antics and mauling continued, and he lay with half-shut patient eyes, drowsing in the sun. the silver maple by marian keith author of "duncan polite" toronto the westminster company limited 1905 contents chapter i. in the valley of shadows ii. a new name iii. winning his spurs iv. "cape canada" v. the reformation vi. an ignominious task vii. the avenging of glencoe viii. the end of the feud ix. ralph stanwell again x. in the realms of gold xi. the weaver's reward xii. a well-meant plot xiii. the voice in the wilderness xiv. the voyageurs xv. the secret of the nile xvi. re-voyage xvii. the promised land the silver maple i in the valley of shadows like the great rest that cometh after pain, the calm that follows storm, the great surcease, this folding slumber comforts wood and plain in one white mantling peace. --william wilfred campbell. the storm was over, the snow had ceased falling, and under its muffling mantle, white and spent with the day's struggle, lay the great swamp of the oro. it seemed to hold in its motionless bosom the very spirit of silence and death. the delicately traced pattern of a rabbit or weasel track, and a narrow human pathway that wound tortuously into the sepulchral depths, were the only signs of life in all the white stillness. away down the dim, cathedral-like aisles, that fainted into softest grey in the distance, the crackling of an overburdened twig rang startlingly clear in the awesome hush. the tall firs and pines swept the white earth with their snow-laden branches, the drooping limbs looking like throngs of cowled heads, bent to worship in the sacred stillness of a vast temple. for the forest was, indeed, a place in which to wonder and to pray, a place all white and holy, filled with the mystery and awe of death. but suddenly into this softly curtained sanctuary came a profaning sound; a clear, joyous shout rang through the sacred aisles; and, down the narrow pathway, leaping over fallen logs, whipping aside the laden branches and scattering their snow-crowns in a whirling mist about him, destroying, in his ruthless progress, both the sanctity and the beauty of the place, came a human figure, a little figure, straight and sturdy, and as lithe and active as any other wild, forest-creature. his small, red-mittened hands, the scarlet woollen scarf about his neck, and his rosy cheeks made a bold dash of colour in the sombre gloom, as his abounding life disturbed the winter death-sleep. on he came, leaping from log to log like a hare, and setting the stately forest arches ringing to a rollicking scottish song, tuneful and incongruous,- "wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', we'll up an gie them a blaw, a blaw! wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'!" but as he plunged down the hill into the grey depths he suddenly ceased singing. the awe of the place touched his child's spirit. reared in the forest though he had been, he suddenly felt strangely unfamiliar with his surroundings. he had never before experienced anything like fear in the woods. the rigours of seven canadian winters had bred a hardy spirit in this little backwoodsman, and besides what was there to dread in the forest? it had been his playground ever since he was first able to steal away from granny and toddle off to "the bush" to gather blue flags and poke up the goggle-eyed frogs from their fragrant musk-pools. but here was something unfamiliar; a strange uncanny place the swamp seemed to-day; and, being nature's intimate, he fell into sudden sympathy with her awe-stricken mood. he sped silently forward, glancing fearfully down the dim, shadowy aisles, so ghostly, so mysterious, dreading he knew not what. "eh, eh, it will be a fearsome place," he whispered. "it's jist,--eh, it must be the 'valley of the shadow'!" and then he suddenly remembered the psalm that granny had taught him as soon as he could speak,- "yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i will fear no evil, for thou art with me." he whispered it over from beginning to end, not because he comprehended its meaning as applied to his case, but because it was associated with granny and all things good, and, therefore, gave him a sense of comfort. for he felt as though he were home by the fireside, and she was smoothing his curls and singing those words, as she so often did when he was falling asleep. "and i will dwell in the house of the lord forever." as he whispered the last line he reached the top of the hill and suddenly emerged from the valley of shadows and fears into the light of day. just ahead lay a clearing, with the rose-coloured sunset flooding its white expanse and glowing between the dark tree-stems. he ran forward with joyful relief and leaped out into an open world of beauty, all ablaze in the dazzling rays of the setting sun. here was light and safety--yes, and friends! he had emerged upon the public highway, known in that part of the country as the "scotch line," and there, coming swiftly down the glittering hill, was a low, rough sleigh, drawn by a pair of bell-less horses. the driver was an elderly man, tall, straight, and fierce-looking, with a fine, noble head and a long, sweeping, grey beard, which gave him a patriarchal appearance. by his side sat a young man, almost his exact counterpart in face and figure, but lacking the stately dignity of years. behind, on the edge of the sleigh, swinging their feet in the snow, sat two more youths, both showing in face and figure unmistakable signs of close relationship to the elderly man on the front seat. as the little figure came bounding out from the forest the whole quartette broke into a welcoming shout. with an answering whoop the boy darted forward and pitched himself upon the sleigh. "horo, scotty!" "woohoo!" "how's our big college-student?" he was caught up and flung from one to another like a bundle of hay, until he landed, laughing and breathless, in the arms of the driver. big malcolm macdonald stood the boy up between his knees, his deep eyes shining with pride. "hey, hey!" he cried. "and how's our big man that will be going to school?" the boy's dark eyes were blazing with excitement. "oh, grandad, it would jist be fine! it's jist grand! an' me an' big sandy's archie and peter jimmie is all readin' in one place, an' the master says i can read jist fine, whatever!" "didn't you get a lickin'?" demanded a voice from the rear of the sleigh. the bright face suddenly fell, one could never aspire to be a hero until one had braved the master's tawse. "no," was the reluctant admission. "the master would be jist fearsome to the big lads, but he would not be saying anything to me. but," he added, brightening, "i would be having a fight!" "horo!" the three young men laughed delightedly. "that will be a fine start, jist keep it up!" cried the youth on the front seat. "hoots, whist ye, callum!" cried the elder man, reprovingly, while his dancing eyes contradicted his tongue. "what will his granny be sayin' to such goin's on, an' the first day at school, too!" "and who would you be fightin', scotty?" asked uncle rory, leaning eagerly forward. "danny murphy!" he announced truculently, "an' i would be lickin' him good, too!" there was a chorus of joyous approval. "good for you!" shouted callum; "jist you pitch into any o' yon irish crew every time you get a chance!" "be quate, will ye, callum!" cried his father more sternly. "the lad will be jist like yerself, too ready with his fists, whatever. a brave man will never be a boaster, scotty, man." the would-be hero's head drooped; he looked slightly abashed. "what would danny be doin' to you?" inquired callum. at the question, the proud little head came up swiftly. "he said--he said!" cried its owner, stammering in his wrath, "he said i would be an englishman!" small comfort he received, for the report of this deadly insult produced yells of laughter. "yon was a black-hearted irish trick, an' jist like one o' pat murphy's tribe, whatever," said callum, with a sudden affectation of solemnity that somewhat appeased the child's rising indignation. "an' you would be pitchin' into him good for his lies, wouldn't you?" inquired rory, encouragingly. the boy looked up shyly at his grandfather. "a wee bit," he admitted modestly. the father glanced significantly at his eldest son. "school will be the place to learn many things," he said in a low tone. the young man laughed easily. "he's bound to be finding it out some time, anyway," he answered, but not so low that the boy's quick ears could not catch the words. he looked up intently into the faces of the two men, a startled expression in his big eyes. then he suddenly scrambled out from between them, and went behind to where hamish, his youngest uncle, sat. he felt vaguely that he was approaching some strange, unforeseen trouble, and hamish was always sympathetic. the sleigh had been moving swiftly through long, narrow forest aisles, and now it suddenly turned into view of a small farm, a "clearing," plentifully besprinkled with snow-crowned stumps and surrounded by the still unconquered forest, dark and menacing, but sullenly and slowly retreating. here was a home, nevertheless; a home wrested by heroic struggles from the wilderness. in the centre, on the face of a little sloping hill, stood the citadel of this newly-conquered territory,--a farmhouse and out-buildings. they were all rough log structures, but the dwelling house had about it the unmistakable atmosphere of a home. around it, even under the snowdrifts, were vague signs of a garden; from the low, wide chimney poured forth a blue column of smoke; and at one of the windows a candle twinkled cheerfully; both speaking of warmth and welcome within, very grateful in the chill, winter dusk. and at the side of the house, on a small knoll, spreading its bare branches over the roof as though to shield the home from the biting blasts, grew a gigantic silver maple, a welcome shelter alike in summer and winter. as the sleigh swept past the house on its way to the barn. big malcolm pushed the boy gently forward. "run away in, scotty, man," he said; "see, granny will be watchin' for you at the window." scotty hesitated; he wanted to go on to the stable, and there give rory and hamish a more detailed account of his glorious battle of the morning. but granny was expecting him, and he must not disappoint her; even callum dared not do that, and callum dared almost anything else. so the boy leaped down and ran swiftly up the rough little pathway. at his approach the old, weather-beaten door flew open; and he sprang into a pair of outstretched arms. ii a new name outside, the ghostly rampikes, those armies of the moon, stood while the ranks of stars drew on to that more spacious noon,- while over them in silence waved on the dusk afar the gold flags of the northern light streaming with ancient war. --bliss carman. scotty lay stretched before the wide fireplace, his tousled, curly head upon his small, brown hand, his eyes fastened dreamily upon the glowing mass of coals. he was waiting anxiously for the rest of the family to join him. supper was over; and just as soon as his grandfather and "the boys" returned from the barn he was going to recount, for the fourth time, the great events of this, his first day at school. he felt like a hero just returned from an overwhelming victory. the whole family seemed conscious of his added importance. even bruce, his collie dog, sat close beside him, poking him occasionally with his nose, that he might have a share in his master's glory. and as for granny, she stopped every few moments in her work of straining and putting away the milk to exclaim: "eh, eh, but it's granny would be the lonesome old body this day without her boy!" the little candle on the bare, pine table shed only a small ring of light, and the goblin shadows danced away from the wide hearth into the corners of the room. in the darkest one stood an old four-post bed with a billowy feather mattress, covered by a tartan quilt. beside it hung a quantity of rough coats and caps, and beneath them stood the "boot-jack," an instrument for drawing off the long, high-topped boots, and one scotty yearned to be big enough to use. in another corner stood granny's spinning-wheel, which whizzed cheerily the whole long day, and beside it was a low bench with a tin wash-basin, a cake of home-made soap and a coarse towel. there was very little furniture besides, except a few chairs, the big table, the clock with the long chains and the noisy pendulum, the picture of queen victoria, and the big, high cupboard into which granny was putting the supper dishes. this last article of furniture was always of great interest to scotty. for away up on the top shelf, made doubly valuable by being unattainable, stood some wonderful pieces of crockery; among them a sugar-bowl that granny had brought from the old country, and which had blue boys and girls dancing in a gay ring about it. then there was the glass jar with the tin lid in which grandaddy kept some mysterious papers; one piece was called money. scotty had actually seen it once, in grandaddy's hands, and wondered secretly why such ugly, crumpled, green paper should be considered so precious. "an' would peter lauchie not be coming across the swamp with you, _m' eudail bheg_?" his grandmother was asking for the fifth time. "noh!" the boy's answer was quick and disdainful. somehow he would rather granny would not pat his head and lavish endearing gaelic epithets upon him to-night; such things had been very soothing in the past when he was sleepy and wanted to go to bed; but now he was a big boy, going to school, and had fought and defeated in single combat one of the macdonalds' enemies, and he could not be expected to endure petting. "why, granny!" he cried, "i would be knowing the road all right. peter lauchie jist came to his clearin', and i would be coming to the line all alone, and then i met grandaddy an' the boys there." "eh, indeed, it is the great man you will be, whatever," she said, regarding him wistfully. this child, her last baby, and the best-beloved, was growing up swiftly to manhood, and like all the others would soon have interests beyond her. "an' would granny's boy not be fearing to cross the swamp alone?" her voice was almost pleading. she bent down, and her thin, hard hand rested caressingly on his dark, tumbled curls. she yearned to hear him confess himself her baby still. he threw back his head and looked up into her tender, wrinkled face; and one little hand went up suddenly to caress its rough surface. for scotty had a heart quite out of proportion to the size of his body, and a look of grief on granny's face could move him quicker than the sternest command of his grandfather. "yes," he confessed in a whisper, "i would be fearing jist once, and then i spoke the piece about 'the lord is my shepherd' and then i wouldn't be minding much. sing it, granny." so granny sang the shepherd's psalm in gaelic, as she went slowly about her household tasks; sang it in a thin, quavering voice to a weird old scottish melody that had in it the wail of winds over lone heather moors, and the sob of waves on a wild, rock-bound coast. she came and went, in and out of the dancing ring of fire-light, a tall, thin figure, stooped and aged-looking, apparently more from hard work than from advanced years. but her toil-bent frame, her rough hands and coarse grey homespun dress could not quite hide the air of gentle dignity that clothed her. there was a certain lofty refinement in her movements; and on her wrinkled face and in her beautiful grey eyes the imprint of a soul that toil and pain had only strengthened and sweetened. hers was the face of a woman who had suffered much, but had conquered, and always would conquer through faith and love. to the little boy on the hearthstone, at least, the thin, stooped figure and worn face made up the most beautiful personality the world could produce. but he turned to the fire, and his dreams floated far away beyond the ring of fire-light, and beyond granny's gentle voice. for he had entered a new world that day, the great new world of school, and his imagination had a wider field in which to run riot. he was still dreaming, and granny was half-way through the psalm for the second time, when the stamping of snowy feet at the door announced the return of big malcolm and his sons. callum came swinging in first, callum who was such a gay, handsome, rollicking fellow that he was scotty's hero and copy. the boy sprang up, pitching himself upon him, and was promptly swung over the young man's shoulders, until his feet kicked the raftered ceiling. scotty yelled with glee, bruce leaped up barking, and the room was in an uproar. "hooch! be quate!" shouted big malcolm. "it is a child you are yourself, callum!"' at the sounds of the noise and laughter a small figure stirred in the shadowy chimney-corner, the figure of a little, bent, old man, with a queer, elfish, hairy visage. he sat up and his small, red eyes blinked wonderingly. "hech, hech, and it will be the cold night, malcolm!" he said in gaelic. "a cold night it is, farquhar," cried big malcolm, piling the wood upon the fire. "but we will soon be fixing that, whatever." "it will be a good thing to be by a warm fire this night," continued old farquhar solemnly, "och, hone, a good thing, indeed!" outside the wind had once more gathered its forces, and was howling about the house, and the swaying branches of the silver maple were tapping upon the roof as though to remind the inhabitants that it was still there to protect them. but the little old man shivered at the sound, for he had once known what it was to be homeless on those hills over which the blast was sweeping. how old farquhar came to be a member of big malcolm macdonald's family no one could quite tell. he was one of those unattached fragments of humanity often found in a new country. a sort of wandering minstrel was farquhar, content so long as he could pay for a meal or a night's lodging at a wayside tavern by a song, or a tune on his fiddle. thus he had drifted musically for years through the canadian backwoods, until homeless old age had overtaken him. four years before he had spent a summer at big malcolm's, helping perfunctorily in the harvest fields, working little and singing much, and when the first hard frost had set the forest aflame he had gathered his poor, scant bundle of clothes into his carpet-bag preparatory to taking the road again. "and where will you be going for the winter?" big malcolm had asked. "she'll not know," said old farquhar, glancing tremulously over the great stretches of dying forest, "she'll not know." "hooch!" cried his host angrily, "sit down with ye!" he snatched up old farquhar's carpet-bag and flung it into a corner, and there it had lain ever since. and in another corner, the warm one by the chimney, old farquhar had sat every winter since, too, smoking his pipe in utter content. always in summer his bohemian nature asserted itself again, and he would take his stick and wander away, remaining, perhaps, for months; but as soon as the silver maple beside the house began to turn to gold he would come hobbling back, sure of a warm welcome in the home where there was no stint. the family gathered about the cheerful hearth: every one of them, to scotty's great delight, for there was not half the fun at home when "the boys" went off in the evenings. at one side of the fire sat his grandmother, her peaceful face bent over her knitting, and opposite her big malcolm smoking and happy. hamish, as usual, retired to the old bench behind the table, and with the one candle close to him, was soon absorbed in a book. in some miraculous way hamish always managed to have reading material at hand, though the luxury sometimes cost him a tramp half-way across the township of oro. near the fire, balanced uneasily on the woodbox and whittling a stick, sat callum; for callum could never sit down quietly, even at home. callum fiach, or wild malcolm, they called him in this land of many macdonalds, where the dearth of names necessitated a descriptive title. unfortunately, callum's especial cognomen was quite appropriate and the cause of much anxiety to his gentle mother. but scotty thought it was fine; he intended to be just like callum when he grew up. he would stand up straight and grand and cut down great trees and fight the murphys, and go off in the evenings and be chaffed about having a sweetheart. rory was always teasing callum about long lauchie's mary, and scotty was resolved that, when he was big, he would go to see mary's sister, betty; for then he and callum could go together. he cordially despised the chosen betty as a girl and a cry-baby, who gave her brother, peter, endless trouble; but he was determined to shirk no task, however unpleasant, that would make him more like his hero. when they were all ready to listen to him, the boy seated himself upon a bench beside rory, and proceeded to relate once more to his admiring family the wonderful experiences of the day; the greatness of the schoolmaster; the magnificence of the school itself; the prowess of peter lauchie and roarin' sandy's archie, how they declared they weren't afraid of even the master; the number of boys old mcallister could thrash in a day, and the amount he knew; such fearsome long words as he could spell, and the places he could point out on the map! he chattered on to his delighted audience; but for some strange reason he made no further allusion to his fight. when there was no more to tell, rory crossed the room and with elaborate care took down a box from a shelf above the bed. from it he tenderly took out a violin, and after much strumming and tuning up he seated himself upon a chair in the middle of the room and struck up the lively air of "the macdonalds' reel." scotty leaped to the floor; rory's fiddle could do anything with him, make him dance with mad joy until he was exhausted, stir him up to a wild longing to go away and do deeds of impossible prowess, or even make him creep into the shadows behind granny's chair and weep heart-broken tears into her ample skirts. to-night the tune was gay, and callum came out into the ring of light, and sitting astride a chair with his arms crossed over its back, put his nephew through the intricacies of the highland fling until he was gasping for breath. granny saw, and stopped the dance by a nod and smile to rory; the music instantly changed to a slow, wailing melody, and the boy dropped into a chair and sat gazing into the fire, dreaming dreams of mystery and wonder. then they all sang old-fashioned scottish songs; songs that were old before burns came to give scotland a new voice. and old farquhar struck in, during a short pause, with one of ossian's songs of war-like doings and glorious deaths. he sang in a cracked, weird voice to a wild gaelic air that had neither melody nor rhythm, but somehow contained the poetic fire of the impromptu songs of the old bards. rory followed, putting in a note here and there; but as the song wavered on and showed no signs of coming to an end, he struck up, "the hundred pipers an' a' an' a'," and drowned out the old man's wail. then burns was not forgotten, and they were all in the midst of "ye banks and braes o' bonnie doon," a song that always made scotty's heart ache as though it would burst, he knew not why, when the door opened suddenly, letting in a rush of frosty air, and a visitor. no one ever knocked at a neighbour's door in the canadian backwoods, and james macdonald, or weaver jimmie, as he was called, was such a familiar figure at big malcolm's that even bruce merely raised his eyes as he entered. mrs. macdonald smiled her welcome, big malcolm shoved forward a chair, and the music flowed on uninterrupted. weaver jimmie was a young man, short, and thick-set. he was something of an anomaly; for, while he was the coolest fighter in the township of oro, and gloried in strife, he was nervous and embarrassed to the verge of distraction when in company, particularly if it consisted of the fair sex. this diffidence partly arose from the fact that poor jimmie was hopelessly ugly, and painfully aware of his shortcomings. his chief characteristics were a brilliant and bristling red beard and a pair of long, flat feet. he realised to the full that these obtrusive features were anything but things of beauty, and found them a sorrow forever in his vain attempts to conceal them. at big malcolm's invitation he moved up to the fire in nervous haste, and with a deprecating smile; dropped suddenly into a chair, and tilted it back in imitation of callum's easy nonchalance; but finding the character difficult to maintain in view of his feet, he suddenly came down to the horizontal once more, and in so doing descended upon poor bruce's tail. that unoffending canine uttered a yelp of pain, echoed by scotty, who sprang to comfort him; and rory, whose musical ear had been irritated by the disturbance, suddenly drew his bow with a discordant rasp across the strings, and ended the melodious song with a long, wolf-like howl. "hoots, toots, rory lad!" cried his mother reproachfully. "come away, jimmie man, come away to the fire, it will be a cold night indeed." but weaver jimmie was so overcome by his embarrassing mistake that, instead of obeying, he backed away into the shadows like a restive horse. "and how will all the folk in the glen be, jimmie?" asked big malcolm. under cover of the conversation that ensued, rory gently drew his bow across the strings, and softly sang an old ditty that had an especial meaning for their guest- "oh, jinny banged, jinny banged, jinny banged the weaver! ah cackled like a clockin' hen, when jinny banged the weaver!" callum fiach's eyes danced, and weaver jimmie laughed sheepishly. he took off his cap, replaced it again, smoothed his whiskers furiously, and then gazed around as if seeking a means of escape. "don't you be heedin' the lad, jimmie," cried mrs. macdonald. "it is jist his foolishness." "hooch," cried weaver jimmie, with a fine assumption of disdain, "it's little i'll be carin' for the likes o' him, whatever." "d'ye think she'll ever have you, jimmie?" inquired the musician with great seriousness. "i'll not be knowing for sure," replied the weaver, throwing one knee over the other in a vain attempt to appear at ease. "she would be lookin' a deal better these days, though!" he added, hopefully, as though the young lady of his choice had been suffering from some wasting disease. "hang me, but i believe i'll go sparkin' kirsty john myself!" said callum resolutely. "i'll be wantin' a wife bad when the north clearin' is ready, and i believe kirsty's got a fancy for me." "you'd better be mindin' your own business indeed, callum fiach!" cried weaver jimmie, with a sudden fierceness that contrasted strangely with his habitual diffidence. "she will be a smarter woman than you'll be ever gettin' with your feckless ways, indeed!" "well, i'm afraid there isn't much chance that you'll be gettin' her either," said callum very seriously. "man, she would be givin' you a fine black eye the last time you asked her." scotty turned away impatiently. the boys always seemed to get a great deal of fun out of weaver jimmie's tempestuous love-affair, but he found it very uninteresting. he slipped under the table, clambered upon the bench beside hamish, and stuck his curly head between the book and the young man's face; for he had long ago discovered this to be the only effectual means of bringing hamish back to actualities. such a proceeding would not have been safe with callum or rory, but hamish was always patient. "what ye readin', hamish?" he inquired coaxingly. "jist a book," said hamish dreamily. "be careful of it now. it belongs to the captain!" "captain herbert? the englishman grandaddy hates?" "yes; whisht, will ye? i didn't get it from him, though. kirsty john's mother had it, and lent it to me." "was you ever at the captain's place?" "yes, once." "is it fearful grand?" "yes, i suppose so. but i would jist be at the back door. take care, now, and let me read!" "the back door!" scotty's eyes ranged wonderingly round the walls. with the exception of the trap-door leading to the loft the house had but one opening. "eh, the captain's folks must be awful grand, hamish, to be having two doors to their house." hamish laughed. "there's grander things than that there; there's carpets on the floor, an' a piano to play on, an' a whole roomful o' books! losh!" he exclaimed, "i'd like to get my hands on them jist for a day!" "how did kirsty john's mother get this one?" "the lady that lives there lent it to her. kirsty's mother used to work for them. go on away now, and let me read!" for the boy was running his fingers through the pages. "there's no pictures; go and play with bruce." but scotty had turned to the fly-leaf and had discovered some writing. "what's that, hamish?" hamish read the inscription, which was written in a round boyish scrawl, "isabel douglas herbert, from her loving cousin, harold." "who're they?" "the boy's the captain's son, and the little girl is his niece. i saw her once at kirsty's. she's a pretty, wee thing." "huh!" scotty was disdainful. "i don't like girls. they will jist be cry-babies. is the boy as big as me?" "he's a little bigger, i guess. he goes to school away in toronto." "bet i could fight him. is toronto away over in the old country?" "no, it's in canada. be quiet. i want to read." "oh! is canady very far away?" "no, it's right here; this is canada." "oh! an' will the school-house be in canady too?" "yes." "an' the captain's house?" "imph-n-n." "oh! an' all, oro, an' lake simcoe? what will you be laughing at?" "wait till old mcallister learns you some geography. you'll hear something about canada that'll surprise you, whatever." "it won't be as big as the old country, though, will it?" but hamish did not answer. he was far away with david copperfield once more. the boy raised the fly-leaf and took another peep at the name. he sat very quiet for a few moment's and then he crept closer to his uncle, a red flush creeping up under the tan of his cheeks, his black eyes shining. "hamish!" he whispered, "hamish, will that be an--_english_ name?" "eh? what name?" hamish awoke reluctantly to the troublesome realities. "i'll not know." "aw, tell me, hamish!" "my, but you will be a bother! yes, herbert will be an english name, but isabel douglas is scotch, an' a fine hielan' name, too. but what in the world would you be wanting to know for?" scotty hesitated. he hung his black, curly head, and swung his feet in embarrassment; but finally he looked up desperately. "do you know what made danny murphy say i was an englishman?" he whispered. hamish stifled a laugh. "it would likely jist be his natural irish villainy," he suggested solemnly. but scotty shook his head at even such a natural explanation. "no, it would not be that, it would be--because--_the master said it_, hamish!" "the master?" hamish's look of amusement changed to one of deep interest. "why? what would he be saying?" the boy glanced around the room apprehensively, but the rest of the family were still absorbed in weaver jimmie. "when we would be coming into the school," he whispered hurriedly, "the master would be calling all the new ones to the front. an' he says to me, 'what's your name, child?' an i says, 'it's scotty,--scotty macdonald.' an' he says, 'hut tut, another macdonald! yon's no name. whose bairn are ye?' an' i told him i belonged to grandaddy an' the boys; an' he says,--an' he says, 'oh tuts, i know you now. you're big malcolm's _english grandson_!' he would be saying that, hamish! an' he wrote a name for me; see!" he had been growing more and more excited as the recital proceeded, and at this point he jerked from his bosom a torn and battered primer that had done duty in the few days that hamish had attended school. under the scrawling marks that stood for hamish's name was written in a fine scholarly flourish, "ralph everett stanwell." "humph!" hamish gazed at the book, and a look of sadness crept into his kind, brown eyes. he glanced across the room at his father. weaver jimmie had just departed, and callum was leaning over the back of his chair laughing immoderately, while rory was out in the middle of the floor executing a lively step-dance accompanied by voice and fiddle to the words, "ha! ha! the wooin' o't!" "look here, father," called hamish, "do you see what the schoolmaster would be writing in scotty's book?" big malcolm took the primer, adjusted his spectacles, and moved the little book up and down before the candle to get the proper focus. "ralph everett stanwell," he read slowly. "what kind o' a name would that be, whatever!" he cried, with a twinkle in his eye. "it's got a fearsome kind of a sough to it," said callum apprehensively. "it will be an english name!" cried scotty fiercely, "an' peter lauchie would be saying it is jist no name at all!" the young men burst into laughter, which served only to increase their nephew's wrath. he sprang out upon the floor, his black eyes blazing, and stamped his small foot. "i'll not be english!" he shouted. "it's jist them louts from the tenth is english! an' i'll be hielan'. an' it's not my name!" "eh, eh, mannie!" cried his grandmother gently. she laid her hand on the boy's arm and drew him toward her. "that will be no way for a big boy that will be going to school to behave," she whispered. the child turned to her and saw to his amazement that her eyes were full of tears. his sturdy little figure stiffened suddenly, and he made a desperate effort for self-control. "but it would be a great lie, granny!" he faltered appealingly. "hoots, never you mind!" cried his grandfather, with strange leniency; and even in the midst of his passion scotty dimly wondered that he did not receive a summary chastisement for his fit of temper. there was a strange, sad look in the man's eyes that alarmed the child more than anger would have done. "granny will be telling you all about it," he said, rising. "come, lads, it will be getting late." the three young men followed their father out to the stable. ordinarily they attended to the evening duties there themselves, but to-night big malcolm wished to leave the boy alone with his grandmother, realising that the situation needed a woman's delicate handling. this new proceeding filled scotty with an added alarm. he clambered up on his grandmother's knee as soon as they were alone and demanded an explanation; surely that english name wasn't his. he whispered the momentous question, for though old farquhar was snoring loudly in his corner, bruce was there, wide awake and looking up inquiringly, as though he could understand. and so, with her arms about him, granny told him for the first time the story of his birth. how granny had had only one little girl, older than callum, eh, and such a sweet lassie she was; how just when they had landed in canada she had married a young englishman who had come over with them on the great ship; how they had left them in toronto when they came north to the forests of oro; how their baby had come, the most beautiful baby, granny's little girl wrote, and how she had written also that they, too, were coming north to live near the old folks when,--granny's voice faltered,--when the fever came, and both granny's beautiful little girl and her englishman died, and grandaddy and callum had journeyed miles through the bush to bring granny her baby, and how kirsty john's mother had carried him all the way, and how he was all granny had left of her bright lass! at the sound of grief in his grandmother's voice, the child put up his hand to stroke her face, and found it wet with tears. instantly he forgot his own trouble in sympathy for hers, and clasping his hands about her neck he soothed her in the best way he knew. he scarcely understood her grief; was granny crying because he was only an englishman after all? for to him, bereavement and death were but names, and in the midst of abounding love he had never realised the lack of parents. he had often heard of them before, of his beautiful mother, whose eyes were so dark and whose hair was so curly like his own; and how his father had been such a fine, big, young man, and a gentleman too, though scotty had often vaguely wondered just what that meant. but that his parents had left him an inheritance of a name and lineage other than macdonald he had never dreamed. and now there was no denying the humiliating truth; his father had been an englishman, he himself was english, and that disgraceful name, at which peter lauchie had sneered, was his very own. henceforth he must be an outcast among the macdonalds, and be classed with the english crew that lived over on the tenth, and whom, everyone knew, the macdonalds despised. yes, and he belonged to the same class as that stuck-up captain herbert, who lived in that grand house on the north shore of lake oro, and whom his grandfather hated! he managed to check his tears by the time the boys returned, but during prayers he crouched miserably in a dark corner behind hamish, a victim of despair. he derived very little comfort from the fact that grandaddy was reading, "and thou shalt be called by a new name"; it seemed only an advertisement of his disgrace. he wondered drearily who else was so unfortunate as to be presented with one, and if it would be an english name. and afterwards, when they had gone up to the loft to bed, he crept in behind hamish, and cried himself to sleep because of that, which, in after years, he always remembered with pride. iii winning his spurs the saxon force, the celtic fire, these are thy manhood's heritage! --c. g. d. roberts. old ian mcallister, schoolmaster of section number nine, oro, was calling his flock into the educational fold. it was no clarion ring that summoned the youths from the forest, for the times were early and a settlement might be proud to possess a school, without going to the extremity of such foolishness as a bell, and number nine was not extravagant. but the schoolmaster's ingenuity had improvised a very good substitute. he stood in the doorway, hammering upon the doorpost with a long, flexible ruler, and making a peremptory clatter that echoed far away into the arches of the forest and hastened the steps of any tardy youths approaching from its depths. good cause they had to be expeditious, too, for well they knew, did they linger, the master would be apt to resume the bastinado upon their belated persons when they did arrive. this original method had other advantages, from the schoolmaster's point of view, for, as his pupils crowded past him through the narrow doorway, he had many a fine opportunity to transfer occasional whacks to the heads of such boys, and girls, too, as he felt would need the admonition before the day was over, and who could not manage to dodge him. so those approaching the school, even before they came within sight of the place, could reckon exactly the state of the master's temper, and the number of victims sacrificed thereto, by the intermittent sounds of the summoning stick. indeed, number nine possessed an almost superhuman knowledge of their master's mental workings. when he was fiercest then they were most hopeful; for they knew that, like other active volcanoes, having once indulged in a terrible eruption he was not likely to break forth again for some time. he was quite dependable, for his conduct followed certain fixed rules. first came about a fortnight of stern discipline and faithful and terrifying attention to duty. during this period a subdued and busy hum pervaded number nine and much knowledge was gained. for ian mcallister was a man of no mean parts, and, as the trustees of the section were wont to boast, there was not such another man in the county of simcoe for "bringing the scholars on--when he was at it." but the trouble was he could never stay "at it" very long. a much more joyous, though less profitable, season followed, during which the schoolmaster's energies were taken up in a bitter and losing fight with an appetite for strong drink. poor mcallister had been intended for a fine, scholarly, upright character, and he struggled desperately to maintain his integrity. but about once in two months he yielded to temptation. during these "spells," as number nine called his lapses from duty, he still taught, but in a perfunctory manner, being prone to play practical jokes upon his pupils, which, of course, they returned with interest. when he finally succumbed in sleep, with his feet on the desk and his red spotted handkerchief over his face, number nine took to the bush and proceeded to enjoy life. that they did not altogether give themselves over to unbounded riot was due to the fact that the master's awakening might occur at any moment. and well they knew he was apt to come out of his lethargy with awful suddenness, with a conscience lashing him for his weakness and with a stern determination to work out tremendous reparation for the lost hours. but number nine suffered little from this changeable conduct. they had studied their master so faithfully that they could generally calculate what would be the state of his temper at a given time, and guided themselves accordingly. indeed, roarin' sandy's archie, a giant macdonald who had attended every winter since the schoolhouse was built, could tell almost to a day when the master was likely to relax, and he acted as a sort of barometer to the whole school. but to-day mcallister showed no signs of relaxation as they dodged past him and scrambled into their places. the room was soon filled, for the winter term had commenced and all the big boys and girls of the section were in attendance. the schoolroom was small, with rough log walls and a raftered ceiling. down the middle ran a row of long forms for the younger children, and along the sides were ranged a few well carved desks, at which the elder pupils sat when they wrote in their copy-books. at the end nearest the door stood a huge rusty stove, always red-hot in winter, and near it were a big wooden water-pail and tin dipper. at the other end of the room stood the master's desk, a long-legged rickety structure, with a stool to match, from which lofty throne the ruler of number nine could command a view of his realm and spy out its most remote region of insubordination. behind him was the blackboard, a piece of sheep-skin used as an eraser, and an ancient and tattered map of europe. scotty was already in his place; he had hurried to his seat as soon as he arrived for fear someone might ask him his name, and in dread lest he might be claimed by those english boys from the tenth, whom his soul loathed. he had started to school at a time when the several nationalities that were being welded together to make the canadian race were by no means one, and he had inherited all the prejudices of his own people. number nine was a school eminently calculated to keep alive all the small race animosities that characterised the times; for english, irish and scotch, both highland and lowland, had settled in small communities with the schoolhouse as a central point. the building was situated in a hollow made by a bend in the oro river; to the north among the green hills surrounding lake oro, was the oa, a district named after a part of islay, and there dwelt the highlanders; all macdonalds, all related, all tenaciously clannish, and all such famous warriors that they had earned the name throughout the whole county of simcoe of the "fighting macdonalds," a name which their progeny who attended number nine school strove valiantly to perpetuate. from the low-lying lands at the south, a region called the flats, which sloped gently southward until it sank beneath the blue waters of lake simcoe, came the irish contingent, always merry, always quarrelling, and always headed by young pat murphy and nancy caldwell, who were the chief warriors of the section. and over on the western plains that stretched away from the banks of the oro, on a concession locally styled "the tenth," lived a class of pupils whose chief representative had been overheard by a highland enemy to say, as he named the forest trees along his path to school, "that there's a _hoak_, an' that there's a _hash_, an' that there's a _helm_." though the youth bore the highly respectable and historic name of tommy tucker, he was forever after branded as "hoak" tucker, and his two innocent brothers were dubbed, respectively, "helm" and "hash." one more nationality was represented in number nine, those who approached the school-house with the rising sun behind them. they were scotch to a man; what was more, they proclaimed the fact upon the fence-tops and made themselves obnoxious to even the macdonalds, for after all they were only lowlanders, and how could the celt be expected to treat them as equals? when this heterogeneous assembly had all passed under the rod and seated themselves, the master tramped up to his desk and a solemn hush fell over the room. this was remarkable, for unless mcallister was in an unusually bad humour number nine buzzed like a saw-mill. but this morning the silence was intense and ominous, and for a very good reason. for only the evening before number nine had for once miscalculated their ruler's condition, and a flagrant act of disobedience had been perpetrated. mcallister had commanded that all fighting cease, and in the face of his interdict the macdonalds and the murphys, according to the established custom of the country, had manfully striven to exterminate each other. for between the oa and the flats there was an undying feud; partly hereditary, and partly owing to the fact that pat murphy considered it an impertinence on the part of anyone to come from the north when he chose to approach from the opposite direction. during school-hours a truce was preserved, all factions being united against a common foe; but as soon as school was dismissed the lines of demarcation became too obvious to be overlooked. the outlandish gaelic the macdonalds spoke when among their brethren, their irritating way of gathering clan-like for the journey home, always aroused resentment in the breasts of the assembling murphys. so, five o'clock fights had long ago become one of the institutions of the school, and in the winter when the big boys were present the encounters were frequent and sanguinary. the schoolmaster objected to all strife in which he had no part, and since the opening of the winter term he had set his face like adamant against this international warfare. but his opposition served only to increase the ardour of the combatants. in vain he scolded and thrashed. in vain he imprisoned the scots until the hibernians had had a reasonable time to make an honourable retreat. the liberated party only waited behind stumps and fallen logs, with the faithfulness of a lover to his tryst. so at last mcallister arose in his might and announced that the next time such an affair occurred he would thrash the leaders of each party within an inch of their lives. on such occasions the schoolmaster was not to be trifled with, and for a few days even the murphys were cowed. but as time passed there grew up between the belligerents a tacit understanding that just as soon as the master entered upon a less rigid frame of mind they would settle the fast accumulating scores. so the night succeeding scotty's first day at school they felt the time was ripe. roarin' sandy's archie assured all that a fight would be perfectly safe. the master's tropical season was already overdue some days, and on the morrow he was sure to be jolly. so the forbidden campaign had opened just a day too soon. it proved to be an armageddon, too; lowlander and highlander, sassenach and hibernian, they battered each other right royally, and now here they were ranged before their judge to find to their dismay that he was clear-eyed, clear-headed, and ready to inflict upon the culprits the severest penalties of the law. the strange, tense atmosphere filled scotty with vague alarm. he felt that the air was pregnant with disaster. danny murphy nudged him when the master closed his eyes for prayer and whispered that "somebody was goin' to get an awful hidin', likely the macdonalds." prayers were extremely lengthy, always a bad sign, and scotty felt his hair rise as at their close the master banged his desk lid, and glared fiercely about him. perhaps mcallister was going to thrash him for pretending he was a macdonald, he reflected fearfully. the master lost no time in going straight to the point, he knew his period of weakness was coming over him with overwhelming rapidity; one more visit to that which lay in his desk would, he knew, destroy his judgment; and struggling desperately to do what he deemed right, he put his fists firmly upon the desk lid as if to crush down the tempter and proceeded to business. "so, ye've been fighting again!" he cried, fixing the row of bigger boys with his eye. "ye uncivilised macdonald pack, an' ye savage murphy crew! tearin' at each other like wolves! aye! roarin' an' rantin' an' ragin' like a pack o' blood-hounds! ah, ye're nothing but a pack o' savages! jist uncivilised savages! but ah'll have no wild beasts in my school. ah'll teach ye! ah'll take some o' the fight out o' ye!" he glared meaningly at peter lauchie, one of the most bellicose highlanders, but that young man dodged cleverly behind pat murphy's broad shoulders. "ye'll think ah'll not find ye out?" the master shouted triumphantly. "but ah'll soon do that! aye, it was at the birch crick ye were fightin' like a pack o' wild beasts; ye thought ye were far enough away to be safe. but ah'll find out who started it!" his eye ranged quickly round the room and fell upon scotty, sitting open-mouthed straight in front of him. mcallister was not above extorting information from the younger pupils, and scotty went by the scotch line and could be made to tell. "you, ralph stanwell!" he cried, fixing the boy with an admonitory finger. "yon's your road. now, jist tell me all about this fight!" now, scotty, in his eagerness to get home, had taken the short road across the swamp and knew nothing of the affray. but he scarcely heard the master's question; he had caught only that hateful name, the name that made him an alien from the macdonalds and classed him with that baby, "hash" tucker, who was even now weeping behind his slate lest his big brother should be thrashed. scotty's face flushed crimson, his hands clenched. "are ye deef?" roared the master. "answer me my question, ralph stanwell!" the boy leaped as if he had been struck. "that will not be my name!" he cried defiantly. mcallister glared at him with wild bloodshot eyes; under other circumstances he would have been ashamed of the part he was playing; but now his nerves were raw and his temper was rendered wild by his craving. "are ye ashamed o' yer name, ye young english upstart?" he roared. that opprobrious epithet "english" swept all fear and discretion from scotty's mind. "i'll not be english!" he shouted back, "i'll be scotch, an' my name will jist be macdonald, whatever!" a low growl of approval came from the region of the macdonalds at the back of the school, and peter lauchie macdonald, who was scotty's next of kin, came out from behind pat murphy and snorted triumphantly. the master reached out his powerful arm and swept the boy up onto his desk, holding him there in a terrible grip. "ah'll macdonald ye!" he shouted, shaking him to and fro. "another macdonald to be a wild beast in the school! ah'll knock the macdonald out o' ye! ye young english wasp, ye!" scotty's face was white; but he remembered callum and held his lips firmly to keep from crying out. peter lauchie half rose, "he'll be no more english than you!" he shouted. the master turned; he was facing rebellion. "peter macdonald," he said in a low, thrilling tone, "you will go out and cut me a stick, an' when ah've taught this ill piece with it ah'll break it over your back!" peter lauchie's defiance melted in the white glare of the master's wrath. he arose and stumbled sullenly out of doors on his unpleasant errand. scotty had been placed in his especial care both by the boy's grandmother and his own mother, and his soul writhed under the master's command. outside the door he paused, weighing the chances of returning without the weapon; the master's tawse had been removed the night before, and he might put off the day of judgment until the judge collapsed. as he stood, miserably irresolute, a low hiss sounded from beneath the door. roarin' sandy's archie had crept to it on all fours. "don't be hurryin' back," he whispered eagerly, "i'll tell ye when to come!" peter lauchie stepped behind a hemlock and peeped through the window. the first glance convinced him of the wisdom of his friend's advice; delay was the watchword, for trouble had arisen in a new quarter. at one of the side desks near the platform sat nancy caldwell. nancy was the biggest girl in the school and the only person in the township of oro whom old mcallister feared. she was a handsome girl, belonging to one of the leading protestant families of the flats; she was bold and fearless and had withal such a feminine ingenuity for inventing schemes to circumvent the schoolmaster that he regarded her with something akin to superstitious awe. nancy had a big, irish heart, and it swelled with indignation when scotty was put up for execution. she shrewdly guessed that mcallister was nearing the limit of his strength, and thought she might try a tilt with him. so as he tramped angrily up and down the platform, she reached out, when his back was turned, and whisked the boy under her desk. "lie still!" she whispered. "sure, i'll murder him if he touches ye!" mcallister marched over to her, his arm raised threateningly; the girl sat and stared coolly back. for a moment the baffled man stood glaring at her. he would rather have met all the big boys in concerted rebellion than nancy caldwell, and felt that he must be fortified within before he could successfully combat her. he stepped up to his desk and clutching a half-empty bottle from it, drained the contents. the tension of the school was immediately relaxed; the pupils nudged each other and giggled and nancy caldwell laughed aloud and pulled scotty out from his hiding place. as everyone expected, mcallister sank into his chair and glared sheepishly about him, making a desperate attempt to retain his dignity. peter lauchie stepped out from his post of observation, with a light heart; and strolled off leisurely in search of a weapon. since the master was now on his way to a better frame of mind, peter was not the one to retard his happy progress; so he sauntered about, knowing that roarin' sandy's archie would summon him when the time was ripe. his commander did not fail him. with the keen eye of an old campaigner, roarin' sandy's archie saw the moment to strike. the master had worked up a little energy and was again making for nancy; now was the time to divert his attention; he beckoned to his henchman. as peter lauchie entered he showed himself a worthy follower of a worthy leader, for he strode solemnly up the aisle, dragging in his wake a respectably-sized hemlock tree, the branches of which swept up the floor and whipped the boys and girls in the faces, evoking shrieks of laughter. he paused before the master's desk and solemnly handed him the sapling. "here's the switch to hide scotty _macdonald_, sir," he said with great seriousness, and a fine emphasis on the name. the master turned like an animal at bay, and the school broke into a torrent of laughter. he grasped the tree and raised it above his head. "ah'll batter the cursed impidence out o' ye, ye curse o' a macdonald!" he roared, making a drive at the boy. but peter lauchie knew that the master need not now be taken seriously; he darted down the aisle, mcallister after him, bearing his clumsy weapon, and mowing down all within three yards of his path. the boy leaped over the wood box, dodged round the stove, upset the water pail over the girls and came careering back. number nine rose to the occasion; their year of jubilee, so long delayed, had come at last. the boys joined in the chase, and soon the master became the pursued as well as the pursuer. the girls shrieked and fled to the wall, all except such amazons as nancy caldwell and roarin' sandy's teenie, who joined in the race, materially assisting peter by getting in the master's way or catching hold of his flying coat-tails. the chase did not last long; the prey, exhausted, fled out of doors and the master subsided into a chair. he brought the school to some semblance of order and made a feeble attempt at teaching. but by the afternoon he was uproariously genial. he spent an hour conducting a competition in which the boy who could stand longest on the hot stove received the highest marks, and finally went to sleep with his feet on the desk and his red handkerchief spread over his face. but the affair was not without material benefit to scotty. in his gallant refutation of the charge against him, and in the miraculous way he had averted the master's vengeance, he had won a place in the heart of every macdonald. thereafter, no one outside the clan dared give him his english name, and at last the fact that he possessed one almost faded from his friends', as well as his own, mind. iv "cape canada" the ocean bursts in very wrath, the waters rush and whirl as the hardy diver cleaves a path down to the treasured pearl. --george herbert clarke. the days sped swiftly, and scotty learned many things both in and out of school. in the latter department his chief instructor was his nearest neighbour. peter lauchie was fourteen, and a wonderful man of the world in scotty's eyes; but in spite of the great disparity of years the two were much together. from his companion scotty learned many great lessons. the first and cardinal principle laid down was that all who hailed from the oa must wage internecine war upon the flats and must despise and ignore all english and lowlanders. another was that one might as well make up one's mind to attend to business during mcallister's glacial period, but that, when a more genial atmosphere pervaded the school, the farther one went in inventing new forms of mischief the more likely was one to become a hero. peter lauchie further explained that all pat murphy's crew were nothing but fenians. he pronounced the evil word in a whisper, and added in a more sepulchral tone that the caldwell boys and a lot more irish from the flats, yes, and "hoak" tucker's people, too, were orangemen. these terrible disclosures filled scotty with vague alarm; for, though he strove to keep his companionship a secret, there could be no doubt that most of his time at school was spent in the very pleasant company of danny murphy and "hash" tucker; and furthermore that, since the day she had saved him from old mcallister's clutches, nancy caldwell had been the bright, particular star of his existence. he had no doubt that nancy returned his devotion, either; for she brought him big lumps of maple sugar and the rosiest apples, and was always anxious that he should share her cake. of course, she was apt to exact payment for these favours, and would chase him all over the school and kiss him in spite of his fiercest struggles. but, nevertheless, nancy held his heart. surely she could not be anything very wicked. fenians he knew something about; the fenian raids had been talked of in his home ever since he could remember. orangemen might not be quite so bad. he made up his mind he would ask hamish all about it. there was quite a little circle of friends about the fire that evening; long lauchie macdonald and three of his grown-up sons had come over for a chat, and of course weaver jimmie was there, having been turned out of kirsty john's house at the point of the potato masher. like most of the highlanders, long lauchie was aptly described by his name. he was a tall, thin, attenuated man. everything about him seemed to run to a point and vanish; his long, thin hands, his flimsy pointed beard, even his long nose and ears helped out his character. he rarely indulged in conversation, coming out of an habitual reverie only occasionally to make a remark. nevertheless he was of a sociable turn and was often seen at big malcolm's fireside. the company sat round in a comfortable, hump-backed circle, emitting clouds of smoke and discussing the affairs of the empire; for these men's affections were still set on the old land, and that which touched britain was vital to them. then old farquhar started upon a tale, so long and rambling that rory took his fiddle and strummed impatiently in the background. scotty understood enough of gaelic to gather that it was the story of a beautiful maiden who had died that night when her father and brother and lover lay slain in the bloody massacre of glencoe. impatient of the high-flown gaelic phrases, scotty flew to hamish, and his indulgent chum put aside the book and told him the story, and why the macdonalds hated the name of orange. scotty went back to the fire, his cheeks aflame with excitement. hereafter he would fight everything and anything remotely connected with the name of orange. see if he wouldn't! the conversation had turned to quite a different subject. weaver jimmie had the floor now, and had almost forgotten his embarrassing appendages in the thrill of relating his one great story; the story of how his brother fought the fenians at ridgeway. "eh, eh," sighed long lauchie, "it would maybe be what the prophets would be telling, indeed, about wars and rumours of wars!" for long lauchie not only saw sermons in stones, and books in the running brooks, but discerned in the everyday occurrences about him fulfilment of dire prophecy. "hooch!" cried big malcolm, "i would rather be having a fenian raid any day than an orangeman living in the same township." long lauchie sadly shook his head and went off into a series of sighs and ejaculations, as was his way, receding farther and farther until his voice died away and he sat gazing into space. "aye, indeed, and mebby you'll be gettin' one," cried weaver jimmie, wagging his head. "pete nash himself told me that dan murphy and that connor crew an' all them low irish would be saying at the corner the other night that they would jist be gettin' up a fenian raid o' their own some o' these fine days, an' be takin' the glen, whatever." "horo!" callum fiach arose and came forward, the joy of a conflict dancing in his eyes. "hech, but i wish they would!" "whisht ye, callum!" cried his father sternly. "let the evil one alone. i'll have no son o' mine mixin' with such goin's on!" the young man eyed his father laughingly. "you'd stay at home if there was a fenian raid, wouldn't you?" he asked teasingly. big malcolm glanced uneasily towards his wife. his was a hard position to fill amid the fighting macdonalds; his whole life was a struggle between his inherited tendencies and his religious convictions. he preached peace on earth and good will towards all men; and believed implicitly that the meek should inherit the earth; but his warlike spirit was always clamouring to be up in arms, and sometimes, in spite even of the strong influence of his wife, it broke all bounds. he shook his head at his son's raillery and made no reply. not for a long time had he yielded to temptation, but he felt it was not safe to boast. "well, if the fenians ever come to take canady again, i hope i'll be there!" cried rory gaily, breaking into an old warlike jacobite air. weaver jimmie threw one leg over the other, with great nonchalance. "they may take canady, whatever; but they'll not be taking oro!" he remarked firmly. "kirsty 'll be lookin' after oro!" cried callum. "losh, but she'd bang the senses out of the wildest fenian that ever grew, if she got after him!" "they didn't take much when they did come," said long lauchie's hugh. "only a few bullets. say, though, don't you wish you'd been there?" scotty listened, his heart torn with conflicting emotions. he wanted to fight the fenians now, but with danny a fenian, and nancy and hash orangemen, what would become of him? he guessed that callum had some scheme afoot and he kept close to him all evening and heard him conferring with long lauchie's boys in low tones. there was something about the murphys, and getting them stirred up, and finally a compact to all be at the glen the following afternoon. the next day scotty used all his powers to effect a journey to the glen, too. he had some difficulty, however, for it was saturday and granny wanted him with her; but by dint of assistance from hamish he accomplished his aim, and in the afternoon he drove away on the front seat of the big sleigh between grandaddy and callum, full of exuberant joy. the glen was a small community at a bend in the river oro, just a mile east of the schoolhouse. though it was near his home, scotty had not been in it since he was a baby. he was wildly eager to see the place. to him it was a great metropolis, for it contained a tavern and a store, yes, and a real mill where they made flour. and hamish had promised to show him the great water wheel that made the mill go, and they were to spend an hour at thompson's store, and most of all he was anxious to learn the outcome of the boys' mysterious plans of the night before. the day was delightful, with all the world a gleam of blue and silver, the glittering landscape softened here and there by the restful grey tints of the forest. the blue skies with their dazzling white clouds, and the shimmering white earth with its bright blue shadows, were so bewilderingly alike that one might well wonder whether he was in heaven or on earth. the air was electric, setting the blood tingling, and, as the sleigh slipped along down the winding road that led to the river, scotty churned up and down on the seat and could with difficulty restrain himself from leaping out and turning somersaults in the snow. the highway suddenly emerged from a belt of pine forest and descended into a little round valley made by the bend in the river. here lay "the glen," the central point of the surrounding communities. scotty grew quieter and his eyes bigger as they followed the winding steep road that led into its depths. there was the mill by the river, giving out a strange rumbling sound; and beside it the house of old sandy hamilton, the miller; and there, on the northern slope of the river bank, was weaver jimmie's little shanty, with the loom clattering away inside; and right at the corner stood thompson's store and opposite it peter nash's tavern. so many houses all in one clearing! scotty could scarcely believe his eyes. and yet the poor little place had, after all, a greater importance than the child could imagine. the glen was to the grown part of the community what the school was to the younger portion. it lay within the boundaries of the four different settlements, and as clearings began to widen and social intercourse became easier, it had gradually become a place where men met for mutual help or hindrance, as the case might be. here the several nationalities mingled, and though they did not realise the fact, here they were laying the foundations of a great nation. such a vast work as this could scarcely be carried on without some commotion; the chemist must look for explosions when he produces a strange new compound from diverse elements; and it was, therefore, no wonder that the crucible in the valley of the oro was often the scene of much boiling and seething. then the tavern came, with its brain-destroying fire, and sometimes after harvest, when the fighting macdonalds and the belligerent murphys met before it, the noise of the fray might be heard in the farthest-off clearing of the oa. scotty's eyes rested fearfully on the tavern. it was a common log building, wider than the ordinary ones and with a porch in front and a lean-to behind. to the boy its appearance was a great surprise and some disappointment. grandaddy always spoke of it as "a den of iniquity"; and scotty's fancy had pictured such a den as daniel had been cast into, which he had seen many times in granny's big bible. he was rather sorry they did not stop there, the inside might be more romantic; but he soon forgot it in the excitement of other scenes; for they went to the mill and sandy hamilton, all floury and smiling, took him down to where the water came thundering over the big wheel; and then, while the boys went off with the team, big malcolm took his grandson to the most wonderful place yet, the store. this was the most important place in the glen, and the man who kept it, james thompson, or store thompson, as the neighbours called him, was the most important and influential member of the community. he was a fine, upright, intelligent man and was known far and wide for his learning. he possessed a vocabulary of polysyllables that never failed to confound an opponent in argument, and all the township could tell how he once vanquished a great university graduate, who was visiting captain herbert at lake oro. he was often identified by this illustrious deed, and was pointed out to strangers as, "store thompson, him that downed the captain's college man." big malcolm and store thompson, though the latter was a lowlander, had been fast friends ever since they had come to canada. they were slightly above the average pioneer in intelligence and had many interests in common; so for this reason, as well as a matter of principle, big malcolm avoided the tavern and spent his leisure moments with his friend. as they entered, store thompson was busy weighing out sugar for a customer, and glanced up. he was a tall man, with a kind, intelligent face and a high, bland forehead. he wore steel-rimmed spectacles, but, when not reading, had them pushed up to the scant line of hair on the top of his head, and his pale blue eyes blinked kindly at all around. he stopped in the midst of his calculations to welcome his friends. "eh, eh, malcolm, an' is yon yersel'?" he cried heartily. "it's jist a lang, lang time since ah seen ye, man; aye, an' it's the wee man ye hae. it's a lang time since ye've been to the glen; jist an unconscionably lang time; aye, jist that, jist unconscionably like!" he lingered over the word as he shook hands, and then, after inquiring for the wife and family, he turned his attention to scotty, remarked upon his wonderful growth, and his sturdy limbs, asked him how he was getting on at school and if he could spell "phthisis." scotty hung shyly behind his grandfather, and as soon as the host's attention was turned from him he escaped. he seated himself carefully upon a box of red herring, and his eyes wandered wonderingly around the shop. it was a marvellous place for a boy with sharp eyes and an inquiring mind. down one side ran a counter made of smoothed pine boards and behind it rose a row of shelves reaching to the raftered ceiling and containing everything the farmers could need, from the glass jar of peppermint drops on the top shelf to the web of factory cotton near the floor. the remaining space was crammed with merchandise. there were boxes of boots, bales of cloth, barrels of sugar and salt and kerosene, kegs of nails, chests of tea and boxes of patent medicines; and the combination of odours was not the least wonderful thing in this wonderful museum. nothing escaped scotty's eyes, from the festoons of dried apples suspended from the dark raftered ceiling to the pile of axe-handles on the floor in the corner. he sat utterly absorbed, while his grandfather and store thompson talked. there was much to tell on one side, at least, for store thompson and the schoolmaster took a weekly newspaper between them, and it all had to be gone over, especially the news from scotland. store thompson's wife, a bright, little red-checked woman came hustling in to greet big malcolm, and ask him in for a cup of tea. "ah've had the captain an' his sister an' the wee leddy to denner," she whispered proudly, "an' they'll jist be goin' in a minit, an' ye'll come an' have a cup o' tea with them, jist." but big malcolm, who had arisen at her invitation, suddenly sat down again. his face darkened, and he stoutly refused the joint invitations of husband and wife. then the lady espied scotty in his corner, and bore down upon him; she secured a handful of pink "bull's-eyes" from a jar behind the counter, and slipped them into his chubby fist, patted his curly head and declared he was "jist callum over again." and scotty smiled up at her, well pleased at being likened to his hero; but when she caught his face between her hands and tried to kiss him, he dodged successfully; for, now that he was a big boy and going to school, not even granny might kiss him in public. when she had trotted back to her guests in the house, scotty caught a few words of the conversation that aroused his interest. "ye hae the boys in wi' ye the day, malcolm?" store thompson asked, with a note of anxiety in his voice. "yes?" big malcolm looked up inquiringly. "oh, ah suppose it's jist naething, jist a--a triviality, like; but ah see there's a great crood frae the oa, the day, an' jist as many murphys an' connors; an' ah heerd a lot o' wild talk aboot fenians, an' the like. they would be sayin' pat murphy was a fenian; an' that tam caldwell would be for sendin' him oot o' the glen. ah'm hopin' there'll be nae trouble." big malcolm's face was full of anxiety. "indeed, i will be hopin' so too," he said in an embarrassed tone. "you will be knowin' my weakness. i would not be hearin' about it. i hope the lads----" "oh, ah suppose it's jist naething," said store thompson reassuringly. "indeed it's yersel' that's past all sich things as yon, malcolm, never fear." but big malcolm shook his head; for years he had purposely avoided the glen, to be out of the way of temptation; for the sound of strife was to him like the bugle call to a war charger. he fidgeted in his seat and looked anxiously towards the door. scotty went over to the window and stood watching the crowds of men come and go across the street. he could not quite make out what was going on, but there seemed to be a great commotion, for a big crowd of men had suddenly appeared from nowhere. and there was danny's father, and nancy's father, apparently having high words; and yes, there was callum right in the centre of the seething mass. there were mingled cries of "popery" and "fenians" and "orangemen." then suddenly above the noise there came a roar, "the oa! the oa! macdonald! macdonald!" "grandaddy! oh, grandaddy!" cried scotty shrilly, "they're killin' callum, they're killin' rory!" at the first sound of the macdonalds' battle-cry big malcolm raised his head like a stag who has heard a challenge, and, at the boy's cry, he cleared the intervening space with one bound, flung open the door and shot out into the street. "malcolm, malcolm!" cried store thompson in dismay, but big malcolm had heard the call to arms and nothing in the township of oro could hold him back. scotty sprang to follow him, but store thompson closed the door, and his wife, who had re-entered, put her arms about the boy and drew him back. "ye mustna gang oot there, ma lad," said the storekeeper. "yon's no place for a child; aye," he added, "an' no place for yer grandfather either!" "lemme go!" shouted scotty, struggling equally with his captor and his sobs. "they--'re--killin'--rory! lemme go!" "yer grandaddy said ye were to bide here, laddie, mind ye!" cried store thompson's wife soothingly. at the reminder of his grandfather's commands scotty collapsed. he retired to the window once more, bathed in tears of helpless rage. but another shout from the macdonalds sent him flying again to the door, where he once more encountered the ample skirts of his keeper. "ah'd niver look marget malcolm in the face again, jeames, if onything happened the bairn," she cried, struggling with scotty's sturdy muscles. "he maun jist bide!" "what in heaven's name is the matter with that child?" demanded a laughing voice from the rear of the shop. "has he an attack of spasms?" scotty stopped struggling and looked up. in his absorption over the battle outside he had not noticed that three strangers had entered the shop with store thompson's wife, and he drew back abashed. the speaker was a short, well-built man under middle age, with an air and appearance quite different from the rough exterior of scotty's own people. there was a look of command in his merry blue eyes and an air of superiority in his straight, trim figure, that impressed the child. the other two strangers stood back by the stove; one, a tall lady, the rustle of whose black silk dress gave scotty a feeling of awe, the other a tiny girl, so wrapped up in furs and shawls that he could see nothing of her, except a bunch of golden curls. "what's the matter with the confounded little fire-eater?" asked the man, coming forward. "it's all his kin that's in yon fecht oot by, sir," said store thompson's wife apologetically. "the puir wee mannie!" "oh, i see; he's starting early. i never come to the glen but you entertain me with a battle, james. a bad crowd, those fellows from the flats. what's your name, youngster? murphy, eh?" "no!" scotty shouted the refutation in indignant horror. this was worse than being english! "it will be macdonald!" "oh, by jove, one of the fighting macdonalds!" the man burst into a hearty laugh. "i might have known." "but yon's not yer real name, laddie," said store thompson's wife. "tell captain herbert yer name; it's jist a fine one. he's big malcolm macdonald's grandson, captain, but his faether was an english gentleman, like yersel, an' his mither was a bonny, bonny bit lassie; aye, an' puir marget lost her." the man was gazing down at the boy absorbedly. "what's his name?" he demanded sharply. but scotty stood silent and scowling. confess his disgrace to this man whom he knew granddaddy despised? never! "his patronymic," said store thompson ceremoniously, "is stanwell, captain; and his baptismal name is jist the same as his father's was, ralph everett; ralph everett stanwell!" when store thompson delivered himself of any such high-sounding speech he was always rewarded by signs of a deep impression made upon his hearers. he had come to look for such results; but he was totally unprepared for the expression of aghast wonder that his words produced in the face of captain herbert. "stanwell!" he cried, "ralph stanwell!" he glanced hurriedly at the two standing at the other end of the shop and an expression of relief passed over his face when he saw the tall lady was not attending. "it can't be!" he said, lowering his tone, "captain stanwell's child died with the parents!" "no, sir," said store thompson wonderingly. "big malcolm an' his son brought him from toronto when he was jist an infant." the man still stood gazing down at the boy. scotty's face was dark with anger. store thompson, who pretended to be his grandfather's friend, to publish his disgrace before these strangers! it was unbearable! "i'll not be english," he muttered. "i'll jist be scotch, an' my name's macdonald!" he clenched his fists and wagged his curly head threateningly. "he must be right," said the man eagerly. "he should certainly know." store thompson shook his head smilingly. "he lives in the oa, sir," he confided in a low tone, "an' he wants to be a macdonald. but yon's his name, nevertheless!" captain herbert turned away abruptly, as though he had not heard. "eleanor, i shall be ready almost immediately," he said to the lady in the silk gown, and, with a hasty good-bye, he stepped outside, store thompson following. scotty slipped out behind them; the fight was over, the murphys and their friends were evidently retreating. he could see his grandfather's tall, commanding form in the midst of a victorious crowd. he drew a great breath of relief. as he stood gazing proudly at them, he felt his hand touched gently by little, soft, gloved fingers. he wheeled round to find a pair of big, blue eyes looking at him from out of the coquettish rim of a fur-trimmed hood. the eyes were very sympathetic. "i'm scotch, too," came in a whisper from inside the wrappings, "an' it's nice to be scotch, isn't it?" scotty's heart opened immediately; here was someone who evidently believed in him. "but--but, won't you be captain herbert's little girl?" he asked, wonderingly. "yes," she answered with a baby-lisp, that made him feel very big and superior. "he's my uncle walter; but my mamma was scotch, an' my name's isabel douglas herbert, an' uncle walter says i'm his scotch lassie!" "oh!" scotty looked at her with new interest. "an' you're kirsty john's little girl, too, ain't you?" "yes," she cried delightedly. "do you know kirsty?" "yes." "oh, an' gran'mamma macdonald? an' weaver jimmie?" "oh, yes!" "i love jimmie; he tells lovely stories when i go to see kirsty, 'bout fairies, an'--an' everything. do you know any stories?" a silken rustle in the doorway made scotty draw back. "come, isabel," said the tall lady. she was a very pale lady, with a haughty, weary look in her eyes; and scotty wondered how the little girl could catch hold of that silk dress so fearlessly. "goo-bye," she said, pausing a moment. "goo-bye, little boy." she poked the fur-lined hood very close to his face, and scotty drew back in alarm for fear she might be going to kiss him. the little girl looked disappointed, nevertheless she smiled radiantly. "i like you," she whispered, "an' i'm comin' to visit you next time i go to kirsty's; goo-bye!" she danced off towards the sleigh, and was bundled in among the warm robes. she waved her hand to scotty as they dashed away, and turned back to gaze at him standing on the step. "man," said store thompson, stamping the snow from his feet as he entered, "ah niver saw the captain act like yon before. he was jist,--aye, he was jist what ah would call inimical; aye, jist inimical, like!" store thompson was more perturbed over the hearty captain's strange behaviour than he was over the commotion that had just taken place at his door. such affairs were of too frequent occurrence to call for comment. but when big malcolm returned for scotty, the fierce heat of the conflict still blazed in his eyes and his friend suddenly remembered what had happened. "eh, malcolm, malcolm, ah'm sorry for this!" he cried. "these fichts are no work for a chreestian man!" "and would i be sitting here, james thompson, an' see that piece o' popish iniquity kill my son?" demanded big malcolm fiercely. store thompson held up his hands. "what, what?" he cried, "would it be the murphys and the macdonalds again?" "it was a fenian raid, james!" shouted tom caldwell, coming up to the sleigh, with a proud swagger, "an' malcolm here was helpin' us orangemen put it down, sure!" weaver jimmie, his diffidence all vanished, threw his cap into the air and shouted his old shibboleth, "they may take canady, but they'll not be taking oro!" "the orangemen 'll kape canada!" cried tom caldwell reassuringly. "hoh, him an' his 'kape canada,'" cried callum fiach in disgust, as he pitched himself into the sleigh. "let's get out o' this!" "eh, eh!" cried store thompson, standing in the doorway to see them depart, "ye macdonalds are aye too ready wi' the neeves!" big malcolm took the reins and drove away without another word. the joy of battle was always succeeded by a season of depression. his old friend's reproof had already begun to work repentance in his breast. the homeward drive was silent and gloomy. even callum forbore to talk; for he was uncomfortably conscious that he had had more to do with setting the orangemen and the catholics against each other than he would like big malcolm to know. he had not foreseen that all the macdonalds would plunge into it, and his father with them, and was rather uneasy at the havoc he had caused. for this would bring sorrow upon the mother at home. but scotty could not be silent, he was alive with curiosity; and, taking advantage of his grandfather's gloomy absorption, he crept out from between the two on the front seat, and got close to the source of all knowledge, hamish. he overflowed with questions. why should the macdonalds be helping orangemen? and hadn't hash tucker's father and a lot more from the tenth been on their side, too? and how in the name of all nationalities did it happen that the caldwells and the tuckers came to be fighting together against the murphys? and weren't orangemen far worse than fenians, anyway? the confusion in scotty's mind was like that which befell the builders of the tower of babel; and for once hamish failed to satisfy him. he seemed rather ashamed of the fact that they had helped a caldwell in battle, and was rather inclined to drop the subject. that evening at home was something new to scotty. a gloomy silence pervaded the place, and there was a look in granny's eyes that made the boy want to put his head into her lap and cry. there were no prayers before they retired, either; there always came a stage in big malcolm's repentence which consisted almost entirely of religious exercises, but that was not yet. scotty felt vaguely that there was something terribly wrong, for the boys, even hamish, went off after supper, and old farquhar did not sing his accustomed song before retiring. and when scotty went up to bed in the loft he left granny praying by the bed in the corner, and he could hear the steady tramp, tramp of his grandfather's feet up and down in the snow outside. he half woke late in the night and found that hamish was beside him; the problems of the day were still troubling his dreams. "hamish," he whispered, "where's cape canady?" "what?" growled hamish sleepily. "where's cape canady? tom caldwell said somethin' about it, an' the master learned the fourth class all about capes yesterday, an' he wouldn't be saying anything about that one!" but hamish was snoring; and outside the steady tramp, tramp of feet went up and down in the snow. v the reformation o strong hearts, guarding the birthright of our glory, worth your best blood this heritage that ye guard! these mighty streams resplendent with our story, these iron coasts by rage of seas unjarred- what fields of peace these bulwarks will secure! what vales of plenty these calm floods supply! shall not our love this rough, sweet land make sure, her bounds preserve inviolate, though we die? --c. g. d. roberts. the fathers of the scottish settlement were gathered about the stove in store thompson's shop. this emporium was a respectable rival of pete nash's tavern across the way. anyone, weary of the noise and wrangling which characterised that lively establishment, might step across to store thompson's haven and find rest and quiet, a never-failing hospitality and a much better social atmosphere. to-night the company represented the best the settlement could produce, several of the macdonalds and a few of the inhabitants of the glen. big malcolm was among them. it was his first visit to the glen since the day of his disgrace, and he had not yet quite recovered his old genial spirits. one small lamp burned dimly on the counter and the forms of boxes and barrels loomed up fantastically in shadowy corners. in the circle about the stove the men's faces shone out spectrally from the cloud of smoke produced by some half-dozen pipes. as usual, store thompson was taking the lead in the conversation. he stood leaning over the counter in the little ring of light, his spectacles pushed up on his benign-looking forehead, his finger-tips brought carefully together. in company with the schoolmaster, store thompson had begun his winter's course of reading and was more than usually oratorical. "aye," he was saying, "a dictionary 's a graund institution; aye, jist a graund institution, like. when me an' the master now meets a word we dinna ken, we jist run him doon in the dictionary, an' there he is, ye see!" "oh, books will be fine things," said big malcolm, "but that hamish of ours will jist be no use when he will be getting his nose into one, whatever. and he will be making the wee man jist as bad. eh, it's him that'll make the reader!" his eyes shone as they always did at any mention of his grandson. "aye, hamish is the man for the books!" cried store thompson enthusiastically. "how is he gettin' on wi' ivanhoe?" "och, he would be finishing it the night after he brought it home, indeed; and now the little upstart will be trying his hand at it whatever." "feenishin' it in twa nichts!" cried store thompson, aghast at such extravagance. "hut, tut! yon's no way to use a book. when me an' the wife read ivanhoe last winter, we jist read a wee bit at a time for fear it wouldna last; it wes that interestin'. aye, books is too scarce to be used yon way." "and what will you and the master be reading, this winter, james?" inquired long lauchie, who had just returned from one of his mental excursions. store thompson's face beamed. "eh, it's a graund book this time, lauchie, jist an astronomy, like." "eh, losh, an' what would it be about?" "all aboot the stars, aye an' the moon an' the constellations, like." "eh, eh!" long lauchie was very much impressed. "and would it be telling about the comets, whatever?" store thompson stood erect and put his finger tips together. "a comet," he declared solemnly, "a comet, lauchlan, so far as ah can mak' oot frae the book, is jist naething more nor less than an indestructible, incomprehensible combustion o' matter; aye, jist that, like." there was an impressive silence. when store thompson took his flights through the vast spaces of knowledge he was always hard to follow, but when he soared to the heights of astronomy the district fathers felt him to be unapproachable. "'seek him that maketh the seven stars and orion.'" the silence was broken by a deep, rolling voice; a voice so powerful that even when softened, as it now was, it gave the impression of vast possibilities. the speaker was like his voice, huge and strong; the thick, waving hair covering his massive head, and his bushy beard were a dark iron-grey, which, with his strong features and bristling eyebrows, gave him the appearance of a man carved from iron. it was praying donald, the earliest pioneer of the oa, and the most pious man in many settlements. "'seek him that maketh the seven stars and orion,' that will be the word of the holy book, and it will be a poor thing to be seeking the stars first." every eye was turned upon the speaker. praying donald was a man who spoke seldom, but when he did everyone listened. "yes, indeed, it is the word of jehovah we should be reading," he continued, "for i would be reading last night, and the lord would be speaking to me through the word, and it was, 'blow ye the trumpet in zion.... let all the inhabitants of the land tremble, for the day of the lord cometh, for it is nigh at hand; a day of darkness and gloominess and of thick darkness.' and it will be this land that it will be coming upon. for there will be the drink and the fighting, and there will be no minister, and no house of the lord, for we will be in the gall of bitterness and in the bonds of iniquity. "yes, we must be praying, praying night and day, and maybe that the lord in his mercy will be sending us a minister; for if he will not be visiting us in his mercy, he will be coming in his wrath, and who shall stand in the day of his judgment?" weaver jimmie flung one leg over the other nervously. long lauchie sighed, and store thompson murmured, "undeniable, undeniable." but big malcolm sat staring at the speaker as if fascinated. praying donald's life of stern piety, and his knowledge of the laws governing human action, had often enabled him to foresee events, and had given him the reputation of a prophet. the memory of the scene in which he had so lately taken part came over big malcolm with overwhelming force. "it is the true word," he whispered, as though smitten with a sudden fear. "och, and it will be malcolm macdonald that will be visited in wrath for his sins, whatever!" "ye're richt, donald," said store thompson, at length, "what wi' the whuskey an' the wild goin's on this place is jist in a bad state. but it's thae eerish. man," he continued emphatically, "thae eerish, whether catholic or protestant, are jist a menace to the country, aye, jist yon, jist a menace, like!" "it is the oa that will be as bad as the flats," said praying donald relentlessly. "they will be forsaking their god and be following after their own evil desires!" long lauchie suddenly opened his eyes. he was in the habit of seizing upon a remark and retiring with it slowly, repeating it over and over in a lessening whisper until he was lost in the echoing caverns of imagination, and was wont to emerge from these absent fits suddenly with the air of a diver who comes to the surface with a great treasure. he came to life at this moment, his eyes wide open, his manner alert; "eh, it will be a fulfilment o' the prophecy o' jeremiah, 'out of the north an evil shall break forth upon all the inhabitants of the land.' eh, eh, out o' the north--the north--it would perhaps be meaning the oa," he whispered fearfully to weaver jimmie. "out of the north--the north----" his voice gradually died away and he was lost in meditation. "this place is not like the auld land," said old sandy hamilton, moodily. "man, we werna bothered wi' ony fenians, nor orangemen, nor sik like there!" "times'll be better now the murphys know their place," said weaver jimmie confidently, pitching one leg over the other. "callum led a fine charge. the fenians may take canady, but they'll not----" "hooch!" big malcolm broke in fiercely. weaver jimmie did not properly belong either by age or sentiments to this gathering, and his remark regarding callum was very much out of place. "yon son o' mine will jist be a breeder o' mischief in this place, james macdonald!" he cried, "an' it's little check you will be on him, whatever. it is high time, indeed, that ye were both settlin' down an' stoppin' such doings! but och, och," he added with a sudden change of tone, "it is myself will be the worst of them all." weaver jimmie heaved a sentimental sigh. "it will not be any fault of mine that i will not be settled down," he muttered gloomily. praying donald's rumbling voice had arisen again. "yes, oh yes, the evil will be growing; and the judge will be coming in his wrath and we will jist be like sodom and gomorrah!" "oh, indeed," broke in store thompson, "the good lord is slow to anger and of great mercy, donald, ye mind!" "mercy!" roared praying donald. "eh, james, do not be deceiving yourselves! he will be just. we must be reaping what we sow. this place is sowing the wind and it will be reaping the whirlwind. 'for i the lord thy god am a jealous god, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me.'" long lauchie came suddenly to the surface, this time with a precious pearl: "and showing mercy unto thousands," he continued softly. "oh, yes, indeed and indeed, unto thousands, mercy unto thousands!" he sank again into the ocean of his imagination, and the tide of conversation flowed over him unheeded. "'visiting the sins of the father upon the children,'" repeated big malcolm bitterly. he dropped his head into his hands and groaned. there was a long silence. these men were facing a great problem in the building up of this new nation, one which presented graver difficulties than they had met even in the toil and stress of breaking the forest. in the early days the social problem had not arisen; the settler had been too busy to permit of its troubling him. he needed all his time and strength to battle with this new land and compel her to give him his due of bread and shelter. but now, the stern young stepmother was yielding to those whom she recognised as worthy to be her sons, and was rewarding them with wider pasture-lands and waving fields of grain. now the pioneer found time to draw breath and look about him. all through the years of weary hardship, homesickness for the old land had been heavy on his heart and his love for it had grown. and now, with some time for sentiment and reflection, he found his thoughts turning thither; old loves were re-awakened, old traditions revived, old enmities fanned into flame. the still wild stretches of forest called on all sides for wild, free action; the wind swept down over the oro hills, straight from the vast expanse of the great lakes, setting the blood leaping for vigorous action. little wonder, then, that in their first days of leisure men should go a few steps farther back towards the savage stage from which we are all such a short distance removed. and little wonder, too, that the wiser ones trembled lest their new land of promise, now so smiling, so prodigal of her favours, might be scarred with the marks of evil. and so, these simple seers, these men, ignorant in the world's wisdom, but many of them secure in the knowledge of one, whom to know is life eternal, turned in their fear and perplexity to the fountain-head of righteousness. "we must be having a prayer meeting, lads," said praying donald at length. "we could be having them all this winter, once a week, and maybe the good lord will be sending us a minister." "eh, if we could get a meenister like auld angus mcgregor!" said store thompson. "ah jist heerd him once, but it was a veesitation, aye, jist a veesitation, like. d'ye mind yon sermon, lauchie, on 'simon peter, lovest thou me'?" long lauchie awoke from his reverie with a start. the mention of the great scottish preacher set going a train of tender memories. "eh, mr. mcgregor!" he cried, "mr. mcgregor,--eh, there will not be such men nowadays i will be fearing. he was the man of god, indeed--yes--oh, yes----" and as he faded away into the distance, the others made the necessary arrangements. they would hold a series of prayer meetings in the oa and the glen to last during the winter. store thompson made a feeble suggestion that they might join the methodists, tom caldwell's faction in the flats. for tom, who was as active at wrestling in prayer as in any other sphere, in company with the population of the tenth, had secured the services of a primitive methodist preacher, and was holding nightly meetings in the schoolhouse, where much good was done. but the noisy devotions of the flats met with little favour in the sight of the oa. praying donald, conscious of the purity of their motive, had visited the methodists once, and had now little to say in commendation. "they will be doing the best they know, james," he declared, "but the lord will be taking no pleasure in tumult and confusion, and we will jist be holding our meetings at the neighbours' houses, whatever." and so the first meeting was arranged to be held at long lauchie's, and, before parting, the little group knelt about the boxes and bales, and in low, solemn tones like the breaking of waves on a rocky shore, praying donald besought the eternal father for a blessing on this new land and an instilling of the righteousness that exalteth a nation. the news of the meeting was spread through the community, chiefly by weaver jimmie; and was received with much thankfulness by most of the people, who had been longing all the days of their exile for something resembling the church services of the old land. when the night of the first meeting arrived, scotty was in a state of carefully subdued excitement. he knew by his grandfather's manner that the occasion was one calling for solemnity of demeanour; but he could not help feeling very much worked up over the thought of going away from home after dark; it made one feel almost as big and important as callum. he could scarcely believe his senses when they covered the fire, closed the door and all drove away in the big sleigh. granny sat on the front seat beside grandaddy, another strange circumstance, for granny never went anywhere either by day or by night, except when a neighbour was sick. scotty further emphasised his grown-up feeling by sitting behind with the boys; they conversed in low tones, and callum said he'd "a good mind to skedaddle off into the bush." but they were unusually quiet. rory even forbore to whistle, and the boy found he had to amuse himself by peering into the silent blackness of the pine forest, or gazing up at the strip of clear star-spangled heavens that shone between the lines of trees. long lauchie's house, which stood on a hill at the end of a very long lane, was brightly lighted and very silent. this last fact was worthy of note, for what with the misdemeanours of long lauchie's own sons, and the assistance they received from big malcolm's boys, the place had long been a rival of pete nash's establishment for noise, though, happily, it was of a much more innocent character. the room they entered, kitchen, dining-room and living-room, was furnished, like all the pioneers' homes, with the plainest necessities; but long lauchie's family had grown-up girls in it, and the place showed the touch of their fingers; a few bright rugs on the floor, and on the wall some pictures in homemade frames. then there were some oil lamps, replacing the candles, and the house was so far in the van of progress as to possess a stove, which added not a little to the comfort, and detracted much from the picturesqueness, of the room. the family consisted of a troop of boys and girls, all ages and sizes, from big, six-foot hector to little tangle-haired betty. they were already gathered, and several of the neighbours' families had arrived and were seated on the improvised benches along the wall. there were praying donald's family, store thompson and his wife, several others representative of the oa and the glen, and, of course, weaver jimmie. jimmie's face shone with soap and excitement, and his manner was a series of embarrassed convulsions; for kirsty john, the cruel object of his hopeless love, was there. a fine, big, strapping young woman she was, with a strong face, and a pair of fearless, black eyes. she sat bolt upright against the log wall, talking to mary lauchie, a sweet, pale-faced girl; and occasionally casting a withering glance in the direction of the bench behind the stove, where the weaver was alternately striving to efface himself and to attract her attention. scotty soon managed to slip away from his grandmother, and join betty and peter in a corner. he found them in the same state of subdued excitement as he was himself. peter informed him in a joyous whisper that there was a big cheese in the cupboard, and a johnny cake and blackberry preserves for the visitors, before they left. scotty's interest in this delightful disclosure did not prevent his noticing callum's entrance. callum had gone with hector to put up the team and now came marching in, the object of many admiring glances. he displayed none of weaver jimmie's diffidence; but went straight over to where mary lauchie sat, and whispered in her ear, and mary flushed and smiled and her plain face grew quite pretty. even kirsty was gracious to the handsome youth, and poor jimmie nearly twisted his neck out of joint in his jealous efforts to do something commendable in her sight. but all sounds were suddenly hushed, for praying donald was rising to announce the first psalm: "i waited for the lord my god, and patiently did bear, at length to me he did incline my voice and cry to hear." his deep, rumbling voice had just completed the first few lines when he was interrupted by a clatter of bells. the door swung suddenly open, and, to the amazement of all the assembled scots, in stalked tom caldwell with his wife and family! the appearance of the leader of methodism in the stronghold of the presbyterians was naturally unexpected; but tom caldwell had been very friendly with the macdonalds since the day they "cleared the glen of popery," as he said, and hearing that they were about to imitate the flats in having a season of prayer, had journeyed all the way to the oa, resolved to give the neighbours a helping hand in the good work, and infuse a little life and fire into the dead bones of presbyterianism. the leaders arose and shook hands with the newcomer solemnly, but heartily; while long lauchie's wife and daughters welcomed the family. "sure, it's the right track ye're on, donald!" cried tom caldwell heartily, as he seated himself and gazed happily about him; "the glen's gettin' to be like sodom, that's what it is, an' it's mesilf that couldn't be lettin' the matin' pass widout comin' up an' givin' ye a helpin' hand. we'll bring down a blessin', glory be; so let's jist fire ahead an' have a rousin' time!" the macdonald brethren looked at each other rather aghast. tom caldwell's fervour, though well-meant, was a foreign element, savouring of irreverence and methodistic confusion; but his hearty good will was irresistible; long lauchie gave him the place of honour next to the leader, and the meeting commenced. scotty scarcely heard the words of the psalm, for to his delight he found that nancy had come, too, and was there seated beside her mother. in spite of the fact that nancy was irish and tainted with orange sentiments, scotty had found it impossible to tear her from his heart. he had long since made up his mind that when he grew big he would go to see her instead of betty in the evenings. he wondered what callum would think of her, and glanced up to see that young man staring with all his might at the subject of his thoughts. nancy was certainly worth a stare; in spite of the fact that she was still at school, she was quite one of the young ladies of the flats, and when occasion demanded could deport herself quite becoming the name. her black, curly hair was tied up with a scarlet ribbon that matched her cheeks, her eyes were irish blue, limpid and dancing, and she had a dimple in the centre of her saucy chin. seeing callum so absorbed, scotty slid softly up to him. "that's nancy!" he whispered proudly. "is it?" said callum, with an air of surprise. "where?" "why, there beside granny, where you're lookin'. ain't she pretty?" "oh, i guess so." callum showed an indifference that greatly disappointed his nephew. probably, though, he considered, callum would not think of admiring an irish girl. at that moment the girl raised her eyes and glanced in their direction. she encountered scotty's eager gaze, and returned it with a brilliant, laughing glance; then her eyes met callum's and she instantly turned away with a coquettish toss of her head. scotty felt she surely might have smiled at callum, too. he glanced up at the young man again and was rather troubled. he was sure callum must be very angry at either him or nancy, for he had never seen his face get red like that unless he were in a rage. but, meantime, praying donald had finished the interrupted psalm and roarin' sandy had started the tune. the elder men caught it up, then the women, and lastly the young men about the stove, and the song swelled out slow and solemn, the deep, full-chested notes rolling out into the winter night where the glittering stars and the solemn, silent forest seemed to give back in grand reverberations the words: "he put a new song in my mouth our god to magnify!" in the hush that followed, praying donald read a chapter from the holy word, read it in tones that arrested the most careless listener, and even scotty felt a little tingle go over him at the yearning words: "as the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, o god. my soul thirsteth for god, for the living god." and then they all knelt in prayer, old and young, serious and careless; all bowed before the god for whom their souls, whether they realised it or not, panted as the hart for the cooling streams. the prayers were all the heartfelt repetition of the sentiment expressed in the psalm. these pioneers were children in a strange land, surrounded by new conditions, and in their wise simplicity went as children to a father for what they most needed. after praying donald came big malcolm, then store thompson, and roarin' sandy, and then the leader called upon tom caldwell. tom caldwell's big irish heart was overflowing with good-will to his scottish neighbours; and carried away by his emotions, he prayed long and loud and shouted hallelujahs in a manner that rather alarmed the company. indeed, store thompson's wife, who was considered quite a genteel person in the community, declared afterwards that "it jist garred her ears tingle," and store thompson himself, though never given to censure anyone, admitted that though tom certainly had a fine gift of prayer, he was, "jist a wee thing tumultuous-like." the meeting had been very solemn and the youngest person there very well-behaved during the earlier prayers, but after tom caldwell came the host of the evening, and the young men began to grow restless. for long lauchie was never so long as when at his devotions. indeed, for years it had been the scandal of the oa that his sons were in the habit of slipping out during family worship to attend to the "chores" about the stable, returning to appear decorously upon their knees when their father arose. at callum fiach's suggestion the "lauchie boys" even arranged a competition in which the five sons strove to see who could make the longest excursion during prayer-time. the palm was yielded to hughie, the third son, who crossed the swamp on skis one evening, and saw kirsty john chase the weaver from her door with the porridge stick, arriving home, breathless but triumphant, just before the amen was pronounced. no one quite believed hughie's story, until it was ruefully corroborated by jimmie himself; whereupon the limit was declared to be reached, and the boys turned their attention to new fields. but on this first prayer-meeting night, spurred on by the enthusiasm of the company, long lauchie bade fair to give his sons ample opportunity to journey through the length and breadth of the township of oro and return before he was finished. the pious old man had a fine poetic temperament, and to-night he soared beyond anything his family had ever heard. the petition ramified and expanded to an alarming length, and still showed no signs of stopping. even mrs. lauchie, whose chief pride was her husband's devotional fluency, was somewhat concerned. there was a restless movement among the young men about the stove. scotty twisted and squirmed and tried in vain to be still. it was very wicked to open one's eyes during prayer, he knew. roarin' sandy's johnny had told him that if he did he might see the deil standing behind him. and since then scotty had been divided between dread of the awful apparition and a natural desire to see what his satanic majesty looked like. he was ashamed of his restlessness, for callum was kneeling beside him motionless. callum would think him a baby if he moved. he peeped cautiously through his fingers at his uncle. callum was kneeling at the bench, absolutely still, indeed, but with his eyes wide open and staring straight at the black, curly head of tom caldwell's daughter. scotty felt that if it were not very wicked, he would like to straighten up like that and stare at somebody, too. it looked so big and manly. mastering his fears, he turned cautiously in the direction of betty, but betty had slipped to the floor with her tousled yellow head on the bench, and was sound asleep. scotty closed his eyes again, the droning voice of long lauchie floated farther and farther away, he felt himself going, too, somewhere, into immeasurable space, until at last he dropped into the gulf of oblivion. he half woke to find granny tying a muffler round his neck. he made an ineffectual effort to stop her, for she was saying, "eh, eh, granny's poor, wee, sleepy lamb," and he dreaded lest peter should hear her; only peter, like all the other people, seemed an immeasurable distance away. someone else was bending over him, too, and saying, "and you'll be sure to let him come, then?" "but i'm afraid he would jist be a trouble to yer mother, kirsty," granny answered. "tuts, not a bit!" was the reply. "mother'll jist be glad o' him, an' the wee isabel would be lonely. ah'm glad she's comin', for mother's jist wearin' to see her again, an' miss herbert's sick, poor lady.". "oh, well, indeed he can go, kirsty, an' i hope he will not be rough with the little lady." "not him." scotty felt a strong, rough hand pass gently over his curls. "when she comes ah'll send ye word by yon loon o' a weaver. it'll give him somethin' to do, an' the buddie's jist fair in want for a job." "ah, kirsty, kirsty!" whispered granny, "it's too hard ye'll be on poor jimmie. take my advice an' marry him, he'll be a good man to you, indeed! there's the sleigh. come, hamish, lad, take the lamb out, he will be jist dead asleep, whatever." as scotty passed out like a sack of potatoes on hamish's shoulder, the rush of clear, cold air partly revived him. he cuddled under the blanket close to granny, and dimly heard the good-nights as each sleigh-load moved down the long lane, not gaily spoken as when the neighbours came in for an evening, but low and subdued, for all were under the spell of the season of prayer. he heard granny say, "where's callum? don't be leaving the lad," and a voice answered, "he's yonder helpin' tom caldwell to hitch," and then callum sprang in, and the sleigh creaked slowly forward, and scotty slid away once more down the dim road of dreamland. vi an ignominious task into the dim woods full of the tombs of the dead trees soft in their sepulchres, where the pensive throats of the shy birds hidden pipe to us strangely entering unbidden, and tenderly still in the tremulous glooms the trilliums scatter their white-winged stars. --abchibald lampman. winter passed, and then came the spring, with its fresh, warm winds coming up from lake simcoe and sweeping away the ice and snow in a mad, joyous rush of water. scotty went barefoot just as soon as there was enough bare ground to step upon. he seemed for a time to cast aside all restraint with his shoes and stockings, and when not in school lived a freebooter's life in the forest. he and bruce spent much time wandering, plundering and exploring from the edge of the corduroy road where the musk and marigolds and fleur-de-lis grew in glorious profusion all through the green and golden depths to where the river oro slipped from its sweet enthralment of reeds and water lilies to go bounding away down the valley to lake simcoe. the whole place was a plantation of treasures and teemed with sounds of life: the blue-jay, the song-sparrow, the robin, the noisy, red-winged black-bird, the plaintive pee-wee, the far-off, clear-ringing whitethroat, the jolly woodpecker, the noisy squirrel, and the shy raccoon--scotty knew them all intimately, learned their ways and lived their life. he was given to much idle roaming through the swamp, on the way to and from school, too, and when he went to bring home the cows he remained longer than even granny could excuse. for that simple task should have been performed in a very short time. he could trace the cattle through the woods with the sure instinct of a sleuth-hound, could distinguish spotty's tracks from cherry's, and might have found his own little heifer's in the midst of the public highway. but his skill did not help to make him any more expeditious, for he often forgot his errand and would lie full length upon the ground, gazing up into the restless, swishing, green sea above, and dreaming wonderful dreams. callum declared he was a lazy little beggar and ought to be cowhided to make him move, though where one could be found to perform that necessary operation the macdonald family were not prepared to say. that he did not altogether develop into a little savage was entirely due to granny's tender care. nowhere was the influence of her beautiful character felt so strongly as by the little grandson. she, who could command her grown-up sons by her mere presence, and who was slowly but surely transforming big malcolm's wild nature, was quietly moulding the boy's character. scotty early learned the great lessons of life, the lessons of truth and right, and was well grounded in the knowledge of the things that are eternal. he could read the bible before he ever entered school, and could repeat the shorter catechism with a rapidity that sometimes alarmed granny, as savouring of irreverence. he learned a verse of scripture by heart every evening of his life, and the sabbath was a grand review day. sunday was always a red-letter day in scotty's life, for he generally had granny to himself. not that the others were away; for big malcolm, who generally ruled his household rather laxly, sternly forbade sabbath visiting. but the boys wandered off to the barn or the woods after morning prayers, and big malcolm dozed, or smoked, or read his bible. and then granny and her boy would climb the little hillock beside the house and sit under the silver maple. this was a fine position, for one could see lake oro, stretched out there blue and sparkling in its ring of forest, and far away to the south, a glittering string of diamonds and turquoise where lake simcoe lay smiling in the sun, and now and then, where a clearing opened the view, the blue flash of the river. and there, with the soft rustle of the green and silver canopy above, and around the scent of the clover and the basswood blossoms, scotty lay with his head in granny's lap and heard wonderful stories of one who sat on a hill and spoke to the multitude as never man yet spake. and never afterwards, though he sometimes wandered from granny's teachings, did those sabbath days lose their hold upon his life. and so the spring slipped into summer, and one evening a new element came into his life. he was lying on the doorstone, his feet in the cool, dewy grass, dreamily watching the fireflies sparkling away down in the pasture by the woods, and listening to the hoarse cry of the night hawks as they swooped overhead. it was a warm evening, and the leaves of the silver maple, still touched by the hot glow of the sunset, hung motionless in the still air. rory came out with his fiddle, and, sitting with his chair tilted against the house, droned out a low, sweet, yearning song for bonny prince charlie who would return no more, no more. grandaddy sat near on a bench smoking contentedly. since the day of the first prayer meeting at long lauchie's, big malcolm had lived a life of peace, and had once more regained his attitude of happy, kind complacency. old farquhar was gone; he had disappeared when the silver maple was putting forth its buds, and had gone "a kiltin' owre the brae," as he musically expressed it to scotty; but everyone knew that he would come back in the autumn as surely as the wild ducks went south. indoors, close to the candle, sat hamish poring over "waverley," and callum could be heard tramping about in the loft, preparing to go off for the evening. callum took great pains with his toilette these evenings, scotty noticed, though the boys did not tease him any more about going to see mary lauchie; indeed, there were no more good-natured allusions to his courtship. instead, scotty had overheard rory tell callum, in the barn one day, that "he'd go sparkin' old teenie mccuaig, though she was seventy and hadn't a tooth in her head, before he'd be seen going down to the flats to see an irish girl." and callum had seized him by the shoulders and flattened him up against the wall until he roared for mercy. there was always something in the home atmosphere when callum started off of an evening now that vaguely reminded scotty of those terrible days following grandaddy's fight in the glen. he felt anxiously that his hero was doing something of which his family disapproved, and wondered fearfully what it might be. his mind was turned from the contemplation of these difficulties by a sudden change in rory's tune. he stopped in the midst of his low, wailing dirge and struck up loudly the lively air that told again and again of the mirth produced when "jinny banged the weaver." scotty raised his head and looked across the pasture-field. that tune always ushered weaver jimmy upon the stage, and there he was, coming over the field, easily recognisable by his huge feet. before he reached them, the macdonalds could see that his face was shining with unusual joy. "come away, jimmie, man," called big malcolm, "it will be a warm night, whatever." but the weaver was too happy to notice anything wrong with the weather. "hoots, it will be a fine night for all that, a fine night; and how will you be yourself, mrs. macdonald?" "perhaps you'll find it chilly enough if you go round by kirsty's, jimmie," suggested rory. "hooch!" jimmie flung one leg over the other with more than usual vigour. "and that is jist where you will be mistaken, rory malcolm, i will jist be coming from there," he admitted with an embarrassed quiver. "that's what you're generally doin'; how fast did you come?" "whisht, whisht, rory," cried his mother. "it's the foolish lad he is, jimmie, don't be listening to him. and indeed it's kirsty john will be the fine girl, so good and so kind to her poor mother. and how would the mother be to-night, jimmie?" "oh, jist about the same, jist about the same; but," he lowered his voice confidentially, "what do you suppose she would be doin' the night?" "she" was understood to mean kirsty; for jimmie never dared take her name upon his tongue. "giving you a clout on the head, most like," ventured rory. the weaver did not deign to notice him. "she would be sending me over here on a message!" he cried, and his face shone as if illuminated from within. "hech! yon's good news, jimmie!" cried big malcolm. "you're comin' on!" "she'll be sendin' you on a message to another world some o' these days," said callum coming to the door, looking very handsome, ready for departure. "oh, indeed it's yourself had better be lookin' after your own sparkin', callum fiach!" cried weaver jimmie jovially. "you'll not be likely to find it as easy as i will, whatever." callum turned away with an embarrassed laugh, rory following him. he did not answer weaver jimmie's raillery, as he would have done under other circumstances, for he had caught a look on his father's face that betokened trouble. big malcolm's eyes flashed angrily and he took his pipe from his mouth as though to call after his son; but his wife's gentle voice interposed. she had, so far, by her quiet tact, kept the father and son from an open rupture. "and what would kirsty be doing?" she asked, striving to keep her anxiety from showing in her voice. a spasm of joy jerked one of the weaver's legs over the other. "she would be sending me over here on a message. a good sign, i will be thinkin'," he added, lowering his voice, for the young men were scarcely out of earshot. "yes, indeed, a good sign, i will be thinkin'. the wee lady from the captain's came the other day and she would be sending me to get scotty to come and play with her." scotty raised his head. "hoh!" he scoffed, "play with a girl!" big malcolm laughed indulgently. "see yon, jimmie!" he said, "he'll not be so anxious to go to kirsty's as some people, indeed." jimmie grinned delightedly. nothing pleased him more than to be twitted about his devotion to his lady. "oh, but he must be going," said granny. "the little girl would be lonely and i would be promising kirsty last winter that he would go." "grandaddy don't like her uncle, anyhow," said scotty. big malcolm took his pipe from his mouth. the boy had mentioned a fact for which his grandfather had excellent reasons, but he did not choose that it should be made so apparent to the general public. "that will be none o' your business, lad," he said sternly, "an' when kirsty wants ye, ye'll go." scotty made no reply; he was not quite so chagrined as he would have others think. he really wanted to see the little girl with the yellow curls and the big, blue eyes, and demonstrate to her that he was not english, no not one whit. so the next morning he set off across the swamp towards kirsty john's clearing. it was a relief that grandaddy and the boys had gone for a day's work to the north clearing. this was a tract of timber on the shore of lake oro which was partially cleared, and upon which callum hoped some day to settle. the distance to it was some miles, and they had taken their dinner and supper; so scotty felt his disgraceful secret was safe. he was a long time on the way, of course, for bruce had gone to the north clearing too and his master had to do double work in racing after chipmunks. then he loitered purposely, for he was going for the first time in his life to pay a formal visit, and that to a girl. the situation was such as no discreet person would plunge into without due deliberation. so the sun was high in the heavens when at last he saw ahead of him the golden light that betokened a clearing, and heard the sound of farm life echoing down the forest avenues. kirsty john's farm was a small, rough clearing near the scotch line. there were two or three fields, and in the centre of them a log shanty and a small stable. everything about the place was very neat; for kirsty's mother was a lowlander and one of the most particular of that great race of housekeepers. the little barnyard, ingeniously fenced off with rough poles, the small patch of grass around the doorway, the neat little flower garden, all showed signs of a woman's tasteful hand. but kirsty could do the man's part as well. black john macdonald had died some years before, leaving his invalid wife to the care of their only child. and kirsty's care had been of the tenderest; and if in the rough battle of life she became a little rough and masculine, the poor crippled mother felt none of it. kirsty managed everything with a strong, capable hand, from felling trees to spinning yarn and making butter. she received plenty of help, of course; big malcolm and long lauchie were her nearest neighbours, and their families vied with each other in seeing who could do the most for her. weaver jimmie, too, would have been willing to let the weaving industry go to ruin if kirsty would but let him so much as carry in a stick of firewood on a winter evening; but kirsty kept her despised suitor so busy saving himself from violent bodily injury, when in her presence, that his assistance was not material. scotty could see her now as he came down the forest path. she was working in the little rough hayfield, pitching up the forkfuls of hay on to a little oxcart with masculine energy. her skirt was turned up, showing a striped, homespun petticoat, and beneath it her strong bare ankles. her pink calico sunbonnet made a dash of colour against the cool green of the woods. scotty took a leap at the low brush fence that surrounded the clearing and went over it in one bound. then he stood stock still with sudden surprise; for there, right in front of him, seated on a low stump with an air of patient expectancy, was a small figure almost enveloped in a big, blue sunbonnet. "oh!" cried scotty in amazement. "oh!" echoed the blue sunbonnet. it came suddenly to life, leaped from the stump and pitched itself upon him. "oh, oh! i've been watching for you just hours and hours, and i thought you weren't never, _never_ coming!" the visitor did not know what to say. he was scarcely prepared for such an effusive welcome, and was suddenly seized with a fit of shyness. "you're scotty, aren't you?" she asked. he nodded and the vision laughed aloud and clapped its small hands. the blue sunbonnet toppled off, showing a shower of riotous golden curls, tumbled about in delightful confusion; her eyes, big and blue, danced with joy. "oh, oh, i'm so glad!" she cried. "i 'membered you ever since i saw you in that funny little shop!" scotty stared still harder. to hear store thompson's establishment designated by such terms was beyond belief. "i 'membered your eyes!" she added, nodding confidentially. her baby way of saying "'member" restored scotty's confidence in himself. "well, i will remember you, too," he admitted sedately. she laughed again and capered about him, while he stood and looked at her rather puzzled. he did not see anything to laugh at, and did not yet comprehend that here was a creature so joyous by nature that she must laugh and dance about from sheer spontaneous delight. "oh, i'm so glad!" she reiterated for the tenth time. "i'll race you to the house!" she darted down the hill like a swallow, her golden hair blown back, her little white bare feet twinkling over the grass. but scotty was a very greyhound for speed. he leaped after her and in a moment forged ahead. when he had gone sufficiently far to show her how fast he could run, he looked back to find her limping slowly after him. the boy's tender heart, always quick to respond to the sight of pain, suddenly smote him. he ran swiftly back. "what's the matter?" he asked. "a fisel," she said plaintively, dropping upon the grass and showing him the sole of her tender little foot. running barefoot was not even to be mentioned at home, and she had not yet grown accustomed to the "freedom of the sod." scotty, whose sturdy little brown feet were shod with leather of their own making, stared contemptuously; she must certainly be a baby to be hurt so easily. nevertheless, he bent down and extracted the tormentor with the skill acquired in many summers' apprenticeship. then he regarded her with half-disdainful amusement, his shyness all vanished. "can't you say thistle?" he inquired. the big blue eyes regarded him innocently. "i did say fisel," she declared wonderingly. "no, you didn't, you would jist be saying 'fisel.'" she stared a moment, then laughed aloud, a clear little bubbling irresistible laugh, and this time scotty laughed with her. he seated himself cross-legged upon the grass and proceeded to catechise her. "your name will be isabel, won't it?" "imph--n--n," the blue bonnet nodded emphatically, "isabel douglas herbert, an' my mamma was scotch, an' my uncle walter says i'm his scotch lassie." scotty nodded approval. he could not quite understand, however, how she could be scotch and live with the english gentry on the shores of lake oro instead of in the oa. "where does your mother live?" he inquired dubiously. "in heaven," said the little one simply, "an' my papa lives there too." "oh," said scotty, "an' my father and mother will be living there too, whatever." he was not to be outdone by her in the matter of ancestry. "do they? oh, isn't that nice? i guess they visit each other every day. an' you live with your granma, don't you?" scotty nodded. "have you got a granny too?" "no, only granma macdonald here, but i've got an auntie an' an uncle, an' a cousin. his name's harold. have you got a cousin?" "no." scotty's face fell. "no, i don't think i will be having any, unless mebby callum an' rory an' hamish would be my cousins, whatever." "who's callum?" scotty sat up straight, his eyes shining. callum! why, he was the most wonderful man in all the township of oro; and thereupon he proceeded to give her a detailed account of the wonderful achievements of "the boys"; how callum was so big and so strong and could run the logs down the river better than anyone else; how rory could play the fiddle and dance; and, oh, the stories hamish could tell! the blue eyes opposite him grew bigger. "oh," their owner exclaimed delightedly, "i'm going over to your place to see you some day, an' we'll get hamish to tell us 'bout fairies an' things, won't we? you'll let me come, won't you?" scotty hesitated. a girl at home might be a great inconvenience and at best would certainly be an embarrassment; but his whole life's training had taught him that one's home must ever be at the disposal of all who would enter, and anyone who would not must be urged, even though that person were the niece of captain herbert. so he answered cordially, "oh, yes, 'course, if you want to come." miss isabel sighed happily. "oh, i think you're awful nice!" she exclaimed. "and is your name just scotty?" "yes!" cried scotty, very emphatically, "scotty macdonald." "but that isn't all, is it? there's sumpfin' more?" "no!" exploded scotty, "there ain't! some bad folks would be saying that would be my name; but it will be jist scotty, whatever. and," he looked threatening, "i don't ever be playing with anybody that would be calling me that nasty english name." his listener seemed properly impressed. "i won't never call you anything but just scotty!" she promised solemnly. a call from the house summoned them; kirsty had hurried in and was searching the milk-house for bannocks and maple syrup. the children ran through the little barnyard, causing a terrible commotion among the fowl, and up the flower-bordered path to the shanty door. scotty had not been at kirsty's since the summer before, when granny took him to see the poor sick woman who lay in bed weary month after weary month, and now he drew shyly behind his little hostess. "come away, scotty man!" called kirsty heartily. "come away, mother's wantin' to see ye!" the door of the little log shanty stood open, revealing a bare, spotless room with whitewashed walls. there were a couple of old chairs and a rough bench scrubbed a beautiful white like the floor; a curtain of coarse muslin, white and glistening, draped the little window, and a picture of bobby burns in a frame made from the shells of lake oro, and another of the youthful queen victoria and the prince consort in a frame ingeniously wrought from pine cones hung on the wall. a tall cupboard and an old clock with its long hanging weights looked quite familiar and home-like to scotty. but over in the corner by the window was a sight that struck him painfully and made him draw back. an old four-post bed stood against the log wall and in it lay the shrivelled little figure of kirsty's mother propped up with pillows. she was bent and twisted with rheumatism, like a little old tree that had been battered by storms. but her face was brave and bright, and from it shone a pair of brown eyes with a pathetic inquiry in them as of a dumb, uncomprehending creature in pain. she wore a stiff white cap on her thin grey hair, a snowy mutch covered her poor crooked shoulders, and everything about her was beautifully neat and clean, showing her daughter's loving care. "heh, mother!" cried kirsty cheerfully, "here's marget malcolm's boy at last. come, scotty, and mother will be seeing how big you are." the old woman took the boy's sturdy brown hand in her own poor crooked ones as well as she was able, and peered eagerly into his face. "eh, eh!" she cried musingly. "he will be some like marget's lass, but he's his faether's bairn; eh, he's got the set an' the look o' yon fine english callant, forbye the macdonald eyes." the aforementioned macdonald eyes drooped and the rosy macdonald lips pouted at the word english. "he's awful nice, isn't he, granma macdonald?" whispered the little girl. the old woman gazed at the little fair face, and then back at the boy. "strange, strange," she murmured, half audibly. "it's a queer warld, a queer warld, the twa here thegither, an' ane has a', an' the ither has naething. mebby the good lord will be settin' it right. och, aye, he'll set it richt some way." the children gazed uncomprehendingly at her, but just then kirsty came forward with a plate of bannocks soaked in maple syrup, and for a time they gave it their absorbed attention. then kirsty soon had to leave them for her work, and after giving the children the freedom of the clearing, provided they did not go near the well, she rearranged her mother's pillows very gently and returned to the field. the two sat silent by the bedside. now that their feast was over, the little girl looked with longing eyes through the doorway; but scotty felt constrained to wait a few minutes, for granny had said that kirsty's mother was sick and lonely and needed comforting. the old woman looked up with sudden brightness in her eyes. "can ye read?" she asked eagerly. oh, yes, scotty could read, had been able to do so for a very long time. "i can read too, can't i, granma macdonald?" cried the little girl. "i read to you sometimes, don't i?" "yes, yes, lassie, ye're jist a wee bit o' sunshine. eh, what would yer puir auld granny do if ye didna come to see her in the simmer? but ah want the laddie to read me the wee bit that kirsty reads me; ye ken it, bairnie?" she pointed to the old worn bible lying on the window sill, with a drowsy blue-bottle fly droning about it. the little girl tripped over and brought it to scotty. "i know the place, granma, don't i?" she chattered; "it's got the blue mark in it. there!" her rosy finger pointed to a well-worn page, marked by a piece of woven scented grass. "aye!" said the old woman, with a satisfied look, "that's the bright bit, lassie; kirsty leaves a mark for ah canna read. eh, ah wish ah could jist read yon bit. ah wouldna mind ony ither, but jist yon. ah'd like to see hoo it looks." her wrinkled face quivered pitifully, but she made a brave attempt to smile. "read it, laddie," she whispered. scotty took the book and read where his little friend indicated. he read the bible every day, and this extract was quite familiar; one wonderful story among the many of the master's love and tenderness towards all the suffering; luke's beautiful tale of the poor woman who was bent nearly double and was made whole by the potency of a divine word. the boy droned laboriously on, and as he came to the words, "and jesus called her to him," the old woman put out her feeble hand and caught his arm, her bright brown eyes shining, her withered face flushed. "aye!" she whispered eagerly, "d'ye hear yon? d'ye hear yon? _he called her_! aye!" she continued with an air of triumph, "that's it! sometimes ah canna quite believe it, but ilka buddy reads it jist the same; that's it! _he called her himself_. aye, an' a' the ither buddies fleein' aefter him, an' botherin' him, but no her, no her! eh, wasna yon graund! go on, laddie, go on!" she made a feeble attempt to wipe away the tear that coursed down her wrinkled cheek. "eh, isna it bonny!" she cried as the boy finished. "isna it bonny! ah suppose ah'm too auld to learn to read, but ah'd jist like to read yon bit," she said wistfully. little isabel went softly to her, and tenderly wiped away the tears from the poor old face. "there now, granma macdonald," she said in the tender tones she had heard kirsty use, "you mustn't cry. maybe jesus'll come and make you straight too, won't he?" "eh, lassie," she whispered, "ah'm jist waitin' for it. ah'm houpin' he will. ah'm jist a burden to puir kirsty, an' whiles the pain's that bad. eh, but ah wish he would. surely he'd think as much o' me as o' yon auld buddy. don't ye think he micht, lassie?" "course!" cried the little one with the hopefulness of childhood, "course he will, won't he, scotty?" scotty hung his head shyly. "if granny was here, she would be tellin' you, whatever," he whispered. "aye, that's true, mannie," said the old woman brightening, "marget mcneil kens aboot him, aye, she kens fine. eh, but mebby he will," she whispered. she lay back and gazed through the little window, away over the forest-clad hills and dales to where lake oro's shining expanse sparkled through the jagged outline of the treetops. her lips moved, "_he called her to him_," she whispered, "an' he said unto her, 'woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity.'" she lay very still, a happy light shining in her eyes; the children waited a moment, and then slipped softly out of doors. when he found himself alone once more with his new acquaintance, scotty suddenly became shy again. but his diffidence was put to flight in a summary manner. the young lady gave him a smart slap in the face and darted away. "last tag!" she screamed back over her shoulder. scotty stood for an instant petrified with indignation, and then he was after her like the wind. as they tore through the little barnyard kirsty called to them not to go near the well, but neither of them heard. into the woods they dashed, over mossy logs and stones, tearing through the undergrowth and crashing among fallen boughs. in spite of her fleetness scotty caught his tormentor as she dodged round a tree; he held her in a sturdy grip and shook her for her impudence until her sunbonnet fell off. he was somewhat disconcerted to find her accept this treatment with the utmost good humour. betty would have wailed dismally, but this girl wrenched herself free and laughed derisively. "you can't hurt like hal," she said rather disdainfully, "he pulls my hair." "well, i'll be doing that too if you slap me again," said scotty, grateful for the suggestion. "no, you won't," she declared triumphantly, "'cause then i wouldn't play with you. i'd just go right back to granma macdonald and leave you all alone in the bush. an' i wouldn't show you all the places here. there's a king's castle an' a hole where the goblins comes out of, an' a tree where a bad, bad dwarf lives, an'--an'," she was whispering now, "an' heaps of dreadfuller things than that 'way down there." she pointed into the green depths with an air of proprietorship. scotty felt a deep respect rising in his heart. he had thought he knew the forest as the chipmunks know it, but here it was in a new and romantic aspect. "where are they?" he inquired quite humbly; and, satisfied with his demeanour, his mentor led the way. though the royal castle proved to be only a rock and the other enchanted places equally familiar to scotty, she clothed them with such an air of mystery and related such amazing tales concerning each, vouched for by no less an authority than weaver jimmie, that her listener regarded them and their exponent with something like awe. they journeyed on, every new turn revealing untold wonders and giving an added stimulus to the leader's lively imagination. and indeed the forest was a place in which anyone might expect to meet a fairy or a goblin behind every tree. the happy sense of unreality lent by the uncertainty of distances, the airy unsubstantial appearance of the leaf-grown earth; the dazzling splashes of golden light on the green, the sudden appearance of open glades choked with blossoms; and through all the ringing harmony of a hundred songsters combined to make the woods a veritable fairyland. and scotty soon found to his joy that he was to have his part in interpreting its beauties too, for isabel came to the end of her tales at last and was full of questions. what was that sad little "tee-ee-ee," somebody was always saying away far off. it must be a fairy too. but scotty had come down to realities now, and felt more at home. that? why, that was only a whitethroat. didn't she hear how it said, "hard-times-in-canady!" she laughed aloud and imitated the song, setting all the woods a-ring with her clear notes. and what made those bells ring up in the tree? those weren't bells, they were just veerys, and they said, "ting-a-ling-a-lee!" but the bobolinks had bells; they would go back to the clearing and hear them ring in the hayfield, and there was a meadow-lark's nest there, and lots of plovers; yes, and if she would come down to the creek that ran across the scotch line he would show her a mud turtle, and they could catch some fish, and there was a boiling spring there, where the water was so cold you couldn't put your feet into it, and it bubbled all the time, even in the winter. and then they found flowers, oh, so many flowers, big, pink, bobbing ladles' slippers, and delicate orchids and great flaming swamp lilies; and there were wonderful pitcher-plants, too, with their tall crimson blossoms. scotty explained the workings of the perfidious little vessels, and they sat down and watched with absorbed interest the poor foolish insects slip happily down the silken stairway to certain death. and under isabel's magic touch the little green pitchers became dungeons, presided over by a wicked giant, and filled with helpless prisoners. and so they might have rambled in this enchanted land all day had not the woman nature asserted itself. isabel had had enough of fairies and goblins. they must give up this wandering life and settle down, she declared. they would build a house in the fence corner and carpet it with moss and have clam shells from the creek for dishes. scotty had fallen quite meekly into the unaccustomed rã´le of follower and was willing that they should go housekeeping, provided he was allowed to play the man's part. he would be big wind, the indian who lived down by lake simcoe, and he would go off shooting bears and lowlanders all day, and she would stay at home and be his squaw and make baskets. but miss isabel would be nothing of the kind. she did not like "scraws"; they were very dirty, and came to the back door and sold their baskets. but scotty might be a great hunter if he wanted, and she would be the lady who lived in the house, and she would cook the dinner and go to the door and call "hoo-hoo" when it was ready, the way kirsty did when long lauchie's boys worked in her fields. "i see kirsty now!" she called, seating herself upon a log which formed one side of their mansion. "i see her 'way over yonder!" scotty seated himself beside her, flushed and heated with the unwonted exertions of house-building. "oh, don't you love kirsty," she cried, giving him an ecstatic shake. "i do; an' i love you, too, scotty, you're a dear!" scotty looked slightly uncomfortable, but not wholly displeased. "don't you love to run away off in the bush like this, and have nobody to bother you?" she inquired next. "yes." scotty could cordially assent to that. "when i get a man," he said, in a sudden burst of confidence, "i'm goin' to live in a wigwam like big wind an' shoot bears!" "oh, my!" she cried in delight. "i wish i could live with you, only i don't want to be an ugly scraw, i want to be like kirsty when i grow big, an' live up here in the oa, an' pile hay; but i'll have to be like auntie eleanor an' wear a black silk dress, oh, dear!" "wouldn't you be liking a silk dress?" asked scotty in surprise. "no!" she cried disdainfully. "you've always got to take care of it. i want a red petticoat like kirsty wears, and i want to go in my bare feet all the time, and live in the bush." "don't you go in your bare feet at home?" inquired scotty in amazement. "no," she admitted mournfully. "auntie eleanor says 'tisn't nice for little girls, an' i have to play the piano every morning, an' not make any noise round the house, 'cause you know my poor auntie has headaches all the time. do you know what's the matter with my auntie?" "no." "well, don't you tell, it's a big secret; she's got the _heartbreak_!" "the what?" cried scotty in alarm. "the heartbreak. brian told me. brian's our coachman, an' i heard him tell mary morrison, the cook, and he told me not to never, _never_ tell; but i'll just tell you, and you won't tell, will you, scotty?" "no, never. will it be like the rheumatics granny has?" "no-o, i 'spect not; it's when you have headaches an' don't smile nor eat much; not even pie!" she gazed triumphantly into scotty's interested countenance. "that's what my auntie's got." "would she be catching it at school?" he inquired feelingly, moved by recollections of an epidemic of measles that had raged in number nine the winter preceding. "no, she just got it all by herself. she was going to be married in the church, 'way over in england, and she had a beautiful satin dress and a veil and everything, and he didn't come!" "who?" demanded scotty. "why, the gempleman; he was a soldier-man with a grea' big sword, an' he got bad an' went away, an' my auntie got the heartbreak. an' that's why she's sick an' doesn't want me to make a noise or jump." scotty looked at her in deep sympathy. "won't she be letting you jump?" he asked in awe. "not much," she said with a fine martyr-like air. "she says 'tisn't lady-like, an' she's going to send me to a school in toronto when i get big, where it's all girls, and not one of them ever, ever jumps once!" they stared at each other in mutual amazement at the conception of a whole jumpless school. "i wouldn't be going!" cried scotty firmly. "_i'd_ jump--i'd jump out of the window an' run away, whatever!" her eyes sparkled. "oh, p'raps i could do that too! i'd run away an' come to kirsty. she doesn't mind if i jump an' make a noise, an' kirsty never makes me sew. oh, scotty, you don't ever have to sew, do you?" "noh!" cried scotty in disdain, "that's girls' work." she sighed deeply. "i wish i was a boy! harold never has to sew, but harold goes to school 'way in toronto all the time an' maybe they don't let him jump there. _i'd_ jump!" she cried, springing from the log and laughing joyously, "oh, wouldn't i! last tag, scotty!" and she was once more off into the woods and scotty after her. such a happy day as it was, but it was over at last, and after they had eaten their supper, where kirsty served it to them in their playhouse, scotty went to the house to bid the old woman good-bye, and started for home. the little girl followed him sadly and slowly to the edge of the clearing. "when'll you come back again?" she asked pleadingly. "i'll not know," said scotty patronisingly, "i don't often play with girls." the blue sunbonnet drooped; its owner's assurance and independence had all vanished. "you might come next saturday," she suggested humbly. "well," said scotty handsomely, "mebby i'll be coming." "i'm going to ask kirsty if i can't go to school with you some day!" she cried audaciously. scotty looked alarmed. in reality he was most eager to return and resume housekeeping in the fence-corner, but to have this stranger go to school with him would never do. the boys would laugh at him, and already he had sufficient trials with betty lauchie since peter stopped going to school. "oh, it's too far!" he cried hastily, "an' there will be an awful cross master there!" "i don't care, you wouldn't let him touch me, would you?" "if you don't ask kirsty, i'll come over all next saturday, an' mebby she'll be letting you come to my place; it's nicer than school." so thus comforted, isabel climbed the stump and swung her sunbonnet as long as the slanting sunlight showed the little figure running down the fast darkening forest-pathway; and just before the shadows swallowed him up, he turned and waved his cap in farewell. vii the avenging of glencoe now the dewy sounds begin to dwindle, dimmer grow the burnished rills, breezes creep and halt, soon the guardian night shall kindle in the violet vault, all the twinkling tapers touched with steady gold burning through the lawny vapours where they float and fold. --duncan campbell scott. the sound of a tinkling bell, crossing the pasture in tuneful harmony with the music of the summer evening, had come to a pause in the barnyard, and the boys had gone out with their pails to the milking. scotty came capering up the path from the barn, making mischievous snatches at granny's rosebushes, which surrounded the house all abloom in their june dresses. he seldom returned from his evening task of bringing home the cows in such good time. generally he lingered in the woods until he had almost worn out even granny's patience, and caused callum to threaten all kinds of dire punishments, which were never inflicted. but to-night he had been very expeditious, and with good reason; for hadn't granny warned him that isabel might arrive at any moment? she had come to kirsty's a few days before, and weaver jimmie had promised that, if the lady who ruled his heart was in a sufficiently propitious mood to admit of his leaving her door intact, he would, without fail, bring the little visitor over that evening. she and scotty had become quite intimate since the first summer of their acquaintance. miss isabel was possessed of a vitality and high spirits that sometimes became unbearable to her invalid aunt; so every summer, to her own delight and miss herbert's relief, she was packed off to the home of her old nurse. for kirsty john's mother had been a servant in the herbert family in her youth; and when the little isabel had been left an orphan in the captain's family, kirsty herself had been nurse-maid to both her and captain herbert's little son. sometimes, too, during the winter, when her cousin was away at school, the child came for a lengthy visit to her highland home, for miss herbert had often to go to the city for medical attendance, and her brother always accompanied her, glad of an opportunity to be with his son. indeed, the family at lake oro had what kirsty called a bad habit of "stravogin'." she declared they were always "jist here-away there-away," and never settled down like decent folk in one place. but then there was no accounting for the ways of the gentry, and these people were half english and half irish, anyway, and what could a body expect? she was thankful herself that the wee bit lassock had some good scotch blood in her, anyway. kirsty often shook her head over her little charge, declaring that if the father or mother had lived, or even the captain's wife, who was a smart, tidy body, even if she was a lady, the wee one would have had better care. not but that the captain's folk were fond of the lamb; kirsty declared it was clean impossible not to love her; but what with a poor girnin', sick body for an aunt, and an uncle who was such a gentleman he didn't know whether the roof was falling in on him or not, was it any wonder the bit thing was wild? whatever neglect miss isabel may have suffered troubled her not a whit. for neglect spelled liberty and always contributed to the general joyousness of her existence. her poor aunt's illnesses, even, were associated in her childish mind with the keenest delight, for they brought her what she enjoyed most in the world, many days spent in the oa. nominally her home was with her old nurse, but she really spent the greater part of her time at scotty's home. and here weaver jimmie became indirectly a partaker in the joy of the little one's presence; for kirsty entrusted her girl to him in her journeys between the clearings; an honour of which jimmie boasted from one end of the oa to the other, and fulfilled his commission with a vigilance that kept his lively young charge in a state of indignant rebellion. in the meantime scotty had grown to like this new comrade and to respect her. of course she was only a girl, but she was immeasurably superior to betty, for she rarely cried, was always merry, had a marvellous inventive genius and never failed of some new and wonderful scheme for enjoying life and escaping work. his big, generous heart experienced no jealousy, but only a great pride in her, when she usurped his place and became the centre of interest and admiration in his home. one visit had been sufficient to establish her as the ruler of big malcolm's household. everyone came at her beck and call; rory fiddled, callum danced, old farquhar sang, and hamish spun impossible yarns at her command. and granny, who was the most abject subject of all, would fondle her golden curls, calling her margaret, the name of her own little girl whom she had lost, and would let her help make the johnny cake for supper, apparently not a whit disturbed by the fact that everything in the room was strewn with flour. big malcolm himself seemed to forget that she belonged to the man against whom he had sworn lifelong enmity, and like the rest, opened his heart to her unreservedly. and she returned his affection with all the might of her warm happy nature. she called him "grandaddy," as scotty did, and would climb upon his knee and coax and tease him into doing things that even his grandson would not have dared to ask. the little visitor always came at a time that scotty found very convenient, just when the closing of school had deprived him of danny murphy's companionship; and to-night he looked forward to her coming with more than usual pleasure, for he needed her help and advice. of late the boy's tender heart had been worried by signs of discord at home. something he could not fathom was wrong with callum. that old trouble that had arisen between him and grandaddy the first winter of the prayer meetings had been suddenly aggravated. scotty had heard rumours at school, and was vaguely conscious of the cause of the dissension. isabel was so quick, perhaps she could help him to find out just what was wrong and suggest a remedy. "yon's a queer-lookin' thing comin' over the bars, scotty," said his grandfather, smilingly, from his place at the doorway. scotty turned eagerly; yes, there was a little blue figure scrambling hastily over the fence into the pasture-field, followed by weaver jimmie, as anxious and flustered as a hen with a wayward duckling. a joyous scream announced that she had really come. "it's her!" shouted the boy. "it's wee isabel!" he darted down the hill to meet her, but callum was there first. callum was on his way up from the barn, and the little blue figure flew to him and made the rest of the journey to the house perched triumphantly upon his broad shoulder, screaming with delight, and calling upon scotty, her own dear scotty, to come and meet her. but for all his joy, as she approached scotty drew back shyly behind the rosebushes. the first meeting with isabel was something of an embarrassment, for she always pitched herself upon him and insisted upon kissing him, more than once sometimes, if he wasn't watchful, and it was certainly an unseemly thing for a boy of his size to be kissed by anybody. but the ordeal was soon over, and when they had all rejoiced over her and measured her height against the door-frame, where two niches showed how she and scotty had stood last summer, and admired her growth, and warned scotty to take care or she would soon be as tall as he was, the elder folk gave their attention to weaver jimmie and left the children to their own devices. as usual the weaver was the bearer of important tidings. "it's a fine job tom caldwell thinks he's got this time!" he declared with an embarrassed hitch of one big foot over the other, and a rather nervous glance towards callum. "what's that?" inquired rory, coming up to the door with his two pails of foaming milk. "we always like to know what our relations will be doing," he added with a sly chuckle. weaver jimmie looked more embarrassed than ever. he attacked his whiskers and became so absorbed in their subduing that his audience grew impatient. "out with it, man!" cried callum, and thus adjured, the weaver told his story. when he had finished, it appeared that a much graver danger than a fenian raid threatened the glen, for what should tom caldwell and all those irish louts from the flats be up to now but an orangemen's raid! big malcolm removed his pipe and glared at the speaker. "what is it ye will be saying, man?" he demanded harshly. weaver jimmie looked encouraged, and avoiding callum's eye, he gave further details. tom caldwell had lately been the means of organising an orange lodge in the flats, and at their last meeting the brethren had decreed that, upon the coming 12th of july, they must have a celebration. it was to be no ordinary affair either, pete nash himself told him; but such a magnificent spectacle as the pioneers had never yet witnessed. pete had received orders to prepare dinner for fifty guests and whiskey for twice as many. there was to be a grand rally early in the morning at the home of tom caldwell, who was to personate the great protestant monarch, and at high noon a triumphal march up over the hills and down into the glen to the feast,--with fifes and drums and a greater display in crossing the oro than king william himself had had in crossing the historic boyne. big malcolm sat silent, his fists clenched. he was a glencoe macdonald, and, like all his clan, had an abhorrence of the name of orange running fiercely in his veins. but he was saying to himself over and over that he who had repented of all his strife, who had set his face firmly against the evils of the day and become a leader of the new movement that was bringing the community into a higher and better life, he certainly must not be the one to stir up dissension. and yet, to have a celebration in their own glen in honour of the macdonalds' betrayer! "it will be a low, scandalous, irish trick!" he vehemently burst forth. weaver jimmie's eyes brightened. "they would be needing to learn a lesson, whatever," he suggested tentatively. "malcolm," mrs. macdonald's voice came in gently, "we will surely not be forgetting that tom caldwell would be joining us at the meetings these last winters, and indeed we would jist all be praying together that the father would be putting away all strife from our hearts." callum cast his mother a look of gratitude; for, though generally the first to scent the battle from afar and hasten its approach, for very good reasons of his own he was on this occasion strongly inclined for peace. big malcolm looked at the gentle face of his wife and the fire died out of his eyes. "hoh!" he exclaimed disdainfully, "i will not be caring; let them have their childish foolishness if it will be doing them any good, whatever!" weaver jimmie looked disappointed, but, seeing no encouragement in the faces about him, he reluctantly dropped the subject. the conversation soon turned from war to a topic even nearer jimmie's heart, for rory had brought out his fiddle and now struck up gaily the song of the cruel jinny and the hapless weaver. before the departure of the guests scotty found an opportunity to confide his troubles to isabel. he could not tell her exactly what was wrong, for that meant confessing that callum and grandaddy were capable of mistakes. but he vaguely hinted that he was worried over their hero. callum was going to do something, something strange and new, but just what he could not discover. isabel was equally perturbed. why not ask granny? she suggested. she would tell them. but no, scotty explained, that was just what they must not do, for it was something that made granny sad. but peter lauchie knew; peter had told him that the shanty at the north clearing was to be fixed up for callum to live there, after harvest; and then he laughed and would tell him no more. as usual isabel was quick to suggest a way out of the difficulty. why should they not go over to peter's place some day and _make_ him tell all about it? she wanted to see betty again, anyway, and perhaps hughie would put up a swing for them in the barn again. this was a fine plan, and the next week they proceeded to put it into execution, and with kirsty's permission set off early one morning for a day's visit at long lauchie's. isabel was almost as well known there as scotty himself, so he soon managed to leave her in betty's company and go off to the fields to seek peter. by judicious and persistent questioning he learned the confirmation of his fears. yes, peter and all the boys knew what the trouble was. callum was to be married, and to an irish girl at that, and of course all the macdonalds were highly disgusted. scotty listened in dismay. callum to be married! that itself was bad enough, people were always laughed at and chaffed when they got married, and he writhed at the thought of his hero being in such an ignominious position. but to be married to an irish girl! surely the macdonalds would be disgraced forever. and yet scotty's heart forbade his taking sides against nancy. she was irish, certainly a deplorable fact, but still she was nancy; and though she had not been at school for some time, the boy had not forgotten her. he sighed deeply over the complexity of human affairs. this, then, was the cause of their unhappiness at home, of grandaddy's muttered threats and granny's distressed looks. he did not understand that there were stronger objections to nancy in granny's mind than the girl's nationality. big malcolm's wife was growing old, and the work of the farmhouse weighed heavily upon her. ever since callum had grown up she had cherished the hope that one day she would have sweet, trim mary lauchie, the finest girl in the oa, and a macdonald at that, to take the reins of government in her household. the loss of mary would have been disappointment enough, but callum's new choice was a great trial to his patient, gentle mother. the thought of nancy caldwell as a daughter-in-law, even though she was to live at the north clearing, instead of with her, filled her with fear. for nancy had a reputation that had spread beyond the flats. since the day she left school, where she had defied mcallister at his best, she had ruled supreme in her own home from sheer dauntlessness of spirit. many were the tales told in the oa of her wild outlandish doings; how she would dress up in her brother's clothes and drive madly all over the country; how she could ride an unbroken colt bareback, and shoot like a man, things which everyone in the oa knew no right-minded young woman could ever learn. and hadn't store thompson's wife been, as she declared, clean scandalised by seeing the hussy cross the oro at the spring floods, standing erect in a canoe and spreading out her skirts to the gale, "makin' a sail o' mesilf!" as she had laughingly declared when she leaped ashore. scotty could not force himself to tell isabel the disgraceful truth; he was very quiet and gloomy as they walked homeward through the golden-lighted forest. but isabel had had a grand day with betty and had forgotten all about the original purport of their visit. she danced along at his side full of busy chatter. didn't he love all long lauchie's folks? she did; for betty was a dear and mrs. lauchie was 'most as nice as scotty's granny. but she loved mary most of all, because she was so kind and so good. and did mary have the heartbreak too, like her auntie? no; scotty did not see how that was possible; for mary had never had a dress ready for a wedding; nor a fine soldier man who did not come. but isabel was sure he was mistaken. yes, that was certainly what mary had, for her face was so pale, and she had the same look in her eyes that her auntie had when her wedding day came round, only mary's eyes were kinder. but scotty was not interested in mary. callum absorbed all his thoughts, and he left isabel at kirsty's and hurried home. he found the boys all gone and his grandfather sitting alone by the door. big malcolm was not smoking, which was a bad sign, and his grandson saw by the look in his eye that he was not at peace. in his perturbation over callum's difficult case the boy had not noticed that a new undercurrent of excitement was running through life's everyday affairs. for, though big malcolm had, with wonderful self-control, put aside his indignation at the orangemen, all the macdonalds had not done so. weaver jimmie had gone up over the hills of the oa like a bearer of the fiery cross, and wherever he appeared the beacon-fire of anger had blazed forth. the orangemen celebrating! the macdonalds arose as one man, and in all the inherited fury of generations, combined with as much more produced for the occasion, banded together and swore that before the soil of this, their new home, should be polluted by a celebration in honour of the macdonalds' betrayer, it should first be soaked with the macdonalds' blood! to do tom caldwell justice, he did not at all comprehend the enormity of the offence he was about to commit. of course the orangemen anticipated some trouble among their catholic brethren, but rather looked forward to it as part of their entertainment. for though pat murphy and his friends prophesied death and destruction to the procession and all that had part or lot in it, what matter? the country had been growing far too quiet since the fighting macdonalds had taken to praying instead of pugilism, and a little row at the corner would just stir things up a bit and make it seem like old times. but while they gleefully looked for tempests in the flats, they were innocently oblivious to the fact that the formerly peaceful hills of the oa had been converted into raging volcanoes. occasionally vague rumours of an eruption in the macdonald settlement did float down to king william and his men, drilling in the long june evenings, but they drowned them in the tooting of fifes and the banging of drums and went gaily on to their doom. but while the macdonalds raged, big malcolm remained at home alone or in company with long lauchie, and fought with himself the fiercest battle in which he had ever engaged. not since the day he had seen rory go down under pat murphy's feet had he been so sorely tried. and the macdonalds would say he had failed them because his son was about to unite with one of the caldwell crew. that was the sting of it! callum had always been the first in any aggressive enterprise of the oa, and callum was now conspicuous by his absence. sometimes big malcolm was fiercely resolved to plunge headlong into the commotion and compel his son to join him. and then calmer moments ensued; he could not forget those winter prayer meetings and the wonderful leavening effect they had had upon the community; nor could he forget praying donald's prophetic warnings that all strife and enmity must certainly bring retribution. no; he had forever put all feuds behind him, he finally decided, and if the macdonalds were about to engage in strife with the orangemen they must learn that he, big malcolm, was far above and beyond any such unseemly brawlings. but upon this evening when scotty found him alone at the doorway, his grandfather was experiencing none of the settled calm that might be expected to follow such a laudable decision. for to-night the macdonalds were holding another mass-meeting at the house of roarin' sandy to decide finally what punishment should be meted out to the reckless orangemen, and his very soul was crying out to be with them. scotty could elicit no answer to his remarks, and sat upon the doorstep, a small, disconsolate heap, wondering sadly how his hero could have made such a mistake, and finding in his own forlorn heart an echo of the sweet, melancholy evening music. around him the mosquitoes wailed out their dreary little song; away down by the edge of the wet, low pastures, where the fireflies wandered, each with his weird little torch, the frogs were piping mournfully. the whitethroat was sending out his "silver arrows of song" clearly and pensively from the depths of the velvet dusk. the discordant twang of the swooping night-hawks came down from the pale clear sky where one silver star had come out above the black jagged line of forest. granny was moving about indoors; the boy could smell the sweet fragrance of the new warm milk she was straining into the pans. the air was heavy with the scent of clover, the world was very peaceful, but very sad. and then, out of the soft murmurs of the summer night, there grew a strange new sound. at first it seemed merely a movement of the air, a peculiar thrilling vibration. but gradually it grew into a note, a high, weird musical note, alluring, electrifying. scotty raised his head from the grass. "what's that, grandaddy?" he asked sharply. big malcolm did not answer; he was sitting bolt upright, alert, tense, listening as if for his life. for a moment the sound faded away, there was a wondering silence. and then, suddenly, a little pine-scented breeze came sweeping up from lake oro; and on it, high, clear, entrancing, commanding, came again that wild penetrating call--the bagpipes! playing up gloriously the macdonalds' pibroch! big malcolm leaped to his feet. it was the first time he had heard that sound since it came ringing to him over the heather moors of his native land. the pipes! the pipes on the hills of oro! there was neither prophecy nor precept, no, nor iron bands that could have held him at that moment. with a wild outpouring of gaelic, he sprang forward, overturning the bench and the water-bucket by the doorstep; and, coatless and hatless, went tearing across the fields and down the road in obedience to that imperative call. "granny, granny!" cried scotty, running indoors in alarm, "what's gone wrong with grandaddy, will he be gone daft?" granny raised her hands in amazement and stood listening. "eh, eh!" she cried, "it will be the pipes! och, och, lad, things will be going wrong with grandaddy now!" the great day, the 12th of july, dawned radiant in sunshine like any other canadian summer day. mr. nash had made tremendous preparations for his guests. he had his family up long before dawn and by dint of much fluency of language, for which he was famous, managed by eleven o'clock to have the banquet in readiness. tables were set in the dining-room and barroom, which two chambers constituted the ground floor of the hotel proper. the lean-to kitchen at the back was steaming with all the good things mrs. nash and her daughters and the assisting neighbours had prepared; and by half-past eleven the host, in a clean shirt and his sunday trousers, stood on the front step ready to receive with due ceremony the expected company. store thompson's place across the way was surrounded by a crowd of eager spectators, for such a spectacle as a procession had not been witnessed in the glen within the memory of the earliest settler. then there were rumours of trouble too; pat murphy and his friends were there ready to produce it; and besides, everyone suspected that the macdonalds had some scheme afoot. store thompson himself was excited. he had not seen big malcolm for more than a fortnight, and he was anxious about his war-like friend. surely, he told himself a dozen times, malcolm would never break forth into strife again after the stand he had been taking during the past few winters for the bettering of the community. and yet, as the kindly old gentleman confided to sandy hamilton, who had stopped the mill and come up to see what was transpiring, he could not help feeling "a wee thing apprehensive-like." a few minutes before twelve, the appointed hour for the procession to appear, the patience of the crowd was rewarded. pat murphy had just assembled his satellites in the middle of the road and was haranguing them and, incidentally, all the township of oro upon their duties, when a loud, shrill yell from the hilltops rent the air; there was a dull thud, thud of marching feet. the procession was coming! for a moment nationalities and creeds were both forgotten in a common desire to witness the spectacle. english, irish, and scotch crowded eagerly into the road; every eye was turned towards the south hill. yes, the procession was certainly coming, but what was this unearthly noise it was making? and where were the fifes and the drums? and why, in the name of all the cardinal points, was it coming down the north hill from the oa, instead of from the flats? and then there were no more questions, but just a sea of silent faces held upwards in gaping amazement, for out from the pine grove of the northern river-bank, with a shriek of pipes and a flutter of plaids, whirled fiddlin' archie macdonald in full highland costume; and behind him, armed and menacing, tramped every available male of the clan macdonald, from long lauchie's seventeen-year-old peter, up to--yes, alas, for the new era and its reforms!--big malcolm himself, all in perfect time to the wild yell of the macdonald pibroch! down they swept like a highland charge, the pipes screaming out a fierce challenge to anyone reckless enough to stand in their path, and awakening such warlike echoes in the oro hills as they had not given back since the days when they rang to the war-whoop of huron and iroquois braves. and, indeed, had an army of redskins in war paint and feathers appeared upon the hill, it is doubtful if it would have created any more excitement. for, though the oa was a highland settlement, the bagpipes had hitherto been an unknown instrument in the township of oro. hard work and hard times had precluded the indulgence in any such luxury, so the startled population of the valley witnessed for the first time that magnificent combination of sight and sound known as a highland piper. upon pete nash the effect was almost disastrous. the expectant host had been fortifying himself rather copiously against the duties and trials of the day, and his brain was in no condition to bear any such strain as the appearance of fiddlin' archie put upon it. at the first sound he rushed into the road, his eyes bulging with horror, his hands held up as if to ward off a blow. for peter had once been a good catholic and knew he was committing a deadly sin in harbouring these orange heretics; and here, surely, were the hosts of the evil one, coming with shrieks of wrath to snatch away his guilty soul in the midst of his iniquity. his distracted wife bounded after him, a half-washed frying pan in one hand, a dishcloth in the other; and seeing what was descending upon them she dropped both utensils and wailed, "och, the powers come down, pater! is it gabriel's trump, then?" no one noticed the stricken pair, for all eyes were fixed upon the advancing column. right up to the tavern door it marched, and when the pipes ceased with a final defiant yelp, big malcolm, his eyes blazing, his head erect, stepped forward and addressed the still trembling, but much relieved, proprietor. "we will be needing our dinner, peter," he said very mildly, "for we would be having a long walk, and mebby some work ahead of us, whatever, so i hope you will jist be bringin' it on queek." there was something in the intense politeness of big malcolm's tone that aroused mr. nash's worst fears; a macdonald was never so dangerous as when he was courteous. "and is it dinner for all this raft ye'll be after wantin', malcolm macdonald?" he cried in alarm. "sure, ye know i can't give ye a bite nor sup the day, man; the byes from the flats----" "whisht yer tongue, pete nash!" big malcolm's suavity vanished like a wisp of straw in a flame. "bring on yer grub, man, or"--he brought down his big fist upon the nearest table with a crash that made both the crockery and its owner leap--"we'll be eating your old carcass on the doorstep!" mr. nash gave a prompt and obsequious obedience. the fighting macdonalds individually must ever be treated with respect, but the fighting macdonalds in a body! surely not the most vivid orangeman could blame him in his extremity. perhaps the distracted landlord felt that, after all, here was a providential means of escape from the crime he had been about to commit, for very soon he had all glencoe seated about the well-spread tables, devouring the banquet prepared for william of orange. the macdonalds attacked the unholy viands with a zest that not even a long tramp and a pioneer appetite could quite explain. mrs. nash flew back and forth hospitably, explaining to her satellites, to cover up any apparent irregularity in her husband's sudden change of patronage, that indeed they were always pleased to have the macdonalds with them, and that she, for one, was very glad to see a scotchman dressed the right way. "sure oi've got a sister in the owld country, married to a scotchman, thin," she explained quite proudly to judy connors. "he's in a kiltie rig'ment, an' his name's pat o'nale, an' aw now, it was him that had the foine way o' swishin' his kilt whin he walked, indade!" meantime the feast was progressing; the great roasts of pork, the pies, the cakes, and the puddings were vanishing like the snow on a march noonday, when once more the assembly outside the tavern was electrified, this time from the proper source. for from the summit of the north hill there arose such a mighty banging and tooting as might have been heard had the new sawmill, lately built on the shore of lake simcoe, taken legs and gone on a mad excursion up over the oro hills. down the slope with waving banners and thumping drums rode king william himself in brave array, mounted on a white steed which bore a strong resemblance to tom caldwell's old grey mare, and followed by a troop of loyal subjects, all to the stirring squeak of "the protestant boys." at the sight of this magnificent army marching straight into the jaws of disaster, pat murphy uttered a yell of triumph that put the fifes and drums to shame. reckless with joy, he flew into the middle of the road, and standing there facing the oncoming multitude, his wild eyes blazing, his red beard and hair flaring out in all directions, he shook his huge fist at the unoffending skies and called upon the sun and the moon and all things created to witness the downfall of his enemies. fortunately for the usurpers, the steed of state which king william bestrode, though old and decrepit, still adhered to a youthful habit of shying, or the procession might never have reached the macdonalds. but, as the old grey mare approached the raving obstacle in her path, she swerved coquettishly and king william curvetted round his enemy with royal indifference. his subjects wisely followed his example; the procession divided and streamed noisily on both sides of the profane wedge which had cloven it, and which gallantly held its position waving its arms and howling forth derision until the last orangemen had swept past. but as the revellers tooted their victorious way down the street towards the tavern, a strange sensation of impending disaster made itself felt. the unwelcome fact began to dawn upon the orangemen that the clamour about them was neither composed of acclamation, nor yet of the expected tumult of the outraged murphys. the suspicion grew to a horrible certainty by the time their destination was reached, and the instant the procession halted, king william, forgetting his royal dignity, scrambled from his horse and led a hasty charge against the doors and windows of the tavern. their apprehension had been too correct. there, sitting at the orangemen's feast, were forty-nine armed macdonalds, while the fiftieth swept round the tables, his plaid flying, his kilt waving, his ribbons streaming, and his pipes shrieking as if they would fain split the roof! it was a crucial moment for the glen; and, looking from his vantage point on the verandah, store thompson held his breath. that the orangemen even hesitated to pitch themselves headlong upon the usurpers showed that in the past two years the forces that make for law and order had been steadily working. however it might be, they hesitated. perhaps they were assisted to a pacific decision by the sight before them. there is nothing so disastrous to a man's fighting qualities as an empty stomach. king william and his followers looked at their dinner rapidly disappearing into the capacious interiors of glencoe; they looked at the stout clubs beneath the table; they glanced over their shoulders at pat murphy and his men, waiting eagerly for the macdonalds to strike; they gazed at the terrible spectacle of fiddlin' archie, whirling round the room in an eddy of defiant yells; and the sights counselled discretion, rather than valour. slowly and sullenly they began to fall back from the doors and windows. even king william was about to join the retreat when, in glaring fiercely round the tables, his eye chanced to fall upon the man whose family was so soon to be connected with his own. at the sight, the royal rage, already at boiling point, burst all bounds. sticking his crowned head far in through the window, and forgetting that he had made a league with the macdonalds to bring about a season of peace and good-will in the community, mr. caldwell burst into wild and profane vituperation. commencing with big malcolm at the head of the table, and, taking each in turn, he roundly and lengthily denounced the macdonalds and all their generation; and ended his mad tirade by vowing by all things in heaven and on earth that before a daughter of his should unite with any such scum of savagery as was produced in the oa, her father would strike her dead! such snatches of the royal ultimatum as managed to penetrate the scream of the pipes the macdonalds heard in silence. occasionally a pair of fierce eyes would dart a look of inquiry towards the leader, and once or twice weaver jimmie half rose from the table; but, with wonderful endurance, big malcolm held his men and himself down. he had broken his great resolution, but even in his abandonment he could not quite get away from the strong influence at home. no, he would not fight, not unless tom caldwell pressed him too hard, and this refusal to accept callum into his family was nothing short of a blessing. at last, through sheer dearth of remaining epithets, the royal address came to a termination. with much brandishing of fists and shouting of threats, the chagrined and hungry would-be revellers melted away before the sound of the macdonalds' jig and the murphys' jeers. and when the last atom of the banquet had been demolished and the landlord paid to the utmost farthing the macdonalds arose, and, headed by their piper, went roaring up to their native hills, fired with the triumphant assurance that they had that day performed a great and glorious deed, and that at last glencoe had been avenged. viii the end of the feud there was a time i learned to hate, as weaker mortals learn to love; the passion held me fixed as fate, burned in my veins early and late, but now a wind falls from above- the wind of death, that silently enshroudeth friend and enemy. --ethelwyn wetherald. to scotty the days following upon the orangemen's defeat were filled with misery. even when he spent the time at kirsty's, fishing in the streams or racing in the woods with isabel, he could never quite forget that there was trouble in the lately happy home beneath the silver maple. for granny's face was full of pain and anxiety, though she was so brave and patient; and grandaddy walked the floor at nights or tramped up and down beneath the stars, and callum was silent and gloomy. scotty did not understand just how much reason callum had for gloom. that young man had to contend with foes both at home and abroad. tom caldwell had lost no time, upon his return home the never-to-be-forgotten night of the orangemen's downfall, in making very clear to his daughter his views upon the burning macdonald question. nancy had responded, with her usual spirit, by declaring that, when the day arrived, she would marry callum fiach if the heavens fell. the father understood his daughter's spirit and took no risk; the caldwell homestead was guarded by armed men in quite a mediaeval fashion; nancy was kept in strict seclusion and a cordial invitation was sent to callum to come on the wedding day with all the macdonalds he could muster and take his bride. callum would have gladly accepted the challenge had there been any hope of assistance. but when big malcolm returned from the glorious defeat of the orangemen, his spirit still aflame, the sight of his son, who had taken no part in their triumph, stirred him to fierce resentment. "callum!" he cried sternly, "i will be hearing no more about you and any o' yon low eerish crew. it is not for my son to be disgracing the macdonalds after this day's work!" callum's face went suddenly white and he rose from the table. "if you mean nancy caldwell," he cried, "let me be telling you that i'll marry her if she was the daughter o' the deil, himself!" big malcolm rose to his feet also, and the two men faced each other fiercely. "the day ye marry any kin to that son o' belial, callum macdonald," he roared, shaking his fist in his son's face, "you will be no more a son of mine!" callum laughed harshly, and flung out of doors. scotty's big heart swelled to bursting. grandaddy and callum quarrelling! it was too awful to be believed. he dared not look at granny's face, for he dreaded what he would see there, but he crept up close to where she sat by the bare table, her face in her hands, her breath coming in long sobs. granny's heart was breaking, he was sure, and his own heart was breaking, too, for her, and for callum, and for everyone. the days that followed did not lighten the misery. big malcolm's repentance came over him like a flood of many waters. he left the farm to the care of the boys, and sat in the house, or wandered in the fields, plunged in the deepest humiliation and despair. one look at his wife's sad face would drive him to the barn or the woods, where he would sit, job-like, and curse the day he was born. like job, too, he had three comforters who, though well-meaning and kind, served only to deepen his spiritual gloom. neither store thompson's solemn admonitions nor praying donald's hints of stern retribution were calculated to relieve his mind; and when long lauchie came across the fields on a sabbath afternoon to mourn over him and see dire fulfilment of prophecy in his woeful case, he was driven to the verge of desperation. there was no pleasure at home, and whenever scotty had an opportunity he went visiting in the direction of kirsty's. isabel's companionship afforded him much solace, and through her wonderful ingenuity came at last a way out of his despair. at first he had been reluctant to confide his troubles even to her; he knew that granny would speak of them to no one except the one great comforter, no, not even to kirsty's mother; so he nursed his mournful secret through one long miserable day. but isabel's eyes were very bright and soon spied the trouble in scotty's face. so one day, as they sat on the edge of the old log bridge and swung their feet in the cool, brown water, he opened his heart fully. to the boy's relief she seemed to think none the less of callum for wanting to marry an irish girl. some irish people weren't bad, she declared. for her uncle walter and aunt eleanor were half irish. maybe she was some irish herself, she generously conceded, but, at scotty's look of incredulous dismay, she hastily concluded that she must be entirely and exclusively scotch. but there was danny murphy, that nice boy who brought her the maple sugar and the butternuts, he was irish; yes, and old brian, their coachman, was irish and said "begorra," and brian was a dear. and very likely nancy must be one of the nice irish, or callum would not want to marry her. and if they did not let him marry her, then that would be an awful thing, for if callum failed to appear on the wedding day nancy would certainly take the heartbreak, like aunt eleanor, and be sick forever and ever, and have to lie for days in a dark room and have headaches and nasty medicine. scotty's heart was wrung at the awful prospect. was isabel sure? why, of course, she knew all about heartbreak and disappointments and such things. scotty declared desperately that something must be done. and without an instant's meditation isabel burst forth with the brilliant suggestion--why could they not take their pirate ship, sail down the oro to the flats and carry nancy off bodily? scotty was dazzled. this was a thrilling project, entailing, as it did, an adventure in their wonderful vessel. for some time before the close of school he and danny murphy had been copartners in a tremendous secret enterprise. down in the green tunnel made by the "birch crick," where it foamed along through a tangle of timber and underbrush, until it found its way into the oro, they had discovered, early that spring, a derelict punt. this craft had come like an answer to prayer; they had patched it up, launched it, and, before the holidays, had spent aboard its rotten timbers days of perfectly abandoned joy. several times, indeed, they had made adventurous voyages out upon the oro itself, and had had hairbreadth escapes, for the vessel leaked and accidents were frequent. but every boy of number nine school was an amphibious animal, and such small things as shipwrecks mattered little. with the close of school these happy excursions had to be given up. only once had the boys been on a voyage since, and then isabel had accompanied them, and they had not gone far. but here was a chance to go on a wonderful tour. they would sail down to the flats and steal nancy; perhaps they would even take a voyage down to lake simcoe and away out upon the atlantic ocean and have fights with pirates and fenians. scotty's ambition was fired to be away at once, but there was one trouble--isabel herself. she was all right at home, but her habit of hanging on to his coat with both hands when danger threatened would be embarrassing in public, and he did not even dare to think what danny would say if he saw him in such a disgraceful plight. and then he conceived the rest of the brilliant plan himself. they would not steal nancy away this time, but they would go to the birch crick, and if danny was there they would send a message by him to nancy, asking her if she would not like to be kidnapped, and he mentally resolved that isabel could be put off while he and danny performed the glorious deed. isabel, quite innocent of his traitorous plot, agreed to this modification of her plan; and the next morning, having obtained kirsty's reluctant permission to go on an indefinite fishing expedition, they set off down the scotch line, bursting with excitement. the birch creek crossed the road, flowing cool and brown beneath the old log bridge; a fine place for paddling with bare feet, but the two adventurers had no time for any such trivial pastime. they plunged into the undergrowth and followed the stream through a riotous confusion of long grasses and shrubs, where the yellow touch-me-not, the pink willow weed, the tall white turtle-head, and the blazing golden-rod grew in a tangle of wild beauty. they scrambled along with joyous shouts, sometimes on land, more often in the water. frequently they had to stoop and crawl beneath the green canopy of birch and elm and willow that covered the stream and through which the golden sunbeams scarcely struggled to the cool, brown surface. out in the open spaces the dragon fly darted here and there like a little blue spear. the shy trout fled dismayed before the two noisy intruders; the waxen blossoms of the arrowhead, the broad shining leaves and golden-hearted blossoms of the water lily and the stately blue spikes of the pickerel weed bent before their ruthless tramping. a kingfisher, startled from his day's work by the uproarious pair, shot down the stream, his derisive laugh echoing far through the leafy avenue. the two almost forgot the great import of their journey in its delight. scotty splashed ahead, capering from fallen log to sunken stump; and after him came his faithful follower, bespattered with mud, dripping wet, even to the crown of her golden curls, and filling the air with her joyous shrieks of laughter over scotty's wild antics. and to crown their happy excursion, as they came round a sudden bend in the stream, there came a splashing sound ahead; a welcoming shout greeted them, and here was danny sailing down upon them, his red head shining like a beacon in the stern of the pirate ship! they wasted very little time in making known the grave reason for their visit, and to their surprise they found that danny knew much more about the caldwell-macdonald trouble than they did. sure, wasn't his brother mike telling them only last night that nancy wasn't allowed to go outside the gate, though she fought like a tiger about it; and tom caldwell had said he'd kill callum fiach if he came near the place; and nancy had said she'd murder anybody that laid a finger on him. nancy was good stuff, and if there was any scheme for outwitting the caldwells, danny was their man. but this was grave news, and somewhat dampening to the ardour of the adventurous spirits. so they pulled the old punt up under the birches and sat in it with their three heads, black, gold and red, very close together, and concocted a new plan. the line of procedure finally settled upon was not quite so romantic as scotty had intended, but it answered. danny had access to the caldwell home; no one would suspect him; he must see nancy, and offer their services as well as those of their vessel, and meanwhile scotty was to interview callum, and if he had any message to send to nancy, then danny would carry it. they all went home bursting with their prodigious secret; and scotty, whose forest breeding had made reticence easy, never ceased all the way home to warn isabel of the fearful consequences of disclosure. he could scarcely wait for an opportunity to speak to callum alone, but at last supper was over and the chores all done; and he crept out to the barn where he had seen the young man disappear. he found him in the loft, lying gloomily upon the hay; and, hesitating and fearful lest callum would ridicule or blame him for his interference, he made his confession. callum suddenly sat up and gazed into the bright eager face with its big sparkling eyes. he sprang to his feet. "horo!" he shouted, and catching the boy up flung him over his head into the hay; and when scotty came laughing and breathless to his feet he was filled with amazement and concern to see that there were tears in callum's eyes. and so a letter was carried, but not without difficulties encountered. kirsty proved the first obstacle. she declared she was just going to put a stop to such stravogin', and would not let the lass go near that dirty crick again, for she always came home wringing wet. isabel swept away this barrier in a flood of tears, and all other difficulties were met and dealt with in an equally summary manner. danny's dangerous part of the task was executed with wonderful skill and an answer was piloted safely back. they were all three somewhat disappointed when callum announced that the proceedings must stop there. danny was inclined to rebel, and isabel failed to explain such conduct. but scotty found ample compensation for their restriction in the happy change in callum. his old gaiety came back, his eyes sparkled, and he would snatch up isabel and go leaping about the house with her perched shrieking upon his shoulder, just as he used to do in the happy days before the orangemen came to blight their home. matters were improving in other places too. big malcolm's second stage of repentance, a period of prayer and fasting, had passed; he had come once more into his old contented state, sure of the forgiveness of his heavenly father for the wrong done, and determined by his grace never again to fall. news reached the oa, too, that nancy caldwell had suddenly given up her rebellious outbursts and had settled down meekly to her fate, and tom caldwell boasted all over the flats that she wouldn't take callum fiach if all the macdonalds in the oa came to back him up. and so scotty found life happy again, and he and isabel once more settled down contentedly to housekeeping beneath the silver maple. but the summer passed and old brian came and took his comrade away, and scotty wept secretly in the haymow all the evening after her departure. the next morning he arose with a distinct consciousness of loss sustained. isabel was not the only one who had left apparently. when they sat down to breakfast callum had not yet appeared. no one marked his absence until big malcolm came in from the barn. "where will callum be?" he inquired as he helped himself to his porridge. rory kept his eyes upon his plate, but hamish answered in a troubled tone, "i'll not know, father. mebby he would be at the north clearing, whatever. he would not be coming home last night." big malcolm continued his meal with knitted brows. suddenly he looked up and caught a startled expression in his wife's eyes. "what is it?" he asked anxiously. mrs. macdonald's fingers were working tremulously with the hem of her apron. "i would be thinking," she faltered, "it will be the day--the day that was set!" "hoots!" cried big malcolm, "that will be nothing, whatever." but a sudden ominous silence fell over the breakfast table; this was to have been callum's wedding day, and callum had not appeared. the stillness was broken by bruce, who rose up from underneath the table with the short bark that announced a well-known visitor. a shadow fell over the threshold, still pink in the glow of the rising sun. big malcolm looked up in surprise. "you will be early, jimmie!" he called heartily as the weaver stood in the doorway, "come away, man, and be having a bite!" but weaver jimmie shook his head; he stood at the door struggling with feet and whiskers, and apparently more than usually overcome by embarrassment. "i would like to be speakin' to you, malcolm," he said. there was a look in his face that brought the three men instantly to the doorway. scotty, straining his ears to catch their low remarks, could hear only, "run-away--lake simcoe." granny arose, her face white. "malcolm," she whispered, "malcolm, what is this about our son callum?" big malcolm turned. there was a look in his eyes that had not been there since the day the orangemen were defeated; but it suddenly faded at the sight of her white, pained face. "it will jist be nothing, whatever," he said gently. "they would be saying the girl was off this morning, but jimmie will not be sure. come, lads." the four men went away without another word, passing quickly through the barnyard and up the path that led into the woods. the mother arose and knelt by the bedside in the corner so long that scotty could bear his burden of guilt no longer. he crept up to her, and when she put her arms about him he sobbed out his dreadful secret; how he and isabel and danny had carried a letter to nancy, and another one back to callum; and perhaps that was what made callum run away. and oh, oh, he didn't know it was wicked or he wouldn't have done it; only she must not blame isabel; it wasn't her fault. but granny blamed no one. she listened gravely to his story, and to scotty's supreme relief seemed a little comforted by it. and she comforted him, too, patting his head lovingly and declaring that he was granny's own boy with the big heart, indeed, and together they watched and waited through the long dreary day for the men's return. but scotty was tired out and gone to bed long before they came. he was half-awakened in the night by the sound of voices; strange voices, too; not angry or clamorous, but hushed and solemn. once he distinguished grandaddy's voice, broken as though with weeping, and granny's, too, speaking as though she were comforting him, but with a sound in it that made the child's tender heart contract with pain. there seemed an awesomeness about the strange, soft movements below that sent a chill over him. none of the boys had come to bed yet; the light from below shone up through the cracks in the floor, and he crept to the hatchway and listened. and then he distinguished praying donald's low, deep voice raised in supplication; then grandaddy had been fighting again and they had come to pray for him. the boy crept miserably back to his bed and, childlike, soon fell asleep. he awoke in the rosy dawn, when the shadows of the forest still stretched up to the doorstep, and found to his surprise that hamish was sitting by his bedside. he remembered with a chill the anxiety of the day and the awesomeness of the night before, and asked suddenly, "where's callum?" but hamish did not answer directly; only said that he must be good and quiet and not ask granny any questions, and added after a second question that callum was gone away. and when would he be back? he would not be back, hamish whispered, with his eyes upon the floor. would not be back? scotty stared uncomprehending. and where was nancy? nancy was with him. had they gone to the old country? he asked in a whisper, but hamish shook his head and turned away. the boy's heart seemed held by an awful dread. he wanted to ask another question, and yet he dared not. but as the young man turned to go down the stairs something in his white face opened a flood of awful intelligence upon the boy's mind. "hamish," he cried in a sharp whisper, "is--is--callum--dead?" but hamish made no reply, only gave him a glance as though he had been smitten with a mortal wound, and went hurriedly down the stairs. but weaver jimmie told him all about it as soon as he descended. for, to his surprise, scotty found not only jimmie there, but many others of the neighbours. store thompson's wife sat by the bed in the corner, and granny lay upon it white and silent. something lay in another corner, stretched upon boards, a figure so muffled and still that, without knowing why, scotty glanced at it with a feeling of terror. grandaddy was nowhere to be seen; but praying donald was there, reading by the window. his deep voice, hushed to a solemn, low rumble, filled the room; "then they cry unto the lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses," he was saying, but scotty did not listen; he followed weaver jimmie out to the barn full of awe-stricken questionings. and jimmie, his kindly face quivering with sympathy, told him all. yes, that still, dark form he had seen in the corner was callum; they had brought him home last night, and had taken nancy to her home. but hamish had said callum was gone, scotty argued, and nancy with him; had they come back then? no, they had not come back. they had run away and tried to cross lake simcoe in a canoe. a storm had come up suddenly, and though the caldwells and the macdonalds, who had tracked them to the shore, tried to rescue them, they were too late. and callum was gone, gone never to come back, and nancy was with him; and if store thompson could get the great preacher who had lately come to barbay, they would bury them both in the glen to-morrow. scotty did not hear any more; callum to be buried, and nancy, too, to be put away in the ground as they had put kirsty's father! he crept off into a corner of the haymow as soon as jimmie had left him, and lay there, his curly head hidden deep in the hay, his small body shaken with long convulsive sobs. callum, his callum, granny's hero, as well as his own, gone never to come back! voices reached him once, and lest he should be discovered, he pressed his small hands over his quivering face and manfully strove to hold down his grief. praying donald and long lauchie were walking slowly with bent heads past the open barn door. "it will be the will of the almighty to be visiting us through this calamity," praying donald was saying, "but the father will never be leaving his children comfortless, for the man of god himself will be coming to the funeral." "mcalpine?" asked long lauchie in an eager whisper. "aye, john mcalpine himself; the lord will be very merciful to us. but, eh, eh, that the man that poor malcolm would be praying for all these years should be coming to us over his dead! eh, it will be a mystery, a mystery!" ix ralph stanwell again johnnie courteau of de mountain, johnnie courteau of de hill; dat was de boy can shoot de gun, dat was de boy can jomp an' run, an' it's not very offen you ketch heem still, johnnie courteau! --william henry drummond. scotty was setting out for what he hoped was his last winter at school. it was a performance he considered quite too juvenile, and a single glance at him would convince anyone that it was high time he had put away childish things. his great, strong frame, over six feet in his "shoepacks," his brawny arms and hands, well developed under the toil of the axe and the plough, all spoke of his having reached man's estate. but his growth had somewhat outrun his years, and he had not yet reached the age when he might with propriety remain away from school during the winter. besides, he had held a conference with dan murphy and "hash" tucker during the christmas holidays to consider the matter of further education. should they abjure the whole trivial business, was the question discussed, or should they attend school this winter just to see what the new master would be like, and, if possible, make things lively for him? the latter course, being the more uncertain, offered the more entertainment and was unanimously adopted; so here was the young man, on this dazzling january morning, swinging along the silent white forest path, ready for any kind of adventure. for scotty had arrived at a period when the unknown and the forbidden were the alluring, and the lawful and the restraining were the irksome. indeed rory was wont to grumble that that young scot was just going to ruin; he had never been made to mind anybody when he was little, and now he was just growing up clean wild. for since rory had given up fiddling and dancing and had settled down with roarin' sandy's maggie in the north clearing he had become a very staid householder and frowned upon all youthful frivolity. and though his prophecies were perhaps overpessimistic, there was undoubtedly some cause for disapproval in the matter of scotty's conduct. even big malcolm and his wife, who, as old age advanced, were more and more inclined to make an idol of their grandson, could not quite shut their eyes to his imperfections. he was the same big-hearted scotty he had been in his childhood, lavishly generous and swift to respond to the call of suffering; but his high spirits were sometimes too much for the narrow confines of his life, and he was wont to break out into wild, mischievous pranks. during the last winter of poor old mcallister's feeble misrule, scotty and his two leal followers, dan murphy and "hash" tucker, had contrived to make the hard name of number nine notorious. so long as the three confined their misdemeanours to the school the public had winked at them. disorder and ill-behaviour always seemed associated with old mcallister, everyone felt; and indeed mr. cameron, the minister, was suspected by most of the section to have had reference to the old broken-down school-teacher when he preached that solemn discourse upon the blind leaders of the blind. as the sermon was delivered on the sabbath after scotty and dan had knocked over the stovepipes and almost burned down the school-house, store thompson declared he was "convinced of the certainty of the application-like." but when the boys perpetrated acts of lawlessness beyond the precincts of school life people began to look upon them askance. scotty had distinguished himself rather unpleasantly on the last hallowe'en; for besides the usual small depredations which everyone expected on that historic night, someone had gone to the extremity of elevating gabby johnny thompson's wagon, heavily loaded with grain, to the top of the barn; and everyone in the oa knew that nobody would have conceived of such a daring thing except big malcolm's scot. of course, the neighbours could not fail to see some poetic justice in the affair, for gabby johnny, who was famed for his astute bargaining, had been voicing a wailing desire for high wheat ever since that grain had begun to grow along the banks of the oro. nevertheless, though the neighbours might secretly approve of such retributive acts of providence, the medium through which they descended was liable to be regarded with disfavour. for while scotty was growing up the social life of the oro valley had been undergoing a great transformation. john mcalpine, that great preacher whose words always awoke his hearers to a terrible realisation of the solemnity of life and the certainty of death, had come to the glen with his imperative call to higher things. and at his coming the sun of righteousness had arisen over the oro hills and the whole countryside had awakened to a new day. other influences had been at work, too; the spirit of the pioneer days was passing with the forests, the little isolated circles of cleared land had widened out and merged into each other like the rings on the surface of the oro pools, and with the broader outlook came gentler manners and more tolerant views. then this young land was slowly but surely absorbing into her own personality all the discordant elements and making of them a great nation; for within the last few years a new race had sprung up in the oro valley, a race that was neither english, irish, nor scotch, highland nor lowland, but a strange mixture of all, known as canadian. the community in the glen had grown to quite a respectable village, the post office adding a touch of dignity and necessitating the new name, the name of glenoro. and best of all, there was the church just at the bend in the river, with the manse beside it where the minister lived; and such had been its influence that a fight at the corner now would have brought a shock to the whole township. so scotty and his followers did not properly belong to these improved times; they were mediaeval. the boy had been too young when mr. mcalpine came to be deeply affected by his great sermons; but he had not outlived the stirring memory of the old fighting days when callum kept the oa lively. callum was still his hero, the dear old handsome callum, of whom he could never think even yet without a pang of regret. hamish and rory had grown beyond him with the years, but callum was always young and bright and dashing; and scotty was determined to be like him and to do the great deeds callum would certainly have done had it not been for his untimely end. the bell was ringing when the three conspirators met at the school pump. number nine had a bell now, and there was even some agitation for a new building. poor old mcallister's wasted life had gone out the autumn before like the quenching of a smouldering fire, and now that a new man was to take his place the section was beginning to pick up courage and look for a hopeful future. the young men lounged in at the end of the procession and flopped into their seats with the proper air of insupportable boredom. scotty's first task was to take the measure of his new instructor. at the first glance he was conscious of a distinct sensation of disappointment. he had expected the stranger to be young and callow, but this man had grey hair and was apparently nearing middle age. his face, which was pale and showed signs of ill-health, was clearly cut and refined. his frame was well-built and wiry, and he had a pair of steady grey eyes and a quiet, dignified manner which seemed strangely incongruous in the position old mcallister had so long made ridiculous. nevertheless scotty regarded him with strong disfavour. his white collar, his smooth hair and his english way of sharply clipping off his words stamped him as hopelessly "stuck-up"; and dan murphy reported with derisive joy that he had worn gloves to school, a weakness of which no one who called himself a man would be guilty. besides all this, he had obtained his position through captain herbert; indeed, he had been a close friend of the captain when they lived in toronto, it was rumoured, and he probably belonged to the aristocracy, who were hated of scotty's soul. on the other hand, he wasn't an englishman, for his name was archibald monteith, that was one thing in his favour; but he stood for order and good behaviour, and the young man was arrayed against all such. the new master himself was quietly taking note of his surroundings. he had been thoroughly informed of the bad character of number nine, both by captain herbert and the trustees, not to speak of the unsolicited advice and information that had been pouring in upon him ever since his arrival. upon the first night of his stay at store thompson's, a burly man with a great bushy head and beard had come suddenly upon him; and after a warm handshake and welcome had given him absolute power in the matter of dealing with his family. "you lay it onto my danny," was the generous admonition. "sure, the young spalpeen's mad wid the foolish goin's on, an' it's a latherin' he needs ivery day. you mind an' lay it onto danny!" quite as cordial but more ominous had been the advice proffered by gabby johnny thompson. in his capacity of secretary-treasurer of the school board that gentleman felt it incumbent upon him to inform the novice of the unsounded depths of iniquity he had to deal with in number nine. his darkest hints related to "yon ill piece o' big malcolm macdonald's." a scandalous young deil he was, and mr. monteith would have to keep an eye on him, for him and yon young papish of a murphy were a bad pair. it was young scot malcolm who had nearly burned the school down, over mcallister's head; yes, and would have burned up old mcallister, too, without a thought, he was that thrawn and ill. monteith was regarding with deep interest the owner of this evil reputation. he was a rare reader of character, and understood at once the nature of scotty's malady. his man's frame and boy's face, his keen, bright, inquiring eyes, and the signs of abounding life, all fully explained the cause of the trouble. the schoolmaster found something irresistibly attractive about the boy too; there were signs of intellect in every line of his face, and he dearly loved brains. as the school passed out for their morning intermission he beckoned the youth to him. dan murphy made a covert grimace expressive of his whole being's revolt against any such degrading task, and scotty went forward reluctantly. he wanted to disobey, but the man's courtesy held him. an old school register in which were written some seventy names lay open on the desk. "i am hopelessly entangled in all these macdonalds," said the new master, in a tone one man would use in addressing another. "here are four betseys and six johnnies, and donalds without number. would you be so good as to assist me?" scotty's inbred highland courtesy and the generous desire to help which was part of his nature, impelled him to answer politely. striving to ignore the violent pantomime being enacted by dan in the porch, he gave the man the key to the situation. his big finger ran awkwardly down the page as he gave the name by which each pupil was known. the stranger listened in some amusement and not a little bewilderment to the list: roarin' sandy's donald, crooked duncan's donald, peter archie red's donald. they were rather unwieldy, but he planted them down heroically, and then proceeded to disentangle the murphys and the tuckers after the same fashion. "i am very much obliged to you," he said with the same quiet seriousness when the work was finished, and scotty took his seat wondering if the new master ever smiled. most likely that grave, unbending manner was just the natural outcome of his inevitably stuck-up nature, he reflected. affairs went harmoniously enough until school was dismissed for the noon recess. as soon as the word was given dinner-pails were seized, bread-and-butter, meat, pie, and cake began to appear and disappear again with equal rapidity; a crowd of the bigger girls made preparations for brewing tea on the stove; and before the new master could get on his overcoat and gloves preparatory to leaving, dinner was well under way, and the room was filled with a strong aroma of tea and pork. scotty had gone to the door to administer a farewell snowball to the unclassified aliens who went home to the village for dinner. a prompt answer came hurtling back, and as he dodged into the porch with a derisive yell of laughter, he barely escaped knocking over the new master. he hastily stepped aside to let him pass, but the man paused. "i forgot to ask you your own name, among all the others," he said, more for the sake of engaging the youth in conversation than to gain information. "you are a macdonald, too, i believe?" scotty had long passed the time when he felt his english name a disgrace. of course he would have preferred one of another sort, but he scarcely thought of it now, and most of his schoolmates had forgotten that he possessed one. and, in the face of this grave man's courtesy, he felt it would be childish to pretend, so he answered, not without some dignity, "no, my name will not be macdonald, it will be stanwell, ralph stanwell." the new master's grey eyes grew suddenly narrow; he was well acquainted with all the small tricks to be played upon a newcomer, and had many a time seen this one of a fictitious name successfully practiced. he had been prepared to find this boy hard to manage, but he was disgusted that he should descend to such a small, childish prank. he knew scotty's name only too well, and, in any case, for a youth with a marked highland accent, dressed in the grey homespun which seemed the uniform of the clan macdonald, to stand before him and give himself such a name as this was as stupid as it was insulting. "that is a very clumsy lie," he remarked quietly. scotty dropped his snowball and stared; for a moment he did not quite comprehend. "what?" he cried artlessly. his look of innocent amazement doubled his listener's indignation. "i said," returned the man very distinctly, "that you have told me a lie, and a very stupid one, for i know your name to be scot macdonald, and a rather notorious one you have made it, too." and turning his back in disgust, the new master walked quietly down the snowy road. for an instant scotty stood glaring after him, every drop of his rebellious blood tingling. he snatched up his snowball again and took aim. if he could only smash that conceited looking hat, or better still, the insufferable white collar! but there was something in the commanding air of the figure that went so steadily onward, not deigning to look back, that held the boy's arm. instead, he sent the missile crashing into the last remaining pane in the porch window, and went leaping into the school, determined to find dan and relieve his feelings by working some irreparable damage. the schoolhouse was in a condition to invite depredations. late in the previous autumn, as soon as the news of the new master's expected advent had come, the matrons of number nine had organised a housecleaning campaign in the school. store thompson's wife, that queen of housekeepers, headed the expedition against dirt, and even the minister's wife took part. the former lady had long declared that the condition of the schoolhouse was clean ridic'l'us, and now demanded that something be done to better it, for as the new master was coming from the captain's he was sure to be a gentleman, and most like would be terrible tidy. so the army of housekeepers had charged down upon the schoolhouse, and such a washing and cleansing and renovating as took place had certainly never been paralleled except when the spring winds and waters came swirling down the oro hills. the poor little building was scarcely recognisable when it emerged from its baptism of soapy water and whitewash. the big girls added an artistic touch by decorating the spotless walls with cedar boughs, until the place smelled as sweet as the swamps of the oro; and to crown all, the minister presented it with a fine picture of queen victoria to be hung above the master's desk. and this was the immaculate condition of the place where, when his dinner was finished, scotty's roving eye sought something upon which to work off his burning indignation. it had always been the custom heretofore in number nine to employ the noon recess tearing round the room in a cloud of dust, yelling, throwing ink and breaking furniture. but to-day the awe of the new master had had a restraining influence, and most of the wilder spirits had betaken themselves to an outdoor campaign. so there were only a few of the smaller pupils and the larger girls grouped round the stove when scotty started his new enterprise. the cedar wreath above the door was quite dry and rather dusty and offered a fine field for a unique exploit. lighting a splinter at the stove, he set fire to the garland, allowed the flames to mount up, and just as they threatened to get beyond his control, beat them out with his cap. the girls shrieked in horror; betty lauchie screamed that he was a wretch, and the minister himself would be after him, and biddy murphy vowed she'd pull every hair of his worthless head out for him if he tried it again. but scotty was joyously reckless and quite beyond fear of even miss murphy. when dan returned from the slaughter of the philistines, who lived over on the tenth, he found his chum the centre of a wildly excited group, and engaged in beating out his third conflagration. dan was immediately fired to emulation. he would be disgraced forever in the eyes of the flats if he allowed scotty to get ahead of him, and already the room was filling with admiring macdonalds and envious murphys. so, in spite of the imploring shrieks and commands of the girls, he struck a match and soon had the festoons along the wall crackling merrily. when this rival blaze was extinguished hash tucker stepped into public notice. considering his blood and breeding, this son of the house of tucker should have been a phlegmatic saxon. but no one can say what canadian air will do with the blood; and under its influence hash had long ago commenced a reversion to type, the aboriginal wild indian. whatever scotty or dan did therefore, that he could outdo. seizing a burning brand from the stove, he scrambled up on the teacher's rickety old desk, and the next moment the triumphal arch, reared in honour of the new master's coming, was in a blaze. but just as he reached up to beat out the flames he was gripped violently round the knees, and down he came to the floor, scotty on the top of him. hash roared lustily for his followers; the tenth responded gallantly, scotty was engulfed in their on-rush, and, to help on the good work, dan murphy headed a rescue party from the oa to extricate his friend from the yelling heap. what the outcome of this affray might have been is doubtful, but just at its inception a terrified cry of "fire," from the remainder of the school parted the combatants. they came to their feet to find the flames leaping up the walls, and clouds of smoke rolling through the room. it was no joke this time and the boys wasted not an instant. scotty leaped from the floor to head an impromptu fire brigade, and for a few moments they worked desperately. they dragged down the burning branches and flung them out of doors; they flew to and from the pump, they flung snow and water among the flames, and after a short but desperate struggle the fire was conquered. it was all over in a few moments, and the victors stood, begrimed and breathless, and rather ruefully surveyed the havoc they had unwittingly wrought. the lately spotless walls were scorched and blackened, the decorations depended from the fastenings, charred and ugly, and the floor was swimming in inky water. "horo!" cried scotty, with a long, dismayed whistle. "it'll be bad for the gent's white collar if he comes in here," said dan solemnly. "murderin' blazes, who's that?" now, it happened that by an evil chance gabby johnny, the secretary-treasurer, had been driving past the school on his way to the woods, and seeing smoke issuing from the windows of the building over which he considered himself the especial guardian, he stopped his team and rushed upon the scene, and there he stood now, in the silent crowd of frightened girls and sobered boys, gazing at the devastation with such an expression of aghast horror, that at the sight of him all scotty's compunction vanished and he laughed aloud. gabby johnny peered through the smoke and discerned his enemy, evidently rejoicing over his evil work. "ah, ye ill piece!" he shouted, stepping up to the boy and shaking his fist in his face, "ah kenned it was you! aye, ah kenned! if there's ony scandal'us goin's on ye'll be in it! it's an evil end ye're comin' til, wi' yer goin's on; aye, that's what ye are! ye neither fear god, nor regard man! sik a like onceevilised----" now gabby johnny was prepared upon all occasions to prove his right to his sobriquet, and dan murphy well knew he would not stop until he had driven scotty to extreme measures, so here he mercifully interfered in his friend's behalf. he had no mind to defy a trustee, so, being of a diplomatic turn, determined to divert the tide of wrath by the simple expedient of producing a counter-irritant. he slipped out quietly from the line of culprits, and snatching up a well-packed snowball hurled it straight and true at the team standing in the road. the missile was a hard one, and the nervous young colts, their heads erect, their nostrils indignant, went jingling off down the road, their heels sending a fine snowstorm over the old bobsleigh, leaping in their wake. gabby johnny heard his bells and his eloquence suddenly ceased. at the same instant dan burst in upon him, his eyes starting from his head, his breath coming in gasps. "sure, your team's runnin' away!" he bawled. "they're runnin' away! i can't stop them; they're gone clane wild!" gabby johnny waited neither to hear nor deliver more. he darted out and down the road, followed by a hailstorm of snowballs and the joyful cheers of number nine. and as he went he howled breathless anathemas, alternately at his wayward horses and back at the yelling mob behind him, both couched in language little calculated to raise the moral status of the already besmirched school. but the boys' trouble was not over; they returned from the rout of the trustee only to find the new master entering the scene of destruction. he stood and looked about him with a manner just as quiet, but no graver, than usual. "how did the fire start?" he asked calmly. the dauntless three stepped forward, headed by scotty. in the old days confession to mcallister did not appear in the code of schoolboy honour; but there was something about this man, even though scotty cordially hated him, which demanded fair dealing. the new master looked them over in a manner that was hardly complimentary. his eyebrows rose. "children!" was all he said, but the word made scotty writhe. then he did not scold or rave as the boys half-wished he would. he quietly dismissed all but the three culprits, and saying he would give them that afternoon and the next day to bring the school back to the condition in which they had found it, and that done, he would prefer that they remain at home under their parents' control for a month or so, he turned on his heel and walked away with an air that said plainly that this was no affair of his and was regarded by him with calm indifference. the boys were completely taken aback. hitherto school discipline had consisted exclusively of thrashings, which though uncomfortable had some honour attached. but here was a new departure; to have to undo all one's mischief, and then be contemptuously dismissed was a serious affair. the new master acted as though he were the king of england too, and certainly, with gabby johnny at his back, he was not to be trifled with. when the three arrived the next morning, armed with whitewash and brushes, dan and hash were rather inclined to feel subdued, but not so scotty. in his home discipline was not so rigid as in that of the other two, and his grandparents had not even heard of his escapade. and his heart was still raging hot against the new master. the man had dared to tell him he lied! the remembrance of it and monteith's air of calm superiority maddened him. how he longed to knock him down and hear him take back his statement. well, he could not do that, it seemed, but he would wreak his vengeance in some other way. so with scotty in this mood the work of reparation did not go on very steadily. his two companions tried to attend to business, but soon found it impossible. they were alone in the forest with unlimited whitewash; and with scotty inciting them to deeds of daring, how could they resist? they started by enduring their leader's pranks, and ended by embracing them, and when their morning's task was completed not even mcallister's ghost, could it have appeared, would have recognised its old haunts. yet no one could say the boys had not done their work, for they had whitewashed the school with a thoroughness even store thompson's wife would never have attempted. the only fault was the lack of discrimination shown by the decorators. some critics might have considered the coating of the floor and the desks a work of supererogation. but the boys were not stingy; they whitewashed everything with an impartial and lavish generosity; the walls, the ceiling, the blackboard, the furniture. yes, even the stove and stovepipes were rubbed until they fairly radiated whiteness, and stood out spectrally in their pallid surroundings, like the ghost of some departed heater. scotty gave the new master's desk an extra coat, and even polished up a stray book and dinner pail, unluckily left behind the day before, just to have them in harmony with their environment. when at last the work was finished and the three bespattered workmen prepared to depart, dan declared in an oratorical address delivered from the top of the master's snowy desk, that they had nobly done their duty, for had they not carried out the new master's instructions and whitewashed the school? and when they turned the white key in the white door and stole off in three directions through the forest, bursting with mirth, they vowed they had not experienced such a season of pure joy since the night gabby johnny's waggon had arisen, like charles's wain, in the heavens! x in the realms of gold not to be conquered by these headlong days, but to stand free: to keep the mind at brood on life's deep meaning, nature's altitude of loveliness, and time's mysterious ways; at every thought and deed to clear the haze out of our eyes, considering only this, what man, what life, what love, what beauty is, this is to live and win the final praise. --abchibald lampman. upon his return home, scotty went out behind the house to work off some of his superfluous mirth upon the woodpile. he had flung aside his coat and was swinging his axe vigorously, when, with the quickness of the rural eye which always spies an approaching figure, he noticed a man turn in from the highway and walk briskly up the snowy lane. the boy gave a low whistle; his face grew dark with anger. it was the new master! he had found out the condition of the school then, and had come to report to his grandparents. mcallister at his worst was better than this fellow, for mcallister was no sneak. but even in his anger, he chuckled mischievously when he considered what an exhibition monteith would surely make of himself if he attempted to lodge complaints with big malcolm against his grandson. but instead of turning up the path to the door, the new master followed the track that led round the house under the silver maple. at first scotty was of a mind to dodge round the woodpile and escape; but he was too late; monteith had already caught sight of him; so he waited, sullen and defiant. the new master lost no time in making his errand known. "i came to offer an apology, ralph stanwell," he said gravely, "for what i said concerning your name. i found out my mistake only this afternoon." scotty's defiant air changed to one of amazement; his eyes fell, he felt suddenly ashamed. "i hope you will accept an explanation, though it does not at all atone for what i said," continued the schoolmaster earnestly. "i am truly ashamed of myself for making such a stupid blunder." scotty squirmed in embarrassment. he had never in his life witnessed any such dignified reparation of a wrong, and in contrast, his own late conduct looked childish and almost barbarous. "oh, it will not matter, whatever," he stammered abruptly, and in a manner much more ungracious than his feelings warranted. "but it does matter very much. it was no way for one man to speak to another." scotty experienced a glow of mingled pride and shame; the new master considered him a man then, and he had not played the man's part! "but, you see," continued monteith, "i felt so sure. it was your highland accent, and your--your general macdonald appearance that to my ignorance made your statement unbelievable." the schoolmaster had unwittingly struck the right chord. scotty smiled shyly but amicably. "oh, it will be jist nothing," he said generously. "won't you shake hands, then, and let me feel i am quite forgiven?" but scotty did not put out his hand; he stood shifting from one foot to the other, looking down at the heap of chips. "but--i--would you not be knowing?" he faltered. "knowing what?" "that we--that i would be making the schoolhouse worse than ever?" there was a sudden light in monteith's eyes that would have surely convinced scotty, had he seen it, of the new master's ability to smile. "well, perhaps that will help to even things up a little," he said brightly. "come, are you willing to call it quits?" scotty put out his big hand swiftly, and felt it caught in a strong bony grip. and as their hands met monteith's stern face suddenly broke out into an unexpected smile, a smile so brilliant and kindly that the boy felt it illuminate his whole being, and from that moment he was the new master's friend. "and now," said the man, suddenly becoming grave again, "will you tell me how you come to have two names? how does a highland scot like you happen to have such a name as stanwell?" scotty gasped; was he going to ignore the whitewashing altogether? "it would be my father's," he answered simply, "but i would always be living here with my grandfather, and i was always called macdonald." "ralph stanwell, ralph stanwell," repeated the schoolmaster ruminatingly, "i've heard that name before. why, yes; i wonder if you are any relation to the captain ralph stanwell i once met in toronto. the name is not common." "my father died there, and my mother, too," was the answer. the new master stared. "surely, surely," he was saying, half to himself, "it couldn't be possible; but his wife's name was macdonald too! and herbert always said the child died!" under the man's steady gaze scotty fidgeted with his axe in combined amazement and embarrassment. "was your father's second name everett?" "yes, and that will be mine, too." the new master stared harder. "well, well, well," he muttered, "i wonder if he knows!" the boy stood lost in a wild speculation. by some queer trick of memory he was back once more in store thompson's shop, a little curly-headed fellow, and felt a man's kind, playful hand upon his curls; and at the sound of his name saw a smiling face grow suddenly grave with amazement, fear and defiance chasing one another across it. how was it that, all through his life, his english name seemed always to produce consternation? monteith shook himself as though awakening from a dream. "i beg your pardon," he said hastily, "your name called up some old memories. and now, i must be going." he held out his hand again. "good-bye, and i thank you for your generosity." "but--but you will not be leaving without your supper!" cried scotty aghast. "thank you, but your grandparents are not expecting me, and----" scotty stared. "but what difference would that be making?" he asked artlessly. "it will be all the better." the new master smiled again at the unconscious hospitality of the remark, and this time accepted the invitation. scotty instantly flung aside his axe, and led the way around to the door. monteith had already learned to expect a warm greeting from the inhabitants of the oro highlands, but he had yet to experience a true scottish-canadian welcome, and was almost overwhelmed by the one he received in the old house under the silver maple. big malcolm met him at the door and made him welcome in a manner that somehow made the guest feel that the old man owned the whole township of oro and was laying it at his feet. mrs. macdonald drew him up to the fire, bewailing the long cold walk he had had, and pulling off his overcoat, calling all the while for scotty to run and put more wood in the stove that she might make a fresh cup of tea. hamish came hurrying up from the barn to shake the guest's hand and make him welcome yet again, and even sport, bruce's successor, leaped round him, barking joyously, as though he understood that the arrival of a visitor was the best possible thing that could happen. then, there was old farquhar, still cackling incoherent gaelic from the chimney corner. before the visitor had got the snow swept from his feet the old man inquired if he had read ossian's poems, and finding him in the depths of ignorance regarding that great bard, turned his back upon him in disgust, and for the remainder of the afternoon snored grumpily. the hostess explained apologetically, as she brought the new master a steaming cup of tea, that indeed poor farquhar was the nice, kind body, but he had had the toothache all last night and would be terrible set on ossian. mrs. macdonald was growing too old for the household cares devolving upon her, and scotty being her chief help, the housekeeping did not at all compare with what monteith was accustomed to in his boarding place at store thompson's. but he was conscious of no lack in the dingy old house. he recognised the inherent refinement of mrs. macdonald's nature, and bowed to it; he knew big malcolm for a gentleman the moment he spoke; and he saw, too, something of the mystic in hamish. for in later years there had grown an expression in hamish's kind brown eyes which the schoolmaster understood--the look of a soul that has longed to soar, but has been kept down by narrow limitations. then the supper was spread upon the table, and it was all the visitor could desire; porridge in brown bowls, smoking and fragrant, sweet white bread, and bannocks with plenty of maple syrup. and afterwards, when the supper was cleared away, and scotty and hamish had finished the milking, they all gathered about the stove, which now stood in front of the old discarded fireplace. first the schoolmaster had to tell of his life and lineage, during which recital he proved his scottish blood to everyone's satisfaction. there did not seem to be much to tell of his past doings, though in response to the simple, kindly questionings, he gave it all. he had been born in scotland and was quite alone in canada, except for captain herbert, who was an old friend, and whose wife had been a distant relative. he had studied law for some years, but his health had failed before his course was completed. then he had knocked about the world a good deal, and had come north at captain herbert's advice to see if the oro air would not do him good. "indeed, and it will that!" big malcolm declared heartily. "jist you eat plenty o' pork and oatmeal porridge and you'll be a new man in no time. hoots, when we would be coming here first folk would never be sick like now-a-days; and indeed it wasn't often a man died except a tree would be falling on him, whatever." "those must have been fine times," said the schoolmaster smilingly; and thereupon his host and hostess launched into long tales of the old days, when the forest came up to the door, and of those older and happier days in the homeland across the sea. big malcolm and his wife lived much in the past now, and, when the guest displayed a kindly interest in their history, they opened their hearts even to speak of callum, their light-hearted, bright callum, whose end had been so untimely. the schoolmaster heard also the manner of his death; how it had brought the great preacher, and how in the double grave in the glen by the river one of the fighting macdonalds, at least, had buried all his feuds. and they told him, too, of their only daughter, the beautiful little margaret, who had been scotty's mother. monteith asked many questions concerning her, and scotty listened eagerly, but his new friend offered no explanation of his interest. when it was time to depart, big malcolm was for insisting that he should spend the night with them; but when he declared that he must return to the glen, or mrs. thompson would be worried, his hostess seized the teapot again, and another supper was spread out, of which the guest had perforce to partake before leaving. that finished, big malcolm reverently laid aside his bonnet, and scotty brought him the old yellow-leaved bible. the old man read the 103d psalm in a triumphant tone that showed he had passed all his temptations and trials, and now in a serene old age his soul blessed the lord for his guidance. and then they sang a psalm, old farquhar coming out from his corner to join them. they sang it in english, in deference to the guest's lack of gaelic, and the brown rafters rang to the solemn old scottish tune in harmony with the beautiful words: "oh, taste and see that god is good: who trusts in him is bless'd!" and listening, the man of the world experienced a vague sensation of something like regretful envy. had he not, in his broader life, missed some uplifting joy, some great blessing in which these old people rejoiced? while monteith was taking a lingering farewell and promising a speedy return, scotty went to a corner and lit the lantern, and in spite of the schoolmaster's protests, insisted upon accompanying him for a mile to show him the short road across the swamp. the two walked side by side along the snowy path, the lantern flashing fitfully amongst the bare branches and dark boles of the trees. monteith chatted away pleasantly, but scotty answered only in monosyllables. he was employed in making desperate efforts to bring about some allusion to the condition of the schoolhouse. but the new master seemed to have totally forgotten school affairs, and when they came to the end of the forest path and stood upon the glenoro road, saying good-night, this strange man had not in the smallest way recurred to the shameful subject. scotty was in despair. "it would be a fool's trick we were doing!" he burst forth, as monteith held out his hand in farewell, "if we could jist be having another day----" he stopped overcome. the new master did not seem to need an explanation of this apparently irrelevant speech. "could you fix it all up in one day?" he inquired in a business-like manner. "oh, yes!" scotty gasped eagerly, "easy." "all right, we'll take to-morrow; i'll come over and help you. good-night!" and he turned away, leaving his pupil standing in the middle of the road amazed and humbled. number nine learned during the following week that for some inexplicable reason the macdonalds, whose hand had hitherto been against every other man's hand, were on the side of the new master, and that anyone who gave him trouble was courting dire calamities at the hands of big malcolm's scot. as a direct result the fiat went forth that dan murphy, and consequently all his generation, also approved of the new rule. subsequently the tenth announced its neutrality; and from that time the new era, which had arisen at the building of the church in the social world of the oro valley, dawned in the schoolhouse too, and the land had rest from war. to no one did the new dispensation bring greater things than to scotty. ever since the days when all knowledge and wisdom could be extracted, by persistent questionings, from hamish, he had experienced an unslakable thirst for books. he had been much more fortunate in finding reading material than his uncle had been, for captain herbert's library was always at scotty's disposal. every summer and winter isabel came to kirsty's laden with books, and what feasts she and scotty had reading under the boughs of the silver maple or before kirsty's fire! dickens, scott, thackeray, macaulay--they devoured them all; and once, by mistake, she had brought some books by a wonderful man named carlyle, which she declared were dreadfully stupid, but which scotty found strangely fascinating, though somewhat beyond his understanding. but isabel had been away at school for more than a year now, and though she wrote scotty voluminous letters, which he answered at shamefully long intervals, and only when kirsty's reproaches goaded him to the effort, she had almost entirely passed out of his life. so when there had been no more books to read he had turned his restless energies into less profitable channels. but now, here were not only books of all kinds, but a man ready and willing to interpret them. scotty heard no more of the sentence of expulsion, and with the energy that characterised everything he did, he plunged headlong into a course of study far beyond any public school curriculum. monteith was first amazed, then delighted, and lastly found he had to set himself severe tasks to keep sufficiently ahead of his pupil. and in return for his pains scotty gave an allegiance to his master that had in it something of homage. not the gay, reckless callum was his hero now, but this quiet, self-controlled gentleman. unconsciously the boy copied him in every particular, and unquestioningly adopted his opinions. monteith had seen the world, had lived in cities, and even in that magic land, "the old country," and surely he should be an authority. scotty early learned that the new master despised the tavern, not quite in the way store thompson and the minister and his grandfather did, as a force of evil, but in lofty scorn of its lowness. in consequence the boy was never found hanging about its doors any more. and though the teacher said nothing about his religious views, the pupil soon learned and adopted them too. monteith treated all creeds with a good-natured tolerance. the bible, he declared, was a grand piece of literature, and he liked to go to church because mr. cameron's sermons gave him some intellectual stimulus. religion he characterised chiefly as an emotion. a man needed only common sense to show him how to live, he declared. scotty felt that this was the creed for him; he had come under monteith's control at a period when he was in revolt against all earlier restraint and rejoiced in the feeling of independence which the new belief brought. the two soon became fast friends in their common pursuit of learning. when the second winter came, and scotty had become too old for school, he and monteith studied together in the long evenings, and each month of companionship served to deepen their friendship. but in spite of their intimacy the boy never elicited any explanation of his friend's strange behaviour when he first realised that scotty's name was stanwell. monteith was always careful to call him ralph, but he forebore from any allusion to the subject; and as the days went happily on the matter dropped from the boy's thoughts. xi the weaver's reward love came at dawn when all the world was fair, when crimson glories, bloom and song were rife; love came at dawn when hope's wings fanned the air, and murmured, "i am life." love came at even when the day was done, when heart and brain were tired and slumber pressed; love came at eve, shut out the sinking sun, and whispered, "i am rest." --william wilfred campbell. and just as scotty entered manhood a wonderful thing happened in the highlands, something that amazed the neighbours and convinced them of the instability of all things, particularly of a woman's resolution, for kirsty john promised to marry the weaver. all these weary years, as faithful as the sun and as untiring, jimmie had been climbing the hills to the oa to shed the beams of his devotion unheeded at kirsty's doorstep; but now the long period of jacob-like service was over, for he had at last won his rachel. some declared that this was only a new method kirsty had found for tormenting her hapless lover, and that after they were tied up she would lead him a dog's life. but long lauchie's girls--there were still girls at long lauchie's, though a goodly number of matrons looked back to the place as their old home--declared that jimmie no longer dodged when kirsty passed him, and that he even entered her house without knocking. and big malcolm's wife would shake her head smilingly at all the dark predictions and declare in her quiet, firm way that indeed they need never fear for jimmie. and she was right; the weaver was not undertaking any such hazardous enterprise as the neighbours supposed. for a change had come over kirsty the winter she lost the frail little mother, and only big malcolm's wife knew its depth. all kirsty's bold courage, all her fearless fight with poverty, had had for its inspiration the poor sufferer on the bed in the corner of the little shanty, and when the spring of action was removed there went also the daughter's dauntless spirit, and nowhere was the change so strongly evinced as in this promise to marry the weaver. kirsty's grief had no bitterness in it. it had softened her greatly, for the little mother's death had been as beautiful as her patient, pain-filled life. and wonderful it seemed that, like that other woman who had suffered so long before, just eighteen years of pain had been completed when the master called her to him and said in his infinite love, "woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity." "but you will surely not be leaving me," pleaded kirsty brokenly when her mother told her the end could not be far off. "ah've nobody but you." "eh, ma lassie, ye'll be better wi'oot such a puir auld buddie, jist a burden to ye a' these years." "oh, mother, mother, ye'll surely not be talkin' that way to me," sobbed her daughter. "eh, eh, lass! there, there! it's naething but the best ah could say to ye, kirsty." the weak old hand was fumbling feebly for kirsty's bowed head. "for, eh, ye've jist been that guid to yer mither, the lord'll reward ye; ah've nae fear o' ye, kirsty, he'll reward ye." there was a long silence in the little room. the fire flared up in the old chimney, the clock's noisy pendulum went tap, tap, tap, loud and clear in the stillness. "read it tae me jist once mair, kirsty," she whispered. kirsty arose and fetched the old yellow-leaved bible from the dresser. she did not need to be told what she was to read. "aye," whispered the old woman with a gleam of triumph in her eyes, "aye, he called her; an' it's jist eighteen year. aye, eighteen! eh, it's been a long time, kirsty," she continued as her daughter seated herself at the bedside again, "eh, a weary time, an' the pain's been that bad, whiles, ah wished he would tak' it awa, but ah didna ask him. no, no! she didna ask him, an' ah jist waited like her, an' it's eighteen year, and ah think he'll be callin' me.... read it, kirsty." kirsty opened the book; her eyes were blinded with tears, but she had so often read that passage that she knew it by heart. she was faltering through it when a timid step sounded, a crunch, crunch on the snow outside the door, and a low tap, scarcely audible above the noise of the clock, announced weaver jimmie. old collie, lying before the fire, so accustomed to jimmie's approach, merely uttered a gruff snort, as though to apprise all that he was well aware that someone had arrived, but did not consider the visitor worthy of his notice. but as kirsty opened the door he thumped his tail upon the hearthstone. for the first time in his life weaver jimmie realised that kirsty was glad to see him, and his heart leaped. but he choked at the sight of her grief-stricken face, and could only stand and look down at his great "shoepacks" in the snow. "will ye bring big malcolm's marget," whispered kirsty, "mother's----" she stopped, unable to say more, but more was unnecessary, for, eager to do her bidding, jimmie was already off across the white clearing and was lost to view before she could shut the door. kirsty went softly back to the bed. "was it jimmie?" whispered her mother. "yes." "he's a kind chiel, kirsty. ye must marry puir jimmie, ma lassock, he's got a guid hert, an' he'll mak' ye a kind man, an' ah'll no be fearin' for ye." she paused, and then came the whisper, "read it." so kirsty read it to her for the last time, the sweet old story that had comforted the poor, pain-racked woman and upheld her in patience and fortitude for eighteen weary years of suffering. and when at the end of the story came those gracious words bearing a world of love and divine compassion, "and jesus called her to him and said unto her, woman, thou art loosed from thine infirmity," kirsty paused. her mother always interrupted there, always broke in with a word of triumph, a renewal of the firm faith that for eighteen years had forbidden her to ask for relief. but as she waited now there came no sound, and, looking up, she saw that the divine healer had loosed this other woman from her infirmity and made her straight and beautiful in his kingdom of happiness. and so kirsty, always kind and true-hearted, had been made better and more womanly by her trial; and although she kept her faithful suitor waiting for a couple of years more, she yielded at last and the weaver received his reward. as if to be in keeping with the time of life at which the bride and groom had arrived, the wedding day was set in the autumn; the soft vaporous october days when the oro forests were all aflame. kirsty had refused to leave her little farm; so jimmie, well content, had a fine new frame house built close to her old home; and as soon as the wedding was over he was to bring his loom from the glen and they would begin their new life together. kirsty declared that he might bring the loom any day, for there was to be no nonsense at her wedding; they would drive to the minister's in the glen by themselves, and she would be home in time to milk the cows in the evening. but when she saw the bitter disappointment a quiet wedding would be to the prospective groom, she had not the heart to insist. for years jimmie had buoyed up his sorely-tried courage by the ecstatic picture of himself and kirsty dancing on their wedding night, he the envy of all the macdonald boys, she the pattern for all the girls; and though neither he nor his bride were any longer young, he still cherished his youthful dream. and then long lauchie's girls came over in a body and demanded a wedding and a fine big dance, and even big malcolm's wife declared it would hardly be right not to have some public recognition of the fact that there was a wedding among the macdonalds. and so, laughing at what she called their foolishness, kirsty yielded, and the girls came over and sewed and scrubbed and baked, and scotty and peter lauchie gathered in the apples and turnips and potatoes and raked away all the dead leaves and made everything neat and tidy for the great event. and the day actually dawned, in spite of weaver jimmie's anticipation that some dire catastrophe would befall to prevent it. a radiant autumn day it was, a canadian autumn day, when all the best days of the year seem combined to crown its close. the dazzling skies belonged to june, the air was of balmiest may, and the earth was clothed in hues of the richest august blooms. the forest was a blaze of colour. the sumachs and the woodbine made flaming patches on the hills and in the fence-corners. the glossy oaks, with their polished bronze leaves, and the pale, yellow elms softened the glow and blended with the distant purple haze. but canada's own maple made all the rest of the forest look pale, where it lined the road to the bride's house, in rainbows of colour, rose and gold and passionate crimson. early in the afternoon high double buggies, waggons, and buckboards began clattering up the lane to kirsty's dwelling. and such a crowd as they brought! in the exuberance of his joy weaver jimmie had bidden all and sundry between the two lakes. and besides, everyone in the oa went to a macdonald wedding, anyway. invitations were always issued in a rather haphazard fashion, and if one did not get a direct call, it mattered little in this land of prodigal hospitality, for one always bestowed a compliment upon one's host by attending. long lauchie's girls took the whole affair out of kirsty's hands and arranged everything to their hearts' desire. the cooking and washing of dishes was to be done in the old house, while the double ceremony of the marriage and the wedding dinner was to be performed in the new establishment. this place was gaily decorated with the aromatic boughs of the cedar, dressed with scarlet berries and crimson maple leaves. a table at one end held the wedding presents. this was the work of the lauchie girls, too, for kirsty felt it was nothing short of ostentation to put up to the public gaze all the fine quilts and blankets and hooked mats the neighbours had given her towards the furnishing of the new home. but the girls had their way in this as in all other arrangements, and most conspicuous in the fine array were a bible from the minister and a set of fine gilt-edged china dishes from captain herbert's family. and amidst all this splendour sat the bride, sedate and happy, arrayed in a bright blue poplin dress and the regulation white cap. beside her sat jimmie, his arm about her in proper bridegroom fashion, but loosely, for kirsty was not to be trifled with, even on her wedding day. he sat up, erect and stiff, strangling ecstatically in a flaring white collar, and striving manfully to keep his broad smiles from overflowing into loud laughter, for poor jimmie's belated joy bordered on the hysterical. his magnificent appearance almost eclipsed the bride. he wore a coat of black, such as the minister himself might have envied, a saffron waistcoat, and a pair of black and white trousers of a startlingly large check. his hair was oiled and combed up fiercely, his red whiskers waged a doubtful warfare for first place with the white collar, his big feet were doubly conspicuous in a pair of red-topped, high-heeled boots which, unfortunately, met the trousers halfway and swallowed up much of their glory. but as both could not be exposed, jimmie, evidently believing in the survival of the fittest, had allowed the boots the place of honour. scotty drove his grandmother over to kirsty's early in the morning, for the bride said she must have her mother's old friend with her all day; and when he returned in company with hamish, his grandfather, and old farquhar, it was almost the hour set for the ceremony. the wedding guests had already gathered in large numbers, many of them standing about the door or in the garden--matrons in gay plaid shawls, with here and there a fantastic "paisley" brought out, for this festive occasion, from the seclusion of some deep sea-chest; men, weather-beaten and stooped, in grey flannel shirtsleeves, showing an occasional genteel sabbath coat from the glen; bright-eyed lasses, with gay touches of finery to brighten their young beauty; youths in heavy boots and homespun clothing, gathered in laughing groups as far from the house as possible; and everywhere babies of all sizes. scotty left a crowd of his friends at the barn and went up to the house to look for monteith. the schoolmaster had spent the preceding saturday and sunday with his friends at lake oro, but had promised jimmie faithfully that he would not miss the wedding. as the young man swung open the little garden gate and came up the pathway between rows of kirsty's asters he caught sight of his friend standing in the doorway of the new house, and gave a gay whistle. monteith looked up quickly, but instead of answering he turned to someone inside the house. "here he is at last," he called, "come and see if you think he's grown any." and the same instant a vision flashed into the little doorway, a vision that nearly took away scotty's breath--a tall young lady in a blue velvet gown with a sweet, laughing face and a crown of golden hair overshadowed by a big plumed hat, a lady who looked as if she had just stepped out of a book of romance; a high-born princess, very remote and unapproachable, and yet, somehow, strangely, enchantingly familiar. the vision apparently did not want to be remote, for it came down the steps in a little, headlong rush, casting a pair of gloves to one side and a cape to the other, and caught hold of both scotty's hands. "_scotty_! oh, oh, scotty, _dear_!" it cried; and then it was no longer an unapproachable heroine from a story-book, but just isabel; isabel, his old chum, and something more, something strangely wonderfully new. scotty did not return her welcome with the warmth he would have shown a few years earlier. he stood gazing down at her as if in a dream, and then the red came up under the dark tan of his cheek and overspread his face. he dropped her hands and looked around hastily, as if he wanted to escape. but isabel dragged him up the garden path in her old way, deluging him with questions for which she never waited an answer. she had seen granny malcolm and betty and peter, and she had been afraid he wasn't coming. and, oh, wasn't it an awfully long time since she had seen any of them? and didn't he think he was very unkind not to have answered her last two letters? and she had been away at school all this endless time, not home to the grange even in the summer! and, oh, how glad she was to get back! and how he had grown! why, he was a giant! and had he missed her? she had missed him just awfully, for harold was away all the time now. and wasn't it just too perfectly lovely for anything that kirsty and jimmie were getting married, and that he and she were together at the wedding? scotty stood and listened to these ecstatic outpourings, his head swimming. he was enveloped in a rose-coloured mist, a mist in which blue velvet and golden hair and dancing eyes surrounded and dazzled him. one moment he was a child again, and his little playmate had come back, and the next he was a man and isabel was the lady of romance. and while he stood in this delightful daze someone came and took the vision away; he thought it was mary lauchie, but was not sure. when she had disappeared into the new house he awoke sufficiently to notice that monteith was standing at the door regarding him with twinkling eyes, and for the second time that afternoon he blushed. the crowd was beginning to gravitate towards the new house, and scotty soon found an excuse to enter also. it hadn't been a dream after all, for she was there, sitting close by kirsty, holding her hand, and surrounded by the people who made up the more genteel portion of society in the oa and the glen. a little space seemed to divide them from the common crowd, and she sat, the recognised centre of the group. scotty noticed, too, that even mrs. cameron, the minister's wife, treated the young lady with bland deference, quite unlike her manner of kind condescension towards the macdonald girls. as he watched the graceful gestures and easy well-bred air of his late comrade, scotty was suddenly smitten with a sense of his own shortcomings; he was rough, uncouth, awkward. isabel belonged to a different sphere; she was far removed from him and his people. it was the first time he had realised the difference, and he felt it just at the moment that it first had power to hurt him. he experienced a sudden return of the old wild ambition that used to shake him in his childhood when rory played a warlike air. and then he wanted to slip out and go away from the wedding feast and never see isabel again. he glanced at her again, and felt resentfully that she must surely be guilty of the sin of "pride," which so characterised the class to which she belonged. but he had soon to change his mind. the blue eyes had been glancing eagerly about the room, and as soon as they spied him their owner arose and came crushing through the throng towards him. for though scotty was distrustful, isabel's frank simplicity of nature had not changed in her years of absence. her happiest days had been spent in the oa, and her return to her old home with its sense of welcome and freedom meant more to the lonely girl than he could realise. practically she had been brought up among the macdonalds, and at heart she was one of them. scotty saw her approach in combined joy and embarrassment, and just as he was trying to efface himself in a corner he found her at his side. she wanted to talk about the good old times, she whispered, as she pulled him down beside her on the low window sill. "they were just the loveliest old times, weren't they, scotty? and don't you hate to be grown up?" she asked. hate it? scotty gloried in it. it was a new birth. he tried to say so, but isabel shook her head emphatically. "well, i don't, and you wouldn't in my place, for i can't run in the bush any more. aunt eleanor bewails me; she says i've been spoiled by kirsty, for i can't settle down to a proper life in the city. the backwoods is the best place, isn't it, scotty?" he drew a long breath. "do you mean you'd really like to come here and live with--with kirsty again?" he asked. "oh, wouldn't i?" she cried, her eyes sparkling so that scotty had to look away. "it was never dull here. don't you wish i'd come back, too?" scotty felt his head reeling. "i--don't know," he faltered ungallantly. "you don't know?" she echoed indignantly. "scotty macdonald, how can you say such a mean thing?" scotty looked up with a sudden desperate boldness. "because i wouldn't be doing any work if you were here," he exclaimed with a recklessness that appalled even himself. isabel laughed delightedly. "that's lovely," she cried. "do you know, i was beginning to be afraid, _almost_, that you weren't just very glad to see me, and--and you always used to be. you _are_ glad i came, aren't you, scotty?" like a timid swimmer, who, having once plunged in, discovers his own strength and gains courage, scotty struck out boldly into the conversational sea. "it was the best thing that ever happened in all my life," he answered deliberately. she was prevented from receiving this important declaration with the consideration it deserved by a sudden silence falling over the room. the minister was standing up in the centre of the room, clearing his throat and looking around portentously. the ceremony was about to commence, and all conversation was instantly hushed. mothers quieted their babies, and the men came clumsily tiptoeing indoors. whenever possible the more ceremonious precincts of the house were left to the more adaptable sex, the masculine portion of such assemblies always retiring to the greater freedom of the barn and outbuildings. now they came crowding in, however, obviously embarrassed, but when the minister stood up, book in hand, and a hush fell over the room, the affair took on a religious aspect and everyone felt more at home. mr. cameron moved to a little open space in the centre of the room, and bade kirsty and weaver jimmie stand before him. mary lauchie, pale and drooping as she always was now, stood at kirsty's side, and jimmie had the much needed support of roarin' sandy's archie, now the most fashionable young man in the oa, who was resplendent in aromatic hair oil and a flaming tie. jimmie was white and trembling, but kirsty was calm. only once did she show any emotion, when she had to search for her neatly-folded handkerchief in the pocket of her ample skirt to wipe away a tear--a tear that, all the sympathetic onlookers knew, was for the little mother who had said so confidently she had no fears for kirsty's future. at last the minister pronounced them one, and the friends gathered about them with their congratulations, and, to the delight of all, what should miss herbert do, after hugging the bride, but fling her arms about the bridegroom's neck also and give him a sounding kiss! if anything could have added to jimmie's pride and joy at that moment, this treatment by kirsty's little girl would certainly have done so. and then came the wedding supper, the tables set out with the precious new china dishes and weighed down and piled up with everything good the macdonald matrons knew how to cook. the bride and groom sat close together at the head of the long table, jimmie's affectionate demonstrations partially hidden by the huge wedding cake. the minister sat at the foot, and after a long and fervent grace had been said everyone drew a deep breath and proceeded to enjoy himself. there was a deal of clatter and noise and laughter and running to and fro of waiters. in the old house where the work was going on, and where there was no minister to put a damper on the proceedings, there were high times indeed; for dan murphy was there, and wherever dan was there was sure to be an uproar. scotty was responsible for the young man's presence; he had invited mr. murphy on the strength of his own relationship to both contracting parties, knowing a warm welcome was assured. so, with an apron tied round his waist, dan was making a fine pretence of helping betty lauchie wash dishes, his chief efforts, however, being directed towards balancing pots of boiling water in impossible positions, twirling precious plates in the air, and other outlandish feats that added a great deal to the enjoyment, but very little to the competence, of the assembled cooks. scotty joined the army of workers in the shanty, but he had left the blue vision seated at the table between his grandparents, and his culinary efforts were not much more successful than dan's. his chum tried to rally him on his absent looks, and made a sly allusion to the effusive greeting of the young lady from lake oro. but scotty met his well-meant raillery with such unwonted ferocity that he very promptly subsided. in the new house, where the elder guests were gathered about the table, affairs were much more ceremonious, for all the genteel folk the neighbourhood could boast were there, and jimmie's face shone with pride as he glanced down the splendid array. the bridegroom's joy seemed to permeate the whole feast. there was much talk and laughter, and, among the elder women, a wonderful clatter of gaelic. for only on such rare occasions as this had they a chance to meet, and there were many lengthy recountings of sicknesses, deaths, and burials. long lauchie, as usual, was full of vague and ominous prophecies. his remarks were chiefly concerning the wedding feast to which those who were bidden refused to come, with dark reference to the man who had not on the wedding garment; neither of which allusions, surely, pointed to either weaver jimmie or his marriage festivities. near him, in a little circle where english was spoken, praying donald and the minister were leading a discussion on the evidences of christianity. there was only one quarter in which there were signs of anything but perfect amity, and that was where a heated argument had arisen between old farquhar and peter sandy johnstone upon the respective merits of ossian and burns; a discussion which, in spite of the age of the disputants, would certainly have ended in blows, had it been in the old days when a marriage was scarcely considered binding without a liberal supply of whiskey. but kirsty's wedding, happily, belonged to the new era, and the minister, glancing round the well conducted assemblage and recalling the days, not so far past, when most of the highlanders enlivened any and every social function, from a barn-raising to a burial, with spirits, heaved a great sigh of gratitude. and store thompson unconsciously voiced his sentiments when he declared, in a neatly turned little speech, that the occasion was "jist an auspicious consummation-like." there were several other speakers besides the minister and store thompson, and each made the kindliest allusions to both bride and groom; but, like the true scots they were, carefully refrained from paying compliments. there were songs and stories, too, stirring scottish choruses, and tales of the early days and of the great doings in the homeland. then big malcolm's farquhar, who had long ago come to regard himself in the light of the old itinerant bards, sang, like chibiabos, to make the wedding guests more contented. he had but a single english song in his repertoire, one which he rendered with much pride, and only on state occasions. this was a flowery love-lyric, entitled "the grave of highland mary," and was farquhar's one tribute to the despised burns. it consisted of a half-dozen lengthy stanzas, each followed by a still lengthier refrain, and was sung to an ancient and erratic air that rose and fell like the wail of the winter winds in the bare treetops. the venerable minstrel sang with much fervour, and only in the last stanza did the swelling notes subside in any noticeable degree. this was not because the melancholy words demanded, but because the singer was rather out of breath. so he sang with some breathless hesitation: "yet the green simmer saw but a few sunny mornings till she, in the bloom of her beauty and pride, was laid in her grave like a bonnie young flower in greenock kirkyard on the banks of the clyde." but, when he found himself launched once more upon the familiar refrain, he rallied his powers and sang out loudly and joyfully: "then bring me the lilies and bring me the roses, and bring me the daisies that grow in the dale, and bring me the dew of the mild summer evening, and bring me the breath of the sweet-scented gale; and bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom, and bring me the tear of a fond lover's e'e, and i'll pour them a' doon on thy grave, highland mary, for the sake o' thy burns who sae dearly loved thee!" it did not seem the kind of song exactly suited to a hymeneal feast, but everyone listened respectfully until the old man had wavered through to the end and called, for the last time, for the lilies, the roses and the daisies; and before he had time to start another fiddlin' archie struck up "scots wha hae," and the whole company joined. when everyone, even to the last waiter in the old shanty, had been fed and the tables were all cleared away, scotty deserted monteith, and once more took up his station on the window sill where he could catch glimpses of isabel's golden head through the crowd. he could see she was the object of many admiring glances; the macdonald girls stood apart whispering wondering remarks concerning the beauty of her velvet gown, and even betty lauchie seemed shy of her old playmate. nevertheless, when, upon spying him in his corner, isabel came again and seated herself beside him, scotty forgot all differences between them and blossomed out into friendliness under the light of her eyes. for she had clear, honest eyes that looked beneath the rough exterior of her country friends and recognised the true, leal hearts beneath. yes, she was the same old isabel, scotty declared to himself, and something more, something he hardly dared think of yet. he sat and chatted freely with her of all that had happened since they had last met, her life in a ladies' boarding school and his progress under monteith's instruction, and he found that with all her schooling he was far ahead of her in book knowledge. then there were past experiences to recall; the playhouse they had built beneath the silver maple, the mud pies they had made down by the edge of the swamp, the excursions down the birch creek, and the part they had played in poor callum's sad romance. "and what are you going to be, scotty?" she asked. "don't you remember it was always either an indian or a soldier, a 'black watcher' you used to call it? you ought to go to college, you must be more than prepared for it since you've learned so much from mr. monteith." scotty's eyes glowed. a college course was the dream of his life, sleeping or waking. but he shook his head. "i'd like it," he said, trying to keep the gloom out of his voice, "but there's not much chance." "oh, dear," sighed the girl, "things seem to be all wrong in this world. there's harold now; uncle walter fairly begged him to go to college, but he went only one year." "where is your cousin now?" "he's in the english navy, and poor uncle frets for him. he's an officer too. i can't imagine hal making anybody mind him. i always used to be the 'party in power,' as uncle walter used to say when hal was home." scotty laughed. "i expect he'd have a hard time if he didn't let you have your own way," he said slyly. "now, scotty, you know you didn't let me have my own way, now, did you? but somehow, i think i was always in a better humour at kirsty's here, i didn't have anyone to bother me." "i know what i'd like most to be," said scotty, with a sudden burst of feeling. "what?" "a prince!" "a prince! why, in all the world?" "because you are just like all the princesses i have ever read about." scotty was making headlong progress in a subject to which he had never been even introduced by monteith. the girl looked up at him with an expression of half-amused wonder in her eyes. "why, scotty," she declared, "you're as bad as any society man for paying compliments. but you will be something great some day, i know. mr. monteith says so." scotty's face lit up. "if i'm ever worth anything i'll owe it all to him," he exclaimed enthusiastically. "isn't he fine?" "he's just a dear. if it hadn't been for his help i should never have been able to come for this visit. but he told aunt eleanor that we would elope if i wasn't allowed to come. isn't he funny? and just think, scotty, i'm going to stay a whole month, perhaps two!" scotty was speechless. "now, i'm sure you're glad! yes, i'm to stay at the manse for about two weeks, until poor jimmie and kirsty have a little honeymoon by themselves, and then i'm coming here. auntie and uncle have been invited to spend a month with friends in toronto, and i didn't want to go because"--she hesitated and then laughed softly--"well, because i have to be so horribly proper all the time, so i begged to come here instead, and as mrs. cameron had invited me and mr. monteith coaxed too, uncle walter consented. and there's a possibility they might not be back till christmas. oh, i wish they wouldn't! am i not wicked?" "i've got a colt of my own," scotty burst forth with apparent irrelevance, "he's a fine driver." isabel seemed to understand. "i hope mrs. cameron will let me go," she said, though there had been no invitation. she glanced around the room and found that lady making rather anxious motions in her direction. the minister's wife had been taking note of the fact that miss herbert and one of the young macdonald men had been renewing their acquaintance in a rather headlong fashion. mrs. cameron was a lady who had an eye for the fitness of things, and, being responsible for young miss herbert, she decided it was high time to take her home. so, when the girl looked up her hostess beckoned her, and announced rather sedately that they must be going, as the minister had already begun his round of handshaking. "and when will i see you again?" scotty asked forlornly, as the girl came downstairs dressed for her drive. isabel was intent on buttoning her glove. "i--i suppose you sometimes come to the glen?" she suggested, without looking up. scotty hastened to asseverate that he spent almost all his waking hours there, and that he was a daily visitor at the manse; and before mrs. cameron could get through bidding the neighbours good-bye, he had secured permission to come with his black colt the next day, and with mrs. cameron's consent they would drive up to the oa to see how the silver maple looked in its autumn dress. no sooner had the minister and the elder guests turned their backs, than the young folk who remained made a joyous rush for the furniture. chairs and benches were piled helter-skelter in the corners and a unanimous demand arose for fiddlin' archie's sandy to bestir his lazy bones and tune up! thus importuned, the musician, who had fearfully concealed his unholy instrument from the minister's eyes all afternoon, mounted upon a table, and after much screwing up and letting down and strumming of notes, now high and squeaky, now low and buzzing, banged his bow down upon all the strings at once, and in stentorian tones gave forth the electrifying command: "take--yer--partners!" this was the signal for a general stampede, not out upon the floor, but back to the walls, leaving a clear space down the middle of the room; for dancing before company was a serious business not to be entered upon lightly, and it required no small courage to be the first to step out into the range of the public eye. balls were generally opened by a couple of agile young men dashing madly into the middle of the floor to execute a clattering step dance opposite each other, and under cover of this sortie the whole army would sweep simultaneously into the field. dan murphy and roarin' sandy's archie were the two who this night first ventured into the jaws of public opinion. jimmie's best man, as became the dandy of the countryside, could disport himself with marvellous skill on the terpsichorean floor, and dan murphy was at least warranted to make plenty of noise. the two young men flung aside their coats and went at their task, heel and toe, with a right good will and a tremendous clatter. they pranced before each other, stepping high, like thoroughbred horses, they slapped the floor with first one foot, then the other, they reeled, they twirled, they shuffled and double-shuffled, and pounded the floor, as though they would fain tramp their way through to kirsty's new cellar; while, in his efforts to keep pace with them, the fiddler nearly sawed his instrument asunder. but just when they were in the midst of the most intricate part of the gyrations, the spirit of the dance seized the spectators, and the next moment the performers were engulfed in the whirl of the oncoming flood. but roarin' sandy's archie was not the sort to lose his identity in the vulgar throng. he was the most famous "caller-off" in the township of oro, as everyone knew; and staggering out of the maelstrom, he seized betty lauchie and was soon in the midst of his double task, his face set and tense, for it was no easy matter to manage one's own feet and at the same time guide the reckless movements of some twenty heedless and bouncing couples who acted as though a dance was an affair of no moment whatever. scotty did not remain for the dance, but accompanied his uncle home. he wanted to be alone to think over the wonderful events of the day and of the joys of the morrow. there were not many youths who followed his example. when the dance broke up the majority of them merely retired to the edge of the clearing to return half an hour later armed with guns, horns, tin pans, old saws from the mill, and all other implements warranted to produce an uproar and annihilate peace. with these they proceeded to make the night hideous by serenading the bridal pair until the late autumn dawn chased them to the cover of the woods. this last festivity gave no offence, however, being quite in accordance with the custom of the country and the expectations of the bride and groom. and so weaver jimmie's wedding passed off just as, through the long years of waiting, he had dreamed it would; and one young man, who had been a guest at their marriage feast, entered that day upon a new life, as surely as did the bride and groom. xii a well-meant plot o, love will build his lily walls, and love his pearly roof will rear,- on cloud or land, or mist or sea- love's solid land is everywhere! --isabelle valancy crawford. the minister and his wife had been on a pastoral visitation to the oa, and, having had an early tea at long lauchie's, were driving homeward. the first snow had fallen a few days before and had been succeeded by rain, which, freezing as it fell, formed a hard, glassy "crust" on the top of the snow. this glimmering surface reflected the radiant evening skies like a polished mirror. the surrounding fields were a sea of glass mingled with fire, and the whole earth had become an exact copy of heaven. away ahead stretched the road like two polished, golden bars that gradually melted into the violet and mauve tints of the dusky pines. through the frequent openings in the purple forest they could see, far over hill and valley, a marvellous vista, all enveloped in the wondrous glow, the patches of woodland looking like fairy islands floating in a sea of gold. overhead, the delicately green heavens shone through the marvellous tracery of the bare branches. the horse's bells echoed far into the woods, the only sound in the winter stillness, for the whole world seemed silent and wondering before the beauty of the dying day. the two travellers had not spoken for some time; the minister was lost in contemplation of the glorious night, and the minister's wife, alas, was absorbed in a subject that had been worrying her for more than a month, the subject of miss isabel herbert. before her visit at the manse had terminated, mrs. cameron had come to consider her invitation to that young lady as the great mistake of her hitherto well-ordered life. for no sooner had the guest been settled than that young macdonald, who was such a friend of mr. monteith, began to appear with alarming frequency. now, though there might have been no harm in captain herbert's niece playing in the backwoods with big malcolm's grandson when they were children, mrs. cameron mentally declared that, now they were grown up, such a thing as intimacy between them was absolutely out of the question. miss herbert, she well knew, would be horrified at the thought, and she set herself sternly to discourage the young man's attentions. but she found this no easy task. one of her greatest obstacles was the minister himself. the good man had long yearned to bring monteith and his friend into the church and now hailed scotty's visits as special opportunities sent him by providence. to his wife's dismay he warmly welcomed the young man, pressed him to come again speedily, and was, in his innocent goodness of heart, as much a trial to his wife as isabel herself. and isabel certainly was a handful. in captain herbert's niece one surely might have looked for a model, but the young lady did not conduct herself with the exact propriety her hostess expected. mrs. cameron was quietly proud of the fact that she had been very well brought up herself and knew what was due one's station in life. but miss isabel was an anomaly. she belonged to one of the best families in the county of simcoe and had been educated in a select school for young ladies; but, in spite of these advantages, she would much rather tear around the house with the dog, her hair flying in the wind, than sit in the parlour with her crocheting, as a young lady should. moreover, if she could be persuaded to settle for a moment with a piece of sewing, at the sound of a horse's hoofs at the gate, or the whirl of a buggy up the driveway, she would jump from her seat, scattering spools, scissors and thimble in every direction and go dancing out to the door, joyfully announcing to everyone within the house that here was "dear old scotty!" and yet, she was so charmingly deferential, and, in spite of her high spirits, so anxious to please, that her hostess had not the heart to chide her. her whole-hearted innocence had begun to disarm the lady's suspicions when, at the end of a week, the watchful eye noted signs of an alarming change in her troublesome charge. isabel ceased entirely to mention scotty's name. she did not talk, either, as had been her wont, of the delightful times they had had together in their childhood. neither did she run to meet him any more when he came, but would sit demurely at her sewing until he entered, or even fly upstairs when his horse appeared at the gate. these were the worst possible symptoms, and mrs. cameron appealed to the minister. but he, good man, was not at all perturbed. he saw nothing to worry about, he declared. probably the young lady had discovered that she did not care for her old comrade as much as when they were children and was taking this tactful way of showing him the fact. mrs. cameron was in a state of mingled indignation and despair over such masculine obtuseness, and vowed that if young macdonald were not politely requested to discontinue his attentions to captain herbert's niece, she would feel it her duty to send the aforesaid niece home. but the minister would consider neither project. when he had a man's soul in view everything else must be made subordinate. the young man was showing signs of an awakening conscience, he affirmed; he had displayed wonderful interest in the sermons lately and had asked some very hopeful questions during their last conversation. and beside all this the young lady was having a good influence on him, for the lad had missed neither church nor prayer meeting since she came. indeed, she was a fine lassie, and wonderfully clear on the essentials; though, of course, she had a few unsound anglican doctrines. but kirsty john's mother had trained her well in her childhood and she was not far astray. no, it would be interfering with the inscrutable ways of providence to separate these two now, they must just let them be. so scotty and isabel had things all their own way; and, when, at last, weaver jimmie and his wife came and carried the young lady off to the oa, her late hostess declared she washed her hands of the whole affair. but her guest's departure did not bring her entire relief from responsibility. she could not get away from the suspicion that miss herbert would blame her, and the rumours that came from the oa were not calculated to allay her fears. kirsty john's little lady from the grange and big malcolm's scot were always together, the gossips said, and indeed it was a great wonder the black colt wasn't driven to death. so to-night mrs. cameron was too much worried to notice the beauty of the landscape. nearly a month had slipped past since isabel had left her; the herberts had returned to the grange, and still the young lady showed no signs of departing. the minister's wife looked out sharply as they approached weaver jimmie's place. if she could catch sight of her late guest she would delicately hint that propriety demanded that she go home. as they entered a little evergreen wood that bordered weaver jimmie's farm, there arose the sound of singing from the road ahead. a turn around a cedar clump brought into view a solitary figure a few yards before them--the figure of a little old man, wearing a scotch bonnet and wrapped in a gay tartan plaid. it was a bent, homely figure, but one containing a soul apparently lifted far above earthly things, for he was pouring forth a psalm, expressive of his joy in the glory of the evening, and with an ecstasy that might have befitted orpheus greeting the dawn. his voice was high, loud, and cracked; but the words he had chosen showed that old farquhar discerned the divine in nature, a revelation that comes only to the true artist: "ye gates, lift up your heads on high; ye doors that last for aye, be lifted up that so the king of glory enter may. but who is he that is the king of glory? who is this? the lord of hosts, and none but he the king of glory is!" the minister smiled tenderly, there was a mist before his eyes when he paused to shake the old man's withered hand. "yes, it is a wonderful night, farquhar," he said. "truly the heavens declare the glory of god and the firmament showeth his handiwork." the old man smiled ecstatically, and after a halting greeting in english to the minister's wife, dropped into gaelic. mrs. cameron did not understand the language of her husband's people, and while the two men conversed she looked about her. kirsty's house was just beyond the grove, isabel might be near. a narrow, dim pathway led from the road across the woods to the house, an alluring pathway bordered thickly with firs, and now all in purple shadows, except when occasionally the golden light sifted through the velvety branches and touched the snow. something was moving away down the shadowy aisle. she looked sharply, it moved out into a lighter space and resolved itself into two figures going slowly, so very slowly, down the path in the direction of the weaver's house. there was no mistaking isabel's long, grey coat, or young macdonald's stalwart figure. they paused at the bars that led into the yard, they were evidently saying good-night.... mrs. cameron did not wait even to take off her bonnet, upon her return home, before sitting down to write miss herbert, of the grange, a letter, a letter which evidently alarmed the recipient, for before many days miss isabel packed her trunk with a very sober face and took her leave. it was partly this sudden manner of her departure that made monteith resolve to visit his friends at lake oro. he wanted to see captain herbert on important business--business which, he felt, had been too long delayed, and besides he was anxious to discover, if possible, what the people of the grange had done to offend ralph on the day he had taken isabel home. that he had been mortally offended by someone monteith could not help seeing; but whether by isabel herself, or another, scotty's reticence prevented his discovering. "i'm going up to the captain's to-morrow," he remarked casually, as he sat and smoked by big malcolm's fire one evening. he glanced at scotty, and that young man arose and began to cram the red-hot stove with wood, until his grandfather shouted to him that he must be gone daft, for was he wanting to roast them all out? "oh, indeed," said mrs. macdonald, suspending her knitting with a look of pleased interest. "and you will be seeing the little lady. eh, it is herself will be the fine girl, not a bit o' pride, with all her beautiful manners and her learning, indeed." "she will be jist the same as when she used to run round this house in her bare feet with scotty," declared big malcolm enthusiastically. "it is a great peety indeed that she will belong to that english upstart!" scotty had settled down in deep absorption to whittle a stick and was apparently taking no notice of the conversation. monteith regarded big malcolm curiously. he had been long enough in the settlement to understand that the ordinary pioneer had no love for the more privileged class that had settled along the waterfronts. socially the latter belonged to a different sphere from the farmers; and having often been able, in the early days, to secure from the government concessions not granted to all, they were regarded by the common folk with some resentment. but the difference between the two classes, like all other differences, was fast dying out, and the schoolmaster well knew that big malcolm had other and deeper reasons for his dislike of a man so popular as captain herbert. he longed to know, before he visited the grange, just how much his friend had sinned against the old man. "oh, i suppose he's no worse than many of his kind," he said tentatively. "aye, but that is jist where you will be mistaken," said big malcolm, a dangerous light beginning to leap up in his eye. "if this place would be knowing the kind of a man he is, indeed it would not be parliament he would be thinking about next fall, but----" he stopped suddenly. "och, hoch, the lord forgive me, and he will be your friend, too, mr. monteith," he added hastily, with a return of his natural courtesy. "indeed i would be forgetting myself." "why does your grandfather hate the captain so?" inquired monteith, as scotty walked with him to the gate. "i'll not know," said scotty morosely. "i think they had some quarrel long ago, about land or something, when they came here first." "and did he never give any hint of what the trouble was?" "not to us boys. it was one of those things he would always be fighting against, and granny kept him back, too. he would be often going to speak of the captain, when she would stop him." scotty's tone was gloomy. this last surviving feud of his warlike grandfather weighed heavily upon his soul. for, indeed, matters had gone sadly wrong in scotty's world lately, and life was proving a very hard and sordid business. monteith said no more, but the next morning he set off for his friend's house, determined to settle once for all those questions which had been troubling him ever since he had learned that young ralph stanwell lived. something must be done with ralph, and that right away. he had taught him as far as he could, and the boy must not be allowed to waste his talents in the backwoods. the grange, captain herbert's residence on the shore of lake oro, was a different building from the homes of the people among whom the schoolmaster lived; for its owner belonged to the fortunate class for whom life during the early settlement of the country had been made easy by money and political influence. the house, a long, low, white stone building with plenty of broad verandahs, stood close to the water's edge, sheltered by a stately oak grove. it was surrounded by wide lawns and a garden, all now covered with their winter blanket. as monteith went up the broad, well-shovelled path, a crowd of dogs of all sizes came tearing round the house from the rear with a tumult of barking. he stooped to fondle a little terrier, and when he looked up the master of the house was coming down the steps with outstretched hands. "by jove, archie!" he cried, his face shining with pleasure, "i'd almost come to the conclusion that the fighting macdonalds had eaten you alive! why, we haven't seen you since october, and i've been blue-moulding for somebody to talk to. well, i _am_ glad to see you. get down, you confounded brute! come in. come in. why, you certainly are a stranger. and just at the right moment, too! i'm all alone. brian drove eleanor and belle to barbay this morning. get out, you infernal curs! those dogs all ought to be shot!" and so, talking loud and fast, as was his manner, the hearty captain led the way into the house. a small room at the left of the hall, with two windows looking out upon the ice-bound lake, constituted the captain's private den. a bright wood fire blazed in the open grate. the host drew up a couple of arm-chairs before it. "so you've decided to immure yourself in the backwoods for another year, i hear," he said, when his guest was comfortably seated and supplied with a cigar. "come, archie, this will never do. two years was the limit you set when you took the school, and there's no more the matter with you than there is with me. you're actually getting fat, man!" "why, i do believe i am," said the other apologetically. "i shall probably grow corpulent and lazy, and settle down in glenoro to a peaceful old age." "not a bit of you! you look like a new man, and you ought to get back to your law books." monteith drew his hand over his grey hair with a meaning smile. "it seems rather foolish at my age, but i believe i shall; the oro air has really made a new man of me, as you say. i believe i should have gone long ago if i hadn't been interested in a certain young person there." "a young person! thunder and lightning, archie, don't tell me you've gone and fallen in love!" monteith laughed. "upon my word i believe i have," he asserted, "but don't look so aghast, the object of my devotion is six feet high, and is cultivating a moustache." "oh, that young macdonald chum of yours. you gave me quite a shock." the guest noticed that his friend's face changed at the mention of scotty; there was a moment's rather awkward silence. "so the ladies are away," said monteith at last. "i am unfortunate." captain herbert burst into a hearty laugh. "why, bless my soul, you've had the escape of your life! eleanor has it in for you, for shifting your responsibility and sending little bluebell home with your young macdonald; an uncommonly handsome young beggar he is too, with the airs of a highland chieftain, quite the kind calculated to be dangerous, eleanor thinks. i'm afraid she wasn't as cordial to the boy as she might have been, and probably lost me a couple of good macdonald votes." monteith looked enlightened. "why, i must apologise," he said, "but i did not dream i was transgressing. miss herbert surely knows that they have been like brother and sister since their baby days?" "oh, that's just the trouble. eleanor's scared they're not going to remain like brother and sister. she and your minister's wife down there have got it into their busy heads that the little monkey's inclined to think too much about this old chum of hers. bluebell's the right sort, i assure you, archie, never forgets an old friend. harold's just the same. every time he writes he sends his love to every old codger that chopped down a tree on this place. it's a fine quality. it's irish. we get it from my mother's side, though i'm more english than irish myself, praise the lord. well, it seems this loyalty is out of place in this case, and eleanor thinks the less belle sees of this young man the better. all perfect bosh and unthinkable nonsense, you know; but you can never account for the mental workings of some people. a woman's mind picks up an idea, particularly if it concerns matrimony in the remotest degree, as a hen does a piece of bread, and runs squawking all round this earthly barnyard advertising the matter until she convinces herself and all the rest of the human fowl that she's got a whole baking in her bill. eleanor has snatched up some such notion about isabel and this young macdonald, and the youngster hardly out of short dresses yet! but there it is. she'll never let go. all rubbish!" he burst into a hearty laugh, and poked the fire until it crackled and roared. "now, archie, what sort of figure do you think i shall cut running for parliament next fall? think the oa 'll run me off the face of the earth?" "just one moment, captain, before you leave this subject, and we'll talk politics all day afterwards. far be it from me to even glance into the dark mysteries of matchmaking, but i'd like to know why miss herbert should object so strongly to my young friend on so short an acquaintance?" captain herbert looked surprised. he drew himself up with a slight access of dignity. "oh, come now, monteith!" he exclaimed, "you are surely worldly wise enough to understand that, though this young scotty may be the most exemplary inhabitant of that excellent section where you teach, he would scarcely be a match for my niece." "i understand perfectly. and if ralph were one of the ordinary young men of the place i should most heartily agree with you. but you don't know him. he is an exceptionally fine fellow; he has had as much education as i have been able to guide him to since i came here, and indeed he is a thorough gentleman at heart." captain herbert shrugged his shoulders. "i suppose that's all true, but what difference does that make? you don't want me to offer him my niece, i hope." monteith paid no attention to such frivolity. he turned squarely upon his host. "then i suppose you know he's the equal in birth to anyone in this part of the country. you know, of course, that his name is not really macdonald?" captain herbert seized the poker and attacked the fire again. he seemed waiting for monteith to proceed, but as he did not, he answered rather shortly, "so i believe." there was a long silence. the host sat back again, swung one foot over the other impatiently, and at last turned upon his silent companion. "go on!" he cried. "out with it! i know what you want to say!" monteith slowly turned his eyes from the fire and looked into his host's face. "i don't want to say anything disagreeable, captain," he said courteously. captain herbert arose and walked to the window. "i knew this would come some day, when i saw you were getting so infernally chummy with all the macdonald clan. that dear friend of mine, old firebrand malcolm, has been telling you tales, i see." "on the contrary, he has scarcely ever mentioned your name to me. big malcolm is not that sort," said monteith, with some dignity. "but it was impossible for me not to remember ralph stanwell, senior; it all came to me the moment the boy told me his name." there was a moment of intense silence, and at last the man turned from the window. "well," he said, coming to the fireside, "why don't you speak? what have you got to say about it?" his manner was half-defiant. "i don't know that you'll think it's my place to say anything, captain. but--well, since you ask my opinion, i must confess that, though i am not in possession of all the facts, the thing does not look exactly--straight." captain herbert glared at him. "you are the only man in ontario who would dare to say that to me, archibald monteith!" he cried. monteith arose, smiling. "well, captain, be thankful you have at least one honest friend in ontario. and," he added, with a sudden change of tone, "look here, i haven't come to you about this in anger. i am ralph's friend, but i am yours, too, and have many debts of kindness owing you. but, honestly now, is it or is it not true that you jumped a claim and appropriated the boy's property, perhaps unwittingly?" "it was unwittingly, archie," burst out the other, with a look of relief. "i know the affair must look nasty to you; but, as sure as i stand here, i didn't know the child was alive until he was nearly seven years old." "but the grandfather? did he never interfere in the child's interests?" "that old fire-eater! if he hadn't been such a maniac, i should never have made the mistake i did. i tell you the whole thing was misrepresented to me. stanwell and his wife and, as i was told, his child too, died just before i landed here. this property of his was partially cleared, but was represented to me as totally unclaimed. you know that as well as i do. don't you remember the day i left toronto to come up here? well, after i had spent hundreds of dollars on the place that old lord of the isles got wind of it away back there in the bush, and came down on me like a deposed king. he talked so loud and so fast, and half of it in gaelic, that i paid no attention to him, and at last ordered him off the place. my brother harold had been instrumental in getting the place for me, so i wrote him and asked if it was possible that anyone connected with captain stanwell could have any claim on my property. he wrote back to say that stanwell and everyone belonging to him were dead, but that he would come up soon and see about it. well, you know he died the next week, and little bluebell was left to me. those were hard times for me, archie, as you know. maud was taken next, and i was left alone with two helpless children on my hands and my finances in the very deuce of a state. i forgot all about everything but the troubles that had come upon me. then i sent for eleanor to look after my family, and after she came i had other reasons you know nothing about for keeping silent concerning captain stanwell. and so the years slipped away, and there it is, you see. if i had given up the property when i settled here first i should have been almost destitute. now, i ask you, is there any living man could blame me?" monteith answered warily. "there are not many men who would have acted differently in your place, i fear, only--it's rather hard on the boy." "pshaw, i don't believe the boy's claim was worth a brass farthing. if it was, why couldn't his old grandfather have gone to law about it?" monteith shook his head. "you don't know those highlanders; they would sooner be bereft of every stick or stone they possess than enter a law court. besides, you can't deny, captain, that even had big malcolm wished to take such measures, he well knew that in those days a man of his class hadn't much chance against one of yours." captain herbert tramped up and down the little room. monteith sat silent, waiting. he was able to guess with some degree of accuracy the workings of his friend's mind. captain herbert was a man who believed in letting circumstances take care of themselves, particularly if they were of the disagreeable variety; but he would willingly do no man a wrong; and monteith well knew that his warm heart was a prey to regret, and he was therefore full of hope for ralph. but the captain had a stormy journey to traverse before arriving at any conclusion. "if the matter were taken into a law court now, no fool would say for a moment that i wasn't the owner of this place after all these years. it was a howling wilderness when i came here." "but a court might say you were under some obligation to that boy, captain." "nonsense! do you want me to present him with a deed of all my property?" "not at all, but i want you to act fairly by him, as i am sure you will." the steady tramp ceased at last, and as monteith had expected his host came and stood before the fire. "it's a mean business, the whole thing, i know, archie; and i've hated the thought of it all these years. but what could i do? it was too late to mend matters when i found my mistake." "it's never too late to mend," quoted the imperturbable guest. "and you're comfortably well off now, captain, with that last legacy." captain herbert evidently did not hear him. "i'm sorry about that boy," he said, staring into the grate with brows knit, "i'm truly sorry." monteith felt that now was his opportunity, and he put scotty's case forward strongly. he was careful not to press the boy's legal claims, but made much of the moral obligation. here was a young man with marked ability and no worldly resources, his high ambitions fettered by poverty. he had already spent two winters in the lumber camps; he was getting to be a famous river pilot, and, as matters stood, there seemed nothing better ahead of him. ralph was a youth who would probably make his way in the world somehow, but just now he needed a helping hand. a little assistance at present would make his fortune, and who so fitted to give that assistance as captain herbert? the appeal was received in silence. captain herbert sat, his brows drawn together, his eyes fixed upon the fire. "there's another reason, stronger than any you suspect for my sister's antipathy for the young man," he said suddenly without looking up. monteith's eyebrows rose. "it is a very unpleasant subject to refer to, but it seems necessary that you should know. when captain stanwell came to this country he was engaged to marry my sister. he came out here, presumably to make a home for her. a pretty face among the emigrants took his fancy, and he married shortly after he landed. so you may imagine i am not likely to have any warm feeling for the rascal's son." monteith sat staring. he had come to represent scotty's righteous cause, to uphold him as the wronged, and here were the tables turned upon him. "all these years, eleanor never dreamed that the child lived. indeed, i am not sure that she knew stanwell had a child, and of course she never guessed who little bluebell's scotty was. and i naturally didn't see any reason for enlightening her. she nearly discovered it once, the first time i saw the boy. but when he brought bluebell here she saw the resemblance at once--he's the image of his father--she asked him his name, and it all came out, and you can imagine the scene. she sent him off, and ordered the youngster never to speak to him again, and the poor little monkey's been fairly sick over it. there couldn't possibly be anything between them, but she liked him; they were chums. now don't you see how difficult it is for me to show him any kindness, even if i wanted to? and i'm sure i don't owe his scoundrel father much consideration, anyway." the ambassador had nothing to say. scotty's chances for redress were very poor. he looked into the fire in deep disappointment. monteith was not a religious man, but at that moment he remembered vaguely a passage from the bible about the fathers having eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth being set on edge. but for all his talk, captain herbert had not settled the affair to his own satisfaction. he was blustering up and down the room again, trying to work off his indignation against fate. he paused once more in front of his visitor. "i tell you what, archie," he cried for the fifth time, "i hate the whole business. it's been grinding at me for nearly fifteen years. i've got a son of my own about that boy's age. his mother died when he was a baby, and he's everything to me; and when i think that if i had been taken too, he might have fared badly,--well--it's--- look here, what kind of ability has young stanwell?" monteith gasped. "he's as bright as a steel trap; all brains." "well,"--the captain was thoughtful--"what does he want?" "he wants a chance to earn some money in a hurry so that he can go to college. he's determined to get an education, but the money isn't forthcoming." "well, if i should see him through----" monteith shook his head smilingly. "he wouldn't accept it. you must remember, the boy has the real old highland pride. no, give him some position where he can earn some money, or think he is earning it, in a short time." "you're a jew at a bargain, archie monteith, and a scotch jew, at that, which is the worst kind. what sort of aptitude would he have for figures?" "he seems to display a special aptitude for almost anything he undertakes." "well,--i might,--pshaw, why not? eleanor needn't know. there's raye & hemming. they want a young man in their office. it means a responsible position, though, archie, with good pay, and i'm depending entirely upon your recommendation. he ought to know something about lumber surely." "raye & hemming!" monteith started. "i'd be delighted to see the boy get such a good opportunity, but the name of that particular lumber company isn't absolutely synonymous with fair-dealing. remember, ralph's been very strictly brought up, captain." "pshaw, they're supposed to muddle a little with politics, but what's the difference? if your paragon is so squeamish you'd better keep him in the bush. i can't think of anything else i could do for him half so good. those fellows are sharp, i'll admit, but they know how to make money." monteith considered for a moment, then stood up and held out his hand. "i knew you would do the square thing, captain," he said heartily. "well, to be honest, i confess i'm not entirely disinterested. that young carruthers the grits are bringing out will be sure to rake up this story if i run next fall; and those macdonalds are double-dyed grits already. i don't want to give them a handle against me. young stanwell will make a better friend than an enemy. i can clear my tender conscience and get him out of the road, and save myself a great deal of future trouble all in one stroke. so there you are, you see." monteith laughed. there was something irresistible about the candour of the man. "he certainly is an irishman all through," was the scotchman's mental comment. "and by the way, archie, does he know anything about this?" "not a word. big malcolm never told anybody, i fancy. that's a gentleman for you!" captain herbert looked slightly embarrassed. "i suppose you'd better tell the boy--everything?" "i think it would be better. he's very fair-minded, and, besides," monteith smiled, "he is not likely to feel any resentment against miss isabel's uncle." "that brings up a very important item in our bargain," said the captain frowningly, "and one upon which everything depends." "yes?" "he'll have to understand that there's to be nothing between him and bluebell. it seems absurd to talk about such a thing already, but eleanor seems certain of danger. so you'll have to put the matter plainly to the young man, and explain that if he's so much as caught speaking to her, his position is gone as quick as a gunshot. i owe that much to my sister. she couldn't stand the sight of him, and neither of the youngsters is old enough to be hurt." monteith looked dubious, but he did not hesitate to comply. ralph would soon forget when he got away into the world, he told himself, and miss herbert would probably make the keeping of the bargain very easy for him. "and now," cried captain herbert, rising with an expression of relief, "that's over. it's been an abominable tangle all through, a perfect mess, with everyone in the family mixed up in it, and it's a relief to have it settled. come along, let's go out and breathe some fresh air and look at the dogs!" xiii the voice in the wilderness out of the strife of conflict, out of the nightmare wild, thou bringest me, spent and broken, like the life of a little child. like the spume of a far-spent wave, or a wreck cast up from the sea, out of the pride of being, my soul returns to thee. --william wilfred campbell. raye & hemming, managers of that branch of the great lake lumber company that had its headquarters in the town of barbay, soon learned that their new clerk was a young man of no mean parts. for beside an unusual ability, young stanwell brought to his work that tenacity of purpose and tendency to unremitting toil which is the product of the farm. scotty found himself treated with every consideration by his chiefs. captain herbert's protã©gã© was evidently a person of some importance, and he guessed that his generous salary was largely due to his patron's influence. though his feelings towards his benefactor were naturally somewhat mixed, since hearing how he had defrauded him of his birthright, nevertheless scotty could find small room in his heart for any ill-will against isabel's uncle. he had ill-used him, no doubt, but he was making reparation, and what more could any man do? and, indeed, scotty's affairs were turning out so much better than his fondest hopes had pictured, that he could not wish the past different. a few years with raye & hemming, he felt assured, would open the golden gates of college to him, and there he would vindicate himself. for the young man was in happy ignorance of the fact that his present good fortune depended upon his separation from isabel. monteith had not seen fit to apprise him of that item in captain herbert's bargain. the shrewd schoolmaster had a suspicion that the foolish young man might throw up his hopeful prospects in a fit of romantic gallantry, and determined to run no risks until all danger was past. so the boy did not know how hopeless was the love he and his golden-haired sweetheart had pledged beneath the pines at kirsty's gate. miss herbert strongly objected to him, he knew, but she could be overcome in time. they must be separated for a time, but captain herbert was his friend, surely, and isabel--well, he was certain of her, anyway--isabel would never forget, for had she not promised that she would think of him always, no matter how far apart they might be, and how could anyone doubt isabel? his life in the town was beneficial in many ways. socially he learned as much as he did in the office of raye & hemming, knowledge which he knew would stand him in good stead when that longed-for day would come when he would be permitted to visit isabel in her home. he was received in barbay society in spite of his rural training, for was he not captain herbert's friend, and the only son of that dashing captain stanwell whom the best people knew in the early days. and was there not the chance that he might be a young man of property some day? and so, though isabel and home were far away, scotty worked away blithely, determined to show captain herbert that he was worthy of the trust reposed in him, and resolved to win in spite of all odds. but as he grew more accustomed to the business, and more intimate with the inner workings of raye & hemming's office, there slowly spread over his rosy hopes a shadow of misgiving. he found it impossible to shut his eyes to the fact that the men with whom he was employed, and from whom he was to learn, were adepts at many of the small, sharp practices which he had been taught to despise. scotty had been brought up with no hazy ideas of right and wrong. though big malcolm had left the boy's training almost entirely to his wife, still, as much by example as precept, he had instilled into his grandson's very soul a proud contempt for anything resembling a lie. any form of deceit, sharp dealing or trickery came under one despised category, and within scotty's earliest memory had been looked upon by all his household with supreme scorn. and now in his new environment he found himself a daily witness of a dozen little petty transactions such as he had been taught to loathe. sometimes, when he was compelled to assist in the sharp tricks of his employers and received afterwards their laughing congratulations upon his success, he turned away from them with a feeling of nausea. he tried to picture his grandfather in similar circumstances, but could not. well he knew big malcolm would not stoop from his lofty height to touch the business of raye & hemming with his finger-tips. and yet they were not absolutely dishonest; perhaps this was only what the world considered being "sharp" in business, he argued. but he could not quite convince himself, and in his perplexity hinted at his troubles in a letter to monteith. the schoolmaster's answer did not succeed in putting his mind at rest. "i know those fellows have the name of doing some slippery things," he wrote, "and personally i wish you had hit upon men who had a better reputation, but there's no denying they know how to make money, and the shareholders are naturally rather fond of them. you must just learn to shut your eyes to little things that don't exactly suit you and go ahead. your chance in life depends upon your ability to please those fellows. don't lose it, my boy, it means everything." scotty was rather bewildered by this advice, coming from one whom he had long regarded as an infallible authority. in his backwoods simplicity he felt himself at sea. was there, then, a different code of honour in the country from that which was adhered to in the town? not since the days when granny had had to chide him for childish naughtiness had he been greatly troubled over the vexed question of right and wrong. looking back now, he could see that he had been hedged about by what he chose to call circumstances. first there had been the influences of that home beneath the silver maple, and the strong, gentle control of his grandmother. and when his high spirits had been in danger of taking him beyond the "borderland dim," monteith had come, and there had been no more trouble. monteith's training had been quite different from that which he had received at home. the schoolmaster despised as a fool anyone who did not walk the straight and narrow path. wrong-doing was idiotic, he declared; it didn't "pay." but monteith's creed did not hold here. it did pay, as far as scotty could see. and here he was with no hedging circumstances to keep him in the right path, standing at the parting of the ways. and yet he did not for a moment consider the possibility of drawing back. there was too much at stake. as monteith had said, everything depended upon his faithfully filling his post. to lose the favour of raye & hemming meant to lose everything he had set his heart upon, captain herbert's friendship, his education, isabel herself. no, he could not dream of giving up. and so he took monteith's advice and went forward doggedly. but all the enjoyment in his new work was soon gone, his happy, sanguine days gradually changed to a season of worry and humiliation; until he sometimes longed with all his soul to fling all the unclean business aside, take an axe and go back to the bush. he struggled on through the winter, morose and plodding, until the spring came with scented breezes and the songs of birds calling him to come away. barbay was situated picturesquely on an arm of lake simcoe. from the office window he could catch enchanting glimpses of sapphire lake and emerald hill, and he was seized with an intense longing to return to his outdoor life. if he could only get back to his old environment for even a day, he felt he could readjust his ideas and see things more clearly. the 24th of may, the birthday of the good queen, brought him the longed-for holiday. the office claimed him for a few hours in the morning, but early in the afternoon he hired a canoe, and, supplied with a gun and rod, a blanket and plenty of bread and meat, he paddled away into the blue expanse. he would go on until he came to the forest, he determined, and there he would camp for the night. his spirits rose like a freed bird as, with long, steady strokes, hour after hour, he glided smoothly up the low, green shore. he was some distance from any human habitation when the steady dip, dip of his paddle echoed farther inland than usual. he paused and peered into the woods. he was on the edge of a forest whose tangled fringe of birch and elm hung over the greening water. but just behind this fringe was a little clearing, all smothered in riotous undergrowth. scotty ran his canoe up on the sandy beach, her bow sweeping aside the drooping elm branches, and leaped ashore. he plunged into the little tangled circle of undergrowth, and at the first sight gave a boyish whoop of delight. in the centre of the space, facing the water, stood an old log shanty, a temporary structure erected in the lumbering days. it contained bunks filled with straw. here was the very place to spend the night; it seemed waiting for him. he set to work to make camp with the skill of a lifelong practice. a splendid black bass that responded hungrily to his bait made a fine addition to his larder. he soon had a merry fire in front of the cabin, sending a blue column of smoke straight into the treetops, and when it burned down to a bed of coals he cooked his fish. supper was soon over, the canoe stowed safely high up on the shore, and he had nothing to do but enjoy the silence and peace of the wild, lonely spot. he built up his fire again, partly because the may night was cool and partly to keep off the mosquitoes, and stretched himself full length upon the ground before it. it was the first time in months that he had been absolutely at peace. around him was the encircling forest, which bulked largely in his earliest memories, and always gave him the sensation of being at home. the sweet pungent odour of burning evergreens filled the air, mingling with the scents of the forest. above the dark ring of wild, luxuriant growth the sky shone a clear transparent crystal, with faint illusive suggestions of rose and orange, for out there in the wide world the sun was setting, and lake simcoe glinted between the tree trunks flushed and smiling. the little breeze of the afternoon had died away, and not a leaf stirred; only where the subsiding waves disturbed the shells and pebbles on the beach could be heard a soft whispering rustle. but as the night fell, from the darkening forest there arose the evening chorus of the birds. each tall pine tree, silhouetted sharply against the crystal sky, was soon ringing with the transporting vespers of the veery. away back on a hill, far above the little clearing, a whip-poor-will stationed himself in a treetop to complain over and over of the darkness and loneliness of the world. just at scotty's right hand, from behind a screen of scented basswood, came a sudden discordant sound, the rasping "meyow" of the cat-bird; a moment's silence followed and then arose a burst of delirious, bubbling melody, as though the naughty songster, hidden within his aromatic curtains, were laughing impudently at having deceived his hearers into thinking he was only a cat. a loon arose with a splash from the reedy shore of an island opposite and sailed away through the amber air; his wild, derisive laugh echoed back from the glimmering sunset bay where he had joined his comrades. far above, the "scree-ak, scree-ak" of the night-hawks whirling in the heavens echoed away into the green depths; up the long dark aisles came the sweet "hoo, hoo" of the owl, and the clear ringing notes of the whitethroat "calling across the dusk." the frogs, down by the whispering water's edge, joined their chorus to the night music; and on every side, keeping at a respectful distance from the smoke of the fire, the mosquitoes "all in a wailful choir" uttered their little, thin, doleful tunes. and always, far up in the dark pinetops, like bells in a cathedral tower, rang out the clear, enchanting, metallic notes; the long liquid carol of the veery. scotty drew a great sigh of content; he was home again. the magic spirit of the woods, with its sense of peace and freedom, enfolded his very soul. those things of earth, the sordid meannesses of his everyday life, faded away; they were as far removed as that diamond star he was watching twinkling on the sharp peak of a dark fir. he lay on his back, his hands clasped beneath his head, and gazed up into the tender blue of heaven until the night began to deepen. the crackling embers of the fire slowly smouldered down, the chorus in the treetops began to subside. gradually a great stillness settled over the velvet darkness of the woods, and still lying motionless and content he could hear only the soft stir of a leaf or the occasional "hush, hush!" that the waters and the shells whispered, as though they were telling each other that the world was going to sleep. scotty forgot his bed in the shanty, a soft balsam limb made a fragrant pillow, and mother earth was the best couch. his senses floated away. he was at home, lying under the silver maple; the sound of granny's spinning-wheel came drowsily through the doorway. the pathway across the swamp to kirsty's clearing was blue with violets; a white figure was flitting down it,--coming to him with the sunshine on her golden hair and the violets at her feet. suddenly he was wide awake; not startled, but with all his keen, woodsman senses alert. instinctively he reached for his gun. something strange in his surroundings had aroused him, he knew. what was it? he lay listening intently. and then out of the depths of the darkness came the answer,--a sound, dim and far off, but echoing melodiously through the leafy arches, a voice as of an angel, singing: "the lord thee keeps, the lord thy shade on thy right hand doth stay: the moon by night thee shall not smite, nor yet the sun by day." scotty raised himself upon his elbow; the sound of the old psalm, coming without warning out of the uninhabited darkness, struck him with awe. had the forest taken voice, or was it all but a part of his dream? he listened breathlessly until the psalm was finished and the silence had again fallen. there seemed something too sweetly mysterious about the singing to come from a human source. there was an intense silence for a few moments, then the voice rose again, this time nearer and more distinct, "the lord's my shepherd, i'll not want, he makes me down to lie in pastures green, he leadeth me the quiet waters by." scotty was overwhelmed with a sudden rush of memory. he was reminded of that day so long ago when the awesome shadows of the winter woods had terrified him with the first conception of death, and sent him with unerring instinct to the true refuge. who could be wandering in this wild, lonely place at night singing,--singing the very things calculated to touch the depths of his soul? the sound was coming nearer, growing in power, as though the singer felt the sublime confidence of the words. "yea, though i walk through death's dark vale, yet will i fear no ill, for thou art with me and thy rod and staff me comfort still." and then scotty recognised the voice. it was one which, once heard, was not easily forgotten. it belonged to the great preacher, mr. mcalpine, the man who years before had come to the glen, and with his message from the eternal roused the place to a better life. but he was an old man now, and retired from his labours, and how came he to be wandering in this trackless wilderness after nightfall? the voice had ceased, and now the sound of footsteps in the crackling underbrush could be heard. scotty could discern a dim figure coming towards his fire. he stood up as it approached. the old man with his long white beard, his bare silver head, for he carried his hat reverently, his tall, gaunt figure and piercing eye gave the young man the impression of one of the great men of bible times, isaiah, or that one who preached in the wilderness beyond jordan and called to his hearers to make straight the paths for the coming of the messiah. with the mutual feeling of friendship that arises between men in the lonely places of the earth, the two met with outstretched hands. a smile of pleasure at the open face and fine physique of his unexpected host flashed over the old man's face. "big malcolm macdonald's grandson!" he cried, when scotty had introduced himself. "oh, yes, indeed, i know big malcolm well,"--he shook the young man's hand once more: "ah yes, it was his eldest son's funeral that first took me to the oa. god moves in a mysterious way, indeed. and you were but a child then, and now you are a man. and it is a good thing to be standing upon the threshold of life, is it not?" a good thing? scotty would have given a most emphatic affirmative in response some months before, but now he was doubtful. "yes," he said hesitatingly, "in some ways. but how do you happen to be away back here alone, mr. mcalpine?" the minister explained his presence. he had been asked to go to barbay to assist with the sacrament on the following sabbath, and had intended to spend the night with a friend and take the stage out in the morning. "but i could not wait," he concluded, "i was constrained to come on." there was that strange gleam in his eye which had always so filled scotty with awe in his childhood. the young man understood. mr. mcalpine's burning restlessness, his erratic way of making arrangements to be driven to certain places, and then suddenly setting out in the dead of night to walk prodigious distances had been the wondering talk of the oa since he was a child. for this man carried a burden of souls that gave him no rest day or night, and that even now, when he was broken and aged, sometimes drove him to stupendous labour. "but you will surely stay here to-night!" cried scotty, feeling in the capacity of host even in this wild tangle of forest growth. "i am camping, but there is plenty of room in the shanty, and i can cook you some supper." the old man accepted the hospitality gratefully. he appeared worn and exhausted, and seemed to have suddenly lost his restless energy, as though the spur which had driven him forth in the night had been removed. scotty made a comfortable seat for him of cedar boughs placed against a large tree trunk, and stirred up the fire to a blaze. its rays danced forth, lighting up the worn face and white hair of the old man seated before it, and the strong frame of the young one standing erect in splendid contrast. the light made the log walls of the old shanty stand forth, touched here and there the fantastic heaps of dead brushwood and misshapen stumps, illumined the underside of the adjacent trees and danced away down the dim avenues to be lost among the ghostly shadows. and while his host prepared supper, the minister beguiled the time by asking after all his friends in the oa and the glen, especially the highlanders, for mr. mcalpine was not above possessing a little weakness for anyone who spoke the gaelic. and then he must know what the young man was doing, and how he came to be there. scotty answered his questions in the distantly respectful manner that all the glenoro youth had been wont to show this man. he explained his sudden excursion to the woods as merely a natural desire to be out of doors. he told something too of his life with raye & hemming in barbay, but he had all the reticence of his class and kin, and the minister learned little from what he said. and while they conversed the elder man was watching the younger with the keen eye of a detective. for to old john mcalpine every soul with whom he came in contact was a burden to be carried until it was laid safely at the foot of the cross, and he was yearning to know if this young man, so respectful and kindly of manner, had yet had his heart touched by divine love. he tried to read the dark, young face in the light of the dancing flames, noting every feature--the intellectual brow, the kind, bright eyes, the mouth, still boyish, and showing some wilfulness and impatience of rule; the resolute chin. a good face, the man concluded, with rare possibilities. but he was convinced before the conversation closed that its owner was not a follower of the meek and lowly one. for the minister was a marvellous reader of character, and in spite of scotty's reserve, before the evening was gone he had allowed his guest to discover that he intended to carve out his own destiny as he desired, fearless of consequences. when everything was in readiness for the night, and the young man had returned from making up a second bed in the shanty, the minister drew up close to the fire and took from his pocket a bible. he slowly turned over the leaves, praying earnestly that he might be guided in his choice to something that would touch this young man's soul. the 139th psalm caught his eye, and the deep voice slowly and solemnly read: "o lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thoughts afar off.... whither shall i go from thy spirit? or whither shall i flee from thy presence? if i ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if i make my bed in hell, behold thou art there. if i take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead me and thy right hand shall hold me. if i say, surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me." leaning back against a fallen tree trunk, his face partially hidden in shadow, scotty listened intently. had this man been sent out of the darkness of the forest to show him how foolhardy were his attempts to escape from god? for had he not been saying to himself all these past months that surely the darkness of secrecy would cover his wrongdoing; that somehow he would escape from god. he had not read the bible since he left home, and the old familiar words, coming like a long-lost friend, struck him with their inevitable truth. his rest in the lap of nature had brought him to himself; he saw things with a clearer vision, and he realised now that the fierce yearning to be away which had driven him to the forest had been really the desire to escape the eye that never sleeps. the longing to take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea had been upon him, and here god's messenger had met him, and he stood like a hunted animal at bay. the minister read on without pause almost to the end, and then stopped. there were two more verses, scotty well knew; he and isabel had learned that psalm years ago at granny's knee. "search me, o god, and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts; and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." he looked up half-inquiringly as the voice ceased. the minister smiled comprehendingly. "i see you know what follows," he said; "it is a great thing to be grounded in the scriptures in youth. do you know why i stopped?" "no," said scotty, in a whisper. "because the next is a verse i hardly dare to read. it is a fearful thing to ask the almighty god to search the heart, for there are wicked ways in us, many and deep." he began slowly turning over the leaves again, and scotty waited with a strange dread of what was coming. the passage was from the challenging words that came to job out of the whirlwind, and like a whirlwind they swept over the young man's soul. "who is this that darkeneth counsel, by words without knowledge? gird up now thy loins, like a man, for i will demand of thee, and answer thou me." he paused a moment and his listener held his breath. to him the words did not seem to be spoken by man, but seemed to come out of the whispering darkness of the great forest. "where wast thou when i laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.... whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the cornerstone thereof; when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of god shouted for joy?" scotty's heart suddenly swelled. this great jehovah was speaking directly to him; the jehovah whose inexorable laws were written in man's very being, as well as in his book. and he, his creature, was about to set them aside, declaring that he would walk as seemed right in his own eyes. but the minister was still reading. "hast thou commanded the morning since thy days; and caused the day-spring to know his place?... have the gates of death been opened unto thee? or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?... canst thou bind the sweet influences of the pleiades, or loose the bands of orion?" scotty listened with heart and ears, and when the minister came at last to job's confession, he felt he could echo the words, "i have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee. wherefore i abhor myself and repent in dust and ashes." the amber column of smoke rising straight to the circle of sky was suddenly touched with a silver radiance. up from behind the dark island the moon had arisen, radiant and burnished, and was sending a long shimmering pathway across the deep blue of lake simcoe. scotty's eyes followed its glint between the tree trunks and the words came over him again, "now mine eye seeth thee." but when the minister paused he came back to realities. another picture rose before him, the sweet face of the girl he loved, the one whom he was to win by keeping in the path wherein he now walked. a look of defiance flitted across his face. no. he would go on. he could never give up now! but the leaves had rustled again, and now the minister had resumed his word pictures. this time they were not of the mighty jehovah, just, unapproachable, omnipotent; but of the lonely man of nazareth standing by the lakeside and calling the fishermen to him, and then on to calvary when he said, "father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." the elder man's keen eyes saw the tokens of a conflict in the other's face, and he was too wise to address him directly. his occasional remarks had the effect of soliloquies, but they plunged scotty's soul in the valley of shadows. he was thinking how all his life he had been compassed about. he knew now that what he had called hedging circumstances had been god's very hand. his grandmother's faithful teachings had guided his careless boyish feet; his grandfather's falls from the high position he had set himself were graphic object-lessons to teach the value of righteousness; monteith's influence had kept him in the right way, and now how dared he turn aside of his own will? but what was the minister reading now? what but the story of a young man, one so goodly and commendable in person and character that the master had regarded him with an especial feeling of comradeship; but there was one thing he refused to give up, and he turned his back upon the saviour of mankind and went away sorrowful, "for his possessions were very great." and scotty's possessions were great also--those he was about to reach out and seize, infinitely beyond the value of gold and silver, and he wanted to turn away, too, but something held him. the minister glanced at the young man's face, and knew his heart had been touched. he closed the book. "let us pray," he said, and rising, knelt by the side of a moss-grown log. but scotty did not kneel; he sat erect, staring with desperate eyes into the fire, and striving with all the force of his will to harden his heart. to his relief the old man made no remark upon his strange conduct when he arose from his knees, but at once went to his bed in the shanty. some subtle instinct told him the young man would be better alone. long after he had retired scotty walked up and down before the fire, fighting out the old, weary battle; but now with a fury as if for life. to go on with his work at raye & hemming's now in the light of what had come to him this night would be, he knew, to cast aside all the teachings of his lifetime--the teachings of granny, of experience, yes, even of monteith, for he realised now they had all come from god, and were one. he was down in the valley of the shadows, and the rod and staff were of no comfort to him, for they meant pain and renunciation. he could not give up captain herbert's friendship and isabel; he could not go on. the fire had died down to a red eye looking sullenly out of the smoky darkness, the moon had sunk behind the forest ring, and out of the blackness of night came a sensation of approaching change, a hint that the dawn was near. as scotty, pale and haggard, stood looking into the dying fire, a step aroused him and the minister was by his side. "why, sir," he cried in surprise, "you will surely not be getting up yet. it is quite dark." "i was not sleeping," said the old man. "i could not but watch you," he added gently, "for i cannot but see you are carrying a burden; one heavy for your time of life, my lad, and i wondered if i could be of any help." all scotty's mental attitude of defiance melted away before this gentle sympathy. he was silent, simply through the inability to speak, and the minister continued, "do not speak of it if you would rather not. i would not force your confidence, but just come and we will pray about it, and you will tell the father and he will be making it right." scotty turned with a gesture of defeat. to pray was the last thing he desired to do, it meant surrender; but this time he knelt obediently at the minister's side by the dying fire. and as he bowed his head he was suddenly startled by the words that broke forth. it seemed as if all his own soul's struggle had been transferred to the man at his side. old john mcalpine had a wondrous gift of prayer, one that never failed to cast a solemn spell over his hearers, and to-night he pleaded for the soul of this young man as if for his life. his big hands were knotted, the perspiration stood in beads on his white forehead, and his agonised voice rose and went ringing away into the forest. scotty was awesomely reminded of one who prayed in a garden, quite unlike this one of nature's wild making, and sweat drops of blood because of the sin he was to bear. and before the minister had ceased it seemed as if that other one came to his side and took up the petition, for scotty felt his worldly desires slip from him like a garment. the struggle was over. henceforth there could be no indecision, for he was not his own, but had been bought with a price. when they arose from their knees the darkness had suddenly become transparent. a mysterious rustle and whisper of awakening life was on all sides, the dawn was on the point of breaking. scotty's fire, like his worldly hopes, had died down to pale ashes, but far out on the faintly grey bosom of lake simcoe, and away beyond its dark forest-ring, soon to put all lesser lights to shame in their triumphant blaze, were kindling the fires of heaven. xiv the voyageurs oh, the east is but the west, with the sun a little hotter; and the pine becomes a palm by the dark egyptian water; and the nile's like many a stream we know that fills its brimming cup; we'll think it is the ottawa as we track the batteaux up! pull, pull, pull! as we track the batteaux up! it's easy shooting homeward when we're at the top. --william wye smith. the imperial transport, _ocean king_, had loosed from her moorings at montreal and was swinging down with the tide of the mighty st. lawrence, and on her deck, many leaning eagerly over the railing to get a last glimpse of home, stood some four hundred stalwart sons of the maple land. great, strong fellows they were, all with the iron muscles and steady, clear eyes of the expert riverman. for these were the famous voyageurs, trained from childhood on the rapids and cataracts of canadian streams and summoned now to the help of the mother country on the ancient river of egypt. when lord wolseley found himself face to face with the tremendous task of reaching gordon far up the hostile nile, he remembered the assistance he had received in an earlier expedition in a western land from the daring, untiring, cool-headed, warm-hearted canadian boatmen. and he asked that once more they might give him aid. and here they were, the best the country could produce, a rollicking, light-hearted crew, ready for anything--adventure, hard work, danger, death. among those who stood longest gazing at the receding land were two who had begun their years of apprenticeship for this great day on the little, noisy, foaming stream that scolded its way into the oro river. and one of them, looking at the fast-fading outline of mount royal, saw instead an old log house among the enfolding ontario hills, with a silver maple spreading its protecting branches above the roof. his home!--and the dear home faces, how they rose up from the misty shore; and another face, the most beautiful in the world, as he had seen it that winter night in the sunset glow! and he had left all, had turned his back upon friends and home, and love itself, for what? a mere sentiment? a mad notion born of that night in the wilderness the spring before? the man who had been his guide and instructor, his staunchest friend and truest adviser from boyhood, had called his new impulse by just such a name, and the loss of his esteem had been one of the bitterest drops in scotty's cup of renunciation. apparently he had done injury to himself in every quarter, by giving up his connection with raye & hemming. captain herbert had been disgusted and had declared he washed his hands of him, monteith had been filled with righteous indignation over such blind folly, and his grandparents had been keenly disappointed. and isabel? that was the hardest part. what would isabel think? perhaps she, too, was offended, and he had had no opportunity to vindicate himself. and yet, through disappointments, estrangements and doubts, he clung tenaciously to his purpose. he was done forever with raye & hemming, and no power on earth could drive him back. before he left barbay, monteith had come down upon him to bring him to a more reasonable state of mind. the schoolmaster had scolded, entreated, and had even brought up arguments which scotty was powerless to combat. in his perplexity and bewilderment he could answer nothing; only there had come vividly to his mind the reply of another young man in somewhat similar circumstances; a young man, who, when clever people argued that the man who had opened his eyes was at fault, could only say, "one thing i know, that, whereas i was blind, now i see." for that night in the wilderness had given this young man a clearer vision of right and wrong, the keen perception granted to those only who have passed by calvary and seen the one who suffered there and conquered. and in that uplifting moment he had heard the voice of the eternal say, "this is the way, walk ye in it"; and he could not but obey. so scotty had turned his back upon all his worldly prospects, because they had led from the way of integrity; and early in the summer had gone to seek employment amongst the lumbering centres of the ottawa. and away back there he had been tracked and joined by his faithful henchman, dan murphy. this strange freak on scotty's part had no effect on danny's warm heart. what cared he that his chum preferred working in the bush to a college education? that mattered little, so long as they were together. for had scotty turned mohammedan and gone forth to convert the world to his beliefs, not one inch would his friend's loyalty have swerved. and, while they worked on the upper ottawa, the call for the nile voyageurs had come. here was an opportunity to see the world and serve the empire, and the boys had gladly embraced it. and so scotty was going down into egypt, because the great controller of destiny had need of him there, as he had long before needed another young man in that same land to perfect his divine plans. the canadians commenced active work at a station on the nile a few miles from wady halfa. the busy little trains, that came puffing up from cairo, landed this latest addition to britain's forces amid all the bustle and stir of the departing army. here the naval detachment of the river column was preparing to embark. the steel-keeled whaleboats, the especial care of the voyageurs, were being fitted up with masts and oars. as soon as ready they were filled with soldiers or dongolese boatmen, the canadian bowman and helmsman took their places, and out they shot up the swift, brown current. scotty and his chum found that their turn to embark was not likely to come for some time, and they employed their first day of leisure in looking about them. to their unaccustomed western eyes the place presented endless interest. it was full of the noise and display of a military camp, and alive with potent signs of war. trains loaded with ammunition went puffing out; bands of baggage-mules, driven by scantily-dressed natives, came down to the water's edge to drink; and stately camels swayed past. now and then a detachment of a regiment swung out desertward, whether on hostile acts intent or for exercise, only the initiated could tell. the boys stood watching them with absorbed interest. first came the coldstream guards, then the grenadiers, and finally the black watch stepping out splendidly to the rousing scream of the pipers. scotty had been taking in all the sights calmly, but this last was too much for his highland blood; and, in spite of dan's jeers, he leaped to his feet with a cheer, as they whirled past. but even such spectacles as these began to pall. the canadians soon discovered that an army is an unwieldy monster, and that even a flying column moves slowly. when the third day came and they still awaited their call to the boats, dan became restless. this period of enforced idleness acted upon him like firewater upon a wild indian, and his friend soon had his hands full keeping him from disaster. on the last afternoon of their waiting scotty composed himself under a gum acacia tree near the river to write home. they expected to go at any moment and he must leave a last message for granny. with the aid of an old box for a writing desk and the battered lid of a tin can for an inkbottle he managed his task fairly well. the sun was blazing down on rock and sand and river, but the breeze from the north blew up cool and grateful, reminding him of the june zephyrs that came up from lake oro to stir the boughs of the silver maple. near him, stretched full length upon the ground, lay dan, striving to be as cross as his light-hearted irish spirits would permit. scotty had just a moment before forcibly rescued him from a row with some idle, poker-playing tommies, and the wild irishman felt small gratitude towards his preserver. he rolled about restlessly, pronouncing serio-comic denunciations upon everything in egypt from lord wolseley to the baggage-mules, and informing his inexorable keeper at short intervals, that if something didn't hurry up and happen, glory be, but he'd commit high treason--a crime of which dan had only the vaguest notion, but one which he imagined immeasureably transcended all other forms of iniquity. scotty paid no attention to these threats; he finished his letter, packed his writing materials into his kit bag, and stood up to stretch his limbs. over near the officers' quarters a couple of tommies were making strenuous efforts to hold down a reluctant and evil-minded camel long enough to permit a fat and pompous colonel to mount. "that brute must be some relation to you, dan," said scotty laughingly, "he seems to have got up a mighty objection to everything in the way of common sense." dan did not reply; he had raised himself upon his elbow and was listening eagerly to something else. his attention had been caught by the conversation of a couple of officers who were coming up from the water-side. one was a young army subaltern, fresh from home, very innocent and well-meaning, but belonging to that class of youth who, because of a serene consciousness of vast inward resources, is certain to fall a prey to circumstances. his companion was slightly older, a young officer of the naval brigade under lord beresford. he was squarely-set, with a frank, good-humoured face. the subaltern was evidently showing his newly-arrived friend the sights. "those are the american indians we've brought out to pilot the boats," he explained, with a nod in the direction of a group of french canadians standing at the boat-slip; "rather a fine looking lot o' beggars, aren't they?" his companion laughed. "indians be hanged!" he exclaimed merrily. "more than half those fellows are no more indians than you are. jove, it does a fellow's eyes good to see something from home. i'm going to have a chat with them." "pshaw, you don't expect to find friends there, i hope. 'pon honour, they're red indians, every one of them. wolseley got 'em. and harcourt says they're the aboriginal thing." "your colonel's an insular baa-lamb, bobby; you can bet wolseley never said it. surely, as i was born and brought up in canada i'm likely to know a red indian from myself now, am i not?" the subaltern looked annoyed. "i think you're mistaken this time," he said with some dignity; "perhaps an odd one or so may be white, but the majority are the real thing. look at that big fellow there, now. i'll bet two to one he's a full blood, anyway." the other glanced at the man indicated. scotty's face and arms, always brown, had become almost copper-coloured in even his short exposure to the egyptian sun, and his lithe, muscular figure, leaning easily against the tree, was not unlike that of the stalwart caughnawagas from the st. lawrence, but as the young naval officer looked at him he laughed derisively. "done with you," he cried gaily. "go and ask him." the subaltern marched up promptly to the voyageur. "i say, canadian," he said somewhat stiffly, "here's a gentleman who says you're not an indian. just tell him politely that he's mistaken, please." scotty turned from his contemplation of the camel to find, to his surprise, that he was being addressed. but before he could reply, dan had forestalled him. that young man, whose red hair and hibernian features could have left no doubt even in the subaltern's mind as to his nationality, had been listening, with huge enjoyment, to the conversation. he had risen to his feet and was saluting with grave respect. "sure it's yourself that's right, sir," he said with an apologetic air. "anybody can see he's an indian. he belongs to one of our worst tribes--the blood-drinkers, they call themselves. his name's big scalper. and sure," he added, lowering his voice fearfully, "it's the bloodthirsty brute he is, an' no mistake!" the young naval officer came forward and gazed fixedly into the speaker's meek and innocent countenance, but could detect there no smallest sign of deceit. the subaltern looked solemn. "is that all true he's telling us, big scalper?" he asked dubiously. "sure, there's no use talkin' to him, sir," broke in dan, with patient surprise; "he can't spake a word but his own outlandish jabber. the cratur was jist runnin' wild in the bush when colonel denison caught him an' brought him out here." the young man's air of kindly anxiety, mingled with innocent seriousness, was too much for mortal gravity. big scalper turned his back with strange suddenness and stared fixedly out upon the hot, grey glint of the river. a little group of idle canadians had begun to gravitate towards them. dan murphy had already earned a reputation among them as a source of entertainment, and was particularly interesting whenever anyone evinced a desire to learn anything of his native land. the officers were wont to question the voyageurs, and dan played upon their ignorance of the western half of their empire, which was deep enough to begin with, and made it abysmal. "i told you," cried the subaltern triumphantly. "i've won my bet, old fellow!" "strange how he's going to pilot a boat-load of men up the river without the use of the english language," suggested the young naval officer, with a slightly sarcastic drawl. "aw, ye don't know him," cried mr. murphy in a tone expressive of fear, "he'll find a way to make them mind or he'll bash all their heads in. sure, he's the divil himself, sir. jist look at the wicked eye o' him now, will ye?" this was going too far for safety, and big scalper turned upon his loquacious showman. he was too much an artist to spoil the play by proclaiming it a sham, so he spoke a few rapid words in gaelic. the murphy's knowledge of that language was naturally limited, but there was never a boy in glenoro school, be his nationality what it might, who did not pick up much of the war-vocabulary of the fighting macdonalds, and dan had no difficulty in gathering from scotty's remark that he was being strongly advised to immediately shut his mouth. "what's he sayin'?" inquired the subaltern interestedly. dan's face was a study in pained and polite anxiety. "i'm askin' yer pardon, sir," he said nervously, "but i think it would be safer if ye wouldn't be lookin' at him anny longer. he's askin' me which o' yer scalps i think would look best danglin' from his belt!" there was a shout of long-suppressed laughter from the on-looking canadians, and the young officer's face flamed up angrily. "i shall report you for this insolence!" he cried, suddenly awakening to his ignominious position. but his friend caught his arm and drew him away. "come out of this, bob!" he cried in a choking voice. "you'll report nothing! you'd better not monkey with those fellows. that young irish ruffian was improvising as he went along. and i'm awfully sorry, bobby dear, but i'm afraid i've won my bet," he added, allowing his laughter to overcome him, "because--because--oh, holy maria, hold me up, i'm going to die!--because big scalper speaks a language that's amazingly like the stuff the pipers of the black watch jabber to one another!" as scotty moved down to the landing he gave his tormentor a good-humoured shaking. "it's lots of fun, i know, dan; but you'd better keep that long, irish tongue of yours still before the officers, or you'll get into trouble. i don't know what that fellow's going to do." "be jabers, it would be worth pickin' oakum for a year jist to take down his blamed consate. did ye iver see such a banty rooster as the young wasp was? the little sailor chap wasn't half bad. and, say, scot, did ye hear him say he was a canadian or from canady, or somethin' like that? it accounts for his good manners." "who, the bluejacket?" scotty looked with interest after the young man's retreating form. there was something in his trim, straight figure that somehow seemed familiar. "what's his name, i wonder?" he began, when a peremptory order interrupted. "stanwell, into number 150!" cried the sharp voice of the overseer, and scotty sprang into the stern of the boat and was off for his first battle with the cataracts of the nile. xv the secret of the nile o mystic nile! thy secret yields before us; thy most ancient dreams are mixed with far canadian fields and murmur of canadian streams. --c. d. g. roberts. the awe-inspiring designation which dan had bestowed upon his friend was not readily dropped. the canadians seized and used it joyfully. others who heard the name and were not aware of the joke in which it originated supposed that the bearer of it was really an indian chief, about whose bloody prowess they were ready to believe any tales which the ingenious mr. murphy might invent. and so, for the remainder of the voyage, scotty was known throughout the column as big scalper, the fiercest indian from the canadian wilds. but in the days that followed dan found few opportunities for indulging his reckless humour, for soon the army was moving forward rapidly and the boatmen were in the midst of stupendous toil. the river column had been bidden to make haste. gordon was shut up in khartoum waiting his rescuers, and no one must rest. on they went, day after day, past dreary stretches of sand, broken only by an occasional and equally dreary dom palm; past barren ledges of rock, deserted mud villages and ruined temples; battling madly with a rapid, only to find when it was overcome that another lay ahead; toiling strenuously to catch up with the enemy, only to see at nightfall their spearheads disappearing over the last brown ridge of sand hills. scotty felt himself becoming a machine, something that did the day's work mechanically. to toil all day in the bow or stern of a boat in the scorching heat of the pitiless sun, or walk over blistering rock and dazzling sand; to sleep at night inside a square of good british bayonets, chilled by the numbing wind from the north; to rise at the bugle-call and go at it again--that was the unvarying programme. cataract and sand plain succeeded cataract and sand plain with such deadly monotony, that all sense of time, place, and progress was blotted out. they seemed stationary in an endless desert, toiling against an endless river, always moving but never advancing. he often wondered, as he watched the brown, turbid water racing down to meet him, what secret the mysterious nile held for him. what would be its bearing upon his life? but he always ended his questionings with the assurance that whatever the outcome might be, even though he should never see it, it was controlled by a higher power, and he was content. and through all the hardships and stress of the work, the struggle with the rapids, the hunger and privations, the new life which had been implanted in scotty's heart was his greatest stay. many a time in the face of temptation he blessed the saintly old woman far away in the canadian backwoods for the godly training he had received beneath the silver maple. he found he needed all his strength in this new, wild life; for a more gaily-gallant, reckless, devil-may-care crew than the canadian voyageurs, who fought and overcame the ancient nile, surely never wielded paddles. his chief trial was his own faithful follower, for dan murphy strove to out-canadian the wildest river-driver of the ottawa valley. and had scotty's strong hand not been often placed upon the unsteady tiller of his friend's life, there might have been a sadder wreck among the nile voyageurs than has been set down in history. his vigilant oversight of dan's conduct did not prevent him distinguishing himself in quite a unique way. ever since he had left cairo that young man's one hope in life had been to participate in a battle. there came a day, later, when he and scotty worked side by side on the blood-stained rocks of the desert, helping to remove the dead and wounded; when they saw their general's body lowered into its lonely grave, and witnessed the hundred harrowing sights of a battlefield; and then and there, much of the boyish glamour of battle faded before the horrible reality. but that time had not yet come; and, like napoleon, dan was convinced that war was a grand game. so when the reluctant enemy at last massed itself upon the rocky ledges of kirbekan to delay the column, and the joyful news spread through the impatient army that at last they were to meet the foe, none was so eager for the fray as dan. in spite of scotty's admonitions, he went to one of his officers to beg permission to join the advance the next morning. the request was promptly refused, and the volunteer bidden with scant ceremony to go back to his boat and mind his own business. but mr. murphy was convinced that his business lay with the front rank of the advancing column. he had not been trained to army discipline and was not minded to lose the glorious chance of participating in a real battle for such a trifling consideration as one man's opinion. so in the grey dawn of the morning, when the troops marched out over sand and barren rock, there went with them a man who had neither the uniform nor the dogged stride of the rank and file. but he made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in military precision; for, having appropriated the arms and accoutrements of the first man who fell, he rushed to the front, and was right in the van of the victorious charge that swept the enemy from their rocky stronghold. dan murphy was the hero of the canadian voyageurs for the remainder of the journey. when the six months' term for which they had signed had expired, and he and scotty resolved to go on to the end, there were many who remained with the column because the former chose to act as an independent recruiting officer. if he was going to khartoum, then they would follow, for where murphy was there must surely be some fun. but the end of the journey came sooner than was expected. a little above kirbekan general brackenbury received the tragic news of the fall of khartoum and the martyred gordon's death. just a few days earlier, just a little more haste, and the gallant heart that had looked bravely into the face of despair for so many weary weeks, still patient, still hoping, might have seen the answer to his prayers! but the succors were too late by less than a week. gordon was murdered, khartoum was fallen, and at huella the baffled column received orders to return. if the toil of descending the nile was not equal to that experienced in the ascent, the skill and vigilance required of the pilots was even greater. only a few days' journey had been completed when the column halted at the head of a long series of cataracts. here the dongolese boatmen had been put to their utmost strength to haul up the boats through the boiling, writhing channel, and the question was, could any boat go down it and live? general brackenbury gave orders that none but the canadians should be entrusted with the descent; so, early in the morning, the voyageurs walked down the stream to survey it. they pronounced the channel bad, but not impossible, while one old st. lawrence pilot sniffed contemptuously and declared that the lachine would make this puddle look "seek." but the nile cataract was bad enough, as scotty realised, when he found himself among the first called to go down. dan was his bowman and the stroke oar was a hardy old scotch sergeant. upon both of these he could rely with certainty. nevertheless, as he steered out into the middle of the river, he realised that they had good need of all their courage and resource. on an overhanging rock above him stood the commander with some of his staff, anxiously watching the experiment. the shore was lined with soldiers, as though they had come to witness a boat-race. scotty had a fleeting glimpse of them as he raced past, and then his boat was caught in the swift current and shot forward with lightning speed. the men bent to their oars with all the might of their brawny arms, to give their helmsman more power, dan stood in the bow, alert and tense, his paddle ready, and scotty held the tiller in an iron grip. the channel curved sharply to right and left; at the quickest turns great rocks stood in mid-stream over which the angry waters boiled and roared. at many points an instant's hesitation on his own part, scotty well knew, or a second's relaxation of dan's vigilance, would hurl boat and crew to destruction. they were in it now, dashing through a blinding rain of spray, leaping, turning, dodging, twisting, as though the boat were a living creature pursued. down they shot through the boiling zig-zag current, now avoiding great, jagged rocks by a hair's-breadth, now bounding like a deer over a smooth incline, now plunging into a seething white billow; and, when at last they swept round into the quiet bay at the foot of the cataract, dan leaped up, and waving his paddle on high uttered a wild war-whoop learned long ago in the swamps of the oro. there was an answering cheer from the group of men waiting at the landing. "well done, big scalper!" cried the foreman. a young naval officer who had just ridden down from the head of the rapid turned quickly at the words. "what, big scalper, is that you?" he cried as the pilots stepped from the boat. "how is it you're not hanged yet?" scotty glanced up and encountered a laughing glance from the speaker's merry eyes. he recognised the young man whom dan had vainly tried to befool, away back at the beginning of the voyage. he was prevented from replying by a word from the officer in command. as the voyageurs were few and the boats many they had to walk back to the head of the cataract as soon as one descent was accomplished and prepare for another. their commander was bidding them make haste, and, when scotty turned to leave the landing, the young man had disappeared. he was vaguely disappointed. there was something very attractive in his good-humoured familiarity, so different from the manner of the ordinary under officers. when the long day's labour was over and the darkness prevented the descent of any more boats, the canadians received orders to return to the upper camp to be in readiness for the morning's work. dan had been required for steering early in the day, and had been separated from his friend, so scotty found himself upon the rocky path leading to the head of the cataract quite alone. dan had promised to join him, but when dan was in the company of the voyageurs there was generally sufficient cause for delay. scotty walked on slowly, glad to be alone for a few moments after the tremendous toil of the day; the desert was quiet, and acted upon his spirits as did the deep, fragrant swamps at home. the sun had set and the desert, which had glowed golden in the blistering sun all day, now lay grey and ghostly in the moonlight. away ahead stood the ruins of an ancient temple overgrown with dusty mimosa bushes. the whispering nile, brown and gleaming in the daytime, ran swiftly past, touched to silver by the moon that hung in the great empty space overhead. the breeze from the north was cool; the night was quiet and restful. he strolled along easily, looking back occasionally for signs of his comrades; a solitary figure in the barren desert. the toil over rocks and rapids of the last few months, though it had hardened his physique and left him in superb health, had played havoc with his clothes; and he was so disreputable and tattered a figure, that he smiled to himself, as he pictured granny's distress could she have seen him. he reached a turn in the rocky path and stopped to listen for sounds of those who were to follow. the breeze from the north brought faintly the music of the old french canadian song that had so often enlivened alike the toil of the shantymen on the ottawa and the pilots on the nile. "en roulant, ma boule roulant, en roulant, ma boule." the boys were coming, then; he seated himself upon a rock to await them. the sound died away for a moment, only the dry rustle of the mimosa bushes disturbed the silence. he seemed absolutely alone in the world, until from a break in the rocks to his right a camel emerged with its stately, undulating stride. it bore an officer presumably riding down to the foot of the cataract. the long, fantastic shadow moved across the grey sand. scotty could hear the rider's voice urging the animal forward. as they came out into the open, the two figures were silhouetted against the pale sky; a splendid mark for a prowling dervish, he reflected. as if in answer to his thought there came the sudden crack of a rifle from the direction of the ruined temple. the figure of the rider lurched over, and, with a leap, the animal had thrown him and was off desertward. there was a fiendish yell from the mimosa bushes. three or four dark forms rose like magic from their shadows, their spears glinting in the moonlight as they leaped forward. the wounded man lay between his assailants and scotty, somewhat nearer the latter. as it was scotty reached him first. the man was lying on the sand. he had his revolver in his hand and was striving desperately to raise himself into a position to shoot. scotty dragged him into a sheltering nook between two ledges of rock, snatched the weapon from his hand, and crouching down sent a bullet spinning out to meet the advancing rush. the dervishes halted; the revolver spoke again; there was a howl as a man fell. scotty felt a moment's inner exultation in that steady aim he had never lost since the days he and dan shot chipmunks behind the schoolhouse. but the yell had been answered by another farther from the river; three more glinting spearheads suddenly appeared from the dark expanse beyond, and came hurtling towards him. he poured the remaining chambers of his revolver into the mad charge; but, when the last was gone, the enemy were still leaping forward. he threw down the weapon and looked about swiftly. the wounded man had a sword at his side. scotty grasped it and the same instant the yelling savages were upon him. there was no use trying to take cover now. he stood erect and struck out madly. he was dimly surprised when the first man went down before him. he swung his weapon fiercely, with no thought of aim; but he was as agile as even these wild sons of the desert and his arm had the strength of ten. it could not last long, he knew, and he fought with the energy of despair. there was a strange roaring in his cars, as though he were in the midst of the cataract again, something warm was streaming down his face and obscuring his vision; he struck out blindly, desperately. but now another sound arose, even above the roaring in scotty's head, the sound of a familiar voice; a shout from down the river. scotty's heart leaped; he uttered a strange, weird yell--"oro, oro, woo-hoo!" it was the long, fierce battle-cry of glenoro school. if dan were in egypt that would bring him, he knew! "oro! oro!" came the answer; and like a sandstorm across the desert came the company of voyageurs, dan at their head, uttering the blood-curdling war-whoop with which he had so often awakened the echoes of the canadian swamps. the fierce-eyed soudanese who had raised his spear to hurl at his opponent hesitated. he must have thought that all general brackenbury's army was upon him. he leaped back with a sharp word of command; one more yell from the advancing column, followed by the crack of a random shot decided him; the dark figures took to their heels, and in the magic way known only to the desert-born, had melted in a moment over the low hills. scotty's head was spinning wildly, and when dan flung himself upon him he sank unsteadily upon the ground. "hello, danny," he tried to say, with his usual calmness, "just on time." dan clutched him by the shoulders and shook him violently; his voice was unsteady. "be jabers, didn't i hear ye bleatin' like a stray lamb, half-a-mile back. how did ye happen to have such luck, ye beggar? aw, the black-hearted brutes has give ye a bang, scotty, boy. hold on to me now, old man, here, an' we'll fix ye up in no time." "the other fellow needs it worse," said scotty, making a motion towards the man at his feet. someone struck a light; the voyageurs raised the wounded man gently. his eyes opened. "are you much hurt?" asked one of the rescuers, bending over him. scotty looked down at him and was conscious of a feeling of glad surprise. it was the young naval officer who had spoken to him that morning. "not much," he gasped pluckily. "it's under my arm here. you were just in the nick of time, canadian." another match was lit to enable the men to see the rough bandages they were trying to adjust. the light flashed up into scotty's face, and the wounded man's eyes brightened. "why, was it you, big scalper?" he asked, with a faint attempt at a smile. "the devil's not so bad as he's painted----" he made an effort to hold out his hand, but before scotty could take it the young man's head fell back and he had fainted in dan's arms. the buzzing in scotty's head grew louder, other sounds became dim and far away. he was vaguely conscious that the boys were binding up his head, hurting him most unnecessarily in the process, and that they were leading him away, away, through the revolving darkness, over an interminable desert. but the next morning saw him in the stern of his boat ready to take the cataract once more. his head was still bandaged and felt rather light, but he did his day's work as usual. and before the next evening he was at the head of the column, far down the nile, without knowing even the name of the man whose life he had saved. and that same day a young naval officer, lying in a hospital boat asked anxiously if he might not see the canadian pilot, known as big scalper, and was informed that the indian of that name had gone on at the front of the column, but that he would see him when they disbanded at korti. but when the voyageurs drew up before the flagstaff to receive the general's farewell, the young officer lay tossing in delirium; and when next he saw his preserver it was not in egyptian bondage, but in the new land of promise. xvi re-voyage "for dere's no place lak our own place, don't care de far you're goin', dat's what the whole worl's sayin', w'enever dey come here, 'cos we got de fines' contree, an' de beeges' reever flowin', an' le bon dieu sen' de sunshine nearly twelve mont' ev'ry year." --william henry drummond. and surely the israelites, on the borders of canaan, felt no more joy than did the two voyageurs when they first sighted the green shores of canada. as they steamed up the st. lawrence dan's delight reached the dangerous stage. he was dying for a fight, and a fight he must have, he declared. and for this purpose he danced about the deck, brandishing his fists, and beseeching everyone within hearing to speak up and say that canady wasn't jist the flower garden of creation, barrin' ould ireland. before he succeeded in getting himself into serious trouble, scotty wisely put the wild irishman down upon the deck and sat on him until the first spasms of the home-coming ecstasy were over. but when the boys reached the little railway station a few miles from glenoro, and saw hamish's kind, brown eyes and old pat murphy's red face beaming a double welcome, there were no noisy demonstrations. for as they drove up through the ever-changing panorama of hill and valley, with the flash of the river and the blue gleam of lakes peeping through the green, scotty had a choking lump in his throat--and even dan was silent. for they were home again, and oro was vocal with the joy of returning spring. the pink-tinted buds were everywhere bursting into green, the marsh marigolds lit the dark borders of the swamp with their little golden lamps, the hepaticas and trilliums spangled the dun-coloured carpet of the woods; just the same, scotty thought, as in the happy days when he and isabel scampered among them. the air was deliciously laden with the exhilarating scents of the young green earth, the bluebirds flashed from bough to bough of the elm trees, and the robins, how they sang! dan declared the little spalpeens knew he was home, for what else would make them bust their foolish little throats wid shoutin'? his quiet mood did not last long. the canadian air was getting into his blood again. a sudden whirr and flash, where a host of red-winged blackbirds arose in a cloud from the road, proved too much for him. he leaped from the buggy, yelling like a madman, and for the rest of the journey was quite beyond the limits of reason. he sat in the vehicle only on rare occasions, and spent his time scrambling over fences, tearing into the woods and back again, chasing squirrels and whooping like an indian, until his father privately questioned scotty as to the effect of the egyptian sun on the brain. scotty sat beside hamish, laughing helplessly at poor old dan's madness, and in his quieter way revelling just as much in all the dear familiar sights. he was feeling how good it was to be a son of the north land, to live in this garden of lake and river, forest and meadow, and see it come to life afresh each year, and as they climbed a hill, and he stood up in the old buggy to catch his first glimpse of lake oro he realised solemnly that, though he might be called english, irish, scotch, indian, egyptian, what not, he was altogether and entirely and overwhelmingly canadian. and at the brow of the hill came the murphy homestead, with all the murphys far and near assembled to greet the returned wanderer. scotty and hamish had intended to leave dan at his home and hurry away, but when the hero of the house of murphy was dropped into the arms of the excited crowd, they found leave-taking a difficult enterprise. irish hospitality, especially when transplanted to the land of canadian plenty, is a compelling force. at first scotty's impatience to get home resisted all invitations, and old pat was about to reluctantly allow them to depart, when mrs. murphy, who until now had been weeping loudly on dan's broad shoulder, oblivious to everything but his return, suddenly awoke to the shameful fact that someone was about to leave her doors without stopping to eat. she issued no further invitation, but with her apron still to her eyes and still exclaiming over and over in muffled sobs, that "the darlin' had come back to his mother," she darted into the road; and snatching the horses' bridle, dragged her guests through the gate and up to the door, amid the applause of the assembled flats. and so they had supper in the murphy home perforce, and all the great deeds of their expedition had to be recounted. scotty told how dan had disobeyed orders and run away at the battle of kirbekan; only, like a true irishman, he had run to, not from the fight. but when his friend returned the compliment and launched into an account of the midnight skirmish at the ruined temple, the hero of that event arose hastily, and declared they must be going. there was much for hamish both to tell and hear on the road, so the afternoon was fading into evening when at last they reached the scotch line. they had taken a detour round the glen, for scotty did not want to be delayed by more friends. they passed the weaver's clearing, and hamish declared how jimmie and kirsty were such an agreeable pair as never was, for indeed the two lived in such a state of connubial felicity as was a wonder to all the neighbours. scotty caught a glimpse of the little path through the cedars, the path where he and isabel had walked so often in those magic days succeeding kirsty's wedding. and there was the boiling spring by the roadside where they had so often played, and the pools where they had gathered musk, and yonder in the fence-corner they had built their first house. and then there came a turn in the road and there it was! his old home! it was just the same: the old garden in front with the rose bushes turning green, and the silver maple putting forth its pink buds above the roof! and there was granny at the door, shading her eyes with her hand; and beside her mary sandy, rory's sister-in-law, who was now her help; and grandaddy, who had been pretending to cut wood all afternoon, still holding the axe in his hand; yes, and even old farquhar, bobbing about as excited as any! with the instinct of long custom, scotty jumped from the vehicle to open the gate, but his trembling fingers refused to pull out the pin, and the next moment he had cleared the bars in one mighty spring, leaving hamish, helpless with laughter, to shift for himself. before the gate was open he had charged up the hill like a whirlwind and caught granny off her feet. and then such a time as there was with talking and hand-shaking and laughter and tears, for even mary sandy took to crying out of sympathy with her mistress, and scotty himself had some work to keep his eyes dry. and no one could hear a word anyone else said, for as the long-absent one crossed the threshold, old farquhar burst into loud and joyous song. and what could do justice to the great occasion but "the grave of highland mary"? the old man's voice was strong with excitement, and he drowned both the noise of joyful greeting and the din of the barking dogs as he shouted triumphantly,- "then bring me the sigh of a fond lover's bosom and bring me the tear of a fond lover's e'e, and i'll pour them a' doon on thy grave, highland may-ay-re, for the sake o' thy bur-urns who sae dearly loved thee!" when the excitement had slightly subsided they had to sit down and partake of such a supper as had never before been set out in that house; for granny would not listen to such foolish nonsense as that they had eaten at murphy's. she sat beside her boy, never touching her own food, but heaping his plate, clapping him upon the back and showering upon him all the endearing epithets she knew in a language that is famous for them. big malcolm sat close to him on the other side, his old warlike spirit aroused, as his boy told his story. scotty softened the hardships for his grandmother's ears and said nothing of his own encounter in the desert. he was graphically describing the manoeuvres of the highlanders at kirbekan, much to his grandfather's delectation; when, as if to give point to his narrative, there suddenly arose from the direction of the road a splendid roar of pipes; and behold here came rory driving up the lane in a wagon, his whole family aboard; and he himself, forgetful of his dignity as the father of the family, standing up in the wagon and blowing up a tremendous pibroch on fiddlin' archie's sandy's bagpipes! scotty flung out of doors to meet him and had scarcely time for a greeting when they sighted weaver jimmie and kirsty hurrying up the path from the bush. then a shout from the hill behind the barn attracted everyone's attention, and long lauchie's whole household appeared trooping down the slope; long lauchie himself plodding joyfully at the tail of the procession, full of bewildering prophecies and analogies, in which there was something about lake simcoe's being the red sea, and the oa, mount pisgah. it was well that mary sandy merited her mistress's oft-repeated declaration that she was "jist the smartest, tidiest girl in the oa, indeed." the multitude had to be fed, in accordance with the laws of canadian hospitality, which alter not, no matter what the circumstances may be, and without kirsty's and mary lauchie's help even mrs. macdonald's paragon might have found herself inadequate. big malcolm and his wife were quite helpless with excess of happiness. the latter moved about in a happy daze, making ineffectual efforts to assist her friends, picking up articles and putting them down again in a haphazard fashion. at last kirsty declared that they must all clear out and let her do some work. yes, and mrs. malcolm was to go too, for how could she be of any use with a big gomeril like scotty clattering after her every step, as if he was a bairn, and mostly with big malcolm and rory's wee callum trailing behind. it was enough to put a body fair daft. thus banished, scotty laughingly followed his grandmother out of doors. he was well pleased, for he was longing to get a word with her alone. he knew that her tender eyes had long ago read his heart's secret, and if she had any news for him she would surely give it without asking. there was a new stone milk-house a few yards from the door, built since his departure; and he must needs see it, granny said. so she took him with her when she went for a jug of buttermilk for the guests. and when he had admired the place and the buttermilk had been procured, they stood in the cool, sweet dampness, and granny told him how all the friends had asked for him so often. the minister, indeed, came up several times just to inquire if they had had a letter, and store thompson's wife had said that whenever the captain himself came to the glen he always asked for him. then she went to the farther end of the little chamber and commenced a diligent search for something that was not there, and, with her back turned to him, remarked with elaborate carelessness that the captain's family were expected at the grange any day now. the captain had been away nearly all the time since he lost the election, he had been that disappointed, poor body. they had spent the last winter in toronto. the wee isabel hadn't been jist very well all winter, kirsty had said, and the aunt had wanted to take her to the seashore, but she had said that nothing but the oro air would do her any good, and kirsty was expecting her some of these days. scotty drew a deep breath. she was coming back then! she would be at the grange, she might even come to kirsty's! and then kirsty herself darted in and snatched the pitcher of buttermilk from granny's hands and disappeared as quickly. neither of them noticed her, for scotty was in a rosy but hopeless dream, and granny was patting him lovingly upon the arm in expression of the sympathy she dared not speak. there was silence for a moment, the old woman still caressing him tenderly. "eh, it would be the lord would be bringing you back to me, _m' eudail bheg_," she said at last. "he would be good to malcolm and me in our old age, for you would jist be our benjamin, whatever. and has it been well with granny's boy all this weary time?" she added in a whisper. scotty put his hands upon her shoulders and looked long into her loving eyes. "granny," he whispered, "do you remember the first day i went to school, and how i came through the swamp alone on the way home." "eh, the wee man it was! and how would i be forgetting, indeed, for it would be the first time you would be leaving me!" "and do you remember what i found a comfort then? the swamp was so lonely it frightened me, and i thought it must be like the valley of the shadow of death; so i said over the shepherd's psalm, because you had taught it to me and i knew it must be good, and i wasn't afraid any more. and now i've been away from you again, granny, in the valley of the shadow of death, yes, and worse than death often, but--the rod and the staff were always with me." the tears were running down the old wrinkled face, happy tears, for granny had feared often for her boy; not so much the temporal ills; the arrow that flieth by day was not to her so dangerous as the "secret fear." but her fears had been happily disappointed, he had had the great keeper with him, and one more joy was added to her deep content. the celebration at big malcolm's lasted half the night, and before it had ended scotty found he had yet one more draught to drink from his cup of happiness. the assembly was sitting round him breathless as he related the many incidents of his journey, when weaver jimmie, who was sitting in the doorway to allow his feet to hang in the greater freedom of outdoors, suddenly interrupted with an exclamation, "losh keep us, is yon the schoolmaster come back?" scotty came to the doorway with a spring and met the outstretched hands of his friend. monteith had heard the boys were expected and had journeyed all the way from barbay, where he now resided, to bid his pupil welcome. scotty was speechless over this last greeting, for in the long warm handshake of his old friend there was not the smallest hint of a past estrangement. xvii the promised land love and hope and truth and duty guide the upward striving soul, still evolving higher beauty as the ages onward roll. --agnes maule machar. the next day scotty found that he was not yet through with his lionising. with the morning sun up came dan from the flats with the news that "the boys" were to meet at store thompson's that evening, and they must both go down and show themselves. at first scotty was for refusing, but his grandfather decided for him. big malcolm, who was no better at dissembling than his wife, suddenly remembered that he had urgent reasons for going into the glen that evening and promised that he would bring his grandson with him. so there was nothing for scotty to do, as monteith, who was still with him, explained, but to be a real lion and roar properly. granny made them an early tea and, the schoolmaster accompanying them, they drove off in the old buckboard. on the way big malcolm regaled the two exiles with tales of the great events that had transpired since their absence. the most important one related to store thompson's latest achievement in the philological field. this time he had routed completely young mike murphy. mike had never received anything through the post office in his life, but never a day passed but he poked his head in at the little wicket and demanded in a loud voice, "anythin' for murphy the day?" store thompson had endured the youth's uncouthness with his usual serenity, but one day mike asked twice at the wicket. that was once too often, and store thompson fell back on his reserve forces. "murphy?" he queried. "young man, ye're jist ambeeguous like, aye, ye're jist ambeeguous." mike had never inquired for letters since. he retired in a rage, under the impression that store thompson had called him some insulting name, but, like many another brave man, overawed by the mystery of the unknown. ever since, store thompson had been free from his tormentor and the young man was known between the oa and the flats as "ambiguous mike." big malcolm chuckled audibly and jerked the lines in delight over the remembrance of his old friend's victory. the way seemed very short to scotty, there was so much of interest to see. soon they left the highlands and began to descend into the glen, and he found his eyes growing misty again as they dwelt on the winding white road, the silver curves of the river between the faint green of the hills, and the cosy homesteads nestled in the budding orchards. the place was so little changed in the two years he could almost believe he had never left it. he noticed only one radical difference. pete nash's establishment had disappeared. the tavern had not been able to withstand the united progress of commerce and righteousness; mr. cameron's advent had heralded its downfall, and the toot of the railway train through oro had sounded its death knell. big malcolm had not finished dilating upon the blessing its departure had been to the community, when they reached the post office. a crowd stood collected about it, eager but quiet. they hid their concern in the true rural fashion and stood leaning against every available support with supreme indifference, shoulders high, hands in pockets, caps on one side. store thompson was more ceremonious. before scotty could alight, out he came with hands outstretched in greeting. he had prepared an elaborate speech of welcome, adorned with all the available polysyllables in the dictionary; but, when he saw scotty's familiar face, his eyes shining with the joy of his home-coming, and big malcolm, erect and full of fire as though he had suddenly dropped twenty years of his life, his heart got the better of his head and he could only shake the voyageur's hand again and again and say: "aye, ye're home again. aye, ye've jist come home, like!" and then out bustled store thompson's wife, who was as blithe and brisk as she had been twenty years before, and she had no difficulty in kissing scotty this time, though she had to stand on tip-toe to do it. and at last the crowd flung off its lethargy and one by one came forward in greeting. dan had already arrived and was resplendent amid the whole population of the flats; and not the flats only, for such a cosmopolitan crowd had not been seen in the glen since the old days of the fights. there were all the murphys and the caldwells and, of course, every macdonald from far and near. and hash tucker had brought over a goodly representation of the tenth to do honour to his old schoolmates. scotty had got through only half the hand shakes when the minister came up from the manse to welcome the boys and tell them they had made him proud of canada. scotty found, somewhat to the dismay of his reticent soul, that dan had been spreading abroad the story of his gallant rescue of an english officer against overwhelming odds, and the ovation he received was particularly trying. "it's a pity you couldn't have kept your long, irish tongue still for a day!" he grumbled, and dan laughed and thumped him soundly upon the chest for an ungrateful and stony-hearted old scotchman. the two were standing, the centre of a breathless ring, while dan, with true irish fluency, described the fight at kirbekan, when the sound of rapidly approaching wheels partly diverted the attention of the audience. "eh, yon must be the captain an' his family jist gettin' home," said store thompson, turning away to welcome the new arrivals. for, since the departure of the tavern, store thompson was public host in the glen. scotty heard and felt his heart leap into his mouth. would she be there? the wheels were stopping. "that'll be his son most like, the young man," he heard someone say above the buzzing in his ears. "he's been away in the wars." captain herbert's voice came next, "no, thank you, james, not to-night; we just want to water the horses. but what's all this? you haven't lapsed into the old warlike days in my absence, i hope?" and then scotty shoved dan aside and looked up. yes, there she was, and not at all pale and ill as his heart had feared, but smiling and flushed like a wild rose. and her eyes were looking a welcome straight into his, over the heads of the people; such a welcome as not all the love of his own kin had been able to give. and the next instant a marvellous thing happened, a thing that astounded all the spectators and left them amazed and gaping. for the pale young man at captain herbert's side suddenly leaped to his feet as though he had gone mad. he gave a shout, "_big scalper!_" and the same moment he had cleared the carriage wheels and several people's heads and had flung himself upon scotty and delivered him a blow that sent him staggering back against the verandah. and instead of resenting such outrageous treatment, as any right-minded descendant of the fighting macdonalds should, scotty submitted very meekly. in a laughing, half-ashamed manner he allowed himself to be pounded and shaken, and when his assailant had almost wrung his hands off, even permitted himself to be dragged up to the carriage wheels. "father!" cried the young man, his voice high with excitement, "it's the very fellow himself! it's big scalper!" at that dan murphy uttered a yell that made the topmost pine on the oro banks ring. "it's the english spalpeen!" he roared to the dumbfounded crowd. "it's the cratur scotty pulled out o' the black divils in agypt. oh, hooray!" it seemed as if all the township of oro joined him in one mighty shout. some said afterwards that even store thompson cheered, though most people believed that the excitement of the moment gave birth to that wild rumour. but certain it is that an equally wonderful thing happened, for at the sound of the uproar the minister turned back from the manse gate, and when he was made aware of the cause, he actually waved his hat in the air and made everyone give three more cheers. and such a prodigious handshaking ensued that scotty was almost overcome. captain herbert acted as if he could never let him go; and there was store thompson and the minister and half the crowd to shake hands with again, and it seemed to scotty that every second man was the young egyptian officer, and he found to his amusement that even that absurd dan was greeting him as though they had not met for years! but he was only half-conscious of it all, only half realised what it meant even when miss herbert took both his hands in hers and whispered softly: "god bless you, my boy." for he could see nothing but isabel's face and her blue eyes swimming in happy tears, and felt only her clinging hands as she whispered brokenly: "oh, scotty, isn't it wonderful, wonderful?" and scotty knew that even she did not quite realise just how wonderful it was. then, amid all the expressions of good will, big malcolm stepped forward and held out his hand to captain herbert. it was grasped warmly and the old man felt, with a great uplifting of his spirit, that his last forgiveness was accomplished and his last feud buried. it was very late that night when the company broke up and scotty found himself at home once more. monteith had returned with him, and as he took his leave the young man accompanied him to the gate. "i wanted a chance to tell you, before i go," he said, as they paused in the moonlight, "that you were right, after all, ralph." "in giving up?" asked scotty eagerly. "is it because of what you saw this afternoon?" "no; the reward of a right act doesn't always come so suddenly; but because i have learned something since you went away, something that your grandmother taught me up there under the silver maple. i know now that when a man has once realised what the great sacrifice means he cannot choose his own way." and scotty went up to his old bed in the loft and lay listening to the branches of the silver maple softly caressing the roof, unable to sleep for joy and thankfulness. the days that followed were very busy ones. scotty was often at the grange; not altogether because inclination turned his feet thither, but because there was much business to settle. lieutenant herbert wanted to return soon to england, and he would not leave until his new friend had received due restitution and more. scotty wanted nothing; the look in isabel's eyes was enough, but harold would not listen. no, he must have the grange and all that pertained to it, he declared; for the captain and his sister had long thought of going back to england to end their days. "so," he concluded, "when you are through that college course, which it appears you must take, you and bluebell can settle down here to farming; and good luck go with you, because i don't envy you your lot!" but scotty and isabel cared very little whether they were envied or not. their own happiness was sufficient. and so ralph stanwell came into his inheritance at last, and by the right road, the road of truth and equity, which, though it may often descend by the way of the cross, is sure and straight and leadeth unto life eternal. * * * * * the day before he left to take up his studies in the city, scotty went down to the grange and brought isabel up, ostensibly to spend the day with kirsty, but really because they wanted to say farewell among their old haunts. the girl had spent the afternoon at big malcolm's and as evening fell and scotty prepared to take her home, they went round to the side of the house and sat for a few moments under the silver maple. lake oro was a sea of gems flashing between the dusky points of the fir trees. the hilltops were flushed with rose, the valleys steeped in purple, and the vesper sparrows filled the golden twilight with their music. "scotty," said the girl softly, "i've been reminded all day of the psalm granny malcolm taught us here--'thou hast beset me behind and before and hast laid thine hand upon me!'" and scotty, whose mind held the vivid remembrance of a great temptation, to which he had almost yielded and from which he had been saved that wonderful night in the wilderness, added: "'such knowledge is too wonderful for me. it is high. i cannot attain unto it.'" and a little breeze, dancing up from the golden bosom of lake oro, tossed the green canopy above their heads and showed that every dark emerald leaf had its silver lining. the end file was produced from images generously made available by the canadian institute for historical microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) transcriber's notes: there are several inconsistencies in spelling and punctuation in the original. some corrections have been made for obvious typographical errors; they have been noted individually in the text. all changes made by the transcriber are enumerated in braces, for example {1}; details of corrections and comments are listed at the end of the text. note that many of the errors were introduced in the third edition, as cross-referencing the second edition has shown. in the original, the "mc" in scottish names is given as "m" followed by what looks like a left single quotation mark (unicode 2018). this has been changed to "mc" throughout the text; note that the original also contains a few apparently inconsistent uses of "mac", which have been retained. specific spellings that differ from their modern versions and have been retained in this text are "saskatchawan" (modern "saskatchewan"), "winipeg" (modern "winnipeg"), "esquimaux" (modern "eskimo") and "musquito" (with one instance of "moscheto", modern "mosquito"). text in italics in the original is shown between _underlines_. for this text version, the oe-ligature (unicode 0153) has been rendered as "oe". footnote 14 in chapter iv contains two transliterations, where [=a] represents latin small letter a with macron (unicode 0101) and [=o] stands for latin small letter o with macron (unicode 014d). * * * * * narrative of a journey to the shores of the polar sea, in the years 1819-20-21-22. by john franklin, capt. r.n., f.r.s., m.w.s., and commander of the expedition. published by authority of the right honourable the earl bathurst. third edition. two vols.--vol. i. london: john murray, albemarle-street. mdcccxxiv{1}. london: printed by william clowes, northumberland-court. [illustration: the connected discoveries of captains ross, parry, and franklin in the years 1818, 19, 20, 21, 22 & 23.] to the right honourable the earl bathurst, k.g., one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state, &c. &c. &c. the following narrative of a journey of discovery to the northern coast of america, undertaken by order and under the auspices of his lordship, is by permission, inscribed with great respect and gratitude by the author. contents of the first volume. page introduction ix chapter i. departure from england--transactions at stromness--enter davis' straits--perilous situation on the shore of resolution island--land on the coast of labrador--esquimaux of savage islands--york factory--preparations for the journey into the interior 1 chapter ii. passage up hayes', steel, and hill rivers--cross swampy lake--jack river--knee lake, and magnetic islet--trout river--holy lake{2}--weepinapannis river--windy lake--white fall lake and river--echemamis and sea rivers--play-green lakes--lake winipeg--river saskatchawan--cross, cedar, and pine island lakes--cumberland house 41 chapter iii. dr. richardson's residence at cumberland-house--his account of the cree indians 91 chapter iv. leave cumberland house--mode of travelling in winter--arrival at carlton house--stone indians--visit to a buffalo pound--goitres--departure from carlton house--isle à{3} la crosse--arrival at fort chipewyan 146 chapter v. transactions at fort chipewyan--arrival of dr. richardson and mr. hood--preparations for our journey to the northward 221 chapter vi. mr. hood's journey to the basquiau hill--sojourns with an indian party--his journey to chipewyan 260 chapter vii. departure from chipewyan--difficulties of the various navigation of the rivers and lakes, and of the portages--slave lake and fort providence--scarcity of provisions, and discontent of the canadian voyagers--difficulties with regard to the indian guides--refusal to proceed--visit of observation to the upper part of copper-mine river--return to the winter-quarters of fort enterprise 301 * * * * * _directions to the binder._ vol. i. i. the chart shewing the connected discoveries of captains ross, parry, and franklin, to face the _title-page_. vol. ii. ii. route from york factory } iii. isle à la crosse } to be placed at the end. iv. slave lake } introduction. his majesty's government having determined upon sending an expedition from the shores of hudson's bay by land, to explore the northern coast of america, from the mouth of the copper-mine river to the eastward, i had the honour to be appointed to this service by earl bathurst, on the recommendation of the lords commissioners of the admiralty; who, at the same time, nominated doctor john richardson, a surgeon in the royal navy, mr. george back, and mr. robert hood, two admiralty midshipmen, to be joined with me in the enterprize. my instructions, in substance, informed me that the main object of the expedition was that of determining the latitudes and longitudes of the northern coast of north america, and the trending of that coast from the mouth of the copper-mine river to the eastern extremity of that continent; that it was left for me to determine according to circumstances, whether it might be most advisable to proceed, at once, directly to the northward till i arrived at the sea-coast, and thence westerly towards the copper-mine river; or advance, in the first instance, by the usual route to the mouth of the copper-mine river, and from thence easterly till i should arrive at the eastern extremity of that continent; that, in the adoption of either of these plans, i was to be guided by the advice and information which i should receive from the wintering servants of the hudson's bay company, who would be instructed by their employers to co-operate cordially in the prosecution of the objects of the expedition, and who would provide me with the necessary escort of indians to act as guides, interpreters, game-killers, &c.; and also with such articles of clothing, ammunition, snow-shoes, presents, &c., as should be deemed expedient for me to take. that as another principal object of the expedition was to amend the very defective geography of the northern part of north america, i was to be very careful to ascertain correctly the latitude and longitude of every remarkable spot upon our route, and of all the bays, harbours, rivers, headlands, &c., that might occur along the northern shore of north america. that in proceeding along the coast, i should erect conspicuous marks at places where ships might enter, or to which a boat could be sent; and to deposit information as to the nature of the coast for the use of lieutenant parry. that in the journal of our route, i should register the temperature of the air at least three times in every twenty-four hours; together with the state of the wind and weather, and any other meteorological phenomena. that i should not neglect any opportunity of observing and noting down the dip and variation of the magnetic needle, and the intensity of the magnetic force; and should take particular notice whether any, and what kind or degree of, influence the aurora borealis might appear to exert on the magnetic needle; and to notice whether that phenomenon were attended with any noise; and to make any other observations that might be likely to tend to the further development of its cause, and the laws by which it is governed. mr. back and mr. hood were to assist me in all the observations above-mentioned, and to make drawings of the land, of the natives, and of the various objects of natural history; and, particularly, of such as dr. richardson, who, to his professional duties, was to add that of naturalist, might consider to be most curious and interesting. i was instructed, on my arrival at, or near, the mouth of the copper-mine river, to make every inquiry as to the situation of the spot whence native copper had been brought down by the indians to the hudson's bay establishment, and to visit and explore the place in question; in order that dr. richardson might be enabled to make such observations as might be useful in a commercial point of view, or interesting to the science of mineralogy. from joseph berens, esq., the governor of the hudson's bay company, and the gentlemen of the committee, i received all kinds of assistance and information, communicated in the most friendly manner previous to my leaving england; and i had the gratification of perusing the orders to their agents and servants in north america, containing the fullest directions to promote, by every means, the progress of the expedition. i most cheerfully avail myself of this opportunity of expressing my gratitude to these gentlemen for their personal kindness to myself and the other officers, as well as for the benefits rendered by them to the expedition; and the same sentiment is due towards the gentlemen of the north-west company, both in england and america, more particularly to simon mcgillivray, esq., of london, from whom i received much useful information, and cordial letters of recommendation to the partners and agents of that company, resident on our line of route. a short time before i left london i had the pleasure and advantage of an interview with the late sir alexander mackenzie, who was one of the two persons who had visited the coast we were to explore. he afforded me, in the most open and kind manner, much valuable information and advice. the provisions, instruments, and other articles, of which i had furnished a list, by direction of the lords commissioners of the admiralty, were embarked on board the hudson's bay company's ship prince of wales, appointed by the committee to convey the expedition to york factory, their principal establishment in hudson's bay. it will be seen, in the course of the narrative how much reason i had to be satisfied with, and how great my obligations are to, all the gentlemen who were associated with me in the expedition, whose kindness, good conduct, and cordial co-operation, have made an impression which can never be effaced from my mind. the unfortunate death of mr. hood is the only drawback which i feel from the otherwise unalloyed pleasure of reflecting on that cordial unanimity which at all times prevailed among us in the days of sunshine, and in those of "sickness and sorrow." to dr. richardson, in particular, the exclusive merit is due of whatever collections and observations have been made in the department of natural history; and i am indebted to him in no small degree for his friendly advice and assistance in the preparation of the present narrative. the charts and drawings were made by lieutenant back, and the late lieutenant hood. both these gentlemen cheerfully and ably assisted me in making the observations and in the daily conduct of the expedition. the observations made by mr. hood, on the various phenomena presented by the aurora borealis[1], will, it is presumed, present to the reader some new facts connected with this meteor. mr. back was mostly prevented from turning his attention to objects of science by the many severe duties which were required of him, and which obliged him to travel almost constantly every winter that we passed in america; to his personal exertions, indeed, our final safety is mainly to be attributed. and here i must be permitted to pay the tribute, due to the fidelity, exertion and uniform good conduct in the most trying situations, of john hepburn, an english seaman, and our only attendant, to whom in the latter part of our journey we owe, under divine providence, the preservation of the lives of some of the party. [1] given in the appendix to the quarto edition. i ought, perhaps, to crave the reader's indulgence towards the defective style of this work, which i trust will not be refused when it is considered that mine has been a life of constant employment in my profession from a very early age. i have been prompted to venture upon the task solely by an imperious sense of duty, when called upon to undertake it. in the ensuing narrative the notices of the moral condition of the indians as influenced by the conduct of the traders towards them, refer entirely to the state in which it existed during our progress through the country; but lest i should have been mistaken respecting the views of the hudson's bay company on these points, i gladly embrace the opportunity which a second edition affords me of stating that the junction of the two companies has enabled the directors to put in practice the improvements which i have reason to believe they had long contemplated. they have provided for religious instruction by the appointment of two clergymen of the established church, under whose direction school-masters and mistresses are to be placed at such stations as afford the means of support for the establishment of schools. the offspring of the voyagers and labourers are to be educated chiefly at the expense of the company; and such of the indian children as their parents may wish to send to these schools, are to be instructed, clothed, and maintained at the expense of the church missionary society, which has already allotted a considerable sum for these purposes, and has also sent out teachers who are to act under the superintendence of the rev. mr. west, the principal chaplain of the company. we had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman at york factory, and witnessed with peculiar delight the great benefit which already marked his zealous and judicious conduct. many of the traders, and of the servants of the company, had been induced to marry the women with whom they had cohabited; a material step towards the improvement of the females in that country. mr. west, under the sanction of the directors, has also promoted a subscription for the distribution of the bible in every part of the country where the company's fur trade has extended, and which has met with very general support from the resident chief factors, traders, and clerks. the directors of the company are continuing to reduce the distribution of spirits gradually among the indians, as well as towards their own servants, with a view to the entire disuse of them as soon as this most desirable object can be accomplished. they have likewise issued orders for the cultivation of the ground at each of the posts, by which means the residents will be far less exposed to famine whenever through the scarcity of animals, the sickness of the indians, or any other cause, their supply of meat may fail. it is to be hoped that intentions, so dear to every humane and pious mind, will, through the blessing of god, meet with the utmost success. journey to the shores of the polar sea. * * * * * chapter i. departure from england--transactions at stromness--enter davis' straits--perilous situation on the shore of resolution island--land on the coast of labrador--esquimaux of savage islands--york factory--preparations for the journey into the interior. 1819. may. on sunday, the 23d of may, the whole of our party embarked at gravesend on board the ship prince of wales, belonging to the hudson's bay company, just as she was in the act of getting under weigh, with her consorts the eddystone and wear. the wind being unfavourable, on the ebb tide being finished, the vessels were again anchored; but they weighed in the night and beat down as far as the warp, where they were detained two days by a strong easterly wind. having learned from some of the passengers, who were the trading officers of the company, that the arrival of the ships at either of the establishments in hudson's bay, gives full occupation to all the boatmen in their service, who are required to convey the necessary stores to the different posts in the interior; that it was very probable a sufficient number of men might not be procured from this indispensable duty; and, considering that any delay at york factory would materially retard our future operations, i wrote to the under secretary of state, requesting his permission to provide a few well-qualified steersmen and bowmen, at stromness, to assist our proceedings in the former part of our journey into the interior. _may 30_.--the easterly wind, which had retarded the ship's progress so much, that we had only reached hollesley bay after a week's beating about, changed to w.s.w. soon after that anchorage had been gained. the vessels instantly weighed, and, by carrying all sail, arrived in yarmouth roads at seven p.m.; the pilots were landed, and our course was continued through the anchorage. at midnight, the wind became light and variable, and gradually drew round to the n.w.; and, as the sky indicated unsettled weather, and the wind blew from an unfavourable quarter for ships upon that coast, the commander bore up again for yarmouth, and anchored at eight a.m. this return afforded us, at least, the opportunity of comparing the longitude of yarmouth church, as shewn by our chronometers, with its position as laid down by the ordnance trigonometrical survey; and, it was satisfactory to find, from the small difference in their results, that the chronometers had not experienced any alteration in their rates, in consequence of their being changed from an horizontal position in a room, to that of being carried in the pocket. an untoward circumstance, while at this anchorage, cast a damp on our party at this early period of the voyage. emboldened by the decided appearance of the n.w. sky, several of our officers and passengers ventured on shore for a few hours; but, we had not been long in the town before the wind changed suddenly to s.e., which caused instant motion in the large fleet collected at this anchorage. the commander of our ship intimated his intention of proceeding to sea, by firing guns; and the passengers hastened to embark. mr. back, however, had unfortunately gone upon some business to a house two or three miles distant from yarmouth, along the line of the coast; from whence he expected to be able to observe the first symptoms of moving, which the vessels might make. by some accident, however, he did not make his appearance before the captain was obliged to make sail, that he might get the ships through the intricate passage of the cockle gat before it was dark. fortunately, through the kindness of lieutenant hewit, of the protector, i was enabled to convey a note to our missing companion, desiring him to proceed immediately by the coach to the pentland firth, and from thence across the passage to stromness, which appeared to be the only way of proceeding by which he could rejoin the party. _june 3_.--the wind continuing favourable after leaving yarmouth, about nine this morning we passed the rugged and bold projecting rock, termed johnny groat's house, and soon afterwards duncansby head, and then entered the pentland firth. a pilot came from the main shore of scotland, and steered the ship in safety between the different islands, to the outer anchorage at stromness, though the atmosphere was too dense for distinguishing any of the objects on the land. almost immediately after the ship had anchored, the wind changed to n.w., the rain ceased, and a sight was then first obtained of the neighbouring islands, and of the town of stromness, the latter of which, from this point of view, and at this distance, presented a pleasing appearance. mr. geddes, the agent of the hudson's bay company at this place, undertook to communicate my wish for volunteer boatmen to the different parishes, by a notice on the church-door, which he said was the surest and most direct channel for the conveyance of information to the lower classes in these islands, as they invariably attend divine service there every sunday. he informed me that the kind of men we were in want of would be difficult to procure, on account of the very increased demand for boatmen for the herring fishery, which had recently been established on the shores of these islands; that last year, sixty boats and four hundred men only were employed in this service, whereas now there were three hundred boats and twelve hundred men engaged; and that owing to this unexpected addition to the fishery, he had been unable to provide the number of persons required for the service of the hudson's bay company. this was unpleasant information, as it increased the apprehension of our being detained at york factory the whole winter, if boatmen were not taken from hence. i could not therefore hesitate in requesting mr. geddes to engage eight or ten men well adapted for our service, on such terms as he could procure them, though the secretary of state's permission had not yet reached me. next to a supply of boatmen, our attention was directed towards the procuring of a house conveniently situated for trying the instruments, and examining the rates of the chronometers. mr. geddes kindly offered one of his, which, though in an unfinished state, was readily accepted, being well situated for our purpose, as it was placed on an eminence, had a southern aspect, and was at a sufficient distance from the town to secure us from frequent interruption. another advantage was its proximity to the manse, the residence of the rev. mr. clouston, the worthy and highly respected minister of stromness; whose kind hospitality and the polite attention of his family, the party experienced almost daily during their stay. for three days the weather was unsettled, and few observations could be made, except for the dip of the needle, which was ascertained to be 74° 37' 48", on which occasion a difference of eight degrees and a half was perceived between the observations, when the face of the instrument was changed from the east to the west, the amount being the greatest when it was placed with the face to the west. but, on the 8th, a westerly wind caused a cloudless sky, which enabled us to place the transit instrument in the meridian, and to ascertain the variation of the compass, to be 27° 50' west. the sky becoming cloudy in the afternoon, prevented our obtaining the corresponding observations to those gained in the morning; and the next day an impervious fog obscured the sky until noon. on the evening of this day, we had the gratification of welcoming our absent companion, mr. back. his return to our society was hailed with sincere pleasure by every one, and removed a weight of anxiety from my mind. it appears that he had come down to the beach at caistor, just as the ships were passing by, and had applied to some boatmen to convey him on board, which might have been soon accomplished, but they, discovering the emergency of his case, demanded an exorbitant reward which he was not at the instant prepared to satisfy; and, in consequence, they positively refused to assist him. though he had travelled nine successive days, almost without rest, he could not be prevailed upon to withdraw from the agreeable scene of a ball-room, in which he joined us, until a late hour. on the 10th, the rain having ceased, the observations for ascertaining the dip of the needle were repeated; and the results, compared with the former ones, gave a mean of 74° 33' 20". nearly the same differences were remarked in reversing the face of the instrument as before. an attempt was also made to ascertain the magnetic force, but the wind blew too strong for procuring the observation to any degree of accuracy. the fineness of the following day induced us to set up the different instruments for examination, and to try how nearly the observations made by each of them would agree; but a squall passed over just before noon, accompanied by heavy rain, and the hoped-for favourable opportunity was entirely lost. in the intervals between the observations, and at every opportunity, my companions were occupied in those pursuits to which their attention had been more particularly directed in my instructions. whilst dr. richardson was collecting and examining the various specimens of marine plants, of which these islands furnish an abundant and diversified supply, mr. back and mr. hood took views and sketches of the surrounding scenery, which is extremely picturesque in many parts, and wants only the addition of trees to make it beautiful. the hills present the bold character of rugged sterility, whilst the valleys, at this season, are clothed with luxuriant verdure. it was not till the 14th, that, by appointment, the boatmen were to assemble at the house of mr. geddes, to engage to accompany the expedition. several persons collected, but to my great mortification, i found they were all so strongly possessed with the fearful apprehension, either that great danger would attend the service, or that we should carry them further than they would agree to go, that not a single man would engage with us; some of them, however, said they would consider the subject, and give me an answer on the following day. this indecisive conduct was extremely annoying to me, especially as the next evening was fixed for the departure of the ships. at the appointed time on the following morning, four men only presented themselves, and these, after much hesitation, engaged to accompany the expedition to fort chipewyan, if they should be required so far. the bowmen and steersmen were to receive forty pounds' wages annually, and the middle men thirty-five pounds. they stipulated to be sent back to the orkney islands, free of expense, and to receive their pay until the time of arrival. only these few men could be procured, although our requisition had been sent to almost every island, even as far as the northernmost point of ronaldsha. i was much amused with the extreme caution these men used before they would sign the agreement; they minutely scanned all our intentions, weighed every circumstance, looked narrowly into the plan of our route, and still more circumspectly to the prospect of return. such caution on the part of the northern mariners forms a singular contrast with the ready and thoughtless manner in which an english seaman enters upon any enterprise, however hazardous, without inquiring, or desiring to know where he is going, or what he is going about. the brig harmony, belonging to the moravian missionary society, and bound to their settlement at nain, on the coast of labrador, was lying at anchor. with the view of collecting some esquimaux words and sentences, or gaining any information respecting the manners and habits of that people, doctor richardson and myself paid her a visit. we found the passengers, who were going out as missionaries, extremely disposed to communicate; but as they only spoke the german and esquimaux languages, of which we were ignorant, our conversation was necessarily much confined: by the aid, however, of an esquimaux and german dictionary, some few words were collected, which we considered might be useful. there were on board a very interesting girl, and a young man, who were natives of disco, in old greenland; both of them had fair complexions, rather handsome features, and a lively manner; the former was going to be married to a resident missionary, and the latter to officiate in that character. the commander of the vessel gave me a translation of the gospel of st. john in the esquimaux language, printed by the moravian society in london. _june 16_.--the wind being unfavourable for sailing i went on shore with dr. richardson, and took several lunar observations at the place of our former residence. the result obtained was latitude 58° 56' 56"{4} n.; longitude 3° 17' 55" w.; variation 27° 50' w.; dip of the magnetic needle, 74° 33' 20". in the afternoon the wind changed in a squall some points towards the north, and the prince of wales made the preparatory signal for sea. at three p.m. the ships weighed, an hour too early for the tide; as soon as this served we entered into the passage between hoy and pomona, and had to beat through against a very heavy swell, which the meeting of a weather tide and a strong breeze had occasioned. some dangerous rocks lie near the pomona shore, and on this side also the tide appeared to run with the greatest strength. on clearing the outward projecting points of hoy and pomona, we entered at once into the atlantic, and commenced our voyage to hudson's bay--having the eddystone, wear, and harmony, missionary brig, in company. the comparisons of the chronometers this day indicated that arnold's nos. 2148 and 2147, had slightly changed their rates since they had been brought on board; fortunately the rate of the former seems to have increased nearly in the same ratio as the other has lost, and the mean longitude will not be materially affected. being now fairly launched into the atlantic, i issued a general memorandum for the guidance of the officers during the prosecution of the service on which we were engaged, and communicated to them the several points of information that were expected from us by my instructions. i also furnished them with copies of the signals which had been agreed upon between lieutenant parry and myself, to be used in the event of our reaching the northern coast of america, and falling in with each other. at the end of the month of june, our progress was found to have been extremely slow, owing to a determined n.w. wind and much sea. we had numerous birds hovering round the ship; principally fulmars (_procellaria glacialis_,) and shearwaters, (_procellaria puffinus_,) and not unfrequently saw shoals of grampusses sporting about, which the greenland seamen term finners from their large dorsal fin. some porpoises occasionally appeared, and whenever they did, the crew were sanguine in their expectation of having a speedy change in the wind, which had been so vexatiously contrary, but they were disappointed in every instance. _thursday, july 1_.--the month of july set in more favourably; and, aided by fresh breezes, we advanced rapidly to the westward, attended daily by numerous fulmars and shearwaters. the missionary brig had parted company on the 22d of june. we passed directly over that part of the ocean where the "sunken land of buss" is laid down in the old, and continued in the admiralty charts. mr. bell, the commander of the eddystone, informed me, that the pilot who brought his ship down the thames told him that he had gained soundings in twelve feet somewhere hereabout; and i am rather inclined to attribute the very unusual and cross sea we had in this neighbourhood to the existence of a bank, than to the effect of a gale of wind which we had just before experienced; and i cannot but regret that the commander of the ship did not try for soundings at frequent intervals. by the 25th july we had opened the entrance of davis' straits, and in the afternoon spoke the andrew marvell, bound to england with a cargo of fourteen fish. the master informed us that the ice had been heavier this season in davis' straits than he had ever recollected, and that it lay particularly close to the westward, being connected with the shore to the northward of resolution island, and extending from thence within a short distance of the greenland coast; that whales had been abundant, but the ice so extremely cross, that few could be killed. his ship, as well as several others, had suffered material injury, and two vessels had been entirely crushed between vast masses of ice in latitude 74° 40' n., but the crews were saved. we inquired anxiously, but in vain, for intelligence respecting lieutenant parry, and the ships under his command; but as he mentioned that the wind had been blowing strong from the northward for some time, which would, probably, have cleared baffin's bay of ice, we were disposed to hope favourably of his progress. the clouds assumed so much the appearance of icebergs this evening, as to deceive most of the passengers and crew; but their imaginations had been excited by the intelligence we had received from the andrew marvell, that she had only parted from a cluster of them two days previous to our meetings. on the 27th, being in latitude 57° 44' 21" n., longitude 47° 31' 14" w., and the weather calm we tried for soundings, but did not reach the bottom. the register thermometer was attached to the line just above the lead, and is supposed to have descended six hundred and fifty fathoms. a well-corked bottle was also fastened to the line, two hundred fathoms above the lead, and went down four hundred and fifty fathoms. the change in temperature, shewn by the register thermometer during the descent, was from 52° to 40.5; and it stood at the latter point, when taken out of the tin case. the temperature of the water brought up in the bottle was 41°, being half a degree higher at four hundred and fifty than at six hundred and fifty fathoms, and four degrees colder than the water at the surface, which was then at 45°, whilst that of the air was 46°. this experiment in shewing the water to be colder at a great depth than at the surface, and in proportion to the increase of the descent, coincides with the observations of captain ross and lieutenant parry, on their late voyage to these seas, but is contrary to the results obtained by captain buchan and myself, on our recent voyage to the north, between spitzbergen and greenland, in which sea we invariably found the water brought from any great depth to be warmer than that at the surface. on the 28th we tacked, to avoid an extensive stream of sailing ice. the temperature of the water fell to 39.5°{5}, when we were near it, but was at 41°, when at the distance of half a mile. the thermometer in the air remained steadily at 40°. thus the proximity of this ice was not so decidedly indicated by the decrease of the temperature of either the air or water, as i have before witnessed, which was probably owing to the recent arrival of the stream at this point, and its passing at too quick a rate for the effectual diffusion of its chilling influence beyond a short distance. still the decrease in both cases was sufficient to have given timely warning for a ship's performing any evolution that would have prevented the coming in contact with it, had the thickness of the weather precluded a distant view of the danger. the approach to ice would be more evidently pointed out in the atlantic, or wherever the surface is not so continually chilled by the passing and the melting of ice as in this sea; and i should strongly recommend a strict hourly attention to the thermometrical state of the water at the surface, in all parts where ships are exposed to the dangerous concussion of sailing icebergs, as a principal means of security. the following day our ship came near another stream of ice, and the approach to it was indicated by a decrease of the temperature of the water at the surface from 44° to 42°. a small pine-tree was picked up much shattered by the ice. in the afternoon of the 30th, a very dense fog came on; and, about six p.m., when sailing before a fresh breeze, we were suddenly involved in a heavy stream of ice. considerable difficulty was experienced in steering through the narrow channels between the different masses in this foggy weather, and the ship received several severe blows. the water, as usual in the centre of the stream, was quite smooth, but we heard the waves beating violently against the outer edge of the ice. there was some earthy matter on several of the pieces, and the whole body bore the appearance of recent separation from the land. in the space of two hours we again got into the open sea, but had left our two consorts far behind; they followed our track by the guns we discharged. the temperature of the surface water was 35° when amongst the ice, 38° when just clear of it, and 41.5° at two miles distant. on the 4th of august, when in latitude 59° 58' n., longitude 59° 53' w., we first fell in with large icebergs; and in the evening were encompassed by several of considerable magnitude, which obliged us to tack the ship in order to prevent our getting entangled amongst them. the estimated distance from the nearest part of the labrador coast was then eighty-eight miles; here we tried for soundings, without gaining the bottom. the ship passed through some strong riplings, which evidently indicated a current, but its direction was not ascertained. we found, however, by the recent observations, that the ship had been set daily to the southward, since we had opened davis' straits. the variation of the compass was observed to be 52° 41' w. at nine p.m., brilliant coruscations of the aurora borealis appeared, of a pale ochre colour, with a slight tinge of red, in an arched form, crossing the zenith from n.w. to s.e., but afterwards they assumed various shapes, and had a rapid motion. on the 5th of august, a party of the officers endeavoured to get on one of the larger icebergs, but ineffectually, owing to the steepness and smoothness of its sides, and the swell produced by its undulating motion. this was one of the largest we saw, and mr. hood ascertained its height to be one hundred and forty-nine feet; but these masses of ice are frequently magnified to an immense size, through the illusive medium of a hazy atmosphere, and on this account their dimensions have often been exaggerated by voyagers. in the morning of the 7th, the island of resolution was indistinctly seen through the haze, but was soon afterwards entirely hidden by a very dense fog. the favourable breeze subsided into a perfect calm, and left the ship surrounded by loose ice. at this time the eddystone was perceived to be driving with rapidity towards some of the larger masses; the stern-boats of this ship and of the wear were despatched to assist in towing her clear of them. at ten, a momentary clearness presented the land distinctly at the distance of two miles; the ship was quite unmanageable, and under the sole governance of the currents, which ran in strong eddies between the masses of ice. our consorts were also seen, the wear being within hail, and the eddystone at a short distance from us. two attempts were ineffectually made to gain soundings, and the extreme density of the fog precluded us from any other means of ascertaining the direction in which we were driving until half past twelve, when we had the alarming view of a barren rugged shore within a few yards, towering over the mast heads. almost instantly afterwards the ship struck violently on a point of rocks, projecting from the island; and the ship's side was brought so near to the shore, that poles were prepared to push her off. this blow displaced the rudder, and raised it several inches, but it fortunately had been previously confined by tackles. a gentle swell freed the ship from this perilous situation, but the current hurried us along in contact with the rocky shore, and the prospect was most alarming. on the outward bow was perceived a rugged and precipitous cliff, whose summit was hid in the fog, and the vessel's head was pointed towards the bottom of a small bay, into which we were rapidly driving. there now seemed to be no probability of escaping shipwreck, being without wind, and having the rudder in its present useless state; the only assistance was that of a boat employed in towing, which had been placed in the water between the ship and the shore, at the imminent risk of its being crushed. the ship again struck in passing over a ledge of rocks, and happily the blow replaced the rudder, which enabled us to take advantage of a light breeze, and to direct the ship's head without the projecting cliff. but the breeze was only momentary, and the ship was a third time driven on shore on the rocky termination of the cliff. here we remained stationary for some seconds, and with little prospect of being removed from this perilous situation; but we were once more extricated by the swell from this ledge also, and carried still farther along the shore. the coast became now more rugged, and our view of it was terminated by another high projecting point on the starboard bow. happily, before we had reached it, a light breeze enabled us to turn the ship's head to seaward, and we had the gratification to find, when the sails were trimmed, that she drew off the shore. we had made but little progress, however, when she was violently forced by the current against a large iceberg lying aground. our prospect was now more alarming than at any preceding period; and it would be difficult for me to portray the anxiety and dismay depicted on the countenances of the female passengers and children, who were rushing on deck in spite of the endeavours of the officers to keep them below, out of the danger which was apprehended if the masts should be carried away. after the first concussion, the ship was driven along the steep and rugged side of this iceberg with such amazing rapidity, that the destruction of the masts seemed inevitable, and every one expected we should again be forced on the rocks in the most disabled state; but we providentially escaped this perilous result, which must have been decisive. the dense fog now cleared away for a short time, and we discovered the eddystone close to some rocks, having three boats employed in towing; but the wear was not visible. our ship received water very fast; the pumps were instantly manned and kept in continual use, and signals of distress were made to the eddystone, whose commander promptly came on board, and then ordered to our assistance his carpenter and all the men he could spare, together with the carpenter and boat's crew of the wear, who had gone on board the eddystone in the morning, and were prevented from returning to their own vessel by the fog. as the wind was increasing, and the sky appeared very unsettled, it was determined the eddystone should take the ship in tow, that the undivided attention of the passengers and crew might be directed to pumping, and clearing the holds to examine whether there was a possibility of stopping the leak. we soon had reason to suppose the principal injury had been received from a blow near the stern-post, and, after cutting away part of the ceiling, the carpenters endeavoured to stop the rushing in of the water, by forcing oakum between the timbers; but this had not the desired effect, and the leak, in spite of all our efforts at the pumps, increased so much, that parties of the officers and passengers were stationed to bail out the water in buckets at different parts of the hold. a heavy gale came on, blowing from the land, as the night advanced; the sails were split, the ship was encompassed by heavy ice, and, in forcing through a closely connected stream, the tow-rope broke, and obliged us to take a portion of the seamen from the pumps, and appoint them to the management of the ship. fatigue, indeed, had caused us to relax in our exertions at the pumps during a part of the night of the 8th, and on the following morning upwards of five feet water was found in the well. renewed exertions were now put forth by every person, and before eight a.m. the water was so much reduced as to enable the carpenters to get at other defective places; but the remedies they could apply were insufficient to repress the water from rushing in, and our labours could but just keep the ship in the same state throughout the day, until six p.m.; when the strength of every one began to fail, the expedient of thrusting in felt, as well as oakum, was resorted to, and a plank nailed over all. after this operation a perceptible diminution in the water was made, and being encouraged by the change, we put forth our utmost exertion in bailing and pumping; and before night, to our infinite joy, the leak was so overpowered that the pumps were only required to be used at intervals of ten minutes. a sail, covered with every substance that could be carried into the leaks by the pressure of the water, was drawn under the quarter of the ship, and secured by ropes on each side. as a matter of precaution in the event of having to abandon the ship, which was for some time doubtful, the elderly women and children were removed to the eddystone when the wind was moderate this afternoon, but the young women remained to assist at the pumps, and their services were highly valuable, both for their personal labour, and for the encouragement their example and perseverance gave to the men. at day-light, on the 9th, every eye was anxiously cast around the horizon in search of the wear, but in vain; and the recollection of our own recent peril caused us to entertain considerable apprehensions for her safety. this anxiety quickened our efforts to exchange our shattered sails for new ones, that the ship might be got, as speedily as possible, near to the land, which was but just in sight, and a careful search be made for her along the coast. we were rejoiced to find that our leak did not increase by carrying sail, and we ventured in the evening to remove the sail which had been placed under the part where the injury had been received, as it greatly impeded our advance. we passed many icebergs on the 10th, and in the evening we tacked from a level field of ice, which extended northward as far as the eye could reach. our leak remained in the same state; the pumps discharged in three minutes the quantity of water which had been received in fifteen. the ship could not be got near to the land before the afternoon of the 11th. at four p.m. we hove to, opposite to, and about five miles distant from, the spot on which we had first struck on saturday. every glass was directed along the shore (as they had been throughout the day,) to discover any trace of our absent consort; but, as none was seen, our solicitude respecting her was much increased, and we feared the crew might be wrecked on this inhospitable shore. guns were frequently fired to apprize any who might be near of our approach; but, as no one appeared, and no signal was returned, and the loose ice was setting down towards the ship, we bore up to proceed to the next appointed rendezvous. at eight p.m. we were abreast of the s.w. end of the island called cape resolution, which is a low point, but indicated at a distance by a lofty round backed hill that rises above it. we entered hudson's straits soon afterwards. the coast of resolution island should be approached with caution, as the tides appear to be strong and uncertain in their course. some dangerous rocks lie above and below the water's edge, at the distance of five or six miles from east bluff, bearing s. 32° e. _august 12_.--having had a fresh gale through the night, we reached saddleback island by noon--the place of rendezvous; and looked anxiously, but in vain, for the wear. several guns were fired, supposing she might be hid from our view by the land; but, as she did not appear, captain davidson, having remained two hours, deemed further delay inexpedient, and bore up to keep the advantage of the fair wind. the outline of this island is rugged; the hummock on its northern extremity appeared to me to resemble a decayed martello tower more than a saddle. azimuths were obtained this evening that gave the variation 58° 45' w., which is greater than is laid down in the charts, or than the officers of the hudson's bay ships have been accustomed to allow. we arrived abreast of the upper savage island early in the morning, and as the breeze was moderate, the ship was steered as near to the shore as the wind would permit, to give the esquimaux inhabitants an opportunity of coming off to barter, which they soon embraced. their shouts at a distance intimated their approach sometime before we descried the canoes paddling towards us; the headmost of them reached us at eleven; these were quickly followed by others, and before noon about forty canoes, each holding one man, were assembled around the two ships. in the afternoon, when we approached nearer to the shore, five or six larger ones, containing the women and children, came up. the esquimaux immediately evinced their desire to barter, and displayed no small cunning in making their bargains, taking care not to exhibit too many articles at first. their principal commodities were, oil, sea-horse teeth, whale-bone, seal-skin dresses, caps and boots, deer-skins and horns, and models of their canoes; and they received in exchange small saws, knives, nails, tin-kettles, and needles. it was pleasing to behold the exultation, and to hear the shouts of the whole party, when an acquisition was made by any one; and not a little ludicrous to behold the eagerness with which the fortunate person licked each article with his tongue, on receiving it, as a finish to the bargain, and an act of appropriation. they in no instance omitted this strange practice, however small the article; the needles even passed individually through the ceremony. the women brought imitations of men, women, animals, and birds, carved with labour and ingenuity out of sea-horse teeth. the dresses and the figures of the animals, were not badly executed, but there was no attempt at the delineation of the countenances; and most of the figures were without eyes, ears, and fingers, the execution of which would, perhaps, have required more delicate instruments than they possess. the men set most value on saws; _kuttee-swa-bak_, the name by which they distinguish them, was a constant cry. knives were held next in estimation. an old sword was bartered from the eddystone, and i shall long remember the universal burst of joy on the happy man's receiving it. it was delightful to witness the general interest excited by individual acquisitions. there was no desire shewn by any one to over-reach his neighbour, or to press towards any part of the ship where{6} a bargain was making, until the person in possession of the place had completed his exchange and removed; and, if any article happened to be demanded from the outer canoes, the men nearest assisted willingly in passing the thing across. supposing the party to belong to one tribe, the total number of the tribe must exceed two hundred persons, as there were, probably, one hundred and fifty around the ships, and few of these were elderly persons, or male children. their faces were broad and flat, the eyes small. the men were in general stout. some of the younger women and the children had rather pleasing countenances, but the difference between these and the more aged of that sex, bore strong testimony to the effects which a few years produce in this ungenial climate. most of the party had sore eyes, all of them appeared of a plethoric habit of body; several were observed bleeding at the nose during their stay near the ship. the men's dresses consisted of a jacket of seal-skin, the trowsers of bear-skin, and several had caps of the white fox-skin. the female dresses were made of the same materials, but differently shaped, having a hood in which the infants were carried. we thought their manner very lively and agreeable. they were fond of mimicking our speech and gestures; but nothing afforded them greater amusement than when we attempted to retaliate by pronouncing any of their words. the canoes were of seal-skin, and similar in every respect to those used by the esquimaux in greenland; they were generally new and very complete in their appointments. those appropriated to the women are of ruder construction, and only calculated for fine weather; they are, however, useful vessels, being capable of containing twenty persons with their luggage. an elderly man officiates as steersman, and the women paddle, but they have also a mast which carries a sail, made of dressed whale-gut. when the women had disposed of all their articles of trade they resorted to entreaty; and the putting in practice many enticing gestures was managed with so much address, as to procure them presents of a variety of beads, needles, and other articles in great demand among females. it is probable these esquimaux go from this shore to some part of labrador to pass the winter, as parties of them have been frequently seen by the homeward-bound hudson's bay ships in the act of crossing the strait. they appear to speak the same language as the tribe of esquimaux, who reside near to the moravian settlements in labrador: for we perceived they used several of the words which had been given to us by the missionaries at stromness. towards evening, the captain, being desirous to get rid of his visitors, took an effectual method by tacking from the shore; our friends then departed apparently in high glee at the harvest they had reaped. they paddled away very swiftly, and would, doubtless, soon reach the shore though it was distant ten or twelve miles. not having encountered any of the ice, which usually arrests the progress of ships in their outward passage through the straits, and being consequently deprived of the usual means of replenishing our stock of water, which had become short, the captain resolved on going to the coast of labrador for a supply. dr. richardson and i gladly embraced this opportunity to land, and examine this part of the coast. i was also desirous to observe the variation on shore, as the azimuths, which had been taken on board both ships since our entrance into the straits, had shewn a greater amount than we had been led to expect; but, unluckily the sun became obscured. the beach consisted of large rolled stones of gneiss and syenite{7}, amongst which many pieces of ice had grounded, and it was with difficulty that we effected a landing in a small cove under a steep cliff. these stones were worn perfectly smooth; neither in the interstices, nor at the bottom of the water, which was very clear, were there any vestiges of sea-weed. the cliff was from forty to fifty feet high and quite perpendicular, and had at its base a small slip of soil formed of the debris of a bed of clay-slate. from this narrow spot dr. richardson collected specimens of thirty different species of plants; and we were about to scramble up a shelving part of the rock, and go into the interior, when we perceived the signal of recall, which the master had caused to be made, in consequence of a sudden change in the appearance of the weather. on the evening of the 19th, we passed digge's islands, the termination of hudson's strait. here the eddystone parted company, being bound to moose factory at the bottom of the bay. a strong north wind came on, which prevented our getting round the north end of mansfield, and, as it continued to blow with equal strength for the next five days, we were most vexatiously detained in beating along the labrador coast, and near the dangerous chain of islands, the sleepers, which are said to extend from the latitude of 60° 10' to 57° 00' n. the press of sail, which of necessity we carried caused the leak to increase and the pumps were kept in constant use. a favouring wind at length enabled us, on the 25th, to shape our course across hudson's bay. nothing worthy of remark occurred during this passage, except the rapid decrease in the variation of the magnetic needle. the few remarks respecting the appearance of the land, which we were able to make in our quick passage through these straits, were transmitted to the admiralty; but as they will not be interesting to the general reader, and may not be sufficiently accurate for the guidance of the navigator, they are omitted in this narrative. on the 28th we discovered the land to the southward of cape tatnam, which is so extremely low, that the tops of the trees were first discerned; the soundings at the time were seventeen fathoms, which gradually decreased to five as the shore was approached. cape tatnam is not otherwise remarkable than as being the point from which the coast inclines rather more to the westward towards york factory. the opening of the morning of the 30th presented to our view the anchorage at york flats, and the gratifying sight of a vessel at anchor, which we recognised, after an anxious examination, to be the wear. a strong breeze blowing from the direction of the flats, caused the water to be more shallow than usual on the sandy bar, which lies on the seaward side of the anchorage, and we could not get over it before two p.m., when the tide was nearly at its height. immediately after our arrival, mr. williams, the governor of the hudson's bay company's posts, came{8} on board, accompanied by the commander of the wear. the pleasure we felt in welcoming the latter gentleman can easily be imagined, when it is considered what reason we had to apprehend that he and his crew had been numbered with the dead. we learned that one of the larger masses of ice had providentially drifted between the vessel's side and the rocks just at the time he expected to strike, to which he secured it until a breeze sprang up, and enabled him to pursue his voyage. the governor acquainted me that he had received information from the committee of the hudson's bay company of the equipment of the expedition, and that the officers would come out in their first ship. in the evening dr. richardson, mr. hood, and i, accompanied him to york factory, which we reached after dark; it is distant from the flats seven miles. early next morning the honour of a salute was conferred on the members of the expedition. having communicated to the governor the objects of the expedition, and that i had been directed to consult with him and the senior servants of the company as to the best mode of proceeding towards the execution of the service, i was gratified by his assurance that his instructions from the committee directed that every possible assistance should be given to forward our progress, and that he should feel peculiar pleasure in performing this part of his duty. he introduced me at once to messrs. charles, swaine, and snodie, masters of districts, who, from long residence in the country, were perfectly acquainted with the different modes of travelling, and the obstructions which might be anticipated. at the desire of these gentlemen, i drew up a series of questions respecting the points on which we required information; to which, two days afterwards they had the kindness to return very explicit and satisfactory answers; and on receiving them i requested the governor to favour me with his sentiments on the same subject in writing, which he delivered to me on the following day. having learned that messrs. shaw, mctavish, and several other partners of the n.w. company, were under detention at this place, we took the earliest opportunity of visiting them; when having presented the general circular, and other introductory letters, with which i had been furnished by their agent mr. simon mcgillivray, we received from them the most friendly and full assurance of the cordial endeavours of the wintering partners of their company to promote the interests of the expedition. the knowledge we had now gained of the state of the violent commercial opposition existing in the country, rendered this assurance highly gratifying; and these gentlemen added to the obligation by freely communicating that information respecting the interior of the country, which their intelligence and long residence so fully qualified them to give. i deemed it expedient to issue a memorandum to the officers of the expedition, strictly prohibiting any interference whatever in the existing quarrels, or any that might arise, between the two companies; and on presenting it to the principals of both the parties, they expressed their satisfaction at the step i had taken. the opinions of all the gentlemen were so decidedly in favour of the route by cumberland house, and through the chain of posts to the great slave lake, that i determined on pursuing it, and immediately communicated my intention to the governor, with a request that he would furnish me with the means of conveyance for the party as speedily as possible. it was suggested in my instructions that we might probably procure a schooner at this place, to proceed north as far as wager bay; but the vessel alluded to was lying at moose factory, completely out of repair; independently of which, the route directly to the northward was rendered impracticable by the impossibility of procuring hunters and guides on the coast. i found that as the esquimaux inhabitants had left churchill a month previous to our arrival, no interpreter from that quarter could be procured before their return in the following spring. the governor, however, undertook to forward to us, next season, the only one amongst them who understood english, if he could be induced to go. the governor selected one of the largest of the company's boats for our use on the journey, and directed the carpenters to commence refitting it immediately; but he was only able to furnish us with a steersman; and we were obliged to make up the rest of the crew with the boatmen brought from stromness, and our two attendants. york factory, the principal depôt of the hudson's bay company, stands on the west bank of hayes' river, about five miles above its mouth, on the marshy peninsula which separates the hayes and nelson rivers. the surrounding country is flat and swampy, and covered with willows, poplars, larch, spruce, and birch-trees; but the requisition for fuel has expended all the wood in the vicinity of the fort, and the residents have now to send for it to a considerable distance. the soil is alluvial clay, and contains imbedded rolled stones. though the bank of the river is elevated about twenty feet, it is frequently overflown by the spring-floods, and large portions are annually carried away by the disruption of the ice, which grounding in the stream, have formed several muddy islands. these interruptions, together with the various collection of stones that are hid at high water, render the navigation of the river difficult; but vessels of two hundred tons burthen may be brought through the proper channels as high as the factory. the principal buildings are placed in the form of a square, having an octagonal court in the centre; they are two stories in height, and have flat roofs covered with lead. the officers dwell in one portion of this square, and in the other parts the articles of merchandise are kept: the workshops, storehouses for the furs, and the servants' houses are ranged on the outside of the square, and the whole is surrounded by a stockade twenty feet high. a platform is laid from the house to the pier on the bank for the convenience of transporting the stores and furs, which is the only promenade the residents have on this marshy spot during the summer season. the few indians who now frequent this establishment, belong to the _swampy crees_. there were several of them encamped on the outside of the stockade. their tents were rudely constructed by tying twenty or thirty poles together at the top, and spreading them out at the base so as to form a cone; these were covered with dressed moose-skins. the fire is placed in the centre, and a hole is left for the escape of the smoke. the inmates had a squalid look, and were suffering under the combined afflictions of hooping-cough and measles; but even these miseries did not keep them from an excessive indulgence in spirits, which they unhappily can procure from the traders with too much facility; and they nightly serenaded us with their monotonous drunken songs. their sickness at this time, was particularly felt by the traders, this being the season of the year when the exertion of every hunter is required to procure their winter's stock of geese, which resort in immense flocks to the extensive flats in this neighbourhood. these birds, during the summer, retire far to the north, and breed in security; but, when the approach of winter compels them to seek a more southern climate, they generally alight on the marshes of this bay, and fatten there for three weeks or a month, before they take their final departure from the country. they also make a short halt at the same spots in their progress northwards in the spring. their arrival is welcomed with joy, and the _goose hunt_ is one of the most plentiful seasons of the year. the ducks frequent the swamps all the summer. the weather was extremely unfavourable for celestial observations during our stay, and it was only by watching the momentary appearances of the sun, that we were enabled to obtain fresh rates for the chronometers, and allow for their errors from greenwich time. the dip of the needle was observed to be 79° 29' 07", and the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 11° 3' 40". a succession of fresh breezes prevented our ascertaining the intensity of the magnetic force. the position of york factory, by our observations, is in latitude 57° 00' 03" n., longitude 92° 26' w. the variation of the compass 6° 00' 21" e. chapter ii. passage up hayes', steel, and hill rivers--cross swampy lake--jack river--knee lake and magnetic islet--trout river--holy lake--weepinapannis river--windy lake--white-fall lake and river--echemamis and sea rivers--play-green lakes--lake winipeg--river saskatchawan--cross, cedar, and pine-island lakes--cumberland house. 1819. september. on the 9th of september, our boat being completed, arrangements were made for our departure as soon as the tide should serve. but, when the stores were brought down to the beach, it was found that the boat would not contain them all. the whole, therefore, of the bacon, and part of the flour, rice, tobacco, and ammunition, were returned into the store. the bacon was too bulky an article to be forwarded under any circumstances; but the governor undertook to forward the rest next season. in making the selection of articles to carry with us, i was guided by the judgment of governor williams, who assured me that tobacco, ammunition, and spirits, could be procured in the interior, otherwise i should have been very unwilling to have left these essential articles behind. we embarked at noon, and were honoured with a salute of eight guns and three cheers from the governor and all the inmates of the fort, who had assembled to witness our departure. we gratefully returned their cheers, and then made sail, much delighted at having now commenced our voyage into the interior of america. the wind and tide failing us at the distance of six miles above the factory, and the current being too rapid for using oars to advantage, the crew had to commence tracking, or dragging the boat by a line, to which they were harnessed. this operation is extremely laborious in these rivers. our men were obliged to walk along the steep declivity of a high bank, rendered at this season soft and slippery by frequent rains, and their progress was often further impeded by fallen trees, which, having slipped from the verge of the thick wood above, hung on the face of the bank in a great variety of directions. notwithstanding these obstacles, we advanced at the rate of two miles an hour, one-half of the crew relieving the other at intervals of an hour and a half. the banks of the river, and its islands, composed of alluvial soil, are well covered with pines, larches, poplars, and willows. the breadth of the stream, some distance above the factory, is about half a mile, and its depth, during this day's voyage, varied from three to nine feet. at sunset we landed, and pitched the tent for the night, having made a progress of twelve miles. a large fire was quickly kindled, supper speedily prepared, and as readily despatched, when we retired with our buffalo robes on, and enjoyed a night of sound repose. it may here be stated, that the survey of the river was made by taking the bearings of every point with a pocket compass, estimating the distances, and making a connected eye-sketch of the whole. this part of the survey was allotted to messrs. back and hood conjointly: mr. hood also protracted the route every evening on a ruled map, after the courses and distances had been corrected by observations for latitude and longitude, taken by myself as often as the weather would allow. the extraordinary talent of this young officer in this line of service proved of the greatest advantage to the expedition, and he continued to perform that duty until his lamented death, with a degree of zeal and accuracy that characterized all his pursuits. the next morning our camp was in motion at five a.m., and we soon afterwards embarked with the flattering accompaniment of a fair wind: it proved, however, too light to enable us to stem the stream, and we were obliged to resume the fatiguing operation of tracking; sometimes under cliffs so steep that the men could scarcely find a footing, and not unfrequently over spots rendered so miry by the small streams that trickled from above, as to be almost impassable. in the course of the day we passed the scene of a very melancholy accident. some years ago, two families of indians, induced by the flatness of a small beach, which lay betwixt the cliff and the river, chose it as the site of their encampment. they retired quietly to rest, not aware that the precipice, detached from the bank, and urged by an accumulation of water in the crevice behind, was tottering to its base. it fell during the night, and the whole party was buried under its ruins. the length of our voyage to-day was, in a direct line, sixteen miles and a quarter, on a s.s.w. course. we encamped soon after sunset, and the tent was scarcely pitched when a heavy rain began, which continued all night. sixteen miles on the 11th, and five on the following morning, brought us to the commencement of hayes' river, which is formed by the confluence of the shamattawa and steel rivers. our observations place this spot in latitude 56° 22' 32" n., longitude 93° 1' 37" w. it is forty-eight miles and a half from york factory including the windings of the river. steel river, through which our course lay, is about three hundred yards wide at its mouth; its banks have more elevation than those of hayes' river, but they shelve more gradually down to the stream, and afford a tolerably good towing path, which compensates, in some degree, for the rapids and frequent shoals that impede its navigation. we succeeded in getting about ten miles above the mouth of the river, before the close of day compelled us to disembark. we made an effort, on the morning of the 13th, to stem the current under sail, but as the course of the river was very serpentine, we found that greater progress could be made by tracking. steel river presents much beautiful scenery; it winds through a narrow, but well wooded, valley, which at every turn disclosed to us an agreeable variety of prospect, rendered more picturesque by the effect of the season on the foliage, now ready to drop from the trees. the light yellow of the fading poplars formed a fine contrast to the dark evergreen of the spruce, whilst the willows of an intermediate hue, served to shade the two principal masses of colour into each other. the scene was occasionally enlivened by the bright purple tints of the dogwood, blended with the browner shades of the dwarf birch, and frequently intermixed with the gay yellow flowers of the shrubby cinquefoil. with all these charms, the scene appeared desolate from the want of the human species. the stillness was so great, that even the twittering of the _whiskey-johneesh_, or cinereous crow, caused us to start. our voyage to-day was sixteen miles on a s.w. course. _sept. 14_.--we had much rain during the night, and also in the morning, which detained us in our encampment later than usual. we set out as soon as the weather cleared up; and in a short time arrived at the head of steel river, where it is formed by the junction of fox and hill rivers. these two rivers are nearly of equal width, but the latter is the most rapid. mr. mcdonald, on his way to red river, in a small canoe, manned by two indians, overtook us at this place. it may be mentioned as a proof of the dexterity of the indians, and the skill with which they steal upon their game, that they had on the preceding day, with no other arms than a hatchet, killed two deer, a hawk, a curlew, and a sturgeon. three of the company's boats joined us in the course of the morning, and we pursued our course up hill river in company. the water in this river was so low, and the rapids so bad, that we were obliged several times, in the course of the day, to jump into the water, and assist in lifting the boat over the large stones which impeded the navigation. the length of our voyage to-day was only six miles and three quarters. the four boats commenced operations together at five o'clock the following morning; but our boat being overladen, we soon found that we were unable to keep pace with the others; and, therefore, proposed to the gentlemen in charge of the company's boats, that they should relieve us of part of our cargo. this they declined doing, under the plea of not having received orders to that effect, notwithstanding that the circular, with which i was furnished by governor williams, strictly enjoined all the company's servants to afford us every assistance. in consequence of this refusal we dropt behind, and our steersman, who was inexperienced, being thus deprived of the advantage of observing the route followed by the guide, who was in the foremost boat, frequently took a wrong channel. the tow-line broke twice, and the boat was only prevented from going broadside down the stream, and breaking to pieces against the stones, by the officers and men leaping into the water, and holding her head to the current until the line could be carried again to the shore. it is but justice to say, that in these trying situations, we received much assistance from mr. thomas swaine, who with great kindness waited for us with the boat under his charge at such places as he apprehended would be most difficult to pass. we encamped at sunset, completely jaded with toil. our distance made good this day was twelve miles and a quarter. the labours of the 16th commenced at half past five, and for some time the difficulty of getting the boats over the rapids was equal to what we experienced the day before. having passed a small brook, however, termed _half-way creek_, the river became deeper, and although rapid, it was smooth enough to be named by our orkney boatmen _still-water_. we were further relieved by the company's clerks consenting to take a few boxes of our stores into their boats. still we made only eleven miles in the course of the day. the banks of hill river are higher, and have a more broken outline, than those of steel or hayes' rivers. the cliffs of alluvial clay rose in some places to the height of eighty or ninety feet above the stream, and were surmounted by hills about two hundred feet high, but the thickness of the wood prevented us from seeing far beyond the mere banks of the river. _september 17_.--about half past five in the morning we commenced tracking, and soon came to a ridge of rock which extended across the stream. from this place the boat was dragged up several narrow rocky channels, until we came to the rock portage, where the stream, pent in by a range of small islands, forms several cascades. in ascending the river, the boats with their cargoes are carried over one of the islands, but in the descent they are shot down the most shelving of the cascades. having performed the operations of carrying, launching, and restowing the cargo, we plied the oars for a short distance, and landed at a depôt called rock house. here we were informed that the rapids in the upper parts of hill river were much worse and more numerous than those we had passed, particularly in the present season, owing to the unusual lowness of the water. this intelligence was very mortifying, especially as the gentlemen in charge of the company's boats declared that they were unable to carry any part of our stores beyond this place; and the traders, guides, and most experienced of the boatmen, were of opinion, that unless our boat was still further lightened, the winter would put a stop to our progress before we could reach cumberland house, or any eligible post. sixteen pieces were therefore necessarily left with mr. bunn, the gentleman in charge of the post, to be forwarded by the athabasca canoes next season, this being their place of rendezvous. after this we recommenced our voyage, and having pulled nearly a mile, arrived at borrowick's fall, where the boat was dragged up with a line, after part of the cargo had been carried over a small portage. from this place to the mud portage, a distance of a mile and three quarters, the boats were pushed on with poles against a very rapid stream. here we encamped, having come seven miles during the day on a s.w. course. we had several snow showers in the course of the day, and the thermometer at bed-time stood at 30°. on the morning of the 18th, the country was clothed in the livery of winter, a heavy fall of snow having taken place during the night. we embarked at the usual hour, and in the course of the day, crossed the point of rocks and brassa portages, and dragged the boats through several minor rapids. in this tedious way we only made good about nine miles. on sunday the 19th we hauled the boats up several short rapids, or, as the boatmen term them, expressively enough, _spouts_, and carried them over the portages of lower burntwood and morgan's rocks; on the latter of which we encamped, having proceeded, during the whole day only one mile and three quarters. the upper part of hill river swells out considerably, and at morgan's rocks, where it is three quarters of a mile wide, we were gratified with a more extensive prospect of the country than any we had enjoyed since leaving york factory. the banks of the river here, consisting of low flat rocks with intermediate swamps, permitted us to obtain views of the interior, the surface of which is broken into a multitude of cone-shaped hills. the highest of these hills, which gives a name to the river, has an elevation not exceeding six hundred feet. from its summit, thirty-six lakes are said to be visible. the beauty of the scenery, dressed in the tints of autumn called forth our admiration, and was the subject of mr. hood's accurate pencil. on the 20th we passed upper burntwood and rocky ledge portages, besides several strong _spouts_; and in the evening arrived at smooth rock portage, where we encamped, having come three miles and a half. it is not easy for any but an eye-witness to form an adequate idea of the exertions of the orkney boatmen in the navigation of this river. the necessity they are under of frequently jumping into the water to lift the boats over the rocks, compels them to remain the whole day in wet clothes, at a season when the temperature is far below the freezing point. the immense loads too, which they carry over the portages, is not more a matter of surprise than the alacrity with which they perform these laborious duties. at six on the morning of the 21st, we left our encampment, and soon after arrived at the mossy portage, where the cargoes were carried through a deep bog for a quarter of a mile. the river swells out, above this portage, to the breadth of several miles, and as the islands are numerous there are a great variety of channels. night overtook us before we arrived at the _second portage_, so named from its being the second in the passage down the river. our whole distance this day was one mile and a quarter. on the 22d our route led us amongst many wooded islands, which, lying in long vistas, produced scenes of much beauty. in the course of the day we crossed the upper portage, surmounted the devil's landing place, and urged the boat with poles through groundwater creek. at the upper end of this creek, our bowman having given the boat too great a sheer, to avoid the rock, it was caught on the broadside by the current, and, in defiance of our utmost exertions, hurried down the rapid. fortunately, however, it grounded against a rock high enough to prevent the current from oversetting it, and the crews of the other boats having come to our assistance, we succeeded, after several trials, in throwing a rope to them, with which they dragged our almost sinking vessel stern foremost up the stream, and rescued us from our perilous situation. we encamped in the dusk of the evening amidst a heavy thunder-storm, having advanced two miles and three quarters. about ten in the morning of the 23d we arrived at the _dramstone_, which is hailed with pleasure by the boats' crews, as marking the termination of the laborious ascent of hill river. we complied with the custom from whence it derives its name, and soon after landing upon sail island prepared breakfast. in the mean time our boatmen cut down and rigged a new mast, the old one having been thrown overboard at the mouth of steel river, where it ceased to be useful. we left sail island with a fair wind, and soon afterwards arrived at a depôt situated on swampy lake, where we received a supply of mouldy _pemmican_[2]. mr. calder and his attendant were the only tenants of this cheerless abode, and their only food was the wretched stuff with which they supplied us, the lake not yielding fish at this season. after a short delay at this post, we sailed through the remainder of swampy lake, and slept at the lower portage in jack river; the distance sailed to-day being sixteen miles and a half. [2] buffalo-meat, dried and pounded, and mixed with melted fat. jack river is only eight miles long; but being full of bad rapids, it detained us considerably. at seven in the morning of the 24th, we crossed the long portage, where the woods, having caught fire in the summer, were still smoking. this is a common accident, owing to the neglect of the indians and voyagers in not putting out their fires, and in a dry season the woods may be seen blazing to the extent of many miles. we afterwards crossed the second, or swampy portage, and in the evening encamped on the upper portage, where we were overtaken by an indian bringing an answer from governor williams to a letter i had written to him on the 15th, in which he renewed his injunctions to the gentlemen of the boats accompanying us, to afford us every assistance in their power. the aurora borealis appeared this evening in form of a bright arch, extending across the zenith in a n.w. and s.e. direction. the extent of our voyage to-day was two miles. about noon, on the 25th, we entered knee lake, which has a very irregular form, and near its middle takes a sudden turn, from whence it derives its name. it is thickly studded with islands, and its shores are low and well-wooded. the surrounding country, as far as we could see, is flat, being destitute even of the moderate elevations which occur near the upper part of hill river. the weather was remarkably fine, and the setting sun threw the richest tints over the scene that i remember ever to have witnessed. about half a mile from the bend or _knee_ of the lake, there is a small rocky islet, composed of magnetic iron ore, which affects the magnetic needle at a considerable distance. having received previous information respecting this circumstance, we watched our compasses carefully, and perceived that they were affected at the distance of three hundred yards, both on the approach to and departure from the rock: on decreasing the distance, they became gradually more and more unsteady, and on landing they were rendered quite useless; and it was evident that the general magnetic influence was totally overpowered by the local attraction of the ore. when kater's compass was held near to the ground on the n.w. side of the island, the needle dipped so much that the card could not be made to traverse by any adjustment of the hand; but on moving the same compass about thirty yards to the west part of the islet, the needle became horizontal, traversed freely, and pointed to the magnetic north. the dipping needle being landed on the s.w. point of the islet, was adjusted as nearly as possible on the magnetic meridian by the sun's bearings, and found to vibrate freely, when the face of the instrument was directed to the east or west. the mean dip it gave was 80° 37' 50". when the instrument was removed from the n.w. to the s.e. point, about twenty yards distant, and placed on the meridian, the needle ceased to traverse, but remained steady at an angle of 60°. on changing the face of the instrument, so as to give a s.e. and n.w. direction to the needle, it hung vertically. the position of the slaty strata of the magnetic ore is also vertical. their direction is extremely irregular, being much contorted. knee lake towards its upper end becomes narrower, and its rocky shores are broken into conical and rounded eminences, destitute of soil, and of course devoid of trees. we slept at the western extremity of the lake, having come during the day nineteen miles and a half on a s.w. course. we began the ascent of trout river early in the morning of the 27th, and in the course of the day passed three portages and several rapids. at the first of these portages the river falls between two rocks about sixteen feet, and it is necessary to launch the boat over a precipitous rocky bank. this cascade is named the _trout-fall_, and the beauty of the scenery afforded a subject for mr. hood's pencil. the rocks which form the bed of this river are slaty, and present sharp fragments, by which the feet of the boatmen are much lacerated. the second portage, in particular, obtains the expressive name of _knife portage_. the length of our voyage to-day was three miles. on the 28th we passed through the remainder of trout river; and, at noon, arrived at oxford house, on holey lake. this was formerly a post of some consequence to the hudson's bay company, but at present it exhibits unequivocal signs of decay. the indians have of late years been gradually deserting the low or swampy country, and ascending the saskatchawan, where animals are more abundant. a few crees were at this time encamped in front of the fort. they were suffering under hooping-cough and measles, and looked miserably dejected. we endeavoured in vain to prevail on one of them to accompany us for the purpose of killing ducks, which were numerous, but too shy for our sportsmen. we had the satisfaction, however, of exchanging the mouldy pemmican, obtained at swampy lake, for a better kind, and received, moreover, a small, but very acceptable, supply of fish. holey lake, viewed from an eminence behind oxford house, exhibits a pleasing prospect; and its numerous islands, varying much in shape and elevation, contribute to break that uniformity of scenery which proves so palling to a traveller in this country. trout of a great size, frequently exceeding forty pounds' weight, abound in this lake. we left oxford house in the afternoon, and encamped on an island about eight miles' distant, having come, during the day, nine miles and a quarter. at noon, on the 29th, after passing through the remainder of holey lake, we entered the weepinapannis, a narrow grassy river, which runs parallel to the lake for a considerable distance, and forms its south bank into a narrow peninsula. in the morning we arrived at the swampy portage, where two of the boats were broken against the rocks. the length of the day's voyage was nineteen miles and a half. in consequence of the accident yesterday evening, we were detained a considerable time this morning, until the boats were repaired, when we set out, and, after ascending a strong rapid, arrived at the portage by john moore's island. here the river rushes with irresistible force through the channels formed by two rocky islands; and we learned, that last year a poor man, in hauling a boat up one of these channels, was, by the breaking of the line, precipitated into the stream and hurried down the cascade with such rapidity, that all efforts to save him were ineffectual. his body was afterwards found, and interred near the spot. the weepinapannis is composed of several branches which separate and unite, again and again, intersecting the country in a great variety of directions. we pursued the principal channel, and having passed the crooked spout, with several inferior rapids, and crossed a small piece of water, named windy lake, we entered a smooth deep stream about three hundred yards wide, which has got the absurd appellation of the rabbit ground. the marshy banks of this river are skirted by low barren rocks, behind which there are some groups of stunted trees{9}. as we advanced, the country becoming flatter, gradually opened to our view, and we at length arrived at a shallow, reedy lake, the direct course through which leads to the hill portage. this route has, however, of late years been disused, and we therefore turned towards the north, and crossing a small arm of the lake, arrived at hill gates by sunset; having come this day eleven miles. _october 1_.--hill gates is the name imposed on a romantic defile, whose rocky walls, rising perpendicularly to the height of sixty or eighty feet, hem in the stream for three quarters of a mile, in many places so narrowly, that there is a want of room to ply the oars. in passing through this chasm we were naturally led to contemplate the mighty but, probably, slow and gradual effects of the water in wearing down such vast masses of rock; but in the midst of our speculations, the attention was excited anew to a grand and picturesque rapid, which, surrounded by the most wild and majestic scenery, terminated the defile. the brown fishing-eagle had built its nest on one of the projecting cliffs. in the course of the day we surmounted this and another dangerous portage, called, the upper and lower hill gate portages, crossed a small sheet of water, termed the white fall lake, and entering the river of the same name, arrived at the white fall about an hour after sunset, having come fourteen miles on a s.w. course. the whole of the 2d of october was spent in carrying the cargoes over a portage of thirteen hundred yards in length, and in launching the empty boats over three several ridges of rock which obstruct the channel and produce as many cascades. i shall long remember the rude and characteristic wildness of the scenery which surrounded these falls; rocks piled on rocks hung in rude and shapeless masses over the agitated torrents which swept their bases, whilst the bright and variegated tints of the mosses and lichens, that covered the face of the cliffs, contrasting with the dark green of the pines which crowned their summits, added both beauty and grandeur to the scene. our two companions, back and hood, made accurate sketches of these falls. at this place we observed a conspicuous _lop-stick_, a kind of land-mark, which i have not hitherto noticed, notwithstanding its great use in pointing out the frequented routes. it is a pine-tree divested of its lower branches, and having only a small tuft at the top remaining. this operation is usually performed at the instance of some individual emulous of fame. he treats his companions with rum, and they in return strip the tree of its branches, and ever after designate it by his name. in the afternoon, whilst on my way to superintend the operations of the men, a stratum of loose moss gave way under my feet, and i had the misfortune to slip from the summit of a rock into the river betwixt two of the falls. my attempts to regain the bank were, for a time ineffectual, owing to the rocks within my reach having been worn smooth by the action of the water; but, after i had been carried a considerable distance down the stream, i caught hold of a willow, by which i held until two gentlemen of the hudson's bay company came in a boat to my assistance. the only bad consequence{10} of this accident was an injury sustained by a very valuable chronometer, (no. 1733,) belonging to daniel moore, esq., of lincoln's inn. one of the gentlemen to whom i delivered it immediately on landing, in his agitation let it fall, whereby the minute-hand was broken, but the works were not in the smallest degree injured, and the loss of the hand was afterwards supplied. during the night the frost was severe; and at sunrise, on the 3d, the thermometer stood at 25°. after leaving our encampment at the white fall, we passed through several small lakes connected with each other by narrow deep, grassy streams, and at noon arrived at the painted stone. numbers of musk-rats frequent these streams; and we observed, in the course of the morning, many of{11} their mud-houses rising in a conical form to the height of two or three feet above the grass of the swamps in which they were built. the painted stone is a low rock, ten or twelve yards across, remarkable for the marshy streams which arise on each side of it, taking different courses. on the one side, the water-course which we had navigated from york factory commences. this spot may therefore be considered as one of the smaller sources of hayes' river. on the other side of the stone the echemamis rises, and taking a westerly direction falls into nelson river. it is said that there was formerly a stone placed near the centre of this portage on which figures were annually traced, and offerings deposited, by the indians; but the stone has been removed many years, and the spot has ceased to be held in veneration. here we were overtaken by governor williams, who left york factory on the 20th of last month in an indian canoe. he expressed much regret at our having been obliged to leave part of our stores at the rock depôt, and would have brought them up with him had he been able to procure and man a boat, or a canoe of sufficient size. having launched the boats over the rock, we commenced the descent of the echemamis. this small stream has its course through a morass, and in dry seasons its channel contains, instead of water, merely a foot or two of thin mud. on these occasions it is customary to build dams that it may be rendered navigable by the accumulation of its waters. as the beavers perform this operation very effectually, endeavours have been made to encourage them to breed in this place, but it has not hitherto been possible to restrain the indians from killing that useful animal whenever they discover its retreats. on the present occasion there was no want of water, the principal impediment we experienced being from the narrowness of the channel, which permitted the willows of each bank to meet over our heads, and obstruct the men at the oars. after proceeding down the stream for some time, we came to a recently-constructed beaver-dam through which an opening was made sufficient to admit the boat to pass. we were assured that the breach would be closed by the industrious creature in a single night. we encamped about eight miles from the source of the river, having come during the day seventeen miles and a half. on the 4th we embarked amidst a heavy rain, and pursued our route down the echemamis. in many parts the morass, by which the river is nourished, and through which it flows, is intersected by ridges of rock which cross the channel, and require the boat to be lifted over them. in the afternoon we passed through a shallow piece of water overgrown with bulrushes, and hence named hairy lake; and, in the evening, encamped on the banks of blackwater creek, by which this lake empties itself into sea river; having come during the day twenty miles and three quarters. on the morning of the 5th, we entered sea river, one of the many branches of nelson river. it is about four hundred yards wide, and its waters are of a muddy white colour. after ascending the stream for an hour or two, and passing through carpenter's lake, which is merely an expansion of the river to about a mile in breadth, we came to the sea river portage, where the boat was launched across a smooth rock, to avoid a fall of four or five feet. re-embarking at the upper end of the portage, we ran before a fresh gale through the remainder of sea river, the lower part of play green lake, and entering little jack river, landed and pitched our tents. here there is a small log-hut, the residence of a fisherman, who supplies norway house with trout and sturgeon. he gave us a few of these fish, which afforded an acceptable supper. our voyage this day was thirty-four miles. _october 6_.--little jack river is the name given to a channel that winds among several large islands which separate upper and lower play green lakes. at the lower end of this channel, big jack river, a stream of considerable magnitude, falls into the lake. play green is a translation of the appellation given to that lake by two bands of indians, who met and held a festival on an island situated near its centre. after leaving our encampment we sailed through upper play green lake, and arrived at norway point in the forenoon. the waters of lake winipeg, and of the rivers that run into it, the saskatchawan in particular, are rendered turbid by the suspension of a large quantity of white clay. play green lake and nelson river, being the discharges of the winipeg, are equally opaque, a circumstance that renders the sunken rocks, so frequent in these waters, very dangerous to boats in a fresh breeze. owing to this, one of the boats that accompanied us, sailing at the rate of seven miles an hour, struck upon one of these rocks. its mast was carried away by the shock, but fortunately no other damage sustained. the indians ascribe the muddiness of these lakes to an adventure of one of their deities, a mischievous fellow, a sort of robin puck, whom they hold in very little esteem. this deity, who is named weesakootchaht, possesses considerable power, but makes a capricious use of it, and delights in tormenting the poor indians. he is not, however, invincible, and was soiled in one of his attempts by the artifice of an old woman, who succeeded in taking him captive. she called in all the women of the tribe to aid in his punishment, and he escaped from their hands in a condition so filthy that it required all the waters of the great lake to wash him clean; and ever since that period it has been entitled to the appellation of winipeg, or muddy water. norway point forms the extremity of a narrow peninsula which separates play green and winipeg lakes. buildings were first erected here by a party of norwegians, who were driven away from the colony at red river by the commotions which took place some time ago. it is now a trading post belonging to the hudson's bay company. on landing at norway house we met with lord selkirk's colonists, who had started from york factory the day before us.--these poor people were exceedingly pleased at meeting with us again in this wild country; having accompanied them across the atlantic, they viewed us in the light of old acquaintances. this post was under the charge of mr. james sutherland, to whom i am indebted for replacing a minute-hand on the chronometer, which was broken at the white fall, and i had afterwards the satisfaction of finding that it went with extraordinary regularity. the morning of the 7th october was beautifully clear, and the observations we obtained place norway house in latitude 53° 41' 38" n., and longitude 98° 1' 24" w.; the variation of the magnetic needle 14° 12' 41" e., and its dip 83° 40' 10". though our route from york factory has rather inclined to the s.w., the dip, it will be perceived, has gradually increased. the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 7° 39'. there was too much wind to admit of our observing, with any degree of accuracy, the quantity of the magnetic force. we left norway house soon after noon, and the wind being favourable, sailed along the northern shore of lake winipeg the whole of the ensuing night; and on the morning of the 8th landed on a narrow ridge of sand, which, running out twenty miles to the westward, separates limestone bay from the body of the lake. when the wind blows hard from the southward, it is customary to carry boats across this isthmus, and to pull up under its lee. from norwegian point to limestone bay the shore consists of high clay cliffs, against which the waves beat with violence during strong southerly winds. when the wind blows from the land, and the waters of the lake are low, a narrow sandy beach is uncovered, and affords a landing-place for boats. the shores of limestone bay are covered with small fragments of calcareous stones. during the night the aurora borealis was quick in its motions, and various and vivid in its colours. after breakfasting we re-embarked, and continued our voyage until three p.m., when a strong westerly wind arising, we were obliged to shelter ourselves on a small island, which lies near the extremity of the above-mentioned peninsula. this island is formed of a collection of small rolled pieces of limestone, and was remembered by some of our boatmen to have been formerly covered with water. for the last ten or twelve years the waters of the lake have been low, but our information did not enable us to judge whether the decrease was merely casual, or going on continually, or periodical. the distance of this island from norway house is thirty-eight miles and a half. the westerly winds detained us all the morning of the 9th, but, at two p.m., the wind chopped round to the eastward; we immediately embarked, and the breeze afterwards freshening, we reached the mouth of the saskatchawan at midnight, having run thirty-two miles. _sunday, october 10_.--the whole of this day was occupied in getting the boats from the mouth of the river to the foot of the grand rapid, a distance of two miles. there are several rapids in this short distance, during which the river varies its breadth from five hundred yards to half a mile. its channel is stony. at the grand rapid, the saskatchawan forms a sudden bend, from south to east, and works its way through a narrow channel, deeply worn into the limestone strata. the stream, rushing with impetuous force over a rocky and uneven bottom, presents a sheet of foam, and seems to bear with impatience the straitened confinement of its lofty banks. a flock of pelicans, and two or three brown fishing eagles, were fishing in its agitated waters, seemingly with great success. there is a good sturgeon fishery at the foot of the rapid. several golden plovers, canadian grosbeaks, cross-bills, wood-peckers, and pin-tailed grouse, were shot to-day; and mr. back killed a small striped marmot. this beautiful little animal was busily employed in carrying in its distended pouches the seeds of the american vetch to its winter hoards. the portage is eighteen hundred yards long, and its western extremity was found to be in 53° 08' 25" north latitude, and 99° 28' 02" west longitude. the route from canada to the athabasca joins that from york factory at the mouth of the saskatchawan, and we saw traces of a recent encampment of the canadian voyagers. our companions in the hudson's bay boats, dreading an attack from their rivals in trade, were on the alert at this place. they examined minutely the spot of encampment, to form a judgment of the number of canoes that had preceded them; and they advanced, armed, and with great caution, through the woods. their fears, however, on this occasion, were fortunately groundless. by noon, on the 12th, the boats and their cargoes having been conveyed across the portage, we embarked, and pursued our course. the saskatchawan becomes wider above the grand rapid, and the scenery improves. the banks are high, composed of white clay and limestone, and their summits are richly clothed with a variety of firs, poplars, birches, and willows. the current runs with great rapidity, and the channel is in many places intricate and dangerous, from broken ridges of rock jutting into the stream. we pitched our tents at the entrance of cross lake, having advanced only five miles and a half. cross lake is extensive, running towards the n.e. it is said, for forty miles. we crossed it at a narrow part, and pulling through several winding channels, formed by a group of islands, entered cedar lake, which, next to lake winipeg, is the largest sheet of fresh water we had hitherto seen. ducks and geese resort hither in immense flocks in the spring and autumn. these birds were now beginning to go off, owing to its muddy shores having become quite hard through the nightly frosts. at this place the aurora borealis was extremely brilliant in the night, its coruscations darting, at times, over the whole sky, and assuming various prismatic tints, of which the violet and yellow were predominant. after pulling, on the 14th, seven miles and a quarter on the lake, a violent wind drove us for shelter to a small island, or rather a ridge of rolled stones, thrown up by the frequent storms which agitate this lake. the weather did not moderate the whole day, and we were obliged to pass the night on this exposed spot. the delay, however, enabled us to obtain some lunar observations. the wind having subsided, we left our resting-place the following morning, crossed the remainder of the lake, and in the afternoon, arrived at muddy lake, which is very appropriately named, as it consists merely of a few channels, winding amongst extensive mud banks, which are overflowed during the spring floods. we landed at an indian tent, which contained two numerous families, amounting to thirty souls. these poor creatures were badly clothed, and reduced to a miserable condition by the hooping-cough and measles. at the time of our arrival they were busy in preparing a sweating-house for the sick. this is a remedy which they consider, with the addition of singing and drumming, to be the grand specific for all diseases. our companions having obtained some geese, in exchange for rum and tobacco, we proceeded a few more miles, and encamped on devil's drum island, having come, during the day, twenty miles and a half. a second party of indians were encamped on an adjoining island, a situation chosen for the purpose of killing geese and ducks. on the 16th we proceeded eighteen miles up the saskatchawan. its banks are low, covered with willows, and lined with drift timber. the surrounding country is swampy and intersected by the numerous arms of the river. after passing for twenty or thirty yards through the willow thicket on the banks of the stream, we entered an extensive marsh, varied only by a distant line of willows, which marks the course of a creek or branch of the river. the branch we navigated to-day, is almost five hundred yards wide. the exhalations from the marshy soil produced a low fog, although the sky above was perfectly clear. in the course of the day we passed an indian encampment of three tents, whose inmates appeared to be in a still more miserable condition than those we saw yesterday. they had just finished the ceremony of conjuration over some of their sick companions; and a dog, which had been recently killed as a sacrifice to some deity, was hanging to a tree where it would be left (i was told) when they moved their encampment. we continued our voyage up the river to the 20th with little variation of scenery or incident, travelling in that time about thirty miles. the near approach of winter was marked by severe frosts, which continued all day unless when the sun chanced to be unusually bright, and the geese and ducks were observed to take a southerly course in large flocks. on the morning of the 20th we came to a party of indians, encamped behind the bank of the river on the borders of a small marshy lake, for the purpose of killing water-fowl. here we were gratified with the view of a very large tent. its length was about forty feet, its breadth eighteen, and its covering was moose deer leather, with apertures for the escape of the smoke from the fires which are placed at each end; a ledge of wood was placed on the ground on both sides the whole length of the tent, within which were the sleeping-places, arranged probably according to families; and the drums and other instruments of enchantment were piled up in the centre. amongst the indians there were a great many half-breeds, who led an indian life. governor williams gave a dram and a piece of tobacco to each of the males of the party. on the morning of the 21st a heavy fall of snow took place, which lasted until two in the afternoon. in the evening we left the saskatchawan, and entered the little river, one of the two streams by which pine island lake discharges its waters. we advanced to-day fourteen miles and a quarter. on the 22d the weather was extremely cold and stormy, and we had to contend against a strong head wind. the spray froze as it fell, and the oars were so loaded with ice as to be almost unmanageable. the length of our voyage this day was eleven miles. the following morning was very cold; we embarked at day-light, and pulled across a part of pine island lake, about three miles and a half to cumberland house. the margin of the lake was so incrusted with ice, that we had to break through a considerable space of it to approach the landing-place. when we considered that this was the effect of only a few days' frost at the commencement of winter, we were convinced of the impractibility of advancing further by water this season, and therefore resolved on accepting governor williams's kind invitation to remain with him at this post. we immediately visited mr. connolly, the resident partner of the north-west company, and presented to him mr. mac gillivray's circular letter. he assured us that he should be most desirous to forward our progress by every means in his power, and we subsequently had ample proofs of his sincerity and kindness. the unexpected addition of our party to the winter residents at this post, rendered an increase of apartments necessary; and our men were immediately appointed to complete and arrange an unfinished building as speedily as possible. _november 8_.--some mild weather succeeded to the severe frosts we had at our arrival; and the lake had not been entirely frozen before the 6th; but this morning the ice was sufficiently firm to admit of sledges crossing it. the dogs were harnessed at a very early hour, and the winter operations commenced by sending for a supply of fish from swampy river, where men had been stationed to collect it, just before the frost set in. both men and dogs appeared to enjoy the change; they started in full glee, and drove rapidly along. an indian, who had come to the house on the preceding evening to request some provision for his family, whom he represented to be in a state of starvation, accompanied them. his party had been suffering greatly under the epidemic diseases of hooping-cough and measles; and the hunters were still in too debilitated a state to go out and provide them with meat. a supply was given to him, and the men were directed to bring his father, an old and faithful hunter, to the house, that he might have the comforts of nourishment and warmth. he was brought accordingly, but these attentions were unavailing as he died a few days afterwards. two days before his death i was surprised to observe him sitting for nearly three hours, in a piercingly sharp day, in the saw-pit, employed in gathering the dust, and throwing it by handfuls over his body, which was naked to the waist. as the man was in possession of his mental faculties, i conceived he was performing some devotional act preparatory to his departure, which he felt to be approaching, and induced by the novelty of the incident, i went twice to observe him more closely; but when he perceived that he was noticed, he immediately ceased his operation, hung down his head, and by his demeanour, intimated that he considered my appearance an intrusion. the residents at the fort could give me no information on the subject, and i could not learn that the indians in general observe any particular ceremony on the approach of death. _november 15_.--the sky had been overcast during the last week; the sun shone forth once only, and then not sufficiently for the purpose of obtaining observations. faint coruscations of the aurora borealis appeared one evening, but their presence did not in the least affect the electrometer or the compass. the ice daily became thicker in the lake, and the frost had now nearly overpowered the rapid current of the saskatchawan river; indeed, parties of men who were sent from both the forts to search for the indians, and procure whatever skins and provisions they might have collected, crossed that stream this day on the ice. the white partridges made their first appearance near the house, which birds are considered as the infallible harbingers of severe weather. _monday, november 22_.--the saskatchawan, and every other river, were now completely covered with ice, except a small stream not far from the fort through which the current ran very powerfully. in the course of the week we removed into the house our men had prepared since our arrival. we found it at first extremely cold notwithstanding that a good fire was kept in each apartment, and we frequently experienced the extremes of heat and cold on opposite sides of the body. _november 24_.--we obtained observations for the dip of the needle and intensity of the magnetic force in a spare room. the dip was 83° 9' 45", and the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument 13° 3' 6". when the needle was faced to the west it hung nearly perpendicular. the aurora borealis had been faintly visible for a short time the preceding evening. some indians arrived in search of provision, having been totally incapacitated from hunting by sickness; the poor creatures looked miserably ill, and they represented their distress to have been extreme. few recitals are more affecting than those of their sufferings during unfavourable seasons, and in bad situations for hunting and fishing. many assurances have been given me that men and women are yet living who have been reduced to feed upon the bodies of their own family, to prevent actual starvation; and a shocking case was cited to us of a woman who had been principal agent in the destruction of several persons, and amongst the number her husband and nearest relatives, in order to support life. _november 28_.--the atmosphere had been clear every day during the last week, about the end of which snow fell, when the thermometer rose from 20° below to 16° above zero. the aurora borealis was twice visible, but faint on both occasions. its appearance did not affect the electrometer, nor could we perceive the compass to be disturbed. the men brought supplies of moose meat from the hunter's tent, which is pitched near the basquiau hill, forty or fifty miles from the house, and whence the greatest part of the meat is procured. the residents have to send nearly the same distance for their fish, and on this service horse-sledges are used. nets are daily set in pine island lake which occasionally procure some fine sturgeon, tittameg, and trout, but not more than sufficient to supply the officers' table. _december 1_.--this day was so remarkably fine, that we procured another set of observations for the dip of the needle in the open air; the instrument being placed firmly on a rock, the results gave 83° 14' 22".{12} the change produced by reversing the face of the instrument, was 12° 50' 55". there had been a determined thaw during the last three days. the ice on the saskatchawan river and some parts of the lake, broke up, and the travelling across either became dangerous. on this account the absence of wilks, one of our men, caused no small anxiety. he had incautiously undertaken the conduct of a sledge and dogs, in company with a person, going to swampy river for fish. on their return, being unaccustomed to driving, he became fatigued, and seated himself on his sledge, where his companion left him, presuming that he would soon rise and hasten to follow his track. he however returned safe in the morning, and reported that, foreseeing night would set in before he could get across the lake, he prudently retired into the woods before dark, where he remained until day-light; when the men, who had been despatched to look for him, met him returning to the house, shivering with cold, he having been unprovided with the materials for lighting a fire; which an experienced voyager never neglects to carry. we had mild weather until the 20th of december. on the 13th there had been a decided thaw, that caused the saskatchawan, which had again frozen, to re-open, and the passage across it was interrupted for two days. we now received more agreeable accounts from the indians, who were recovering strength, and beginning to hunt a little; but it was generally feared that their spirits had been so much depressed by the loss of their children and relatives, that the season would be far advanced before they could be roused to any exertion in searching for animals beyond what might be necessary for their own support. it is much to be regretted that these poor men, during their long intercourse with europeans, have not been taught how pernicious is the grief which produces total inactivity, and that they have not been furnished with any of the consolations which the christian religion never fails to afford. this, however, could hardly have been expected from persons who have permitted their own offspring, the half-casts, to remain in lamentable ignorance on a subject of such vital importance. it is probable, however, that an improvement will soon take place among the latter class, as governor williams proposes to make the children attend a sunday school, and has already begun to have divine service performed at his post. the conversations which i had with the gentlemen in charge of these posts, convinced me of the necessity of proceeding during the winter into the athabasca department, the residents of which are best acquainted with the nature and resources of the country to the north of the great slave lake; and whence only guides, hunters, and interpreters can be procured. i had previously written to the partners of the north-west company in that quarter, requesting their assistance in forwarding the expedition, and stating what we should require. but, on reflecting upon the accidents that might delay these letters on the road, i determined on proceeding to the athabasca as soon as i possibly could, and communicated my intention to governor williams and mr. connolly, with a request that i might be furnished, by the middle of january, with the means of conveyance for three persons, intending that mr. back and hepburn should accompany me, whilst dr. richardson and mr. hood remained till the spring at cumberland house. after the 20th of december the weather{13} became cold, the thermometer constantly below zero. christmas-day was particularly stormy; but the gale did not prevent the full enjoyment of the festivities which are annually given at cumberland house on this day. all the men who had been despatched to different parts in search of provision or furs returned to the fort on the occasion, and were regaled with a substantial dinner and a dance in the evening. 1820. jan. 1. the new year was ushered in by repeated discharges of musketry; a ceremony which has been observed by the men of both the trading companies for many years. our party dined with mr. connolly, and were treated with a beaver, which we found extremely delicate. in the evening his voyagers were entertained with a dance, in which the canadians exhibited some grace and much agility; and they contrived to infuse some portion of their activity and spirits into the steps of their female companions. the half-breed women are passionately fond of this amusement, but a stranger would imagine the contrary on witnessing their apparent want of animation. on such occasions they affect a sobriety of demeanour which i understand to be very opposite to their general character. _january 10_.--this day i wrote to governor williams and mr. connolly, requesting them to prepare two canoes, with crews and appointments, for the conveyance of dr. richardson and mr. hood, with our stores to chipewyan as soon as the navigation should open and had the satisfaction of receiving from both these gentlemen renewed assurances of their desire to promote the objects of the expedition. i conceived it to be necessary, previous to my departure, to make some arrangement respecting the men who were engaged at stromness. only one of them was disposed to extend his engagement, and proceed beyond the athabasca lake; and, as there was much uncertainty whether the remaining three could get from the athabasca to york factory sufficiently early to secure them a passage in the next hudson's bay ship, i resolved not to take them forward, unless dr. richardson and mr. hood should fail in procuring other men from these establishments next spring, but to despatch them down to york to bring up our stores to this place: after which they might return to the coast in time to secure their passage in the first ship. i delivered to dr. richardson and mr. hood a memorandum, containing the arrangements which had been made with the two companies, respecting their being forwarded in the spring, and some other points of instruction for their guidance in my absence; together with directions to forward the map of our route which had been finished, since our arrival, by mr. hood, the drawings and the collections of natural history, by the first opportunity to york factory, for conveyance to england[3]. [3] as samuel wilks, who had accompanied the expedition from england, proved to be quite unequal to the fatigue of the journey, i directed him to be discharged in the spring, and sent to england by the next ship. the houses of the two companies, at this post are situated close to each other, at the upper extremity of a narrow island, which separates pine island lake from the saskatchawan river, and are about two miles and three quarters from the latter in a northern direction. they are log-houses, built without much regard to comfort, surrounded by lofty stockades, and flanked with wooden bastions. the difficulty of conveying glass into the interior has precluded its use in the windows, where its place is poorly supplied by parchment, imperfectly made by the native women from the skin of the rein-deer. should this post, however, continue to be the residence of governor williams, it will be much improved in a few years, as he is devoting his attention to that point. the land around cumberland house is low, but the soil, from having a considerable intermixture of limestone, is good, and capable of producing abundance of corn, and vegetables of every description. many kinds of pot-herbs have already been brought to some perfection, and the potatoes bid fair to equal those of england. the spontaneous productions of nature would afford ample nourishment for all the european animals. horses feed extremely well even during the winter, and so would oxen if provided with hay, which might be easily done[4]. pigs also improve, but require to be kept warm in the winter. hence it appears, that the residents might easily render themselves far less dependent{14} on the indians for support, and be relieved from the great anxiety which they too often suffer when the hunters are unsuccessful. the neighbourhood of the houses has been much cleared of wood, from the great demand for fuel; there is, therefore, little to admire in the surrounding scenery, especially in its winter garb; few animated objects occur to enliven the scene; an occasional fox, marten, rabbit, or wolf, and a few birds, contribute the only variety. the birds which remained were ravens, magpies, partridges, cross bills, and woodpeckers. in this universal stillness, the residents at a post feel little disposed to wander abroad, except when called forth by their occupations; and as ours were of a kind best performed in a warm room, we imperceptibly acquired a sedentary habit. in going out, however, we never suffered the slightest inconvenience from the change of temperature, though the thermometer, in the open air, stood occasionally thirty degrees below zero. [4] "the wild buffalo scrapes away the snow with its feet to get at the herbage beneath, and the horse, which was introduced by the spanish invaders of mexico, and may be said to have become naturalized, does the same; but it is worthy of remark, that the ox more lately brought from europe, has not yet acquired an art so necessary for procuring its food."--(extract from dr. richardson's journal.) the tribe of indians, who reside in the vicinity, and frequent these establishments, is that of the crees, or knisteneaux. they were formerly a powerful and numerous nation, which ranged over a very extensive country, and were very successful in their predatory excursions against their neighbours, particularly the northern indians, and some tribes on the saskatchawan and beaver rivers; but they have long ceased to be held in any fear, and are now perhaps, the most harmless and inoffensive of the whole indian race. this change is entirely to be attributed to their intercourse with europeans; and the vast reduction in their numbers occasioned, i fear, principally, by the injudicious introduction of ardent spirits. they are so passionately fond of this poison, that they will make any sacrifice to obtain it. they are good hunters, and in general active. having laid the bow and arrow altogether aside, and the use of snares, except for rabbits and partridges, they depend entirely on the europeans for the means of gaining subsistence, as they require guns, and a constant supply of powder and shot; so that these indians are probably more completely under the power of the trader than any of the other tribes. as i only saw a few straggling parties of them during short intervals, and under unfavourable circumstances of sickness and famine, i am unable to give, from personal observation, any detail of their manners and customs; and must refer the reader, to dr. richardson's account of them, in the following chapter. that gentleman, during his longer residence at the post, had many opportunities of seeing them, and acquiring their language. _january 17_.--this morning the sporting part of our society had rather a novel diversion: intelligence having been brought that a wolf had borne away a steel trap, in which he had been caught, a party went in search of the marauder, and took two english bull dogs and a terrier, which had been brought into the country this season. on the first sight of the animal the dogs became alarmed, and stood barking at a distance, and probably would not have ventured to advance, had they not seen the wolf fall by a shot from one of the gentlemen; they then, however, went up, and behaved courageously, and were enraged by the bites they received. the wolf soon died of its wounds, and the body was brought to the house, where a drawing of it was taken by mr. hood, and the skin preserved by dr. richardson. its general features bore a strong resemblance to many of the dogs about the fort, but it was larger and had a more ferocious aspect. mr. back and i were too much occupied in preparing for our departure on the following day to join this excursion. the position of cumberland house, by our observations, is, latitude 53° 56' 40" n.; longitude 102° 16' 41" w., by the chronometers; variations 17° 17' 29" e.; dip of the needle, 83° 12' 50". the whole of the travelling distance between york factory and cumberland house is about six hundred and ninety miles. chapter iii. dr. richardson's residence at cumberland house--his account of the cree indians. 1820. january 19. from the departure of messrs. franklin and back, on the 19th of january, for chipewyan, until the opening of the navigation in the spring, the occurrences connected with the expedition were so much in the ordinary routine of a winter's residence at fort cumberland, that they may be, perhaps, appropriately blended with the following general but brief account of that district and its inhabitants. cumberland house was originally built by hearne, a year or two after his return from the copper-mine{15} river, and has ever since been considered by the hudson's bay company as a post of considerable importance. previous to that time, the natives carried their furs down to the shores of hudson's bay, or disposed of them nearer home to the french canadian traders, who visited this part of the country as early as the year 1697. the cumberland house district, extending about one hundred and fifty miles from east to west along the banks of the saskatchawan, and about as far from north to south, comprehends, on a rough calculation, upwards of twenty thousand square miles, and is frequented at present by about one hundred and twenty indian hunters. of these a few have several wives, but the majority only one; and, as some are unmarried, we shall not err greatly in considering the number of married women as only slightly exceeding that of the hunters. the women marry very young, have a custom of suckling their children for several years, and are besides exposed constantly to fatigue and often to famine; hence they are not prolific, bearing upon an average not more than four children, of whom two may attain the age of puberty. upon these data, the amount of each family may be stated at five, and the whole indian population in the district at five hundred. this is but a small population for such an extent of country, yet their mode of life occasionally subjects them to great privations. the winter of our residence at cumberland house proved extremely severe to the indians. the hooping-cough made its appearance amongst them in the autumn, and was followed by the measles, which in the course of the winter spread through the tribe. many died, and most of the survivors were so enfeebled as to be unable to pursue the necessary avocations of hunting and fishing. even those who experienced only a slight attack, or escaped the sickness altogether, dispirited by the scenes of misery which environed them, were rendered incapable of affording relief to their distressed relations, and spent their time in conjuring and drumming to avert the pestilence. those who were able came to the fort and received relief, but many who had retired with their families to distant corners, to pursue their winter hunts, experienced all the horrors of famine. one evening, early in the month of january, a poor indian entered the north-west company's house, carrying his only child in his arms, and followed by his starving wife. they had been hunting apart from the other bands, had been unsuccessful, and whilst in want were seized with the epidemical disease. an indian is accustomed to starve, and it is not easy to elicit from him an account of his sufferings. this poor man's story was very brief; as soon as the fever abated, he set out with his wife for cumberland house, having been previously reduced to feed on the bits of skin and offal, which remained about their encampment. even this miserable fare was exhausted, and they walked several days without eating, yet exerting themselves far beyond their strength that they might save the life of the infant. it died almost within sight of the house. mr. connolly, who was then in charge of the post, received them with the utmost humanity, and instantly placed food before them; but no language can describe the manner in which the miserable father dashed the morsel from his lips and deplored the loss of his child. misery may harden a disposition naturally bad, but it never fails to soften the heart of a good man. the _origin_ of the crees, to which nation the cumberland house indians belong, is, like that of the other aborigines of america, involved in obscurity; but the researches now making into the nature and affinities of the languages spoken by the different indian tribes, may eventually throw some light on the subject. indeed, the american philologists seem to have succeeded already in classing the known dialects into three languages:--1st. the floridean, spoken by the creeks, chickesaws, choctaws, cherokees, pascagoulas, and some other tribes, who inhabit the southern parts of the united states. 2d. the iroquois, spoken by the mengwe, or six nations, the wyandots, the nadowessies, and asseeneepoytuck. 3d. the lenni-lenapè, spoken by a great family more widely spread than the other two, and from which, together with a vast number of other tribes, are sprung our crees. mr. heckewelder, a missionary, who resided long amongst these people, and from whose paper, (published in the _transactions of the american philosophical society_,) the above classification is taken, states that the lenapè have a tradition amongst them, of their ancestors having come from the westward, and taken possession of the whole country from the missouri to the atlantic, after driving away or destroying the original inhabitants of the land, whom they termed alligewi. in this migration and contest, which endured for a series of years, the mengwe, or iroquois, kept pace with them, moving in a parallel but more northerly line, and finally settling on the banks of the st. lawrence, and the great lakes from whence it flows. the lenapè, being more numerous, peopled not only the greater part of the country at present occupied by the united states, but also sent detachments to the northward as far as the banks of the river mississippi{16} and the shores of hudson's bay. the principal of their northern tribes are now known under the names of saulteurs or chippeways, and crees; the former inhabiting the country betwixt lakes winipeg and superior, the latter frequenting the shores of hudson's bay, from moose to churchill, and the country from thence as far to the westward as the plains which lie betwixt the forks of the saskatchawan. these crees, formerly known by the french canadian traders under the appellation of knisteneaux, generally designate themselves as eithinyoowuc (_men_), or, when they wish to discriminate themselves from the other indian nations, as nathehwy-withinyoowuc (_southern-men_)[5]. [5] much confusion has arisen from the great variety of names, applied without discrimination to the various tribes of saulteurs and crees. heckewelder considers the crees of moose factory to be a branch of that tribe of the lenapè, which is named minsi, or wolf tribe. he has been led to form this opinion, from the similarity of the name given to these people by monsieur jeremie, namely, monsonies; but the truth is, that their real name is mongsoa-eythinyoowuc, or moose-deer indians; hence the name of the factory and river on which it is built. the name knisteneaux, kristeneaux, or killisteneaux, was anciently applied to a tribe of crees, now termed maskegons, who inhabit the river winipeg. this small tribe still retains the peculiarities of customs and dress, for which it was remarkable many years ago, as mentioned by mr. henry, in the interesting account of his journeys in these countries. they are said to be great rascals. the great body of the crees were at that time named opimmitish ininiwuc, or men of the woods. it would, however, be an endless task to attempt to determine the precise people designated by the early french writers. every small band, naming itself from its hunting-grounds, was described as a different nation. the chippeways who frequented the lake of the woods were named from a particular act of pillage--pilliers, or robbers: and the name saulteurs, applied to a principal band that frequented the sault st. marie, has been by degrees extended to the whole tribe. it is frequently pronounced and written _sotoos_. the original character of the crees must have been much modified by their long intercourse with europeans; hence it is to be understood, that we confine ourselves in the following sketch to their present condition, and more particularly to the crees of cumberland house. the moral character of a hunter is acted upon by the nature of the land he inhabits, the abundance or scarcity of food, and we may add, in the present case, his means of access to spirituous liquors. in a country so various in these respects as that inhabited by the crees, the causes alluded to must operate strongly in producing a considerable difference of character amongst the various hordes. it may be proper to bear in mind also, that we are about to draw the character of a people whose only rule of conduct is public opinion, and to try them by a morality founded on divine revelation, the only standard that can be referred to by those who have been educated in a land to which the blessings of the gospel have extended. bearing these considerations in mind then, we may state the crees to be a vain, fickle, improvident, and indolent race, and not very strict in their adherence to truth, being great boasters; but, on the other hand, they strictly regard the rights of property[6], are susceptible of the kinder affections, capable of friendship, very hospitable, tolerably kind to their women, and withal inclined to peace. [6] this is, perhaps, true of the cumberland house crees alone: many of the other tribes of crees are stated by the traders to be thieves. much of the faulty part of their character, no doubt, originates in their mode of life; accustomed as a hunter to depend greatly on chance for his subsistence, the cree takes little thought of to-morrow; and the most offensive part of his behaviour--the habit of boasting--has been probably assumed as a necessary part of his armour, which operates upon the fears of his enemies. they are countenanced, however, in this failing, by the practice of the ancient greeks, and perhaps by that of every other nation in its ruder state. every cree fears the medical or conjuring powers of his neighbour; but at the same time exalts his own attainments to the skies. "i am god-like," is a common expression amongst them, and they prove their divinity-ship by eating live coals, and by various tricks of a similar nature. a medicine bag is an indispensable part of a hunter's equipment. it is generally furnished with a little bit of indigo, blue vitriol, vermilion, or some other showy article; and is, when in the hands of a noted conjurer, such an object of terror to the rest of the tribe, that its possessor is enabled to fatten at his ease upon the labours of his deluded countrymen. a fellow of this description came to cumberland house in the winter of 1819. notwithstanding the then miserable state of the indians, the rapacity of this wretch had been preying upon their necessities, and a poor hunter was actually at the moment pining away under the influence of his threats. the mighty conjurer, immediately on his arrival at the house, began to trumpet forth his powers, boasting, among other things, that although his hands and feet were tied as securely as possible, yet when placed in a conjuring-house, he would speedily disengage himself by the aid of two or three familiar spirits, who were attendant on his call. he was instantly taken at his word; and that his exertions might not be without an aim, a _capot_ or great coat was promised as the reward of his success. a conjuring-house having been erected in the usual form, that is, by sticking four willows in the ground and tying their tops to a hoop at the height of six or eight feet, he was fettered completely by winding several fathoms of rope round his body and extremities, and placed in its narrow apartment, not exceeding two feet in diameter. a moose-skin being then thrown over the frame, secluded him from our view. he forthwith began to chant a kind of hymn in a very monotonous tone. the rest of the indians, who seemed in some doubt respecting the powers of a devil when put in competition with those of a white man, ranged themselves around and watched the result with anxiety. nothing remarkable occurred for a long time. the conjurer continued his song at intervals, and it was occasionally taken up by those without. in this manner an hour and a half elapsed; but at length our attention, which had begun to flag, was roused by the violent shaking of the conjuring-house. it was instantly whispered round the circle, that at least one devil had crept under the moose-skin. but it proved to be only the "god-like man" trembling with cold. he had entered the lists, stript to the skin, and the thermometer stood very low that evening. his attempts were continued, however, with considerable resolution for half an hour longer, when he reluctantly gave in. he had found no difficulty in slipping through the noose when it was formed by his countrymen; but, in the present instance, the knot was tied by governor williams, who is an expert sailor. after this unsuccessful exhibition his credit sunk amazingly, and he took the earliest opportunity of sneaking away from the fort. about two years ago a conjurer paid more dearly for his temerity. in a quarrel with an indian he threw out some obscure threats of vengeance which passed unnoticed at the time, but were afterwards remembered. they met in the spring at carlton house, after passing the winter in different parts of the country, during which the indian's child died. the conjurer had the folly to boast that he had caused its death, and the enraged father shot him dead on the spot. it may be remarked, however, that both these indians were inhabitants of the plains, and had been taught, by their intercourse with the turbulent stone indians, to set but comparatively little value on the life of a man. it might be thought that the crees have benefited by their long intercourse with civilized nations. that this is not so much the case as it ought to be, is not entirely their own fault. they are capable of being, and i believe willing to be, taught; but no pains have hitherto been taken to inform their minds[7], and their white acquaintances seem in general to find it easier to descend to the indian customs, and modes of thinking, particularly with respect to women, than to attempt to raise the indians to theirs. indeed such a lamentable want of morality has been displayed by the white traders in their contests for the interests of their respective companies, that it would require a long series of good conduct to efface from the minds of the native population the ideas they have formed of the white character. notwithstanding the frequent violations of the rights of property they have witnessed, and but too often experienced, in their own persons, these savages, as they are termed, remain strictly honest. during their visits to a post, they are suffered to enter every apartment in the house, without the least restraint, and although articles of value to them are scattered about, nothing is ever missed. they scrupulously avoid moving any thing from its place, although they are often prompted by curiosity to examine it. in some cases, indeed, they carry this principle to a degree of self-denial which would hardly be expected. it often happens that meat, which has been paid for, (if the poisonous draught it procures them can be considered as payment,) is left at their lodges until a convenient opportunity occurs of carrying it away. they will rather pass several days without eating than touch the meat thus intrusted to their charge, even when there exists a prospect of replacing it. [7] since these remarks were written the union of the rival companies has enabled the gentlemen, who have now the management of the fur trade, to take some decided steps for the religious instruction and improvement of the natives and half-breed indians, which have been more particularly referred to in the introduction. the hospitality of the crees is unbounded. they afford a certain asylum to the half-breed children when deserted by their unnatural white fathers; and the infirm, and indeed every individual in an encampment, share the provisions of a successful hunter as long as they last. fond too as a cree is of spirituous liquors, he is not happy unless all his neighbours partake with him. it is not easy, however, to say what share ostentation may have in the apparent munificence in the latter article; for when an indian, by a good hunt, is enabled to treat the others with a keg of rum, he becomes the chief of a night, assumes no little stateliness of manner, and is treated with deference by those who regale at his expense. prompted also by the desire of gaining a _name_, they lavish away the articles they purchase at the trading posts, and are well satisfied if repaid in praise. gaming is not uncommon amongst the crees of all the different districts, but it is pursued to greater lengths by those bands who frequent the plains, and who, from the ease with which they obtain food, have abundant leisure. the game most in use amongst them, termed _puckesann_, is played with the stones of a species of _prunus_ which, from this circumstance, they term _puckesann-meena_. the difficulty lies in guessing the number of stones which are tossed out of a small wooden dish, and the hunters will spend whole nights at the destructive sport, staking their most valuable articles, powder and shot. it has been remarked by some writers that the aboriginal inhabitants of america are deficient in passion for the fair sex. this is by no means the case with the crees; on the contrary, their practice of seducing each other's wives, proves the most fertile source of their quarrels. when the guilty pair are detected, the woman generally receives a severe beating, but the husband is, for the most part, afraid to reproach the male culprit until they get drunk together at the fort; then the remembrance of the offence is revived, a struggle ensues, and the affair is terminated by the loss of a few handfuls of hair. some husbands, however, feel more deeply the injury done to their honour, and seek revenge even in their sober moments. in such cases it is not uncommon for the offended party to walk with great gravity up to the other, and deliberately seizing his gun, or some other article of value to break it before his face. the adulterer looks on in silence, afraid to make any attempt to save his property. in this respect, indeed, the indian character seems to differ from the european, that an indian, instead of letting his anger increase with that of his antagonist, assumes the utmost coolness, lest he should push him to extremities. although adultery is sometimes punished amongst the crees in the manner above described, yet it is no crime, provided the husband receives a valuable consideration for his wife's prostitution. neither is chastity considered as a virtue in a female before marriage, that is, before she becomes the exclusive property of one hunter. the cree women are not in general treated harshly by their husbands, and possess considerable influence over them. they often eat, and even get drunk, in consort with the men; a considerable portion of the labour, however, falls to the lot of the wife. she makes the hut, cooks, dresses the skins, and for the most part, carries the heaviest load: but, when she is unable to perform her task, the husband does not consider it beneath his dignity to assist her. in illustration of this remark, i may quote the case of an indian who visited the fort in winter. this poor man's wife had lost her feet by the frost, and he was compelled, not only to hunt, and do all the menial offices himself, but in winter to drag his wife with their stock of furniture from one encampment to another. in the performance of this duty, as he could not keep pace with the rest of the tribe in their movements, he more than once nearly perished of hunger. these indians, however, capable as they are of behaving thus kindly, affect in their discourse to despise the softer sex, and on solemn occasions, will not suffer them to eat before them, or even come into their presence. in this they are countenanced by the white residents, most of whom have indian or half-breed wives, but seem afraid of treating them with the tenderness or attention due to every female, lest they should themselves be despised by the indians. at least, this is the only reason they assign for their neglect of those whom they make partners of their beds and mothers of their children. both sexes are fond of, and excessively indulgent to, their children. the father never punishes them, and if the mother, more hasty in her temper, sometimes bestows a blow or two on a troublesome child, her heart is instantly softened by the roar which follows, and she mingles her tears with those that streak the smoky face of her darling. it may be fairly said, then, that restraint or punishment forms no part of the education of an indian child, nor are they early trained to that command over their temper which they exhibit in after years. the discourse of the parents is never restrained by the presence of their children, every transaction between the sexes being openly talked of before them. the crees having early obtained arms from the european traders, were enabled to make harassing inroads on the lands of their neighbours, and are known to have made war excursions as far to the westward as the rocky mountains, and to the northward as far as mackenzie's{17} river; but their enemies being now as well armed as themselves, the case is much altered. they shew great fortitude in the endurance of hunger, and the other evils incident to a hunter's life; but any unusual accident dispirits them at once, and they seldom venture to meet their enemies in open warfare, or to attack them even by surprise, unless with the advantage of superiority of numbers. perhaps they are much deteriorated in this respect by their intercourse with europeans. their existence at present hangs upon the supplies of ammunition and clothing they receive from the traders, and they deeply feel their dependent{18} situation. but their character has been still more debased by the passion for spirituous liquors, so assiduously fostered among them. to obtain the noxious beverage, they descend to the most humiliating entreaties, and assume an abjectness of behaviour which does not seem natural to them, and of which not a vestige is to be seen in their intercourse with each other. their character has sunk among the neighbouring nations. they are no longer the warriors who drove before them the inhabitants of the saskatchawan, and missinippi. the cumberland house crees, in particular, have been long disused to war. betwixt them and their ancient enemies, the slave nations, lie the extensive plains of saskatchawan, inhabited by the powerful asseeneepoytuck, or stone indians, who having whilst yet a small tribe, entered the country under the patronage of the crees, now render back the protection they received. the manners and customs of the crees have, probably since their acquaintance with europeans, undergone a change, at least, equal to that which has taken place in their moral character; and, although we heard of many practices peculiar to them, yet they appeared to be nearly as much honoured in the breach as the observance. we shall however briefly notice a few of the most remarkable customs. when a hunter marries his first wife, he usually takes up his abode in the tent of his father-in-law, and of course hunts for the family; but when he becomes a father, the families are at liberty to separate, or remain together, as their inclinations prompt them. his second wife is for the most part the sister of the first, but not necessarily so, for an indian of another family often presses his daughter upon a hunter whom he knows to be capable of maintaining her well. the first wife always remains the mistress of the tent, and assumes an authority over the others, which is not in every case quietly submitted to. it may be remarked, that whilst an indian resides with his wife's family, it is extremely improper for his mother-in-law to speak, or even look at him; and when she has a communication to make, it is the etiquette that she should turn her back upon him, and address him only through the medium of a third person. this singular custom is not very creditable to the indians, if it really had its origin in the cause which they at present assign for it, namely, that a woman's speaking to her son-in-law is a sure indication of her having conceived a criminal affection for him. it appears also to have been an ancient practice for an indian to avoid eating or sitting down in the presence of the father-in-law. we received no account of the origin of this custom, and it is now almost obsolete amongst the cumberland house crees, though still partially observed by those who frequent carlton. tattooing is almost universal with the crees. the women are in general content with having one or two lines drawn from the corners of the mouth towards the angles of the lower jaw; but some of the men have their bodies covered with a great variety of lines and figures. it seems to be considered by most rather as a proof of courage than an ornament, the operation being very painful, and, if the figures are numerous and intricate, lasting several days. the lines on the face are formed by dexterously running an awl under the cuticle, and then drawing a cord, dipt in charcoal and water, through the canal thus formed. the punctures on the body are formed by needles of various sizes set in a frame. a number of hawk bells attached to this frame serve by their noise to cover the suppressed groans of the sufferer, and, probably for the same reason, the process is accompanied with singing. an indelible stain is produced by rubbing a little finely-powdered willow-charcoal into the punctures. a half-breed, whose arm i amputated, declared, that tattooing was not only the most painful operation of the two, but rendered infinitely more difficult to bear by its tediousness, having lasted in his case three days. a cree woman, at certain periods, is laid under considerable restraint. they are far, however, from carrying matters to the extremities mentioned by hearne in his description of the chipewyans, or northern indians. she lives apart from her husband also for two months if she has borne a boy, and for three if she has given birth to a girl. many of the cree hunters are careful to prevent a woman from partaking of the head of a moose-deer, lest it should spoil their future hunts; and for the same reason they avoid bringing it to a fort, fearing lest the white people should give the bones to the dogs. the games or sports of the crees are various. one termed the game of the mitten, is played with four balls, three of which are plain, and one marked. these being hid under as many mittens, the opposite party is required to fix on that which is marked. he gives or receives a feather according as he guesses right or wrong. when the feathers which are ten in number, have all passed into one hand, a new division is made; but when one of the parties obtains possession of them thrice, he seizes on the stakes. the game of platter is more intricate, and is played with the claws of a bear, or some other animal, marked with various lines and characters. these dice, which are eight in number, and cut flat at their large end, are shook together in a wooden dish, tossed into the air and caught again. the lines traced on such claws as happen to alight on the platter in an erect position, indicate what number of counters the caster is to receive from his opponent. they have, however, a much more manly amusement termed the _cross_, although they do not engage even in it without depositing considerable stakes. an extensive meadow is chosen for this sport, and the articles staked are tied to a post, or deposited in the custody of two old men. the combatants being stript and painted, and each provided with a kind of battledore or racket, in shape resembling the letter p, with a handle about two feet long and a head loosely wrought with net-work, so as to form a shallow bag, range themselves on different sides. a ball being now tossed up in the middle, each party endeavours to drive it to their respective goals, and much dexterity and agility is displayed in the contest. when a nimble runner gets the ball in his cross, he sets off towards the goal with the utmost speed, and is followed by the rest, who endeavour to jostle him and shake it out; but, if hard pressed, he discharges it with a jerk, to be forwarded by his own party, or bandied back by their opponents, until the victory is decided by its passing the goal. of the religious opinions of the crees, it is difficult to give a correct account, not only because they shew a disinclination to enter upon the subject, but because their ancient traditions are mingled with the information they have more recently obtained, by their intercourse with europeans. none of them ventured to describe the original formation of the world, but they all spoke of an universal deluge, caused by an attempt of the fish to drown woesack-ootchacht, a kind of demigod, with whom they had quarrelled. having constructed a raft, he embarked with his family and all kinds of birds and beasts. after the flood had continued for some time, he ordered several water-fowl to dive to the bottom; they were all drowned: but a musk-rat having been despatched on the same errand, was more successful, and returned with a mouthful of mud, out of which woesack-ootchacht, imitating the mode in which the rats construct their houses, formed a new earth. first, a small conical hill of mud appeared above the water; by-and-by its base gradually spreading out, it became an extensive bank, which the rays of the sun at length hardened into firm land. notwithstanding the power that woesack-ootchacht here displayed, his person is held in very little reverence by the indians; and, in return, he seizes every opportunity of tormenting them. his conduct is far from being moral, and his amours, and the disguises he assumes in the prosecution of them, are more various and extraordinary than those of the grecian jupiter himself; but as his adventures are more remarkable for their eccentricity than their delicacy, it is better to pass them over in silence. before we quit him, however, we may remark, that he converses with all kinds of birds and beasts in their own languages, constantly addressing them by the title of brother, but through an inherent suspicion of his intentions, they are seldom willing to admit of his claims of relationship. the indians make no sacrifices to him, not even to avert his wrath. they pay a kind of worship, however, and make offerings to a being, whom they term _kepoochikawn_. this deity is represented sometimes by rude images of the human figure, but more commonly merely by tying the tops of a few willow bushes together; and the offerings to him consist of every thing that is valuable to an indian; yet they treat him with considerable familiarity, interlarding their most solemn speeches with expostulations and threats of neglect, if he fails in complying with their requests. as most of their petitions are for plenty of food, they do not trust entirely to the favour of kepoochikawn, but endeavour, at the same time, to propitiate the _animal_, an imaginary representative of the whole race of larger quadrupeds that are objects of the chase. in the month of may, whilst i was at carlton house, the cree hunter engaged to attend that post, resolved upon dedicating several articles to kepoochikawn, and as i had made some inquiries of him respecting their modes of worship, he gave me an invitation to be present. the ceremony took place in a sweating-house, or as it may be designated from its more important use, a _temple_, which was erected for the occasion by the worshipper's two wives. it was framed of arched willows, interlaced so as to form a vault capable of containing ten or twelve men, ranged closely side by side, and high enough to admit of their sitting erect. it was very similar in shape to an oven or the kraal of a hottentot, and was closely covered with moose skins, except at the east end, which was left open for a door. near the centre of the building there was a hole in the ground, which contained ten or twelve red-hot stones, having a few leaves of the _taccokay-menan_, a species of _prunus_, strewed around them. when the women had completed the preparations, the hunter made his appearance, perfectly naked, carrying in his hand an image of kepoochikawn, rudely carved, and about two feet long. he placed his god at the upper end of the sweating-house, with his face towards the door, and proceeded to tie round its neck his offerings, consisting of a cotton handkerchief, a looking-glass, a tin pan, a piece of riband, and a bit of tobacco, which he had procured the same day, at the expense of fifteen or twenty skins. whilst he was thus occupied, several other crees, who were encamped in the neighbourhood, having been informed of what was going on, arrived, and stripping at the door of the temple, entered, and ranged themselves on each side; the hunter himself squatted down at the right hand of kepoochikawn. the atmosphere of the temple having become so hot that none but zealous worshippers would venture in, the interpreter and myself sat down on the threshold, and the two women remained on the outside as attendants. the hunter, who throughout officiated as high priest, commenced by making a speech to kepoochikawn, in which he requested him to be propitious, told him of the value of the things now presented, and cautioned him against ingratitude. this oration was delivered in a monotonous tone, and with great rapidity of utterance, and the speaker retained his squatting posture, but turned his face to his god. at its conclusion, the priest began a hymn, of which the burthen was, "i will walk with god, i will go with the animal;" and, at the end of each stanza, the rest joined in an insignificant chorus. he next took up a calumet, filled with a mixture of tobacco and bear-berry leaves, and holding its stem by the middle, in a horizontal position, over the hot stones, turned it slowly in a circular manner, following the course of the sun. its mouth-piece being then with much formality, held for a few seconds to the face of kepoochikawn, it was next presented to the earth, having been previously turned a second time over the hot stones; and afterwards, with equal ceremony, pointed in succession to the four quarters of the sky; then drawing a few whiffs from the calumet himself, he handed it to his left-hand neighbour, by whom it was gravely passed round the circle; the interpreter and myself, who were seated at the door, were asked to partake in our turn, but requested to keep the head of the calumet within the threshold of the sweating-house. when the tobacco was exhausted by passing several times round, the hunter made another speech, similar to the former; but was, if possible, still more urgent in his requests. a second hymn followed, and a quantity of water being sprinkled on the hot stones, the attendants were ordered to close the temple, which they did, by very carefully covering it up with moose skins. we had no means of ascertaining the temperature of the sweating-house; but before it was closed, not only those within, but also the spectators without, were perspiring freely. they continued in the vapour bath for thirty-five minutes, during which time a third speech was made, and a hymn was sung, and water occasionally sprinkled on the stones, which still retained much heat, as was evident from the hissing noise they made. the coverings were then thrown off, and the poor half-stewed worshippers exposed freely to the air; but they kept their squatting postures until a fourth speech was made, in which the deity was strongly reminded of the value of the gifts, and exhorted to take an early opportunity of shewing his gratitude. the ceremony concluded by the sweaters scampering down to the river, and plunging into the stream. it may be remarked, that the door of the temple, and, of course, the face of the god, was turned to the rising sun; and the spectators were desired not to block up entirely the front of the building, but to leave a lane for the entrance or exit of some influence of which they could not give me a correct description. several indians, who lay on the outside of the sweating-house as spectators, seemed to regard the proceedings with very little awe, and were extremely free in the remarks and jokes they passed upon the condition of the sweaters, and even of kepoochikawn himself. one of them made a remark, that the shawl would have been much better bestowed upon himself than upon kepoochikawn, but the same fellow afterwards stripped and joined in the ceremony. i did not learn that the indians worship any other god by a specific name. they often refer, however, to the keetchee-maneeto, or great master of life; and to an evil spirit, or maatche-maneeto. they also speak of weettako, a kind of vampyre or devil, into which those who have fed on human flesh are transformed. whilst at carlton, i took an opportunity of asking a communicative old indian, of the blackfoot nation, his opinion of a future state; he replied, that they had heard from their fathers, that the souls of the departed have to scramble with great labour up the sides of a steep mountain, upon attaining the summit of which they are rewarded with the prospect of an extensive plain, abounding in all sorts of game, and interspersed here and there with new tents, pitched in agreeable{19} situations. whilst they are absorbed in the contemplation of this delightful scene, they are descried by the inhabitants of the happy land, who, clothed in new skin-dresses, approach and welcome with every demonstration of kindness those indians who have led good lives; but the bad indians, who have imbrued their hands in the blood of their countrymen, are told to return from whence they came, and without more ceremony precipitated down the steep sides of the mountain. women, who have been guilty of infanticide, never reach the mountain at all, but are compelled to hover round the seats of their crimes, with branches of trees tied to their legs. the melancholy sounds, which are heard in the still summer evenings, and which the ignorance of the white people considers as the screams of the goat-sucker, are really, according to my informant, the moanings of these unhappy beings. the crees have somewhat similar notions, but as they inhabit a country widely different from the mountainous lands of the blackfoot indians, the difficulty of their journey lies in walking along a slender and slippery tree, laid as a bridge across a rapid stream of stinking and muddy water. the night owl is regarded by the crees with the same dread that it has been viewed by other nations. one small species, which is, known to them by its melancholy nocturnal hootings, (for as it never appears in the day, few even of the hunters have ever seen it,) is particularly ominous. they call it the _cheepai-peethees_, or death bird, and never fail to whistle when they hear its note. if it does not reply to the whistle by its hootings, the speedy death of the inquirer is augured. when a cree dies, that part of his property which he has not given away before his death, is burned with him, and his relations take care to place near the grave little heaps of fire-wood, food, pieces of tobacco, and such things as he is likely to need in his journey. similar offerings are made when they revisit the grave, and as kettles, and other articles of value, are sometimes offered, they are frequently carried off by passengers, yet the relations are not displeased, provided sufficient respect has been shewn to the dead, by putting some other article, although of inferior value, in the place of that which has been taken away. the crees are wont to celebrate the returns of the seasons by religious festivals, but we are unable to describe the ceremonial in use on these joyous occasions from personal observation. the following brief notice of a feast, which was given by an old cree chief, according to his annual custom, on the first croaking of the frogs, is drawn up from the information of one of the guests. a large oblong tent, or lodge, was prepared for the important occasion, by the men of the party, none of the women being suffered to interfere. it faced the setting sun, and great care was taken that every thing about it should be as neat and clean as possible. three fire-places were raised within it, at equal distances, and little holes were dug in the corners to contain the ashes of their pipes. in a recess, at its upper end, one large image of kepoochikawn, and many smaller ones, were ranged with their faces towards the door. the food was prepared by the chief's wife, and consisted of _marrow_ pemmican, berries boiled with fat, and various other delicacies that had been preserved for the occasion. the preparations being completed, and a slave, whom the chief had taken in war, having warned the guests to the feast by the mysterious word _peenasheway_, they came, dressed out in their best garments, and ranged themselves according to their seniority, the elders seating themselves next the chief at the upper end, and the young men near the door. the chief commenced by addressing his deities in an appropriate speech, in which he told them, that he had hastened as soon as summer was indicated by the croaking of the frogs to solicit their favour for himself and his young men, and hoped that they would send him a pleasant and plentiful season. his oration was concluded by an invocation to all the animals in the land, and a signal being given to the slave at the door, he invited them severally by their names to come and partake of the feast. the cree chief having by this very general invitation displayed his unbounded hospitality, next ordered one of the young men to distribute a mess to each of the guests. this was done in new dishes of birch bark, and the utmost diligence was displayed in emptying them, it being considered extremely improper in a man to leave any part of that which is placed before him on such occasions. it is not inconsistent with good manners, however, but rather considered as a piece of politeness, that a guest who has been too liberally supplied, should hand the surplus to his neighbour. when the viands had disappeared, each filled his calumet and began to smoke with great assiduity, and in the course of the evening several songs were sung to the responsive sounds of the drum, and seeseequay, their usual accompaniments. the cree drum is double-headed, but possessing very little depth, it strongly resembles a tambourine in shape. its want of depth is compensated, however, by its diameter, which frequently exceeds three feet. it is covered with moose-skin parchment, painted with rude figures of men and beasts, having various fantastic additions, and is beat with a stick. the seeseequay is merely a rattle, formed by enclosing a few grains of shot in a piece of dried hide. these two instruments are used in all their religious ceremonies, except those which take place in a sweating-house. a cree places great reliance on his drum, and i cannot adduce a stronger instance than that of the poor man who is mentioned in a preceding page, as having lost his only child by famine, almost within sight of the fort. notwithstanding his exhausted state, he travelled with an enormous drum tied to his back. many of the crees make vows to abstain from particular kinds of food, either for a specific time, or for the remainder of their life, esteeming such abstinence to be a certain means of acquiring some supernatural powers, or at least of entailing upon themselves a succession of good fortune. one of the wives of the carlton hunter, of whom we have already spoken as the worshipper of kepoochikawn, made a determination not to eat of the flesh of the wawaskeesh, or american stag; but during our abode at that place, she was induced to feed heartily upon it, through the intentional deceit of her husband, who told her that it was buffalo meat. when she had finished her meal, her husband told her of the trick, and seemed to enjoy the terror with which she contemplated the consequences of the involuntary breach of her vow. vows of this nature are often made by a cree before he joins a war party, and they sometimes, like the eastern bonzes, walk for a certain number of days on all fours, or impose upon themselves some other penance, equally ridiculous. by such means the cree warrior becomes _godlike_; but unless he kills an enemy before his return, his newly-acquired powers are estimated to be productive in future of some direful consequence to himself. as we did not witness any of the cree dances ourselves, we shall merely mention, that like the other north american nations, they are accustomed to practise that amusement on meeting with strange tribes, before going to war, and on other solemn occasions. the habitual intoxication of the cumberland house crees has induced such a disregard of personal appearance, that they are squalid and dirty in the extreme; hence a minute description of their clothing would be by no means interesting. we shall, therefore, only remark in a general manner that the dress of the male consists of a blanket thrown over the shoulders, a leathern shirt or jacket, and a piece of cloth tied round the middle. the women have in addition a long petticoat; and both sexes wear a kind of wide hose, which reaching from the ankle to the middle of the thigh, are suspended by strings to the girdle. these hose, or as they are termed, _indian stockings_, are commonly ornamented with beads or ribands, and from their convenience, have been universally adopted by the white residents, as an essential part of their winter clothing. their shoes, or rather short boots, for they tie round the ankle, are made of soft dressed moose-skins, and during the winter they wrap several pieces of blanket round their feet. they are fond of european articles of dress, considering it as mean to be dressed entirely in leather, and the hunters are generally furnished annually with a _capot_ or great coat, and the women with shawls, printed calicoes, and other things very unsuitable to their mode of life, but which they wear in imitation of the wives of the traders; all these articles, however showy they may be at first, are soon reduced to a very filthy condition by the indian custom of greasing the face and hair with soft fat or marrow, instead of washing them with water. this practice they say preserves the skin soft, and protects it from cold in the winter, and the moschetoes in summer, but it renders their presence disagreeable to the olfactory organs of an european, particularly when they are seated in a close tent and near a hot fire. the only peculiarity which we observed, in their mode of rearing children consists in the use of a sort of cradle, extremely well adapted to their mode of life. the infant is placed in the bag having its lower extremities wrapt up in soft sphagnum or bog-moss, and may be hung up in the tent, or to the branch of a tree, without the least danger of tumbling out; or in a journey suspended on the mother's back, by a band which crosses the forehead, so as to leave her hands perfectly free. it is one of the neatest articles of furniture they possess, being generally ornamented with beads, and bits of scarlet cloth, but it bears a very strong resemblance in its form to a mummy case. the sphagnum in which the child is laid, forms a soft elastic bed, which absorbs moisture very readily, and affords such a protection from the cold of a rigorous winter, that its place would be ill supplied by cloth. the mothers are careful to collect a sufficient quantity in autumn for winter use; but when through accident their stock fails, they have recourse to the soft down of the typha, or reed mace, the dust of rotten wood, or even feathers, although none of these articles are so cleanly, or so easily changed as the sphagnum. the above is a brief sketch of such parts of the manners, character and customs of the crees, as we could collect from personal observation, or from the information of the most intelligent half-breeds we met with; and we shall merely add a few remarks on the manner in which the trade is conducted at the different inland posts of the fur companies. the standard of exchange in all mercantile transactions with the natives is a beaver skin, the relative value of which, as originally established by the traders, differs considerably from the present worth of the articles it represents; but the indians are averse to change. three marten, eight musk-rat, or a single lynx, or wolverene skin, are equivalent to one beaver; a silver fox, white fox, or otter, are reckoned two beavers, and a black fox, or large black bear, are equal to four; a mode of reckoning which has very little connexion with the real value of these different furs in the european market. neither has any attention been paid to the original cost of european articles, in fixing the tariff by which they are sold to the indians. a coarse butcher's knife is one skin, a woollen blanket or a fathom of coarse cloth, eight, and a fowling-piece fifteen. the indians receive their principal outfit of clothing and ammunition on credit in the autumn, to be repaid by their winter hunts; the amount intrusted to each of the hunters, varying with their reputations for industry and skill, from twenty to one hundred and fifty skins. the indians are generally anxious to pay off the debt thus incurred, but their good intentions are often frustrated by the arts of the rival traders. each of the companies keeps men constantly employed travelling over the country during the winter, to collect the furs from the different bands of hunters as fast as they are procured. the poor indian endeavours to behave honestly, and when he has gathered a few skins sends notice to the post from whence he procured his supplies, but if discovered in the mean time by the opposite party, he is seldom proof against the temptation to which he is exposed. however firm he may be in his denials at first, his resolutions are enfeebled by the sight of a little rum, and when he has tasted the intoxicating beverage, they vanish like smoke, and he brings forth his store of furs, which he has carefully concealed from the scrutinizing eyes of his visitors. this mode of carrying on the trade not only causes the amount of furs, collected by either of the two companies, to depend more upon the activity of their agents, the knowledge they possess of the motions of the indians, and the quantity of rum they carry, than upon the liberality of the credits they give, but is also productive of an increasing deterioration of the character of the indians, and will probably, ultimately prove destructive to the fur trade itself. indeed the evil has already, in part, recoiled upon the traders; for the indians, long deceived, have become deceivers in their turn, and not unfrequently after having incurred a heavy debt at one post, move off to another, to play the same game. in some cases the rival posts have entered into a mutual agreement, to trade only with the indians they have respectively fitted out; but such treaties, being seldom rigidly adhered to, prove a fertile subject for disputes, and the differences have been more than once decided by force of arms. to carry on the contest, the two companies are obliged to employ a great many servants, whom they maintain often with much difficulty, and always at a considerable expense[8]. [8] as the contending parties have united, the evils mentioned in this and the two preceding pages, are now, in all probability, at an end. there are thirty men belonging to the hudson's bay fort at cumberland, and nearly as many women and children. the inhabitants of the north west company's house are still more numerous. these large families are fed during the greatest part of the year on fish, which are principally procured at beaver lake, about fifty miles distant. the fishery commencing with the first frosts in autumn, continues abundant, till january, and the produce is dragged over the snow on sledges, each drawn by three dogs, and carrying about two hundred and fifty pounds. the journey to and from the lake occupies five days, and every sledge requires a driver. about three thousand fish, averaging three pounds a piece, were caught by the hudson's bay fishermen last season; in addition to which a few sturgeon were occasionally caught in pine island lake; and towards the spring a considerable quantity of moose meat was procured from the basquiau hill, sixty or seventy miles distant. the rest of our winter's provision consisted of geese, salted in the autumn, and of dried meats and pemmican, obtained from the provision posts on the plains of the saskatchawan. a good many potatoes are also raised at this post, and a small supply of tea and sugar is brought from the depôt at york factory. the provisions obtained from these various sources were amply sufficient in the winter of 1819-20; but through improvidence this post has in former seasons been reduced to great straits. many of the labourers, and a great majority of the agents and clerks employed by the two companies, have indian or half-breed wives, and the mixed offspring thus produced has become extremely numerous. these métifs, or as the canadians term them, _bois brulés_, are upon the whole a good looking people, and where the experiment has been made, have shewn much aptness in learning, and willingness to be taught; they have, however, been sadly neglected. the example of their fathers has released them from the restraint imposed by the indian opinions of good and bad behaviour; and generally speaking, no pains have been taken to fill the void with better principles. hence it is not surprising that the males, trained up in a high opinion of the authority and rights of the company to which their fathers belonged, and unacquainted with the laws of the civilized world, should be ready to engage in any measure whatever, that they are prompted to believe will forward the interests of the cause they espouse. nor that the girls, taught a certain degree of refinement by the acquisition of an european language, should be inflamed by the unrestrained discourse of their indian relations, and very early give up all pretensions to chastity. it is, however, but justice to remark, that there is a very decided difference in the conduct of the children of the orkney men employed by the hudson's bay company and those of the canadian voyagers. some trouble is occasionally bestowed in teaching the former, and it is not thrown away; but all the good that can be said of the latter is, that they are not quite so licentious as their fathers are. many of the half-breeds, both male and female, are brought up amongst, and intermarry with, the indians; and there are few tents wherein the paler children of such marriages are not to be seen. it has been remarked, i do not know with what truth, that half-breeds shew more personal courage than the pure crees[9]. [9] a singular change takes place in the physical constitution of the indian females who become inmates of a fort; namely, they bear children more frequently and longer, but, at the same time, are rendered liable to indurations of the mammæ and prolapsus of the uterus; evils from which they are, in a great measure, exempt whilst they lead a wandering and laborious life. the girls at the forts, particularly the daughters of canadians, are given in marriage very young; they are very frequently wives at twelve years of age, and mothers at fourteen. nay, more than once instance came under our observation of the master of a post having permitted a voyager to take to wife a poor child that had scarcely attained the age of ten years. the masters of posts and wintering partners of the companies deemed this criminal indulgence to the vices of their servants, necessary to stimulate them to exertion for the interest of their respective concerns. another practice may also be noticed, as shewing the state of moral feeling on these subjects amongst the white residents of the fur countries. it was not very uncommon, amongst the canadian voyagers, for one woman to be common to, and maintained at the joint expense of, two men; nor for a voyager to sell his wife, either for a season or altogether, for a sum of money, proportioned to her beauty and good qualities, but always inferior to the price of a team of dogs. the country around cumberland house is flat and swampy, and is much intersected by small lakes. limestone is found every where under a thin stratum of soil, and it not unfrequently shows itself above the surface. it lies in strata generally horizontal, but in one spot near the fort, dipping to the northward at an angle of 40°. some portions of this rock contain very perfect shells. with respect to the vegetable productions of the district the _populus trepida_, or aspen, which thrives in moist situations, is perhaps the most abundant tree on the banks of the saskatchawan, and is much prized as fire-wood, burning well when cut green. the _populus balsamifera_, or taccamahac, called by the crees _matheh meteos_, or ugly poplar, in allusion to its rough bark and naked stem, crowned in an aged state with a few distorted branches, is scarcely less plentiful. it is an inferior fire-wood, and does not burn well, unless when cut in the spring, and dried during the summer; but it affords a great quantity of potash. a decoction of its resinous buds has been sometimes used by the indians with success in cases of _snow-blindness_, but its application to the inflamed eye produces much pain. of pines, the white spruce is the most common here: the red and black spruce, the balsam of gilead fir, and banksian pine, also occur frequently. the larch is found only in swampy spots, and is stunted and unhealthy. the canoe birch attains a considerable size in this latitude, but from the great demand for its wood to make sledges, it has become rare. the alder abounds on the margin of the little grassy lakes, so common in the neighbourhood. a decoction of its inner bark is used as an emetic by the indians, who also extract from it a yellow dye. a great variety of willows occur on the banks of the streams; and the hazel is met with sparingly in the woods. the sugar maple, elm, ash, and the _arbor vitæ_[10], termed by the canadian voyagers _cedar_, grow on various parts of the saskatchawan; but that river seems to form their northern boundary. two kinds of prunus also grow here, one of which[11], a handsome small tree, produces a black fruit, having a very astringent taste, whence the term _choke-cherry_ applied to it. the crees call it _tawquoy-meena_, and esteemed it to be when dried and bruised a good addition to pemmican. the other species[12] is a less elegant shrub, but is said to bear a bright red cherry, of a pleasant sweet taste. its cree name is _passee-awey-meenan_, and it is known to occur as far north as great slave lake. [10] thuya occidentalis. [11] prunus virginiana. [12] prunus pensylvanica. the most esteemed fruit of the country, however, is the produce of the _aronia ovalis_. under the name of _meesasscootoomeena_ it is a favourite dish at most of the indian feasts, and mixed with pemmican, it renders that greasy food actually palatable. a great variety of currants and gooseberries are also mentioned by the natives, under the name of _sappoom-meena_, but we only found three species in the neighbourhood of cumberland house. the strawberry, called by the crees _otei-meena_, or heart-berry, is found in abundance, and rasps are common on the sandy banks of the rivers. the fruits hitherto mentioned fall in the autumn, but the following berries remained hanging on the bushes in the spring, and are considered as much mellowed by exposure to the colds in winter. the red whortleberry (_vaccinium vitis idea_) is found every where, but is most abundant in rocky places. it is aptly termed by the crees _weesawgum-meena_, sour berry. the common cranberry (_oxycoccos palustris_,) is distinguished from the preceding by its growing on moist sphagnous spots, and is hence called _maskoego-meena_ swamp-berry. the american guelder rose, whose fruit so strongly resembles the cranberry, is also common. there are two kinds of it, (_viburnum oxycoccos_{20}, and _edule_,) one termed by the natives _peepoon-meena_, winter-berry, and the other _mongsoa-meena_, moose-berry. there is also a berry of a bluish white colour, the produce of the white cornel tree, which is named _musqua-meena_, bear-berry, because these animals are said to fatten on it. the dwarf canadian cornel, bears a corymb of red berries, which are highly ornamental to the woods throughout the country, but are not otherwise worthy of notice, for they have an insipid farinaceous taste, and are seldom gathered. the crees extract some beautiful colours from several of their native vegetables. they dye their porcupine quills a beautiful scarlet, with the roots of two species of bed-straw (galium tinctorium, and boreale) which they indiscriminately term _sawoyan_. the roots, after being carefully washed are boiled gently in a clean copper kettle, and a quantity of the juice of the moose-berry, strawberry, cranberry, or arctic raspberry, is added together with a few red tufts of pistils of the larch. the porcupine quills are plunged into the liquor before it becomes quite cold, and are soon tinged of a beautiful scarlet. the process sometimes fails, and produces only a dirty brown, a circumstance which ought probably to be ascribed to the use of an undue quantity of acid. they dye black with an ink made of elder bark, and a little bog-iron-ore, dried and pounded, and they have various modes of producing yellow. the deepest colour is obtained from the dried root of a plant, which from their description appears to be the cow-bane (_cicuta virosa_.) an inferior colour is obtained from the bruised buds of the dutch myrtle, and they have discovered methods of dyeing with various lichens. the quadrupeds that are hunted for food in this part of the country, are the moose and the rein-deer, the former termed by the crees, _mongsoa_, or _moosoa_; the latter _attekh_. the buffalo or bison, (_moostoosh_,) the red-deer or american-stag, (_wawaskeeshoo_,) the _apeesee-mongsoos_, or jumping deer, the _kinwaithoos_, or long-tailed deer, and the _apistatchækoos_, a species of antelope; animals that frequent the plains above the forks of the saskatchawan, are not found in the neighbourhood of cumberland house. of fur-bearing animals, various kinds of foxes (_makkeeshewuc_,) are found in the district, distinguished by the traders under the names of _black_, _silver_, _cross_, _red_, and _blue_ foxes. the two former are considered by the indians to be the same kind, varying accidentally in the colour of the pelt. the black foxes are very rare, and fetch a high price. the cross and red foxes differ from each other only in colour, being of the same shape and size. their shades of colour are not disposed in any determinate manner, some individuals approaching in that respect very nearly to the silver fox, others exhibiting every link of the chain down to a nearly uniform deep or orange-yellow, the distinguishing colour of a pure red fox. it is reported both by indians and traders, that all the varieties have been found in the same litter. the blue fox is seldom seen here, and is supposed to come from the southward. the gray wolf (_mahaygan_) is common here. in the month of march the females frequently entice the domestic dog from the forts, although at other seasons a strong antipathy seemed to subsist between them. some black wolves are occasionally seen. the black and red varieties of the american bear (_musquah_) are also found near cumberland house, though not frequently; a black bear often has red cubs, and _vice versâ_. the grizzly bear, so much dreaded by the indians for its strength and ferocity, inhabits a track of country nearer the rocky mountains. it is extraordinary that although i made inquiries extensively amongst the indians, i met with but one who said that he had killed a she-bear with young in the womb. the wolverene, in cree _okeekoohawgees_, or _ommeethatsees_, is an animal of great strength and cunning, and is much hated by the hunters, on account of the mischief it does to their marten-traps. the canadian lynx (_peeshew_) is a timid but well-armed animal, which preys upon the american hare. its fur is esteemed. the marten (_wapeestan_,) is one of the most common furred animals in the country. the fisher, notwithstanding its name, is an inhabitant of the land, living like the common marten principally on mice. it is the _otchoek_ of the crees, and the _pekan_ of the canadians. the mink, (_atjackash_,) has been often confounded by writers with the fisher. it is a much smaller animal, inhabits the banks of rivers, and swims well; its prey is fish. the otter, (_neekeek_,) is larger than the english species, and produces a much more valuable fur. the musk rat (_watsuss_, or _musquash_,) is very abundant in all the small grassy lakes. they build small conical houses with a mixture of hay and earth; those which build early raising their houses on the mud of the marshes, and those which build later in the season founding their habitations upon the surface of the ice itself. the house covers a hole in the ice, which permits them to go into the water in search of the roots on which they feed. in severe winters when the small lakes are frozen to the bottom, and these animals cannot procure their usual food, they prey upon each other. in this way great numbers are destroyed. the beaver (_ammisk_) furnish the staple fur of the country. many surprising stories have been told of the sagacity with which this animal suits the form of its habitation, retreats, and dam, to local circumstances; and i compared the account of its manners, given by cuvier, in his _régne animal_, with the reports of the indians, and found them to agree exactly. they have been often seen in the act of constructing their houses in the moon-light nights, and the observers agree, that the stones, wood, or other materials, are carried in their teeth, and generally leaning against the shoulder. when they have placed it to their mind, they turn round and give it a smart blow with their flat tail. in the act of diving they give a similar stroke to the surface of the water. they keep their provision of wood under water in front of the house. their favourite food is the bark of the aspen, birch, and willow; they also eat the alder, but seldom touch any of the pine tribe unless from necessity; they are fond of the large roots of the _nuphar lutea_, and grow fat upon it, but it gives their flesh a strong rancid taste. in the season of love their call resembles a groan, that of the male being the hoarsest, but the voice of the young is exactly like the cry of a child. they are very playful, as the following anecdote will shew:--one day a gentleman, long resident in this country, espied five young beavers sporting in the water, leaping upon the trunk of a tree, pushing one another off, and playing a thousand interesting tricks. he approached softly under cover of the bushes, and prepared to fire on the unsuspecting creatures, but a nearer approach discovered to him such a similitude betwixt their gestures and the infantile caresses of his own children, that he threw aside his gun. this gentleman's feelings are to be envied, but few traders in fur would have acted so feelingly. the musk-rat frequently inhabits the same lodge with the beaver, and the otter also thrusts himself in occasionally; the latter, however, is not always a civil guest, as he sometimes devours his host. these are the animals most interesting in an economical point of view. the american hare, and several kinds of grouse and ptarmigan, also contribute towards the support of the natives; and the geese, in their periodical flights in the spring and autumn, likewise prove a valuable resource both to the indians and white residents; but the principal article of food, after the moose-deer, is fish; indeed, it forms almost the sole support of the traders at some of the posts. the most esteemed fish is the coregonus albus, the _attihhawmeg_ of the crees, and the _white-fish_ of the americans. its usual weight is between three and four pounds, but it has been known to reach sixteen or eighteen pounds. three fish of the ordinary size is the daily allowance to each man at the fort, and is considered as equivalent to two geese, or eight pounds of solid moose-meat. the fishery for the attihhawmeg lasts the whole year, but is most productive in the spawning season, from the middle of september to the middle of october. the _ottonneebees_, (coregonus artedi,) closely resembles the last. three species of carp, (catastomus hudsonius, c. forsterianus, and c. lesueurii,) are also found abundantly in all the lakes, their cree names are _namaypeeth_, _meethquawmaypeeth_, and _wapawhawkeeshew_. the _occow_, or river perch, termed also horn-fish, piccarel, or doré, is common, but is not so much esteemed as the attihhawmeg. it attains the length of twenty inches in these lakes. the methy is another common fish; it is the _gadus lota_, or burbot, of europe. its length is about two feet, its gullet is capacious, and it preys upon fish large enough to distend its body to nearly twice its proper size. it is never eaten, not even by the dogs unless through necessity, but its liver and roe are considered as delicacies. the pike is also plentiful, and being readily caught in the winter-time with the hook, is so much prized on that account by the natives, as to receive from them the name of _eithinyoo-cannooshoeoo_, or indian fish. the common trout, or _nammoecous_, grows here to an enormous size, being caught in particular lakes, weighing upwards of sixty pounds; thirty pounds is no uncommon size at beaver lake, from whence cumberland house is supplied. the hioden clodalis, _oweepeetcheesees_, or gold-eye is a beautiful small fish, which resembles the trout, in its habits. one of the largest fish is the _mathemegh_, catfish, or _barbue_. it belongs to the genus _silurus_. it is rare but is highly prized as food. the sturgeon (accipenser ruthenus) is also taken in the saskatchawan, and lakes communicating with it, and furnishes an excellent, but rather rich, article of food. chapter iv. leave cumberland house--mode of travelling in winter--arrival at carlton house--stone indians--visit to a buffalo pound--goitres--departure from carlton house--isle à la crosse--arrival at fort chipewyan. 1820. january 18. this day we set out from cumberland house for carlton house; but previously to detailing the events of the journey, it may be proper to describe the necessary equipments of a winter traveller in this region, which i cannot do better than by extracting the following brief, but accurate, account of it from mr. hood's journal:-"a snow-shoe is made of two light bars of wood, fastened together at their extremities, and projected into curves by transverse bars. the side bars have been so shaped by a frame, and dried before a fire, that the front part of the shoe turns up, like the prow of a boat, and the part behind terminates in an acute angle; the spaces between the bars are filled up with a fine netting of leathern thongs, except that part behind the main bar, which is occupied by the feet; the netting is there close and strong, and the foot is attached to the main bar by straps passing round the heel but only fixing the toes, so that the heel rises after each step, and the tail of the shoe is dragged on the snow. between the main bar and another in front of it, a small space is left, permitting the toes to descend a little in the act of raising the heel to make the step forward, which prevents their extremities from chafing. the length of a snow-shoe is from four to six feet and the breadth one foot and a half, or one foot and three quarters, being adapted to the size of the wearer. the motion of walking in them is perfectly natural, for one shoe is level with the snow, when the edge of the other is passing over it. it is not easy to use them among bushes, without frequent overthrows, nor to rise afterwards without help. each shoe weighs about two pounds when unclogged with snow. the northern indian snow-shoes differ a little from those of the southern indians, having a greater curvature on the outside of each shoe; one advantage of which is, that when the foot rises the over-balanced side descends and throws off the snow. all the superiority of european art has been unable to improve the native contrivance of this useful machine. "sledges are made of two or three flat boards, curving upwards in front, and fastened together by transverse pieces of wood above. they are so thin that, if heavily laden, they bend with the inequalities of the surface over which they pass. the ordinary dog-sledges are eight or ten feet long and very narrow, but the lading is secured to a lacing round the edges. the cariole used by the traders is merely a covering of leather for the lower part of the body, affixed to the common sledge, which is painted and ornamented according to the taste of the proprietor. besides snow-shoes, each individual carries his blanket, hatchet, steel, flint, and tinder, and generally fire arms." the general dress of the winter traveller, is a _capot_, having a hood to put up under the fur cap in windy weather, or in the woods, to keep the snow from his neck; leathern trowsers and indian stockings which are closed at the ankles, round the upper part of his _mocassins_, or indian shoes, to prevent the snow from getting into them. over these he wears a blanket, or leathern coat, which is secured by a belt round his waist, to which his fire-bag, knife, and hatchet are suspended. mr. back and i were accompanied by the seaman, john hepburn; we were provided with two carioles and two sledges; their drivers and dogs being furnished in equal proportions by the two companies. fifteen days' provision so completely filled the sledges, that it was with difficulty we found room for a small sextant, one suit of clothes, and three changes of linen, together with our bedding. notwithstanding we thus restricted ourselves, and even loaded the carioles with part of the luggage, instead of embarking in them ourselves, we did not set out without considerable grumbling from the voyagers of both companies, respecting the overlading of their dogs. however, we left the matter to be settled by our friends at the fort, who were more conversant with winter travelling than ourselves. indeed the loads appeared to us so great that we should have been inclined to listen to the complaints of the drivers. the weight usually placed upon a sledge, drawn by three dogs, cannot, at the commencement of a journey, be estimated at less than three hundred pounds, which, however, suffers a daily diminution from the consumption of provisions. the sledge itself weighs about thirty pounds. when the snow is hard frozen, or the track well trodden, the rate of travelling is about two miles and a half an hour, including rests, or about fifteen miles a day. if the snow be loose the speed is necessarily much less and the fatigue greater. at eight in the morning of the 18th, we quitted the fort, and took leave of our hospitable friend, governor williams, whose kindness and attention i shall ever remember with gratitude. dr. richardson, mr. hood, and mr. connolly, accompanied us along the saskatchawan until the snow became too deep for their walking without snow-shoes. we then parted from our associates, with sincere regret at the prospect of a long separation. being accompanied by mr. mackenzie, of the hudson's bay company, who was going to isle à la crosse, with four sledges under his charge, we formed quite a procession, keeping in an indian file, on the track of the man who preceded the foremost dogs; but, as the snow was deep, we proceeded slowly on the surface of the river, which is about three hundred and fifty yards wide, for the distance of six miles, which we went this day. its alluvial banks and islands are clothed with willows. at the place of our encampment we could scarcely{21} find sufficient{22} pine branches to floor "the hut," as the orkney men term the place where travellers rest. its preparation, however, consists only in clearing away the snow to the ground, and covering that space with pine branches, over which the party spread their blankets and coats, and sleep in warmth and comfort, by keeping a good fire at their feet, without any other canopy than the heaven, even though the thermometer should be far below zero. the arrival at the place of encampment gives immediate occupation to every one of the party; and it is not until the sleeping-place has been arranged, and a sufficiency of wood collected as fuel for the night, that the fire is allowed to be kindled. the dogs alone remain inactive during this busy scene, being kept harnessed to their burdens until the men have leisure to unstow the sledges, and hang upon the trees every species of provision out of their reach. we had ample experience, before morning, of the necessity of this precaution, as they contrived to steal a considerable part of our stores, almost from underneath hepburn's head, notwithstanding{23} their having been well fed at supper. this evening we found the mercury of our thermometer had sunk into the bulb, and was frozen. it rose again into the tube on being held to the fire, but quickly re-descended into the bulb on being removed into the air; we could not, therefore, ascertain by it the temperature of the atmosphere, either then or during our journey. the weather was perfectly clear. _january 19_.--we arose this morning after the enjoyment of a sound and comfortable repose, and recommenced our journey at sunrise, but made slow progress through the deep snow. the task of beating the track for the dogs was so very fatiguing, that each of the men took the lead in turn, for an hour and a half. the scenery of the banks of the river improved as we advanced to-day; some firs and poplars were intermixed with the willows. we passed through two creeks, formed by islands, and encamped on a pleasant spot on the north shore, having only made six miles and three quarters actual distance. the next day we pursued our course along the river; the dogs had the greatest difficulty in dragging their heavy burdens through the snow. we halted to refresh them at the foot of sturgeon river, and obtained the latitude 53° 51' 41" n. this is a small stream, which issues from a neighbouring lake. we encamped near to musquito point, having walked about nine miles. the termination of the day's journey was a great relief to me, who had been suffering during the greater part of it, in consequence of my feet having been galled by the snow-shoes; this, however, is an evil which few escape on their initiation to winter travelling. it excites no pity from the more experienced companions of the journey, who travel on as fast as they can, regardless of your pain. mr. isbester, and an orkney man, joined us from cumberland house, and brought some pemmican that we had left behind; a supply which was very seasonable after our recent loss. the general occupation of mr. isbester during the winter, is to follow or find out the indians, and collect their furs, and his present journey will appear adventurous to persons accustomed to the certainty of travelling on a well-known road. he was going in search of a band of indians, of whom no information had been received since last october, and his only guide for finding them was their promise to hunt in a certain quarter; but he looked at the jaunt with indifference, and calculated on meeting them in six or seven days, for which time only he had provision. few persons in this country suffer more from want of food than those occasionally do who are employed on this service. they are furnished with a sufficiency of provision to serve until they reach the part where the indians are expected to be; but it frequently occurs that, on their arrival at the spot, they have gone elsewhere, and that a recent fall of snow has hidden their track, in which case, the voyagers have to wander about in search of them; and it often happens, when they succeed in finding the indians, that they are unprovided with meat. mr. isbester had been placed in this distressing situation only a few weeks ago, and passed four days without either himself or his dogs tasting food. at length, when he had determined on killing one of the dogs to satisfy his hunger, he happily met with a beaten track, which led him to some indian lodges, where he obtained food. the morning of the 21st was cold, but pleasant for travelling. we left mr. isbester and his companion, and crossed the peninsula of musquito point, to avoid a detour of several miles which the river makes. though we put up at an early hour, we gained eleven miles this day. our encampment was at the lower extremity of tobin's falls. the snow being less deep on the rough ice which enclosed this rapid, we proceeded, on the 22d, at a quicker pace than usual, but at the expense of great suffering to mr. back, myself, and hepburn, whose feet were much galled. after passing tobin's falls, the river expands to the breadth of five hundred yards, and its banks are well wooded with pines, poplars, birch, and willows. many tracks of moose-deer and wolves were observed near the encampment. on the 23d the sky was generally overcast, and there were several snow showers.{24} we saw two wolves and some foxes cross the river in the course of the day, and passed many tracks of the moose and red-deer. soon after we had encamped the snow fell heavily, which was an advantage to us after we had retired to rest, by its affording an additional covering to our blankets. the next morning, at breakfast time, two men arrived from carlton on their way to cumberland. having the benefit of their track, we were enabled, to our great joy, to march at a quick pace without snow-shoes. my only regret was, that the party proceeded too fast to allow of mr. back's halting occasionally, to note the bearings of the points, and delineate the course of the river[13], without being left behind. as the provisions were getting short, i could not, therefore, with propriety, check the progress of the party; and, indeed, it appeared to me less necessary, as i understood the river had been carefully surveyed. in the afternoon, we had to resume the incumbrance of the snow-shoes, and to pass over a rugged part where the ice had been piled over a collection of stones. the tracks of animals were very abundant on the river, particularly near the remains of an old establishment, called the lower nippéween. [13] this was afterwards done by dr. richardson during a voyage to carlton in the spring. so much snow had fallen on the night of the 24th, that the track we intended to follow was completely covered, and our march to-day was very fatiguing. we passed the remains of two red-deer, lying at the bases of perpendicular cliffs, from the summits of which they had, probably, been forced by the wolves. these voracious animals who are inferior in speed to the moose or red-deer are said frequently to have recourse to this expedient in places where extensive plains are bounded by precipitous cliffs. whilst the deer are quietly grazing, the wolves assemble in great numbers, and, forming a crescent, creep slowly towards the herd so as not to alarm them much at first, but when they perceive that they have fairly hemmed in the unsuspecting creatures, and cut off their retreat across the plain, they move more quickly and with hideous yells terrify their prey and urge them to flight by the only open way, which is that towards the precipice; appearing to know that when the herd is once at full speed, it is easily driven over the cliff, the rearmost urging on those that are before. the wolves then descend at their leisure, and feast on the mangled carcasses. one of these animals passed close to the person who was beating the track, but did not offer any violence. we encamped at sunset, after walking thirteen miles. on the 26th, we were rejoiced at passing the half-way point, between cumberland and carlton. the scenery of the river is less pleasing beyond this point, as there is a scarcity of wood. one of our men was despatched after a red-deer that appeared on the bank. he contrived to approach near enough to fire twice, though without success, before the animal moved away. after a fatiguing march of seventeen miles we put up at the upper nippéween, a deserted establishment; and performed the comfortable operations of shaving and washing for the first time since our departure from cumberland, the weather having been hitherto too severe. we passed an uncomfortable and sleepless night, and agreed next morning to encamp in future, in the open air, as preferable to the imperfect shelter of a deserted house without doors or windows. the morning was extremely cold, but fortunately the wind was light, which prevented our feeling it severely; experience indeed had taught us that the sensation of cold depends less upon the state of temperature, than the force of the wind. an attempt was made to obtain the latitude, which failed, in consequence of the screw, that adjusts the telescope of the sextant, being immoveably fixed, from the moisture upon it having frozen. the instrument could not be replaced in its case before the ice was thawed by the fire in the evening. in the course of the day we passed the confluence of the south branch of the saskatchawan, which rises from the rocky mountains near the sources of the northern branch of the missouri. at coles falls, which commence a short distance from the branch, we found the surface of the ice very uneven, and many spots of open water. we passed the ruins of an establishment, which the traders had been compelled to abandon, in consequence of the intractable{25} conduct and pilfering habits of the assinéboine{26} or stone indians; and we learned that all the residents at a post on the south branch, had been cut off{27} by the same tribe some years ago. we travelled twelve miles to-day. the wolves serenaded us through the night with a chorus of their agreeable howling, but none of them ventured near the encampment. but mr. back's repose was disturbed by a more serious evil: his buffalo robe caught fire, and the shoes on his feet, being contracted by the heat, gave him such pain, that he jumped up in the cold, and ran into the snow as the only means of obtaining relief. on the 28th we had a strong and piercing wind from n.w. in our faces, and much snow-drift; we were compelled to walk as quick as we could, and to keep constantly rubbing the exposed parts of the skin, to prevent their being frozen, but some of the party suffered in spite of every precaution. we descried three red-deer on the banks of the river, and were about to send the best marksmen after them, when they espied the party, and ran away. a supply of meat would have been very seasonable, as the men's provision had become scanty, and the dogs were without food, except a little burnt leather. owing to the scarcity of wood, we had to walk until a late hour, before a good spot for an encampment could be found, and had then attained only eleven miles. the night was miserably cold; our tea froze in the tin pots before we could drink it, and even a mixture of spirits and water became quite thick by congelation; yet, after we lay down to rest, we felt no inconvenience, and heeded not the wolves, though they were howling within view. the 29th was also very cold, until the sun burst forth, when the travelling became pleasant. the banks of the river are very scantily supplied with wood through the part we passed to-day. a long track on the south shore, called holms plains, is destitute of any thing like a tree, and the opposite bank has only stunted willows; but, after walking sixteen miles, we came to a spot better wooded, and encamped opposite to a remarkable place, called by the voyagers "the neck of land." a short distance below our encampment, on the peninsula formed by the confluence of the net-setting river with the saskatchawan, there stands a representation of kepoochikawn, which was formerly held in high veneration by the indians, and is still looked upon with some respect. it is merely a large willow bush, having its tops bound into a bunch. many offerings of value such as handsome dresses, hatchets, and kettles, used to be made to it, but of late its votaries have been less liberal. it was mentioned to us as a signal instance of its power, that a sacrilegious moose-deer having ventured to crop a few of its tender twigs was found dead at the distance of a few yards. the bush having now grown old and stunted is exempted from similar violations. on the thirtieth we directed our course round the neck of land, which is well clothed with pines and firs; though the opposite or western bank is nearly destitute of wood. this contrast between the two banks continued until we reached the commencement of what our companions called the barren grounds, when both the banks were alike bare. vast plains extend behind the southern bank, which afford excellent pasturage for the buffalo, and other grazing animals. in the evening we saw a herd of the former, but could not get near to them. after walking fifteen miles we encamped. the men's provision having been entirely expended last night, we shared our small stock with them. the poor dogs had been toiling some days on the most scanty fare; their rapacity, in consequence, was unbounded; they forced open a deal box, containing tea, _&c._, to get at a small piece of meat which had been incautiously placed in it. as soon as daylight permitted, the party commenced their march in expectation of reaching carlton house to breakfast, but we did not arrive before noon, although the track was good. we were received by mr. prudens, the gentleman in charge of the post, with that friendly attention which governor williams's circular was calculated to ensure at every station; and were soon afterwards regaled with a substantial dish of buffalo steaks, which would have been excellent under any circumstances, but were particularly relished by us, after our travelling fare of dried meat and pemmican, though eaten without either bread or vegetables. after this repast, we had the comfort of changing our travelling dresses, which had been worn for fourteen days; a gratification which can only be truly estimated by those who have been placed under similar circumstances. i was still in too great pain from swellings in the ankles to proceed to la montée, the north-west company's establishment, distant about three miles; but mr. hallet, the gentleman in charge, came the following morning, and i presented to him the circular from mr. s. mac gillivray. he had already been furnished, however, with a copy of it from mr. connolly, and was quite prepared to assist us in our advance to the athabasca. mr. back and i having been very desirous to see some of the stone indians, who reside on the plains in this vicinity, learned with regret that a large band of them had left the house on the preceding day; but our curiosity was amply gratified by the appearance of some individuals, on the following and every subsequent day during our stay. the looks of these people would have prepossessed me in their favour, but for the assurances i had received from the gentlemen of the posts, of their gross and habitual treachery. their countenances are affable and pleasing, their eyes large and expressive, nose aquiline, teeth white and regular, the forehead bold, the cheek-bones rather high. their figure is usually good, above the middle size, with slender, but well proportioned, limbs. their colour is a light copper, and they have a profusion of very black hair, which hangs over the ears, and shades the face. their dress, which i think extremely neat and convenient, consists of a vest and trowsers of leather fitted to the body; over these a buffalo robe is thrown gracefully. these dresses are in general cleaned with _white-mud_, a sort of marl, though some use _red earth_, a kind of bog-iron-ore; but this colour neither looks so light, nor forms such an agreeable contrast as the white with the black hair of the robe. their quiver hangs behind them, and in the hand is carried the bow, with an arrow always ready for attack or defence, and sometimes they have a gun; they also carry a bag containing materials for making a fire, some tobacco, the calumet or pipe, and whatever valuables they possess. this bag is neatly ornamented with porcupine quills. thus equipped, the stone indian bears himself with an air of perfect independence. the only articles of european commerce they require in exchange for the meat they furnish to the trading post, are tobacco, knives, ammunition, and spirits, and occasionally some beads, but more frequently buttons, which they string in their hair as ornaments. a successful hunter will probably have two or three dozen of them hanging at equal distances on locks of hair, from each side of the forehead. at the end of these locks, small coral bells are sometimes attached, which tingle at every motion of the head, a noise which seems greatly to delight the wearer; sometimes strings of buttons are bound round the head like a tiara; and a bunch of feathers gracefully crowns the head. the stone indians steal whatever they can, particularly horses; these animals they maintain are common property, sent by the almighty for the general use of man, and therefore may be taken wherever met with; still they admit the right of the owners to watch them, and to prevent theft if possible. this avowed disposition on their part calls forth the strictest vigilance at the different posts; notwithstanding which the most daring attacks are often made with success, sometimes on parties of three or four, but oftener on individuals. about two years ago a band of them had the audacity to attempt to take away some horses which were grazing before the gate of the n.w. company's fort; and, after braving the fire from the few people then at the establishment through the whole day, and returning their shots occasionally, they actually succeeded in their enterprise. one man was killed on each side. they usually strip defenceless persons whom they meet of all their garments, but particularly of those which have buttons, and leave them to travel home in that state, however severe the weather. if resistance be expected, they not unfrequently murder before they attempt to rob. the traders, when they travel, invariably keep some men on guard to prevent surprise, whilst the others sleep; and often practise the stratagem of lighting a fire at sunset, which they leave burning, and move on after dark to a more distant encampment--yet these precautions do not always baffle the depredators. such is the description of men whom the traders of this river have constantly to guard against. it must require a long residence among them, and much experience of their manners, to overcome the apprehensions their hostility and threats are calculated to excite. through fear of having their provision and supplies entirely cut off, the traders are often obliged to overlook the grossest offences, even murder, though{28} the delinquents present themselves with unblushing effrontery{29} almost immediately after the fact, and perhaps boast of it. they do not, on detection, consider themselves under any obligation to deliver up what they have stolen without receiving an equivalent. the stone indians keep in amity with their neighbours the crees from motives of interest; and the two tribes unite in determined hostility against the nations dwelling to the westward, which are generally called slave indians--a term of reproach applied by the crees to those tribes against whom they have waged successful wars. the slave indians are said greatly to resemble the stone indians, being equally desperate and daring in their acts of aggression and dishonesty towards the traders. these parties go to war almost every summer, and sometimes muster three or four hundred horsemen on each side. their leaders, in approaching the foe, exercise all the caution of the most skilful generals; and whenever either party considers that it has gained the best ground, or finds it can surprise the other, the attack is made. they advance at once to close quarters, and the slaughter is consequently great, though the battle may be short. the prisoners of either sex are seldom spared, but slain on the spot with wanton cruelty. the dead are scalped, and he is considered the bravest person who bears the greatest number of scalps from the field. these are afterwards attached to his war dress, and worn as proofs of his prowess. the victorious party, during a certain time, blacken their faces and every part of their dress in token of joy, and in that state they often come to the establishment, if near, to testify their delight by dancing and singing, bearing all the horrid insignia of war, to display their individual feats. when in mourning, they completely cover their dress and hair with white mud. the crees in the vicinity of carlton house have the same cast of countenance as those about cumberland, but are much superior to them in appearance, living in a more abundant country. these men are more docile, tractable, and industrious, than the stone indians, and bring greater supplies of provision and furs to the posts. their general mode of dress resembles that of the stone indians; but sometimes they wear cloth leggins, blankets, and other useful articles, when they can afford to purchase them. they also decorate their hair with buttons. the crees procure guns from the traders, and use them in preference to the bow and arrow; and from them the stone indians often get supplied, either by stealth, gaming, or traffic. like the rest of their nation, these crees are remarkably fond of spirits, and would make any sacrifice to obtain them. i regretted to find the demand for this pernicious article had greatly increased within the few last years. the following notice of these indians is extracted from dr. richardson's journal: "the asseenaboine, termed by the crees asseeneepoytuck, or stone indians, are a tribe of sioux, who speak a dialect of the iroquois, one of the great divisions under which the american philologists have classed the known dialects of the aborigines of north america. the stone indians, or, as they name themselves, _eascab_, originally entered this part of the country under the protection of the crees, and in concert with them attacked and drove to the westward the former inhabitants of the banks of the saskatchawan. they are still the allies of the crees, but have now become more numerous than their former protectors. they exhibit all the bad qualities ascribed to the mengwe or iroquois, the stock whence they are sprung. of their actual number i could obtain no precise information, but it is very great. the crees who inhabit the plains, being fur hunters, are better known to the traders. "they are divided into two distinct bands, the ammisk-watcheéthinyoowuc or beaver hill crees, who have about forty tents, and the sackaweé-thinyoowuc, or thick wood crees, who have thirty-five. the tents average nearly ten inmates each, which gives a population of seven hundred and fifty to the whole. "the nations who were driven to the westward by the eascab and crees are termed, in general, by the latter, yatcheé-thinyoowuc, which has been translated slave indians, but more properly signifies strangers. "they now inhabit the country around fort augustus, and towards the foot of the rocky mountains, and have increased in strength until they have become an object of terror to the eascab themselves. they rear a great number of horses, make use of fire-arms, and are fond of european articles; in order to purchase which they hunt the beaver and other furred animals, but they depend principally on the buffalo for subsistence. "they are divided into five nations:--first, the pawäustic-eythin-yoowuc, or fall indians, so named from their former residence on the falls of the saskatchawan. they are the minetarres, with whom captain lewis's party had a conflict on their return from the missouri. they have about four hundred and fifty or five hundred tents; their language is very guttural and difficult. "second, the peganoo-eythinyoowuc pegans, or muddy river indians, named in their own language peganoe`-koon, have four hundred tents. "third, the meethco-thinyoowuc, or blood indians, named by themselves kainoe`-koon, have three hundred tents. "fourth, the cuskoeteh-waw-thésseetuck, or blackfoot indians, in their own language saxoekoe-koon, have three hundred and fifty tents. "the last three nations, or tribes, the pegans, blood indians, and black-feet speak the same language. it is pronounced in a slow and distinct tone, has much softness, and is easily acquired by their neighbours. i am assured by the best interpreters in the country, that it bears no affinity to the cree, sioux, or chipewyan languages. "lastly, the sassees, or circees, have one hundred and fifty tents; they speak the same language with their neighbours, the snare indians, who are a tribe of the extensive family of the chipewyans[14]." [14] "as the subjects may be interesting to philologists, i subjoin a few words of the blackfoot language:- peestâh kan, tobacco. moohksee, an awl. nappoe-oòhkee, rum. cook keet, give me. eeninee, buffalo. poox[=a]poot, come here. kat oetsits, none, i have none. keet st[=a] kee, a beaver. naum`, a bow. stoo-an, a knife. sassoopats, ammunition. meenee, beads. poommees, fat. miss ta poot, keep off. saw, no. stwee, cold; it is cold. penn[=a]k[=o]mit, a horse. ahseeu, good." on the 6th of february, we accompanied mr. prudens on a visit to a cree encampment and a buffalo pound, about six miles from the house; we found seven tents pitched within a small cluster of pines, which adjoined the pound. the largest, which we entered, belonged to the chief, who was absent, but came in on learning our arrival. the old man (about sixty) welcomed us with a hearty shake of the hand, and the customary salutation of "what cheer!" an expression which they have gained from the traders. as we had been expected, they had caused the tent to be neatly arranged, fresh grass was spread on the ground, buffalo robes were placed on the side opposite the door for us to sit on, and a kettle was on the fire to boil meat for us. after a few minutes' conversation, an invitation was given to the chief and his hunters to smoke the calumet with us, as a token of our friendship: this was loudly announced through the camp, and ten men from the other tents immediately joined our party. on their entrance the women and children withdrew, their presence on such occasions being contrary to etiquette. the calumet having been prepared and lighted by mr. prudens's clerk, was presented to the chief, who performed the following ceremony before he commenced smoking:--he first pointed the stem to the south, then to the west, north, and east, and afterwards to the heavens, the earth, and the fire, as an offering to the presiding spirits:--he took three whiffs only, and then passed the pipe to his next companion, who took the same number of whiffs, and so did each person as it went round. after the calumet had been replenished, the person who then commenced repeated only the latter part of the ceremony, pointing the stem to the heaven, the earth, and the fire. some spirits, mixed with water, were presented to the old man, who, before he drank, demanded a feather, which he dipped into the cup several times, and sprinkled the moisture on the ground, pronouncing each time a prayer. his first address to the keetchee manitou, or great spirit, was, that buffalo might be abundant every where, and that plenty might come into their pound. he next prayed, that the other animals might be numerous, and particularly those which were valuable for their furs, and then implored that the party present might escape the sickness which was at that time prevalent, and be blessed with constant health. some other supplications followed, which we could not get interpreted without interrupting the whole proceeding; but at every close, the whole indian party assented by exclaiming aha; and when he had finished, the old man drank a little and passed the cup round. after these ceremonies each person smoked at his leisure, and they engaged in a general conversation, which i regretted not understanding, as it seemed to be very humorous, exciting frequent bursts of laughter. the younger men, in particular, appeared to ridicule the abstinence of one of the party, who neither drank{30} nor smoked. he bore their jeering with perfect composure, and assured them, as i was told, they would be better if they would follow his example. i was happy to learn from mr. prudens, that this man was not only one of the best hunters, but the most cheerful and contented of the tribe. four stone indians arrived at this time and were invited into the tent, but one only accepted the invitation and partook of the fare. when mr. prudens heard the others refuse, he gave immediate directions that our horses should be narrowly watched, as he suspected these fellows wished to carry them off. having learned that these crees considered mr. back and myself to be war chiefs, possessing great power, and that they expected we should make some address to them, i desired them to be kind to the traders, to be industrious in procuring them provision and furs, and to refrain from stealing their stores and horses; and i assured them, that if i heard of their continuing to behave kindly, i would mention their good conduct in the strongest terms to their great father across the sea, (by which appellation they designate the king,) whose favourable consideration they had been taught by the traders to value most highly. they all promised to follow my advice, and assured me it was not they, but the stone indians, who robbed and annoyed the traders. the stone indian who was present, heard this accusation against his tribe quite unmoved, but he probably did not understand the whole of the communication. we left them to finish their rum, and went to look round the lodges, and examine the pound. the greatest proportion of labour, in savage life, falls to the women; we now saw them employed in dressing skins, and conveying wood, water, and provision. as they have often to fetch the meat from some distance, they are assisted in this duty by their dogs, which are not harnessed in sledges, but carry their burthens in a manner peculiarly adapted to this level country. two long poles are fastened by a collar to the dog's neck; their ends trail on the ground, and are kept at a proper distance by a hoop, which is lashed between them, immediately behind the dog's tail; the hoop is covered with network, upon which the load is placed. the boys were amusing themselves by shooting arrows at a mark, and thus training to become hunters. the stone indians are so expert with the bow and arrow, that they can strike a very small object at a considerable distance, and will shoot with sufficient force to pierce through the body of a buffalo when near. the buffalo pound was a fenced circular space of about a hundred yards in diameter; the entrance was banked up with snow, to a sufficient height to prevent the retreat of the animals that once have entered. for about a mile on each side of the road leading to the pound, stakes were driven into the ground at nearly equal distances of about twenty yards; these were intended to represent men, and to deter the animals from attempting to break out on either side. within fifty or sixty yards from the pound, branches of trees were placed between these stakes to screen the indians, who lie down behind them to await the approach of the buffalo. the principal dexterity in this species of chase is shewn by the horsemen, who have to manoeuvre round the herd in the plains so as to urge them to enter the roadway, which is about a quarter of a mile broad. when this has been accomplished, they raise loud shouts, and, pressing close upon the animals, so terrify them that they rush heedlessly forward towards the snare. when they have advanced as far as the men who are lying in ambush, they also rise, and increase the consternation by violent shouting and firing guns. the affrighted beasts having no alternative, run directly to the pound, where they are quickly despatched, either with an arrow or gun. there was a tree in the centre of the pound, on which the indians had hung strips of buffalo flesh and pieces of cloth as tributary or grateful offerings to the great master of life; and we were told that they occasionally place a man in the tree to sing to the presiding spirit as the buffaloes are advancing, who must keep his station until the whole that have entered are killed. this species of hunting is very similar to that of taking elephants on the island of ceylon, but upon a smaller scale. the crees complained to us of the audacity of a party of stone indians, who, two nights before, had stripped their revered tree of many of its offerings, and had injured their pound by setting their stakes out of the proper places. other modes of killing the buffalo are practised by the indians with success; of these the hunting them on horseback requires most dexterity. an expert hunter, when well mounted, dashes at the herd, and chooses an individual which he endeavours to separate from the rest. if he succeeds, he contrives to keep him apart by the proper management of his horse, though going at full speed. whenever he can get sufficiently near for a ball to penetrate the beast's hide, he fires, and seldom fails of bringing the animal down; though of course he cannot rest the piece against the shoulder, nor take a deliberate aim. on this service the hunter is often exposed to considerable danger, from the fall of his horse in the numerous holes which the badgers make in these plains, and also from the rage of the buffalo, which, when closely pressed, often turns suddenly, and, rushing furiously on the horse, frequently succeeds in wounding it, or dismounting the rider. whenever the animal shews this disposition, which the experienced hunter will readily perceive, he immediately pulls up his horse, and goes off in another direction. when the buffaloes are on their guard, horses cannot be used in approaching them; but the hunter dismounts at some distance, and crawls in the snow towards the herd, pushing his gun before him. if the buffaloes happen to look towards him, he stops, and keeps quite motionless, until their eyes are turned in another direction; by this cautious proceeding a skilful person will get so near as to be able to kill two or three out of the herd. it will easily be imagined this service cannot be very agreeable when the thermometer stands 30° or 40° below zero, as sometimes happens in this country. as we were returning from the tents, the dogs that were harnessed to three sledges, in one of which mr. back was seated, set off in pursuit of a buffalo-calf. mr. back was speedily thrown from his vehicle, and had to join me in my horse-cariole. mr. heriot, having gone to recover the dogs, found them lying exhausted beside the calf, which they had baited until it was as exhausted as themselves. mr. heriot, to shew us the mode of hunting on horseback, or, as the traders term it, running of the buffalo, went in chase of a cow, and killed it after firing three shots. the buffalo is a huge and shapeless animal, quite devoid of grace or beauty; particularly awkward in running, but by no means slow; when put to his speed, he plunges through the deep snow very expeditiously; the hair is dark brown, very shaggy, curling about the head, neck, and hump, and almost covering the eye, particularly in the bull, which is larger and more unsightly than the cow. the most esteemed part of the animal is the hump, called by the canadians _bos_, by the hudson's bay people the _wig_; it is merely a strong muscle, on which nature at certain seasons forms a considerable quantity of fat. it is attached to the long spinous processes of the first dorsal vertebræ, and seems to be destined to support the enormous head of the animal. the meat which covers the spinal processes themselves, after the wig is removed, is next in esteem for its flavour and juiciness, and is more exclusively termed the hump by the hunters. the party was prevented from visiting a stone indian encampment by a heavy fall of snow, which made it impracticable to go and return the same day. we were dissuaded from sleeping at their tents by the interpreter at the n.w. post, who told us they considered the hooping-cough and measles, under which they were now suffering, to have been introduced by some white people recently arrived in the country, and that he feared those who had lost relatives, imagining we were the persons, might vent their revenge on us. we regretted to learn that these diseases had been so very destructive among the tribes along the saskatchawan, as to have carried off about three hundred persons, crees and asseenaboines, within the trading circle of these establishments. the interpreter also informed us of another bad trait peculiar to the stone indians. though they receive a visitor kindly at their tents, and treat him very hospitably during his stay, yet it is very probable they will despatch some young men to way-lay and rob him in going towards the post: indeed, all the traders assured us it was more necessary to be vigilantly on our guard on the occasion of a visit to them, than at any other time. carlton house, (which our observations place in latitude 52° 50' 47" n., longitude, 106° 12' 42" w., variation 20° 44' 47" e.) is pleasantly situated about a quarter of a mile from the river's side on the flat ground under the shelter of the high banks that bound the plains. the land is fertile, and produces, with little trouble, ample returns of wheat, barley, oats, and potatoes. the ground is prepared for the reception of these vegetables, about the middle of april, and when dr. richardson visited this place on may 10th, the blade of wheat looked strong and healthy. there were only five acres in cultivation at the period of my visit. the prospect from the fort must be pretty in summer, owing to the luxuriant verdure of this fertile soil; but in the uniform and cheerless garb of winter, it has little to gratify the eye. beyond the steep bank behind the house, commences the vast plain, whose boundaries are but imperfectly known; it extends along the south branch of the saskatchawan, and towards the sources of the missouri, and asseenaboine rivers, being scarcely interrupted through the whole of this great space by hills, or even rising grounds. the excellent pasturage furnishes food in abundance, to a variety of grazing animals, of which the buffalo, red-deer, and a species of antelope, are the most important. their presence naturally attracts great hordes of wolves, which are of two kinds, the large, and the small. many bears prowl about the banks of this river in summer; of these the grizzle bear is the most ferocious, and is held in dread both by indians and europeans. the traveller, in crossing these plains, not only suffers from the want of food and water, but is also exposed to hazard from his horse stumbling in the numerous badger-holes. in many large districts, the only fuel is the dried dung of the buffalo; and when a thirsty traveller reaches a spring, he has not unfrequently the mortification to find the water salt. carlton house, and la montée, are provision-posts, only an inconsiderable quantity of furs being obtained at either of them. the provisions are procured in the winter season from the indians, in the form of dried meat and fat, and when converted by mixture into pemmican, furnish the principal support of the voyagers, in their passages to and from the depôts in summer. a considerable quantity of it is also kept for winter use, at most of the fur-posts, as the least bulky article that can be taken on a winter journey. the mode of making pemmican is very simple, the meat is dried by the indians in the sun, or over a fire, and pounded by beating it with stones when spread on a skin. in this state it is brought to the forts, where the admixture of hair is partially sifted out, and a third part of melted fat incorporated with it, partly by turning the two over with a wooden shovel, partly by kneading them together with the hands. the pemmican is then firmly pressed into leathern bags, each capable of containing eighty-five pounds, and being placed in an airy place to cool, is fit for use. it keeps in this state, if not allowed to get wet, very well for one year, and with great care it may be preserved good for two. between three and four hundred bags were made here by each of the companies this year. there were eight men, besides mr. prudens and his clerk, belonging to carlton house. at la montée there were seventy canadians and half-breeds, and sixty women and children, who consumed upwards of seven hundred pounds of{31} buffalo meat daily, the allowance per diem for each man being eight pounds: a portion not so extravagant as may at first appear, when allowance is made for bone, and the entire want of farinaceous food or vegetables. there are other provision posts, fort augustus and edmonton farther up the river, from whence some furs are also procured. the stone indians have threatened to cut off the supplies in going up to these establishments, to prevent their enemies from obtaining ammunition, and other european articles; but as these menaces have been frequently made without being put in execution{32}, the traders now hear them without any great alarm, though they take every precaution to prevent being surprised. mr. back and i were present when an old cree communicated to mr. prudens, that the indians spoke of killing all the white people in that vicinity this year, which information he received with perfect composure, and was amused, as well as ourselves, with the man's judicious remark which immediately followed, "a pretty state we shall then be in without the goods you bring us." the following remarks on a well-known disease are extracted from dr. richardson's journal:-"bronchocele, or goitre, is a common disorder at edmonton. i examined several of the individuals afflicted with it, and endeavoured to obtain every information on the subject from the most authentic sources. the following facts may be depended upon. the disorder attacks those only who drink the water of the river. it is indeed in its worst state confined almost entirely to the half-breed women and children, who reside constantly at the fort, and make use of river water, drawn in the winter through a hole cut in the ice. the men, being often from home on journeys through the plain, when their drink is melted snow, are less affected; and, if any of them exhibit during the winter, some incipient symptoms of the complaint, the annual summer voyage to the sea-coast generally effects a cure. the natives who confine themselves to snow water in the winter, and drink of the small rivulets which flow through the plains in the summer, are exempt from the attacks of this disease. "these facts are curious, inasmuch as they militate against the generally-received opinion that the disease is caused by drinking snow-water; an opinion which seems to have originated from bronchocele being endemial to sub-alpine districts. "the saskatchawan, at edmonton, is clear in the winter, and also in the summer, except during the may and july floods. the distance from the rocky mountains (which i suppose to be of primitive formation,) is upwards of one hundred and thirty miles. the neighbouring plains are alluvial, the soil is calcareous, and contains numerous travelled fragments of limestone. at a considerable distance below edmonton, the river, continuing its course through the plains, becomes turbid, and acquires a white colour. in this state it is drunk by the inmates of carlton house, where the disease is known only by name. it is said that the inhabitants of rocky mountain house, sixty miles nearer the source of the river are more severely affected than those at edmonton. the same disease occurs near the sources of the elk and peace rivers; but, in those parts of the country which are distant from the rocky mountain chain, it is unknown, although melted snow forms the only drink of the natives for nine months of the year. "a residence of a single year at edmonton is sufficient to render a family bronchocelous. many of the goitres acquire great size. burnt sponge has been tried, and found to remove the disease, but an exposure to the same cause immediately reproduces it. "a great proportion of the children of women who have goitres, are born idiots, with large heads, and the other distinguishing marks of _cretins_. i could not learn whether it was necessary that both parents should have goitres, to produce cretin children: indeed the want of chastity in the half-breed women would be a bar to the deduction of any inference on this head." _february 8_.--having recovered from the swellings and pains which our late march from cumberland had occasioned, we prepared for the commencement of our journey to isle à la crosse, and requisitions were made on both the establishments for the means of conveyance, and the necessary supply of provisions for the party, which were readily furnished. on the 9th the carioles and sledges were loaded, and sent off after breakfast; but mr. back and i remained till the afternoon, as mr. prudens had offered that his horses should convey us to the encampment. at 3 p.m. we parted from our kind host, and in passing through the gate were honoured with a salute of musketry. after riding six miles, we joined the men at their encampment, which was made under the shelter of a few poplars. the dogs had been so much fatigued in wading through the very deep snow with their heavy burdens, having to drag upwards of ninety pounds' weight each, that they could get no farther. soon after our arrival, the snow began to fall heavily, and it continued through the greater part of the night. our next day's march was therefore particularly tedious, the snow being deep, and the route lying across an unvarying level, destitute of wood, except one small cluster of willows. in the afternoon we reached the end of the plain, and came to an elevation, on which poplars, willows, and some pines grew, where we encamped; having travelled ten miles. we crossed three small lakes, two of fresh water and one of salt, near the latter of which we encamped, and were, in consequence, obliged to use for our tea, water made from snow, which has always a disagreeable taste. we had scarcely ascended the hill on the following morning, when a large herd of red-deer was perceived grazing at a little distance; and, though we were amply supplied with provision, our canadian companions could not resist the temptation of endeavouring to add to our stock. a half-breed hunter was therefore sent after them. he succeeded in wounding one, but not so as to prevent its running off with the herd in a direction wide of our course. a couple of rabbits and a brace of wood partridges were shot in the afternoon. there was an agreeable variety of hill and dale in the scenery we passed through to-day; and sufficient wood for ornament, but not enough to crowd the picture. the valleys were intersected by several small lakes and pools, whose snowy covering was happily contrasted with the dark green of the pine-trees which surrounded them. after ascending a moderately high hill by a winding path through a close wood, we opened suddenly upon lake iroquois, and had a full view of its picturesque shores. we crossed it and encamped. though the sky was cloudless, yet the weather was warm. we had the gratification of finding a beaten track soon after we started on the morning of the 12th, and were thus enabled to walk briskly. we crossed at least twenty hills, and found a small lake or pool at the foot of each. the destructive ravages of fire were visible during the greater part of the day. the only wood we saw for miles together consisted of pine-trees stript of their branches and bark by this element: in other parts poplars alone were growing, which we have remarked invariably to succeed the pine after a conflagration. we walked twenty miles to-day, but the direct distance was only sixteen. the remains of an indian hut were found in a deep glen, and close to it was placed a pile of wood, which our companions supposed to cover a deposit of provision. our canadian voyagers, induced by their insatiable desire of procuring food, proceeded to remove the upper pieces, and examine its contents; when, to their surprise{33}, they found the body of a female, clothed in leather, which appeared to have been recently placed there. her former garments, the materials for making a fire, a fishing-line, a hatchet, and a bark dish, were laid beside the corpse. the wood was carefully replaced. a small owl, perched on a tree near the spot, called forth many singular remarks from our companions, as to its being a good or bad omen. we walked the whole of the 13th over flat meadow-land, which is much resorted to by the buffalo at all seasons. some herds of them were seen, which our hunters were too unskilful to approach. in the afternoon we reached the stinking lake, which is nearly of an oval form. its shores are very low and swampy, to which circumstances, and not to the bad quality of the waters, it owes its indian name. our observations place its western part in latitude 53° 25' 24" n., longitude 107° 18' 58" w., variation 20° 32' 10" e. after a march of fifteen miles and a half, we encamped among a few pines, at the only spot where we saw sufficient wood for making our fire during the day. the next morning, about an hour after we had commenced our march, we came upon a beaten track, and perceived recent marks of snow-shoes. in a short time an iroquois joined us, who was residing with a party of cree-indians, to secure the meat and furs they should collect, for the north-west company. he accompanied us as far as the stage on which his meat was placed, and then gave us a very pressing invitation to halt for the day and partake of his fare; which, as the hour was too early, we declined, much to the annoyance of our canadian companions, who had been cherishing the prospect of indulging their amazing appetites at this well-furnished store, ever since the man had been with us. he gave them, however, a small supply previous to our parting. the route now crossed some ranges of hills, on which fir, birch, and poplar, grew so thickly, that we had much difficulty in getting the sledges through the narrow pathway between them. in the evening we descended from the elevated ground, crossed three swampy meadows, and encamped at their northern extremity, within a cluster of large pine-trees, the branches of which were elegantly decorated with abundance of a greenish yellow lichen. our march was ten miles. the weather was very mild, almost too warm for the exercise we were taking. we had a strong gale from the n.w. during the night, which subsided as the morning opened. one of the sledges had been so much broken the day before in the woods, that we had to divide its cargo among the others. we started after this had been arranged, and finding almost immediately a firm track, soon arrived at some indian lodges to which it led. the inhabitants were crees, belonging to the posts on the saskatchawan, from whence they had come to hunt beaver. we made but a short stay, and proceeded through a swamp to pelican lake. our view to the right was bounded by a range of lofty hills, which extended for several miles in a north and south direction, which, it may be remarked, was that of all the hilly land we had passed since quitting the plain. pelican lake is of an irregular form, about six miles from east to west, and eight from north to south; it decreases to the breadth of a mile towards the northern extremity, and is there terminated by a creek. we went up this creek for a short distance, and then struck into the woods, and encamped among a cluster of the firs, which the canadians term cyprès{34} (_pinus banksiana_,) having come fourteen miles and a half. _february 16_.--shortly after commencing the journey to-day, we met an indian and his family, who had come from the houses at green lake; they informed us the track was well beaten the whole way. we therefore, put forth our utmost speed in the hope of reaching them by night; but were disappointed, and had to halt at dark, about twelve miles from them, in a fisherman's hut, which was unoccupied. frequent showers of snow fell during the day, and the atmosphere was thick and gloomy. we started at an early hour the following morning, and reached the hudson's bay company's post to breakfast, and were received very kindly by mr. mac farlane, the gentleman in charge. the other establishment, situated on the opposite side of the river, was under the direction of mr. dugald cameron, one of the partners of the north-west company, on whom mr. back and i called soon after our arrival, and were honoured with a salute of musquetry. these establishments are small, but said to be well situated for procuring furs; as the numerous creeks in their vicinity are much resorted to by the beaver, otter, and musquash. the residents usually obtain a superabundant supply of provision. this season, however, they barely had sufficient for their own support, owing to the epidemic which has incapacitated the indians for hunting. the green lake lies nearly north and south, is eighteen miles in length, and does not exceed one mile and a half of breadth in any part. the water is deep, and it is in consequence one of the last lakes in the country that is frozen. excellent tittameg and trout are caught in it from march to december, but after that time most of the fish remove to some larger lake. we remained two days, awaiting the return of some men who had been sent to the indian lodges for meat, and who were to go on with us. mr. back and i did not need this rest, having completely surmounted the pain occasioned by the snow-shoes. we dined twice with mr. cameron, and received from him many useful suggestions respecting our future operations. this gentleman having informed us that provisions would, probably, be very scarce next spring in the athabasca department, in consequence of the sickness of the indians during the hunting season, undertook at my request to cause a supply of pemmican to be conveyed from the saskatchawan to isle à la crosse for our use during the winter, and i wrote to apprize dr. richardson and mr. hood, that they would find it at the latter post when they passed; and also to desire them to bring as much as the canoes would stow from cumberland. the atmosphere was clear and cold during our stay; observations were obtained at the hudson bay fort, lat. 54° 16' 10" n., long. 107° 29' 52" w., var. 22° 6' 35" e. _february 20_.--having been equipped with carioles, sledges, and provisions, from the two posts, we this day recommenced our journey, and were much amused by the novelty of the salute given at our departure, the guns being principally fired by the women in the absence of the men. our course was directed to the end of the lake, and for a short distance along a small river; we then crossed the woods to the beaver river, which we found to be narrow and very serpentine, having moderately high banks. we encamped about one mile and a half further up among poplars. the next day we proceeded along the river; it was winding, and about two hundred yards broad. we passed the mouths of two rivers whose waters it receives; the latter one, we were informed, is a channel by which the indians go to the lesser slave lake. the banks of the river became higher as we advanced, and were adorned with pines, poplars, and willows. though the weather was very cold, we travelled more comfortably than at any preceding time since our departure from cumberland, as we had light carioles, which enabled us to ride nearly the whole day, warmly covered up with a buffalo robe. we were joined by mr. mcleod, of the north-west company, who had kindly brought some things from green lake, which our sledges could not carry. pursuing our route along the river, we reached at an early hour the upper extremity of the "grand rapid," where the ice was so rough that the carioles and sledges had to be conveyed across a point of land. soon after noon we left the river, inclining n.e., and directed our course n.w., until we reached long lake, and encamped at its northern extremity, having come twenty-three miles. this lake is about fourteen miles long, and from three quarters to one mile and a half broad; its shores and islands low, but well wooded. there were frequent snow-showers during the day. _february 23_.--the night was very stormy, but the wind became more moderate in the morning. we passed to-day through several nameless lakes and swamps before we came to train lake, which received its name from being the place where the traders procured the birch to make their sledges, or traineaux; but this wood has been all used, and there only remain pines and a few poplars. we met some sledges laden with fish, kindly sent to meet us by mr. clark, of the hudson's bay company, on hearing of our approach. towards the evening the weather became much more unpleasant, and we were exposed to a piercingly cold wind, and much snow-drift, in traversing the isle à la crosse lake; we were, therefore, highly pleased at reaching the hudson's bay house by six p.m. we were received in the most friendly manner by mr. clark, and honoured by volleys of musketry. similar marks of attention were shewn to us on the following day by mr. bethune, the partner in charge of the north-west company's fort. i found here the letters which i had addressed from cumberland, in november last, to the partners of the north-west company, in the athabasca, which circumstance convinced me of the necessity of our present journey. these establishments are situated on the southern side of the lake, and close to each other. they are forts of considerable importance, being placed at a point of communication with the english river, the athabasca, and columbia districts. the country around them is low, and intersected with water, and was formerly much frequented by beavers and otters, which, however, have been so much hunted by the indians, that their number is greatly decreased. the indians frequenting these forts are the crees and some chipewyans; they scarcely ever come except in the spring and autumn; in the former season to bring their winter's collection of furs, and in the latter to get the stores they require. three chipewyan lads came in during our stay, to report what furs the band to which they belonged had collected, and to desire they might be sent for; the indians having declined bringing either furs or meat themselves, since the opposition between the companies commenced. mr. back drew the portrait of one of the boys. isle à la crosse lake receives its name from an island situated near the forts, on which the indians formerly assembled annually to amuse themselves at the game of the cross. it is justly celebrated for abundance of the finest tittameg, which weigh from five to fifteen pounds. the residents live principally upon this most delicious fish, which fortunately can be eaten a long time without disrelish. it is plentifully caught with nets throughout the year, except for two or three months. _march 4_.--we witnessed the aurora borealis very brilliant for the second time since our departure from cumberland. a winter encampment is not a favourable situation for viewing this phenomenon, as the trees in general hide the sky. arrangements had been made for recommencing our journey to-day, but the wind was stormy, and the snow had drifted too much for travelling with comfort; we therefore stayed and dined with mr. bethune, who promised to render every assistance in getting pemmican conveyed to us from the saskatchawan, to be in readiness for our canoes, when they might arrive in the spring; mr. clark also engaged to procure six bags for us, and to furnish our canoes with any other supplies which might be wanted, and could be spared from his post, and to contribute his aid in forwarding the pemmican to the athabasca, if our canoes could not carry it all. i feel greatly indebted to this gentleman for much valuable information respecting the country and the indians residing to the north of slave lake, and for furnishing me with a list of stores he supposed we should require. he had resided some years on mackenzie's river, and had been once so far towards its mouth as to meet the esquimaux in great numbers. but they assumed such a hostile attitude, that he deemed it unadvisable to attempt opening any communication with them, and retreated as speedily as he could. the observations we obtained here shewed that the chronometers had varied their rates a little in consequence of the jolting of the carioles, but their errors and rates were ascertained previous to our departure. we observed the position of this fort to be latitude 55° 25' 35" n., longitude 107° 51' 00" w., by lunars reduced back from fort chipewyan, variation 22° 15' 48" w.,{35} dip 84° 13' 35". _march 5_.--we recommenced our journey this morning, having been supplied with the means of conveyance by both the companies in equal proportions. mr. clark accompanied us with the intention of going as far as the boundary of his district. this gentleman was an experienced winter traveller, and we derived much benefit from his suggestions; he caused the men to arrange the encampment with more attention to comfort and shelter than our former companions had done. after marching eighteen miles we put up on gravel point, in the deep river. at nine the next morning, we came to the commencement of clear lake. we crossed its southern extremes, and then went over a point of land to buffalo lake, and encamped after travelling{36} twenty-six miles. after supper we were entertained till midnight with paddling songs, by our canadians, who required very little stimulus beyond their natural vivacity, to afford us this diversion. the next morning we arrived at the establishments which are situated on the western side of the lake, near a small stream, called the beaver river. they were small log buildings, hastily erected last october, for the convenience of the indians who hunt in the vicinity. mr. mac murray, a partner in the n.w. company, having sent to isle à la crosse an invitation to mr. back and i, our carioles were driven to his post, and we experienced the kindest reception. these posts are frequented by only a few indians, crees, and chipewyans. the country round is not sufficiently stocked with animals to afford support to many families, and the traders subsist almost entirely on fish caught in the autumn, prior to the lake being frozen; but the water being shallow, they remove to a deeper part, as soon as the lake is covered with ice. the aurora borealis was brilliantly displayed on both the nights we remained here, but particularly on the 7th, when its appearances were most diversified, and the motion extremely rapid. its coruscations occasionally concealed from sight stars of the first magnitude in passing over them, at other times these were faintly discerned through them; once i perceived a stream of light to illumine the under surface of some clouds as it passed along. there was no perceptible noise. mr. mac murray gave a dance to his voyagers and the women; this is a treat which they expect on the arrival of any stranger at the post. we were presented by this gentleman with the valuable skin of a black fox, which he had entrapped some days before our arrival; it was forwarded to england with other specimens. our observations place the north-west company's house in latitude 55° 53' 00" n., longitude 108° 51' 10" w., variation 22° 33' 22" e. the shores of buffalo lake are of moderate height, and well wooded, but immediately beyond the bank the country is very swampy and intersected with water in every direction. at some distance from the western side there is a conspicuous hill, which we hailed with much pleasure, as being the first interruption to the tediously uniform scene we had for some time passed through. on the 10th we recommenced our journey after breakfast, and travelled quickly, as we had the advantage of a well-beaten track. at the end of eighteen miles we entered upon the river "loche," which has a serpentine course, and is confined between alluvial banks that support stunted willows and a few pines; we encamped about three miles further on; and in the course of the next day's march perceived several holes on the ice, and many unsafe places for the sledges. our companions said the ice of this river is always in the same insecure state, even during the most severe winter, which they attributed to warm springs. quitting the river, we crossed a portage and came upon the methye lake, and soon afterwards arrived at the trading posts on its western side. these were perfect huts, which had been hastily built after the commencement of the last winter. we here saw two hunters who were chipewyan half-breeds, and made many inquiries of them respecting the countries we expected to visit, but we found them quite ignorant of every part beyond the athabasca lake. they spoke of mr. hearne and of his companion matonnabee, but did not add to our stock of information respecting that journey. it had happened before their birth, but they remembered the expedition of sir alexander mackenzie towards the sea. this is a picturesque lake, about ten miles long and six broad, and receives its name from a species of fish caught in it, but not much esteemed; the residents never eat any part but the liver except through necessity, the dogs dislike even that. the tittameg and trout are also caught in the fall of the year. the position of the houses by our observations is latitude 56° 24' 20" n., longitude 109° 23' 06" w., variation 22° 50' 28" e. on the 13th we renewed our journey and parted from mr. clark, to whom we were much obliged for his hospitality and kindness. we soon reached the methye portage, and had a very pleasant ride across it in our carioles. the track was good and led through groups of pines, so happily placed that it would not have required a great stretch of imagination to fancy ourselves in a well-arranged park. we had now to cross a small lake, and then gradually ascended hills beyond it, until we arrived at the summit of a lofty chain of mountains commanding the most picturesque and romantic prospect we had yet seen in this country. two ranges of high hills run parallel to each other for several miles, until the faint blue haze hides their particular characters, when they slightly change their course, and are lost to the view. the space between them is occupied by nearly a level plain, through which a river pursues a meandering course, and receives supplies from the creeks and rills issuing from the mountains on each side. the prospect was delightful even amid the snow, and though marked with all the cheerless characters of winter; how much more charming must it be when the trees are in leaf, and the ground is arrayed in summer verdure! some faint idea of the difference was conveyed to my mind by witnessing the effect of the departing rays of a brilliant sun. the distant prospect, however, is surpassed in grandeur by the wild scenery which appeared immediately below our feet. there the eye penetrates into vast ravines two or three hundred feet in depth, that are clothed with trees, and lie on either side of the narrow pathway descending to the river over eight successive ridges of hills. at one spot termed the cockscomb, the traveller stands insulated as it were on a small slip, where a false step might precipitate him into the glen. from this place mr. back took an interesting and accurate sketch, to allow time for which, we encamped early, having come twenty-one miles. the methye portage is about twelve miles in extent, and over this space the canoes and all their cargoes are carried, both in going to and from the athabasca department. it is part of the range of mountains which separates the waters flowing south from those flowing north. according to sir alexander mackenzie, "this range of hills continues in a s.w. direction until its local height is lost between the saskatchawan and elk rivers, close on the banks of the former, in latitude 53° 36' n., longitude 113° 45' w., when it appears to take its course due north." observations, taken in the spring by mr. hood, place the northside of the portage in latitude 56° 41' 40" n., longitude 109° 52' 15" w., variation 25° 2' 30" e., dip 85° 7' 27". at daylight on the 14th we began to descend the range of hills leading towards the river, and no small care was required to prevent the sledges from being broken in going down these almost perpendicular heights, or being precipitated into the glens on each side. as a precautionary measure the dogs were taken off, and the sledges guided by the men, notwithstanding which they descended with amazing rapidity, and the men were thrown into the most ridiculous attitudes in endeavouring to stop them. when we had arrived at the bottom i could not but feel astonished at the laborious task which the voyagers have twice in the year to encounter at this place, in conveying their stores backwards and forwards. we went across the clear water river, which runs at the bases of these hills, and followed an indian track along its northern bank, by which we avoided the white mud and good portages. we afterwards followed the river as far as the pine portage, when we passed through a very romantic defile of rocks, which presented the appearance of gothic ruins, and their rude characters were happily contrasted with the softness of the snow, and the darker foliage of the pines which crowned their summits. we next crossed the cascade portage, which is the last on the way to the athabasca lake, and soon afterwards came to some indian tents, containing five families, belonging to the chipewyan tribe. we smoked the calumet in the chiefs tent, whose name was the thumb, and distributed some tobacco and a weak mixture of spirits and water among the men. they received this civility with much less grace than the crees, and seemed to consider it a matter of course. there was an utter neglect of cleanliness, and a total want of comfort in their tents; and the poor creatures were miserably clothed. mr. frazer, who accompanied us from the methye lake, accounted for their being in this forlorn condition by explaining, that this band of indians had recently destroyed every thing they possessed, as a token of their great grief for the loss of their relatives in the prevailing sickness. it appears that no article is spared by these unhappy men when a near relative dies; their clothes and tents are cut to pieces, their guns broken, and every other weapon rendered useless, if some person do not remove these articles from their sight, which is seldom done.--mr. back sketched one of the children, which delighted the father very much, who charged the boy to be very good, since his picture had been drawn by a great chief. we learned that they prize pictures very highly, and esteem any they can get, however badly executed, as efficient charms. they were unable to give us any information respecting the country beyond the athabasca lake, which is the boundary of their peregrinations to the northward. having been apprized of our coming, they had prepared an encampment for us; but we had witnessed too many proofs of their importunity to expect that we could pass the night near them in any comfort, whilst either spirits, tobacco, or sugar remained in our possession; and therefore preferred to go about two miles further along the river, and to encamp among a cluster of fine pine-trees, after a journey of sixteen miles. on the morning of the 15th, in proceeding along the river we perceived a strong smell of sulphur, and on the north shore found a quantity of it scattered, which seemed to have been deposited by some spring in the neighbourhood: it appeared very pure and good. we continued our course the whole day along the river, which is about four hundred yards wide, has some islands, and is confined between low land, extending from the bases of the mountains on each side. we put up at the end of thirteen miles, and were then joined by a chipewyan, who came, as we supposed, to serve as our guide to pierre au calumet, but as none of the party could communicate with our new friend, otherwise than by signs, we waited patiently until the morning to see what he intended to do. the wind blew a gale during the night, and the snow fell heavily. the next day our guide led us to the pembina river, which comes from the southward, where we found traces of indians, who appeared to have quitted this station the day before; we had, therefore, the benefit of a good track, which our dogs much required, as they were greatly fatigued, having dragged their loads through very deep snow for the last two days. a moose-deer crossed the river just before the party: this animal is plentiful in the vicinity. we encamped in a pleasant well-sheltered place, having travelled fourteen miles. a short distance on the following morning, brought us to some indian lodges, which belonged to an old chipewyan chief, named the sun, and his family, consisting of five hunters, their wives, and children. they were delighted to see us, and when the object of our expedition had been explained to them, expressed themselves much interested in our progress; but they could not give a particle of information respecting the countries beyond the athabasca lake. we smoked with them, and gave each person a glass of mixed spirits and some tobacco. a canadian servant of the north-west company, who was residing with them, informed us that this family had lost numerous relatives, and that the destruction of property, which had been made after their deaths, was the only cause for the pitiable condition in which we saw them, as the whole family were industrious hunters, and, therefore, were usually better provided with clothes, and other useful articles, than most of the indians. we purchased from them a pair of snow-shoes, in exchange for some ammunition. the chipewyans are celebrated for making them good and easy to walk in; we saw some here upwards of six feet long, and three broad. with these unwieldy clogs an active hunter, in the spring, when there is a crust on the surface of the snow, will run down a moose or red deer. we made very slow progress after leaving this party, on account of the deep snow, but continued along the river until we reached its junction with the athabasca or elk river. we obtained observations on an island, a little below the forks, which gave, longitude 111° 8' 42" w., variation 24° 18' 20" e. very little wood was seen during this day's march. the western shore, near the forks, is destitute of trees; it is composed of lofty perpendicular cliffs, which were now covered with snow. the eastern shore supports a few pines. _march 18_.--soon after our departure from the encampment, we met two men from the establishment at pierre au calumet, who gave us correct information of its situation and distance. having the benefit of their track, we marched at a tolerably quick pace, and made twenty-two miles in the course of the day, though the weather was very disagreeable for travelling, being stormy, with constant snow. we kept along the river the whole time: its breadth is about two miles. the islands appear better furnished with wood than its banks, the summits of which are almost bare. soon after we had encamped our indian guide rejoined us; he had remained behind the day before, without consulting us, to accompany a friend on a hunting excursion. on his return he made no endeavour to explain the reason of his absence, but sat down coolly, and began to prepare his supper. this behaviour made us sensible that little dependence is to be placed on the continuance of an indian guide, when his inclination leads him away. early the next morning we sent forward the indian and a canadian, to apprize the gentleman in charge of pierre au calumet of our approach; and, after breakfast, the rest of the party proceeded along the river for that station, which we reached in the afternoon. the senior partner of the north-west company in the athabasca department, mr. john stuart, was in charge of the post. though he was quite ignorant until this morning of our being in the country, we found him prepared to receive us with great kindness, and ready to afford every information and assistance, agreeably to the desire conveyed in mr. simon mcgillivray's circular letter. this gentleman had twice traversed this continent, and reached the pacific by the columbia river; he was therefore, fully conversant with the different modes of travelling, and with the obstacles that may be expected in passing through unfrequented countries. his suggestions and advice were consequently very valuable to us, but not having been to the northward of the great slave lake, he had no knowledge of that line of country, except what he had gained from the reports of indians. he was of opinion, however, that positive information, on which our course of proceedings might safely be determined, could be procured from the indians that frequent the north side of the lake, when they came to the forts in the spring. he recommended my writing to the partner in charge of that department, requesting him to collect all the intelligence he could, and to provide guides and hunters from the tribe best acquainted with the country through which we proposed to travel. to our great regret, mr. stuart expressed much doubt as to our prevailing upon any experienced canadian voyagers to accompany us to the sea, in consequence of their dread of the esquimaux; who, he informed us, had already destroyed the crew of one canoe, which had been sent under mr. livingstone, to open a trading communication with those who reside near the mouth of the mackenzie river; and he also mentioned, that the same tribe had driven away the canoes under mr. clark's direction, going to them on a similar object, to which circumstance i have alluded in my remarks at isle à la crosse. this was unpleasant information; but we were comforted by mr. stuart's assurance that himself and his partners would use every endeavour to remove their fears, as well as to promote our views in every other way; and he undertook, as a necessary part of our equipment in the spring, to prepare the bark and other materials for constructing two canoes at this post. mr. stuart informed us that the residents at fort chipewyan, from the recent sickness of their indian hunters, had been reduced to subsist entirely on the produce of their fishing-nets, which did not then yield more than a bare sufficiency for their support; and he kindly proposed to us to remain with him until the spring: but, as we were most desirous to gain all the information we could as early as possible, and mr. stuart assured us that the addition of three persons would not be materially felt in their large family at chipewyan, we determined on proceeding thither, and fixed on the 22d for our departure. pierre au calumet receives its name from the place where the stone is procured, of which many of the pipes used by the canadians and indians are made. it is a clayey limestone, impregnated with various shells. the house, which is built on the summit of a steep bank, rising almost perpendicular to the height of one hundred and eighty feet, commands an extensive prospect along this fine river, and over the plains which stretch out several miles at the back of it, bounded by hills of considerable height, and apparently better furnished with wood than the neighbourhood of the fort, where the trees grow very scantily. there had been an establishment belonging to the hudson's bay company on the opposite bank of the river, but it was abandoned in december last, the residents not being able to procure provision, from their hunters having been disabled by the epidemic sickness, which has carried off one-third of the indians in these parts. they belong to the northern crees, a name given them from their residing in the athabasca department. there are now but few families of these men, who, formerly, by their numbers and predatory habits, spread terror among the natives of this part of the country. there are springs of bituminous matter on several of the islands near these houses; and the stones on the river-bank are much impregnated with this useful substance. there is also another place remarkable for the production of a sulphureous salt, which is deposited on the surface of a round-backed hill about half a mile from the beach, and on the marshy ground underneath it. we visited these places at a subsequent period of the journey, and descriptions of them will appear in dr. richardson's mineralogical notices. the latitude of the north-west company's house is 57° 24' 06" n., but this was the only observation we could obtain, the atmosphere being cloudy. mr. stuart had an excellent thermometer, which indicated the lowest state of temperature to be 43° below zero. he told me 45° was the lowest temperature he had ever witnessed at the athabasca or great slave lake, after many years' residence. on the 21st it rose above zero, and at noon attained the height of 43°; the atmosphere was sultry, snow fell constantly, and there was quite an appearance of a change in the season. on the 22d we parted from our hospitable friend, and recommenced our journey, but under the expectation of seeing him again in may; at which time the partners of the company usually assemble at fort chipewyan, where we hoped the necessary arrangements for our future proceedings would be completed. we encamped at sunset at the end of fourteen miles, having walked the whole way along the river, which preserves nearly a true north course, and is from four hundred to six hundred yards broad. the banks are high, and well clothed with the liard, spruce, fir, alder, birch-tree, and willows. having come nineteen miles and a half, on the 23d, we encamped among pines of a great height and girth. showers of snow fell until noon on the following day, but we continued our journey along the river, whose banks and islands became gradually lower as we advanced, and less abundantly supplied with wood, except willows. we passed an old canadian, who was resting his wearied dogs during the heat of the sun. he was carrying meat from some indian lodges to fort chipewyan, having a burden exceeding two hundred and fifty pounds on his sledge, which was dragged by two miserable dogs. he came up to our encampment after dark. we were much amused by the altercation that took place between him and our canadian companions as to the qualifications of their respective dogs. this, however, is such a general topic of conversation among the voyagers in the encampment, that we should not probably have remarked it, had not the old man frequently offered to bet the whole of his wages that his two dogs, poor and lean as they were, would drag their load to the athabasca lake in less time than any three of theirs. having expressed our surprise at his apparent temerity, he coolly said the men from the lower countries did not understand the management of their dogs, and that he depended on his superior skill in driving; and we soon gathered from his remarks, that the voyagers of the athabasca department consider themselves very superior to any other. the only reasons which he could assign were, that they had borne their burdens across the terrible methye portage, and that they were accustomed to live harder and more precariously. _march 25_.--having now the guidance of the old canadian, we sent forward the indian, and one of our men, with letters to the gentleman at the athabasca lake. the rest of the party set off afterwards, and kept along the river until ten, when we branched off by portages into the embarras river, the usual channel of communication in canoes with the lake. it is a narrow and serpentine stream, confined between alluvial banks which support pines, poplars, and willows. we had not advanced far before we overtook the two men despatched by us this morning. the stormy weather had compelled them to encamp, as there was too much drifting of the snow for any attempt to cross the lake. we were obliged, though most reluctantly, to follow their example; but comforted ourselves with the reflection that this was the first time we had been stopped by the weather during our long journey, which was so near at an end. the gale afterwards increased, the squalls at night became very violent, disburthened the trees of the snow, and gave us the benefit of a continual fall of patches from them, in addition to the constant shower. we therefore quickly finished our suppers, and retired under the shelter of our blankets. _march 26_.--the boisterous weather continued through the night, and it was not before six this morning that the wind became apparently moderate, and the snow ceased. two of the canadians were immediately sent off with letters to the gentlemen at fort chipewyan. after breakfast we also started, but our indian friend, having a great indisposition to move in such weather, remained by the fire. we soon quitted the river, and after crossing a portage, a small lake, and a point of land, came to the borders of the mamma-wee lake. we then found our error as to the strength of the wind; and that the gale still blew violently, and there was so much drifting of the snow as to cover the distant objects by which our course could be directed. we fortunately got a glimpse through this cloud of a cluster of islands in the direction of the houses, and decided on walking towards them; but in doing this we suffered very much from the cold, and were obliged to halt under the shelter of them, and await the arrival of our indian guide. he conducted us between these islands, over a small lake and by a swampy river, into the athabasca lake, from whence the establishments were visible. at four p.m. we had the pleasure of arriving at fort chipewyan, and of being received by messrs. keith and black, the partners of the north-west company in charge, in the most kind and hospitable manner. thus terminated a winter's journey of eight hundred and fifty-seven miles, in the progress of which there was a great intermixture of agreeable and disagreeable circumstances. could the amount of each be balanced, i suspect the latter would much preponderate; and amongst these the initiation into walking in snow-shoes must be considered as prominent. the suffering it occasions can be but faintly imagined by a person who thinks upon the inconvenience of marching with a weight of between two and three pounds constantly attached to galled feet, and swelled ankles. perseverance and practice only will enable the novice to surmount this pain. the next evil is the being constantly exposed to witness the wanton and unnecessary cruelty of the men to their dogs, especially those of the canadians, who beat them unmercifully, and habitually vent on them the most dreadful and disgusting imprecations. there are other inconveniences which though keenly felt during the day's journey, are speedily forgotten when stretched out in the encampment before a large fire, you enjoy the social mirth of your companions, who usually pass the evening in recounting their former feats in travelling. at this time the canadians are always cheerful and merry, and the only bar to their comfort arises from the frequent interruption occasioned by the dogs, who are constantly prowling about the circle, and snatching at every kind of food that happens to be within their reach. these useful animals are a comfort to them afterwards, by the warmth they impart when lying down by their side or feet, as they usually do. but the greatest gratifications a traveller in these regions enjoys, are derived from the hospitable welcome he receives at every trading post, however poor the means of the host may be; and from being disrobed even for a short time of the trappings of a voyager, and experiencing the pleasures of cleanliness. the following are the estimated distances, in statute miles, which mr. back and i had travelled since our departure from cumberland: from cumberland house to carlton house 263 from carlton to isle à la crosse 230 from isle à la crosse to north side of the methye portage 124 from the methye portage to fort chipewyan 240 --- 857 miles. chapter v. transactions at fort chipewyan--arrival of dr. richardson and mr. hood--preparations for our journey to the northward. 1820. march 26. on the day after our arrival at fort chipewyan we called upon mr. mac donald, the gentleman in charge of the hudson's bay establishment called fort wedderburne, and delivered to him governor williams's circular letter, which desired that every assistance should be given to further our progress, and a statement of the requisitions which we should have to make on his post. our first object was to obtain some certain information respecting our future route; and accordingly we received from one of the north-west company's interpreters, named beaulieu, a half-breed, who had been brought up amongst the dog-ribbed and copper indians, some satisfactory information which we afterwards found tolerably correct, respecting the mode of reaching the copper-mine{37} river, which he had descended a considerable way, as well as of the course of that river to its mouth. the copper indians, however, he said, would be able to give us more accurate information as to the latter part of its course, as they occasionally pursue it to the sea. he sketched on the floor a representation of the river, and a line of coast according to his idea of it. just as he had finished, an old chipewyan indian named black meat, unexpectedly came in, and instantly recognised the plan. he then took the charcoal from beaulieu, and inserted a track along the sea-coast, which he had followed in returning from a war excursion, made by his tribe against the esquimaux. he detailed several particulars of the coast and the sea, which he represented as studded with well-wooded islands, and free from ice, close to the shore, in the month of july, but not to a great distance. he described two other rivers to the eastward of the copper-mine{38} river, which also fall into the northern ocean. the anatessy, which issues from the contway-to or rum lake, and the thloueea-tessy or fish river, which rises near the eastern boundary of the great slave lake; but he represented both of them as being shallow, and too much interrupted by barriers for being navigated in any other than small indian canoes. having received this satisfactory intelligence, i wrote immediately to mr. smith, of the north-west company, and mr. mcvicar, of the hudson's bay company, the gentlemen in charge of the posts at the great slave lake, to communicate the object of the expedition, and our proposed route; and to solicit any information they possessed, or could collect, from the indians, relative to the countries we had to pass through, and the best manner of proceeding. as the copper indians frequent the establishment on the north side of the lake, i particularly requested them to explain to that tribe the object of our visit, and to endeavour to procure from them some guides and hunters to accompany our party. two canadians were sent by mr. keith with these letters. the month of april commenced with fine and clear but extremely cold weather; unfortunately we were still without a thermometer, and could not ascertain the degrees of temperature. the coruscations of the aurora were very brilliant almost every evening of the first week, and were generally of the most variable kind. on the 3d they were particularly changeable. the first appearance exhibited three illuminated beams issuing from the horizon in the north, east, and west points, and directed towards the zenith; in a few seconds these disappeared, and a complete circle was displayed, bounding the horizon at an elevation of fifteen degrees. there was a quick lateral motion in the attenuated beams of which this zone was composed. its colour was a pale yellow, with an occasional tinge of red. on the 8th of april the indians saw some geese in the vicinity of this lake, but none of the migratory birds appeared near the houses before the 15th, when some swans flew over. these are generally the first that arrive; the weather had been very stormy for the four preceding days, and this in all probability kept the birds from venturing farther north than where the indians had first seen them. in the middle of the month the snow began to waste daily, and by degrees it disappeared from the hills and the surface of the lake. on the 17th and 19th the aurora appeared very brilliant in patches of light, bearing n.w. an old cree indian having found a beaver-lodge near to the fort, mr. keith, back, and i, accompanied him to see the method of breaking into it, and their mode of taking those interesting animals. the lodge was constructed on the side of a rock in a small lake, having the entrance into it beneath the ice. the frames were formed of layers of sticks, the interstices being filled with mud, and the outside was plastered with earth and stones, which the frost had so completely consolidated, that to break through required great labour, with the aid of the ice chisel, and the other iron instruments which the beaver hunters use. the chase however, was unsuccessful, as the beaver had previously vacated the lodge. on the 21st we observed the first geese that flew near the fort, and some were brought to the house on the 30th, but they were very lean. on the 25th flies were seen sporting in the sun, and on the 26th the athabasca river having broken up, overflowed the lake along its channel; but except where this water spread, there was no appearance of decay in the ice. _may_.--during the first part of this month, the wind blew from the n.w., and the sky was cloudy. it generally thawed during the day, but froze at night. on the 2nd the aurora faintly gleamed through very dense clouds. we had a long conversation with mr. dease of the north-west company, who had recently arrived from his station at the bottom of the athabasca lake. this gentleman, having passed several winters on the mackenzie's river, and at the posts to the northward of slave lake, possessed considerable information respecting the indians, and those parts of the country to which our inquiries were directed, which he very promptly and kindly communicated. during our conversation, an old chipewyan indian, named the rabbit's head, entered the room, to whom mr. dease referred for information on some point. we found from his answer that he was a step-son of the late chief matonnabee, who had accompanied mr. hearne on his journey to the sea, and that he had himself been of the party, but being then a mere boy, he had forgotten many of the circumstances. he confirmed however, the leading incidents related by hearne, and was positive he reached the sea, though he admitted that none of the party had tasted the water. he represented himself to be the only survivor of that party. as he was esteemed a good indian, i presented him with a medal, which he received gratefully, and concluded a long speech upon the occasion, by assuring me he should preserve it carefully all his life. the old man afterwards became more communicative, and unsolicited began to relate the tradition of his tribe, respecting the discovery of the copper mine, which we thought amusing: and as the subject is somewhat connected with our future researches, i will insert the translation of it which was given at the time by mr. dease, though a slight mention of it has been made by hearne. "the chipewyans suppose the esquimaux originally inhabited some land to the northward which is separated by the sea from this country; and that in the earliest ages of the world a party of these men came over and stole a woman from their tribe, whom they carried to this distant country and kept in a state of slavery. she was very unhappy in her situation, and effected her escape after many years residence among them. the forlorn creature wandered about, for some days, in a state of uncertainty what direction to take, when she chanced to fall upon a beaten path, which she followed and was led to the sea. at the sight of the ocean her hope of being able to return to her native country vanished, and she sat herself down in despair, and wept. a wolf now advanced to caress her, and having licked the tears from her eyes, walked into the water, and she perceived with joy that it did not reach up to the body of the animal; emboldened by this appearance, she instantly arose, provided two sticks to support herself, and determined on following the wolf. the first and second nights she proceeded on, without finding any increase in the depth of the water, and when fatigued, rested herself on the sticks, whose upper ends she fastened together for the purpose. she was alarmed on the third morning, by arriving at a deeper part, but resolved on going forward at any risk, rather than return; and her daring perseverance was crowned with success, by her attaining her native shore on the fifth day. she fortunately came to a part where there was a beaten path, which she knew to be the track made by the rein-deer in their migrations. here she halted and prepared some sort of weapon for killing them; as soon as this was completed, she had the gratification to behold several herds advancing along the road, and had the happiness of killing a sufficient number for her winter's subsistence, which she determined to pass at that place, and therefore formed a house for herself, after the manner she had learned from the esquimaux. when spring came, and she emerged from her subterraneous dwelling, (for such the chipewyans suppose it to have been,) she was astonished by observing a glittering appearance on a distant hill, which she knew was not produced by the reflection of the sun, and being at a loss to assign any other cause for it she resolved on going up to the shining object, and then found the hill was entirely composed of copper. she broke off several pieces, and finding it yielded so readily to her beating, it occurred to her that this metal would be very serviceable to her countrymen, if she could find them again. while she was meditating on what was to be done, the thought struck her that it would be advisable to attach as many pieces of copper to her dress as she could, and then proceed into the interior, in search of some inhabitants, who, she supposed, would give her a favourable reception, on account of the treasure she had brought. "it happened that she met her own relations, and the young men, elated with the account she had given of the hill, made her instantly return with them; which she was enabled to do, having taken the precaution of putting up marks to indicate the path. the party reached the spot in safety, but the story had a melancholy catastrophe. these youths overcome by excess of joy, gave loose to their passions, and offered the grossest insults to their benefactress. she powerfully resisted them for some time, and when her strength was failing, fled to the point of the mountain, as the only place of security. the moment she had gained the summit, the earth opened and ingulphed both herself and the mountain, to the utter dismay of the men, who were not more astonished at its sudden disappearance, than sorrowful for this just punishment of their wickedness. ever since this event, the copper has only been found in small detached pieces on the surface of the earth." on the 10th of may we were gratified by the appearance of spring, though the ice remained firm on the lake. the anemone (pulsatilla, pasque flower,) appeared this day in flower, the trees began to put forth their leaves, and the musquitoes visited the warm rooms. on the 17th and 18th there were frequent showers of rain, and much thunder and lightning. this moist weather caused the ice to waste so rapidly, that by the 24th it had entirely disappeared from the lake. the gentlemen belonging to both the companies quickly arrived from the different posts in this department, bringing their winter's collection of furs, which are forwarded from these establishments to the depôts. i immediately waited on mr. colin robertson, the agent of the hudson's company, and communicated to him, as i had done before to the several partners of the north-west company, our plan, and the requisitions we should have to make on each company, and i requested of all the gentlemen the favour of their advice and suggestions. as i perceived that the arrangement of their winter accounts, and other business, fully occupied them, i forbore further pressing the subject of our concerns for some days, until there was an appearance of despatching the first brigade of canoes. it then became necessary to urge their attention to them; but it was evident, from the determined commercial opposition, and the total want of intercourse between the two companies, that we could not expect to receive any cordial advice, or the assurance of the aid of both, without devising some expedient to bring the parties together. i therefore caused a tent to be pitched at a distance from both establishments, and solicited the gentlemen of both companies to meet mr. back and myself there, for the purpose of affording us their combined assistance. with this request they immediately complied; and on may 25th we were joined at the tent by mr. stuart and mr. grant, of the north-west company, and mr. colin robertson, of the hudson's bay company, all of whom kindly gave very satisfactory answers to a series of questions which we had drawn up for the occasion, and promised all the aid in their power. furnished with the information thus obtained, we proceeded to make some arrangements respecting the obtaining of men, and the stores we should require for their equipment, as well as for presents to the indians; and on the following day a requisition was made on the companies for eight men each, and whatever useful stores they could supply. we learned with regret, that, in consequence of the recent lavish expenditure of their goods in support of the opposition, their supply to us would, of necessity, be very limited. the men, too, were backward in offering their services, especially those of the hudson's bay company, who demanded a much higher rate of wages than i considered it proper to grant. _june 3_.--mr. smith, a partner of the north-west company, arrived from the great slave lake, bearing the welcome news that the principal chief of the copper indians had received the communication of our arrival with joy, and given all the intelligence he possessed respecting the route to the sea-coast by the copper-mine river; and that he and a party of his men, at the instance of mr. wentzel, a clerk of the north-west company, whom they wished might go along with them, had engaged to accompany the expedition as guides and hunters. they were to wait our arrival at fort providence, on the north side of the slave lake. their information coincided with that given by beaulieu. they had no doubt of our being able to obtain the means of subsistence in travelling to the coast. this agreeable intelligence had a happy effect upon the canadian voyagers, many of their fears being removed: several of them seemed now disposed to volunteer; and indeed, on the same evening, two men from the north-west company offered themselves and were accepted. _june 5_.--this day mr. back and i went over to fort wedderburne, to see mr. robertson respecting his quota of men. we learned from him that, notwithstanding his endeavours to persuade them, his most experienced voyagers still declined engaging without very exorbitant wages. after some hesitation, however, six men engaged with us, who were represented to be active and steady; and i also got mr. robertson's permission for st. germain, an interpreter belonging to this company, to accompany us from slave lake if he should choose. the bowmen and steersmen{39} were to receive one thousand six hundred livres halifax per annum, and the middle men one thousand two hundred, exclusive of their necessary equipments; and they stipulated that their wages should be continued until their arrival in montreal, or their rejoining the service of their present employers. i delivered to mr. robertson an official request, that the stores we had left at york factory and the rock depôt, with some other supplies, might be forwarded to slave lake by the first brigade of canoes which should come in. he also took charge of my letters addressed to the admiralty. five men were afterwards engaged from the north-west company for the same wages, and under the same stipulations as the others, besides an interpreter for the copper indians; but this man required three thousand livres halifax currency, which we were obliged to give him, as his services were indispensable. the extreme scarcity of provision at the posts rendered it necessary to despatch all our men to the mamma-wee{40} lake, where they might procure their own subsistence by fishing. the women and children resident at the fort were also sent away for the same purpose; and no other families were permitted to remain at the houses after the departure of the canoes, than those belonging to the men who were required to carry on the daily duty. the large party of officers and men, which had assembled here from the different posts in the department, was again quickly dispersed. the first brigade of canoes, laden with furs, was despatched to the depôt on may 30th, and the others followed in two or three days afterwards. mr. stuart, the senior partner of the north-west company, quitted us for the same destination, on june 4th; mr. robertson, for his depôt, on the next day; and on the 9th we parted with our friend mr. keith, to whose unremitting kindness we felt much indebted. i intrusted to his care a box containing some drawings by mr. back, the map of our route from cumberland house, and the skin of a black beaver, (presented to the expedition by mr. smith,) with my official letters, addressed to the under secretary of state. i wrote by each of these gentlemen to inform dr. richardson and mr. hood of the scarcity of stores at these posts, and to request them to procure all they possibly could on their route. mr. smith was left in charge of this post during the summer; this gentleman soon evinced his desire to further our progress, by directing a new canoe to be built for our use, which was commenced immediately. _june 21_.--this day an opportunity offered of sending letters to the great slave lake; and i profited by it, to request mr. wentzel would accompany the expedition agreeably to the desire of the copper indians, communicating to him that i had received permission for him to do so from the partners of the north-west company. should he be disposed to comply with my invitation, i desired that he would go over to fort providence, and remain near the indians whom he had engaged for our service. i feared lest they should become impatient at our unexpected delay, and, with the usual fickleness of the indian character, remove from the establishment before we could arrive. it had been my intention to go to them myself, could the articles, with which they expected to be presented on my arrival, have been provided at these establishments; but as they could not be procured, i was compelled to defer my visit until our canoes should arrive. mr. smith supposed that my appearance amongst them, without the means of satisfying any of their desires, would give them an unfavourable impression respecting the expedition, which would make them indifferent to exertion, if it did not even cause them to withdraw from their engagements. the establishments at this place, forts chipewyan and wedderburne, the chief posts of the companies in this department, are conveniently situated for communicating with the slave and peace rivers, from whence the canoes assemble in the spring and autumn; on the first occasion they bring the collection of furs which has been made at the different out-posts during the winter; and at the latter season they receive a supply of stores for the equipment of the indians in their vicinity. fort wedderburne is a small house, which was constructed on coal island about five years ago, when the hudson's bay company recommenced trading in this part of the country. fort chipewyan has been built many years, and is an establishment of very considerable extent, conspicuously situated on a rocky point of the northern shore; it has a tower which can be seen at a considerable distance. this addition was made about eight years ago, to watch the motions of the indians, who intended, as it was then reported, to destroy the house and all its inhabitants. they had been instigated to this rash design by the delusive stories of one among them, who had acquired great influence over his companions by his supposed skill in necromancy. this fellow had prophesied that there would soon be a complete change in the face of their country; that fertility and plenty would succeed to the present sterility; and that the present race of white inhabitants, unless they became subservient to the indians, would be removed, and their place be filled by other traders, who would supply their wants in every possible manner. the poor deluded wretches, imagining they would hasten this happy change by destroying their present traders, of whose submission there was no prospect, threatened to extirpate them. none of these menaces, however, were put in execution. they were probably deterred from the attempt by perceiving that a most vigilant guard was kept against them. the portion of this extensive lake which is near the establishments, is called "the lake of the hills," not improperly, as the northern shore and the islands are high and rocky. the south side, however, is quite level, consisting of alluvial land, subject to be flooded, lying betwixt the different mouths of the elk river, and much intersected by water. the rocks of the northern shore are composed of syenite over which the soil is thinly spread; it is, however, sufficient to support a variety of firs and poplars, and many shrubs, lichens and mosses. the trees were now in full foliage, the plants generally in flower, and the whole scene quite enlivening. there can scarcely be a higher gratification than that which is enjoyed in this country in witnessing the rapid change which takes place in the course of a few days in the spring; scarcely does the snow disappear from the ground, before the trees are clothed with thick foliage, the shrubs open their leaves, and put forth their variegated flowers, and the whole prospect becomes animating. the spaces between the rocky hills, being for the most part swampy, support willows and a few poplars. these spots are the favourite resort of the musquitoes, which incessantly torment the unfortunate persons who have to pass through them. some of the hills attain an elevation of five or six hundred feet, at the distance of a mile from the house; and from their summits a very picturesque view is commanded of the lake, and of the surrounding country. the land above the great point at the confluence of the main stream of the elk river is six or seven hundred feet high, and stretches in a southern direction behind pierre au calumet. opposite to that establishment, on the west side of the river, at some distance in the interior, the bark mountain rises and ranges to the n.w., until it reaches clear lake, about thirty miles to the southward of these forts, and then goes to the south-westward. the cree indians generally procure from this range their provision, as well as the bark for making their canoes. there is another range of hills on the south shore, which runs towards the peace river. the residents of these establishments depend for subsistence almost entirely on the fish which this lake affords; they are usually caught in sufficient abundance throughout the winter, though at the distance of eighteen miles from the houses; on the thawing of the ice, the fish remove into some smaller lakes, and the rivers on the south shore. though they are nearer to the forts than in winter, it frequently happens that high winds prevent the canoes from transporting them thither, and the residents are kept in consequence without a supply of food for two or three days together. the fish caught in the net are the attihhawmegh{41}, trout, carp, methye, and pike[15]. [15] see page 143-4{42}. the traders also get supplied by the hunters with buffalo and moose deer meat, (which animals are found at some distance from the forts,) but the greater part of it is either in a dried state, or pounded ready for making pemmican; and is required for the men whom they keep travelling during the winter to collect the furs from the indians, and for the crews of the canoes on their outward passage to the depôts in spring. there was a great want of provision this season, and both the companies had much difficulty to provide a bare sufficiency, for their different brigades of canoes. mr. smith assured me that after the canoes had been despatched he had only five hundred pounds of meat remaining for the use of the men who might travel from the post during the summer, and that five years preceding, there had been thirty thousand pounds in store under similar circumstances. he ascribed this amazing difference more to the indolent habits which the indians had acquired since the commercial struggle commenced, than to their recent sickness, mentioning in confirmation of his opinion that they could now, by the produce of little exertion, obtain whatever they demanded from either establishment. at the opening of the water in spring, the indians resort to the establishments to settle their accounts with the traders, and to procure the necessaries they require for the summer. this meeting is generally a scene of much riot and confusion, as the hunters receive such quantities of spirits as to keep them in a state of intoxication for several days. this spring, however, owing to the great deficiency of spirits, we had the gratification of seeing them generally sober. they belong to the great family of the chipewyan, or northern, indians; dialects of their language being spoken in the peace, and mackenzie's rivers, and by the populous tribes in new caledonia, as ascertained by sir alexander mackenzie in his journey to the pacific. they style themselves generally _dinneh_ men, or indians, but each tribe, or horde, adds some distinctive epithet taken from the name of the river, or lake, on which they hunt, or the district from which they last migrated. those who come to fort chipewyan term themselves saw-eessaw-dinneh, (indians from the rising sun, or eastern indians,) their original hunting grounds being between the athabasca, and great slave lakes, and churchill river. this district, more particularly termed the chipewyan lands, or _barren country_, is frequented by numerous herds of rein-deer, which furnish easy subsistence, and clothing to the indians; but the traders endeavour to keep them in the parts to the westward where the beavers resort. there are about one hundred and sixty hunters who carry their furs to the great slave lake, forty to hay river, and two hundred and forty to fort chipewyan. a few northern indians also resort to the posts at the bottom of the lake of the hills, on red deer lake, and to churchill. the distance, however, of the latter post from their hunting grounds, and the sufferings to which they are exposed in going thither from want of food, have induced those who were formerly accustomed to visit it, to convey their furs to some nearer station. these people are so minutely described by hearne and mackenzie, that little can be added by a passing stranger, whose observations were made during short interviews, and when they were at the forts, where they lay aside many of their distinguishing characteristics, and strive to imitate the manners of the voyagers and traders. the chipewyans are by no means prepossessing in appearance: they have broad faces, projecting cheek-bones and wide nostrils; but they have generally good teeth, and fine eyes. when at the fort they imitate the dress of the canadians, except that, instead of trowsers, they prefer the indian stockings, which only reach from the thigh to the ancle, and in place of the waistband they have a piece of cloth round the middle which hangs down loosely before and behind. their hunting dress consists of a leathern shirt and stockings, over which a blanket is thrown, the head being covered with a fur cap or band. their manner is reserved, and their habits are selfish; they beg with unceasing importunity for every thing they see. i never saw men who either received or bestowed a gift with such bad grace; they almost snatch the thing from you in the one instance, and throw it at you in the other. it could not be expected that such men should display in their tents, the amiable hospitality which prevails generally amongst the indians of this country. a stranger may go away hungry from their lodges, unless he possess sufficient impudence to thrust, uninvited, his knife into the kettle, and help himself. the owner, indeed, never deigns to take any notice of such an act of rudeness, except by a frown, it being beneath the dignity of a hunter, to make disturbance about a piece of meat. as some relief to the darker shades of their character it should be stated that instances of theft are extremely rare amongst them. they profess strong affection for their children, and some regard for their relations, who are often numerous, as they trace very far the ties of consanguinity. a curious instance of the former was mentioned to us, and so well authenticated, that i shall venture to give it in the words of dr. richardson's journal. "a young chipewyan had separated from the rest of his band for the purpose of trenching beaver, when his wife, who was his sole companion, and in her first pregnancy, was seized with the pains of labour. she died on the third day after she had given birth to a boy. the husband was inconsolable, and vowed in his anguish never to take another woman to wife, but his grief was soon in some degree absorbed in anxiety for the fate of his infant son. to preserve its life he descended to the office of nurse, so degrading in the eyes of a chipewyan, as partaking of the duties of a woman. he swaddled it in soft moss, fed it with broth made from the flesh of the deer, and to still its cries applied it to his breast, praying earnestly to the great master of life, to assist his endeavours. the force of the powerful passion by which he was actuated produced the same effect in his case, as it has done in some others which are recorded: a flow of milk actually took place from his breast. he succeeded in rearing his child, taught him to be a hunter, and when he attained the age of manhood, chose him a wife from the tribe. the old man kept his vow in never taking a second wife himself, but he delighted in tending his son's children, and when his daughter-in-law used to interfere, saying, that it was not the occupation of a man, he was wont to reply, that he had promised to the great master of life, if his child were spared, never to be proud, like the other indians. he used to mention, too, as a certain proof of the approbation of providence, that although he was always obliged to carry his child on his back while hunting, yet that it never roused a moose by its cries, being always particularly still at those times. our informant[16] added that he had often seen this indian in his old age, and that his left breast, even then, retained the unusual size it had acquired in his occupation of nurse." [16] mr. wentzel. we had proof of their sensibility towards their relations, in their declining to pitch their tents where they had been accustomed for many years, alleging a fear of being reminded of the happy hours they had formerly spent there, in the society of the affectionate relatives whom the sickness had recently carried off. the change of situation, however, had not the effect of relieving them from sorrowful impressions, and they occasionally{43} indulged in very loud lamentations, as they sat in groups, within and without their tents. unfortunately, the spreading of a severe dysentery amongst them, at this time, gave occasion for the renewal of their grief. the medicinal charms of drumming and singing were plentifully applied, and once they had recourse to conjuring over a sick person. i was informed, however, that the northern indians do not make this expedient for the cure of a patient so often as the crees; but when they do, the conjuror is most assiduous, and suffers great personal fatigue. particular persons only, are trained in the mysteries of the art of conjuring, to procure the recovery of the sick, or to disclose future events. on extraordinary occasions the man remains in his narrow conjuring tent, for days without eating, before he can determine the matter to his satisfaction. when he is consulted about the sick, the patient is shut up with him; but on other occasions he is alone, and the poor creature often works his mind up to a pitch of illusion that can scarcely be imagined by one who has not witnessed it. his deluded companions seat themselves round his tent, and await his communication with earnest anxiety, yet during the progress of his manoeuvres, they often venture to question him, as to the disposition of the great spirit. these artful fellows usually gain complete ascendancy over the minds of their companions. they are supported by voluntary contributions of provision, that their minds may not be diverted by the labour of hunting, from the peculiar duties of their profession. the chiefs among the chipewyans are now totally without power. the presents of a flag, and a gaudy dress, still bestowed upon them by the traders, do not procure for them any respect or obedience, except from the youths of their own families. this is to be attributed mainly to their living at peace with their neighbours, and to the facility which the young men find in{44} getting their wants supplied independent of the recommendation of the chiefs, which was formerly required. in war excursions, boldness and intrepidity would still command respect and procure authority; but the influence thus acquired would, probably, cease with the occasion that called it forth. the traders, however, endeavour to support their authority by continuing towards them the accustomed marks of respect, hoisting the flag and firing a salute of musketry on their entering the fort. the chief halts at a distance from the house, and despatches one of his young men to announce his approach, and to bring his flag, which is carried before him when he arrives. the messenger carries back to him some vermilion to ornament the faces of his party, together with a looking-glass and comb, some tobacco, and a few rounds of ammunition, that they may return the salute. these men paint round the eyes, the forehead, and the cheek-bones. the northern indians evince no little vanity, by assuming to themselves the comprehensive title of "the people," whilst they designate all other nations by the name of their particular country. if men were seen at a distance, and a chipewyan was asked who those persons were, he would answer, the people, if he recognised them to belong to his tribe, and never chipewyans; but he would give them their respective names, if they were europeans, canadians, or cree indians. as they suppose their ancestors to come originally from the east, those who happen to be born in the eastern part of their territory, are considered to be of the purest race. i have been informed, that all the indians who trade at the different posts in the north-west parts of america, imagine that their forefathers came from the east, except the dog-ribs, who reside between the copper indian islands and the mackenzie's river, and who deduce their origin from the west, which is the more remarkable, as they speak a dialect of the chipewyan language. i could gather no information respecting their religious opinions, except that they have a tradition of the deluge. the chipewyans are considered to be less expert hunters than the crees, which probably arises from their residing much on the barren lands, where the rein-deer are so numerous that little skill is requisite. a good hunter, however, is highly esteemed among them. the facility of procuring goods, since the commercial opposition commenced, has given great encouragement to their native indolence of disposition, as is manifested by the difference in the amount of their collections of furs and provision between the late and former years. from six to eight hundred packs of furs used formerly to be sent from this department, now the return seldom exceeds half that amount. the decrease in the provision has been already mentioned. the northern indians suppose that they originally sprang from a dog; and about five years ago, a superstitious fanatic so strongly pressed upon their minds the impropriety of employing these animals, to which they were related, for purposes of labour, that they universally resolved against using them any more, and, strange as it may seem, destroyed them. they now have to drag every thing themselves on sledges. this laborious task falls most heavily on the women; nothing can more shock the feelings of a person accustomed to civilized life, than to witness the state of their degradation. when a party is on a march the women have to drag the tent, the meat, and whatever the hunter possesses, whilst he only carries his gun and medicine case. in the evening they form the encampment, cut wood, fetch water, and prepare the supper; and then, perhaps, are not permitted to partake of the fare until the men have finished. a successful hunter sometimes has two or three wives; whoever happens to be the favourite, assumes authority over the others, and has the management of the tent. these men usually treat their wives unkindly, and even with harshness; except, indeed, when they are about to increase the family, and then they shew them much indulgence. hearne charges the chipewyans with the dreadful practice of abandoning, in extremity, their aged and sick people. the only instance that came under our personal notice was attended with some palliating circumstances:--an old woman arrived at fort chipewyan, during our residence, with her son, a little boy, about ten years old, both of whom had been deserted by their relations, and left in an encampment, when much reduced by sickness: two or three days after their departure the woman gained a little strength, and with the assistance of the boy, was enabled to paddle a canoe to the fishing station of this post, where they were supported for some days, until they were enabled to proceed in search of some other relations, who, they expected, would treat them with more kindness. i learned, that the woman bore an extremely bad character, having even been guilty of infanticide, and that her companions considered her offences merited the desertion. this tribe, since its present intimate connexion with the traders, has discontinued its war excursions against the esquimaux, but they still speak of that nation in terms of the most inveterate hatred. we have only conversed with four men who have been engaged in any of those expeditions; all these confirm the statements of black-meat respecting the sea-coast. our observations concerning the half-breed population in this vicinity, coincided so exactly with those which have been given of similar persons in dr. richardson's account of the crees, that any statement respecting them at this place is unnecessary. both the companies have wisely prohibited their servants from intermarrying with pure indian women, which was formerly the cause of many quarrels with the tribes. the weather was extremely variable during the month of june; we scarcely had two clear days in succession, and the showers of rain were frequent; the winds were often strong, and generally blowing from the north-east quarter. on the evening of the 16th the aurora borealis was visible, but after that date the nights were too light for our discerning it. the musquitoes swarmed in great numbers about the house, and tormented us so incessantly by their irritating stings, that we were compelled to keep our rooms constantly filled with smoke, which is the only means of driving them away: the weather indeed was now warm. having received one of dollond's eighteen-inch spirit thermometers from mr. stuart, which he had the kindness to send us from his post at pierre au calumet, after he had learned that ours had been rendered useless, i observed the temperature, at noon, on the 25th of june, to be 63°. on the following morning we made an excursion, accompanied by mr. smith, round the fishing stations on the south side of the lake, for the purpose of visiting our men; we passed several groups of women and children belonging to both the forts, posted wherever they could find a sufficiently dry spot for an encampment. at length we came to our men, pitched upon a narrow strip of land, situated between two rivers. though the portion of dry ground did not exceed fifty yards, yet they appeared to be living very comfortably, having formed huts with the canoe's sail and covering, and were amply supported by the fish their nets daily furnished. they sometimes had a change in their fare, by procuring a few ducks and other water-fowl, which resort in great abundance to the marshes, by which they were surrounded. _july 2_.--the canoe, which was ordered to be built for our use, was finished. as it was constructed after the manner, described by hearne, and several of the american travellers, a detail of the process will be unnecessary. its extreme length was thirty two feet six inches, including the bow and stern pieces, its greatest breadth was four feet ten inches, but it was only two feet nine inches forward where the bowman sat, and two feet four inches behind where the steersman was placed; and its depth was one foot eleven and a quarter inches. there were seventy-three hoops of thin cedar, and a layer of slender laths of the same wood within the frame. these feeble vessels of bark will carry twenty-five pieces of goods, each weighing ninety pounds, exclusive of the necessary provision and baggage for the crew of five or six men, amounting in the whole to about three thousand three hundred pounds' weight. this great lading they annually carry between the depôts and the posts, in the interior; and it rarely happens that any accidents occur, if they be managed by experienced bowmen and steersmen, on whose skill the safety of the canoe entirely depends in the rapids and difficult places. when a total portage is made, these two men carry the canoe, and they often run with it, though its weight is estimated at about three hundred pounds, exclusive of the poles and oars, which are occasionally left in where the distance is short. on the 5th, we made an excursion for the purpose of trying our canoe. a heavy gale came on in the evening, which caused a great swell in the lake, and in crossing the waves we had the satisfaction to find that our birchen vessel proved an excellent sea-boat. _july 7_.--this morning some men, and their families, who had been sent off to search for indians with whom they intended to pass the summer, returned to the fort in consequence of a serious accident having befallen their canoe in the red deer river; when they were in the act of hauling up a strong rapid, the line broke, the canoe was overturned, and two of the party narrowly escaped drowning; fortunately the women and children happened to be on shore, or, in all probability, they would have perished in the confusion of the scene. nearly all their stores, their guns and fishing nets, were lost, and they could not procure any other food for the last four days than some unripe berries. some gentlemen arrived in the evening with a party of chipewyan indians, from hay river, a post between the peace river, and the great slave lake. these men gave distressing accounts of sickness among their relatives, and the indians in general along the peace river, and they said many of them have died. the disease was described as dysentery. on the 10th and 11th we had very sultry weather, and were dreadfully tormented by musquitoes. the highest temperature was 73°. _july 13_.--this morning mr. back and i had the sincere gratification of welcoming our long-separated friends, dr. richardson and mr. hood, who arrived in perfect health with two canoes, having made a very expeditious journey from cumberland, notwithstanding they were detained near three days in consequence of the melancholy loss of one of their bowmen, by the upsetting of a canoe in a strong rapid; but, as the occurrences of this journey, together with the mention of some other circumstances that happened previous to their departure from cumberland, which have been extracted from mr. hood's narrative, will appear in the following chapter, it will be unnecessary to enter farther into these points now. the zeal and talent displayed by dr. richardson and mr. hood, in the discharge of their several duties since my separation from them, drew forth my highest approbation. these gentlemen had brought all the stores they could procure from the establishments at cumberland and isle à la crosse; and at the latter place they had received ten bags of pemmican from the north-west company, which proved to be mouldy, and so totally unfit for use, that it was left at the methye portage. they got none from the hudson's bay post. the voyagers belonging to that company, being destitute of provision, had eaten what was intended for us. in consequence of these untoward circumstances, the canoes arrived with only one day's supply of this most essential article. the prospect of having to commence our journey from hence, almost destitute of provision, and scantily supplied with stores, was distressing to us, and very discouraging to the men. it was evident, however, that any unnecessary delay here would have been very imprudent, as fort chipewyan did not, at the present time, furnish the means of subsistence for so large a party, much less was there a prospect of our receiving any supply to carry us forward. we, therefore, hastened to make the necessary arrangements for our speedy departure. all the stores were demanded that could possibly be spared from both the establishments; and we rejoiced to find, that when this collection was added to the articles that had been brought up by the canoes, we had a sufficient quantity of clothing for the equipment of the men who had been engaged here, as well as to furnish a present to the indians, besides some few goods for the winter's consumption; but we could not procure any ammunition, which was the most essential article, or spirits, and but little tobacco. we then made a final arrangement respecting the voyagers, who were to accompany the party; and, fortunately, there was no difficulty in doing this, as dr. richardson and mr. hood had taken the very judicious precaution of bringing up ten men from cumberland, who were engaged to proceed forward if their services were required. the canadians, whom they brought, were most desirous of being continued, and we felt sincere pleasure in being able to keep men who were so zealous in the cause, and who had given proofs of their activity on their recent passage to this place, by discharging those men who were less willing to undertake the journey; of these, three were englishmen, one american, and three canadians. when the numbers were completed, which we had been recommended by the traders to take as a protection against the esquimaux, we had sixteen canadian-voyagers, and our worthy and only english attendant john hepburn, besides the two interpreters whom we were to receive at the great slave lake; we were also accompanied by a chipewyan woman. an equipment of goods was given to each of the men who had been engaged at this place, similar to what had been furnished to the others at cumberland; and when this distribution had been made, the remainder were made up into bales, preparatory to our departure, on the following day. we were cheerfully assisted in these and all our occupations by mr. smith, who evinced an anxious desire to supply our wants as far as his means permitted. mr. hood having brought up the dipping needle from cumberland house, we ascertained the dip to be 85° 23' 42", and the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 6° 2' 10". the intensity of the magnetic force was also observed. several observations had been procured on both sides of the moon during our residence at fort chipewyan, the result of which gave for its longitude 111° 18' 20" w., its latitude was observed to be 58° 42' 38" n., and the variation of the compass 22° 49' 32" e. fresh rates were procured for the chronometers and their errors determined for greenwich time, by which the survey to the northward was carried on. chapter vi. mr. hood's journey to the basquiau hill--sojourns with an indian party--his journey to chipewyan. 1820. march. being desirous of obtaining a drawing of a moose-deer, and also of making some observation on the height of the aurora, i set out on the 23d, to pass a few days at the basquiau hill. two men accompanied me, with dogs and sledges, who were going to the hill for meat. we found the saskatchawan open and were obliged to follow it several miles to the eastward. we did not, then, cross it without wading in water, which had overflowed the ice; and our snow-shoes were encumbered with a heavy weight for the remainder of the day. on the south bank of the saskatchawan were some poplars ten or twelve feet in circumference at the root. beyond the river, we traversed an extensive swamp, bounded by woods. in the evening we crossed the swan lake, about six miles in breadth, and eight in length, and halted on its south side for the night, twenty-four miles s.s.w. of cumberland house. at four in the morning of the 24th we continued the journey, and crossed some creeks in the woods, and another large swamp. these swamps are covered with water in summer, to the depth of several feet, which arises from the melted snow from the higher grounds. the tracks of foxes, wolves, wolverenes, and martens, were very numerous. the people employed in carrying meat, set traps on their way out, and take possession of their captures at their return, for which they receive a sum from the company, proportioned to the value of the fur. in the evening we crossed the goose lake, which is a little longer than swan lake, and afterwards the river sepanach, a branch of the saskatchawan, forming an island extending thirty miles above, and forty below cumberland house. we turned to the westward on the root river, which enters the sepanach, and halted on its banks having made in direct distance not more than twenty miles since the 23rd. we passed the shoal lake on the 25th, and then marched twelve miles through woods and swamps to a hunting tent of the indians. it was situated in a grove of large poplars, and would have been no unpleasant residence if we could have avoided the smoke. a heavy gale from the westward, with snow, confined us for several days to this tent. on the 30th two indians arrived, one of whom named the warrior, was well known at the house. we endeavoured to prevail upon them to set out in quest of moose, which they agreed to do on receiving some rum. promises were of no avail; the smallest present gratification is preferred to the certainty of ample reward at another period; an unfailing indication of strong animal passions, and a weak understanding. on our compliance with their demand they departed. the next day, i went to the warrior's tent, distant about eleven miles. the country was materially changed: the pine had disappeared, and gentle slopes, with clumps of large poplars, formed some pleasing groups: willows were scattered over the swamps. when i entered the tent, the indians spread a buffalo robe before the fire, and desired me to sit down. some were eating, others sleeping, many of them without any covering except the breech cloth and a blanket over the shoulders; a state in which they love to indulge themselves till hunger drives them forth to the chase. besides the warrior's family, there was that of another hunter named _long-legs_, whose bad success in hunting had reduced him to the necessity of feeding on moose leather for three weeks when he was compassionately relieved by the warrior. i was an unwilling witness of the preparation of my dinner by the indian women. they cut into pieces a portion of fat meat, using for that purpose a knife and their teeth. it was boiled in a kettle, and served in a platter made of birch bark, from which, being dirty, they had peeled the surface. however, the flavour of good moose meat will survive any process that it undergoes in their hands, except smoking. having provided myself with some drawing materials, i amused the indians with a sketch of the interior of the tent and its inhabitants. an old woman, who was relating with great volubility an account of some quarrel with the traders at cumberland house, broke off from her narration when she perceived my design; supposing, perhaps, that i was employing some charm against her; for the indians have been taught a supernatural dread of particular pictures. one of the young men drew, with a piece of charcoal, a figure resembling a frog, on the side of the tent, and by significantly pointing at me, excited peals of merriment from his companions. the caricature was comic; but i soon fixed their attention, by producing my pocket compass, and affecting it with a knife. they have great curiosity, which might easily be directed to the attainment of useful knowledge. as the dirt accumulated about these people was visibly of a communicative nature, i removed at night into the open air, where the thermometer fell to 15° below zero, although it was the next day 60° above it. in the morning the warrior and his companion arrived; i found that, instead of hunting, they had passed the whole time in a drunken fit, at a short distance from the tent. in reply to our angry questions, the warrior held out an empty vessel, as if to demand the payment of a debt, before he entered into any new negotiation. not being inclined to starve his family, we set out for another indian tent, ten miles to the southward, but we found only the frame, or tent poles, standing, when we reached the spot. the men, by digging where the fire-place had been, ascertained that the indians had quitted it the day before; and as their marches are short, when encumbered with the women and baggage, we sought out their track, and followed it. at an abrupt angle of it, which was obscured by trees, the men suddenly disappeared; and hastening forward to discover the cause, i perceived them both still rolling at the foot of a steep cliff, over which they had been dragged while endeavouring to stop the descent of their sledges. the dogs were gazing silently, with the wreck of their harness about them, and the sledges deeply buried in the snow. the effects of this accident did not detain us long, and we proceeded afterwards with greater caution. the air was warm at noon, and the solitary but sweet notes of the jay, the earliest spring bird, were in every wood. late in the evening we descried the ravens wheeling in circles round a small grove of poplars, and, according to our expectations, found the indians encamped there. the men were absent hunting, and returned unsuccessful. they had been several days without provisions, and thinking that i could depend upon the continuance of their exertions, i gave them a little rum; the next day they set out, and at midnight they swept by us with their dogs in close pursuit. in the morning we found that a moose had eaten the bark of a tree near our fire. the hunters, however, again failed; and they attributed the extreme difficulty of approaching the chase, to the calmness of the weather, which enabled it to hear them at a great distance. they concluded, as usual, when labouring under any affliction, that they were tormented by the evil spirit; and assembled to beat a large tambourine, and sing an address to the manito, or deity, praying for relief, according to the explanation which i received; but their prayer consisted of only three words, constantly repeated. one of the hunters yet remained abroad; and as the wind rose at noon, we had hopes that he was successful. in the evening he made his appearance, and announcing that he had killed a large moose, immediately secured the reward which had been promised. the tidings were received with apparent indifference, by people whose lives are alternate changes from the extremity of want to abundance. but as their countenances seldom betray their emotions, it cannot be determined whether their apathy is real or affected. however, the women prepared their sledges and dogs, with the design of dismembering, and bringing home, the carcass: a proceeding to which, in their necessitous condition, i could have had neither reasonable nor available objections, without giving them a substitute. by much solicitation i obtained an audience, and offered them our own provisions, on condition of their suspending the work of destruction till the next day. they agreed to the proposition, and we set out with some indians for the place where the animal was lying. the night advancing, we were separated by a snow-storm, and not being skilful enough to follow tracks which were so speedily filled up, i was bewildered for several hours in the woods, when i met with an indian, who led me back at such a pace that i was always in the rear, to his infinite diversion. the indians are vain of their local knowledge, which is certainly very wonderful. our companions had taken out the entrails and young of the moose, which they buried in the snow. the indians then returned to the tents, and one of my men accompanied them; he was the person charged with the management of the trade at the hunting tent; and he observed, that the opportunity of making a bargain with the indians, while they were drinking, was too advantageous to be lost. it remained for us to prevent the wolves from mangling the moose; for which purpose we wrapped ourselves in blankets between its feet, and placed the hatchets within our reach. the night was stormy, and apprehension kept me long awake; but finding my companion in so deep a sleep, that nothing could have roused him, except the actual gripe of a wolf, i thought it advisable to imitate his example, as much as was in my power, rather than bear the burthen of anxiety alone. at day-light we shook off the snow, which was heaped upon us, and endeavoured to kindle a fire; but the violence of the storm defeated all our attempts. at length two indians arrived, with whose assistance we succeeded, and they took possession of it, to show their sense of our obligations to them. we were ashamed of the scene before us; the entrails of the moose and its young, which had been buried at our feet, bore testimony to the nocturnal revel of the wolves, during the time we had slept. this was a fresh subject of derision for the indians, whose appetites, however, would not suffer them to waste long upon us a time so precious. they soon finished what the wolves had begun, and with as little aid from the art of cookery, eating both the young moose, and the contents of the paunch, raw. i had scarcely secured myself by a lodge of branches from the snow, and placed the moose in a position for my sketch, when we were stormed by a troop of women and children, with their sledges and dogs. we obtained another short respite from the indians, but our blows could not drive, nor their caresses entice, the hungry dogs from the tempting feast before them. i had not finished my sketch, before the impatient crowd tore the moose to pieces, and loaded their sledges with meat. on our way to the tent, a black wolf rushed out upon an indian, who happened to pass near its den. it was shot; and the indians carried away three black whelps, to improve the breed of their dogs. i purchased one of them, intending to send it to england, but it perished for want of proper nourishment. the latitude of these tents, was 53° 12' 46" n., and longitude by chronometers 103° 13' 10" w. on the 5th of april we set out for the hunting tent by our former track, and arrived there in the evening. as the increasing warmth of the weather had threatened to interrupt communication by removing the ice, orders had been sent from cumberland house to the people at the tent, to quit it without delay; which we did on the 7th. some altitudes of the aurora were obtained. we had a fine view, at sunrise, of the basquiau hill, skirting half the horizon with its white sides, chequered by forests of pine. it is seen from pine island lake, at the distance of fifty miles; and cannot, therefore, be less than three-fourths of a mile in perpendicular height; probably the greatest elevation between the atlantic ocean, and the rocky mountains. a small stream runs near the hunting tent, strongly impregnated with salt. there are several salt springs about it, which are not frozen during the winter.{45} the surface of the snow, thawing in the sun, and freezing at night, had become a strong crust, which sometimes gave way in a circle round our feet, immersing us in the soft snow beneath. the people were afflicted with snow blindness; a kind of ophthalmia occasioned by the reflection of the sun's rays in the spring. the miseries endured during the first journey of this nature, are so great, that nothing could induce the sufferer to undertake a second, while under the influence of present pain. he feels his frame crushed by unaccountable pressure, he drags a galling and stubborn weight at his feet, and his track is marked with blood. the dazzling scene around him affords no rest to his eye, no object to divert his attention from his own agonizing sensations. when he arises from sleep, half his body seems dead, till quickened into feeling by the irritation of his sores. but fortunately for him, no evil makes an impression so evanescent as pain. it cannot be wholly banished, nor recalled with the force of reality, by any act of the mind, either to affect our determinations, or to sympathize with another. the traveller soon forgets his sufferings, and at every future journey their recurrence is attended with diminished acuteness. it was not before the 10th or 12th of april, that the return of the swans, geese, and ducks, gave certain indications of the advance of spring. the juice of the maple-tree began to flow, and the women repaired to the woods for the purpose of collecting it. this tree which abounds to the southward, is not, i believe found to the northward of the saskatchawan. the indians obtain the sap by making incisions into the tree. they boil it down, and evaporate the water, skimming off the impurities. they are so fond of sweets that after this simple process, they set an extravagant price upon it. on the 15th fell the first shower of rain we had seen for six months, and on the 17th the thermometer rose to 77° in the shade. the whole face of the country was deluged by the melted snow. all the nameless heaps of dirt, accumulated in the winter, now floated over the very thresholds, and the long-imprisoned scents dilated into vapours so penetrating, that no retreat was any security from them. the flood descended into the cellar below our house, and destroyed a quantity of powder and tea; a loss irreparable in our situation. the noise made by the frogs which this inundation produced, is almost incredible. there is strong reason to believe that they outlive the severity of winter. they have often been found frozen and revived by warmth, nor is it possible that the multitude which incessantly filled our ears with its discordant notes could have been matured in two or three days. the fishermen at beaver lake, and the other detached parties were ordered to return to the post. the expedients to which the poor people were reduced, to cross a country so beset with waters, presented many uncouth spectacles. the inexperienced were glad to compromise, with the loss of property, for the safety of their persons, and astride upon ill-balanced rafts with which they struggled to be uppermost, exhibited a ludicrous picture of distress. happy were they who could patch up an old canoe, though obliged to bear it half the way on their shoulders, through miry bogs and interwoven willows. but the veteran trader, wedged in a box of skin, with his wife, children, dogs, and furs, wheeled triumphantly through the current, and deposited his heterogeneous cargo safely on the shore. the woods re-echoed with the return of their exiled tenants. an hundred tribes, as gaily dressed as any burnished natives of the south, greeted our eyes in our accustomed walks, and their voices, though unmusical, were the sweetest that ever saluted our ears. from the 19th to the 26th the snow once more blighted the resuscitating verdure, but a single day was sufficient to remove it. on the 28th the saskatchawan swept away the ice which had adhered to its banks, and on the morrow a boat came down from carlton house with provisions. we received such accounts of the state of vegetation at that place, that dr. richardson determined to visit it, in order to collect botanical specimens, as the period at which the ice was expected to admit of the continuation of our journey was still distant. accordingly he embarked on the 1st of may. in the course of the month the ice gradually wore away from the south side of the lake, but the great mass of it still hung to the north side with some snow visible on its surface. by the 21st the elevated grounds were perfectly dry, and teeming with the fragrant offspring of the season. when the snow melted, the earth was covered with the fallen leaves of the last year, and already it was green with the strawberry plant, and the bursting buds of the gooseberry, raspberry, and rose bushes, soon variegated by the rose and the blossoms of the choke cherry. the gifts of nature are disregarded and undervalued till they are withdrawn, and in the hideous regions of the arctic zone, she would make a convert of him for whom the gardens of europe had no charms, or the mild beauties of a southern climate had bloomed in vain. mr. williams found a delightful occupation in his agricultural pursuits. the horses were brought to the plough, and fields of wheat, barley, and indian corn, promised to reward his labours. his dairy furnished us with all the luxuries of an english farm. on the 25th the ice departed from pine island lake. we were, however, informed that beaver lake, which was likewise in our route, would not afford a passage before the 4th of june. according to directions left by mr. franklin, applications were made to the chiefs of the hudson's bay and north-west companies' posts, for two canoes, with their crews, and a supply of stores, for the use of the expedition. they were not in a condition to comply with this request till the arrival of their respective returns from isle à la crosse and the saskatchawan departments. of the six men whom we brought from england, the most serviceable, john hepburn, had accompanied mr. franklin, and only one other desired to prosecute the journey with us. mr. franklin had made arrangements with mr. williams for the employment of the remaining five men in bringing to cumberland house the ammunition, tobacco, &c., left at york fort, which stores were, if possible, to be sent after us in the summer. on the 30th dr. richardson returned from carlton house, and on the 31st the boats arrived belonging to the hudson's bay company's saskatchawan department. we obtained a canoe and two more volunteers. on the 1st of june the saskatchawan, swelled by the melting of the snow near the rocky mountains, rose twelve feet, and the current of the little rivers bounding pine island ran back into the lake, which it filled with mud. on the 5th the north-west company's people arrived, and mr. conolly{46} furnished us with a canoe and five canadians. they were engaged to attend us till mr. franklin should think fit to discharge them, and bound under the usual penalties in case of disobedience, or other improper conduct. these poor people entertained such dread of a ship of war, that they stipulated not to be embarked in lieutenant parry's vessels, if we should find them on the coast; a condition with which they would gladly have dispensed had that desirable event taken place. as we required a canadian foreman and steersman for the other canoe, we were compelled to wait for the appearance of the isle à la crosse canoes under mr. clark. on the 8th mr. williams embarked for york fort. he gave us a circular letter addressed to the chiefs of the hudson's bay company's posts, directing them to afford us all possible assistance on our route, and he promised to exert every endeavour to forward the esquimaux interpreter, upon whom the success of our journey so much depended. he was accompanied by eight boats. with him we sent our collections of plants, minerals, charts, and drawings, to be transmitted to england by the hudson's bay ships. after this period, our detention, though short, cost us more vexation than the whole time we had passed at cumberland house, because every hour of the short summer was invaluable to us. on the 11th mr. clark arrived, and completed our crews.--he brought letters from mr. franklin, dated march 28th, at fort chipewyan, where he was engaged procuring hunters and interpreters. a heavy storm of wind and rain from the north-east again delayed us till the morning of the 13th. the account we had received at york factory of the numerous stores at cumberland house proved to be very erroneous. the most material stores we received did not amount, in addition to our own, to more than two barrels of powder, a keg of spirits, and two pieces of tobacco, with pemmican for sixteen days. the crew of dr. richardson's canoe consisted of three englishmen and three canadians, and the other carried five canadians; both were deeply laden and the waves ran high on the lake. no person in our party being well acquainted with the rivers to the northward, mr. conolly{47} gave us a pilot, on condition that we should exchange him when we met with the athabasca brigade of canoes. at four a.m. we embarked. we soon found that birchen-bark canoes were not calculated to brave rough weather on a large lake, for we were compelled to land on the opposite border, to free them from the water which had already saturated their cargoes. the wind became more moderate, and we were enabled, after traversing a chain of smaller lakes, to enter the mouth of the sturgeon river, at sunset, where we encamped. the lading of the canoes is always, if possible carried on shore at night, and the canoes taken out of the water. the following evening we reached beaver lake, and landed to repair some damages sustained by the canoes. a round stone will displace the lading of a canoe, without doing any injury, but a slight blow against a sharp corner penetrates the bark. for the purpose of repairing it, a small quantity of gum or pitch, bark and pine roots, are embarked, and the business is so expeditiously performed, that the speed of the canoe amply compensates for every delay. the sturgeon river is justly called by the canadians la rivière{48} maligne, from its numerous and dangerous rapids. against the strength of a rapid it is impossible to effect any progress by paddling, and the canoes are tracked, or if the bank will not admit of it, propelled with poles, in the management of which the canadians shew great dexterity. their simultaneous motions were strongly contrasted with the awkward confusion of the inexperienced englishmen, deafened by the torrent, who sustained the blame of every accident which occurred. at sunset we encamped on an island in beaver lake, and at four a.m., the next morning, passed the first portage in the ridge river. beaver lake is twelve miles in length, and six in breadth. the flat limestone country rises into bold rocks on its banks, and at the mouth of the ridge river, the limestone discontinues. the lake is very deep, and has already been noticed for the number and excellence of its fish.{49} the ridge river is rapid and shallow. we had emerged from the muddy channels through an alluvial soil, and the primitive rocks interrupted our way with frequent portages, through the whole route to isle à la crosse lake. at two p.m. we passed the mouth of the hay river, running from the westward; and the ridge above its confluence takes the name of the great river, which rises at the height of land called the frog portage. the thermometer was this day 100° in the sun, and the heat was extremely oppressive, from our constant exposure to it. we crossed three portages in the great river, and encamped at the last; here we met the director of the north-west company's affairs in the north, mr. stuart, on his way to fort william, in a light canoe. he had left the athabasca lake only thirteen days, and brought letters from mr. franklin, who desired that we would endeavour to collect stores of every kind at isle à la crosse, and added a favourable account of the country, to the northward of the slave lake. on the 16th, at three a.m., we continued our course, the river increasing to the breadth of half a mile, with many rapids between the rocky islands. the banks were luxuriantly clothed with pines, poplars, and birch trees, of the largest size: but the different shades of green were undistinguishable at a distance, and the glow of autumnal colours was wanting to render the variety beautiful. having crossed two portages at the different extremities of the island lake, we ran under sail through two extensive sheets of water, called the heron and pelican lakes; the former of which is fifteen miles in length, and the latter five; but its extent to the southward has not been explored. an intricate channel, with four small portages, conducted us to the woody lake. its borders were, indeed, walls of pines, hiding the face of steep and high rocks; and we wandered in search of a landing-place till ten p.m., when we were forced to take shelter from an impending storm, on a small island where we wedged ourselves between the trees. but though we secured the canoes, we incurred a personal evil of much greater magnitude, in the torments inflicted by the musquitoes, a plague which had grown upon us since our departure from cumberland house, and which infested us during the whole summer; we found no relief from their attacks by exposing ourselves to the utmost violence of the wind and rain. our last resource was to plunge ourselves in the water, and from this uncomfortable situation we gladly escaped at day-light, and hoisted our sails. the woody lake is thirteen miles in length, and a small grassy channel at its north-western extremity, leads to the frog portage, the source of the waters descending by beaver lake to the saskatchawan. the distance to the missinippi, or churchill river, is only three hundred and eighty yards; and as its course crosses the height nearly at right angles to the direction of the great river, it would be superfluous to compute the elevation at this place. the portage is in latitude 55° 26' 0" n., and longitude 103° 34' 50" w. its name, according to sir alexander mackenzie, is derived from the crees having left suspended a stretched frog's skin, in derision of the northern indian mode of dressing the beaver. the part of the missinippi, in which we embarked, we should have mistaken for a lake, had it not been for the rapidity of the current against which we made our way. at four p.m. we passed a long portage occasioned by a ledge of rocks, three hundred yards in length, over which the river falls seven or eight feet. after crossing another portage we encamped. on the 18th we had rain, wind, and thunder, the whole day; but this weather was much preferable to the heat we had borne hitherto. we passed three portages, and, at six p.m., encamped on the north bank. below the third portage is the mouth of the rapid river, flowing from a large lake to the southward, on which a post was formerly maintained by the north-west company. next morning we found ourselves involved in a confused mass of islands, through the openings of which we could not discern the shore. the guide's knowledge of the river did not extend beyond the last portage, and our perplexity continued, till we observed some foam floating on the water, and took the direction from which it came. the noise of a heavy fall, at the mountain portage, reached our ears, at the distance of four miles, and we arrived there at eight a.m. the portage was a difficult ascent over a rocky island, between which and the main shore were two cataracts and a third in sight above them, making another portage. we surprised a large brown bear which immediately retreated into the woods. to the northward of the second portage we again found the channels intricate, but the shores being sometimes visible, we ventured to proceed. the character of the country was new and more interesting than before. the mountainous and strong elevations receded from the banks, and the woods crept through their openings to the valleys behind; the adventurous pine alone ascending their bases, and braving storms unfelt below. at noon we landed at the otter portage, where the river ran with great velocity for half a mile, among large stones. having carried across the principal part of the cargo, the people attempted to track the canoes along the edge of the rapid. with the first they succeeded, but the other, in which were the foreman and steersman, was overset and swept away by the current. an account of this misfortune was speedily conveyed to the upper end of the portage, and the men launched the remaining canoe into the rapid, though wholly unacquainted with the dangers of it. the descent was quickly accomplished, and they perceived the bottom of the lost canoe above water in a little bay, whither it had been whirled by the eddy. one man had reached the bank, but no traces could be found of the foreman, louis saint jean. we saved the canoe, out of which two guns and a case of preserved meats had been thrown into the rapid[17]. so early a disaster deeply affected the spirits of the canadians, and their natural vivacity gave way to melancholy forebodings, while they erected a wooden cross in the rocks near the spot where their companion perished. [17] mr. hood himself was the first to leap into the canoe and incite the men to follow him, and shoot the rapid to save the lives of their companions.--dr. richardson's _journal_. the loss of this man's services, and the necessity of procuring a guide, determined us to wait for the arrival of the north-west company's people from fort chipewyan, and we encamped accordingly. the canoe was much shattered, but as the gunwales were not broken, we easily repaired it. in the evening a n.w. canoe arrived, with two of the partners. they gave us an account of mr. franklin's proceedings and referred us to the brigade following them for a guide. during the 20th it rained heavily, and we passed the day in anxious suspense confined to our tents. a black bear came to the bank on the opposite side of the river, and on seeing us glided behind the trees. late on the 21st, mr. robertson, of the hudson's bay company arrived, and furnished us with a guide, but desired that he might be exchanged when we met the northern canoes. we took advantage of the remainder of the day, to cross the next portage, which was three-fourths of a mile in length. on the 22nd we crossed three small portages, and encamped at the fourth. at one of them we passed some of the hudson's bay company's canoes, and our application to them was unsuccessful. we began to suspect that isle à la crosse was the nearest place at which we might hope for assistance. however, on the morning of the 23rd, as we were about to embark, we encountered the last brigades of canoes belonging to both the companies, and obtained a guide and foreman from them. thus completely equipped, we entered the black bear island lake, the navigation of which requires a very experienced pilot. its length is twenty-two miles, and its breadth varies from three to five, yet it is so choked with islands, that no channel is to be found through it, exceeding a mile in breadth. at sunset we landed, and encamped on an island, and at six a.m. on the 24th, left the lake and crossed three portages into another, which has, probably, several communications with the last, as that by which we passed is too narrow to convey the whole body of the missinippi. at one of these portages called the pin portage is a rapid, about ten yards in length, with a descent of ten or twelve feet, and beset with rocks. light canoes sometimes venture down this fatal gulf, to avoid the portage, unappalled by the warning crosses which overhang the brink, the mournful records of former failures. the hudson's bay company's people whom we passed on the 23rd, going to the rock house with their furs, were badly provided with food, of which we saw distressing proofs at every portage behind them. they had stripped the birch trees of their rind to procure the soft pulpy vessels in contact with the wood, which are sweet, but very insufficient to satisfy a craving appetite. the lake to the westward of the pin portage, is called sandfly lake; it is seven miles long; and a wide channel connects it with the serpent lake, the extent of which to the southward we could not discern. there is nothing remarkable in this chain of lakes, except their shapes, being rocky basins filled by the waters of the missinippi, insulating the massy eminences, and meandering with almost imperceptible current between them. from the serpent to the sandy lake, it is again confined in a narrow space by the approach of its winding banks, and on the 26th we were some hours employed in traversing a series of shallow rapids, where it was necessary to lighten the canoes. having missed the path through the woods, we walked two miles in the water upon sharp stones, from which some of us were incessantly slipping into deep holes, and floundering in vain for footing at the bottom; a scene highly diverting, notwithstanding our fatigue. we were detained in sandy lake, till one p.m., by a strong gale, when the wind becoming moderate we crossed five miles to the mouth of the river, and at four p.m. left the main branch of it, and entered a little rivulet called the grassy river, running through an extensive reedy swamp. it is the nest of innumerable ducks, which rear their young, among the long rushes, in security from beasts of prey. at sunset we encamped on the banks of the main branch. at three a.m. june 28th, we embarked in a thick fog occasioned by a fall of the temperature of the air ten degrees below that of the water. having crossed knee lake, which is nine miles in length, and a portage at its western extremity, we entered primeau lake, with a strong and favourable wind, by the aid of which we ran nineteen miles through it, and encamped at the river's mouth. it is shaped like the barb of an arrow, with the point towards the north, and its greatest breadth is about four miles. during the night, a torrent of rain washed us from our beds, accompanied with the loudest thunder i ever heard. this weather continued during the 29th, and often compelled us to land, and turn the canoes up, to prevent them from filling. we passed one portage, and the confluence of a river, said to afford, by other rivers beyond a height of land, a shorter but more difficult route to the athabasca lake than that which is generally pursued. on the 28th we crossed the last portage, and at ten a.m. entered the isle à la crosse lake. its long succession of woody points, both banks stretching towards the south, till their forms were lost in the haze of the horizon, was a grateful prospect to us, after our bewildered and interrupted voyage in the missinippi. the gale wafted us with unusual speed, and as the lake increased in breadth, the waves swelled to a dangerous height. a canoe running before the wind is very liable to burst asunder, when on the top of a wave, so that part of the bottom is out of the water; for there is nothing to support the weight of its heavy cargo but the bark, and the slight gunwales attached to it. on making known our exigencies to the gentlemen in charge of the hudson's bay and north-west companies' forts, they made up an assortment of stores, amounting to five bales; for four of which we were indebted to mr. mac leod of the north west company, who shared with us the ammunition absolutely required for the support of his post; receiving in exchange an order for the same quantity upon the cargo which we expected to follow us from york factory. we had heard from mr. stuart that fort chipewyan was too much impoverished to supply the wants of the expedition, and we found isle à la crosse in the same condition; which, indeed, we might have foreseen, from the exhausted state of cumberland house, but could not have provided against. we never had heard before our departure from york, that the posts in the interior only received annually the stores necessary for the consumption of a single year. it was fortunate for us that mr. franklin had desired ten bags of pemmican to be sent from the saskatchawan across the plains to isle à la crosse for our use. this resource was untouched, but we could not embark more than five pieces in our own canoes. however, mr. mac leod agreed to send a canoe after us to the methye portage, with the pemmican, and we calculated that the diminution of our provision would there enable us to receive it. the beaver river enters this lake on the s.e. side, and another river which has not been named, on the s.w. both these rivers are branches of the missinippi, as it is the only outlet from the lake. the banks appeared to be rocky, and the beach in many places sandy, but its waters are yellow and muddy. it produces a variety of fish, among which its white-fish are esteemed the best in the country. the only birds visible at this season, are common to every part of the missinippi; gulls, ducks, pigeons, goatsuckers, and the raven; and geese and swans pay a momentary visit in passing to the north and returning. there was little in the forts differing from the establishments that we had before seen. the ground on which they are erected is sandy, and favourable to cultivation. curiosity, however, was satisfied by the first experiment, and utility alone has been unable to extend it. isle à la crosse is frequented by the crees and the chipewyans. it is not the dread of the indians, but of one another, that has brought the rival companies so close together at every trading post; each party seeking to prevent the other from engaging the affections of the natives, and monopolizing the trade. whenever a settlement is made by the one, the other immediately follows, without considering the eligibility of the place; for it may injure its opponent, though it cannot benefit itself, and that advantage which is the first object of all other commercial bodies, becomes but the second with the fur traders. on the evening of the 30th we embarked, and entered a wide channel to the northward of the forts, and extending towards the north-west. it gradually decreased in breadth till it became a river, which is the third fork of the missinippi, and its current being almost insensible, we entered the clear lake at ten a.m. on the 1st of july. of this lake, which is very large, no part is known except the south border, but its extent would lead us to conclude, that its evaporation must be supplied by another river to the northward, especially as the small channel that communicates with buffalo lake is motionless. the existence of such a river is asserted by the indians, and a shorter passage might be found by it across the height of land to clear water river, than the portage from the methye lake. in buffalo lake, the wind was too strong for us to proceed, and we therefore encamped upon a gravel beach thrown up by the waves. we embarked at three a.m. july 2d, and at four p.m. entered the mouth of the methye river. the lake is thirty-four miles in length, and fourteen in breadth. it is probably very deep, for we saw no islands on this wide expanse, except at the borders. on the south-west side were two forts, belonging to the companies, and near them a solitary hill seven or eight hundred feet high. at eight p.m. we encamped in the methye river, at the confluence of the river pembina. a route has been explored by it to the red willow river, across the height of land, but the difficulties of it were so great, that the ordinary route is preferred. on the 3d we passed through the methye river, and encamped on the borders of the methye lake. the soil from isle à la crosse to this place is sandy, with some portion of clay, and the trees numerous; but the methye river is stony, and so shallow, that to lighten the canoes, we made two portages of five and two miles. the paths were overflowed with cold spring water, and barricadoed by fallen trees; we should have been contented to immerse ourselves wholly had the puddle been sufficiently deep, for the musquitoes devoured every part that was exposed to them. on the 4th we crossed the methye lake, and landed at the portage on the north-west side, in one of the sources of the missinippi. the lake is seventeen miles in length, with a large island in the middle. we proceeded to the north side of the portage with two men, carrying a tent and some instruments, leaving the canoes and cargoes to be transported by daily journeys of two or three miles. the distance is fourteen statute miles, and there are two small lakes about five miles from the north side. several species of fish were found in them, though they have no known communication with any other body of water, being situated on the elevation of the height. the road was a gentle ascent, miry from the late rainy weather, and shaded by pines, poplars, birches, and cypresses, which terminated our view. on the north side we discovered through an opening in the trees, that we were on a hill eight or nine hundred feet high, and at the edge of a steep descent. we were prepared to expect an extensive prospect, but the magnificent scene before us was so superior to what the nature of the country had promised, that it banished even our sense of suffering from the musquitoes, which hovered in clouds about our heads. two parallel chains of hills extended towards the setting sun, their various projecting outlines exhibiting the several gradations of distance, and the opposite bases closing at the horizon. on the nearest eminence, the objects were clearly defined by their dark shadows; the yellow rays blended their softening hues with brilliant green on the next, and beyond it all distinction melted into gray and purple. in the long valley between, the smooth and colourless clear water river wound its spiral course, broken and shattered by encroaching woods. an exuberance of rich herbage covered the soil, and lofty trees climbed the precipice at our feet, hiding its brink with their summits. impatient as we were, and blinded with pain, we paid a tribute of admiration, which this beautiful landscape is capable of exciting, unaided by the borrowed charms of a calm atmosphere, glowing with the vivid tints of evening. we descended to the banks of the clear water river, and having encamped, the two men returned to assist their companions. we had sometimes before procured a little rest, by closing the tent, and burning wood, or flashing gunpowder within, the smoke driving the musquitoes into the crannies of the ground. but this remedy was now ineffectual, though we employed it so perseveringly, as to hazard suffocation: they swarmed under our blankets, goring us with their envenomed trunks, and steeping our clothes in blood. we rose at daylight in a fever, and our misery was unmitigated during our whole stay. the musquitoes of america resemble, in shape, those of africa and europe, but differ essentially in size and other particulars. there are two distinct species, the largest of which is brown, and the smallest black. where they are bred cannot easily be determined, for they are numerous in every soil. they make their first appearance in may, and the cold destroys them in september; in july they are most voracious; and fortunately for the traders, the journeys from the trading posts to the factories are generally concluded at that period. the food of the musquito is blood, which it can extract by penetrating the hide of a buffalo; and if it is not disturbed, it gorges itself so as to swell its body into a transparent globe. the wound does not swell, like that of the african musquito, but it is infinitely more painful; and when multiplied an hundred fold, and continued for so many successive days, it becomes an evil of such magnitude, that cold, famine, and every other concomitant of an inhospitable climate, must yield the pre-eminence to it. it chases the buffalo to the plains, irritating him to madness; and the rein-deer to the sea-shore, from which they do not return till the scourge has ceased. on the 6th the thermometer was 106° in the sun, and on the 7th 110°. the musquitoes sought the shade in the heat of the day. it was some satisfaction to us to see the havoc made among them by a large and beautiful species of dragon-fly, called the musquito hawk, which wheeled through their retreats, swallowing its prey without a momentary diminution of its speed. but the temporary relief that we had hoped for was only an exchange of tormentors: our new assailant, the horse-fly, or bull-dog, ranged in the hottest glare of the sun, and carried off a portion of flesh at each attack. another noxious insect, the smallest, but not the least formidable, was the sand-fly known in canada by the name of the _brulot_. to such annoyance all travellers must submit, and it would be unworthy to complain of that grievance in the pursuit of knowledge, which is endured for the sake of profit. this detail of it has only been as an excuse for the scantiness of our observations on the most interesting part of the country through which we passed. the north side of the methye portage is in latitude 56° 41' 40" n. and longitude 109° 52' 0" w. it is, by our course, one hundred and twenty-four miles from isle à la crosse, and considered as a branch of the missinippi, five hundred and ninety-two miles from the frog portage. the clear water river passing through the valley, described above, evidently rises not far to the eastward. the height, computed by the same mode as that of the echiamamis{50}, by allowing a foot for each mile of distance, and six feet on an average, for each fall and rapid, is two thousand four hundred and sixty-seven feet above the level of the sea, admitting it to be nine hundred feet above the clear water river. the country, in a line between it and the mouth of mackenzie's river, is a continual descent, although to the eastward of that line, there may be several heights between it and the arctic sea. to the eastward, the lands descend to hudson's bay; and to the westward also, till the athabasca river cuts through it, from whence it ascends to the rocky mountains. daring was the spirit of enterprise that first led commerce, with her cumbrous train, from the waters of hudson's bay to those of the arctic sea, across an obstacle to navigation so stupendous as this; and persevering has been the industry which drew riches from a source so remote. on the 8th two men arrived, and informed us, that they had brought us our ten bags of pemmican, from isle à la crosse, but that they were found to be rotten. thus were we unexpectedly deprived of the most essential of our stores, for we knew fort chipewyan to be destitute of provisions, and that mr. franklin depended upon us for a supply, whereas, enough did not remain for our own use. on the 9th, the canoes and cargoes reached the north side of the portage. our people had selected two bags of pemmican less mouldy than the rest, which they left on the beach. its decay was caused by some defect in the mode of mixing it. on the 10th, we embarked in the clear water river, and proceeded down the current. the hills, the banks, and bed of the river, were composed of fine yellow sand, with some limestone rocks. the surface soil was alluvial. at eight a.m. we passed a portage on which the limestone rocks were singularly scattered through the woods, bearing the appearance of houses and turrets overgrown with moss. the earth emitted a hollow sound, and the river was divided by rocks, into narrow crooked channels, every object indicating that some convulsion had disturbed the general order of nature at this place. we had passed a portage above it, and after two long portages below it we encamped. near the last was a small stream so strongly impregnated with sulphur, as to taint the air to a great distance around it. we saw two brown bears on the hills in the course of the day. at daylight, on the 11th, we embarked. the hills continued on both sides to the mouth of the river, varying from eight hundred to one thousand feet in height. they declined to the banks in long green slopes, diversified by woody mounds and copses. the pines were not here in thick impenetrable masses, but perched aloft in single groups on the heights, or shrouded by the livelier hues of the poplar and willow. we passed the mouth of the red willow river on the south bank, flowing through a deep ravine. it is the continuation of the route by the pembina, before mentioned. at noon we entered the majestic athabasca or elk river. its junction with the clear water river is called the forks. its banks were in accessible cliffs, apparently of clay and stones, about two hundred feet high, and its windings in the south were encircled by high mountains. its breadth exceeded half a mile and was swelled to a mile in many places by long muddy islands in the middle covered with trees. no more portages interrupted our course, but a swift current hurried us towards the quarter in which our anticipated discoveries were to commence. the passing cliffs returned a loud confusion of echoes to the sprightly canoe song, and the dashing paddles; and the eagles, watching with half-closed eyes on the pine-tops, started from their airy rest, and prepared their drowsy pinions for the flight. about twenty miles from the forks are some salt pits and plains, said to be very extensive. the height of the banks was reduced to twenty or thirty feet, and the hills ranged themselves at an increased distance from the banks in the same variety as those of the clear water river. at sunset we encamped on a small sandy island, but the next morning made a speedy retreat to the canoes, the water having nearly overflown our encampment. we passed two deserted settlements of the fur traders on opposite banks, at a place called pierre au calumet. beyond it the hills disappeared, and the banks were no longer visible above the trees. the river carries away yearly large portions of soil, which increases its breadth, and diminishes its depth, rendering the water so muddy as to be scarcely drinkable. whole forests of timber are drifted down the stream, and choke up the channels between the islands at its mouth. we observed the traces of herds of buffaloes, where they had crossed the river, the trees being trodden down and strewed, as if by a whirlwind. at four p.m. we left the main branch of the athabasca, entering a small river, called the embarras. it is narrow and muddy, with pines of an enormous size on its banks. some of them are two hundred feet high, and three or four feet in diameter. at nine p.m. we landed and encamped; but finding ourselves in a nest of musquitoes, we continued our journey before day-break; and at eight a.m., emerged into the athabasca lake. a strong wind agitated this sea of fresh water, which, however, we crossed without any accident, and landed on the north side of it, at fort chipewyan; where we had the satisfaction of finding our companions in good health, and of experiencing that sympathy in our anxiety on the state of affairs, which was only to be expected from those who were to share our future fortunes. chapter vii. departure from chipewyan--difficulties of the various navigations of the rivers and lakes, and of the portages--slave lake and fort providence--scarcity of provisions, and discontent of the canadian voyagers--difficulties with regard to the indian guides--refusal to proceed--visit of observation to the upper part of copper-mine river--return to the winter-quarters of fort enterprise. 1820. july 18. early this morning the stores were distributed to the three canoes. our stock of provision unfortunately did not amount to more than sufficient for one day's consumption, exclusive of two barrels of flour, three cases of preserved meats, some chocolate, arrow-root, and portable soup, which we had brought from england, and intended to reserve for our journey to the coast the next season. seventy pounds of moose meat and a little barley were all that mr. smith was enabled to give us. it was gratifying, however, to perceive that this scarcity of food did not depress the spirits of our canadian companions, who cheerfully loaded their canoes, and embarked in high glee after they had received the customary dram. at noon we bade farewell to our kind friend mr. smith. the crews commenced a lively paddling song on quitting the shore, which was continued until we had lost sight of the houses. we soon reached the western boundary of the lake, and at two entered the stony river, one of the discharges of the athabasca lake into the slave river, and having a favouring current passed swiftly along. this narrow stream is confined between low swampy banks, which support willows, dwarf birch, and alder. at five we passed its conflux with the peace river. the slave river, formed by the union of these streams, is about three quarters of a mile wide. we descended this magnificent river, with much rapidity, and after passing through several narrow channels, formed by an assemblage of islands, crossed a spot where the waters had a violent whirling motion, which, when the river is low, is said to subside into a dangerous rapid; on the present occasion no other inconvenience was felt than the inability of steering the canoes, which were whirled about in every direction by the eddies, until the current carried them beyond their influence. we encamped at seven, on the swampy bank of the river, but had scarcely pitched the tents before we were visited by a terrible thunder-storm; the rain fell in torrents, and the violence of the wind caused the river to overflow its banks, so that we were completely flooded. swarms of musquitoes succeeded the storm, and their tormenting stings, superadded to other inconveniences, induced us to embark, and, after taking a hasty supper to pursue our voyage down the stream during the night. at six on the following morning we passed the rein-deer islands, and at ten reached the entrance of the dog river, where we halted to set the fishing nets. these were examined in the evening, but to our mortification we obtained only four small trout, and were compelled to issue part of our preserved meats for supper. the latitude of the mouth of dog river, was observed 59° 52' 16" n. the nets were taken up at daylight, but they furnished only a solitary pike. we lost no time in embarking, and crossed the crooked channel of the dog rapid, when two of the canoes came in such violent contact with each other, that the sternmost had its bow broken off. we were fortunately near the shore or the disabled canoe would have sunk. the injury being repaired in two hours, we again embarked, and having descended another rapid, arrived at the cassette portage of four hundred and sixty paces, over which the cargoes and canoes were carried in about twenty-six minutes. we next passed through a narrow channel full of rapids, crossed the portage d'embarras of seventy yards; and the portage of the little rock, of three hundred yards, at which another accident happened to one of the canoes, by the bowman slipping and letting it fall upon a rock, and breaking it in two. two hours were occupied in sewing the detached pieces together, and covering the seam with pitch; but this being done it was as effective as before. after leaving this place we soon came to the next portage, of two hundred and seventy-three paces; and shortly afterwards to the mountain portage, of one hundred and twenty: which is appropriately named, as the path leads over the summit of a high hill. this elevated situation commands a very grand and picturesque view, for some miles along the river, which at this part is about a mile wide. we next crossed a portage of one hundred and twenty yards; and then the pelican portage, of eight hundred paces. mr. back took an accurate sketch of the interesting scenery which the river presents at this place. after descending six miles further we came to the last portage on the route to slave lake which we crossed, and encamped in its lower end. it is called "_the portage of the drowned_," and it received that name from a melancholy accident which took place many years ago. two canoes arrived at the upper end of the portage, in one of which there was an experienced guide. this man judging from the height of the river, deemed it practicable to shoot the rapid, and determined upon trying it. he accordingly placed himself in the bow of his canoe, having previously agreed, that if the passage was found easy, he should, on reaching the bottom of the rapid, fire a musket, as a signal for the other canoe to follow. the rapid proved dangerous, and called forth all the skill of the guide, and the utmost exertion of his crew, and they narrowly escaped destruction. just as they were landing, an unfortunate fellow seizing the loaded fowling-piece, fired at a duck which rose at the instant. the guide anticipating the consequences, ran with the utmost haste to the other end of the portage, but he was too late: the other canoe had pushed off, and he arrived only to witness the fate of his comrades. they got alarmed in the middle of the rapid, the canoe was upset, and every man perished. the various rapids we passed this day, are produced by an assemblage of islands and rocky ledges, which obstruct the river, and divide it into many narrow channels. two of these channels are rendered still more difficult by accumulations of drift timber; a circumstance which has given a name to one of the portages. the rocks which compose the bed of the river, and the numerous islands, belong to the granite formation. the distance made to-day was thirteen miles. _july 21_.--we embarked at four a.m. and pursued our course down the river. the rocks cease at the last portage; and below it the banks are composed of alluvial soil, which is held together by the roots of trees and shrubs that crown their summits. the river is about a mile wide, and the current is greatly diminished. at eight we landed at the mouth of the salt river, and pitched our tents, intending to remain there that and the next day for the purpose of fishing. after breakfast, which made another inroad on our preserved meats, we proceeded up the river in a light canoe, to visit the salt springs, leaving a party behind to attend the nets. this river is about one hundred yards wide at its mouth. its waters did not become brackish until we had ascended it seven or eight miles; but when we had passed several rivulets of fresh water which flowed in, the main stream became very salt, at the same time contracting its width to fifteen or twenty yards. at a distance of twenty-two miles, including the windings of the river, the plains commence. having pitched the tent at this spot, we set out to visit the principal springs, and had walked about three miles when the musquitoes compelled us to give up our project. we did not see the termination of the plains toward the east, but on the north and west they are bounded by an even ridge, about six or seven hundred feet in height. several salt springs issue from the foot of this ridge, and spread their waters over the plain, which consists of tenacious clay. during the summer much evaporation takes place, and large heaps of salt are left behind crystallized in the form of cubes. some beds of grayish compact gypsum were exposed on the sides of the hills. the next morning after filling some casks with salt for our use during winter, we embarked to return, and had descended the river a few miles, when turning round a point, we perceived a buffalo plunge into the river before us. eager to secure so valuable a prize, we instantly opened a fire upon him from four muskets, and in a few minutes he fell, but not before he had received fourteen balls. the carcass was towed to the bank, and the canoe speedily laden with meat. after this piece of good fortune, we descended the stream merrily, our voyagers chanting their liveliest songs. on arrival at the mouth of the river, we found that our nets had not produced more than enough to supply a scanty meal to the men whom we had left behind, but this was now of little importance, as the acquisition of meat we had made would enable us to proceed without more delay to slave lake. the _poisson inconnu_ mentioned by mackenzie, is found here. it is a species of the genus salmo, and is said by the indians to ascend from the arctic sea, but being unable to pass the cascade of the slave river, is not found higher than this place. in the evening a violent thunder-storm came on with heavy rain, thermometer 70°. at a very early hour on the following morning we embarked, and continued to paddle against a very strong wind and high waves, under the shelter of the bank of the rivers, until two p.m., when having arrived at a more exposed part of the stream, the canoes took in so much water that we were obliged to disembark on a small island. the river here is from one mile and a quarter to one mile and three quarters wide. its banks are of moderate height, sandy, and well wooded. _july 24_.--we made more progress notwithstanding the continuance of the wind. the course of the river is very winding, making in one place a circuit of seven or eight miles round a peninsula, which is joined to the west bank by a narrow isthmus. near the foot of this elbow, a long island occupies the centre of the river, which it divides into two channels. the longitude was obtained near to it 113° 25' 36", and variation 27° 25' 14" n.,{51} and the latitude 60° 54' 52" n., about four miles farther down. we passed the mouth of a broad channel leading to the north-east, termed la grande rivière de jean, one of the two large branches by which the river pours its waters into the great slave lake; the flooded _delta_ at the mouth of the river is intersected by several smaller channels, through one of which, called the channel of the scaffold, we pursued our voyage on the following morning, and by eight a.m. reached the establishment of the north-west company on moose-deer island. we found letters from mr. wentzel, dated fort providence, a station on the north side of the lake, which communicated to us, that there was an indian guide waiting for us at that post; but, that the chief and the hunters, who were to accompany the party, had gone to a short distance to hunt, having become impatient at our delay. soon after landing, i visited the hudson's bay post on the same island, and engaged pierre st. germain, an interpreter for the copper indians. we regretted to find the posts of both the companies extremely bare of provision; but as the gentlemen in charge had despatched men on the preceding evening, to a band of indians, in search of meat, and they promised to furnish us with whatever should be brought, it was deemed advisable to wait for their return, as the smallest supply was now of importance to us. advantage was taken of the delay to repair effectually the canoe, which had been broken in the dog rapid. on the next evening the men arrived with the meat, and enabled mr. mccleod{52}, of the north-west company, to furnish us with four hundred pounds of dried provisions. mr. mcvicar, of the hudson's bay company, also supplied one hundred and fifty pounds. this quantity we considered would be sufficient, until we could join the hunters. we also obtained three fishing-nets, a gun, and a pair of pistols, which were all the stores these posts could furnish, although the gentlemen in charge were much disposed to assist us. moose-deer island is about a mile in diameter, and rises towards the centre about three hundred feet above the lake. its soil is in general sandy, in some parts swampy. the varieties of the northern berries grow abundantly on it. the north-west company's fort is in latitude 61° 11' 8" n.; longitude 113° 51' 37" w., being two hundred and sixty statute miles distant from fort chipewyan, by the river course. the variation of the compass is 25° 40' 47" e. the houses of the two companies are small, and have a bleak northern aspect. there are vast accumulations of drift wood on the shores of the lake, brought down by the river, which afford plenty of fuel. the inhabitants live principally on the fish, which the lake at certain seasons furnishes in great abundance; of these, the white fish, trout, and _poisson inconnu_ are considered the best. they also procure moose, buffalo, and rein-deer meat occasionally from their hunters; but these animals are generally found at the distance of several days' walk from the forts. the indians who trade here are chipewyans. beavers, martens, foxes, and musk-rats, are caught in numbers in the vicinity of this great body of water. the musquitoes here were still a serious annoyance to us, but less numerous than before. they were in some degree replaced by a small sandfly, whose bite is succeeded by a copious flow of blood, and considerable swelling, but is attended with incomparably less irritation, than the puncture of the musquito. on the 27th of july we embarked at four a.m., and proceeded along the south shore of the lake, through a narrow channel, formed by some islands, beyond the confluence of the principal branch of the slave river; and as far as stony island, where we breakfasted. this island is merely a rock of gneiss, that rises forty or fifty feet above the lake, and is precipitous on the north side. as the day was fine, and the lake smooth, we ventured upon paddling across to the rein-deer islands, which were distant about thirteen miles in a northern direction, instead of pursuing the usual track by keeping further along the south shore which inclines to the eastward from this point. these islands are numerous, and consist of granite, rising from one hundred to two hundred feet above the water. they are for the most part naked; but towards the centres of the larger ones, there is a little soil, and a few groves of pines. at seven in the evening we landed upon one of them, and encamped. on the following morning we ran before a strong breeze, and a heavy swell, for some hours, but at length were obliged to seek shelter on a large island adjoining to isle à la cache of mackenzie, where the following observations were obtained: latitude 61° 50' 18" n., longitude 113° 21' 40" w., and variation 31° 2' 06" e. the wind and swell having subsided in the afternoon, we re-embarked and steered towards the western point of the big-island of mackenzie, and when four miles distant from it, had forty-two fathoms soundings. passing between this island and a promontory of the main shore, termed big cape, we entered into a deep bay, which receives the waters from several rivers that come from the northward; and we immediately perceived a decrease in the temperature of the waters from 59° to 48°. we coasted along the eastern side of the bay, its western shore being always visible, but the canoes were exposed to the hazard of being broken by the numerous sunken rocks, which were scattered in our track. we encamped for the night on a rocky island, and by eight a.m. on the following morning, arrived at fort providence, which is situated twenty-one miles from the entrance of the bay. the post is exclusively occupied by the north-west company, the hudson's bay company having no settlement to the northward of great slave lake. we found mr. wentzel and our interpreter jean baptiste adam here, with one of the indian guides: but the chief of the tribe and his hunters were encamped with their families, some miles from the fort, in a good situation for fishing. our arrival was announced to him by a fire on the top of a hill, and before night a messenger came to communicate his intention of seeing us next morning. the customary present, of tobacco and some other articles, was immediately sent to him. mr. wentzel prepared me for the first conference with the indians by mentioning all the information they had already given to him. the duties allotted to this gentleman were, the management of the indians, the superintendence of the canadian voyagers, the obtaining, and the general distribution, of the provision, and the issue of the other stores. these services he was well qualified to perform, having been accustomed to execute similar duties, during a residence of upwards of twenty years in this country. we also deemed mr. wentzel to be a great acquisition to our party, as a check on the interpreters, he being one of the few traders who speak the chipewyan language. as we were informed that external appearances made lasting impressions on the indians, we prepared for the interview by decorating ourselves in uniform, and suspending a medal round each of our necks. our tents had been previously pitched and over one them a silken union flag was hoisted. soon after noon, on july 30th, several indian canoes were seen advancing in a regular line, and on their approach, the chief was discovered in the headmost, which was paddled by two men. on landing at the fort, the chief assumed a very grave aspect, and walked up to mr. wentzel with a measured and dignified step, looking neither to the right nor to the left, at the persons who had assembled on the beach to witness his debarkation, but preserving the same immoveability of countenance until he reached the hall, and was introduced to the officers. when he had smoked his pipe, drank a small portion of spirits and water himself, and issued a glass to each of his companions, who had seated themselves on the floor, he commenced his harangue, by mentioning the circumstances that led to his agreeing to accompany the expedition, an engagement which he was quite prepared to fulfil. he was rejoiced, he said, to see such great chiefs on his lands; his tribe were poor, but they loved white men who had been their benefactors; and he hoped that our visit would be productive of much good to them. the report which preceded our arrival, he said, had caused much grief to him. it was at first rumoured that a great medicine chief accompanied us, who was able to restore the dead to life; at this he rejoiced; the prospect of again seeing his departed relatives had enlivened his spirits, but his first communication with mr. wentzel had removed these vain hopes, and he felt as if his friends had a second time been torn from him. he now wished to be informed exactly of the nature of our expedition. in reply to this speech, which i understood had been prepared for many days, i endeavoured to explain the objects of our mission in a manner best calculated to ensure his exertions in our service. with this view, i told him that we were sent out by the greatest chief in the world, who was the sovereign also of the trading companies in the country; that he was the friend of peace, and had the interest of every nation at heart. having learned that his children in the north, were much in want of articles of merchandize, in consequence of the extreme length and difficulty of the present route; he had sent us to search for a passage by the sea, which if found, would enable large vessels to transport great quantities of goods more easily to their lands. that we had not come for the purpose of traffic, but solely to make discoveries for their benefit, as well as that of every other people. that we had been directed to inquire into the nature of all the productions of the countries we might pass through, and particularly respecting their inhabitants. that we desired the assistance of the indians in guiding us, and providing us with food; finally, that we were most positively enjoined by the great chief to recommend that hostilities should cease throughout this country; and especially between the indians and the esquimaux, whom he considered his children, in common with other natives; and by way of enforcing the latter point more strongly, i assured him that a forfeiture of all the advantages which might be anticipated from the expedition would be a certain consequence if any quarrel arose between his party and the esquimaux. i also communicated to him that owing to the distance we had travelled, we had now few more stores than was necessary for the use of our own party, a part of{53} these, however, should be forthwith presented to him; on his return he and his party, should be remunerated with cloth, ammunition, tobacco, and some useful iron materials, besides having their debts to the north-west company discharged. the chief, whose name is akaitcho or big-foot, replied by a renewal of his assurances, that he and his party would attend us to the end of our journey, and that they would do their utmost to provide us with the means of subsistence. he admitted that his tribe had made war upon the esquimaux, but said they were now desirous of peace, and unanimous in their opinion as to the necessity of all who accompanied us abstaining from every act of enmity against that nation. he added, however, that the esquimaux were very treacherous, and therefore recommended that we should advance towards them with caution. the communications which the chief and the guides then gave respecting the route to the copper-mine river, and its course to the sea, coincided in every material point with the statements which were made by boileau and black-meat at chipewyan, but they differed in their descriptions of the coast. the information, however, collected from both sources was very vague and unsatisfactory. none of his tribe had been more than three days' march along the sea-coast to the eastward of the river's mouth. as the water was unusually high this season, the indian guides recommended our going by a shorter route to the copper-mine river than that they had first proposed to mr. wentzel, and they assigned as a reason for the change, that the rein-deer would be sooner found upon this track. they then drew a chart of the proposed route on the floor with charcoal, exhibiting a chain of twenty-five small lakes extending towards the north, about one half of them connected by a river which flows into slave lake, near fort providence. one of the guides, named keskarrah, drew the copper-mine river, running through the upper lake, in a westerly direction towards the great bear lake, and then northerly to the sea. the other guide drew the river in a straight line to the sea from the above-mentioned place, but, after some dispute, admitted the correctness of the first delineation. the latter was elder brother to akaitcho, and he said that he had accompanied mr. hearne on his journey, and though very young at the time, still remembered many of the circumstances, and particularly the massacre committed by the indians on the esquimaux. they pointed out another lake to the southward of the river, about three days' journey distant from it, on which the chief proposed the next winter's establishment should be formed, as the rein-deer would pass there in the autumn and spring. its waters contained fish, and there was a sufficiency of wood for building as well as for the winter's consumption. these were important considerations, and determined me in pursuing the route they now proposed. they could not inform us what time we should take in reaching the lake, until they saw our manner of travelling in the large canoes, but they supposed we might be about twenty days, in which case i entertained the hope that if we could then procure provision we should have time to descend the copper-mine river for a considerable distance if not to the sea itself, and return to the lake before the winter set in. it may here be proper to mention that it had been my original plan to descend the mackenzie's river, and to cross the great bear lake from the eastern side of which, boileau informed me, there is a communication with the copper-mine river by four small lakes and portages, but, under our present circumstances, this course could not be followed, because it would remove us too far from the establishments at the great slave lake, to receive the supplies of ammunition and some other stores in the winter which were absolutely necessary for the prosecution of our journey, or to get the esquimaux interpreter, whom we expected. if i had not deemed these circumstances paramount i should have preferred the route by bear lake. akaitcho and the guides having communicated all the information they possessed on the different points to which our questions had been directed, i placed my medal round the neck of the chief, and the officers presented theirs to an elder brother of his and the two guides, communicating to them that these marks of distinction were given as tokens of our friendship and as pledges of the sincerity of our professions. being conferred in the presence of all the hunters their acquisition was highly gratifying to them, but they studiously avoided any great expression of joy, because such an exposure would have been unbecoming the dignity which the senior indians assume during a conference. they assured us, however, of their being duly sensible of these tokens of our regard, and that they should be preserved during their lives with the utmost care. the chief evinced much penetration and intelligence during the whole of this conversation, which gave us a favourable opinion of his intellectual powers. he made many inquiries respecting the discovery ships, under the command of captain parry, which had been mentioned to him, and asked why a passage had not been discovered long ago, if one existed. it may be stated that we gave a faithful explanation to all his inquiries, which policy would have prompted us to do if a love of truth had not; for whenever these northern nations detect a falsehood in the dealings of the traders, they make it an unceasing subject of reproach, and their confidence is irrecoverably lost. we presented to the chief, the two guides, and the seven hunters, who had engaged to accompany us, some cloth, blankets, tobacco, knives, daggers, besides other useful iron materials, and a gun to each; also a keg of very weak spirits and water, which they kept until the evening, as they had to try their guns before dark, and make the necessary preparations for commencing the journey on the morrow. they, however, did not leave us so soon, as the chief was desirous of being present, with his party, at the dance, which was given in the evening to our canadian voyagers. they were highly entertained by the vivacity and agility displayed by our companions in their singing and dancing: and especially by their imitating the gestures of a canadian, who placed himself in the most ludicrous postures; and, whenever this was done, the gravity of the chief gave way to violent bursts of laughter. in return for the gratification akaitcho had enjoyed, he desired his young men to exhibit the dog-rib indian dance; and immediately they ranged themselves in a circle, and, keeping their legs widely separated, began to jump simultaneously sideways; their bodies were bent, their hands placed on their hips, and they uttered forcibly the interjection _tsa_ at each jump. devoid as were their attitudes of grace, and their music of harmony, we were much amused by the novelty of the exhibition. in the midst of this scene an untoward accident occurred, which for a time interrupted our amusements. the tent in which dr. richardson and i lodged, having caught fire from some embers that had been placed in it to expel the musquitoes, was entirely burnt. hepburn, who was sleeping within it, close to some powder, most providentially awoke in time to throw it clear of the flame, and rescue the baggage, before any material injury had been received. we dreaded the consequences of this disaster upon the fickle minds of the indians, and wished it not to be communicated to them. the chief, however, was soon informed of it by one of his people, and expressed his desire that no future misfortune should be concealed from him. we found he was most concerned to hear that the flag had been burnt, but we removed his anxiety on that point, by the assurance that it could easily be repaired. we were advised by mr. wentzel to recommence the dancing after this event, lest the indians should imagine, by our putting a stop to it, that we considered the circumstance as an unfavourable commencement of our undertaking. we were, however deeply impressed with a grateful sense of the divine providence, in averting the threatened destruction of our stores, which would have been fatal to every prospect of proceeding forward this season. _august 1_.--this morning the indians set out, intending to wait for us at the mouth of the yellow-knife river. we remained behind to pack our stores, in bales of eighty pounds each, an operation which could not be done in the presence of these indians, as they are in the habit of begging for every thing they see. our stores consisted of two barrels of gunpowder, one hundred and forty pounds of ball and small shot, four fowling-pieces, a few old trading guns, eight pistols, twenty-four indian daggers, some packages of knives, chisels, axes, nails, and fastenings for a boat; a few yards of cloth, some blankets, needles, looking-glasses, and beads; together with nine fishing-nets, having meshes of different sizes. our provision was two casks of flour, two hundred dried rein-deer tongues, some dried moose-meat, portable soup, and arrow-root, sufficient in the whole for ten days' consumption, besides two cases of chocolate, and two canisters of tea. we engaged another canadian voyager at this place, and the expedition then consisted of twenty-eight persons, including the officers, and the wives of three of our voyagers, who were brought for the purpose of making shoes and clothes for the men at the winter establishment; there were also three children, belonging to two of these women[18]. [18] the following is the list of the officers and men who composed the expedition on its departure from fort providence: john franklin, lieutenant of the royal navy and commander. john richardson, m.d., surgeon of the royal navy. mr. george back, of the royal navy, admiralty midshipman. mr. robert hood, of the royal navy, admiralty midshipman. mr. frederick wentzel, clerk to the north-west company. john hepburn, english seaman. canadian voyagers. joseph peltier, matthew pelonquin, dit crèdit, solomon belanger, joseph benoit, joseph gagné, pierre dumas, joseph forcier, ignace perrault, francois samandré, gabriel beauparlant, vincenza fontano, registe vaillant, jean baptiste parent, jean baptiste belanger, jean baptiste belleau, emanuel cournoyée, michel teroahauté, an iroquois. interpreters. pierre st. germain, jean baptiste adam, chipewyan bois brulés. our observations place fort providence in latitude 62° 17' 19" n., longitude 114° 9' 28" w.; the variation of the compass is 33° 35' 55" e., and dip of the needle 86° 38' 02". it is distant from moose-deer island sixty-six geographic miles. this is the last establishment of the traders in this direction, but the north-west company have two to the northward of it, on the mackenzie river. it has been erected for the convenience of the copper and dog-rib indians, who generally bring such a quantity of rein-deer meat that the residents are enabled, out of their superabundance, to send annually some provision to the fort at moose-deer island. they also occasionally procure moose and buffalo meat, but these animals are not numerous on this side of the lake. few furs are collected. _les poissons inconnus_, trout, pike, carp, and white-fish are very plentiful, and on these the residents principally subsist. their great supply of fish is procured in the latter part of september and the beginning of october, but there are a few taken daily in the nets during the winter. the surrounding country consists almost entirely of coarse grained granite, frequently enclosing large masses of reddish felspar. these rocks form hills which attain an elevation of three hundred or four hundred feet, about a mile behind the house; their surface is generally naked, but in the valleys between them grow a few spruce, aspen, and birch trees, together with a variety of shrubs and berry-bearing plants. on the afternoon of the 2d of august we commenced our journey, having, in addition to our three canoes, a smaller one to convey the women; we were all in high spirits, being heartily glad that the time had at length arrived when our course was to be directed towards the copper-mine river, and through a line of country which had not been previously visited by any european. we proceeded to the northward, along the eastern side of a deep bay of the lake, passing through various channels, formed by an assemblage of rocky islands; and, at sunset, encamped on a projecting point of the north main shore, eight miles from fort providence. to the westward of this arm, or bay, of the lake, there is another deep bay, that receives the waters of a river, which communicates with great marten lake, where the north-west company had once a post established. the eastern shores of the great slave lake are very imperfectly known: none of the traders have visited them, and the indians give such loose and unsatisfactory accounts, that no estimation can be formed of its extent in that direction. these men say there is a communication from its eastern extremity by a chain of lakes, with a shallow river, which discharges its waters into the sea. this stream they call the thlouee-tessy{54}, and report it to be navigable for indian canoes only. the forms of the south and western shores are better known from the survey of sir alexander mackenzie, and in consequence of the canoes having to pass and repass along these borders annually, between moose-deer island and mackenzie's river. our observations made the breadth of the lake, between stony island, and the north main shore, sixty miles less than it is laid down in arrowsmith's map; and there is also a considerable difference in the longitude of the eastern side of the bay, which we entered. this lake, owing to its great depth, is seldom completely frozen over before the last week in november, and the ice, which is generally seven feet thick, breaks up about the middle of june, three weeks later than that of the slave river. the only known outlet to this vast body of water, which receives so many streams on its north and south shores, is the mackenzie's river. _august 3_.--we embarked at three a.m. and proceeded to the entrance of the yellow-knife river of the traders, which is called by the natives beg-ho-lo-dessy; or, river of the toothless fish. we found akaitcho, and the hunters with their families, encamped here. there were also several other indians of his tribe, who intended to accompany us some distance into the interior. this party was quickly in motion after our arrival, and we were soon surrounded by a fleet of seventeen indian canoes. in company with them we paddled up the river, which is one hundred and fifty yards wide, and, in an hour, came to a cascade of five feet, where we were compelled to make a portage of one hundred and fifty-eight yards. we next crossed a dilatation of the river, about six miles in length, upon which the name of lake prosperous was bestowed. its shores, though scantily supplied with wood, are very picturesque. akaitcho caused himself to be paddled by his slave, a young man, of the dog-rib nation, whom he had taken by force from his friends; when he thought himself, however, out of reach of our observation, he laid aside a good deal of his state, and assisted in the labour; and after a few days further acquaintance with us, he did not hesitate to paddle in our presence, or even carry his canoe on the portages. several of the canoes were managed by women, who proved to be noisy companions, for they quarrelled frequently, and the weakest was generally profuse in her lamentations, which were not at all diminished, when the husband attempted to settle the difference by a few blows with his paddle. an observation, near the centre of the lake, gave 114° 13' 39" w., and 33° 8' 06" e., variation. leaving the lake, we ascended a very strong rapid, and arrived at a range of three steep cascades, situated in the bend of the river. here we made a portage of one thousand three hundred yards over a rocky hill, which received the name of the bowstring portage, from its shape. we found that the indians had greatly the advantage of us in this operation; the men carried their small canoes, the women and children the clothes and provisions, and at the end of the portage they were ready to embark; whilst it was necessary for our people to return four times, before they could transport the weighty cargo with which we were burdened. after passing through another expansion of the river, and over the steep portage of one hundred and fifteen yards, we encamped on a small rocky isle, just large enough to hold our party, and the indians took possession of an adjoining rock. we were now thirty miles from fort providence. as soon as the tents were pitched, the officers and men were divided into watches for the night; a precaution intended to be taken throughout the journey, not merely to prevent our being surprised by strangers, but also to shew our companions that we were constantly on our guard. the chief who suffered nothing to escape his observation, remarked, "that he should sleep without anxiety among the esquimaux, for he perceived no enemy could surprise us." after supper we retired to rest, but our sleep was soon interrupted by the indians joining in loud lamentations over a sick child, whom they supposed to be dying. dr. richardson, however, immediately went to the boy, and administered some medicine which relieved his pain, and put a stop to their mourning. the temperatures, this day, were at four a.m., 54°, three p.m. 72°, at seven p.m. 65°. on the 4th we crossed a small lake, and passed in succession over the blue berry cascade, and double fall portages, where the river falls over ridges of rocks that completely obstruct the passage for canoes. we came to three strong rapids beyond these barriers, which were surmounted by the aid of the poles and lines, and then to a bend of the river in which the cascades were so frequent, that to avoid them we carried the canoes into a chain of small lakes. we entered them by a portage of nine hundred and fifty paces, and during the afternoon traversed three other grassy lakes and encamped on the banks of the river, at the end of the yellow-knife portage, of three hundred and fifty paces. this day's work was very laborious to our men. akaitcho, however, had directed his party to assist them in carrying their burdens on the portages, which they did cheerfully. this morning mr. back caught several fish with a fly, a method of fishing entirely new to the indians; and they were not more delighted than astonished at his skill and success. the extremes of temperature to-day{55} were 54° and 65°. on august 5th we continued the ascent of the river which varied much in breadth as did the current in rapidity. it flows between high rocky banks on which there is sufficient soil to support pines, birch, and poplars. five portages were crossed, then the rocky lake, and we finished our labours at the end of the sixth portage. the issue of dried meat for breakfast this morning had exhausted all our stock; and no other provision remained but the portable soups, and a few pounds of preserved meat. at the recommendation of akaitcho, the hunters were furnished with ammunition, and desired to go forward as speedily as possible, to the part where the rein-deer were expected to be found; and to return to us with any provision they could procure. he also assured us that in our advance towards them we should come to lakes abounding in fish. many of the indians being likewise in distress for food, decided on separating from us, and going on at a quicker pace than we could travel. akaitcho himself was always furnished with a portion at our meals, as a token of regard which the traders have taught the chiefs to expect, and which we willingly paid. the next morning we crossed a small lake and a portage, before we entered the river; shortly afterwards, the canoes and cargoes were carried a mile along its banks, to avoid three very strong rapids, and over another portage into a narrow lake; we encamped on an island in the middle of it, to set the nets; but they only yielded a few fish, and we had a very scanty supper, as it was necessary to deal out our provision sparingly. the longitude 114° 27' 03" w. and variation{56} 33° 04" e., were observed. we had the mortification of finding the nets entirely empty next morning, an untoward circumstance that discouraged our voyagers very much; and they complained of being unable to support the fatigue to which they were daily exposed, on their present scanty fare. we had seen with regret that the portages were more frequent as we advanced to the northward, and feared that their strength would fail, if provision were not soon obtained. we embarked at six, proceeded to the head of the lake, and crossed a portage of two thousand five hundred paces, leading over ridges of sand-hills, which nourished pines of a larger size than we had lately seen. this conducted us to mossy lake, whence we regained the river, after traversing another portage. the birch and poplar portages next followed, and beyond these we came to a part where the river takes a great circuit, and its course is interrupted by several heavy falls. the guide, therefore, advised us to quit it, and proceed through a chain of nine lakes extending to the north-east, which we did, and encamped on icy portage, where the nets were set. the bottom of the valley, through which the track across this portage led, was covered with ice four or five feet thick, the remains of a large iceberg, which is annually formed there, by the snow drifting into the valley, and becoming consolidated into ice by the overflowing of some springs that are warm enough to resist the winter's cold. the latitude is 63° 22' 15" n., longitude 114° 15' 30" w. we were alarmed in the night by our fire communicating to the dry moss, which, spreading by the force of a strong wind, encircled the encampment and threatened destruction to our canoes and baggage. the watch immediately aroused all the men, who quickly removed whatever could be injured to a distant part, and afterwards succeeded in extinguishing the flame. _august 8_.--during this day we crossed five portages, passing over a very bad road. the men were quite exhausted with fatigue by five p.m., when we were obliged to encamp on the borders of the fifth lake, in which the fishing nets were set. we began this evening to issue some portable soup and arrow-root, which our companions relished very much; but this food is too unsubstantial to support their vigour under their daily exhausting labour, and we could not furnish them with a sufficient quantity even of this to satisfy their desires. we commenced our labours on the next day in a very wet uncomfortable state, as it had rained through the night until four a.m. the fifth grassy lake was crossed, and four others, with their intervening portages, and we returned to the river by a portage of one thousand four hundred and fifteen paces. the width of the stream here is about one hundred yards, its banks are moderately high and scantily covered with wood. we afterwards twice carried the cargoes along its banks to avoid a very stony rapid, and then crossed the first carp portage in longitude 114° 2' 01" w., variation of the compass 32° 30' 40" e., and encamped on the borders of lower carp lake. the chief having told us that this was a good lake for fishing, we determined on halting for a day or two to recruit our men, of whom three were lame, and several others had swelled legs. the chief himself went forward to look after the hunters, and promised to make a fire as a signal if they had killed any rein-deer. all the indians had left us in the course of yesterday and to-day to seek these animals, except the guide keskarrah. _august 10_.--the nets furnishing only four carp, we embarked for the purpose of searching for a better spot, and encamped again on the shores of the same lake. the spirits of the men were much revived by seeing some recent traces of rein-deer at this place, which circumstance caused them to cherish the hope of soon getting a supply of meat from the hunters. they were also gratified by finding abundance of blue berries near the encampment, which made an agreeable and substantial addition to their otherwise scanty fare. we were teased by sand-flies this evening, although the thermometer did not rise above 45°. the country through which we had travelled for some days consists principally of granite, intermixed in some spots with mica-slate, often passing into clay-slate. but the borders of lower carp lake, where the gneiss formation prevails, are composed of hills, having less altitude, fewer precipices, and more rounded summits. the valleys are less fertile, containing a gravelly soil and fewer trees; so that the country has throughout a more barren aspect. _august 11_.--having caught sufficient trout, white-fish, and carp, yesterday and this morning, to afford the party two hearty meals, and the men having recovered their fatigue, we proceeded on our journey, crossed the upper carp portage, and embarked on the lake of that name, where we had the gratification of paddling for ten miles. we put up at its termination to fish, by the advice of our guide, and the following observations were then taken: longitude 113° 46' 35" w., variation of the compass 36° 45' 30" e., dip 87° 11' 48". at this place we first perceived the north end of our dipping-needle to pass the perpendicular line when the instrument was faced to the west. we had scarcely quitted the encampment next day before an indian met us, with the agreeable communication, that the hunters had made several fires, which were certain indications of their having killed rein-deer. this intelligence inspired our companions with fresh energy, and they quickly traversed the next portage, and paddled through the rein-deer lake; at the north side of it we found the canoes of our hunters, and learned from our guide, that the indians usually leave their canoes here, as the water communication on their hunting grounds is bad. the yellow-knife river had now dwindled into an insignificant rivulet, and we could not trace it beyond the next lake, except as a mere brook. the latitude of its source 64° 1' 30" n., longitude 113° 36' w., and its length is one hundred and fifty-six statute miles. though this river is of sufficient breadth and depth for navigating in canoes, yet i conceive its course is too much interrupted by cascades and rapids for its ever being used as a channel for the conveyance of merchandise. whilst the crews were employed in making a portage over the foot of prospect hill, we ascended to the top of it, and as it is the highest ground in the neighbourhood, its summit, which is about five hundred feet above the water, commands an extensive view. akaitcho, who was here with his family, pointed out to us the smoke of the distant fires which the hunters had made. the prospect is agreeably diversified by an intermixture of hill and valley, and the appearance of twelve lakes in different directions. on the borders of these lakes a few thin pine groves occur, but the country in general is destitute of almost every vegetable, except a few berry-bearing shrubs and lichens, and has a very barren aspect. the hills are composed of gneiss, but their acclivities are covered with a coarse gravelly soil. there are many large loose stones both on their sides and summits composed of the same materials as the solid rock. we crossed another lake in the evening, encamped, and set the nets. the chief made a large fire to announce our situation to the hunters. _august 13_.--we caught twenty fish this morning, but they were small, and furnished but a scanty breakfast for the party. whilst this meal was preparing, our canadian voyagers, who had been for some days past murmuring at their meagre diet, and striving to get the whole of our little provision to consume at once, broke out into open discontent, and several of them threatened they would not proceed forward unless more food was given to them. this conduct was the more unpardonable, as they saw we were rapidly approaching the fires of the hunters, and that provision might soon be expected. i, therefore, felt the duty incumbent on me to address them in the strongest manner on the danger of insubordination, and to assure them of my determination to inflict the heaviest punishment on any that should persist in their refusal to go on, or in any other way attempt to retard the expedition. i considered this decisive step necessary, having learned from the gentlemen, most intimately acquainted with the character of the canadian voyagers, that they invariably try how far they can impose upon every new master, and that they will continue to be disobedient and intractable if they once gain any ascendency over him. i must admit, however, that the present hardships of our companions were of a kind which few could support without murmuring, and no one could witness without a sincere pity for their sufferings. after this discussion we went forward until sunset. in the course of the day we crossed seven lakes and as many portages. just as we had encamped we were delighted to see four of the hunters arrive with the flesh of two rein-deer. this seasonable supply, though only sufficient for this evening's and the next day's consumption, instantly revived the spirits of our companions, and they immediately forgot all their cares. as we did not, after this period, experience any deficiency of food during this journey, they worked extremely well, and never again reflected upon us as they had done before, for rashly bringing them into an inhospitable country, where the means of subsistence could not be procured. several blue fish, resembling the grayling, were caught in a stream which flows out of hunter's lake. it is remarkable for the largeness of the dorsal fin and the beauty of its colours. _august 14_.--having crossed the hunter's portage, we entered the lake of the same name, in latitude 64° 6' 47" n., longitude 113° 25' 00" w; but soon quitted it by desire of the indian guide, and diverged more to the eastward that we might get into the line upon which our hunters had gone. this was the only consideration that could have induced us to remove to a chain of small lakes connected by long portages. we crossed three of these, and then were obliged to encamp to rest the men. the country is bare of wood except a few dwarf birch bushes, which grow near the borders of the lakes, and here and there a few stunted pines; and our fuel principally consisted of the roots of decayed pines, which we had some difficulty to collect in sufficient quantity for cooking. when this material is wanting, the rein-deer lichen and other mosses that grow in profusion on the gravelly acclivities of the hills are used as substitutes. three more of the hunters arrived with meat this evening, which supply came very opportunely as our nets were unproductive. at eight p.m., a faint aurora borealis appeared to the southward, the night was cold, the wind strong from n.w. we were detained some time in the following morning before the fishing-nets, which had sunk in the night, could be recovered. after starting we first crossed the orkney lake, then a portage which brought us to sandy lake, and here we missed one of our barrels of powder, which the steersman of the canoe then recollected had been left the day before. he and two other men were sent back to search for it, in the small canoe. the rest of the party proceeded to the portage on the north side of the grizzle-bear lake, where the hunters had made a deposit of meat, and there encamped to await their return, which happened at nine p.m., with the powder. we perceived from the direction of this lake, that considerable labour would have been spared if we had continued our course yesterday instead of striking off at the guide's suggestion, as the bottom of this lake cannot be far separated from either hunter's lake or the one to the westward of it. the chief and all the indians went off to hunt, accompanied by pierre st. germain, the interpreter. they returned at night, bringing some meat, and reported that they had put the carcases of several rein-deer _en cache_. these were sent for early next morning, and as the weather was unusually warm, the thermometer, at noon, being 77°, we remained stationary all day, that the women might prepare the meat for keeping, by stripping the flesh from the bones and drying it in the sun over a slow fire. the hunters were again successful, and by the evening we had collected the carcases of seventeen deer. as this was a sufficient store to serve us until we arrived at winter lake, the chief proposed that he and his hunters should proceed to that place and collect some provision against our arrival. he also requested that we would allow him to be absent ten days to provide his family with clothing, as the skin of the rein-deer is unfit for that purpose after the month of september. we could not refuse to grant such a reasonable request, but caused st. germain to accompany him, that his absence might not exceed the appointed time. previous to his departure the chief warned us to be constantly on our guard against the grizzly bears, which he described as being numerous in this vicinity, and very ferocious; one had been seen this day by an indian, to which circumstance the lake owes its appellation. we afterwards learned that the only bear in this part of the country is the brown bear, and that this by no means possesses the ferocity which the indians, with their usual love of exaggeration, ascribe to it. the fierce grizzly bear, which frequents the sources of the missouri, is not found on the barren grounds. the shores of this lake and the neighbouring hills are principally composed of sand and gravel; they are much varied in their outline and present some picturesque scenery. the following observations were taken here: latitude 64° 15' 17" n., longitude 113° 2' 39" w.; variation of the compass 36° 50' 47" e.; and dip of the needle 87° 20' 35". on august the 17th, having finished drying the meat, which had been retarded by the heavy showers of rain that fell in the morning, we embarked at one p.m. and crossed two lakes and two portages. the last of these was two thousand and sixty-six paces long, and very rugged, so that the men were much fatigued. on the next day we received the flesh of four rein-deer by the small canoe which had been sent for it, and heard that the hunters had killed several more deer on our route. we saw many of these animals as we passed along; and our companions, delighted with the prospect of having food in abundance, now began to accompany their paddling with singing, which they had discontinued ever since our provisions became scarce. we passed from one small lake to another over four portages, then crossed a lake about six miles in diameter, and encamped on its border, where, finding pines, we enjoyed the luxury of a good fire, which we had not done for some days. at ten p.m. the aurora borealis appeared very brilliant in an arch across the zenith, from north-west to south-east, which afterwards gave place to a beautiful corona borealis. _august 19_.--after crossing a portage of five hundred and ninety-five paces, a small lake and another portage of two thousand paces, which occupied the crews seven hours, we embarked on a small stream, running towards the north-west, which carried us to the lake, where akaitcho proposed that we should pass the winter. the officers ascended several of the loftiest hills in the course of the day, prompted by a natural anxiety to examine the spot which was to be their residence for many months. the prospect, however, was not then the most agreeable, as the borders of the lake seemed to be scantily furnished with wood, and that of a kind too small for the purposes of building. we perceived the smoke of a distant fire which the indians suppose had been made by some of the dog-ribbed tribe, who occasionally visit this part of the country. embarking at seven next morning, we paddled to the western extremity of the lake, and there found a small river, which flows out of it to the s.w. to avoid a strong rapid at its commencement, we made a portage, and then crossed to the north bank of the river, where the indians recommended that the winter establishment should be erected, and we soon found that the situation they had chosen possessed all the advantages we could desire. the trees were numerous, and of a far greater size than we had supposed them to be in a distant view, some of the pines being thirty or forty feet high, and two feet in diameter at the root. we determined on placing the house on the summit of the bank, which commands a beautiful prospect of the surrounding country. the view in the front is bounded at the distance of three miles, by round-backed hills; to the eastward and westward lie the winter and round-rock lakes, which are connected by the winter river, whose banks are well clothed with pines, and ornamented with a profusion of mosses, lichens, and shrubs. in the afternoon we read divine service, and offered our thanksgiving to the almighty for his goodness in having brought us thus far on our journey; a duty which we never neglected, when stationary on the sabbath. the united length of the portages we had crossed, since leaving fort providence, is twenty-one statute miles and a half; and as our men had to traverse each portage four times, with a load of one hundred and eighty pounds, and return three times light, they walked in the whole upwards of one hundred and fifty miles. the total length of our voyage from chipewyan is five hundred and fifty-three miles[19]. [19] statute miles. stony and slave rivers 260 slave lake 107 yellow-knife river 156.5 barren country between the source of the yellow-knife river and fort enterprise 29.5 ---- 553 a fire was made on the south side of the river to inform the chief of our arrival, which spreading before a strong wind, caught the whole wood, and we were completely enveloped in a cloud of smoke for the three following days. on the next morning our voyagers were divided into two parties, the one to cut the wood for the building of a store-house, and the other to fetch the meat as the hunters procured it. an interpreter was sent with keskarrah, the guide, to search for the indians who had made the fire seen on saturday, from whom we might obtain some supplies of provision. an indian was also despatched to akaitcho, with directions for him to come to this place directly, and bring whatever provision he had as we were desirous of proceeding, without delay, to the copper-mine river. in the evening our men brought in the carcases of seven rein-deer, which two hunters had shot yesterday, and the women commenced drying the meat for our journey. we also obtained a good supply of fish from our nets to-day. a heavy rain, on the 23d, prevented the men from working, either at the building, or going for meat; but on the next day the weather was fine, and they renewed their labours. the thermometer, that day did not rise higher than 42°, and it fell to 31° before midnight. on the morning of the 25th, we were surprised by some early symptoms of the approach of winter; the small pools were frozen over, and a flock of geese passed to the southward. in the afternoon, however, a fog came on, which afterwards changed into rain, and the ice quickly disappeared. we suffered great anxiety all the next day respecting john hepburn, who had gone to hunt before sunrise on the 25th, and had been absent ever since. about four hours after his departure the wind changed, and a dense fog obscured every mark by which his course to the tents could be directed, and we thought it probable he had been wandering in an opposite direction to our situation, as the two hunters, who had been sent to look for him, returned at sunset without having seen him. akaitcho arrived with his party, and we were greatly disappointed at finding they had stored up only fifteen rein-deer for us. st. germain informed us, that having heard of the death of the chief's brother-in-law, they had spent several days in bewailing his loss, instead of hunting. we learned also, that the decease of this man had caused another party of the tribe, who had been sent by mr. wentzel to prepare provision for us on the banks of the copper-mine river, to remove to the shores of the great bear lake, distant from our proposed route. mortifying as these circumstances were, they produced less painful sensations than we experienced in the evening, by the refusal of akaitcho to accompany us in the proposed descent of the copper-mine river. when mr. wentzel, by my direction, communicated to him my intention of proceeding at once on that service, he desired a conference with me upon the subject, which being immediately granted, he began, by stating, that the very attempt would be rash and dangerous, as the weather was cold, the leaves were falling, some geese had passed to the southward, and the winter would shortly set in; and that, as he considered the lives of all who went on such a journey would be forfeited, he neither would go himself, nor permit his hunters to accompany us. he said there was no wood within eleven days' march, during which time we could not have any fire, as the moss, which the indians use in their summer excursions, would be too wet for burning, in consequence of the recent rains; that we should be forty days in descending the copper-mine river, six of which would be expended in getting to its banks, and that we might be blocked up by the ice in the next moon; and during the whole journey the party must experience great suffering for want of food, as the rein-deer had already left the river. he was now reminded that these statements were very different from the account he had given, both at fort providence and on the route hither; and that, up to this moment, we had been encouraged by his conversation to expect that the party might descend the copper-mine river, accompanied by the indians. he replied, that at the former place he had been unacquainted with our slow mode of travelling, and that the alteration in his opinion arose from the advance of winter. we now informed him that we were provided with instruments by which we could ascertain the state of the air and water, and that we did not imagine the winter to be so near as he supposed; however, we promised to return on discovering the first change in the season. he was also told that all the baggage being left behind, our canoes, would now, of course, travel infinitely more expeditiously than any thing he had hitherto witnessed. akaitcho appeared to feel hurt, that we should continue to press the matter further, and answered with some warmth: "well, i have said every thing i can urge, to dissuade you from going on this service, on which, it seems, you wish to sacrifice your own lives, as well as the indians who might attend you: however, if after all i have said, you are determined to go, some of my young men shall join the party, because it shall not be said that we permitted you to die alone after having brought you hither; but from the moment they embark in the canoes, i and my relatives shall lament them as dead." we could only reply to this forcible appeal, by assuring him and the indians who were seated around him, that we felt the most anxious solicitude for the safety of every individual, and that it was far from our intention to proceed without considering every argument for and against the proposed journey. we next informed him, that it would be very desirable to see the river at any rate, that we might give some positive information about its situation and size, in our next letters to the great chief; and that we were very anxious to get on its banks, for the purpose of observing an eclipse of the sun, which we described to him, and said would happen in a few days. he received this communication with more temper than the preceding, though he immediately assigned as a reason for his declining to go, that "the indians must now procure a sufficient quantity of deer-skins for winter clothing for themselves, and dresses for the canadians, who would need them if they had to travel in the winter." finding him so averse to proceed, and feeling at the same time, how essential his continuance with us was, not only to our future success, but even to our existence during the winter, i closed the conversation here, intending to propose to him next morning, some modification of the plan, which might meet his approbation. soon after we were gone, however, he informed mr. wentzel, with whom he was in the habit of speaking confidentially, that as his advice was neglected, his presence was useless, and he should, therefore, return to fort providence with his hunters, after he had collected some winter provision for us. mr. wentzel having reported this to me, the night was passed in great anxiety, and after weighing all the arguments that presented themselves to my mind, i came reluctantly to the determination of relinquishing the intention of going any distance down the river this season. i had considered, that could we ascertain what were the impediments to the navigation of the copper-mine{57} river, what wood grew on its banks, if fit for boat building, and whether drift timber existed where the country was naked, our operations next season would be much facilitated; but we had also cherished the hope of reaching the sea this year, for the indians in their conversations with us, had only spoken of two great rapids as likely to obstruct us. this was a hope extremely painful to give up; for, in the event of success, we should have ascertained whether the sea was clear of ice, and navigable for canoes; have learned the disposition of the esquimaux; and might have obtained other information that would have had great influence on our future proceedings. i must confess, however, that my opinion of the probability of our being able to attain so great a desideratum this season had been somewhat altered by the recent changes in the weather, although, had the chief been willing to accompany us with his party, i should have made the attempt; with the intention, however, of returning immediately upon the first decided appearance of winter. on the morning of august 27th, having communicated my sentiments to the officers, on the subject of the conference last evening, they all agreed that the descent to the sea this season could not be attempted, without hazarding a complete rupture with the indians; but they thought that a party should be sent to ascertain the distance and size of the copper-mine river. these opinions, being in conformity with my own, i determined on despatching messrs. back and hood on that service, in a light canoe, as soon as possible. we witnessed this morning an instance of the versatility of our indian companions, which gave us much uneasiness, as it regarded the safety of our faithful attendant hepburn. when they heard, on their arrival last night, of his having been so long absent, they expressed the greatest solicitude about him, and the whole party immediately volunteered to go in search of him as soon as daylight permitted. their resolutions, however, seem to have been changed, in consequence of the subsequent conversation we had with the chief, and we found all of them indisposed to proceed on that errand this morning; and it was only by much entreaty, that three of the hunters and a boy were prevailed upon to go. they fortunately succeeded in their search, and we were infinitely rejoiced to see hepburn return with them in the afternoon, though much jaded by the fatigue he had undergone. he had got bewildered, as we had conjectured, in the foggy weather on the 25th, and had been wandering about ever since, except during half an hour that he slept yesterday. he had eaten only a partridge and some berries, for his anxiety of mind had deprived him of appetite; and of a deer which he had shot, he took only the tongue, and the skin to protect himself from the wind and rain. this anxiety, we learned from him, was occasioned by the fear that the party which was about to descend the copper-mine river, might be detained until he was found, or that it might have departed without him. he did not entertain any dread of the white bears, of whose numbers and ferocious attacks the indians had been constantly speaking, since we had entered the barren grounds. our fears for his safety, however, were in a considerable degree excited by the accounts we had received of these animals. having made a hearty supper he retired to rest, slept soundly, and arose next morning in perfect health. on the 28th of august akaitcho was informed of our intention to send a party to the river, and of the reasons for doing so, of which he approved, when he found that i had relinquished the idea of going myself, in compliance with the desire which he and the indians had expressed; and he immediately said two of the hunters should go to provide them with food on the journey, and to serve as guides. during this conversation we gathered from him, for the first time, that there might still be some of his tribe near to the river, from whom the party could get provision. our next object was to despatch the indians to their hunting-ground to collect provision for us, and to procure the fat of the deer for our use during the winter, and for making the pemmican we should require in the spring. they were therefore furnished with some ammunition, clothing, and other necessary articles, and directed to take their departure as soon as possible. akaitcho came into our tent this evening at supper, and made several pertinent inquiries respecting the eclipse, of which we had spoken last night. he desired to know the effect that would be produced, and the cause of it, which we endeavoured to explain; and having gained this information, he sent for several of his companions, that they might also have it repeated to them. they were most astonished at our knowing the time at which this event should happen, and remarked that this knowledge was a striking proof of the superiority of the whites over the indians. we took advantage of this occasion to speak to them respecting the supreme being, who ordered all the operations of nature, and to impress on their minds the necessity of paying strict attention to their moral duties, in obedience to his will. they readily assented to all these points, and akaitcho assured us that both himself and his young men would exert themselves in obtaining provision for us, in return for the interesting communications we had just made to them. having received a supply of dried meat from the indian lodges, we were enabled to equip the party for the copper-mine river, and at nine a.m., on the 29th, mr. back and mr. hood embarked on that service in a light canoe, with st. germain, eight canadians and one indian. we could not furnish them with more than eight days' provision, which, with their blankets, two tents, and a few instruments, composed their lading. mr. back, who had charge of the party, was directed to proceed to the river, and if, when he arrived at its banks, the weather should continue to be mild, and the temperature of the water was not lower than 40°, he might embark, and descend the stream for a few days to gain some knowledge of its course, but he was not to go so far as to risk his being able to return to this place in a fortnight with the canoe. but, if the weather should be severe, and the temperature of the water below 40°, he was not to embark, but return immediately, and endeavour to ascertain the best track for our goods to be conveyed thither next spring. we had seen that the water decreases rapidly in temperature at this season, and i feared that, if he embarked to descend the river when it was below 40°, the canoe might be frozen in, and the crew have to walk back in very severe weather. as soon as the canoes had started, akaitcho and the indians took their departure also, except two of the hunters, who staid behind to kill deer in our neighbourhood, and old keskarrah and his family, who remained as our guests. the fishing-nets were this day transferred from the river in which they had been set since our arrival, to winter lake, whither the fish had removed, and the fishermen built a log-hut on its borders to reside in, that they might attend more closely to their occupation. the month of september commenced with very disagreeable weather. the temperature of the atmosphere ranged between 39° and 31° during the first three days, and that of the water in the river decreased from 49° to 44°. several rein-deer and a large flight of white geese passed to the southward. these circumstances led us to fear for the comfort, if not for the safety, of our absent friends. on the 4th of september we commenced building our dwelling-house, having cut sufficient wood for the frame of it. in the afternoon of september the 6th, we removed our tent to the summit of a hill, about three miles distant, for the better observing the eclipse, which was calculated to occur on the next morning. we were prevented, however, from witnessing it by a heavy snow-storm, and the only observation we could then make was to examine whether the temperature of the atmosphere altered during the eclipse, but we found that both the mercurial and spirit thermometers remained steadily at 30° for a quarter of an hour previous to its commencement, during its continuance, and for half an hour subsequent to its termination; we remarked the wind increased very much, and the snow fell in heavier flakes just after the estimated time of its commencement. this boisterous weather continued until three p.m., when the wind abated, and the snow changed to rain. as there was now no immediate occasion for my remaining on the spot, the eclipse being over, and the indians having removed to their hunting-grounds, dr. richardson and i determined on taking a pedestrian excursion to the copper-mine river, leaving mr. wentzel in charge of the men, and to superintend the buildings. on the morning of september the 9th we commenced our journey, under the guidance of old keskarrah, and accompanied by john hepburn and samandré, who carried our blankets, cooking utensils, hatchets, and a small supply of dried meat. our guide led us from the top of one hill to the top of another, making as straight a course to the northward as the numerous lakes, with which the country is intersected, would permit. at noon we reached a remarkable hill, with precipitous sides, named by the copper indians the dog-rib rock, and its latitude, 64° 34' 52" s.{58}, was obtained. the canoe-track passes to the eastward of this rock, but we kept to the westward, as being the more direct course. from the time we quitted the banks of winter river we saw only a few detached clumps of trees; but after we passed dog-rib rock even these disappeared, and we travelled through a naked country. in the course of the afternoon keskarrah killed a rein-deer, and loaded himself with its head and skin, and our men also carried off a few pounds of its flesh for supper; but their loads were altogether too great to permit them to take much additional weight. keskarrah offered to us as a great treat the raw marrow from the hind legs of the animal, of which all the party ate except myself, and thought it very good. i was also of the same opinion, when i subsequently conquered my then too fastidious taste. we halted for the night on the borders of a small lake, which washed the base of a ridge of sand-hills, about three hundred feet high, having walked in direct distance sixteen miles. there were four ancient pine-trees here which did not exceed six or seven feet in height, but whose branches spread themselves out for several yards, and we gladly cropped a few twigs to make a bed and to protect us from the frozen ground, still white from a fall of snow which took place in the afternoon. we were about to cut down one of these trees for firewood, but our guide solicited us to spare them, and made us understand by signs that they had been long serviceable to his nation, and that we ought to content ourselves with a few of the smaller branches. as soon as we comprehended his request we complied with it, and our attendants having, with some trouble, grubbed up a sufficient quantity of the roots of the dwarf birch to make a fire, we were enabled to prepare a comfortable supper of rein-deer's meat, which we despatched with the appetites which travelling in this country never fails to ensure. we then stretched ourselves out on the pine brush, and covered by a single blanket, enjoyed a night of sound repose. the small quantity of bed-clothes we carried induced us to sleep without undressing. old keskarrah followed a different plan; he stripped himself to the skin, and having toasted his body for a short time over the embers of the fire, he crept under his deer-skin and rags, previously spread out as smoothly as possible, and coiling himself up in a circular form, fell asleep instantly. this custom of undressing to the skin even when lying in the open air is common to all the indian tribes. the thermometer at sunset stood at 29°. resuming our journey next morning we pursued a northerly course, but had to make a considerable circuit round the western ends of two lakes whose eastern extremities were hidden from our view. the march was very uncomfortable as the wind was cold, and there was a constant fall of snow until noon; our guide too persisted in taking us over the summit of every hill that lay in the route, so that we had the full benefit of the breeze. we forded two streams in the afternoon flowing between small lakes, and being wet, did not much relish having to halt, whilst keskarrah pursued a herd of rein-deer; but there was no alternative, as he set off and followed them without consulting our wishes. the old man loaded himself with the skin, and some meat of the animal he killed, in addition to his former burden; but after walking two miles, finding his charge too heavy for his strength, he spread the skin on the rock, and deposited the meat under some stones, intending to pick them up on our return. we put up at sunset on the borders of a large lake, having come twelve miles. a few dwarf birches afforded us but a scanty fire, yet being sheltered from the wind by a sandy bank, we passed the night comfortably, though the temperature was 30°. a number of geese passed over us to the southward. we set off early next morning, and marched at a tolerably quick pace. the atmosphere was quite foggy, and our view was limited to a short distance. at noon, the sun shone forth for a few minutes, and the latitude 64° 57' 7" was observed. the small streams that we had hitherto crossed run uniformly to the southward. at the end of sixteen miles and a half we encamped amongst a few dwarf pines, and were much rejoiced at having a good fire, as the night was very stormy and cold. the thermometer fluctuated this day between 31° and 35°. though the following morning was foggy and rainy, we were not sorry to quit the cold and uncomfortable beds of rock upon which we had slept, and commence our journey at an early hour. after walking about three miles, we passed over a steep sandy ridge, and found the course of the rivulets running towards the north and north-west. our progress was slow in the early part of the morning, and we were detained for two hours on the summit of a hill exposed to a very cold wind, whilst our guide went in an unsuccessful pursuit of some rein-deer. after walking a few miles farther, the fog cleared away, and keskarrah pointed out the copper-mine river at a distance, and we pushed towards it with all the speed we could put forth. at noon we arrived at an arm of point lake, an extensive expansion of the river, and observed the latitude 65° 9' 06" n. we continued our walk along the south end of this arm for about a mile further, and then halted to breakfast amidst a cluster of pines. here the longitude, 112° 57' 25", was observed. after breakfast we set out and walked along the east-side of the arm towards the main body of the lake, leaving samandré to prepare an encampment amongst the pines against our return. we found the main channel deep, its banks high and rocky, and the valleys on its borders interspersed with clusters of spruce-trees. the latter circumstance was a source of much gratification to us. the temperature of its surface water was 41°, that of the air being 43°. having gained all the information we could collect from our guide and from personal observation, we retraced our steps to the encampment; and on the way back hepburn and keskarrah shot several waveys (_anas hyperborea_) which afforded us a seasonable supply, our stock of provision being nearly exhausted. these birds were feeding in large flocks on the crow-berries, which grew plentifully on the sides of the hills. we reached the encampment after dark, found a comfortable hut prepared for our reception, made an excellent supper, and slept soundly though it snowed hard the whole night. the hills in this neighbourhood are higher than those about fort enterprise; they stand, however, in the same detached manner, without forming connected ranges; and the bottom of every valley is occupied, either by a small lake or a stony marsh. on the borders of such of these lakes as communicate with the copper-mine river, there are a few groves of spruce-trees, generally growing on accumulations of sand, on the acclivities of the hills. we did not quit the encampment on the morning of september 13th until nine o'clock, in consequence of a constant fall of snow; but at that hour we set out on our return to fort enterprise, and taking a route somewhat different from the one by which we came, kept to the eastward of a chain of lakes. soon after noon the weather became extremely disagreeable; a cold northerly gale came on, attended by snow and sleet; and the temperature fell very soon from 43° to 34°. the waveys, alarmed at the sudden change, flew over our heads in great numbers to a milder climate. we walked as quickly as possible to get to a place that would furnish some fuel and shelter; but the fog occasioned us to make frequent halts, from the inability of our guide to trace his way. at length we came to a spot which afforded us plenty of dwarf birches, but they were so much frozen, and the snow fell so thick, that upwards of two hours were wasted in endeavouring to make a fire; during which time our clothes were freezing upon us. at length our efforts were crowned with success, and after a good supper, we laid, or rather sat down to sleep; for the nature of the ground obliged us to pass the night in a demi-erect position, with our backs against a bank of earth. the thermometer was 16° at six p.m. after enjoying a more comfortable night's rest than we had expected, we set off at day-break: the thermometer then standing at 18°. the ground was covered with snow, the small lakes were frozen, and the whole scene had a wintry appearance. we got on but slowly at first, owing to an old sprained ancle, which had been very troublesome to me for the last three days, and was this morning excessively painful. in fording a rivulet, however, the application of cold water gave me immediate relief, and i walked with ease the remainder of the day. in the afternoon we rejoined our track outwards and came to the place where keskarrah had made his deposit of provision, which proved a very acceptable supply, as our stock was exhausted. we then crossed some sand hills, and encamped amidst a few small pines, having walked thirteen miles. the comfort of a good fire made us soon insensible to the fatigue we had experienced through the day, in marching over the rugged stones, whose surface was rendered slippery by the frost. the thermometer at seven p.m. stood at 27°. we set off at sunrise next morning, and our provision being expended pushed on as fast as we could to fort enterprise, where we arrived at eight p.m., almost exhausted by a harassing day's march of twenty-two miles. a substantial supper of rein-deer steaks soon restored our vigour. we had the happiness of meeting our friends mr. back and mr. hood, who had returned from their excursion on the day succeeding that on which we set out; and i received from them the following account of their journey. they proceeded up the winter river to the north end of the little marten lake, and then the guide, being unacquainted with the route by water to the copper-mine river, proposed that the canoe should be left. upon this they ascended the loftiest hill in the neighbourhood, to examine whether they could discover any large lakes, or water communication in the direction where the guide described the river to be. they only saw a small rivulet, which was too shallow for the canoe, and also wide of the course; and as they perceived the crew would have to carry it over a rugged hilly track, they judiciously decided on leaving it, and proceeding forward on foot. having deposited the canoe among a few dwarf birch bushes, they commenced their march, carrying their tents, blankets, cooking utensils, and a part of the dried meat. st. germain, however, had previously delineated with charcoal, a man and a house on a piece of bark, which he placed over the canoe and the few things that were left, to point out to the dog-ribs that they belonged to white people. the party reached the shores of point lake, through which the copper-mine river runs, on the 1st of september. the next day was too stormy for them to march, but on the 3d, they proceeded along its shores to the westward, round a mountainous promontory, and perceiving the course of the lake extending to the w.n.w., they encamped near some pines, and then enjoyed the luxury of a good fire, for the first time since their departure from us. the temperature of the water in the lake was 35°, and of the air 32°, but the latter fell to 20° in the course of that night. as their principal object was to ascertain whether any arm of the lake branched nearer to fort enterprise than the part they had fallen upon, to which the transport of our goods could be more easily made next spring, they returned on its borders to the eastward, being satisfied, by the appearance of the mountains between south and west, that no further examination was necessary in that direction; and they continued their march until the 6th at noon, without finding any part of the lake inclining nearer the fort. they therefore encamped to observe the eclipse, which was to take place on the following morning; but a violent snow storm rendering the observation impossible, they commenced their return, and after a comfortless and laborious march regained their canoe on the 10th, and embarking in it, arrived the same evening at the house. point lake varied, as far as they traced, from one to three miles in width. its main course was nearly east and west, but several arms branched off in different directions. i was much pleased with the able manner in which these officers executed the service they had been despatched upon, and was gratified to learn from them, that their companions had conducted themselves extremely well, and borne the fatigues of their journey most cheerfully. they scarcely ever had more than sufficient fuel to boil the kettle; and were generally obliged to lie down in their wet clothes, and consequently, suffered much from cold. the distance which the parties travelled, in their journey to and from point lake, may be estimated at one hundred and ten statute miles, which being added to the distances given in the preceding pages, amount to one thousand five hundred and twenty miles that the expedition travelled in 1820, up to the time of its residence at fort enterprise. end of vol. i. * * * * * transcriber's corrections and comments: 1. original had a superfluous "c" in the year of publication ("mdccccxxiv"); corrected to "mdcccxxiv" (1824). 2. "holy lake" is inconsistent with the three occurrences in the text, which are all spelled "holey lake"; same in chapter sub-header. 3. added "à" missing in original in "isle à la crosse". 4. symbol for seconds in original misprinted (56',); corrected to quotation mark (56"). 5. original used comma instead of decimal point; corrected to "39.5°". 6. original had "were"; corrected to "where". 7. original had "sienite"; changed to "syenite". 8. original had "come"; corrected to "came". 9. original had "tress"; corrected to "trees". 10. original had "cosequence"; corrected to "consequence". 11. original had "o"; corrected to "of". 12. original had comma after 83° 14' 22"; corrected to period. 13. original had "th weeather"; corrected to "the weather". 14. original had "dependant"; changed to "dependent". 15. original had "copper-mine"; changed to "copper-mine" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 16. "mississippi" is most likely a misprint for "missinippi", i.e. churchill river. 17. original had "mckenzie's"; changed to "mackenzie's" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 18. original had "dependant"; changed to "dependent". 19. original had "agreeble"; corrected to "agreeable". 20. original had "oxycocoos"; corrected to "oxycoccos". 21. original had "scarely"; corrected to "scarcely". 22. original had "sufficent"; corrected to "sufficient". 23. original had "notwithanding"; corrected to "notwithstanding". 24. original had comma after "showers"; corrected to period. 25. original had "intractible"; corrected to "intractable". 26. "assinéboine" is given as "asseenaboine" elsewhere in the text. 27. original had "of"; corrected to "off". 28. original had "thuogh"; corrected to "though". 29. original had "effrontry"; corrected to "effrontery". 30. original had "dranked"; corrected to "drank". 31. original had "o"; corrected to "of". 32. original had "excution"; corrected to "execution". 33. original had "suprise"; corrected to "surprise". 34. deleted superfluous period after "cyprès". 35. "w." in the variation reading is most likely a misprint for "e."; compare previous and next readings. 36. original had "traveling"; corrected to "travelling". 37. original had "copper-mine"; changed to "copper-mine" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 38. original had "copper-mine"; changed to "copper-mine" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 39. original had "bow-men and steers-men"; changed to "bowmen and steersmen" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 40. original had "mammawee"; changed to "mamma-wee" to be consistent with previous occurrence. 41. the name of the fish "attihhawmegh" is spelled "attihhawmeg" elsewhere. 42. original reference was to page 92, which contains nothing about fish or fishing; changed to "143-4", where references to fishing can be found. 43. original had "occasionly"; changed to "occasionally". 44. original had "it"; corrected to "in". 45. added period missing in original after "winter". 46. "conolly" is a possible misprint for "connolly" (as found earlier in the text). 47. "conolly" is a possible misprint for "connolly". 48. original had "riviére"; corrected to "rivière". 49. original had comma after "fish"; corrected to period. 50. "echiamamis" is probably the same as "echemamis" above. 51. "n." is most likely a misprint for "e.", as magnetic variation of the compass can only be east or west. 52. "mccleod" is a possible misprint for "mcleod", as it appears earlier in the text. 53. original had "or"; corrected to "of". 54. "thlouee-tessy" is probably the same as "thloueea-tessy" above. 55. original had "today"; changed to "to-day" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 56. original had "varition"; changed to "variation". 57. original had "copper-mine-river"; changed to "copper-mine river". 58. "s." in the latitude reading is very unlikely; almost certainly a misprint for "n." file was produced from images generously made available by the canadian institute for historical microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) transcriber's notes: there are several inconsistencies in spelling and punctuation in the original. some corrections have been made for obvious typographical errors; they have been noted individually in the text. all changes made by the transcriber are enumerated in braces, for example {1}; details of corrections and comments are listed at the end of the text. note that many of the errors were introduced in the third edition, as cross-referencing the second edition has shown. in the original, the "mc" in scottish names is given as "m" followed by what looks like a left single quotation mark (unicode 2018). this has been changed to "mc" throughout the text. specific spellings that differ from their modern versions and have been retained in this text are "saskatchawan" (modern "saskatchewan"), "esquimaux" (modern "eskimo") and "musquito" (modern "mosquito"). text in italics in the original is shown between _underlines_. for this text version, the oe-ligature (unicode 0153) has been rendered as "oe". footnote 3 in chapter viii contains several instances of [·0] as a transliteration of the symbol for "sun" (unicode 2609). * * * * * narrative of a journey to the shores of the polar sea, in the years 1819-20-21-22. by john franklin, capt. r.n., f.r.s., m.w.s., and commander of the expedition. published by authority of the right honourable the earl bathurst. third edition. two vols.--vol. ii. london: john murray, albemarle-street. mdcccxxiv. london: printed by william clowes, northumberland-court. contents of the second volume. chapter viii. page transactions at fort enterprise--mr. back's narrative of his journey to chipewyan, and return 1 chapter ix. continuation of proceedings at fort enterprise--some account of the copper indians--preparations for the journey to the northward 76 chapter x. departure from fort enterprise--navigation of the copper-mine river--visit to the copper mountain--interview with the esquimaux--departure of the indian hunters--arrangements made with them for our return 122 chapter xi. navigation of the polar sea, in two canoes, as far as cape turnagain, to the eastward, a distance exceeding five hundred and fifty miles--observations on the probability of a north-west passage 193 chapter xii. journey across the barren grounds--difficulty and delay in crossing copper-mine river--melancholy and fatal results thereof--extreme misery of the whole party--murder of mr. hood--death of several of the canadians--desolate state of fort enterprise--distress suffered at that place--dr. richardson's narrative--mr. back's narrative--conclusion 237 journey to the shores of the polar sea. * * * * * chapter viii. transactions at fort enterprise--mr. back's narrative of his journey to chipewyan and return. 1820. september. during our little expedition to the copper-mine river, mr. wentzel had made great progress in the erection of our winter-house, having nearly roofed it in. but before proceeding to give an account of a ten months' residence at this place, henceforth designated fort enterprise, i may premise, that i shall omit many of the ordinary occurrences of a north american winter, as they have been already detailed in so able and interesting a manner by ellis[1], and confine myself principally to the circumstances which had an influence on our progress in the ensuing summer. the observations on the magnetic needle, the temperature of the atmosphere, the aurora borealis, and other meteorological phenomena, together with the mineralogical and botanical notices, being less interesting to the general reader, are omitted in this edition. [1] voyage to hudson's bay in the dobbs and california. the men continued to work diligently at the house, and by the 30th of september had nearly completed it for our reception, when a heavy fall of rain washed the greater part of the mud off the roof. this rain was remarked by the indians as unusual, after what they had deemed so decided a commencement of winter in the early part of the month. the mean temperature for the month was 33-3/4°, but the thermometer had sunk as low as 16°, and on one occasion rose to 53°. besides the party constantly employed at the house, two men were appointed to fish, and others were occasionally sent for meat, as the hunters procured it. this latter employment, although extremely laborious, was always relished by the canadians, as they never failed to use a prescriptive right of helping themselves to the fattest and most delicate parts of the deer. towards the end of the month, the rein-deer began to quit the barren grounds, and came into the vicinity of the house, on their way to the woods; and the success of the hunters being consequently great, the necessity of sending for the meat considerably retarded the building of the house. in the mean time we resided in our canvas tents, which proved very cold habitations, although we maintained a fire in front of them, and also endeavoured to protect ourselves from the piercing winds by a barricade of pine branches. on the 6th of october, the house being completed, we struck our tents, and removed into it. it was merely a log-building, fifty feet long, and twenty-four wide, divided into a hall, three bed rooms and a kitchen. the walls and roof were plastered with clay, the floors laid with planks rudely squared with the hatchet, and the windows closed with parchment of deer-skin. the clay, which from the coldness of the weather, required to be tempered before the fire with hot water, froze as it was daubed on, and afterwards cracked in such a manner as to admit the wind from every quarter; yet, compared with the tents, our new habitation appeared comfortable; and having filled our capacious clay-built chimney with fagots, we spent a cheerful evening before the invigorating blaze. the change was peculiarly beneficial to dr. richardson, who, having, in one of his excursions, incautiously laid down on the frozen side of a hill when heated with walking, had caught a severe inflammatory sore throat, which became daily worse whilst we remained in the tents, but began to mend soon after he was enabled to confine himself to the more equable warmth of the house. we took up our abode at first on the floor, but our working party, who had shown such skill as house carpenters, soon proved themselves to be, with the same tools, (the hatchet and crooked knife,) excellent cabinet makers, and daily added a table, chair, or bedstead, to the comforts of our establishment. the crooked knife generally made of an old file, bent and tempered by heat, serves an indian or canadian voyager for plane, chisel, and auger. with it the snow-shoe and canoe-timbers are fashioned, the deals of their sledges reduced to the requisite thinness and polish, and their wooden bowls and spoons hollowed out. indeed, though not quite so requisite for existence as the hatchet, yet without its aid there would be little comfort in these wilds. on the 7th we were gratified by a sight of the sun, after it had been obscured for twelve days. on this and several following days the meridian sun melted the light covering of snow or hoar frost on the lichens, which clothe the barren grounds, and rendered them so tender as to attract great herds of rein-deer to our neighbourhood. on the morning of the 10th i estimated the numbers i saw during a short walk, at upwards of two thousand. they form into herds of different sizes, from ten to a hundred, according as their fears or accident induce them to unite or separate. the females being at this time more lean and active, usually lead the van. the haunches of the males are now covered to the depth of two inches or more with fat, which is beginning to get red and high flavoured, and is considered a sure indication of the commencement of the rutting season. their horns, which in the middle of august were yet tender, have now attained their proper size, and are beginning to lose their hairy covering which hangs from them in ragged filaments. the horns of the rein-deer vary, not only with its sex and age, but are otherwise so uncertain in their growth, that they are never alike in any two individuals. the old males shed their's about the end of december; the females retain them until the disappearance of the snow enables them to frequent the barren grounds, which may be stated to be about the middle or end of may, soon after which period they proceed towards the sea-coast and drop their young. the young males lose their horns about the same time with the females or a little earlier, some of them as early as april. the hair of the rein-deer falls in july, and is succeeded by a short thick coat of mingled clove, deep reddish, and yellowish browns; the belly and under parts of the neck, _&c._, remaining white. as the winter approaches the hair becomes longer, and lighter in its colours, and it begins to loosen in may, being then much worn on the sides, from the animal rubbing itself against trees and stones. it becomes grayish and almost white, before it is completely shed. the indians form their robes of the skins procured in autumn, when the hair is short. towards the spring the larvæ of the oestrus attaining a large size, produce so many perforations in the skins, that they are good for nothing. the cicatrices only of these holes are to be seen in august, but a fresh set of _ova_ have in the mean time been deposited[2]. [2] "it is worthy of remark, that in the month of may a very great number of large larvæ exist under the mucous membrane at the root of the tongue, and posterior part of the nares and pharynx. the indians consider them to belong to the same species with the oestrus, that deposits its ova under the skin: to us the larvæ of the former appeared more flattened than those of the latter. specimens of both kinds, preserved in spirits, were destroyed by the frequent falls they received on the portages."--dr. richardson's _journal_. the rein-deer retire from the sea-coast in july and august, rut in october on the verge of the barren grounds, and shelter themselves in the woods during the winter. they are often induced by a few fine days in winter, to pay a transitory visit to their favourite pastures in the barren country, but their principal movement to the northward commences generally in the end of april, when the snow first begins to melt on the sides of the hills, and early in may, when large patches of the ground are visible, they are on the banks of the copper-mine river. the females take the lead in this spring migration, and bring forth their young on the sea-coast about the end of may or beginning of june. there are certain spots or passes well known to the indians, through which the deer invariably pass in their migrations to and from the coast, and it has been observed that they always travel against the wind. the principal food of the rein-deer in the barren grounds, consists of the _cetraria nivalis_ and _cucullata_, _cenomyce rangiferina_, _cornicularia ochrileuca_, and other lichens, and they also eat the hay or dry grass which is found in the swamps in autumn. in the woods they feed on the different lichens which hang from the trees. they are accustomed to gnaw their fallen antlers, and are said also to devour mice. the weight of a full grown barren-ground deer, exclusive of the offal, varies from ninety to one hundred and thirty pounds. there is, however, a much larger kind found in the woody parts of the country, whose carcase weighs from two hundred to two hundred and forty pounds. this kind never leaves the woods, but its skin is as much perforated by the gad-fly as that of the others; a presumptive proof that the smaller species are not driven to the sea-coast solely by the attacks of that insect. there are a few rein-deer occasionally killed in the spring, whose skins are entire, and these are always fat, whereas the others are lean at that season. this insect likewise infests the red-deer (_wawaskeesh_,) but its ova are not found in the skin of the moose, or buffalo, nor, as we have been informed, of the sheep and goat that inhabit the rocky mountains, although the rein-deer found in those parts, (which are of an unusually large kind,) are as much tormented by them as the barren-ground variety. the herds of rein-deer are attended in their migrations by bands of wolves, which destroy a great many of them. the copper indians kill the rein-deer in the summer with the gun, or taking advantage of a favourable disposition of the ground, they enclose a herd upon a neck of land, and drive them into a lake, where they fall an easy prey; but in the rutting season and in the spring, when they are numerous on the skirts of the woods, they catch them in snares. the snares are simple nooses, formed in a rope made of twisted sinew, which are placed in the aperture of a slight hedge, constructed of the branches of trees. this hedge is so disposed as to form several winding compartments, and although it is by no means strong, yet the deer seldom attempt to break through it. the herd is led into the labyrinth by two converging rows of poles, and one is generally caught at each of the openings by the noose placed there. the hunter, too, lying in ambush, stabs some of them with his bayonet as they pass by, and the whole herd frequently becomes his prey. where wood is scarce, a piece of turf turned up answers the purpose of a pole to conduct them towards the snares. the rein-deer has a quick eye, but the hunter by keeping to leeward and using a little caution, may approach very near; their apprehensions being much more easily roused by the smell than the sight of any unusual object. indeed their curiosity often causes them to come close up and wheel around the hunter; thus affording him a good opportunity of singling out the fattest of the herd, and upon these occasions they often become so confused by the shouts and gestures of their enemy, that they run backwards and forwards with great rapidity, but without the power of making their escape. the copper indians find by experience that a white dress attracts them most readily, and they often succeed in bringing them within shot, by kneeling and vibrating the gun from side to side, in imitation of the motion of a deer's horns when he is in the act of rubbing his head against a stone. the dog-rib indians have a mode of killing these animals, which though simple, is very successful. it was thus described by mr. wentzel, who resided long amongst that people. the hunters go in pairs, the foremost man carrying in one hand the horns and part of the skin of the head of a deer, and in the other a small bundle of twigs, against which he, from time to time, rubs the horns, imitating the gestures peculiar to the animal. his comrade follows treading exactly in his footsteps, and holding the guns of both in a horizontal position, so that the muzzles project under the arms of him who carries the head. both hunters have a fillet of white skin round their foreheads, and the foremost has a strip of the same kind round his wrists. they approach the herd by degrees, raising their legs very slowly, but setting them down somewhat suddenly, after the manner of a deer, and always taking care to lift their right or left feet simultaneously. if any of the herd leave off feeding to gaze upon this extraordinary phenomenon, it instantly stops, and the head begins to play its part by licking its shoulders, and performing other necessary movements. in this way the hunters attain the very centre of the herd without exciting suspicion, and have leisure to single out the fattest. the hindmost man then pushes forward his comrade's gun, the head is dropt, and they both fire nearly at the same instant. the herd scampers off, the hunters trot after them; in a short time the poor animals halt to ascertain the cause of their terror, their foes stop at the same instant, and having loaded as they ran, greet the gazers with a second fatal discharge. the consternation of the deer increases, they run to and fro in the utmost confusion, and sometimes a great part of the herd is destroyed within the space of a few hundred yards. a party who had been sent to akaitcho returned, bringing three hundred and seventy pounds of dried meat, and two hundred and twenty pounds of suet, together with the unpleasant information, that a still larger quantity of the latter article had been found and carried off, as he supposed, by some dog-ribs, who had passed that way. the weather becoming daily colder, all the lakes in the neighbourhood of the house were completely, and the river partially, frozen over by the middle of the month. the rein-deer now began to quit us for more southerly and better-sheltered pastures. indeed, their longer residence in our neighbourhood would have been of little service to us, for our ammunition was almost completely expended, though we had dealt it of late with a very sparing hand to the indians. we had, however, already secured in the store-house the carcases of one hundred deer, together with one thousand pounds of suet, and some dried meat; and had, moreover, eighty deer stowed up at various distances from the house. the necessity of employing the men to build a house for themselves, before the weather became too severe, obliged us to put the latter _en cache_, as the voyagers term it, instead of adopting the more safe plan of bringing them to the house. putting a deer _en cache_, means merely protecting it against the wolves, and still more destructive wolverenes, by heavy loads of wood or stones; the latter animal, however, sometimes digs underneath the pile, and renders the precaution abortive. on the 18th, mr. back and mr. wentzel set out for fort providence, accompanied by beauparlant, belanger, and two indians, akaiyazza and thoolezzeh, with their wives, the little forehead, and the smiling marten. mr. back had volunteered to go and make the necessary arrangements for transporting the stores we expected from cumberland house, and to endeavour to obtain some additional supplies from the establishments at slave lake. if any accident should have prevented the arrival of our stores, and the establishments at moose-deer island should be unable to supply the deficiency, he was, if he found himself equal to the task, to proceed to chipewyan. ammunition was essential to our existence, and a considerable supply of tobacco was also requisite, not only for the comfort of the canadians, who use it largely, and had stipulated for it in their engagements, but also as a means of preserving the friendship of the indians. blankets, cloth, and iron-work, were scarcely less indispensible to equip our men for the advance next season. mr. wentzel accompanied mr. back, to assist him in obtaining from the traders, on the score of old friendship, that which they might be inclined to deny to our necessities. i forwarded by them letters to the colonial office and admiralty, detailing the proceedings of the expedition up to this period. on the 22d we were surprised by a visit from a dog; the poor animal was in low condition, and much fatigued. our indians discovered, by marks on his ears, that he belonged to the dog-ribs. this tribe, unlike the chipewyans and copper indians, had preserved that useful associate of man, although from their frequent intercourse with the latter people, they were not ignorant of the prediction alluded to in a former page. one of our interpreters was immediately despatched, with an indian, to endeavour to trace out the dog-ribs, whom he supposed might be concealed in the neighbourhood from their dread of the copper indians; although we had no doubt of their coming to us, were they aware of our being here. the interpreter, however, returned without having discovered any traces of strange indians; a circumstance which led us to conclude, that the dog had strayed from his masters a considerable time before. towards the end of the month the men completed their house, and took up their abode in it. it was thirty-four feet long and eighteen feet wide; was divided into two apartments, and was placed at right angles to the officers' dwelling, and facing the store-house: the three buildings forming three sides of a quadrangle. on the 26th akaitcho and his party arrived, the hunting in this neighbourhood being terminated for the season, by the deer having retired southward to the shelter of the woods. the arrival of this large party was a serious inconvenience to us, from our being compelled to issue them daily rates of provision from the store. the want of ammunition prevented us from equipping and sending them to the woods to hunt; and although they are accustomed to subsist themselves for a considerable part of the year by fishing, or snaring the deer, without having recourse to fire-arms, yet, on the present occasion, they felt little inclined to do so, and gave scope to their natural love of ease, as long as our store-house seemed to be well stocked. nevertheless, as they were conscious of impairing our future resources, they did not fail, occasionally, to remind us that it was not their fault, to express an ardent desire to go hunting, and to request a supply of ammunition, although they knew that it was not in our power to give it. the summer birds by this time had entirely deserted us, leaving, for our winter companions, the raven, cinereous crow, ptarmigan, and snow-bird. the last of the water-fowl that quitted us was a species of diver, of the same size with the _colymbus arcticus_, but differing from it in the arrangement of the white spots on its plumage, and in having a yellowish white bill. this bird was occasionally caught in our fishing nets. the thermometer during the month of october, at fort enterprise, never rose above 37°, or fell below 5°; the mean temperature for the month was 23°. in the beginning of october a party had been sent to the westward to search for birch to make snow-shoe frames, and the indian women were afterwards employed in netting the shoes and preparing leather for winter-clothing to the men. robes of rein-deer skins were also obtained from the indians, and issued to the men who were to travel, as they are not only a great deal lighter than blankets, but also much warmer, and altogether better adapted for a winter in this climate. they are, however, unfit for summer use, as the least moisture causes the skin to spoil, and lose its hair. it requires the skins of seven deer to make one robe. the finest are made of the skins of young fawns. the fishing, having failed as the weather became more severe, was given up on the 5th. it had procured us about one thousand two hundred _white fish_, from two to three pounds each. there are two other species of _coregoni_ in winter lake, _back's grayling_ and the _round fish_; and a few _trout_, _pike_, _methye_, and _red carp_, were also occasionally obtained from the nets. it may be worthy of notice here, that the fish froze as they were taken out of the nets, in a short time became a solid mass of ice, and by a blow or two of the hatchet were easily split open, when the intestines might be removed in one lump. if in this completely frozen state they were thawed before the fire, they recovered their animation. this was particularly the case with the carp, and we had occasion to observe it repeatedly, as dr. richardson occupied himself in examining the structure of the different species of fish, and was, always in the winter, under the necessity of thawing them before he could cut them. we have seen a carp recover so far as to leap about with much vigour, after it had been frozen for thirty-six hours. from the 12th to the 16th we had fine, and for the season, warm weather; and the deer, which had not been seen since the 26th of october, reappeared in the neighbourhood of the house, to the surprise of the indians, who attributed their return to the barren grounds to the unusual mildness of the season. on this occasion, by melting some of our pewter cups, we managed to furnish five balls to each of the hunters, but they were all expended unsuccessfully, except by akaitcho, who killed two deer. by the middle of the month winter river was firmly frozen over, except the small rapid at its commencement, which remained open all the winter. the ice on the lake was now nearly two feet thick. after the 16th we had a succession of cold, snowy, and windy weather. we had become anxious to hear of the arrival of mr. back and his party at fort providence. the indians, who had calculated the period at which a messenger ought to have returned from thence to be already passed, became impatient when it had elapsed, and with their usual love of evil augury tormented us by their melancholy forebodings. at one time they conjectured that the whole party had fallen through{1} the ice; at another, that they had been way-laid and cut off by the dog-ribs. in vain did we urge the improbability of the former accident, or the peaceable character of the dog-ribs, so little in conformity with the latter. "the ice at this season was deceitful," they said, "and the dog-ribs, though unwarlike, were treacherous." these assertions, so often repeated, had some effect upon the spirits of our canadian voyagers, who seldom weigh any opinion they adopt; but we persisted in treating their fears as chimerical, for had we seemed to listen to them for a moment, it is more than probable that the whole of our indians would have gone to fort providence in search of supplies, and we should have found it extremely difficult to have recovered them. the matter was put to rest by the appearance of belanger on the morning of the 23d, and the indians, now running into the opposite extreme, were disposed to give us more credit for our judgment than we deserved. they had had a tedious and fatiguing journey to fort providence, and for some days were destitute of provisions. belanger arrived alone; he had walked constantly for the last six-and-thirty hours, leaving his indian companions encamped at the last woods, they being unwilling to accompany him across the barren grounds during the storm that had prevailed for several days, and blew with unusual violence on the morning of his arrival. his locks were matted with snow, and he was incrusted with ice from head to foot, so that we scarcely recognised him when he burst in upon us. we welcomed him with the usual shake of the hand, but were unable to give him the glass of rum which every voyager receives on his arrival at a trading post. as soon as his packet was thawed, we eagerly opened it to obtain our english letters. the latest were dated on the preceding april. they came by way of canada, and were brought up in september to slave lake by the north-west company's canoes. we were not so fortunate with regard to our stores; of ten pieces, or bales of 90lbs. weight, which had been sent from york factory by governor williams, five of the most essential had been left at the grand rapid on the saskatchawan, owing, as far as we could judge from the accounts that reached us, to the misconduct of the officer to whom they were intrusted, and who was ordered to convey them to cumberland-house. being overtaken by some of the north-west company's canoes, he had insisted on their taking half of his charge as it was intended for the service of government. the north-west gentlemen objected, that their canoes had already got a cargo in, and that they had been requested to convey our stores from cumberland house only, where they had a canoe waiting for the purpose. the hudson's-bay officer upon this deposited our ammunition and tobacco upon the beach, and departed without any regard to the serious consequences that might result to us from the want of them. the indians, who assembled at the opening of the packet, and sat in silence watching our countenances, were necessarily made acquainted with the non-arrival of our stores, and bore the intelligence with unexpected tranquillity. we took care, however, in our communications with them to dwell upon the more agreeable parts of our intelligence, and they seemed to receive particular pleasure on being informed of the arrival of two esquimaux interpreters at slave lake, on their way to join the party. the circumstance not only quieted their fears of opposition from the esquimaux on our descent to the sea next season, but also afforded a substantial proof of our influence in being able to bring two people of that nation from such a distance. akaitcho, who is a man of great penetration and shrewdness, duly appreciated these circumstances; indeed he has often surprised us by his correct judgment of the character of individuals amongst the traders or of our own party, although his knowledge of their opinions was, in most instances, obtained through the imperfect medium of interpretation. he was an attentive observer, however, of every action, and steadily compared their conduct with their pretensions. by the newspapers we learned the demise of our revered and lamented sovereign george iii., and the proclamation of george iv. we concealed this intelligence from the indians, lest the death of their great father might lead them to suppose that we should be unable to fulfil our promises to them. the indians who had left fort providence with belanger arrived the day after him, and, amongst other intelligence, informed akaitcho of some reports they had heard to our disadvantage. they stated that mr. weeks, the gentleman in charge of fort providence, had told them, that so far from our being what we represented ourselves to be, the officers of a great king, we were merely a set of dependant wretches, whose only aim was to obtain subsistence for a season in the plentiful country of the copper indians; that, out of charity we had been supplied with a portion of goods by the trading companies, but that there was not the smallest probability of our being able to reward the indians when their term of service was completed. akaitcho, with great good sense, instantly came to have the matter explained, stating at the same time, that he could not credit it. i then pointed out to him that mr. wentzel, with whom they had long been accustomed to trade, had pledged the credit of his company for the stipulated rewards to the party that accompanied us, and that the trading debts due by akaitcho, and his party had already been remitted, which was of itself a sufficient proof of our influence with the north-west company. i also reminded akaitcho, that our having caused the esquimaux to be brought up at a great expense, was evidence of our future intentions, and informed him that i should write to mr. smith, the senior trader in the department, on the subject, when i had no doubt that a satisfactory explanation would be given. the indians retired from the conference apparently satisfied, but this business was in the end productive of much inconvenience to us, and proved very detrimental to the progress of the expedition. in conjunction also with other intelligence conveyed in mr. back's letters respecting the disposition of the traders towards us, particularly a statement of mr. weeks, that he had been desired not to assist us with supplies from his post, it was productive of much present uneasiness to me. on the 28th st. germain, the interpreter, set out with eight canadian voyagers and four indian hunters to bring up our stores from fort providence. i wrote by him to mr. smith, at moose-deer island, and mr. keith, at chipewyan, both of the north-west company, urging them in the strongest manner to comply with the requisition for stores, which mr. back would present. i also informed mr. simpson, principal agent in the athabasca for the hudson's bay company, who had proffered every assistance in his power, that we should gladly avail ourselves of the kind intentions expressed in a letter which i had received from him. we also sent a number of broken axes to slave lake to be repaired. the dog that came to us on the 22d of october, and had become very familiar, followed the party. we were in hopes that it might prove of some use in dragging their loads, but we afterwards learned, that on the evening after their departure from the house, they had the cruelty to kill and eat it, although they had no reason to apprehend a scarcity of provision. a dog is considered to be delicate eating by the voyagers. the mean temperature of the air for november was -0°.7. the greatest heat observed was 25° above, and the least 31° below, zero. on the 1st of december the sky was clear, a slight appearance of stratus only being visible near the horizon; but a kind of snow fell at intervals in the forenoon, its particles so minute as to be observed only in the sunshine. towards noon the snow became more apparent, and the two limbs of a prismatic arch were visible, one on each side of the sun near its place in the heavens, the centre being deficient. we have frequently observed this descent of minute icy spiculæ when the sky appears perfectly clear, and could even perceive that its silent but continued action, added to the snowy covering of the ground. having received one hundred balls from fort providence by belanger, we distributed them amongst the indians, informing the leader at the same time, that the residence of so large a party as his at the house, amounting, with women and children, to forty souls, was producing a serious reduction in our stock of provision. he acknowledged the justice of the statement, and promised to remove as soon as his party had prepared snow-shoes and sledges for themselves. under one pretext or other, however, their departure was delayed until the 10th of the month, when they left us, having previously received one of our fishing-nets, and all the ammunition we possessed. the leader left his aged mother and two female attendants to our care, requesting that if she died during his absence, she might be buried at a distance from the fort, that he might not be reminded of his loss when he visited us. keskarrah, the guide, also remained behind, with his wife and daughter. the old man has become too feeble to hunt, and his time is almost entirely occupied in attendance upon his wife, who has been long affected with an ulcer on the face, which has nearly destroyed her nose. lately he made an offering to the water spirits, whose wrath he apprehended to be the cause of her malady. it consisted of a knife, a piece of tobacco, and some other trifling articles, which were tied up in a small bundle, and committed to the rapid with a long prayer. he does not trust entirely, however, to the relenting of the spirits for his wife's cure, but comes daily to dr. richardson for medicine. upon one occasion he received the medicine from the doctor with such formality, and wrapped it up in his rein-deer robe with such extraordinary carefulness, that it excited the involuntary laughter of mr. hood and myself. the old man smiled in his turn, and as he always seemed proud of the familiar way in which we were accustomed to joke with him, we thought no more upon the subject. but he unfortunately mentioned the circumstance to his wife, who imagined in consequence, that the drug was not productive of its usual good effects, and they immediately came to the conclusion that some bad medicine had been intentionally given to them. the distress produced by this idea, was in proportion to their former faith in the potency of the remedy, and the night was spent in singing and groaning. next morning the whole family were crying in concert, and it was not until the evening of the second day that we succeeded in pacifying them. the old woman began to feel better, and her faith in the medicine was renewed. while speaking of this family, i may remark that the daughter, whom we designated green-stockings from her dress, is considered by her tribe to be a great beauty. mr. hood drew an accurate portrait of her, although her mother was averse to her sitting for it. she was afraid, she said, that her daughter's likeness would induce the great chief who resided in england to send for the original. the young lady, however, was undeterred by any such fear. she has already been an object of contest between her countrymen, and although under sixteen years of age, has belonged successively to two husbands, and would probably have been the wife of many more, if her mother had not required her services as a nurse. the weather during this month, was the coldest we experienced during our residence in america. the thermometer sunk on one occasion to 57° below zero, and never rose beyond 6° above it; the mean for the month was -29°.7. during these intense colds, however, the atmosphere was generally calm, and the wood-cutters and others went about their ordinary occupations without using any extraordinary precautions, yet without feeling any bad effects. they had their rein-deer shirts on, leathern mittens lined with blankets, and furred caps; but none of them used any defence for the face, or needed any. indeed we have already mentioned that the heat is abstracted most rapidly from the body during strong breezes, and most of those who have perished from cold in this country, have fallen a sacrifice to their being overtaken on a lake or other unsheltered place, by a storm of wind. the intense colds, were, however, detrimental to us in another way. the trees froze to their very centres and became as hard as stones, and more difficult to cut. some of the axes were broken daily, and by the end of the month we had only one left that was fit for felling trees. by intrusting it only to one of the party who had been bred a carpenter, and who could use it with dexterity, it was fortunately preserved until the arrival of our men with others from fort providence. a thermometer, hung in our bed-room at the distance of sixteen feet from the fire, but exposed to its direct radiation, stood even in the day-time occasionally at 15° below zero, and was observed more than once previous to the kindling of the fire in the morning, to be as low as 40° below zero. on two of these occasions the chronometers 2149 and 2151, which during the night lay under mr. hood's and dr. richardson's pillows, stopped while they were dressing themselves. the rapid at the commencement of the river remained open in the severest weather, although it was somewhat contracted in width. its temperature was 32°, as was the surface of the river opposite the house, about a quarter of a mile lower down, tried at a hole in the ice, through which water was drawn for domestic purposes. the river here was two fathoms and a half deep, and the temperature at its bottom was at least 42° above zero. this fact was ascertained by a spirit thermometer; in which, probably, from some irregularity in the tube, a small portion of the coloured liquor usually remained at 42° when the column was made to descend rapidly. in the present instance the thermometer standing at 47° below zero, with no portion of the fluid in the upper part of the tube, was let down slowly into the water, but drawn cautiously and rapidly up again, when a red drop at +42° indicated that the fluid had risen to that point or above it. at this period the daily visits of the sun were very short, and owing to the obliquity of his rays, afforded us little warmth or light. it is half past eleven before he peeps over a small ridge of hills opposite to the house, and he sinks in the horizon at half past two. on the 28th mr. hood, in order to attain an approximation to the quantity of terrestrial refraction, observed the sun's meridian altitude when the thermometer stood at 46° below zero, at the imminent hazard of having his fingers frozen. he found the sextant had changed its error considerably, and that the glasses had lost their parallelism from the contraction of the brass. in measuring the error he perceived that the diameter of the sun's image was considerably short of twice the semi-diameter; a proof of the uncertainty of celestial observations made during these intense frosts. the results of this and another similar observation are given at the bottom of the page[3]. [3] "the observed meridian altitude of [·0] upper limb was 2° 52' 51". temperature of the air -45° 5'{2}. by comparing this altitude, corrected by the mean refraction and parallax, with that deduced from the latitude which was observed in autumn, the increase of refraction is found to be 6' 50", the whole refraction, therefore, for the altitude 2° 52' 51" is 21' 49". admitting that the refraction increases in the same ratio as that of the atmosphere at a mean state of temperature, the horizontal refraction will be 47' 22". but the diameter of the sun measured immediately after the observation, was only 27' 7", which shews an increase of refraction at the lower limb of 3' 29". the horizontal refraction calculated with this difference, and the above-mentioned ratio, is 56' 3", at the temperature -45° 5'. so that in the parallel 68° 42', where if there was no refraction, the sun would be invisible for thirty-four days, his upper limb, with the refraction 56' 3", is, in fact, above the horizon at every noon. the wind was from the westward a moderate breeze, and the air perfectly clear. january 1st, 1821. observed meridian altitude of [·0] lower limb 2° 35' 20". [·0] apparent diameter 29° 20'. for apparent altitude 2° 35' 20", the mean refraction is 16' 5" (mackay's tables), and the true, found as detailed above, is 20' 8": which increasing in the same ratio as that of the atmosphere, at a mean state of temperature, is 41' 19" at the horizon. but the difference of refraction at the upper and lower limbs, increasing also in that ratio, gives 55' 16" for the horizontal refraction. temperature of the air -41°. wind north, a light breeze, a large halo visible about the sun. january 15th, 1821.--observed an apparent meridian altitude [·0] lower limb 4° 24' 57". [·0] apparent diameter 31' 5". for apparent altitude 4° 24' 57", the mean refraction is 10' 58" (mackay's tables), and the true, found as detailed above, is 14' 39", which, increasing in the same ratio as that of the atmosphere at a mean state of temperature, is 43' 57" at the horizon. but the difference of refraction between the upper and lower limbs increasing also in that ratio, gives 48' 30" for the horizontal refraction. temperature of the air -35°, a light air from the westward, very clear. the extreme coldness of the weather rendered these operations difficult and dangerous; yet i think the observations may be depended upon within 30", as will appear by their approximate results in calculating the horizontal refraction; for it must be considered that an error of 30", in the refraction in altitude, would make a difference of several minutes in the horizontal refraction."--mr. hood's _journal_. the aurora appeared with more or less brilliancy on twenty-eight nights in this month, and we were also gratified by the resplendent beauty of the moon, which for many days together performed its circle round the heavens, shining with undiminished lustre, and scarcely disappearing below the horizon during the twenty-four hours. during many nights there was a halo round the moon, although the stars shone brightly, and the atmosphere appeared otherwise clear. the same phenomenon{3} was observed round the candles, even in our bed-rooms; the diameter of the halo increasing as the observer receded from the light. these halos, both round the moon and candles, occasionally exhibited faintly some of the prismatic colours. as it may be interesting to the reader to know how we passed our time at this season of the year, i shall mention briefly, that a considerable portion of it was occupied in writing up our journals. some newspapers and magazines, that we had received from england with our letters, were read again and again, and commented upon, at our meals; and we often exercised ourselves with conjecturing the changes that might take place in the world before we could hear from it again. the probability of our receiving letters, and the period of their arrival, were calculated to a nicety. we occasionally paid the woodmen a visit, or took a walk for a mile or two on the river. in the evenings we joined the men in the hall, and took a part in their games, which generally continued to a late hour; in short, we never found the time to hang heavy upon our hands; and the peculiar occupations of each of the officers afforded them more employment than might at first be supposed. i re-calculated the observations made on our route; mr. hood protracted the charts, and made those drawings of birds, plants, and fishes, which cannot appear in this work, but which have been the admiration of every one who has seen them. each of the party sedulously and separately recorded their observations on the aurora; and dr. richardson contrived to obtain from under the snow, specimens of most of the lichens in the neighbourhood, and to make himself acquainted with the mineralogy of the surrounding country. the sabbath was always a day of rest with us; the woodmen were required to provide for the exigencies of that day on saturday, and the party were dressed in their best attire. divine service was regularly performed, and the canadians attended, and behaved with great decorum, although they were all roman catholics, and but little acquainted with the language in which the prayers were read. i regretted much that we had not a french prayer-book, but the lord's prayer and creed were always read to them in their own language. our diet consisted almost entirely of rein-deer meat, varied twice a week by fish, and occasionally by a little flour, but we had no vegetables of any description. on the sunday mornings we drank a cup of chocolate, but our greatest luxury was tea (without sugar,) of which we regularly partook twice a-day. with rein-deer's fat, and strips of cotton shirts, we formed candles; and hepburn acquired considerable skill in the manufacture of soap, from the wood-ashes, fat, and salt. the formation of soap was considered as rather a mysterious operation by our canadians, and, in their hands, was always supposed to fail if a woman approached the kettle in which the ley{4} was boiling. such are our simple domestic details. on the 30th, two hunters came from the leader, to convey ammunition to him, as soon as our men should bring it from fort providence. the men, at this time, coated the walls of the house on the outside, with a thin mixture of clay and water, which formed a crust of ice, that, for some days, proved impervious to the air; the dryness of the atmosphere, however, was such, that the ice in a short time evaporated, and gave admission to the wind as before. it is a general custom at the forts to give this sort of coating to the walls at christmas time. when it was gone, we attempted to remedy its defect, by heaping up snow against the walls. 1821, january 1. this morning our men assembled, and greeted us with the customary salutation on the commencement of the new year. that they might enjoy a holiday{5}, they had yesterday collected double the usual quantity of fire-wood, and we anxiously expected the return of the men from fort providence, with some additions to their comforts. we had stronger hope of their arrival before the evening, as we knew that every voyager uses his utmost endeavour to reach a post upon, or previous to, the _jour de l'an_, that he may partake of the wonted festivities. it forms, as christmas is said to have done among our forefathers, the theme of their conversation for months before and after the period of its arrival. on the present occasion we could only treat them with a little flour and fat; these were both considered as great luxuries, but still the feast was defective from the want of rum, although we promised them a little when it should arrive. the early part of january proved mild, the thermometer rose to 20° above zero, and we were surprised by the appearance of a kind of damp fog approaching very nearly to rain. the indians expressed their astonishment at this circumstance, and declared the present to be one of the warmest winters they had ever experienced. some of them reported that it had actually rained in the woody parts of the country. in the latter part of the month, however, the thermometer again descended to -49°, and the mean temperature for the month proved to be -15°.6. owing to the fogs that obscured the sky the aurora was visible only upon eighteen nights in the month. on the 15th seven of our men arrived from fort providence with two kegs of rum, one barrel of powder, sixty pounds of ball, two rolls of tobacco, and some clothing. they had been twenty-one days on their march from slave lake, and the labour they underwent was sufficiently evinced by their sledge-collars having worn out the shoulders of their coats. their loads weighed from sixty to ninety pounds each, exclusive of their bedding and provisions, which at starting must have been at least as much more. we were much rejoiced at their arrival, and proceeded forthwith to pierce the spirit cask, and issue to each of the household the portion of rum which had been promised on the first day of the year. the spirits, which were proof, were frozen, but after standing at the fire for some time they flowed out of the consistency of honey. the temperature of the liquid, even in this state, was so low as instantly to convert into ice the moisture which condensed on the surface of the dram-glass. the fingers also adhered to the glass, and would, doubtless, have been speedily frozen had they been kept in contact with it; yet each of the voyagers swallowed his dram without experiencing the slightest inconvenience, or complaining of tooth-ache. after the men had retired, an indian, who had accompanied them from fort providence, informed me that they had broached the cask on their way up and spent two days in drinking. this instance of breach of trust was excessively distressing to me; i felt for their privations and fatigues, and was disposed to seize every opportunity of alleviating them, but this, combined with many instances of petty dishonesty with regard to meat, shewed how little confidence could be put in a canadian voyager when food or spirits were in question. we had been indeed made acquainted with their character on these points by the traders; but we thought that when they saw their officers living under equal if not greater privations than themselves, they would have been prompted by some degree of generous feeling to abstain from those depredations which, under ordinary circumstances, they would scarcely have blushed to be detected in. as they were pretty well aware that such a circumstance could not long be concealed from us, one of them came the next morning with an artful apology for their conduct. he stated, that as they knew it was my intention to treat them with a dram on the commencement of the new year, they had helped themselves to a small quantity on that day, trusting to my goodness for forgiveness; and being unwilling to act harshly at this period, i did forgive them, after admonishing them to be very circumspect in their future conduct. the ammunition, and a small present of rum, were sent to akaitcho. on the 18th vaillant, the woodman, had the misfortune to break his axe. this would have been a serious evil a few weeks sooner, but we had just received some others from slave lake. on the 27th mr. wentzel and st. germain arrived with the two esquimaux, tattannoeuck and hoeootoerock, (the belly and the ear.) the english names, which were bestowed upon them at fort churchill in commemoration of the months of their arrival there, are augustus and junius. the former speaks english. we now learned that mr. back proceeded with beauparlant to fort chipewyan, on the 24th of december, to procure stores, having previously discharged j. belleau from our service at his own request, and according to my directions. i was the more induced to comply with this man's desire of leaving us, as he proved to be too weak to perform the duty of bowman which he had undertaken. four dogs were brought up by this party, and proved a great relief to our wood-haulers during the remainder of the season. by the arrival of mr. wentzel, who is an excellent musician, and assisted us (_con amore_) in our attempts to amuse the men, we were enabled to gratify the whole establishment with an occasional dance. of this amusement the voyagers were very fond, and not the less so, as it was now and then accompanied by a dram as long as our rum lasted. on the 5th of february, two canadians came from akaitcho for fresh supplies of ammunition. we were mortified to learn that he had received some further unpleasant reports concerning us from fort providence, and that his faith in our good intentions was somewhat shaken. he expressed himself dissatisfied with the quantity of ammunition we had sent him, accused us of an intention of endeavouring to degrade him in the eyes of his tribe, and informed us that mr. weeks had refused to pay some notes for trifling quantities of goods and ammunition that had been given to the hunters who accompanied our men to slave lake. some powder and shot, and a keg of diluted spirits were sent to him with the strongest assurances of our regard. on the 12th, another party of six men was sent to fort providence, to bring up the remaining stores. st. germain went to akaitcho for the purpose of sending two of his hunters to join this party on its route. on comparing the language of our two esquimaux with a copy of st. john's gospel, printed for the use of the moravian missionary settlements on the labrador coast, it appeared that the esquimaux who resort to churchill speak a language essentially the same with those who frequent the labrador coast. the red knives, too, recognise the expression _teyma_, used by the esquimaux when they accost strangers in a friendly manner, as similarly pronounced by augustus, and those of his race who frequent the mouth of the copper-mine river. the tribe to which augustus belongs resides generally a little to the northward of churchill. in the spring, before the ice quits the shores, they kill seal, but during winter they frequent the borders of the large lakes near the coast, where they obtain fish, rein-deer, and musk-oxen. there are eighty-four grown men in the tribe, only seven of whom are aged. six chiefs have each two wives; the rest of the men have only one, so that the number of married people may amount to one hundred and seventy. he could give me no certain data whereby i might estimate the number of children. two great chiefs, or _ackhaiyoot_, have complete authority in directing the movements of the party, and in distributing provisions. the _attoogawnoeuck_, or lesser chiefs, are respected principally as senior men. the tribe seldom suffers from want of food, if the chief moves to the different stations at the proper season. they seem to follow the eastern custom respecting marriage. as soon as a girl is born, the young lad who wishes to have her for a wife goes to her father's tent, and proffers himself. if accepted, a promise is given which is considered binding, and the girl is delivered to her betrothed husband at the proper age. they consider their progenitors to have come from the moon. augustus has no other idea of a deity than some confused notions which he has obtained at churchill. when any of the tribe are dangerously ill, a conjurer is sent for, and the bearer of the message carries a suitable present to induce his attendance. upon his arrival he encloses himself in the tent with the sick man, and sings over him for days together without tasting food; but augustus, as well as the rest of the uninitiated, are ignorant of the purport of his songs, and of the nature of the being to whom they are addressed. the conjurers practise a good deal of jugglery in swallowing knives, firing bullets through their bodies, _&c._, but they are at these times generally secluded from view, and the bystanders believe their assertions, without requiring to be eye-witnesses of the fact. sixteen men and three women amongst augustus' tribe are acquainted with the mysteries of the art. the skill of the latter is exerted only on their own sex. upon the map being spread before augustus, he soon comprehended it, and recognised chesterfield inlet to be "the opening into which salt waters enter at spring tides, and which receives a river at its upper end." he termed it _kannoeuck kleenoeuck_. he has never been farther north himself than marble island, which he distinguishes as being the spot where the large ships were wrecked, alluding to the disastrous termination of barlow and knight's voyage of discovery[4]. he says, however, that esquimaux of three different tribes have traded with his countrymen, and that they described themselves as having come across land from a northern sea. one tribe, who named themselves _ahwhacknanhelett_, he supposes may come from repulse bay; another, designated _ootkooseek-kalingmoeoot_, or stone-kettle esquimaux, reside more to the westward; and the third, the _kang-orr-moeoot_, or white goose esquimaux, describe themselves as coming from a great distance, and mentioned that a party of indians had killed several of their tribe on the summer preceding their visit. upon comparing the dates of this murder with that of the last massacre which the copper indians have perpetrated on these harmless and defenceless people, they appear to differ two years; but the lapse of time is so inaccurately recorded, that this difference in their accounts is not sufficient to destroy their identity; besides the chipewyans, the only other indians who could possibly have committed the deed, have long since ceased to go to war. if this massacre should be the one mentioned by the copper indians, the kang-orr-moeoot must reside near the mouth of the anatessy, or river of strangers. [4] see introduction to hearne's _journey_, page xxiv. the winter habitations of the esquimaux, who visit churchill are built of snow, and judging from one constructed by augustus to-day, they are very comfortable dwellings. having selected a spot on the river, where the snow was about two feet deep, and sufficiently compact, he commenced by tracing out a circle twelve feet in diameter. the snow in the interior of the circle was next divided with a broad knife, having a long handle, into slabs three feet long, six inches thick, and two feet deep, being the thickness of the layer of snow. these slabs were tenacious enough to admit of being moved about without breaking, or even losing the sharpness of their angles, and they had a slight degree of curvature, corresponding with that of the circle from which they were cut. they were piled upon each other exactly like courses of hewn stone around the circle which was traced out, and care was taken to smooth the beds of the different courses with the knife, and to cut them so as to give the wall a slight inclination inwards, by which contrivance the building acquired the properties of a dome. the dome was closed somewhat suddenly and flatly by cutting the upper slabs in a wedge-form, instead of the more rectangular shape of those below. the roof was about eight feet high, and the last aperture was shut up by a small conical piece. the whole was built from within, and each slab was cut so that it retained its position without requiring support until another was placed beside it, the lightness of the slabs greatly facilitating the operation. when the building was covered in, a little loose snow was thrown over it, to close up every chink, and a low door was cut through the walls with a knife. a bed-place was next formed and neatly faced up with slabs of snow, which was then covered with a thin layer of pine branches, to prevent them from melting by the heat of the body. at each end of the bed a pillar of snow was erected to place a lamp upon, and lastly, a porch was built before the door, and a piece of clear ice was placed in an aperture cut in the wall for a window. the purity of the material of which the house was framed, the elegance of its construction, and the translucency of its walls, which transmitted a very pleasant light, gave it an appearance far superior to a marble building, and one might survey it with feelings somewhat akin to those produced by the contemplation of a grecian temple, reared by phidias; both are triumphs of art, inimitable in their kinds. annexed there is a plan of a complete esquimaux snow-house and kitchen and other apartments, copied from a sketch made by augustus, with the names of the different places affixed. the only fire-place is in the kitchen, the heat of the lamps sufficing to keep the other apartments warm:-[illustration] references to the plan. a. _ablokeyt_, steps. b. _pahloeuk_, porch. c. _wadl-leek_, passage. d. _haddnoeweek_, for the reception of the sweepings of the house. e. g. _tokheuook_, antechamber, or passage. f. _annarroeartoweek._ h. _eegah_, cooking-house. i. _eegah-natkah_, passage. k. _keidgewack_, for piling wood upon. l. _keek kloweyt_, cooking side. m. _keek loot_, fire-place built of stone.{6} n. _eegloo_, house. o. _kattack_, door. p. _nattoeuck_, clear space in the apartment. a. d. _eekput_, a kind of shelf where the candle stands; and b. c. a pit where they throw their bones, and other offal of their provision. q. _eegl-luck_, bed-place. r. _eegleeteoet_, bed-side or sitting-place. s. bed-place, as on the other side.{7} t. _kietgn-nok_, small pantry. u. _hoergloack_, store-house{8} for provisions. several deer were killed near the house, and we received some supplies from akaitcho. parties were also employed in bringing in the meat that was placed _en cache_ in the early part of the winter. more than one half of these _caches_, however, had been destroyed by the wolves and wolverenes; a circumstance which, in conjunction with the empty state of our store-house, led us to fear that we should be much straitened for provisions before the arrival of any considerable number of rein-deer in this neighbourhood. a good many ptarmigan were seen at this time, and the women caught some in snares, but not in sufficient quantity to make any further alteration in the rations of deers' meat that were daily issued. they had already been reduced from eight, to the short allowance of five pounds. many wolves prowled nightly about the house, and even ventured upon the roof of the kitchen, which is a low building, in search of food; keskarrah shot a very large white one, of which a beautiful and correct drawing was made by mr. hood. the temperature in february was considerably lower than in the preceding month, although not so low as in december, the mean being -25°.3. the greatest temperature was 1° above zero, and the lowest 51° below. on the 5th of march the people returned from slave lake, bringing the remainder of our stores, consisting of a cask of flour, thirty-six pounds of sugar, a roll of tobacco, and forty pounds of powder. i received a letter from mr. weeks, wherein he denied that he had ever circulated any reports to our disadvantage; and stated that he had done every thing in his power to assist us, and even discouraged akaitcho from leaving us, when he had sent him a message, saying, that he wished to do so, if he was sure of being well received at fort providence. we mentioned the contents of the letter to the indians, who were at the house at the time, when one of the hunters, who had attended the men on their journey, stated, that he had heard many of the reports against us from mr. weeks himself, and expressed his surprise that he should venture to deny them. st. germain soon afterwards arrived from akaitcho, and informed us, that he left him in good humour, and, apparently, not harbouring the slightest idea of quitting us. on the 12th, we sent four men to fort providence; and, on the 17th mr. back arrived from fort chipewyan, having performed, since he left us, a journey of more than one thousand miles on foot. i had every reason to be much pleased with his conduct on this arduous undertaking; but his exertions may be best estimated by the perusal of the following narrative. "on quitting fort enterprise, with mr. wentzel and two canadians, accompanied by two hunters and their wives, our route lay across the barren hills. we saw, during the day, a number of deer, and, occasionally, a solitary white wolf; and in the evening halted near a small knot of pines. owing to the slow progress made by the wives of the hunters, we only travelled the first day a distance of seven miles and a half. during the night we had a glimpse of the fantastic beauties of the aurora borealis, and were somewhat annoyed by the wolves, whose nightly howling interrupted our repose. early the next morning we continued our march, sometimes crossing small lakes (which were just frozen enough to bear us,) and at other times going large circuits, in order to avoid those which were open. the walking was extremely bad throughout the day; for independent of the general unevenness of the ground, and the numberless large stones which lay scattered in every direction, the unusual warmth of the weather had dissolved the snow, which not only kept us constantly wet, but deprived us of a firm footing, so that the men, with their heavy burdens, were in momentary apprehension of falling. in the afternoon a fine herd of deer was descried, and the indians, who are always anxious for the chase, and can hardly be restrained from pursuing every animal they see, set out immediately. it was late when they returned, having had good success, and bringing with them five tongues, and the shoulder of a deer. we made about twelve miles this day. the night was fine, and the aurora borealis so vivid, that we imagined, more than once, that we heard a rustling noise like that of autumnal leaves stirred by the wind; but after two hours of attentive listening, we were not entirely convinced of the fact. the coruscations were not so bright, nor the transition from one shape and colour to another so rapid, as they sometimes are; otherwise, i have no doubt, from the midnight silence which prevailed, that we should have ascertained this yet undecided point. "the morning of the 20th was so extremely hazy that we could not see ten yards before us; it was, therefore, late when we started, and during our journey the hunters complained of the weather, and feared they should lose the track of our route. towards the evening it became so thick that we could not proceed; consequently, we halted in a small wood, situated in a valley, having only completed a distance of six miles. "the scenery consisted of high hills, which were almost destitute of trees, and lakes appeared in the valleys. the cracking of the ice was so loud during the night as to resemble thunder, and the wolves howled around us. we were now at the commencement of the woods, and at an early hour, on the 21st, continued our journey over high hills for three miles, when the appearance of some deer caused us to halt, and nearly the remainder of the day was passed in hunting them. in the evening we stopped within sight of prospect hill, having killed and concealed six deer. a considerable quantity of snow fell during the night. "the surrounding country was extremely rugged; the hills divided by deep ravines, and the valleys covered with broken masses of rocks and stones; yet the deer fly (as it were,) over these impediments with apparent ease, seldom making a false step, and springing from crag to crag with all the confidence of the mountain goat. after passing rein-deer lake, (where the ice was so thin as to bend at every step for nine miles,) we halted, perfectly satisfied with our escape from sinking into the water. while some of the party were forming the encampment one of the hunters killed a deer, a part of which was concealed to be ready for use on our return. this evening we halted in a wood near the canoe track, after having travelled a distance of nine miles. the wind was s.e. and the night cloudy, with wind and rain. "on the 24th and 25th we underwent some fatigue from being obliged to go round the lakes, which lay across our route, and were not sufficiently frozen to bear us. several rivulets appeared to empty themselves into the lakes, no animals were killed, and few tracks seen. the scenery consisted of barren rocks and high hills, covered with lofty pine, birch, and larch trees. "_october 26_.--we continued our journey, sometimes on frozen lakes, and at other times on high craggy rocks. when we were on the lakes we were much impeded in our journey by different parts which were unfrozen. there was a visible increase of wood, consisting of birch and larch, as we inclined to the southward. about ten a.m. we passed icy portage, where we saw various tracks of the moose, bear, and otter; and after a most harassing march through thick woods and over fallen trees, we halted a mile to the westward of fishing lake; our provisions were now almost expended; the weather was cloudy with snow. "on the 27th we crossed two lakes, and performed a circuitous route, frequently crossing high hills to avoid those lakes which were not frozen; during the day one of the women made a hole through the ice, and caught a fine pike, which she gave to us; the indians would not partake of it, from the idea (as we afterwards learnt,) that we should not have sufficient for ourselves: 'we are accustomed to starvation,' said they, 'but you are not.' in the evening, we halted near rocky lake. i accompanied one of the indians to the summit of a hill, where he shewed me a dark horizontal cloud, extending to a considerable distance along the mountains in the perspective, which he said was occasioned by the great slave lake, and was considered as a good guide to all the hunters in the vicinity. on our return we saw two untenanted bears' dens. "the night was cloudy with heavy snow, yet the following morning we continued our tedious march; many of the lakes remained still open, and the rocks were high and covered with snow, which continued to fall all day, consequently we effected but a trifling distance, and that too with much difficulty. in the evening we halted; having only performed about seven miles. one of the indians gave us a fish which he had caught, though he had nothing for himself; and it was with much trouble that he could be prevailed upon to partake of it. the night was again cloudy with snow. on the 29th we set out through deep snow and thick woods; and after crossing two small lakes stopped to breakfast, sending the women on before, as they had already complained of lameness, and could not keep pace with the party. it was not long before we overtook them on the banks of a small lake, which though infinitely less in magnitude than many we had passed, yet had not a particle of ice on its surface. it was shoal, had no visible current, and was surrounded by hills. we had nothing to eat, and were not very near an establishment where food could be procured; however, as we proceeded, the lakes were frozen, and we quickened our pace stopping but twice for the hunters to smoke. nevertheless the distance we completed was but trifling, and at night we halted near a lake, the men being tired, and much bruised from constantly falling amongst thick broken wood and loose stones concealed under the snow. the night was blowing and hazy with snow. "on the 30th we set out with the expectation of gaining the slave lake in the evening; but our progress was again impeded by the same causes as before, so that the whole day was spent in forcing our way through thick woods and over snow-covered swamps. we had to walk over pointed and loose rocks, which sliding from under our feet, made our path dangerous, and often threw us down several feet on sharp-edged stones lying beneath the snow. once we had to climb a towering, and almost perpendicular, rock, which not only detained us, but was the cause of great anxiety for the safety of the women who being heavily laden with furs, and one of them with a child at her back, could not exert themselves with the activity which such a task required. fortunately nothing serious occurred, though one of them once fell with considerable violence. during the day one of the hunters broke through the ice, but was soon extricated; when it became dark we halted near the bow string portage, greatly disappointed at not having reached the lake. the weather was cloudy, accompanied with thick mist and snow. the indians expected to have found here a bear in its den, and to have made a hearty meal of its flesh: indeed it had been the subject of conversation all day, and they had even gone so far as to divide it, frequently asking me what part i preferred; but when we came to the spot--oh! lamentable! it had already fallen a prey to the devouring appetites of some more fortunate hunters, who had only left sufficient evidence that such a thing had once existed, and we had merely the consolation of realizing an old proverb. one of our men, however, caught a fish which with the assistance of some weed scraped from the rocks, (_tripe de roche_,) which forms a glutinous substance, made us a tolerable supper; it was not of the most choice kind, yet good enough for hungry men. while we were eating it i perceived one of the women busily employed scraping an old skin, the contents of which her husband presented us with. they consisted of pounded meat, fat, and a greater proportion of indians' and deers' hair than either; and though such a mixture may not appear very alluring to an english stomach, it was thought a great luxury after three days' privation in these cheerless regions of america. indeed had it not been for the precaution and generosity of the indians, we must have gone without sustenance until we reached the fort. "on the 1st of november our men began to make a raft to enable us to cross a river which was not even frozen at the edges. it was soon finished, and three of us embarked, being seated up to the ankles in water. we each took a pine branch for a paddle, and made an effort to gain the opposite shore, in which, after some time, (and not without strong apprehensions of drifting into the slave lake,) we succeeded. in two hours the whole party was over, with a comfortable addition to it in the shape of some fine fish, which the indians had caught: of course we did not forget to take these friends with us, and after passing several lakes, to one of which we saw no termination, we halted within eight miles to the fort. the great slave lake was not frozen. "in crossing a narrow branch of the lake i fell through the ice, but received no injury; and at noon we arrived at fort providence, and were received by mr. weeks, a clerk of the north-west company, in charge of the establishment. i found several packets of letters for the officers, which i was desirous of sending to them immediately; but as the indians and their wives complained of illness and inability to return without rest, a flagon of mixed spirits was given them, and their sorrows were soon forgotten. in a quarter of an hour they pronounced themselves excellent hunters, and capable of going any where; however, their boasting ceased with the last drop of the bottle, when a crying scene took place, which would have continued half the night, had not the magic of an additional quantity of spirits dried their tears, and once more turned their mourning into joy. it was a satisfaction to me to behold these poor creatures enjoying themselves, for they had behaved in the most exemplary and active manner towards the party, and with a generosity and sympathy seldom found even in the more civilized parts of the world: and the attention and affection which they manifested towards their wives, evinced a benevolence of disposition and goodness of nature which could not fail to secure the approbation of the most indifferent observer. "the accounts i here received of our goods were of so unsatisfactory a nature, that i determined to proceed, as soon as the lake was frozen, to moose-deer island, or if necessary to the athabasca lake; both to inform myself of the grounds of the unceremonious and negligent manner in which the expedition had been treated, and to obtain a sufficient supply of ammunition and other stores, to enable it to leave its present situation, and proceed for the attainment of its ultimate object. "_november 9_.--i despatched to fort enterprise one of the men, with the letters and a hundred musquet-balls, which mr. weeks lent me on condition that they should be returned the first opportunity. an indian and his wife accompanied the messenger. lieutenant franklin was made acquainted with the exact state of things; and i awaited with much impatience the freezing of the lake. "_november 16_.--a band of slave indians came to the fort with a few furs and some bear's grease. though we had not seen any of them, it appeared that they had received information of our being in the country, and knew the precise situation of our house, which they would have visited long ago, but from the fear of being pillaged by the copper indians. i questioned the chief about the great bear and marten lakes, their distance from fort enterprise, &c.; but his answers were so vague and unsatisfactory that they were not worth attention; his description of bouleau's route, (which he said was the shortest and best, and abundant in animals,) was very defective, though the relative points were sufficiently characteristic, had we not possessed a better route. he had never been at the sea; and knew nothing about the mouth of the copper-mine river. in the evening he made his young men dance, and sometimes accompanied them himself. they had four feathers in each hand. one commenced moving in a circular form, lifting both feet at the same time, similar to jumping sideways. after a short time a second and a third joined, and afterwards the whole band was dancing, some in a state of nudity, others half dressed, singing an unmusical wild air with (i suppose,) appropriate words; the particular sounds of which were, ha! ha! ha! uttered vociferously, and with great distortion of countenance, and peculiar attitude of body, the feathers being always kept in a tremulous motion. the ensuing day i made the chief acquainted with the object of our mission, and recommended him to keep at peace with his neighbouring tribes, and to conduct himself with attention and friendship towards the whites. i then gave him a medal, telling him it was the picture of the king, whom they emphatically term 'their great father.' "_november 18_.--we observed two mock moons at equal distances from the central one; and the whole were encircled by a halo: the colour of the inner edge of the large circle was a light red, inclining to a faint purple. "_november 20_.--two parhelia were observable with a halo; the colours of the inner edge of the circle were a bright carmine and red lake, intermingled with a rich yellow, forming a purplish orange; the outer edge was pale gamboge. "_december 5_.--a man was sent some distance on the lake, to see if it was sufficiently frozen for us to cross. i need scarcely mention my satisfaction, when he returned with the pleasing information that it was. "_december 7_.--i quitted fort providence, being accompanied by mr. wentzel, beauparlant, and two other canadians, provided with dogs and sledges. we proceeded along the borders of the lake, occasionally crossing deep bays; and at dusk encamped at the _gros cap_, having proceeded twenty-five miles. "_december 8_.--we set out on the lake with an excessively cold north-west wind, and were frequently interrupted by large pieces of ice which had been thrown up by the violence of the waves during the progress of congelation, and at dusk we encamped on the rein-deer islands. "the night was fine, with a faint aurora borealis. next day the wind was so keen, that the men proposed conveying me in a sledge that i might be the less exposed, to which, after some hesitation, i consented. accordingly a rein-deer skin and a blanket were laid along the sledge, and in these i was wrapped tight up to the chin, and lashed to the vehicle, just leaving sufficient play for my head to perceive when i was about to be upset on some rough projecting piece of ice. thus equipped, we set off before the wind (a favourable circumstance on a lake), and went on very well until noon; when the ice being driven up in ridges, in such a manner as to obstruct us very much, i was released; and i confess not unwillingly, though i had to walk the remainder of the day. "there are large openings in many parts where the ice had separated; and in attempting to cross one of them, the dogs fell into the water, and were saved with difficulty. the poor animals suffered dreadfully from the cold, and narrowly escaped being frozen to death. we had quickened our pace towards the close of the day, but could not get sight of the land; and it was not till the sun had set that we perceived it about four miles to our left, which obliged us to turn back, and head the wind. it was then so cold, that two of the party were frozen almost immediately about the face and ears. i escaped, from having the good fortune to possess a pair of gloves made of rabbits' skin, with which i kept constantly chafing the places which began to be affected. at six p.m. we arrived at the fishing-huts near stony island, and remained the night there. the canadians were not a little surprised at seeing us whom they had already given up for lost--nor less so at the manner by which we had come--for they all affirmed, that the lake near them was quite free from ice the day before. "_december 10_.--at{9} an early hour we quitted the huts, lashed on sledges as before, with some little addition to our party; and at three hours thirty minutes p.m. arrived at the north-west fort on moose-deer island, where i was received by mr. smith, with whom i had been acquainted at the athabasca. he said he partly expected me. the same evening i visited messrs. mcvicar and mcauley{10} at hudson's bay fort, when i found the reports concerning our goods were but too true, there being in reality but five packages for us. i also was informed that two esquimaux, augustus the chief, and junius his servant, who had been sent from fort churchill by governor williams, to serve in the capacity of interpreters to the expedition, were at the fort. these men were short of stature but muscular, apparently good-natured, and perfectly acquainted with the purpose for which they were intended. they had built themselves a snow-house on an adjacent island, where they used frequently to sleep. the following day i examined the pieces, and to my great disappointment found them to consist of three kegs of spirits, already adulterated by the voyagers who had brought them; a keg of flour, and thirty-five pounds of sugar, instead of sixty. the ammunition and tobacco,{11} the two greatest requisites, were left behind. "i lost no time in making a demand from both parties; and though their united list did not furnish the half of what was required, yet it is possible that every thing was given by them which could be spared consistently with their separate interests, particularly by mr. mcvicar, who in many articles gave me the whole he had in his possession. these things were sent away immediately for fort enterprise, when an interpreter arrived with letters from lieutenant franklin, which referred to a series of injurious reports said to have been propagated against us by some one at fort providence. "finding a sufficiency of goods could not be provided at moose-deer island, i determined{12} to proceed to the athabasca lake, and ascertain the inclinations of the gentlemen there. with this view i communicated my intentions to both parties; but could only get dogs enough from the north-west company to carry the necessary provisions for the journey. indeed mr. smith informed me plainly he was of opinion that nothing could be spared at fort chipewyan; that goods had never been transported so long a journey in the winter season, and that the same dogs could not possibly go and return; besides, it was very doubtful if i could be provided with dogs there; and finally, that the distance was great, and would take sixteen days to perform it. he added that the provisions would be mouldy and bad, and that from having to walk constantly on snow-shoes, i should suffer a great deal of misery and fatigue. notwithstanding these assertions, on the 23d of december i left the fort, with beauparlant and a bois-brulé, each having a sledge drawn by dogs, laden with pemmican. we crossed an arm of the lake, and entered the little buffalo river, which is connected with the salt river, and is about fifty yards wide at its junction with the lake--the water is brackish. this route is usually taken in the winter, as it cuts off a large angle in going to the great slave river. in the afternoon we passed two empty fishing-huts, and in the evening encamped amongst some high pines on the banks of the river, having had several snow-showers during the day, which considerably{13} impeded the dogs, so that we had not proceeded more than fifteen miles. "_december 24_ and _25_.--we continued along the river, frequently making small portages to avoid going round the points, and passed some small canoes, which the indians had left for the winter. the snow was so deep that the dogs were obliged to stop every ten minutes to rest; and the cold so excessive, that both the men were badly frozen on both sides of the face and chin. at length, having come to a long meadow, which the dogs could not cross that night, we halted in an adjoining wood, and were presently joined by a canadian, who was on his return to the fort, and who treated us with some fresh meat in exchange for pemmican. during the latter part of the day we had seen numerous tracks of the moose, buffalo, and marten. "_december 26_.--the weather was so cold that we were compelled to run to prevent ourselves from freezing; our route lay across some large meadows which appeared to abound in animals, though the indians around slave lake are in a state of great want. about noon we passed a sulphur-stream, which ran into the river; it appeared to come from a plain about fifty yards distant. there were no rocks near it, and the soil through which it took its course was composed of a reddish clay. i was much galled by the strings of the snow-shoes during the day, and once got a severe fall, occasioned by the dogs running over one of my feet, and dragging me some distance, my snow-shoe having become entangled with the sledge. in the evening we lost our way, from the great similarity of appearance in the country, and it was dark before we found it again, when we halted in a thick wood, after having come about sixteen miles from the last encampment. much snow fell during the night. "at an early hour on the 27th of december, we continued our journey over the surface of a long but narrow lake, and then through a wood, which brought us to the _grand detour_ on the slave river. the weather was extremely cloudy, with occasional falls of snow, which tended greatly to impede our progress, from its gathering in lumps between the dogs' toes; and though they did not go very fast, yet my left knee pained me so much, that i found it difficult to keep up with them. at three p.m. we halted within nine miles of the salt river, and made a hearty meal of mouldy pemmican. "_december 28_ and _29_.--we had much difficulty in proceeding, owing to the poor dogs being quite worn out, and their feet perfectly raw. we endeavoured to tie shoes on them, to afford them some little relief, but they continually came off when amongst deep snow, so that it occupied one person entirely to look after them. in this state they were hardly of any use among the steep ascents of the portages, when we were obliged to drag the sledges ourselves. we found a few of the rapids entirely frozen. those that were not had holes and large spaces about them, from whence issued a thick vapour, and in passing this we found it particularly cold; but what appeared most curious was the number of small fountains which rose through the ice, and often rendered it doubtful which way we should take. i was much disappointed at finding several falls (which i had intended to sketch) frozen almost even with the upper and lower parts of the stream; the ice was connected by a thin arch, and the rushing of the water underneath might be heard at a considerable distance. on the banks of these rapids there was a constant overflowing of the water, but in such small quantities as to freeze before it had reached the surface of the central ice, so that we passed between two ridges of icicles, the transparency of which was beautifully contrasted by the flakes of snow and the dark green branches of the over-hanging pine. "beauparlant complained bitterly of the cold whilst among the rapids, but no sooner had he reached the upper part of the river than he found the change of the temperature so great, that he vented his indignation against the heat.--"mais c'est terrible," said he, to be frozen and sun-burnt in the same day. the poor fellow, who had been a long time in the country, regarded it as the most severe punishment that could have been inflicted on him, and would willingly have given a part of his wages rather than this disgrace had happened; for there is a pride amongst "old voyagers," which makes them consider the state of being frost-bitten as effeminate, and only excusable in a "pork-eater," or one newly come into the country. i was greatly fatigued, and suffered acute pains in the knees and legs, both of which were much swollen when we halted a little above the dog river. "_december 30_ and _31_.--our journey these days was by far the most annoying we had yet experienced; but, independent of the vast masses of ice that were piled on one another, as well as the numerous open places about the rapids (and they did not a little impede us,) there was a strong gale from the north-west, and so dreadfully keen, that our time was occupied in rubbing the frozen parts of the face, and in attempting to warm the hands, in order to be prepared for the next operation. scarcely was one place cured by constant friction than another was frozen; and though there was nothing pleasant about it, yet it was laughable enough to observe the dexterity which was used in changing the position of the hand from the face to the mitten, and _vice versâ_. one of the men was severely affected, the whole side of his face being nearly raw. towards sunset i suffered so much in my knee and ankle, from a recent sprain, that it was with difficulty i could proceed with snow-shoes to the encampment on the stony islands. but in this point i was not singular: for beauparlant was almost as bad, and without the same cause. 1821. january 1. "we set out with a quick step, the wind still blowing fresh from the north-west, which seemed in some measure to invigorate the dogs; for towards sunset they left me considerably behind. indeed my legs and ankles were now so swelled, that it was excessive pain to drag the snow-shoes after me. at night we halted on the banks of stony river, when i gave the men a glass of grog, to commemorate the new year; and the next day, january 2, we arrived at fort chipewyan, after a journey of ten days and four hours--the shortest time in which the distance had been performed at the same season. i found messrs. g. keith and s. mcgillivray in charge of the fort, who were not a little surprised to see me. the commencement of the new year is the rejoicing season of the canadians, when they are generally intoxicated for some days. i postponed making any demand till this time of festivity should cease; but on the same day i went over to the hudson's bay fort, and delivered lieutenant franklin's letters to mr. simpson. if they were astonished on one side to see me, the amazement was still greater on the other; for reports were so far in advance, that we were said to have already fallen by the spears of the esquimaux. "_january 3_.--i made a demand from both parties for supplies; such as ammunition, gun-flints, axes, files, clothing, tobacco, and spirits. i stated to them our extreme necessity, and that without their assistance the expedition must be arrested in its progress. the answer from the north-west gentlemen was satisfactory enough; but on the hudson's bay side i was told, "that any farther assistance this season entirely depended on the arrival of supplies expected in a few weeks from a distant establishment." i remained at fort chipewyan five weeks, during which time some laden sledges did arrive, but i could not obtain any addition to the few articles i had procured at first. a packet of letters for us, from england, having arrived, i made preparations for my return, but not before i had requested both companies to send next year, from the depôts, a quantity of goods for our use, specified in lists furnished to them. "the weather, during my abode at chipewyan, was generally mild, with occasional heavy storms, most of which were anticipated by the activity of the aurora borealis; and this i observed had been the case between fort providence and the athabasca in december and january, though not invariably so in other parts of the country. one of the partners of the north-west company related to me the following singular story:--'he was travelling in a canoe in the english river, and had landed near the kettle fall, when the coruscations of the aurora borealis were so vivid and low, that the canadians fell on their faces, and began praying and crying, fearing they should be killed; he himself threw away his gun and knife, that they might not attract the flashes, for they were within two feet from the earth, flitting along with incredible swiftness, and moving parallel to its surface. they continued for upwards of five minutes, as near as he could judge, and made a loud rustling noise, like the waving of a flag in a strong breeze. after they had ceased, the sky became clear, with little wind.' "_february 9_.--having got every thing arranged, and had a hearty breakfast with a _coupe de l'eau de vie_, (a custom amongst the traders,) i took my departure, or rather attempted to do so, for on going to the gate there was a long range of women, who came to bid me farewell. they were all dressed (after the manner of the country) in blue or green cloth, with their hair fresh greased, separated before, and falling down behind, not in careless tresses, but in a good sound tail, fastened with black tape or riband. this was considered a great compliment, and the ceremony consisted in embracing the whole party. "i had with me four sledges, laden with goods for the expedition, and a fifth belonging to the hudson's bay company. we returned exactly by the same route, suffering no other inconvenience but that arising from the chafing of the snow-shoe, and bad weather. some indians, whom we met on the banks of the little buffalo river, were rather surprised at seeing us, for they had heard that we were on an island, which was surrounded by esquimaux. the dogs were almost worn out, and their feet raw, when, on february the 20th, we arrived at moose-deer island with our goods all in good order. towards the end of the month two of our men arrived with letters from lieutenant franklin, containing some fresh demands, the major part of which i was fortunate enough to procure without the least trouble. having arranged the accounts and receipts between the companies and the expedition, and sent every thing before me to fort providence, i prepared for my departure; and it is but justice to the gentlemen of both parties at moose-deer island to remark, that they afforded the means of forwarding our stores in the most cheerful and pleasant manner. "_march 5_.--i took leave of the gentlemen at the forts, and, in the afternoon, got to the fisheries near stony island, where i found mr. mcvicar, who was kind enough to have a house ready for my reception; and i was not a little gratified at perceiving a pleasant-looking girl employed in roasting a fine joint, and afterwards arranging the table with all the dexterity of an accomplished servant. "_march 6_.--we set out at daylight, and breakfasted at the rein-deer islands. as the day advanced, the heat became so oppressive, that each pulled off his coat and ran till sunset, when we halted with two men, who were on their return to moose-deer island. there was a beautiful aurora borealis in the night; it rose about n.b.w., and divided into three bars, diverging at equal distances as far as the zenith, and then converging until they met in the opposite horizon; there were some flashes at right angles to the bars. "_march 7_.--we arrived at fort providence, and found our stores safe and in good order. there being no certainty when the indian, who was to accompany me to our house, would arrive, and my impatience to join my companions increasing as i approached it, after making the necessary arrangements with mr. weeks respecting our stores, on march the 10th i quitted the fort, with two of our men, who had each a couple of dogs and a sledge laden with provision. on the 13th we met the indian, near icy portage, who was sent to guide me back. on the 14th we killed a deer, and gave the dogs a good feed; and on the 17th, at an early hour, we arrived at fort enterprise, having travelled about eighteen miles a-day. i had the pleasure of meeting my friends all in good health, after an absence of nearly five months, during which time i had travelled one thousand one hundred and four miles, on snow-shoes, and had no other covering at night, in the woods, than a blanket and deer-skin, with the thermometer frequently at -40°, and once at -57°; and sometimes passing two or three days without tasting food." chapter ix. continuation of proceedings at fort enterprise--some account of the copper indians--preparations for the journey to the northward. 1821. march 18. i shall now give a brief account of the copper indians, termed by the chipewyans, tantsawhot-dinneh, or birch-rind indians. they were originally a tribe of the chipewyans, and, according to their own account, inhabited the south side of great slave lake, at no very distant period. their language, traditions, and customs, are essentially the same with those of the chipewyans, but in personal character they have greatly the advantage of that people; owing, probably, to local causes, or perhaps to their procuring their food more easily and in greater abundance. they hold women in the same low estimation as the chipewyans do, looking upon them as a kind of property, which the stronger may take from the weaker, whenever there is just reason for quarrelling, if the parties are of their own nation, or whenever they meet, if the weaker party are dog-ribs or other strangers. they suffer, however, the kinder affections to shew themselves occasionally; they, in general, live happily with their wives, the women are contented with their lot, and we witnessed several instances of strong attachment. of their kindness to strangers we are fully qualified to speak; their love of property, attention to their interests, and fears for the future, made them occasionally clamorous and unsteady; but their delicate and humane attention to us, in a season of great distress, at a future period, are indelibly engraven on our memories. of their notions of a deity, or future state, we never could obtain any satisfactory account; they were unwilling, perhaps, to expose their opinions to the chance of ridicule. akaitcho generally evaded our questions on these points, but expressed a desire to learn from us, and regularly attended divine service during his residence at the fort, behaving with the utmost decorum. this leader, indeed, and many others of his tribe, possess a laudable curiosity, which might easily be directed to the most important ends; and i believe, that a well-conducted christian mission to this quarter would not fail of producing the happiest effect. old keskarrah alone used boldly to express his disbelief of a supreme deity, and state that he could not credit the existence of a being, whose power was said to extend every where, but whom he had not yet seen, although he was now an old man. the aged sceptic is not a little conceited, as the following exordium to one of his speeches evinces: "it is very strange that i never meet with any one who is equal in sense to myself." the same old man, in one of his communicative moods, related to us the following tradition. the earth had been formed, but continued enveloped in total darkness, when a bear and a squirrel met on the shores of a lake; a dispute arose as to their respective powers, which they agreed to settle by running in opposite directions round the lake, and whichever arrived first at the starting point, was to evince his superiority by some signal act of power. the squirrel beat, ran up a tree, and loudly demanded light, which instantly beaming forth, discovered a bird dispelling the gloom with its wings; the bird was afterwards recognised to be a crow. the squirrel next broke a piece of bark from the tree, endowed it with the power of floating, and said, "behold the material which shall afford the future inhabitants of the earth the means of traversing the waters." the indians are not the first people who have ascribed the origin of nautics to the ingenuity of the squirrel. the copper indians consider the bear, otter, and other animals of prey, or rather some kind of spirits which assume the forms of these creatures, as their constant enemies, and the cause of every misfortune they endure; and in seasons of difficulty or sickness they alternately deprecate and abuse them. few of this nation have more than one wife at a time, and none but the leaders have more than two. akaitcho has three, and the mother of his only son is the favourite. they frequently marry two sisters, and there is no prohibition to the intermarriage of cousins, but a man is restricted from marrying his niece. the last war excursion they made against the esquimaux was ten years ago, when they destroyed about thirty persons, at the mouth of what they term stony-point river, not far from the mouth of the copper-mine river. they now seem desirous of being on friendly terms with that persecuted nation, and hope, through our means, to establish a lucrative commerce with them. indeed, the copper indians are sensible of the advantages that would accrue to them, were they made the carriers of goods between the traders and esquimaux. at the time of hearne's visit, the copper indians being unsupplied with fire-arms, were oppressed by the chipewyans; but even that traveller had occasion to praise their kindness of heart. since they have received arms from the traders, the chipewyans are fearful of venturing upon their lands; and all of that nation, who frequent the shores of great slave lake, hold the name of akaitcho in great respect. the chipewyans have no leader of equal authority amongst themselves. the number of the copper indians may be one hundred and ninety souls, _viz._, eighty men and boys, and one hundred and ten women and young children. there are forty-five hunters in the tribe. the adherents of akaitcho amount to about forty men and boys; the rest follow a number of minor chiefs. for the following notices of the nations on mackenzie's river, we are principally indebted to mr. wentzel, who resided for many years in that quarter. the _thlingcha-dinneh_, or dog-ribs, or, as they are sometimes termed after the crees, who formerly warred against them, _slaves_, inhabit the country to the westward of the copper indians, as far as mackenzie's river. they are of a mild, hospitable, but rather indolent, disposition; spend much of their time in amusements, and are fond of singing and dancing. in this respect, and in another, they differ very widely from most of the other aborigines of north america. i allude to their kind treatment of the women. the men do the laborious work, whilst their wives employ themselves in ornamenting their dresses with quill-work, and in other occupations suited to their sex. mr. wentzel has often known the young married men to bring specimens of their wives' needle-work to the forts, and exhibit them with much pride. kind treatment of the fair sex being usually considered as an indication of considerable progress in civilization, it might be worth while to inquire how it happens, that this tribe has stept so far beyond its neighbours. it has had, undoubtedly, the same common origin with the chipewyans, for their languages differ only in accent, and their mode of life is essentially the same. we have not sufficient data to prosecute the inquiry with any hope of success, but we may recall to the reader's memory what was formerly mentioned, that the dog-ribs say they came from the westward, whilst the chipewyans say that they migrated from the eastward. when bands of dog-ribs meet each other after a long absence, they perform a kind of dance. a piece of ground is cleared for the purpose, if in winter of the snow, or if in summer of the bushes; and the dance frequently lasts for two or three days, the parties relieving each other as they get tired. the two bands commence the dance with their backs turned to each other, the individuals following one another in indian file, and holding the bow in the left hand, and an arrow in the right. they approach obliquely, after many turns, and when the two lines are closely back to back, they feign to see each other for the first time, and the bow is instantly transferred to the right hand, and the arrow to the left, signifying that it is not their intention to employ them against their friends. at a fort they use feathers instead of bows. the dance is accompanied with a song. these people are the dancing-masters of the country. the copper indians have neither dance nor music but what they borrow from them. on our first interview with akaitcho, at fort providence, he treated us, as has already been mentioned, with a representation of the dog-rib dance; and mr. back, during his winter journey, had an opportunity of observing it performed by the dog-ribs themselves. the chief tribe of the dog-rib nation, termed horn mountain indians, inhabit the country betwixt great bear lake, and the west end of great slave lake. they muster about two hundred men and boys capable of pursuing the chase. small detachments of the nation frequent marten lake, and hunt during the summer in the neighbourhood of fort enterprise. indeed this part of the country was formerly exclusively theirs, and most of the lakes and remarkable hills bear the names which they imposed upon them. as the copper indians generally pillage them of their women and furs when they meet, they endeavour to avoid them, and visit their ancient quarters on the barren grounds only by stealth. immediately to the northward of the dog-ribs, on the north side of bear lake river, are the _kawcho-dinneh_, or hare indians, who also speak a dialect of the chipewyan language, and have much of the same manners with the dog-ribs, but are considered both by them and by the copper indians, to be great conjurers. these people report that in their hunting excursions to the northward of great bear lake they meet small parties of esquimaux. immediately to the northward of the hare indians, on both banks of mackenzie's river, are the _tykothee-dinneh_, loucheux, squint-eyes, or quarrellers. they speak a language distinct from the chipewyan. they war often with the esquimaux at the mouth of mackenzie's river, but have occasionally some peaceable intercourse with them, and it would appear that they find no difficulty in understanding each other, there being considerable similarity in their languages. their dress also resembles the esquimaux, and differs from that of the other inhabitants of mackenzie's river. the tykothee-dinneh trade with fort good-hope, situated a considerable distance below the confluence of bear lake river with mackenzie's river, and as the traders suppose, within three days' march of the arctic sea. it is the most northern establishment of the north-west company, and some small pieces of russian copper coin once made their way thither across the continent from the westward. blue or white beads are almost the only articles of european manufacture coveted by the loucheux. they perforate the septum of the nose, and insert in the opening three small shells, which they procure at a high price from the esquimaux. on the west bank of mackenzie's river there are several tribes who speak dialects of the chipewyan language, that have not hitherto been mentioned. the first met with, on tracing the river to the southward from fort good-hope, are the _ambawtawhoot-dinneh_, or sheep indians. they inhabit the rocky mountains near the sources of the dawhoot-dinneh river which flows into mackenzie's, and are but little known to the traders. some of them have visited fort good-hope. a report of their being cannibals may have originated in an imperfect knowledge of them. some distance to the southward of this people are the rocky mountain indians, a small tribe which musters about forty men and boys capable of pursuing the chase. they differ but little from the next we are about to mention, the _edchawtawhoot-dinneh_, strong-bow, beaver, or thick-wood indians, who frequent the _rivière aux liards_, or south branch of mackenzie's river. the strong-bows resemble the dog-ribs somewhat in their disposition; but when they meet they assume a considerable degree of superiority over the latter, who meekly submit to the haughtiness of their neighbours. until the year 1813, when a small party of them, from some unfortunate provocation, destroyed fort nelson on the _rivière aux liards_, and murdered its inmates, the strong-bows were considered to be a friendly and quiet tribe, and esteemed as excellent hunters. they take their names, in the first instance, from their dogs. a young man is the father of a certain dog, but when he is married, and has a son, he styles himself the father of the boy. the women have a habit of reproving the dogs very tenderly when they observe them fighting.--"are you not ashamed," say they, "are you not ashamed to quarrel with your little brother?" the dogs appear to understand the reproof, and sneak off. the strong-bows, and rocky-mountain indians, have a tradition in common with the dog-ribs, that they came originally from the westward, from a level country, where there was no winter, which produced trees, and large fruits, now unknown to them. it was inhabited also by many strange animals, amongst which there was a small one whose visage bore a striking resemblance to the human countenance. during their residence in this land, their ancestors were visited by a man who healed the sick, raised the dead, and performed many other miracles, enjoining them at the same time to lead good lives, and not to eat of the entrails of animals, nor to use the brains for dressing skins until after the third day; and never to leave the skulls of deer upon the ground within the reach of dogs and wolves, but to hang them carefully upon trees. no one knew from whence this good man came, or whither he went. they were driven from that land by the rising of the waters, and following the tracks of animals on the sea-shore, they directed their course to the northward. at length they came to a strait, which they crossed upon a raft, but the sea has since frozen, and they have never been able to return. these traditions are unknown to the chipewyans. the number of men and boys of the strong-bow nation who are capable of hunting, may amount to seventy. there are some other tribes who also speak dialects of the chipewyan, upon the upper branches of the rivière aux liards, such as the _nohhannies_ and the _tsillawdawhoot-dinneh_, or brushwood indians. they are but little known, but the latter are supposed occasionally to visit some of the establishments on peace river. having now communicated as briefly as i could the principal facts that came to our knowledge regarding the indians in this quarter, i shall resume the narrative of events at fort enterprise.--the month of march proved fine. the thermometer rose once to 24° above zero, and fell upon another day 49° below zero, but the mean was -11-1/2°. on the 23d the last of our winter's stock of deer's meat was expended, and we were compelled to issue a little pounded meat which we had reserved for making pemmican for summer use. our nets, which were set under the ice on the 15th, produced only two or three small fish daily. amongst these was the round fish, a species of coregonus, which we had not previously seen. on the following day two indians came with a message from the hook, the chief next to akaitcho in authority amongst the copper indians. his band was between west marten and great bear lakes, and he offered to provide a quantity of dried meat for us on the banks of the copper-mine river in the beginning of summer, provided we sent him goods and ammunition. it was in his power to do this without inconvenience, as he generally spends the summer months on the banks of the river, near the copper mountain; but we had no goods to spare, and i could not venture to send any part of our small stock of ammunition until i saw what the necessities of our own party required. i told them, however, that i would gladly receive either provisions or leather when we met, and would pay for them by notes on the north-west company's post; but to prevent any misunderstanding with mr. weeks, i requested them to take their winter's collection of furs to fort providence before they went to the copper-mine river. they assured me that the hook would watch anxiously for our passing, as he was unwell, and wished to consult the doctor. several circumstances having come lately to my knowledge that led me to suspect the fidelity of our interpreters, they were examined upon this subject. it appeared that in their intercourse with the indians they had contracted very fearful ideas of the danger of our enterprise, which augmented as the time of our departure drew near, and had not hesitated to express their dislike to the journey in strong terms amongst the canadians, who are accustomed to pay much deference to the opinions of an interpreter. but this was not all; i had reason to suspect they had endeavoured to damp the exertions of the indians, with the hope that the want of provision in the spring would put an end to our progress at once. st. germain, in particular, had behaved in a very equivocal way, since his journey to slave lake. he denied the principal parts of the charge in a very dogged manner, but acknowledged he had told the leader that we had not paid him the attention which a chief like him ought to have received; and that we had put a great affront on him in sending him only a small quantity of rum. an artful man like st. germain, possessing a flow of language, and capable of saying even what he confessed, had the means of poisoning the minds of the indians without committing himself by any direct assertion; and it is to be remarked, that unless mr. wentzel had possessed a knowledge of the copper indian language, we should not have learned what we did. although perfectly convinced of his baseness, i could not dispense with his services; and had no other resource but to give him a serious admonition, and desire him to return to his duty; after endeavouring to work upon his fears by an assurance, that i would certainly convey him to england for trial, if the expedition should be stopped through his fault. he replied, "it is immaterial to me where i lose my life, whether in england, or in accompanying you to the sea, for the whole party will perish." after this discussion, however, he was more circumspect in his conduct. on the 28th we received a small supply of meat from the indian lodges. they had now moved into a lake, about twelve miles from us, in expectation of the deer coming soon to the northward. on the 29th akaitcho arrived at the house, having been sent for to make some arrangements respecting the procuring of provision, and that we might learn what his sentiments were with regard to accompanying us on our future journey. next morning we had a conference, which i commenced by shewing him the charts and drawings that were prepared to be sent to england, and explaining fully our future intentions. he appeared much pleased at this mark of attention, and, when his curiosity was satisfied, began his speech by saying, that "although a vast number of idle rumours had been floating about the barren grounds during the winter," he was convinced that the representations made to him at fort providence regarding the purport of the expedition were perfectly correct. i next pointed out to him the necessity of our proceeding with as little delay as possible during the short period of the year that was fit for our operations, and that to do so it was requisite we should have a large supply of provisions at starting. he instantly admitted the force of these observations, and promised that he and his young men should do their utmost to comply with our desires: and afterwards, in answer to my questions, informed us that he would accompany the expedition to the mouth of the copper-mine river, or, if we did not meet with esquimaux there, for some distance along the coast; he was anxious, he said, to have an amicable interview with that people; and he further requested, that, in the event of our meeting with dog-ribs on the copper-mine river, we should use our influence to persuade them to live on friendly terms with his tribe. we were highly pleased to find his sentiments so favourable to our views, and, after making some minor arrangements, we parted, mutually content. he left us on the morning of the 31st, accompanied by augustus, who, at his request, went to reside for a few days at his lodge. on the 4th of april our men arrived with the last supply of goods from fort providence, the fruits of mr. back's arduous journey to the athabasca lake; and on the 17th belanger _le gros_ and belanger _le rouge_, for so our men discriminated them, set out for slave lake, with a box containing the journals of the officers, charts, drawings, observations, and letters addressed to the secretary of state for colonial affairs. they also conveyed a letter for governor williams, in which i requested that he would, if possible, send a schooner to wager bay with provisions and clothing to meet the exigencies of the party, should they succeed in reaching that part of the coast. connoyer, who was much tormented with biliary calculi, and had done little or no duty all the winter, was discharged at the same time, and sent down in company with an indian named the belly. the commencement of april was fine, and for several days a considerable thaw took place in the heat of the sun, which laying bare some of the lichens on the sides of the hills, produced a consequent movement of the rein-deer to the northward, and induced the indians to believe that the spring was already commencing. many of them, therefore, quitted the woods, and set their snares on the barren grounds near fort enterprise. two or three days of cold weather, however, towards the middle of the month, damped their hopes, and they began to say that another moon must elapse before the arrival of the wished-for season. in the mean time their premature departure from the woods, caused them to suffer from want of food, and we were in some degree involved in their distress. we received no supplies from the hunters, our nets produced but very few fish, and the pounded meat which we had intended to keep for summer use was nearly expended. our meals at this period were always scanty, and we were occasionally restricted to one in the day. the indian families about the house, consisting principally of women and children, suffered most. i had often requested them to move to akaitcho's lodge, where they were more certain of receiving supplies; but as most of them were sick or infirm, they did not like to quit the house, where they daily received medicines from dr. richardson, to encounter the fatigue of following the movements of a hunting camp. they cleared away the snow on the site of the autumn encampments to look for bones, deer's feet, bits of hide, and other offal. when we beheld them gnawing the pieces of hide, and pounding the bones, for the purpose of extracting some nourishment from them by boiling, we regretted our inability to relieve them, but little thought that we should ourselves be afterwards driven to the necessity of eagerly collecting these same bones a second time from the dunghill. at this time, to divert the attention of the men from their wants, we encouraged the practice of sliding down the steep bank of the river upon sledges. these vehicles descended the snowy bank with much velocity, and ran a great distance upon the ice. the officers joined in the sport, and the numerous overturns we experienced formed no small share of the amusement of the party; but on one occasion, when i had been thrown from my seat and almost buried in the snow, a fat indian woman drove her sledge over me, and sprained my knee severely. on the 18th at eight in the evening a beautiful halo appeared round the sun when it was about 8° high. the colours were prismatic, and very bright, the red next the sun. on the 21st the ice in the river was measured and found to be five feet thick, and in setting the nets in round rock lake, it was there ascertained to be six feet and a half thick, the water being six fathoms deep. the stomachs of some fish were at this time opened by dr. richardson, and found filled with insects which appear to exist in abundance under the ice during the winter. on the 22nd a moose-deer was killed at the distance of forty-five miles; st. germain went for it with a dog-sledge, and returned with unusual expedition on the morning of the third day. this supply was soon exhausted, and we passed the 27th without eating, with the prospect of fasting a day or two longer, when old keskarrah entered with the unexpected intelligence of having killed a deer. it was divided betwixt our own family and the indians, and during the night a seasonable supply arrived from akaitcho. augustus returned with the men who brought it, much pleased with the attention he had received from the indians during his visit to akaitcho. next day mr. wentzel set out with every man that we could spare from the fort, for the purpose of bringing meat from the indians as fast as it could be procured. dr. richardson followed them two days afterwards, to collect specimens of the rocks in that part of the country. on the same day the two belangers arrived from fort providence, having been only five days on the march from thence. the highest temperature in april was +40°, the lowest -32°, the mean +4°.6. the temperature of the rapid, examined on the 30th by messrs. back and hood, was 32° at the surface, 33° at the bottom. on the 7th of may, dr. richardson returned. he informed me that the rein-deer were again advancing to the northward, but that the leader had been joined by several families of old people, and that the daily consumption of provision at the indian tents was consequently great. this information excited apprehensions of being very scantily provided when the period of our departure should arrive. the weather in the beginning of may was fine and warm. on the 2nd some patches of sandy ground near the house were cleared of snow. on the 7th the sides of the hills began to appear bare, and on the 8th a large house-fly was seen. this interesting event spread cheerfulness through our residence and formed a topic of conversation for the rest of the day. on the 9th the approach of spring was still more agreeably confirmed by the appearance of a merganser and two gulls, and some loons, or arctic divers, at the rapid. this day, to reduce the labour of dragging meat to the house, the women and children and all the men, except four, were sent to live at the indian tents. the blue-berries, crow-berries, eye-berries, and cran-berries, which had been covered, and protected by the snow during the winter, might at this time be gathered in abundance, and proved indeed a valuable resource. the ground continued frozen, but the heat of the sun had a visible effect on vegetation; the sap thawed in the pine-trees, and dr. richardson informed me that the mosses were beginning to shoot, and the calyptræ of some of the jungermanniæ already visible. on the 11th mr. wentzel returned from the indian lodges, having made the necessary arrangements with akaitcho for the drying of meat for summer use, the bringing fresh meat to the fort and the procuring a sufficient quantity of the resin of the spruce fir, or as it is termed by the voyagers _gum_, for repairing the canoes previous to starting, and during the voyage. by my desire, he had promised payment to the indian women who should bring in any of the latter article, and had sent several of our own men to the woods to search for it. at this time i communicated to mr. wentzel the mode in which i meant to conduct the journey of the approaching summer. upon our arrival at the sea, i proposed to reduce the party to what would be sufficient to man two canoes, in order to lessen the consumption of provisions during our voyage, or journey along the coast; and as mr. wentzel had expressed a desire of proceeding no farther than the mouth of the copper-mine river, which was seconded by the indians, who wished him to return with them, i readily relieved his anxiety on this subject; the more so as i thought he might render greater service to us by making deposits of provision at certain points, than by accompanying us through a country which was unknown to him, and amongst a people with whom he was totally unacquainted. my intentions were explained to him in detail, but they were of course to be modified by circumstances. on the 14th a robin (_turdus migratorius_) appeared; this bird is hailed by the natives as the infallible precursor of warm weather. ducks and geese were also seen in numbers, and the rein-deer advanced to the northward. the merganser, (_mergus serrator_,) which preys upon small fish, was the first of the duck tribe that appeared; next came the teal, (_anas crecca_,) which lives upon small insects that abound in the waters at this season; and lastly the goose, which feeds upon berries and herbage. geese appear at cumberland house, in latitude 54°, usually about the 12th of april; at fort chipewyan, in latitude 59°, on the 25th of april; at slave lake, in latitude 61°, on the 1st of may; and at fort enterprise, in latitude 64° 28', on the 12th or 14th of the same month. on the 16th a minor chief amongst the copper indians, attended by his son, arrived from fort providence to consult dr. richardson. he was affected with snow-blindness, which was soon relieved by the dropping of a little laudanum into his eyes twice a day. most of our own men had been lately troubled with this complaint, but it always yielded in twenty or thirty hours to the same remedy. on the 21st all our men returned from the indians, and akaitcho was on his way to the fort. in the afternoon two of his young men arrived to announce his visit, and to request that he might be received with a salute and other marks of respect that he had been accustomed to on visiting fort providence in the spring. i complied with his desire although i regretted the expenditure of ammunition, and sent the young men away with the customary present of powder to enable him to return the salute, some tobacco, vermilion to paint their faces, a comb and a looking-glass. at eleven akaitcho arrived; at the first notice of his appearance the flag was hoisted at the fort, and upon his nearer approach, a number of muskets were fired by a party of our people, and returned by his young men. akaitcho, preceded by his standard-bearer, led the party, and advanced with a slow and stately step to the door where mr. wentzel and i received him. the faces of the party were daubed with vermilion, the old men having a spot on the right cheek, the young ones on the left. akaitcho himself was not painted. on entering he sat down on a chest, the rest placed themselves in a circle on the floor. the pipe was passed once or twice round, and in the mean time a bowl of spirits and water, and a present considerable for our circumstances of cloth, blankets, capots, shirts, _&c._, was placed on the floor for the chief's acceptance, and distribution amongst his people. akaitcho then commenced his speech, but i regret to say, that it was very discouraging, and indicated that he had parted with his good humour, at least since his march visit. he first inquired, whether, in the event of a passage by sea being discovered, we should come to his lands in any ship that might be sent? and being answered, that it was probable but not quite certain, that some one amongst us might come; he expressed a hope that some suitable present should be forwarded to himself and nation; "for," said he, "the great chief who commands where all the goods come from, must see from the drawings and descriptions of us and our country that we are a miserable people." i assured him that he would be remembered, provided he faithfully fulfilled his engagement with us. he next complained of the non-payment of my notes by mr. weeks, from which he apprehended that his own reward would be withheld. "if," said he, "your notes to such a trifling amount are not accepted, whilst you are within such a short distance, and can hold communication with the fort, it is not probable that the large reward which has been promised to myself and party, will be paid when you are far distant, on your way to your own country. it really appears to me," he continued, "as if both the companies consider your party as a third company, hostile to their interests, and that neither of them will pay the notes you give to the indians." afterwards, in the course of a long conference, he enumerated many other grounds of dissatisfaction; the principal of which were our want of attention to him as chief, the weakness of the rum formerly sent to him, the smallness of the present now offered, and the want of the chief's clothing, which he had been accustomed to receive at fort providence every spring. he concluded, by refusing to receive the goods now laid before him. in reply to these complaints it was stated that mr. weeks's conduct could not be properly discussed at such a distance from his fort; that no dependence ought to be placed on the vague reports that floated through the indian territory; that, for our part, although we had heard many stories to his (akaitcho's) disadvantage, we discredited them all; that the rum we had sent him, being what the great men in england were accustomed to drink, was of a milder kind, but, in fact, stronger than what he had been accustomed to receive; and that the distance we had come, and the speed with which we travelled, precluded us from bringing large quantities of goods like the traders; that this had been fully explained to him when he agreed to accompany us; and that, in consideration of his not receiving his usual spring outfit, his debts to the company had been cancelled, and a present, much greater than any he had ever received before, ordered to be got ready for his return. he was further informed, that we were much disappointed in not receiving any dried meat from him, an article indispensable for our summer voyage, and which, he had led us to believe there was no difficulty in procuring; and that, in fact, his complaints were so groundless, in comparison with the real injury we sustained from the want of supplies, that we were led to believe they were preferred solely for the purpose of cloaking his own want of attention to the terms of his engagement. he then shifted his ground, and stated, that if we endeavoured to make a voyage along the sea-coast we should inevitably perish; and he advised us strongly against persisting in the attempt. this part of his harangue being an exact transcript of the sentiments formerly expressed by our interpreters, induced us to conclude that they had prompted his present line of conduct, by telling him, that we had goods or rum concealed. he afterwards received a portion of our dinner, in the manner he had been accustomed to do, and seemed inclined to make up matters with us in the course of the evening, provided we added to the present offered to him.{14} being told, however, that this was impossible,{15} since we had already offered him all the rum we had, and every article of goods we could spare from our own equipment, his obstinacy was a little shaken, and he made some concessions, but deferred giving a final answer, until the arrival of humpy, his elder brother. the young men, however, did not choose to wait so long, and at night came for the rum, which we judged to be a great step towards a reconciliation. st. germain, the most intelligent of our two interpreters, and the one who had most influence with the indians, being informed that their defection was, in a great measure, attributed to the unguarded conversations he had held with them, and which he had in part acknowledged, exerted himself much, on the following day, in bringing about a change in their sentiments, and with some success. the young men, though they declined hunting, conducted themselves with the same good humour and freedom as formerly. akaitcho being, as he said, ashamed to shew himself, kept close in his tent all day. on the 24th, one of the women who accompanied us from athabasca, was sent down to fort providence, under charge of the old chief, who came some days before for medicine for his eyes. angelique and roulante, the other two women, having families, preferred accompanying the indians during their summer hunt. on the 25th, clothing, and other necessary articles, were issued to the canadians as their equipment for the ensuing voyage. two or three blankets, some cloth, iron work, and trinkets were reserved for distribution amongst the esquimaux on the sea-coast. laced dresses were given to augustus and junius. it is impossible to describe the joy that took possession of the latter on the receipt of this present. the happy little fellow burst into extatic laughter, as he surveyed the different articles of his gay habiliments[5]. [5] these men kept their dresses, and delighted in them. an indian chief, on the other hand, only appears once before the donor in the dress of ceremony which he receives, and then transfers it to some favourite in the tribe whom he desires to reward by this "robe of honour." in the afternoon humpy, the leader's elder brother; annoethai-yazzeh, another of his brothers; and one of our guides, arrived with the remainder of akaitcho's band; as also long-legs, brother to the hook, with three of his band. there were now in the encampment, thirty hunters, thirty-one women, and sixty children, in all one hundred and twenty-one of the copper-indian or red-knife tribe. the rest of the nation were with the hook on the lower part of the copper-mine river. annoethai-yazzeh is remarkable amongst the indians for the number of his descendants; he has eighteen children living by two wives, of whom sixteen were at the fort at this time. in the evening we had another formidable conference. the former complaints were reiterated, and we parted about midnight, without any satisfactory answer to my questions, as to when akaitcho would proceed towards the river, and where he meant to make provision for our march. i was somewhat pleased, however, to find, that humpy and annoethai-yazzeh censured their brother's conduct, and accused him of avarice. on the 26th the canoes were removed from the places where they had been deposited, as we judged that the heat of the atmosphere was now so great, as to admit of their being repaired, without risk of cracking the bark. we were rejoiced to find that two of them had suffered little injury from the frost during the winter. the bark of the third was considerably rent, but it was still capable of repair. the indians sat in conference in their tents all the morning; and in the afternoon, came into the house charged with fresh matter for discussion. soon after they had seated themselves, and the room was filled with the customary volume of smoke from their calumets, the goods which had been laid aside, were again presented to the leader; but he at once refused to distribute so small a quantity amongst his men, and complained that there were neither blankets, kettles, nor daggers, amongst them; and in the warmth of his anger, he charged mr. wentzel with having advised the distribution of all our goods to the canadians, and thus defrauding the indians of what was intended for them. mr. wentzel, of course, immediately repelled this injurious accusation, and reminded akaitcho again, that he had been told, on engaging to accompany us, that he was not to expect any goods until his return. this he denied with an effrontery that surprised us all, when humpy, who was present at our first interview at fort providence, declared that he heard us say, that no goods could be taken for the supply of the indians on the voyage; and the first guide added, "i do not expect any thing here, i have promised to accompany the white people to the sea, and i will, therefore, go, confidently relying upon receiving the stipulated reward on my return." akaitcho did not seem prepared to hear such declarations from his brothers, and instantly changing the subject, began to descant upon the treatment he had received from the traders in his concerns with them, with an asperity of language that bore more the appearance of menace than complaint. i immediately refused to discuss this topic, as foreign to our present business, and desired akaitcho to recall to memory, that he had told me on our first meeting, that he considered me the father of every person attached to the expedition, in which character it was surely my duty to provide for the comfort and safety of the canadians as well as the indians. the voyagers, he knew, had a long journey to perform, and would in all probability, be exposed to much suffering from cold on a coast destitute of wood; and, therefore, required a greater provision of clothing than was necessary for the indians, who, by returning immediately from the mouth of the river, would reach fort providence in august, and obtain their promised rewards. most of the indians appeared to assent to this argument, but akaitcho said, "i perceive the traders have deceived you; you should have brought more goods, but i do not blame you." i then told him, that i had brought from england only ammunition, tobacco, and spirits; and that being ignorant what other articles the indians required, we were dependent on the traders for supplies; but he must be aware, that every endeavour had been used on our parts to procure them, as was evinced by mr. back's journey to fort chipewyan. with respect to the ammunition and tobacco, we had been as much disappointed as themselves in not receiving them, but this was to be attributed to the neglect of those to whom they had been intrusted. this explanation seemed to satisfy him. after some minutes of reflection, his countenance became more cheerful, and he made inquiry, whether his party might go to either of the trading posts they chose on their return, and whether the hudson's bay company were rich, for they had been represented to him as a poor people? i answered him, that we really knew nothing about the wealth of either company, having never concerned ourselves with trade, but that all the traders appeared to us to be respectable. our thoughts, i added, are fixed solely on the accomplishment of the objects for which we came to the country. our success depends much on your furnishing us with provision speedily, that we may have all the summer to work; and if we succeed a ship will soon bring goods in abundance to the mouth of the copper-mine river. the indians talked together for a short time after this conversation, and then the leader made an application for two or three kettles and some blankets, to be added to the present to his young men; we were unable to spare him any kettles, but the officers promised to give a blanket each from their own beds. dinner was now brought in, and relieved us for a time from their importunity. the leading men, as usual, received each a portion from the table. when the conversation was resumed, the chief renewed his solicitations for goods, but it was now too palpable to be mistaken, that he aimed at getting every thing he possibly could, and leaving us without the means of making any presents to the esquimaux, or other indians we might meet. i resolved, therefore, on steadily refusing every request; and when he perceived that he could extort nothing more, he rose in an angry manner, and addressing his young men, said: "there are too few goods for me to distribute; those that mean to follow the white people to the sea may take them." this was an incautious speech, as it rendered it necessary for his party to display their sentiments. the guides, and most of the hunters, declared their readiness to go, and came forward to receive a portion of the present, which was no inconsiderable assortment. this relieved a weight of anxiety from my mind, and i did not much regard the leader's retiring in a very dissatisfied mood. the hunters then applied to mr. wentzel for ammunition, that they might hunt in the morning, and it was cheerfully given to them. the officers and men amused themselves at prison-bars, and other canadian games till two o'clock in the morning, and we were happy to observe the indians sitting in groups enjoying the sport. we were desirous of filling up the leisure moments of the canadians with amusements, not only for the purpose of enlivening their spirits, but also to prevent them from conversing upon our differences with the indians, which they must have observed. the exercise was also in a peculiar manner serviceable to mr. hood. ever ardent in his pursuits, he had, through close attention to his drawings and other avocations, confined himself too much to the house in winter, and his health was impaired by his sedentary habits. i could only take the part of a spectator in these amusements, being still lame from the hurt formerly alluded to. the sun now sank for so short a time below the horizon, that there was more light at midnight, than we enjoyed on some days at noon in the winter-time. on the 27th the hunters brought in two rein-deer. many of the indians attended divine service this day, and were attentive spectators of our addresses to the almighty. on the 28th i had a conversation with long-legs, whose arrival two days before has been mentioned. i acquainted him with the objects of our expedition, and our desire of promoting peace between his nation and the esquimaux, and learned from him, that his brother the hook was by this time on the copper-mine river with his party; and that, although he had little ammunition, yet it was possible he might have some provision collected before our arrival at his tents. i then decorated him with a{16} medal similar to those given to the other chiefs. he was highly pleased with this mark of our regard, and promised to do every thing for us in his power. akaitcho came in during the latter part of our conversation, with a very cheerful countenance. jealousy of the hook, and a knowledge that the sentiments of the young men differed from his own, with respect to the recent discussions, had combined to produce this change in his conduct, and next morning he took an opportunity of telling me that i must not think the worse of him for his importunities. it was their custom, he said, to do so, however strange it might appear to us, and he, as the leader of his party, had to beg for them all; but as he saw we had not deceived him by concealing any of our goods, and that we really had nothing left, he should ask for no more. he then told me that he would set out for the river as soon as the state of the country admitted of travelling. the snow, he remarked, was still too deep for sledges to the northward, and the moss too wet to make fires. he was seconded in this opinion by long-legs, whom i was the more inclined to believe, knowing that he was anxious to rejoin his family as soon as possible. akaitcho now accepted the dress he had formerly refused, and next day clothed himself in another new suit, which he had received from us in the autumn. ever since his arrival at the fort, he had dressed meanly, and pleaded poverty; but, perceiving that nothing more could be gained by such conduct, he thought proper to shew some of his riches to the strangers who were daily arriving. in the afternoon, however, he made another, though a covert, attack upon us. he informed me that two old men had just arrived at the encampment with a little pounded meat which they wished to barter. it was evident that his intention was merely to discover whether we had any goods remaining or not. i told him that we had nothing at present to give for meat, however much we stood in need of it, but that we would pay for it by notes on the north-west company, in any kind of goods they pleased. after much artful circumlocution, and repeated assurances of the necessities of the men who owned the meat, he introduced them, and they readily agreed to give us the provision on our own terms. i have deemed it my duty to give the details of these tedious conversations, to point out to future travellers, the art with which these indians pursue their objects, their avaricious nature, and the little reliance that can be placed upon them when their interests jar with their promises. in these respects they agree with other tribes of northern indians; but as has been already mentioned, their dispositions are not cruel, and their hearts are readily moved by the cry of distress. the average temperature for may was nearly 32°, the greatest heat was 68°, the lowest 8°. we had constant daylight at the end of the month, and geese and ducks were abundant, indeed rather too much so, for our hunters were apt to waste upon them the ammunition that was given to them for killing deer. uncertain as to the length of time that it might be required to last, we did not deem a goose of equal value with the charge it cost to procure it. dr. richardson and mr. back having visited the country to the northward of the slave rock, and reported that they thought we might travel over it, i signified my intention of sending the first party off on monday the 4th of june. i was anxious to get the indians to move on before, but they lingered about the house, evidently with the intention of picking up such articles as we might deem unnecessary to take. when akaitcho was made acquainted with my purpose of sending away a party of men, he came to inform me that he would appoint two hunters to accompany them, and at the same time requested that dr. richardson, or as he called him, the medicine chief, might be sent with his own band. these indians set a great value upon medicine, and made many demands upon dr. richardson on the prospect of his departure. he had to make up little packets, of the different articles in his chest, not only for the leader, but for each of the minor chiefs, who carefully placed them in their medicine bags, noting in their memories the directions he gave for their use. the readiness with which their requests for medical assistance were complied with, was considered by them as a strong mark of our good intentions towards them; and the leader often remarked, that they owed much to our kindness in that respect; that formerly numbers had died every year, but that not a life had been lost since our arrival amongst them. in the present instance, however, the leader's request could not be complied with. dr. richardson had volunteered to conduct the first party to the copper-mine river, whilst the rest of the officers remained with me to the last moment, to complete our astronomical observations at the house. he, therefore, informed the leader that he would remain stationary at point lake until the arrival of the whole party, where he might be easily consulted if any of his people fell sick, as it was in the neighbourhood of their hunting-grounds. on the 2nd the stores were packed up in proper-sized bales for the journey. i had intended to send the canoes by the first party, but they were not yet repaired, the weather not being sufficiently warm for the men to work constantly at them, without the hazard of breaking the bark. this day one of the new trading guns, which we had recently received from fort chipewyan, burst in the hands of a young indian; fortunately, however, without doing him any material injury. this was the sixth accident of the kind which had occurred since our departure from slave lake. surely this deficiency in the quality of the guns, which hazards the lives of so many poor indians, requires the serious consideration of the principals of the trading companies. on the 4th, at three in the morning, the party under the charge of dr. richardson started. it consisted of fifteen voyagers, three of them conducting dog sledges, baldhead and basil, two indian hunters with their wives, akaiyazzeh{17} a sick indian and his wife, together with angelique and roulante; so that the party amounted to twenty-three exclusive of children. the burdens of the men were about eighty pounds each, exclusive of their personal baggage, which amounted to nearly as much more. most of them dragged their loads upon sledges, but a few preferred carrying them on their backs. they set off in high spirits. after breakfast the indians struck their tents, and the women, the boys, and the old men who had to drag sledges, took their departure. it was three p.m., however, before akaitcho and the hunters left us. we issued thirty balls to the leader, and twenty to each of the hunters and guides, with a proportionate quantity of powder, and gave them directions to make all the provision they could on their way to point lake. i then desired mr. wentzel to inform akaitcho, in the presence of the other indians, that i wished a deposit of provision to be made at this place previous to next september, as a resource should we return this way. he and the guides not only promised to see this done, but suggested that it would be more secure if placed in the cellar, or in mr. wentzel's room. the dog-ribs, they said, would respect any thing that was in the house, as knowing it to belong to the white people. at the close of this conversation akaitcho exclaimed with a smile, "i see now that you have really no goods left, (the rooms and stores being completely stripped,) and therefore i shall not trouble you any more, but use my best endeavours to prepare provision for you, and i think if the animals are tolerably numerous, we may get plenty before you can embark on the river." whilst the indians were packing up this morning, one of the women absconded. she belongs to the dog-rib tribe, and had been taken by force from her relations by her present husband, who treated her very harshly. the fellow was in my room when his mother announced the departure of his wife, and received the intelligence with great composure, as well as the seasonable reproof of akaitcho. "you are rightly served," said the chief to him, "and will now have to carry all your things yourself, instead of having a wife to drag them." one hunter remained after the departure of the other indians. on the 5th the dog-rib woman presented herself on a hill at some distance from the house, but was afraid to approach us, until the interpreter went and told her that neither we nor the indian who remained with us, would prevent her from going where she pleased. upon this she came to solicit a fire-steel and kettle. she was at first low-spirited, from the non-arrival of a country-woman who had promised to elope with her, but had probably been too narrowly watched. the indian hunter, however, having given her some directions as to the proper mode of joining her own tribe, she became more composed, and ultimately agreed to adopt his advice of proceeding at once to fort providence, instead of wandering about the country all summer in search of them, at the imminent hazard of being starved. on the 7th the wind, shifting to the southward, dispersed the clouds which had obscured the sky for several days, and produced a change of temperature under which the snow rapidly disappeared. the thermometer rose to 73°, many flies came forth, musquitoes shewed themselves for the first time, and one swallow made its appearance. we were the more gratified with these indications of summer, that st. germain was enabled to commence the repair of the canoes, and before night had completed the two which had received the least injury. augustus killed two deer to-day. on the 10th the dip of the magnetic needle being observed, shewed a decrease of 22' 44" since last autumn. the repairs of the third canoe were finished this evening. the snow was now confined to the bases of the hills, and our indian hunter told us the season was early. the operations of nature, however, seemed to us very tardy. we were eager to be gone, and dreaded the lapse of summer, before the indians would allow it had begun. on the 11th the geese and ducks had left the vicinity of fort enterprise, and proceeded to the northward. some young ravens and whiskey-johns made their appearance at this time. on the 12th winter river was nearly cleared of ice, and on the 13th the men returned, having left dr. richardson on the borders of point lake. dr. richardson informed me by letter that the snow was deeper in many parts near his encampment than it had been at any time last winter near fort enterprise, and that the ice on point lake had scarcely begun to decay. although the voyagers were much fatigued on their arrival, and had eaten nothing for the last twenty-four hours, they were very cheerful, and expressed a desire to start with the remainder of the stores next morning. the dog-rib woman, who had lingered about the house since the 6th of june, took alarm at the approach of our men, thinking, perhaps, that they were accompanied by indians, and ran off. she was now provided with a hatchet, kettle, and fire-steel, and would probably go at once to fort providence, in the expectation of meeting with some of her countrymen before the end of summer. chapter x[6]. [6] it will be seen hereafter that i had the misfortune to lose my portfolio containing my journals from fort enterprise to the 14th of september. but the loss has been amply redeemed by my brother officers' journals, from which the narrative up to that period has been chiefly compiled. departure from fort enterprise--navigation of the copper-mine river--visit to the copper mountain--interview with the esquimaux--departure of the indian hunters--arrangements made with them for our return. 1821. june 14. the trains for the canoes having been finished during the night, the party attached to them commenced their journey at ten this morning. each canoe was dragged by four men assisted by two dogs. they took the route of winter lake, with the intention of following, although more circuitous, the water-course as far as practicable, it being safer for the canoes than travelling over land. after their departure, the remaining stores, the instruments, and our small stock of dried meat, amounting only to eighty pounds, were distributed equally among hepburn, three canadians, and the two esquimaux; with this party and two indian hunters, we quitted fort enterprise, most sincerely rejoicing that the long-wished-for day had arrived, when we were to proceed towards the final object of the expedition. we left in one of the rooms a box, containing a journal of the occurrences up to this date, the charts and some drawings, which was to be conveyed to fort chipewyan by mr. wentzel, on his return from the sea, and thence to be sent to england. the room was blocked up, and, by the advice of mr. wentzel, a drawing representing a man holding a dagger in a threatening attitude, was affixed to the door, to deter any indians from breaking it open. we directed our course towards the dog-rib rock, but as our companions were loaded with the weight of near one hundred and eighty pounds each, we of necessity proceeded at a slow pace. the day was extremely warm, and the musquitoes, whose attacks had hitherto been feeble, issued forth in swarms from the marshes, and were very tormenting. having walked five miles we encamped near a small cluster of pines about two miles from the dog-rib rock. the canoe party had not been seen since they set out. our hunters went forward to marten lake, intending to wait for us at a place where two deer were deposited. at nine p.m. the temperature of the air was 63°. we resumed our march at an early hour, and crossed several lakes which lay in our course, as the ice enabled the men to drag their burdens on trains formed of sticks and deers' horns, with more ease than they could carry them on their backs. we were kept constantly wet by this operation, as the ice had broken near the shores of the lakes, but this was little regarded as the day was unusually warm: the temperature at two p.m. being at 82-1/2°. at marten lake we joined the canoe party, and encamped with them. we had the mortification of learning from our hunters that the meat they had put _en cache_ here, had been destroyed by the wolverenes, and we had in consequence, to furnish the supper from our scanty stock of dried meat. the wind changed from s.e. to n.e. in the evening, and the weather became very cold, the thermometer being at 43° at nine p.m. the few dwarf birches we could collect afforded fire insufficient to keep us warm, and we retired under the covering of our blankets as soon as the supper was despatched. the n.e. breeze rendered the night so extremely cold, that we procured but little sleep, having neither fire nor shelter; for though we carried our tents, we had been forced to leave the tent-poles which we could not now replace; we therefore gladly recommenced the journey at five in the morning, and travelled through the remaining part of the lake on the ice. its surface being quite smooth, the canoes were dragged along expeditiously by the dogs, and the rest of the party had to walk very quick to keep pace with them, which occasioned many severe falls. by the time we had reached the end of the lake, the wind had increased to a perfect gale, and the atmosphere was so cold that we could not proceed further with the canoes without the risk of breaking the bark, and seriously injuring them: we therefore crossed winter river in them, and put up in a well-sheltered place on a ridge of sand hills; but as the stock of provision was scanty, we determined on proceeding as quick as possible, and leaving the canoe-party under the charge of mr. wentzel. we parted from them in the afternoon, and first directed our course towards a range of hills, where we expected to find antonio fontano, who had separated from us in the morning. in crossing towards these hills i fell through the ice into the lake, with my bundle on my shoulders, but was soon extricated without any injury; and mr. back, who left us to go in search of the straggler, met with a similar accident in the evening. we put up on a ridge of sand hills, where we found some pines, and made a large fire to apprize mr. back and fontano of our position. st. germain having killed a deer in the afternoon, we received an acceptable supply of meat. the night was stormy and very cold. at five the next morning, our men were sent in different directions after our absent companions; but as the weather was foggy, we despaired of finding them, unless they should chance to hear the muskets our people were desired to fire. they returned, however, at ten, bringing intelligence of them. i went immediately with hepburn to join mr. back, and directed mr. hood to proceed with the canadians, and halt with them at the spot where the hunters had killed a deer. though mr. back was much fatigued he set off with me immediately, and in the evening we rejoined our friends on the borders of the big lake. the indians informed us that fontano only remained a few hours with them, and then continued his journey. we had to oppose a violent gale and frequent snow-storms through the day, which unseasonable weather caused the temperature to descend below the freezing point this evening. the situation of our encampment being bleak, and our fuel stunted green willows, we passed a very cold and uncomfortable night. _june 18_.--though the breeze was moderate this morning, the air was piercingly keen. when on the point of starting, we perceived mr. wentzel's party coming, and awaited his arrival to learn whether the canoes had received any injury during the severe weather of yesterday. finding they had not, we proceeded to get upon the ice on the lake, which could not be effected without walking up to the waist in water, for some distance from its borders. we had not the command of our feet in this situation, and the men fell often; poor junius broke through the ice with his heavy burden on his back, but fortunately was not hurt. this lake is extensive, and large arms branch from its main course in different directions. at these parts we crossed the projecting points of land, and on each occasion had to wade as before, which so wearied every one, that we rejoiced when we reached its north side and encamped, though our resting-place was a bare rock. we had the happiness of finding fontano at this place. the poor fellow had passed the three preceding days without tasting food, and was exhausted by anxiety and hunger. his sufferings were considered to have been a sufficient punishment for his imprudent conduct in separating from us, and i only admonished him to be more cautious in future. having received information that the hunters had killed a deer, we sent three men to fetch the meat, which was distributed between our party and the canoe-men who had been encamped near to us. the thermometer at three p.m. was 46°, at nine 34°. we commenced the following day by crossing a lake about four miles in length, and then passed over a succession of rugged hills for nearly the same distance. the men being anxious to reach some pine-trees, which they had seen on their former journey, walked a quick pace, though they were suffering from swelled legs and rheumatic pains; we could not, however, attain the desired point, and therefore encamped on the declivity of a hill, which sheltered us from the wind; and used the rein-deer moss for fuel, which afforded us more warmth than we expected. several patches of snow were yet remaining on the surrounding hills. the thermometer varied to-day between 55° and 45°. on the 20th of june we began our march by crossing a small lake, not without much risk, as the surface of the ice was covered with water to the depth of two feet, and there were many holes into which we slipped, in spite of our efforts to avoid them. a few of the men, being fearful of attempting the traverse with their heavy loads, walked round the eastern end of the lake. the parties met on the sandy ridge, which separates the streams that fall into winter lake from those that flow to the northward; and here we killed three deer. near the base of this ridge we crossed a small but rapid stream, in which there is a remarkable cascade of about fifty feet. some indians joined us here, and gave information respecting the situation of dr. richardson's tent, which our hunters considered was sufficient for our guidance, and therefore proceeded as quickly as they could. we marched a few miles farther in the evening, and encamped among some pines; but the comfort of a good fire did not compensate for the torment we suffered from the host of musquitoes at this spot. the temperature was 52°. we set off next morning at a very early hour. the men took the course of point lake, that they might use their sledges, but the officers pursued the nearest route by land to dr. richardson's tent, which we reached at eleven a.m. it was on the western side of an arm of the lake and near the part through which the copper-mine river runs. our men arrived soon after us, and in the evening mr. wentzel and his party, with the canoes in excellent condition. they were much jaded by their fatiguing journey and several were lame from swellings of the lower extremities. the ice on the lake was still six or seven feet thick, and there was no appearance of its decay except near the edges; and as it was evident that, by remaining here until it should be removed, we might lose every prospect of success in our undertaking, i determined on dragging our stores along its surface, until we should come to a part of the river where we could embark; and directions were given this evening for each man to prepare a train for the conveyance of his portion of the stores. i may remark here, as a proof of the strong effect of radiation from the earth in melting the ice, that the largest holes in the ice were always formed at the base of the high and steep cliffs, which abound on the borders of this lake. we found akaitcho and the hunters encamped here, but their families, and the rest of the tribe, had gone off two days before to the beth-see-to, a large lake to the northward, where they intended passing the summer. long-legs and keskarrah had departed, to desire the hook to collect as much meat as he could against our arrival at his lodge. we were extremely distressed to learn from dr. richardson, that akaitcho and his party had expended all the ammunition they had received at fort enterprise, without having contributed any supply of provision. the doctor had, however, through the assistance of two hunters he kept with him, prepared two hundred pounds of dried meat, which was now our sole dependance for the journey. on the following morning i represented to akaitcho that we had been greatly disappointed by his conduct, which was so opposite to the promise of exertion he had made, on quitting fort enterprise. he offered many excuses, but finding they were not satisfactory, admitted that the greater part of the ammunition had been given to those who accompanied the women to the beth-see-to, and promised to behave better in future. i then told him, that i intended in future to give them ammunition only in proportion to the meat which was brought in, and that we should commence upon that plan, by supplying him with fifteen balls, and each of the hunters with ten. the number of our hunters was now reduced to five, as two of the most active declined going any further, their father, who thought himself dying, having solicited them to remain and close his eyes. these five were furnished with ammunition, and sent forward to hunt on the south border of the lake, with directions to place any meat they might procure near the edge of the lake, and set up marks to guide us to the spots. akaitcho, his brother, the guide, and three other men, remained to accompany us. we were much surprised to perceive an extraordinary difference in climate in so short an advance to the northward as fifty miles. the snow here was lying in large patches on the hills. the dwarf-birch and willows were only just beginning to open their buds, which had burst forth at fort enterprise many days before our departure. vegetation seemed to be three weeks or a month later here than at that place. we had heavy showers of rain through the night of the 22d, which melted the snow, and visibly wasted the ice. on the 23d, the men were busily employed in making their trains, and in pounding the meat for pemmican. the situation of the encampment was ascertained, latitude 65° 12' 40" n., longitude 113° 8' 25" w., and the variation 43° 4' 20" e. the arrangements being completed, we purposed commencing our journey next morning, but the weather was too stormy to venture upon the lake with the canoes. in the afternoon a heavy fall of snow took place, succeeded by sleet and rain. the north-east gale continued, but the thermometer rose to 39°. _june 25_.--the wind having abated in the night, we prepared for starting at an early hour. the three canoes were mounted on sledges, and nine men were appointed to conduct them, having the assistance of two dogs to each canoe. the stores and provisions were distributed equally among the rest of our men, except a few small articles which the indians carried. the provision consisted of only two bags of pemmican, two of pounded meat, five of suet, and two small bundles of dried provision, together with fresh meat sufficient for our supper at night. it was gratifying to witness the readiness with which the men prepared for and commenced a journey, which threatened to be so very laborious, as each of them had to drag upwards of one hundred and eighty pounds on his sledge. our course led down the main channel of the lake, which varied in breadth from half a mile to three miles; but we proceeded at a slow pace, as the snow, which fell last night, and still lay on the ice, very much impeded the sledges. many extensive arms branched off on the north side of this channel, and it was bounded on the south by a chain of lofty islands. the hills on both sides rose to six or seven hundred feet, and high steep cliffs were numerous. clusters of pines were occasionally seen in the valleys. we put up, at eight p.m., in a spot which afforded us but a few twigs for fuel. the party was much fatigued, and several of the men were affected by an inflammation on the inside of the thigh attended with hardness and swelling. the distance made to-day was six miles. we started at ten next morning. the day was extremely hot, and the men were soon jaded; their lameness increased very much, and some not previously affected began to complain. the dogs too shewed symptoms of great weakness, and one of them stretched himself obstinately on the ice, and was obliged to be released from the harness. we were, therefore, compelled to encamp at an early hour, having come only four miles. the sufferings of the people in this early stage of our journey were truly discouraging to them, and very distressing to us, whose situation was comparatively easy. i, therefore, determined on leaving the third canoe, which had been principally carried to provide against any accident to the others. we should thus gain three men, to lighten the loads of those who were most lame, and an additional dog for each of the other canoes. it was accordingly properly secured on a stage erected for the purpose near the encampment. dried meat was issued for supper, but in the course of the evening the indians killed two deer, for which we immediately sent. the channel of the lake through which we had passed to-day was bounded on both sides by islands of considerable height, presenting bold and rugged scenery. we were informed by our guide, that a large body of the lake lies to the northward of a long island which we passed. another deer was killed next morning, but as the men breakfasted off it before they started, the additional weight was not materially felt. the burdens of the men being considerably lightened by the arrangements of last evening, the party walked at the rate of one mile and three quarters an hour until the afternoon, when our pace was slackened, as the ice was more rough, and our lame companions felt their sores very galling. at noon we passed a deep bay on the south side, which is said to receive a river. throughout the day's march the hills on each side of the lake bore a strong resemblance, in height and form, to those about fort enterprise. we encamped on the north main shore, among some spruce trees, having walked eight miles and a half. three or four fish were caught with lines through holes, which the water had worn in the ice. we perceived a light westerly current at these places. it rained heavily during the night, and this was succeeded by a dense fog on the morning of the 28th. being short of provisions we commenced our journey, though the points of land were not discernible beyond a short distance. the surface of the ice, being honeycombed by the recent rains, presented innumerable sharp points, which tore our shoes and lacerated the feet at every step. the poor dogs, too, marked their path with their blood. in the evening the atmosphere became clear, and, at five p.m., we reached the rapid by which point lake communicates with red-rock lake. this rapid is only one hundred yards wide, and we were much disappointed at finding the copper-mine river such an inconsiderable stream. the canoes descended the rapid, but the cargoes were carried across the peninsula, and placed again on the sledges, as the next lake was still frozen. we passed an extensive arm, branching to the eastward, and encamped just below it, on the western bank, among spruce pines, having walked six miles of direct distance. the rolled stones on the beach are principally red clay slate, hence its indian appellation, which we have retained. we continued our journey at the usual hour next morning. at noon the variation was observed to be 47° east. our attention was afterwards directed to some pine branches, scattered on the ice, which proved to be marks placed by our hunters, to guide us to the spot where they had deposited the carcasses of two small deer. this supply was very seasonable, and the men cheerfully dragged the additional weight. akaitcho, judging from the appearance of the meat, thought it had been placed here three days ago, and that the hunters were considerably in advance. we put up at six p.m., near the end of the lake, having come twelve miles and three quarters, and found the channel open by which it is connected with the rock-nest lake. a river was pointed out, bearing south from our encampment, which is said to rise near great marten lake. red-rock lake is in general narrow, its shelving banks are well clothed with wood, and even the hills, which attain an elevation of four hundred or five hundred feet, are ornamented half way up, with stunted pines. on june 30, the men having gummed the canoes, embarked with their burdens to descend the river; but we accompanied the indians about five miles across a neck of land, when we also embarked. the river was about two hundred yards wide, and its course being uninterrupted, we cherished a sanguine hope of now getting on more speedily, until we perceived that the waters of rock-nest lake were still bound by ice, and that recourse must again be had to the sledges. the ice was much decayed, and the party were exposed to great risk of breaking through in making the traverse. in one part we had to cross an open channel in the canoes, and in another were compelled to quit the lake, and make a portage along the land. when the party had got upon the ice again, our guide evinced much uncertainty as to the route. he first directed us towards the west end of the lake; but when we had nearly gained that point, he discovered a remarkable rock to the north-east, named by the indians the rock-nest, and then recollected that the river ran at its base. our course was immediately changed to that direction, but the traverse we had then to make was more dangerous than the former one. the ice cracked under us at every step, and the party were obliged to separate widely to prevent accidents. we landed at the first point we could approach, but having found an open channel close to the shore, were obliged to ferry the goods across on pieces of ice. the fresh meat being expended we had to make another inroad on our pounded meat. the evening was very warm, and the musquitoes numerous. a large fire was made to apprize the hunters of our advance. the scenery of rock-nest lake is picturesque, its shores are rather low, except at the rock's nest, and two or three eminences on the eastern side. the only wood is the pine, which is twenty or thirty feet high, and about one foot in diameter. our distance to-day was six miles. _july 1_.--our guide directed us to proceed towards a deep bay on the north side of the lake, where he supposed we should find the river. in consequence of the bad state of the ice, we employed all the different modes of travelling we had previously followed in attaining this place; and, in crossing a point of land, had the misfortune to lose one of the dogs, which set off in pursuit of some rein-deer. arriving at the bay, we only found a stream that fell into it from the north-east, and looked in vain for the copper-mine river. this circumstance confused the guide, and he confessed that he was now doubtful of the proper route; we, therefore, halted, and despatched him, with two men, to look for the river from the top of the high hills near the rock-nest. during this delay a slight injury was repaired, which one of the canoes had received. we were here amused by the sight of a wolf chasing two rein-deer on the ice. the pursuer being alarmed at the sight of our men, gave up the chase when near to the hindmost, much to our regret, for we were calculating upon the chance of sharing in his capture. at four p.m. our men returned, with the agreeable information that they had seen the river flowing at the base of the rock-nest. the canoes and stores were immediately placed on the ice, and dragged thither; we then embarked, but soon had to cut through a barrier of drift ice that blocked up the way. we afterwards descended two strong rapids, and encamped near the discharge of a small stream which flows from an adjoining lake. the copper-mine river, at this point, is about two hundred yards wide, and ten feet deep, and flows very rapidly over a rocky bottom. the scenery of its banks is picturesque, the hills shelve to the water-side, and are well covered with wood, and the surface of the rocks is richly ornamented with lichens. the indians say that the same kind of country prevails as far as mackenzie's river in this parallel; but that the land to the eastward is perfectly barren. akaitcho and one of the indians killed two deer, which were immediately sent for. two of the hunters arrived in the night, and we learned that their companions, instead of being in advance, as we supposed, were staying at the place where we first found the river open. they had only seen our fires last evening, and had sent to examine who we were. the circumstance of having passed them was very vexatious, as they had three deer _en cache_, at their encampment. however, an indian was sent to desire those who remained to join us, and bring the meat. we embarked at nine a.m. on july 2nd, and descended a succession of strong rapids for three miles. we were carried along with extraordinary rapidity, shooting over large stones, upon which a single stroke would have been destructive to the canoes; and we were also in danger of breaking them, from the want of the long poles which lie along their bottoms and equalize their cargoes, as they plunged very much, and on one occasion the first canoe was almost filled with the waves. but there was no receding after we had once launched into the stream, and our safety depended on the skill and dexterity of the bowmen and steersmen. the banks of the river here are rocky, and the scenery beautiful; consisting of gentle elevations and dales wooded to the edge of the stream, and flanked on both sides at the distance of three or four miles by a range of round-backed barren hills, upwards of six hundred feet high. at the foot of the rapids the high lands recede to a greater distance, and the river flows with a more gentle current, in a wider channel, through a level and open country consisting of alluvial sand. in one place the passage was blocked up by drift ice, still deeply covered with snow. a channel for the canoes was made for some distance with the hatchets and poles; but on reaching the more compact part, we were under the necessity of transporting the canoes and cargoes across it; an operation of much hazard, as the snow concealed the numerous holes which the water had made in the ice. this expansion of the river being mistaken by the guide for a lake, which he spoke of as the last on our route to the sea, we supposed that we should have no more ice to cross, and therefore encamped after passing through it, to fit the canoes properly for the voyage, and to provide poles, which are not only necessary to strengthen them when placed in the bottom, but essentially requisite for the safe management of them in dangerous rapids. the guide began afterwards to doubt whether the lake he meant was not further on, and he was sent with two men to examine into the fact, who returned in the evening with the information of its being below us, but that there was an open channel through it. this day was very sultry, and several plants appeared in flower. the men were employed in repairing their canoes to a late hour, and commenced very early next morning, as we were desirous of availing ourselves of every part of this favourable weather. the hunters arrived in the course of the night. it appeared that the dog which escaped from us two days ago came into the vicinity of their encampment, howling piteously; seeing him without his harness, they came to the hasty conclusion that our whole party had perished in a rapid; and throwing away part of their baggage, and leaving the meat behind them, they set off with the utmost haste to join long-legs. our messenger met them in their flight, but too far advanced to admit of their returning for the meat. akaitcho scolded them heartily for their thoughtlessness in leaving the meat, which we so much wanted. they expressed their regret, and being ashamed of their panic, proposed to remedy the evil as much as possible by going forward, without stopping, until they came to a favourable spot for hunting, which they expected to do about thirty or forty miles below our present encampment. akaitcho accompanied them, but previous to setting off he renewed his charge that we should be on our guard against the bears, which was occasioned by the hunters having fired at one this morning as they were descending a rapid in their canoe. as their small canoes would only carry five persons, two of the hunters had to walk in turns along the banks. in our rambles round the encampment, we witnessed with pleasure the progress which vegetation had made within the few last warm days; most of the trees had put forth their leaves, and several flowers ornamented the moss-covered ground; many of the smaller summer birds were observed in the woods, and a variety of ducks, gulls, and plovers, sported on the banks of the river. it is about three hundred yards wide at this part, is deep and flows over a bed of alluvial sand. we caught some trout of considerable size with our lines, and a few white fish in the nets, which maintained us, with a little assistance from the pemmican. the repair of our canoes was completed this evening. before embarking i issued an order that no rapid should in future be descended until the bowman had examined it, and decided upon its being safe to run. wherever the least danger was to be apprehended, or the crew had to disembark for the purpose of lightening the canoe, the ammunition, guns and instruments, were always to be put out and carried along the bank, that we might be provided with the means of subsisting ourselves, in case of any accident befalling the canoes. the situation of our encampment was ascertained to be 65° 43' 28" n., longitude 114° 26' 45" w., and the variation 42° 17' 22" e. at four in the morning of july 4th we embarked and descended a succession of very agitated rapids, but took the precaution of landing the articles mentioned yesterday, wherever there appeared any hazard; notwithstanding all our precautions the leading canoe struck with great force against a stone, and the bark was split, but this injury was easily repaired, and we regretted only the loss of time. at eleven we came to an expansion of the river where the current ran with less force, and an accumulation of drift ice had, in consequence, barred the channel; over this the canoes and cargoes were carried. the ice in many places adhered to the banks, and projected in wide ledges several feet thick over the stream, which had hollowed them out beneath. on one occasion as the people were embarking from one of these ledges, it suddenly gave way, and three men were precipitated into the water, but were rescued without further damage than a sound ducking, and the canoe fortunately (and narrowly) escaped being crushed. perceiving one of the indians sitting on the east bank of the river, we landed, and having learned from him that akaitcho and the hunters had gone in pursuit of a herd of musk oxen, we encamped, having come twenty-four miles and a half. in the afternoon they brought us the agreeable intelligence of having killed eight cows, of which four were full grown. all the party were immediately despatched to bring in this seasonable supply. a young cow, irritated by the firing of the hunters, ran down to the river, and passed close to me when walking at a short distance from the tents. i fired and wounded it, when the animal instantly turned, and ran at me, but i avoided its fury by jumping aside and getting upon an elevated piece of ground. in the mean time some people came from the tents, and it took to flight. the musk oxen, like the buffalo, herd together in bands, and generally frequent the barren grounds during the summer months, keeping near the rivers, but retire to the woods in winter. they seem to be less watchful than most other wild animals, and when grazing are not difficult to approach, provided the hunters go against the wind; when two or three men get so near a herd as to fire at them from different points, these animals instead of separating or running away, huddle closer together, and several are generally killed; but if the wound is not mortal they become enraged and dart in the most furious manner at the hunters, who must be very dextrous to evade them. they can defend themselves by their powerful horns against the wolves and bears, which, as the indians say, they not unfrequently kill. the musk oxen feed on the same substances with the rein-deer, and the prints of the feet of these two animals are so much alike, that it requires the eye of an experienced hunter to distinguish them. the largest killed by us did not exceed in weight three hundred pounds. the flesh has a musky disagreeable flavour, particularly when the animal is lean, which unfortunately for us was the case with all that we now killed. during this day's march the river varied in breadth from one hundred to two hundred feet, and except in two open spaces, a very strong current marked a deep descent the whole way. it flows over a bed of gravel, of which also its immediate banks are composed. near to our encampment it is bounded by cliffs of fine sand from one hundred to two hundred feet high. sandy plains extend on a level with the summit of these cliffs, and at the distance of six or seven miles are terminated by ranges of hills eight hundred or one thousand feet high. the grass on these plains affords excellent pasturage for the musk oxen, and they generally abound here. the hunters added two more to our stock in the course of the night. as we had now more meat than the party could consume fresh, we delayed our voyage next day to dry it. the hunters were supplied with more ammunition, and sent forward; but akaitcho, his brother, and another indian, remained with us. it may here be proper to mention, that the officers had treated akaitcho more distantly since our departure from point lake, to mark their opinion of his misconduct. the diligence in hunting, however, which he had evinced at this place, induced us to receive him more familiarly when he came to the tent this evening. during our conversation he endeavoured to excite suspicions in our minds against the hook, by saying, "i am aware that you consider me the worst man of my nation; but i know the hook to be a great rogue, and, i think he will disappoint you." on the morning of the 6th we embarked, and descended a series of rapids, having twice unloaded the canoes where the water was shallow. after passing the mouth of the fairy[7] lake river the rapids ceased. the main stream was then about three hundred yards wide, and generally deep, though, in one part, the channel was interrupted by several sandy banks, and low alluvial islands covered with willows. it flows between banks of sand thinly wooded, and as we advanced the barren hills approached the water's edge. [7] this is an indian name. the northern indian fairies are six inches high, lead a life similar to the indians, and are excellent hunters. those who have had the good fortune to fall in with their tiny encampments have been kindly treated, and regaled on venison. we did not learn with certainty whether the existence of these delightful creatures is known from indian tradition, or whether the indians owe their knowledge of them to their intercourse with the traders, but think the former probable. at ten we rejoined our hunters, who had killed a deer, and halted to breakfast. we sent them forward; one of them, who was walking along the shore afterwards, fired upon two brown bears, and wounded one of them, which instantly turned and pursued him. his companions in the canoes put ashore to his assistance, but did not succeed in killing the bears, which fled upon the reinforcement coming up. during the delay thus occasioned we overtook them, and they continued with us the rest of the day. we encamped at the foot of a lofty range of mountains, which appear to be from twelve to fifteen hundred feet high; they are in general round backed, but the outline is not even, being interrupted by craggy conical eminences. this is the first ridge of hills we have seen in this country, that deserves the appellation of a mountain range; it is probably a continuation of the stony mountains crossed by hearne. many plants appeared in full flower near the tents, and dr. richardson gathered some high up on the hills. the distance we made to-day was fifty miles. there was a hoar frost in the night, and the temperature, at four next morning, was 40°: embarking at that hour, we glided quickly down the stream, and by seven arrived at the hook's encampment, which was placed on the summit of a lofty sand cliff, whose base was washed by the river. this chief had with him only three hunters, and a few old men and their families, the rest of his band having remained at their snares in bear lake. his brother, long-legs, and our guide, keskarrah, who had joined him three days before, had communicated to him our want of provision, and we were happy to find that, departing from the general practice of indian chiefs, he entered at once upon the business, without making a long speech. as an introductory mark of our regard, i decorated him with a medal similar to those which had been given to the other leaders. the hook began by stating, "that he was aware of our being destitute of provision, and of the great need we had of an ample stock, to enable us to execute our undertaking; and his regret, that the unusual scarcity of animals this season, together with the circumstance of his having only just received a supply of ammunition from fort providence, had prevented him from collecting the quantity of meat he had wished to do for our use. the amount, indeed," he said, "is very small, but i will cheerfully give you what i have: we are too much indebted to the white people, to allow them to want food on our lands, whilst we have any to give them. our families can live on fish until we can procure more meat, but the season is too short to allow of your delaying, to gain subsistence in that manner." he immediately desired, aloud, that the women should bring all the meat they had to us; and we soon collected sufficient to make three bags and a half of pemmican, besides some dried meat and tongues. we were truly delighted by this prompt and cheerful behaviour, and would gladly have rewarded the kindness of himself and his companions by some substantial present, but we were limited by the scantiness of our store to a small donation of fifteen charges of ammunition to each of the chiefs. in return for the provision they accepted notes on the north-west company, to be paid at fort providence; and to these was subjoined an order for a few articles of clothing, as an additional present. i then endeavoured to prevail upon the hook to remain in this vicinity with his hunters until the autumn, and to make deposits of provision in different parts of the course to the sea, as a resource for our party, in the event of our being compelled to return by this route. he required time, however, to consider this matter, and promised to give me an answer next day. i was rejoiced to find him then prepared to meet my wish, and the following plan was agreed upon:--as the animals abound, at all times, on the borders of bear lake, he promised to remain on the east side of it until the month of november, at that spot which is nearest to the copper-mine river, from whence there is a communication by a chain of lakes and portages. there the principal deposit of provision was to be made; but during the summer the hunters were to be employed in putting up supplies of dried meat at convenient distances, not only along the communication from this river, but also upon its banks, as far down as the copper mountain. they were also to place particular marks to guide our course to their lodges. we contracted to pay them liberally, whether we returned by this way or not; if we did, they were to accompany us to fort providence to receive the reward; and, at any rate, i promised to send the necessary documents by mr. wentzel, from the sea-coast, to ensure them an ample remuneration. with this arrangement they were perfectly satisfied, and we could not be less so, knowing they had every motive for fulfilling their promises, as the place they had chosen to remain at is their usual hunting-ground. the uncommon anxiety these chiefs expressed for our safety, appeared to us likely to prompt them to every care and attention, and i record their expressions with gratitude. after representing the numerous hardships we should have to encounter in the strongest manner, though in language similar to what we had often heard from our friend akaitcho, they earnestly entreated we would be constantly on our guard against the treachery of the esquimaux; and no less forcibly desired we would not proceed far along the coast, as they dreaded the consequences of our being exposed to a tempestuous sea in canoes, and having to endure the cold of the autumn on a shore destitute of fuel. the hook, having been an invalid for several years, rejoiced at the opportunity of consulting dr. richardson, who immediately gave him advice, and supplied him with medicine. the pounded meat and fat were converted into pemmican, preparatory to our voyage. the result of our observations at the hook's encampment was, latitude 66° 45' 11" n., longitude 115° 42' 23" w., variation of the compass 46° 7' 30" e. we embarked at eleven to proceed on our journey. akaitcho and his brother, the guide, being in the first canoe, and old keskarrah in the other. we wished to dispense with the further attendance of two guides, and made a proposition that either of them might remain here, but neither would relinquish the honour of escorting the expedition to the sea. one of our hunters, however, was less eager for this distinction, and preferred remaining with green stockings, keskarrah's fascinating daughter. the other four, with the little singer, accompanied us, two of them conducting their small canoes in turns, and the rest walking along the beach. the river flows over a bed of sand, and winds in an uninterrupted channel of from three quarters to a mile broad, between two ranges of hills, which are pretty even in their outline, and round backed, but having rather steep acclivities. the immediate borders of the stream consist either of high banks of sand, or steep gravel cliffs; and sometimes, where the hills recede to a little distance, the intervening space is occupied by high sandy ridges. at three p.m., after passing along the foot of a high range of hills, we arrived at the portage leading to the bear lake, to which we have previously alluded. its position is very remarkable, being at the most westerly part of the copper-mine river, and at the point where it resumes a northern course, and forces a passage through the lofty ridge of mountains, to which it has run parallel for the last thirty miles. as the indians travel from hence, with their families, in three days to the point where they have proposed staying for us, the distance, i think, cannot exceed forty miles; and admitting the course to be due west, which is the direction the guide pointed, it would place the eastern part of bear lake in 118-1/4° w. longitude. beyond this spot the river is diminished in breadth and a succession of rapids are formed; but as the water was deep, we passed through them without discharging any part of the cargoes. it still runs between high ranges of mountains, though its actual boundaries are banks of mud mixed with clay, which are clothed with stunted pines. we picked up a deer which the hunters had shot, and killed another from the canoe; and also received an addition to our stock of provision of seven young geese, which the hunters had beaten down with their sticks. about six p.m. we perceived a mark on the shore, which on examination was found to have been recently put up by some indians: and, on proceeding further, we discerned stronger proofs of their vicinity; we, therefore, encamped, and made a large fire as a signal, which they answered in a similar way. mr. wentzel was immediately sent, in expectation of getting provision from them. on his return, we learned that the party consisted of three old copper indians, with their families who had supported themselves with the bow and arrow since last autumn, not having visited fort providence for more than a year; and so successful had they been, that they were enabled to supply us with upwards of seventy pounds of dried meat, and six moose skins fit for making shoes, which were the more valuable as we were apprehensive of being barefooted before the journey could be completed. the evening was sultry, and the musquitoes appeared in great numbers. the distance made to-day was twenty-five miles. on the following morning we went down to these indians, and delivered to them notes on the north-west company, for the meat and skins they had furnished; and we had then the mortification of learning, that not having people to carry a considerable quantity of pounded meat, which they had intended for us, they had left it upon the bear lake portage. they promised, however to get it conveyed to the banks of this river before we could return, and we rewarded them with a present of knives and files. after re-embarking we continued to descend the river, which was now contracted between lofty banks to about one hundred and twenty yards wide; the current was very strong. at eleven we came to a rapid which had been the theme of discourse with the indians for many days, and which they had described to us as impassable in canoes. the river here descends for three quarters of a mile, in a deep, but narrow and crooked, channel, which it has cut through the foot of a hill of five hundred or six hundred feet high. it is confined between perpendicular cliffs, resembling stone walls, varying in height from eighty to one hundred and fifty feet, on which lies a mass of fine sand. the body of the river pent within this narrow chasm, dashed furiously round the projecting rocky columns, and discharged itself at the northern extremity in a sheet of foam. the canoes, after being lightened of part of their cargoes, ran through this defile without sustaining any injury. accurate sketches of this interesting scene were taken by messrs. back and hood. soon after passing this rapid, we perceived the hunters running up the east side of the river, to prevent us from disturbing a herd of musk oxen, which they had observed grazing on the opposite bank; we put them across and they succeeded in killing six, upon which we encamped for the purpose of drying the meat. the country below the rocky defile rapid consists of sandy plains; broken by small conical eminences also of sand; and bounded to the westward by a continuation of the mountain chain, which we had crossed at the bear lake portage; and to the eastward and northward, at the distance of twelve miles, by the copper mountains, which mr. hearne visited. the plains are crowned by several clumps of moderately large spruces about thirty feet high. this evening the indians made a large fire, as a signal to the hook's party that we had passed the _terrific_ rapid in safety. the position of our encampment was ascertained to be, latitude 67° 1' 10" n., longitude 116° 27' 28" w., variation of the compass 44° 11' 43" e., dip of the needle 87° 31' 18". some thunder showers retarded the drying of the meat, and our embarkation was delayed till next day. the hunters were sent forward to hunt at the copper mountains, under the superintendence of adam, the interpreter, who received strict injunctions not to permit them to make any large fires, lest they should alarm straggling parties of the esquimaux. the musquitoes were now very numerous and annoying, but we consoled ourselves with the hope that their season would be short. on the 11th we started at three a.m., and as the guide had represented the river below our encampment to be full of shoals, some of the men were directed to walk along the shore, but they were assailed so violently by the musquitoes, as to be compelled to embark very soon; and we afterwards passed over the shallow parts by the aid of the poles, without experiencing much interruption. the current ran very rapidly, having been augmented by the waters of the mouse river and several small streams. we rejoined our hunters at the foot of the copper mountains, and found they had killed three musk oxen. this circumstance determined us on encamping to dry the meat, as there was wood at the spot. we availed ourselves of this delay to visit the copper mountains in search of specimens of the ore, agreeably to my instructions{18}; and a party of twenty-one persons, consisting of the officers, some of the voyagers, and all the indians, set{19} off on that excursion. we travelled for nine hours over a considerable space of ground, but found only a few small pieces of native copper. the range we ascended was on the west side of the river, extending w.n.w. and e.s.e. the mountains varied in height from twelve to fifteen hundred feet. the uniformity of the mountains is interrupted by narrow valleys traversed by small streams. the best specimens of metal we procured were among the stones in these valleys, and it was in such situations, that our guides desired us to search most carefully. it would appear, that when the indians see any sparry substance projecting above the surface, they dig there; but they have no other rule to direct them, and have never found the metal in its original repository. our guides reported that they had found copper in large pieces in every part of this range, for two days' walk to the north-west, and that the esquimaux come hither to search for it. the annual visits which the copper indians were accustomed to make to these mountains, when most of their weapons and utensils were made of copper, have been discontinued since they have been enabled to obtain a supply of ice chisels and other instruments of iron by the establishment of trading posts near their hunting grounds. that none of those who accompanied us had visited them for many years was evident, from their ignorance of the spots most abundant in metal. the impracticability of navigating the river upwards from the sea, and the want of wood for forming an establishment, would prove insuperable objections to rendering the collection of copper at this part worthy of mercantile speculation. we had the opportunity of surveying the country from several elevated positions. two or three small lakes only were visible, still partly frozen; and much snow remained on the mountains. the trees were reduced to a scanty fringe on the borders of the river, and every side was beset by naked mountains. the day was unusually warm, and, therefore, favourable for drying the meat. our whole stock of provision, calculated for preservation, was sufficient for fourteen days, without any diminution of the ordinary allowance of three pounds to each man per day. the situation of our tents was 67° 10' 30" n., longitude 116° 25' 45" w. _july{20} 12_.--the indians knowing the course of the river below this point to be only a succession of rapids, declined taking their canoes any further; but as i conceived one of them would be required, should we be compelled to walk along the coast, two of our men were appointed to conduct it. as we were now entering the confines of the esquimaux country, our guides recommended us to be cautious in lighting fires, lest we should discover ourselves, adding that the same reason would lead them to travel as much as possible in the valleys, and to avoid crossing the tops of the hills. we embarked at six a.m., taking with us only old keskarrah. the other indians walked along the banks of the river. throughout this day's voyage the current was very strong, running four or five miles an hour; but the navigation was tolerable, and we had to lighten the canoes only once, in a contracted part of the river where the waves were very high. the river is in many places confined between perpendicular walls of rock to one hundred and fifty yards in width, and there the rapids were most agitated. large masses of ice twelve or fourteen feet thick, were still adhering to many parts of the bank, indicating the tardy departure of winter from this inhospitable land, but the earth around them was rich with vegetation. in the evening two musk-oxen being seen on the beach, were pursued and killed by our men. whilst we were waiting to embark the meat, the indians rejoined us, and reported they had been attacked by a bear, which sprung upon them whilst they were conversing together. his attack was so sudden that they had not time to level their guns properly, and they all missed except akaitcho, who, less confused than the rest, took deliberate aim, and shot the animal dead. they do not eat the flesh of the bear, but knowing that we had no such prejudice, they brought us some of the choice pieces, which upon trial we found to be excellent meat. the indians having informed us that we were now within twelve miles of the rapid where the esquimaux have invariably been found, we pitched our tents on the beach, under the shelter of a high hill whose precipitous side is washed by the river, intending to send forward some persons to determine the situation of their present abode. some vestiges of an old esquimaux encampment were observed near the tents, and the stumps of the trees bore marks of the stone hatchets they use. a strict watch was appointed, consisting of an officer, four canadians, and an indian, and directions were given for the rest of the party to sleep with their arms by their side. that as little delay as possible might be experienced in opening a communication with the esquimaux, we immediately commenced arrangements for sending forward persons to discover whether there were any in our vicinity. akaitcho and the guides proposed that two of the hunters should be despatched on this service, who had extremely quick sight, and were accustomed to act as scouts, an office which requires equal caution and circumspection. a strong objection, however, lay against this plan, in the probability of their being discovered by a straggling hunter, which would be destructive to every hope of accommodation. it was therefore determined to send augustus and junius, who were very desirous to undertake the service. these adventurous men proposed to go armed only with pistols concealed in their dress, and furnished with beads, looking-glasses, and other articles, that they might conciliate their countrymen by presents. we could not divest our minds of the apprehension, that it might be a service of much hazard, if the esquimaux were as hostile to strangers as the copper indians have invariably represented them to be; and we felt great reluctance in exposing our two little interpreters, who had rendered themselves dear to the whole party, to the most distant chance of receiving injury; but this course of proceeding appeared in their opinion and our own to offer the only chance of gaining an interview. though not insensible to the danger, they cheerfully prepared for their mission, and clothed themselves in esquimaux dresses, which had been made for the purpose at fort enterprise. augustus was desired to make his presents, and to tell the esquimaux that the white men had come to make peace between them and all their enemies, and also to discover a passage by which every article of which they stood in need might be brought in large ships. he was not to mention that we were accompanied by the indians, but to endeavour to prevail on some of the esquimaux to return with him. he was directed to come back immediately if there were no lodges at the rapid. the indians were not suffered to move out of our sight, but in the evening we permitted two of them to cross the river in pursuit of a musk-ox, which they killed on the beach, and returned immediately. the officers, prompted by an anxious solicitude for augustus and junius, crawled up frequently to the summit of the mountain to watch their return. the view, however, was not extensive, being bounded at the distance of eight miles by a range of hills similar to the copper mountains, but not so lofty. the night came without bringing any intelligence of our messengers, and our fears for their safety increased with the length of their absence. as every one had been interested in the welfare of these men through their vivacity and good{21} nature, and the assistance they had cheerfully rendered in bearing their portion of whatever labour might be going on, their detention formed the subject of all our conversation, and numerous conjectures were hazarded as to the cause. dr. richardson, having the first watch, had gone to the summit of the hill and remained seated, contemplating the river that washed the precipice under his feet, long after dusk had hid distant objects from his view. his thoughts were, perhaps, far distant from the surrounding scenery, when he was roused by an indistinct noise behind him, and on looking round, perceived that nine white wolves had ranged themselves in form of a crescent, and were advancing, apparently with the intention of driving him into the river. on his rising up they halted, and when he advanced they made way for his passage down to the tents. he had his gun in his hand, but forbore to fire, lest there should be esquimaux in the neighbourhood. during mr. wentzel's middle watch, the wolves appeared repeatedly on the summit of the hill, and at one time they succeeded in driving a deer over the precipice. the animal was stunned by the fall, but recovering itself, swam across the stream, and escaped up the river. i may remark here, that at midnight it was tolerably dark in the valley of the river at this time, but that an object on the eminence above could be distinctly seen against the sky. the following observations were taken at this encampment, latitude 67° 23' 14" n., longitude 116° 6' 51" w., variation 49° 46' 24" e. thermometer 75° at three p.m. sultry weather. augustus and junius not having returned next morning, we were more alarmed respecting them, and determined on proceeding to find out the cause of their detention, but it was eleven a.m. before we could prevail upon the indians to remain behind, which we wished them to do lest the esquimaux might be suspicious of our intentions, if they were seen in our suite. we promised to send for them when we had paved the way for their reception; but akaitcho, ever ready to augur misfortune, expressed his belief that our messengers had been killed, and that the esquimaux, warned of our approach, were lying in wait for us, and "although," said he, "your party may be sufficiently strong to repulse any hostile attack, my band is too weak to offer effectual resistance when separated from you; and therefore, we are determined to go on with you, or to return to our lands." after much argument, however, he yielded and agreed to stay behind, provided mr. wentzel would remain with him. this gentleman was accordingly left with a canadian attendant, and they promised not to pass a range of hills then in view to the northward, unless we sent notice to them. the river during the whole of this day's voyage flowed between alternate cliffs of loose sand{22} intermixed with gravel, and red sand-stone rocks, and was every where shallow and rapid. as its course was very crooked, much time was spent in examining the different rapids previous to running them, but the canoes descended, except at a single place, without any difficulty. most of the officers and half the men marched along the land to lighten the canoes, and reconnoitre the country, each person being armed with a gun and a dagger. arriving at a range of mountains which had terminated our view yesterday, we ascended it with much eagerness, expecting to see the rapid that mr. hearne visited near its base, and to gain a view of the sea; but our disappointment was proportionably great, when we beheld beyond, a plain similar to that we had just left, terminated by another range of trap hills, between whose tops the summits of some distant blue mountains appeared. our reliance on the information of the guides, which had been for some time shaken was now quite at an end, and we feared that the sea was still far distant. the flat country here is covered with grass, and is devoid of the large stones, so frequent in the barren grounds, but the ranges of trap hills which seem to intersect it at regular distances are quite barren. a few decayed stunted pines were standing on the borders of the river. in the evening we had the gratification of meeting junius, who was hastening back to inform us that they had found four esquimaux tents at the fall which we recognised to be the one described by mr. hearne. the inmates were asleep at the time of their arrival, but rose soon afterwards, and then augustus presented himself, and had some conversation across the river. he told them the white people had come, who would make them very useful presents. the information of our arrival, seemed to alarm them very much, but as the noise of the rapid prevented them from hearing distinctly, one of them approached him in his canoe, and received the rest of the message. he would not, however, land on his side of the river, but returned to the tents without receiving the present. his language differed in some respects from augustus's, but they understood each other tolerably well. augustus trusting for a supply of provision to the esquimaux, had neglected to carry any with him, and this was the main cause of junius's return. we now encamped, having come fourteen miles. after a few hours' rest, junius set off again to rejoin his companion, being accompanied by hepburn, who was directed to remain about two miles above the fall, to arrest the canoes on their passage, lest we should too suddenly surprise the esquimaux. about ten p.m. we were mortified by the appearance of the indians with mr. wentzel, who had in vain endeavoured to restrain them from following us. the only reason assigned by akaitcho for this conduct was, that he wished for a reassurance of my promise to establish peace between his nation and the esquimaux. i took this occasion of again enforcing the necessity of their remaining behind, until we had obtained the confidence and good-will of their enemies. after supper dr. richardson ascended a lofty hill about three miles from the encampment, and obtained the first view of the sea; it appeared to be covered with ice. a large promontory, which i named cape hearne, bore n.e., and its lofty mountains proved to be the blue land we had seen in the forenoon, and which had led us to believe the sea was still far distant. he saw the sun set a few minutes before midnight from the same elevated situation. it did not rise during the half hour he remained there, but before he reached the encampment its rays gilded the tops of the hills. the night was warm, and we were much annoyed by the musquitoes. _july{23} 15_.--we this morning experienced as much difficulty as before in prevailing upon the indians to remain behind, and they did not consent until i had declared that they should lose the reward which had been promised, if they proceeded any farther, before we had prepared the esquimaux to receive them. we left a canadian with them, and proceeded, not without apprehension that they would follow us, and derange our whole plan by their obstinacy. two of the officers and a party of the men walked on the shore, to lighten the canoes. the river, in this part, flows between high and stony cliffs, reddish slate clay rocks, and shelving banks of white clay, and is full of shoals and dangerous rapids. one of these was termed escape rapid, both the canoes having narrowly escaped foundering in its high waves. we had entered the rapid before we were aware, and the steepness of the cliffs preventing us from landing, we were indebted to the swiftness of our descent for preservation. two waves made a complete breach over the canoes; a third would in all probability have filled and overset them, which must have proved fatal to every one in them. the powder fortunately escaped the water, which was soon discharged when we reached the bottom of the rapid. at noon we perceived hepburn lying on the left bank of the river, and landed immediately to receive his information. as he represented the water to be shoal the whole way to the rapid (below which the esquimaux were,) the shore party were directed to continue their march to a sandy bay at the head of the fall, and there await the arrival of the canoes. the land in the neighbourhood of the rapid, is of the most singular form: large irregular sand-hills bounding both banks, apparently so unconnected that they resemble icebergs; the country around them consisting of high round green hills. the river becomes wide in this part, and full of shoals, but we had no difficulty in finding a channel through them. on regaining the shore party, we regretted to find that some of the men had incautiously appeared on the tops of the hills, just at the time augustus was conversing with one of the esquimaux, who had again approached in his canoe, and was almost persuaded to land. the unfortunate appearance of so many people at this instant, revived his fears, and he crossed over to the eastern bank of the river, and fled, with the whole of his party. we learned from augustus that this party, consisting of four men and as many women, had manifested a friendly disposition. two of the former were very tall. the man who first came to speak to him, inquired the number of canoes that we had with us, expressed himself to be not displeased at our arrival, and desired him to caution us not to attempt running the rapid, but to make the portage on the west side of the river. notwithstanding this appearance of confidence and satisfaction, it seems they did not consider their situation free from danger, as they retreated the first night, to an island somewhat farther down the river, and in the morning they returned and threw down their lodges, as if to give notice to any of their nation that might arrive, that there was an enemy in the neighbourhood. from seeing all their property strewed about, and ten of their dogs left, we entertained the hope that these poor people would return after their first alarm had subsided; and therefore i determined on remaining until the next day, in the expectation of seeing them, as i considered the opening of an early communication a matter of the greatest importance in our state of absolute ignorance respecting the sea-coast. the canoes and cargoes were carried across the portage, and we encamped on the north side of it. we sent augustus and junius across the river to look for the runaways, but their search was fruitless. they put a few pieces of iron and trinkets in their canoes, which were lying on the beach. we also sent some men to put up the stages of fish, and secure them as much as possible from the attacks of the dogs. under the covering of their tents were observed some stone kettles and hatchets, a few fish spears made of copper, two small bits of iron, a quantity of skins, and some dried salmon, which was covered with maggots, and half putrid. the entrails of the fish were spread out to dry. a great many skins of small birds were hung up to a stage, and even two mice were preserved in the same way. thus it would appear that the necessities of these poor people induce them to preserve every article than can be possibly used as food. several human skulls which bore the marks of violence, and many bones were strewed about the ground near the encampment, and as the spot exactly answers the description given by mr. hearne, of the place where the chipewyans who accompanied him perpetrated the dreadful massacre on the esquimaux, we had no doubt of this being the place, notwithstanding the difference in its position as to latitude and longitude given by him, and ascertained by our observation. we have, therefore, preserved the appellation of bloody fall, which he bestowed upon it. its situation by our observations is, in latitude 67° 42' 35" n., longitude 115° 49' 33" w., variation 50° 20' 14" e. this rapid is a sort of shelving cascade, about three hundred yards in length, having a descent of from ten to fifteen feet. it is bounded on each side by high walls of red sand-stone upon which rests a series of lofty green hills. on its north side, close to the east bank, is the low rocky island which the esquimaux had deserted. the surrounding scenery was accurately delineated in a sketch taken by mr. hood. we caught forty excellent salmon and white fish in a single net below the rapid. we had not seen any trees during this day's journey; our fuel consisted of small willows and pieces of dried wood that were picked up near the encampment. the ground is well clothed with grass, and nourishes most of the shrubs and berry-bearing plants that we have seen north of fort enterprise; and the country altogether has a richer appearance than the barren lands of the copper indians. we had a distinct view of the sea from the summit of a hill behind the tents; it appeared choked with ice and full of islands. on the morning of the 16th three men were sent up the river to search for dried wood to make floats for the nets. adam, the interpreter, was also despatched with a canadian, to inform akaitcho of the flight of the esquimaux. we were preparing to go down to the sea in one of the canoes, leaving mr. back to await the return of the men who were absent; but just as the crew were putting the canoe in the water, adam returned in the utmost consternation, and informed us that a party of esquimaux were pursuing the men whom we had sent to collect floats. the orders for embarking were instantly countermanded, and we went with a part of our men to their rescue. we soon met our people returning at a slow pace, and learned that they had come unawares upon the esquimaux party, which consisted of six men, with their women and children, who were travelling towards the rapid with a considerable number of dogs carrying their baggage. the women hid themselves on the first alarm, but the men advanced, and stopping at some distance from our men, began to dance in a circle, tossing up their hands in the air, and accompanying their motions with much shouting, to signify, i conceive, their desire of peace. our men saluted them by pulling off their hats, and making bows, but neither party was willing to approach the other; and, at length, the esquimaux retired to the hill, from whence they had descended when first seen. we proceeded in the hope of gaining an interview with them, but lest our appearance in a body should alarm them, we advanced in a long line, at the head of which was augustus. we were led to their baggage, which they had deserted, by the howling of the dogs; and on the summit of the hill we found, lying behind a stone, an old man who was too infirm to effect his escape with the rest. he was much terrified when augustus advanced, and probably expected immediate death; but that the fatal blow might not be unrevenged, he seized his spear, and made a thrust with it at his supposed enemy. augustus, however, easily repressed the feeble effort, and soon calmed his fears by presenting him with some pieces of iron, and assuring him of his friendly intentions. dr. richardson and i then joined them, and, after receiving our presents, the old man was quite composed, and became communicative. his dialect differed from that used by augustus, but they understood each other tolerably well. it appeared that his party consisted of eight men and their families, who were returning from a hunting excursion with dried meat. after being told who we were, he said, that he had heard of white people from different parties of his nation which resided on the sea-coast to the eastward; and to our inquiries respecting the provision and fuel we might expect to get on our voyage, he informed us that the rein-deer frequent the coast during summer, the fish are plentiful at the mouths of the rivers, the seals are abundant, but there are no sea-horses nor whales, although he remembered one of the latter, which had been killed by some distant tribe, having been driven on shore on his part of the coast by a gale of wind. that musk oxen were to be found a little distance up the rivers, and that we should get drift wood along the shore. he had no knowledge of the coast to the eastward beyond the next river, which he called nappa-arktok-towock, or tree river. the old man, contrary to the indian practice, asked each of our names; and, in reply to a similar question on our part, said his name was terregannoeuck, or the white fox; and that his tribe denominated themselves nagge-ook-tormoeoot, or deer-horn esquimaux. they usually frequent the bloody fall during this and the following moons, for the purpose of salting salmon, and then retire to a river which flows into the sea, a short way to the westward, (since denominated richardson's river,) and pass the winter in snow-houses. after this conversation terregannoeuck proposed going down to his baggage, and we then perceived, he was too infirm to walk without the assistance of sticks. augustus, therefore, offered him his arm, which he readily accepted, and, on reaching his store, he distributed pieces of dried meat to each person, which, though highly tainted, were immediately eaten; this being an universal token among the indians of peaceable intention. we then informed him of our desire to procure as much meat as we possibly could, and he told us that he had a large quantity concealed in the neighbourhood, which he would cause to be carried to us when his people returned. i now communicated to him that we were accompanied by some copper indians, who were very desirous to make peace with his nation, and that they had requested me to prevail upon the esquimaux to receive them in a friendly manner; to which he replied, he should rejoice to see an end put to the hostility that existed between the nations, and therefore would most gladly welcome our companions. having despatched adam to inform akaitcho of this circumstance, we left terregannoeuck, in the hope that his party would rejoin him; but as we had doubts whether the young men would venture upon coming to our tents, on the old man's bare representation, we sent augustus and junius back in the evening, to remain with him until they came, that they might fully detail our intentions. the countenance of terregannoeuck was oval, with a sufficiently prominent nose, and had nothing very different from a european face, except in the smallness of his{24} eyes, and, perhaps, in the narrowness of his forehead. his complexion was very fresh and red, and he had a longer beard than i had seen on any of the aboriginal inhabitants of america. it was between two and three inches long, and perfectly white. his face was not tattooed. his dress consisted of a shirt, or jacket with a hood, wide breeches, reaching only to the knee, and tight leggins sewed to the shoes, all of deer skins. the soles of the shoes were made of seal-skin, and stuffed with feathers instead of socks. he was bent with age, but appeared to be about five feet ten inches high. his hands and feet were small in proportion to his height. whenever terregannoeuck received a present, he placed each article first on his right shoulder, then on his left; and when he wished to express still higher satisfaction, he rubbed it over his head. he held hatchets, and other iron instruments, in the highest esteem. on seeing his countenance in a glass for the first time, he exclaimed, "i shall never kill deer more," and immediately put the mirror down. the tribe to which he belongs repair to the sea in spring, and kill seals; as the season advances they hunt deer and musk oxen at some distance from the coast. their weapon is the bow and arrow, and they get sufficiently nigh the deer, either by crawling, or by leading these animals by ranges of turf towards a spot where the archer can conceal himself. their bows are formed of three pieces of fir, the centre piece alone bent, the other two lying in the same straight line with the bowstring; the pieces are neatly tied together with sinew. their canoes are similar to those we saw in hudson's straits, but smaller. they get fish constantly in the rivers, and in the sea as soon as the ice breaks up. this tribe do not make use of nets, but are tolerably successful with the hook and line. their cooking utensils are made of pot-stone, and they form very neat dishes of fir, the sides being made of thin deal, bent into an oval form, secured at the ends by sewing, and fitted so nicely to the bottom as to be perfectly water-tight. they have also large spoons made of the horns of the musk oxen. akaitcho and the indians arrived at our tents in the evening, and we learned that they had seen the esquimaux the day before, and endeavoured, without success, to open a communication with them. they exhibited no hostile intention, but were afraid to advance. akaitcho, keeping out of their sight, followed at a distance, expecting that ultimately finding themselves enclosed between our party and his, they would be compelled to come to a parley with one of us. akaitcho had seen terregannoeuck soon after our departure; he was much terrified, and thrust his spear at him as he had done at augustus; but was soon reconciled after the demonstrations of kindness the indians made, in cutting off the buttons from their dress to present to him. _july 17_.--we waited all this forenoon in momentary expectation of the return of augustus and junius, but as they did not appear at two p.m., i sent mr. hood with a party of men, to inquire into the cause of their detention, and to bring the meat which terregannoeuck had promised us. he returned at midnight with the information, that none of the esquimaux had yet ventured to come near terregannoeuck except his aged wife, who had concealed herself amongst the rocks at our first interview; and she told him the rest of the party had gone to a river, a short distance to the westward, where there was another party of esquimaux fishing. augustus and junius had erected the tent, and done every thing in their power to make the old man comfortable in their absence. terregannoeuck being unable to walk to the place where the meat was concealed, readily pointed the spot out to mr. hood, who went thither; but after experiencing much difficulty in getting at the column of rock on which it was deposited, he found it too putrid for our use. the features of terregannoeuck's wife were remarkable for roundness and flatness; her face was much tattooed{25}, and her{26} dress differed little from the old man's. in the afternoon a party of nine esquimaux appeared on the east bank of the river, about a mile below our encampment, carrying their canoes and baggage on their backs; but they turned and fled as soon as they perceived our tents. the appearance of so many different bands of esquimaux terrified the indians so much, that they determined on leaving us the next day, lest they should be surrounded and their retreat cut off. i endeavoured, by the offer of any remuneration they would choose, to prevail upon one or two of the hunters to proceed, but in vain; and i had much difficulty even in obtaining their promise to wait at the copper mountains for mr. wentzel and the four men, whom i intended to discharge at the sea. the fears which our interpreters, st. germain and adam, entertained respecting the voyage, were now greatly increased, and both of them came this evening to request their discharge, urging that their services could be no longer requisite, as the indians were going from us. st. germain even said that he had understood he was only engaged to accompany us as long as the indians did, and persisted in this falsehood until his agreement to go with us throughout the voyage had been twice read to him. as these were the only two of the party on whose skill in hunting we could rely, i was unable to listen for a moment to their desire of quitting us, and lest they should leave us by stealth, their motions were strictly watched. this was not an unnecessary precaution, as i was informed that they had actually laid a plan for eloping; but the rest of the men knowing that their own safety would have been compromised had they succeeded, kept a watchful eye over them. we knew that the dread of the esquimaux would prevent these men from leaving us as soon as the indians were at a distance, and we trusted to their becoming reconciled to the journey when once the novelty of a sea voyage had worn off. _july 18_.--as the indians persevered in their determination of setting out this morning, i reminded them, through mr. wentzel and st. germain, of the necessity of our having the deposit of provision made at fort enterprise, and received a renewed assurance of their attending to that point. they were also desired to put as much meat as they could _en cache_ on the banks of the copper-mine river on their return. we then furnished them with what ammunition we could spare, and they took their departure, promising to wait three days for mr. wentzel at the copper mountains. we afterwards learned that their fears did not permit them to do so, and that mr. wentzel did not rejoin them until they were a day's march to the southward of the mountains. we embarked at five a.m. and proceeded towards the sea, which is about nine miles beyond the bloody fall. after passing a few rapids, the river became wider, and more navigable for canoes, flowing between banks of alluvial sand. we encamped at ten on the western bank at its junction with the sea. the river is here about a mile wide, but very shallow, being barred nearly across by sand banks, which run out from the main land on each side to a low alluvial island that lies in the centre, and forms two channels; of these the westernmost only is navigable even for canoes, the other being obstructed by a stony bar. the islands to seaward are high and numerous, and fill the horizon in many points of the compass; the only open space, seen from an eminence near the encampment, being from n.be. to n.e.bn. towards the east the land was like a chain of islands, the ice apparently surrounding them in a compact body, leaving a channel between its edge and the main of about three miles. the water in this channel was of a clear green colour, and decidedly salt. mr. hearne could have tasted it only at the mouth of the river, when he pronounced it merely brackish. a rise and fall of four inches in the water was observed. the shore is strewed with a considerable quantity of drift timber, principally of the _populus balsamifera_, but none of it of great size. we also picked up some decayed wood far out of the reach of the water. a few stunted willows were growing near the encampment. some ducks, gulls, and partridges were seen this day. as i had to make up despatches for england to be sent by mr. wentzel, the nets were set in the interim, and we were rejoiced to find that they produced sufficient fish for the party. those caught were, the copper-mine river salmon, white fish, and two species of pleuronectes. we felt a considerable change of temperature on reaching the sea-coast, produced by the winds changing from the southward to the n.w. our canadian voyagers complained much of the cold, but they were amused with their first view of the sea, and particularly with the sight of the seals that were swimming about near the entrance of the river, but these sensations gave place to despondency before the evening had elapsed. they were terrified at the idea of a voyage through an icy sea in bark canoes. they speculated on the length of the journey, the roughness of the waves, the uncertainty of provisions, the exposure to cold where we could expect no fuel, and the prospect of having to traverse the barren grounds to get to some establishment. the two interpreters expressed their apprehensions with the least disguise, and again urgently applied to be discharged; but only one of the canadians made a similar request. judging that the constant occupation of their time as soon as we were enabled to commence the voyage would prevent them from conjuring up so many causes of fear, and that familiarity with the scenes on the coast, would in a short time enable them to give scope to their natural cheerfulness, the officers endeavoured to ridicule their fears, and happily succeeded for the present. the manner in which our faithful hepburn viewed the element to which he had been so long accustomed, contributed not a little to make them ashamed of their fears. on the morning of the 19th, dr. richardson, accompanied by augustus, paid another visit to terregannoeuck, to see if he could obtain any additional information respecting the country to the eastward; but he was disappointed at finding that his affrighted family had not yet rejoined him, and the old man could add nothing to his former communication. the doctor remarked that terregannoeuck had a great dislike to mentioning the name of the copper-mine river, and evaded the question with much dexterity as often as it was put to him; but that he willingly told the name of a river to the eastward, and also of his tribe. he attempted to persuade augustus to remain with him, and offered him one of his daughters for a wife. these esquimaux strike fire with two stones, catching the sparks in the down of the catkins of a willow. the despatches being finished were delivered this evening to mr. wentzel, who parted from us at eight p.m. with parent, gagnier, dumas, and forcier, canadians, whom i had discharged for the purpose of reducing our expenditure of provision as much as possible. the remainder of the party, including officers, amounted to twenty persons. i made mr. wentzel acquainted with the probable course of our future proceedings, and mentioned to him that if we were far distant from this river, when the season or other circumstances rendered it necessary to put a stop to our advance, we should, in all probability be unable to return to it, and should have to travel across the barren grounds towards some established post: in which case i told him that we should certainly go first to fort enterprise, expecting that he would cause the indians to place a supply of dried provision there, as soon as possible after their arrival in its vicinity. my instructions to him were, that he should proceed to point lake, transport the canoe that was left there to fort enterprise, where he was to embark the instruments and books, and carry them to slave lake, and to forward the box containing the journals, &c., with the present despatches, by the next winter packet to england. but before he quitted fort enterprise, he was to be assured of the intention of the indians to lay up the provision we required, and if they should be in want of ammunition for that purpose to procure it if possible from fort providence, or the other forts in slave lake, and send it immediately to them by the hunters who accompanied him thither. i also requested him to ascertain from akaitcho and the other leading indians, where their different parties would be hunting in the months of september and october, and to leave this information in a letter at fort enterprise, for our guidance in finding them, as we should require their assistance. mr. wentzel was furnished with a list of the stores that had been promised to akaitcho and his party as a remuneration for their services, as well as with an official request to the north-west company that these goods might be paid to them on their next visit to fort providence, which they expected to make in the latter part of november. i desired him to mention this circumstance to the indians as an encouragement to exertion in our behalf, and to promise them an additional reward for the supply of provision they should collect at fort enterprise. if mr. wentzel met the hook, or any of his party, he was instructed to assure them that he was provided with the necessary documents to get them payment for any meat they should put _en cache_ for our use; and to acquaint them, that we fully relied on their fulfilling every part of the agreement they had made with us. whenever the indians, whom he was to join at the copper-mountains, killed any animals on their way to fort enterprise, he was requested to put _en cache_ whatever meat could be spared, placing conspicuous marks to guide us to them; and i particularly begged he would employ them in hunting in our service, immediately after his arrival at the house.{27} when mr. wentzel's party had been supplied with ammunition, our remaining stock consisted of one thousand balls, and rather more than the requisite proportion of powder. a bag of small shot was missing, and we afterwards discovered that the canadians had secreted and distributed it among themselves, in order that when provision should become scarce, they might privately procure ducks and geese, and avoid the necessity of sharing them with the officers. the situation of our encampment was ascertained to be, latitude 67° 47' 50" n., longitude 115° 36' 49" w., the variation of the compass 46° 25' 52" e., and dip of the needle 88° 5' 07". it will be perceived, that the position of the mouth of the river, given by our observations, differs widely from that assigned by mr. hearne; but the accuracy of his description, conjoined with indian information, assured us that we were at the very part he visited. i therefore named the most conspicuous cape we then saw "cape hearne," as a just tribute to the memory of that persevering traveller. i distinguished another cape by the name of mackenzie, in honour of sir alexander mackenzie, the only other european[8] who had before reached the northern ocean. i called the river which falls into the sea, to the westward of the copper-mine, richardson, as a testimony of sincere regard for my friend and companion dr. richardson; and named the islands which were in view from our encampment, "couper's isles," in honour of a friend of his. the sun set this night at thirty minutes after eleven, apparent time. [8] captain parry's success was at this time unknown to us. the travelling distance from fort enterprise to the north of the copper-mine river, is about three hundred and thirty-four miles. the canoes and baggage were dragged over snow and ice for one hundred and seventeen miles of this distance. chapter xi. navigation of the polar sea, in two canoes, as far as cape turnagain, to the eastward, a distance exceeding five hundred and fifty miles--observations on the probability of a north-west passage. 1821. july 20. we intended to have embarked early this morning, and to have launched upon an element more congenial with our habits than the fresh-water navigations, with their numerous difficulties and impediments which we had hitherto encountered, but which was altogether new to our canadian voyagers. we were detained, however, by a strong north-east gale, which continued the whole day, with constant thunder showers; the more provoking as our nets procured but few fish, and we had to draw upon our store of dried meat; which, with other provision for the journey, amounted only to fifteen days' consumption. indeed, we should have preferred going dinnerless to bed rather than encroach on our small stock, had we not been desirous of satisfying the appetites, and cheering the spirits of our canadian companions at the commencement of our voyage. these thoughtless people would, at any time incur the hazard of absolute starvation, at a future period, for the present gratification of their appetites; to indulge which they do not hesitate, as we more than once experienced, at helping themselves secretly; it being,{28} in their opinion, no disgrace to be detected in pilfering food. our only luxury now was a little salt, which had long been our substitute both for bread and vegetables. since our departure from point lake we had boiled the indian tea plant, _ledum palustre_, which produced a beverage in smell much resembling rhubarb; notwithstanding which we found it refreshing, and were gratified to see this plant flourishing abundantly on the sea-shore, though of dwarfish growth. _july 21_.--the wind, which had blown strong through the night became moderate in the morning, but a dense fog prevented us from embarking until noon, when we commenced our voyage on the hyperborean sea. soon afterwards we landed on an island where the esquimaux had erected a stage of drift timber, and stored up many of their fishing implements and winter sledges, together with a great many dressed seal, musk-ox, and deer skins. their spears headed with bone, and many small articles of the same material, were worked with extreme neatness, as well as their wooden dishes, and cooking utensils of stone; and several articles, very elegantly formed of bone, were evidently intended for some game, but augustus was unacquainted with their use. we took from this deposit four seal-skins to repair our shoes, and left in exchange a copper-kettle, some awls and beads. we paddled all day along the coast to the eastward, on the inside of a crowded range of islands, and saw very little ice; the "blink" of it, however, was visible to the northward, and one small iceberg was seen at a distance. a tide was distinguishable among the islands by the foam floating on the water, but we could not ascertain its direction. in the afternoon st. germain killed on an island a fat deer, which was a great acquisition to us; it was the first we had seen for some months in good condition. having encamped on the main shore, after a run of thirty-seven miles, we set up a pole to ascertain the rise and fall of the water, which was repeated at every halting-place, and hepburn was ordered to attend to the result. we found the coast well covered with vegetation, of moderate height, even in its outline, and easy of approach. the islands are rocky and barren, presenting high cliffs of a columnar structure. i have named the westernmost group of those we passed "berens' isles," in honour of the governor of the hudson's bay company; and the easternmost{29}, "sir graham moore's islands." at the spot where we landed some muscle-shells and a single piece of sea-weed lay on the beach; this was the only spot on the coast where we saw shells. we were rejoiced to find the beach strewed with abundance of small drift wood, none of it recent. it may be remarked that the copper-mine river does not bring down any drift-wood; nor does any other known stream except mackenzie's river; hence, from its appearance on this part of the coast an easterly current may be inferred. this evening we were all in high glee at the progress we had made; the disappearance of the ice, and the continuance of the land in an eastern direction, and our future prospects, formed an enlivening subject of conversation. the thermometer varied during the day between 43° and 45°. the fishing nets were set, but produced nothing. on the 22nd we embarked at four a.m., and having the benefit of a light breeze continued our voyage along the coast under sail, until eleven, when we halted to breakfast, and to obtain the latitude. the coast up to this point presented the same general appearance as yesterday, namely, a gravelly or sandy beach, skirted by green plains; but as we proceeded, the shore became exceedingly rocky and sterile; and, at last, projecting considerably to the northward, it formed a high and steep promontory. some ice had drifted down upon this cape, which, we feared, might check our progress; but, as the evening was fine, we ventured upon pushing the canoes through the small channels formed among it. after pursuing this kind of navigation, with some danger and more anxiety, we landed and encamped on a smooth rocky point; whence we perceived, with much satisfaction, that the ice consisted only of detached pieces, which would be removed by the first breeze. we sounded in seventeen fathoms, close to the shore, this day. the least depth ascertained by the lead, since our departure from the river, was six fathoms; and any ship might pass safely between the islands and the main. the water is of a light green colour, but not very clear; and much less salt than that of the atlantic, judging from our recollection of its taste. in the course of the day we saw geese and ducks with their young, and two deer; and experienced very great variations of temperature, from the light breezes blowing alternately from the ice and the land. the name of "lawford's islands" was bestowed on a group we passed in the course of the day, as a mark of my respect for vice-admiral lawford, under whose auspices i first entered the naval service. a fresh breeze blowing through the night had driven the ice from the land, and opened a channel of a mile in width; we, therefore, embarked at nine a.m. to pursue our journey along the coast, but at the distance of nine miles were obliged to seek shelter in port epworth, the wind having become adverse, and too strong to admit of our proceeding. the tree river of the esquimaux, which discharges its waters into this bay, appears to be narrow, and much interrupted by rapids. the fishing-nets were set, but obtained only one white fish and a few bull-heads. this part of the coast is the most sterile and inhospitable that can be imagined. one trap-cliff succeeds another with tiresome uniformity, and their _debris_ cover the narrow valleys that intervene, to the exclusion of every kind of herbage. from the summit of these cliffs the ice appeared in every direction. we obtained the following observations during our stay; latitude 67° 42' 15" n., longitude 112° 30' 00" w., variation 47° 37' 42" e. the wind abating, at eight p.m. we re-embarked, and soon afterwards discovered, on an island, a rein-deer, which the interpreters fortunately killed. resuming our voyage we were much impeded by the ice, and, at length, being unable to force a passage through a close stream that had collected round a cape, we put ashore at four a.m. on the 24th, several stone fox-traps and other traces of the esquimaux were seen near the encampment. the horizontal refraction varied so much this morning, that the upper limb of the sun twice appeared at the horizon before it finally rose. for the last two days the water rose and fell about nine inches. the tides, however, seemed to be very irregular, and we could not determine the direction of the ebb or flood. a current setting to the eastward was running about two miles an hour during our stay. the ice having removed a short distance from the shore, by eleven a.m. we embarked, and with some difficulty effected a passage; then making a traverse across gray's bay[9], we paddled up under the eastern shore against a strong wind. the interpreters landed here, and went in pursuit of a deer, but had no success. this part of the coast is indented by deep bays, which are separated by peninsulas formed like wedges, sloping many miles into the sea, and joined by low land to the main: so that often mistaking them for islands, we were led by a circuitous route round the bays. cliffs were numerous on the islands, which were all of the trap formation. [9] named after mr. gray, principal of the belfast academy.{30} an island which lies across the mouth of this bay bears the name of our english sailor hepburn. at seven, a thunder-storm coming on, we encamped at the mouth of a river about eighty yards wide and set four nets. this stream, which received the name of wentzel, after our late companion, discharges a considerable body of water. its banks are sandy and clothed with herbage. the esquimaux had recently piled up some drift timber here. a few ducks, ravens, and snow birds were seen to-day. the distance made was thirty-one miles. _july 25_.--we had constant rain with thunder during the night. the nets furnished only three salmon-trout. we attributed the want of greater success to the entrance of some seals into the mouth of the river. embarking at six a.m. we paddled against a cold breeze, until the spreading of a thick fog caused us to land. the rocks here consisted of a beautiful mixture of red and gray granite, traversed from north to south by veins of red felspar, which were crossed in various directions by smaller veins filled with the same substance. at noon the wind coming from a favourable quarter tempted us to proceed, although the fog was unabated. we kept as close as we could to the main shore, but having to cross some bays, it became a matter of doubt whether we had not left the main, and were running along an island. just as we were endeavouring to double a bold cape, the fog partially cleared away, and allowed us an imperfect view of a chain of islands on the outside, and of much heavy ice which was pressing down upon us. the coast near us was so steep and rugged that no landing of the cargoes could be effected, and we were preserved only by some men jumping on the rocks, and thrusting the ice off with poles. there was no alternative but to continue along this dreary shore, seeking a channel between the different masses of ice which had accumulated at the various points. in this operation both the canoes were in imminent danger of being crushed by the ice, which was now tossed about by the waves that the gale had excited. we effected a passage, however, and keeping close to the shore, landed at the entrance of detention harbour, at nine p.m., having come twenty-eight miles. an old esquimaux encampment was traced on this spot; and an ice chisel, a copper knife, and a small iron knife were found under the turf. i named this cape after mr. barrow of the admiralty, to whose exertions are mainly owing the discoveries recently made in arctic geography. an opening on its eastern side received the appellation of inman harbour, after my friend the professor at the royal naval college, portsmouth; and to a group of islands to seaward of it, we gave the name of jameson, in honour of the distinguished professor of mineralogy at edinburgh. we had much wind and rain during the night; and by the morning of the 26th a great deal of ice had drifted into the inlet. we embarked at four and attempted to force a passage, when the first canoe got enclosed, and remained for some time in a very perilous situation: the pieces of ice, crowded together by the action of the current and wind, pressing strongly against its feeble sides. a partial opening, however, occurring, we landed without having sustained any serious injury. two men were then sent round the bay, and it was ascertained that instead of having entered a narrow passage between an island and the main, we were at the mouth of a harbour, having an island at its entrance; and that it was necessary to return by the way we came, and get round a point to the northward. this was, however, impracticable, the channel being blocked up by drift ice; and we had no prospect of release except by a change of wind. this detention was extremely vexatious, as we were losing a fair wind, and expending our provision. in the afternoon the weather cleared up, and several men went hunting, but were unsuccessful. during the day the ice floated backwards and forwards in the harbour, moved by currents, not regular enough to deserve the name of tide, and which appeared to be governed by the wind. we perceived great diminution by melting in the pieces near us. that none of this ice survived the summer is evident, from the rapidity of its decay; and because no ice of last year's formation was hanging on the rocks. whether any body of it exists at a distance from the shore, we could not determine. the land around cape barrow, and to detention harbour, consists of steep craggy mountains of granite, rising so abruptly from the water's edge, as to admit few landing-places even for a canoe. the higher parts attain an elevation of fourteen or fifteen hundred feet; and the whole is entirely destitute of vegetation. on the morning of the 27th, the ice remaining stationary at the entrance, we went to the bottom of the harbour, and carried the canoes and cargoes about a mile and a half across the point of land that forms the east side of it; but the ice was not more favourable there for our advancement than at the place we had left. it consisted of small pieces closely packed together by the wind, extending along the shore, but leaving a clear passage beyond the chain of islands with which the whole of this coast is girt. indeed, when we left the harbour we had little hope of finding a passage; and the principal object in moving was, to employ the men, in order to prevent their reflecting upon and discussing the dangers of our situation, which we knew they were too apt to do when leisure permitted. our observations place the entrance of detention harbour in latitude 67° 53' 45", longitude 110° 41' 20" w., variation 40° 49' 34" e. it is a secure anchorage, being sheltered from the wind in every direction; the bottom is sandy. _july 28_.--as the ice continued in the same state, several of the men were sent out to hunt; and one of them fired no less than four times at deer, but unfortunately without success. it was satisfactory, however, to ascertain that the country was not destitute of animals. we had the mortification to discover that two of the bags of pemmican, which was our principal reliance, had become mouldy by wet. our beef too had been so badly cured, as to be scarcely eatable, through our having been compelled, from haste, to dry it by fire instead of the sun. it was not, however, the quality of our provision that gave us uneasiness, but its diminution, and the utter incapacity to obtain any addition. seals were the only animals that met our view at this place, and these we could never approach. dr. richardson discovered near the beach a small vein of galena, traversing gneiss rocks, and the people collected a quantity of it in the hope of adding to our stock of balls; but their endeavours to smelt it, were, as may be supposed, ineffectual. the drift timber on this part of the coast consists of pine and taccamahac, (_populus balsamifera_), most probably from mackenzie's, or some other river to the westward of the copper mine. it all appears to have lain long in the water, the bark being completely worn off, and the ends of the pieces rubbed perfectly smooth. there had been a sharp frost in the night, which formed a pretty thick crust of ice in a kettle of water that stood in the tents; and for several nights thin films of ice had appeared on the salt water amongst the cakes of stream ice[10]. notwithstanding this state of temperature, we were tormented by swarms of musquitoes; we had persuaded ourselves that these pests could not sustain the cold in the vicinity of the sea, but it appears they haunt every part of this country in defiance of climate. mr. back made an excursion to a hill at seven or eight miles' distance, and from its summit he perceived the ice close to the shore as far as his view extended. [10] this is termed _bay-ice_ by the greenland-men. on the morning of the 29th the party attended divine service. about noon the ice appearing less compact, we embarked to change our situation, having consumed all the fuel within our reach. the wind came off the land just as the canoes had started, and we determined on attempting to force a passage along the shore; in which we happily succeeded, after seven hours' labour and much hazard to our frail vessels. the ice lay so close that the crews disembarked on it, and effected a passage by bearing against the pieces with their poles; but in conducting the canoes through the narrow channels thus formed, the greatest care was requisite, to prevent the sharp projecting points from breaking the bark. they fortunately received no material injury, though they were split in two places. at the distance of three miles, we came to the entrance of a deep bay, whose bottom was filled by a body of ice so compact as to preclude the idea of a passage through it; whilst at the same time, the traverse across its mouth was attended with much danger, from the approach of a large field of ice, which was driving down before the wind. the dread of further detention, however, prevented us from hesitating; and we had the satisfaction of landing in an hour and a half on the opposite shore, where we halted to repair the canoes and to dine. i have named this bay after my friend mr. daniel moore of lincoln's inn; to whose zeal for science, the expedition was indebted for the use of a most valuable chronometer. its shores are picturesque; sloping hills receding from the beach, and clothed with verdure, bound its bottom and western side; and lofty cliffs of slate clay, with their intervening grassy valleys, skirt its eastern border. embarking at midnight, we pursued our voyage without interruption, passing between the stockport and marcet islands and the main, until six a.m. on july 30th; when, having rounded point kater, we entered arctic sound, and were again involved in a stream of ice, but after considerable delay extricated ourselves, and proceeded towards the bottom of the inlet in search of the mouth of a river, which we supposed it to receive, from the change in the colour of the water. about ten a.m. we landed, to breakfast on a small deer which st. germain had killed; and sent men in pursuit of some others in sight, but with which they did not come up. re-embarking, we passed the river without perceiving it, and entered a deep arm of the sound; which i have named baillie's cove, in honour of a relative of the lamented mr. hood. as it was too late to return, we encamped, and by walking across the country discovered the river, whose mouth being barred by low sandy islands and banks, was not perceived when we passed it. course and distance from galena point to this encampment were s.e.3/4s.--forty-one miles. from the accounts of black-meat{31} and boileau at fort chipewyan, we considered this river to be the anatessy; and cape barrow to be the projection which they supposed to be the n.e. termination of america. the outline of the coast, indeed, bears some resemblance to the chart they sketched; and the distance of this river from the copper mine, nearly coincides with what we estimated the anatessy to be, from their statements. in our subsequent journey, however, across the barren grounds we ascertained that this conjecture was wrong, and that the anatessy, which is known to come from rum lake, must fall into the sea to the eastward of this place. our stock of provision being now reduced to eight days' consumption, it had become a matter of the first importance to obtain a supply; and as we had learned from terregannoeuck that the esquimaux frequent the rivers at this season, i determined on seeking a communication with them here, in the hope of obtaining relief for our present wants, or even shelter for the winter if the season should prevent us from returning either to the hook's party, or fort enterprise; and i was the more induced to take this step at this time, as several deer had been seen to-day, and the river appeared good for fishing: which led me to hope we might support the party during our stay, if not add to our stock by our own exertions in hunting and fishing. augustus, junius, and hepburn, were therefore furnished with the necessary presents, and desired to go along the bank of the river as far as they could, on the following day, in search of the natives, to obtain provision and leather, as well as information respecting the coast. they started at four a.m., and at the same time our hunters were sent off in search of deer: and the rest of the party proceeded in the canoes to the first cascade in the river, at the foot of which we encamped, and set four nets. this cascade, produced by a ridge of rocks crossing the stream, is about three or four feet in height, and about two hundred and fifty yards wide. its position by our observations in latitude 67° 19' 23" n., longitude 109° 44' 30" w., variation 41° 43' 22", dip 88° 58' 48". i have named this river hood, as a small tribute to the memory of our lamented friend and companion. it is from three to four hundred yards wide below the cascade, but in many places very shallow. the banks, bottom, and adjacent hills, are formed of a mixture of sand and clay. the ground was overspread with small willows and the dwarf birch, both too diminutive for fuel; and the stream brought down no drift wood. we were mortified to find the nets only procured one salmon and five white fish, and that we had to make another inroad upon our dried meat. _august 1_.--at two this morning the hunters returned with two small deer and a brown bear. augustus and junius arrived at the same time, having traced the river twelve miles further up, without discovering any vestige of inhabitants. we had now an opportunity of gratifying our curiosity respecting the bear so much dreaded by the indians, and of whose strength and ferocity we had heard such terrible accounts. it proved to be a lean male of a yellowish brown colour, and not longer than a common black bear. it made a feeble attempt to defend itself, and was easily despatched. the flesh was brought to the tent, but our fastidious voyagers supposing, from its leanness, that the animal had been sickly, declined eating it; the officers, however, being less scrupulous, boiled the paws, and found them excellent. we embarked at ten a.m., and proceeding down the river, took on board another deer that had been killed by crédit last evening. we then ran along the eastern shore of arctic sound, distinguished by the name of banks' peninsula, in honour of the late right honourable sir joseph banks, president of the royal society; and rounding point wollaston at its eastern extremity, opened another extensive sheet of water; and the remainder of the afternoon was spent in endeavouring to ascertain, from the tops of the hills, whether it was another bay, or merely a passage enclosed by a chain of islands. appearances rather favouring the latter opinion, we determined on proceeding through it to the southward. during the delay four more deer were killed, all young and lean. it appeared that the coast is pretty well frequented by rein-deer at this season; but it was rather singular, that hitherto we had killed none (excepting the first) but young ones of last season, which were all too lean to have been eaten by any but persons who had no choice. we paddled along the western shore with the intention of encamping, but were prevented by the want of drift wood on the beach. this induced us to make a traverse to an island, where we put up at midnight, having found a small bay, whose shores furnished us with a little fire-wood. a heavy gale came on from the westward, attended with constant rain, and one of the squalls overthrew our tents. the course and distance made this day were north-east sixteen miles and a half. i may here mention, that arctic sound appeared the most convenient, and perhaps the best place for ships to anchor that we had seen along the coast; at this season especially, when they might increase their stock of provision, if provided with good marksmen. deer are numerous in its vicinity, musk-oxen also may be found up hood's river, and the fine sandy bottom of the bays promises favourably for fishing with the seine. the hills on the western side are even in their outline and slope gradually to the water's edge. the rocks give place to an alluvial sandy soil, towards the bottom of the sound; but on banks' peninsula rocky eminences again prevail, which are rugged and uneven, but intersected by valleys, at this time green; along their base is a fine sandy beach. from point wollaston to our encampment the coast is skirted with trap cliffs, which have often a columnar form, and are very difficult of access. these cliffs lie in ranges parallel to the shore, and the deer that we killed were feeding in small marshy grassy plats that lie in the valleys between them. being detained by the continuance of the gale, on the 2d of august some men were sent out to hunt, and the officers visited the tops of the highest hills, to ascertain the best channels to be pursued. the wind abating, at ten p.m., we embarked and paddled round the southern end of the island, and continued our course to the south-east. much doubt at this time prevailed as to the land on the right being the main shore, or merely a chain of islands. the latter opinion was strengthened by the broken appearance of the land, and the extensive view we had up brown's channel, (named after my friend mr. robert brown,) the mouth of which we passed, and were in some apprehension of being led away from the main shore; and, perhaps, after passing through a group of islands, of coming to a traverse greater than we durst venture upon in canoes: on the other hand, the continuous appearance of the land on the north side of the channel, and its tending to the southward excited the fear that we were entering a deep inlet. in this state of doubt we landed often, and endeavoured, from the summits of the highest hills adjoining the shore, to ascertain the true nature of the coast, but in vain, and we continued paddling through the channel all night against a fresh breeze, which, at half-past four, increased to a violent gale, and compelled us to land. the gale diminished a short time after noon on the 3d, and permitted us to re-embark and continue our voyage until four p.m., when it returned with its former violence, and finally obliged us to encamp, having come twenty-four miles on a south-east three-quarter south course. from the want of drift wood to make a fire we had fasted all day, and were under the necessity, in the evening, of serving out pemmican, which was done with much reluctance, especially as we had some fresh deers' meat remaining. the inlet, when viewed from a high hill adjoining to our encampment, exhibited so many arms, that the course we ought to pursue was more uncertain than ever. it was absolutely necessary, however, to see the end of it before we could determine that it was not a strait. starting at three a.m., on the 4th, we paddled the whole day through channels, from two to five or six miles wide, all tending to the southward. in the course of the day's voyage we ascertained, that the land which we had seen on our right since yesterday morning, consisted of several large islands, which have been distinguished by the names of goulburn, elliott, and young; but the land on our left preserved its unbroken appearance, and when we encamped, we were still uncertain whether it was the eastern side of a deep sound or merely a large island. it differed remarkably from the main shore, being very rugged, rocky, and sterile, whereas the outline of the main on the opposite side was even, and its hills covered with a comparatively good sward of grass, exhibiting little naked rock. there was no drift timber, but the shores near the encampment were strewed with small pieces of willow, which indicated our vicinity to the mouth of a river. this fuel enabled us to make a hearty supper from a small deer killed this evening. the shallows we passed this day were covered with shoals of _capelin_, the angmaggoeük of the esquimaux. it was known to augustus, who informed us that it frequents the coast of hudson's bay, and is delicate eating. the course and distance made was, south by east-half-east, thirty-three miles. after paddling twelve miles in the morning of the 5th, we had the mortification to find the inlet terminated by a river; the size of which we could not ascertain, as the entrance was blocked by shoals. its mouth lies in latitude 66° 30' n., longitude 107° 53' w. i have named this stream back, as a mark of my friendship for my associate[11]. we were somewhat consoled for the loss of time in exploring this inlet, by the success of junius in killing a musk-ox, the first we had seen on the coast; and afterwards by the acquisition of the flesh of a bear, that was shot as we were returning up the eastern side in the evening. the latter proved to be a female, in very excellent condition; and our canadian voyagers, whose appetite for fat meat is insatiable, were delighted. [11] from subsequent conversation with the copper indians, we were inclined to suppose this may be the thlueetessy{32}, described by black-meat, mentioned in a former part of the narrative. we encamped on the shores of a sandy bay, and set the nets; and finding a quantity of dried willows on the beach, we were enabled to cook the bear's flesh, which was superior to any meat we tasted on the coast. the water fell two feet at this place during the night. our nets produced a great variety of fish, namely, a salmon-trout, some round fish, tittameg, bleak, star-fish, several herrings, and a flat fish resembling plaice, but covered on the back with horny excrescences. on the 6th we were detained in the encampment by stormy weather until five p.m., when we embarked and paddled along the northern shore of the inlet; the weather still continuing foggy, but the wind moderate. observing on the beach a she bear with three young ones, we landed a party to attack them: but being approached without due caution, they took the alarm and scaled a precipitous rocky hill, with a rapidity that baffled all pursuit. at eight o'clock, the fog changing into rain, we encamped. many seals were seen this day, but as they kept in deep water we did not fire at them. on august 7th the atmosphere was charged with fog and rain all the day, but as the wind was moderate we pursued our journey; our situation, however, was very unpleasant, being quite wet and without room to stretch a limb, much less to obtain warmth by exercise. we passed a cove which i have named after my friend mr. w. h. tinney; and proceeded along the coast until five p.m., when we put up on a rocky point nearly opposite to our encampment on the 3d, having come twenty-three miles on a north-north-west course. we were detained on the 8th by a northerly gale, which blew violently throughout the day, attended by fog and rain. some of the men went out to hunt, but they saw no other animal than a white wolf, which could not be approached. the fresh meat being expended, a little pemmican was served out this evening. the gale abated on the morning of the 9th; and the sea, which it had raised, having greatly subsided, we embarked at seven a.m., and after paddling three or four miles, opened sir j. a. gordon's bay, into which we penetrated thirteen miles, and then discovered from the summit of a hill that it would be vain to proceed in this direction, in search of a passage out of the inlet. our breakfast diminished our provision to two bags of pemmican, and a single meal of dried meat. the men began to apprehend absolute want of food, and we had to listen to their gloomy forebodings of the deer entirely quitting the coast in a few days. as we were embarking, however, a large bear was discovered on the opposite shore, which we had the good fortune to kill; and the sight of this fat meat relieved their fears for the present. dr. richardson found in the stomach of this animal the remains of a seal, several marmots (_arctomys richardsonii_), a large quantity of the liquorice root of mackenzie (_hedysarum_) which is common on these shores, and some berries. there was also intermixed with these substances a small quantity of grass. we got again into the main inlet, and paddled along its eastern shore until forty minutes after eight a.m. when we encamped in a small cove. we found a single log of drift wood; it was pine, and sufficiently large to enable us to cook a portion of the bear, which had a slight fishy taste, but was deemed very palatable. _august 10_.--we followed up the east border of the inlet about twenty-four miles, and at length emerged into the open sea; a body of islands to the westward concealing the channel by which we had entered. here our progress was arrested by returning bad weather. we killed a bear and its young cub of this year, on the beach near our encampment. we heartily congratulated ourselves at having arrived at the eastern entrance of this inlet, which had cost us nine invaluable days in exploring. it contains several secure harbours, especially near the mouth of back's river, where there is a sandy bottom in forty fathoms. on the 3d and 4th of august we observed a fall of more than two feet in the water during the night. there are various irregular and partial currents in the inlet, which may be attributed to the wind. i have distinguished it by the name of bathurst's inlet, after the noble secretary of state, under whose orders i had the honour to act. it runs about seventy-six miles south-east from cape everitt, but in coasting its shores we went about one hundred and seventy-four geographical miles. it is remarkable that none of the indians with whom we had spoken mentioned this inlet; and we subsequently learned, that in their journeys, they strike across from the mouth of one river to the mouth of another, without tracing the intermediate line of coast. _august 11_.--embarking at five a.m. we rounded point everitt, and then encountered a strong breeze and heavy swell, which by causing the canoes to pitch very much, greatly impeded our progress. some deer being seen grazing in a valley near the beach, we landed and sent st. germain and adam in pursuit of them, who soon killed three which were very small and lean. their appearance, however, quite revived the spirits of our men, who had suspected that the deer had retired to the woods. it would appear, from our not having seen any in passing along the shores of bathurst's inlet, that at this season they confine themselves to the sea-coast and the islands. the magpie-berries (_arbutus alpina_) were found quite ripe at this place, and very abundant on the acclivities of the hills. we also descended the highest hill and gained a view of a distant chain of islands, extending as far as the eye could reach, and perceived a few patches of ice still lingering round to some of them; but in every other part the sea was quite open. resuming our voyage after noon, we proceeded along the coast, which is fringed by islands; and at five p.m., entered another bay, where we were for some time involved in our late difficulties by the intricacy of the passages; but we cleared them in the afternoon, and encamped near the northern entrance of the bay, at a spot which had recently been visited by a small party of esquimaux, as the remains of some eggs containing young, were lying beside some half-burnt fire-wood. there were also several piles of stones put up by them. i have named this bay after my friend, captain david buchan, of the royal navy. it appears to be a safe anchorage, well sheltered from the wind and sea, by islands; the bottom is sandy, the shores high, and composed of red sand-stone. two deer were seen on its beach, but could not be approached. the distance we made to-day was eighteen miles and three quarters. embarking at four on the morning of the 12th, we proceeded against a fresh piercing north-east wind, which raised the waves to a height that quite terrified our people, accustomed only to the navigation of rivers and lakes. we were obliged, however, to persevere in our advance, feeling as we did, that the short season for our operations was hastening away; but after rounding cape croker the wind became so strong that we could proceed no further. the distance we had made was only six miles on a north-east by east course. the shore on which we encamped is formed of the debris of red sand-stone, and is destitute of vegetation. the beach furnished no drift wood, and we dispensed with our usual meal rather than expend our pemmican. several deer were seen, but the hunters could not approach them; they killed two swans. we observed the latitude 68° 1' 20", where we had halted to breakfast this morning. _august 13_.--though the wind was not much diminished, we were urged, by the want of fire-wood, to venture upon proceeding. we paddled close to the shore for some miles, and then ran before the breeze with reefed sails, scarcely two feet in depth. both the canoes received much water, and one of them struck twice on sunken rocks. at the end of eighteen miles we halted to breakfast in a bay, which i have named after vice-admiral sir william johnstone hope, one of the lords of the admiralty. we found here a considerable quantity of small willows, such as are brought down by the rivers we had hitherto seen; and hence we judged, that a river discharges itself into the bottom of this bay. a paddle was also found, which augustus, on examination, declared to be made after the fashion of the white goose esquimaux, a tribe with whom his countrymen had had some trading communication, as has been mentioned in a former part of the narrative. this morning we passed the embouchure of a pretty large stream, and saw the vestiges of an esquimaux encampment, not above a month old. having obtained the latitude 68° 6' 40" n., we recommenced our voyage under sail, taking the precaution to embark all the pieces of willow we could collect, as we had found the drift-wood become more scarce as we advanced. our course was directed to a distant point, which we supposed to be a cape, and the land stretching to the westward of it to be islands; but we soon found ourselves in an extensive bay, from which no outlet could be perceived but the one by which we had entered. on examination, however, from the top of a hill, we perceived a winding shallow passage running to the north-west, which we followed for a short time, and then encamped having come twenty-three miles north by east half east. some articles left by the esquimaux attracted our attention; we found a winter sledge raised upon four stones, with some snow-shovels, and a small piece of whalebone. an ice-chisel, a knife and some beads were left at this pile. the shores of this bay, which i have named after sir george warrender, are low and clayey, and the country for many miles is level, and much intersected with water; but we had not leisure to ascertain whether they were branches of the bay or fresh-water lakes. some white geese were seen this evening, and some young gray ones were caught on the beach being unable to fly. we fired at two rein-deer, but without success. on august 14th we paddled the whole day along the northern shores of the sound, returning towards its mouth. the land which we were now tracing is generally so flat, that it could not be descried from the canoes at the distance of four miles, and is invisible from the opposite side of the sound, otherwise a short traverse might have saved us some days. the few eminences that are on this side were mistaken for islands when seen from the opposite shore; they are for the most part cliffs of basalt, and are not above one hundred feet high; the subjacent strata are of white sand-stone. the rocks are mostly confined to the capes and shores, the soil inland being flat, clayey, and barren. most of the headlands shewed traces of visits from the esquimaux, but none of them recent. many ducks were seen, belonging to a species termed by the voyagers from their cry, "caccawees." we also saw some gray geese and swans. the only seal we procured during our voyage, was killed this day; it happened to be blind, and our men imagining it to be in bad health would not taste the flesh; we, however, were less nice. we encamped at the end of twenty-four miles' march, on the north-west side of a bay, to which i have given the name of my friend capt. parry, now employed in the interesting research for a north-west passage. drift wood had become very scarce, and we found none near the encampment; a fire, however, was not required, as we served out pemmican for supper, and the evening was unusually warm. on the following morning the breeze was fresh and the waves rather high. in paddling along the west side of parry's bay, we saw several deer, but owing to the openness of the country, the hunters could not approach them. they killed, however, two swans that were moulting, several cranes and many gray geese. we procured also some caccawees, which were then moulting, and assembled in immense flocks. in the evening, having rounded point beechy, and passed hurd's islands, we were exposed to much inconvenience and danger from a heavy rolling sea; the canoes receiving many severe blows, and shipping a good deal of water, which induced us to encamp at five p.m. opposite to cape croker, which we had passed on the morning of the 12th; the channel which lay between our situation and it, being about seven miles wide. we had now reached the northern point of entrance into this sound, which i have named in honour of lord viscount melville, the first lord of the admiralty. it is thirty miles wide from east to west, and twenty from north to south; and in coasting it we had sailed eighty-seven and a quarter geographical miles. shortly after the tents were pitched, mr. back reported from the steersmen that both canoes had sustained material injury during this day's voyage. i found on examination that fifteen timbers of the first canoe were broken, some of them in two places, and that the second canoe was so loose in the frame that its timbers could not be bound in the usual secure manner, and consequently there was danger of its bark separating from the gunwales if exposed to a heavy sea. distressing as were these circumstances, they gave me less pain than the discovery that our people, who had hitherto displayed in following us through dangers and difficulties no less novel than appalling to them, a courage beyond our expectation, now felt serious apprehensions for their safety, which so possessed their minds that they were not restrained even by the presence of their officers from expressing them. their fears, we imagined, had been principally excited by the interpreters, st. germain and adam, who from the outset had foreboded every calamity; and we now strongly suspected that their recent want of success in hunting had proceeded from an intentional relaxation in their efforts to kill deer in order that{33} the want of provision might compel us to put a period to our voyage. i must now mention that many concurrent circumstances had caused me, during the few last days, to meditate on the approach of this painful necessity. the strong breezes we had encountered for some days, led me to fear that the season was breaking up, and severe weather would soon ensue, which we could not sustain in a country destitute of fuel. our stock of provision was now reduced to a quantity of pemmican only sufficient for three days' consumption, and the prospect of increasing it was not encouraging, for though rein-deer were seen, they could not be easily approached on the level shores we were now coasting, besides it was to be apprehended they would soon migrate to the south. it was evident that the time spent in exploring the arctic and melville sounds, and bathurst's inlet, had precluded the hope of reaching repulse bay, which at the outset of the voyage we had fondly cherished; and it was equally obvious that as our distance from any of the trading establishments would increase as we proceeded, the hazardous traverse across the barren grounds, which we should have to make, if compelled to abandon the canoes upon any part of the coast, would become greater. i this evening communicated to the officers my sentiments on these points, as well as respecting our return, and was happy to find that their opinions coincided with my own. we were all convinced of the necessity of putting a speedy termination to our advance, as our hope of meeting the esquimaux and procuring provision from them, could now scarcely be retained; but yet we were desirous of proceeding, until the land should be seen trending again to the eastward; that we might be satisfied of its separation from what we had conceived, in passing from cape barrow to bathurst's inlet, to be a great chain of islands. as it was needful, however, at all events, to set a limit to our voyage, i announced my determination of returning after four days' examination, unless, indeed, we should previously meet the esquimaux, and be enabled to make some arrangement for passing the winter with them. this communication was joyfully received by the men, and we hoped that the industry of our hunters being once more excited, we should be able to add to our stock of provision. it may here be remarked that we observed the first regular return of the tides in warrender's and parry's bays; but their set could not be ascertained. the rise of water did not amount to more than two feet. course to-day south one quarter east--nine miles and a quarter. _august 16_.--some rain fell in the night, but the morning was unusually fine. we set forward at five a.m., and the men paddled cheerfully along the coast for ten miles, when a dense fog caused us to land on slate-clay point. here we found more traces of the esquimaux, and the skull of a man placed between two rocks. the fog dispersed at noon, and we discerned a group of islands to the northward, which i have named after vice admiral sir george cockburn, one of the lords of the admiralty. re-embarking, we rounded the point and entered walker's bay, (so called after my friend admiral walker,) where, as in other instances, the low beach which lay between several high trap cliffs, could not be distinguished until we had coasted down the east side nearly to the bottom of the bay. when the continuity of the land was perceived, we crossed to the western shore, and on landing, discovered a channel leading through a group of islands. having passed through this channel, we ran under sail by the porden islands, across riley's bay, and rounding a cape which now bears the name of my lamented friend captain flinders, had the pleasure to find the coast trending north-north-east, with the sea in the offing unusually clear of islands; a circumstance which afforded matter of wonder to our canadians, who had not previously had an uninterrupted view of the ocean. our course was continued along the coast until eight p.m. when a change in the wind and a threatening thunder squall induced us to encamp; but the water was so shallow, that we found some difficulty in approaching the shore. large pieces of drift-wood gave us assurance that we had finally escaped from the bays. our tents were scarcely pitched before we were assailed by a heavy squall and rain, which was succeeded by a violent gale from west-north-west, which thrice overset the tents during the night. the wind blew with equal violence on the following day, and the sea rolled furiously upon the beach. the canadians had now an opportunity of witnessing the effect of a storm upon the sea; and the sight increased their desire of quitting it. our hunters were sent out, and saw many deer, but the flatness of the country defeated their attempts to approach them; they brought, however, a few unfledged geese. as there was no appearance of increasing our stock of provision, the allowance was limited to a handful of pemmican, and a small portion of portable soup to each man per day. the thermometer this afternoon stood to 41°. the following observations were obtained: latitude 68° 18' 50" n., longitude 110° 5' 15" w.; but 109° 25' 00" w. was used in the construction of the chart, as the chronometers were found, on our return to hood's river, to have altered their rates; variation 44° 15' 46" e., and dip of the needle 89° 31' 12". on august 18th the stormy weather and sea continuing, there was no prospect of our being able to embark. dr. richardson, mr. back, and i, therefore, set out on foot to discover whether the land within a day's march, inclined more to the east. we went from ten to twelve miles along the coast, which continued flat, and kept the same direction as the encampment. the most distant land we saw had the same bearing north-north-east, and appeared like two islands, which we estimated to be six or seven miles off; the shore on their side seemingly tended more to the east, so that is it probable point turnagain, for so this spot was named, forms the pitch of a low flat cape. augustus killed a deer in the afternoon, but the men were not able to find it. the hunters found the burrows of a number of white foxes, and hepburn killed one of these animals, which proved excellent eating, equal to the young geese, with which it was boiled, and far superior to the lean deer we had upon the coast. large flocks of geese passed over the tents, flying to the southward. the lowest temperature to-day was 38°. though it will appear from the chart, that the position of point turnagain is only six degrees and a half to the east of the mouth of the copper-mine river; we sailed, in tracing the deeply-indented coast, five hundred and fifty-five geographic miles, which is little less than the direct distance between the copper-mine river and repulse bay; supposing the latter to be in the longitude assigned to it by middleton. when the many perplexing incidents which occurred during the survey of the coast are considered, in connexion with the shortness of the period during which operations of the kind can be carried on, and the distance we had to travel before we could gain a place of shelter for the winter, i trust it will be judged that we prosecuted the enterprise as far as was prudent, and abandoned it only under a well-founded conviction that a further advance would endanger the lives of the whole party, and prevent the knowledge of what had been done from reaching england. the active assistance i received from the officers, in contending with the fears of the men, demands my warmest gratitude. our researches, as far as they have gone, favour the opinion of those who contend for the practicability of a north-west passage. the general line of coast probably runs east and west, nearly in the latitude assigned to mackenzie's river, the sound into which kotzebue entered, and repulse bay; and i think there is little doubt of a continued sea, in or about that line of direction. the existence of whales too, on this part of the coast, evidenced by the whalebone we found in esquimaux cove, may be considered as an argument for an open sea; and a connexion with hudson's bay is rendered more probable from the same kind of fish abounding on the coasts we visited, and on those to the north of churchill river. i allude more particularly to the capelin or salmo arcticus, which we found in large shoals in bathurst's inlet, and which not only abounds, as augustus told us, in the bays in his country, but swarms in the greenland firths[12]. the portion of the sea over which we passed is navigable for vessels of any size; the ice we met, particularly after quitting detention harbour, would not have arrested a strong boat. the chain of islands affords shelter from all heavy seas, and there are good harbours at convenient distances. i entertain, indeed, sanguine hopes that the skill and exertions of my friend captain parry will soon render this question no longer problematical. his task is doubtless an arduous one, and, if ultimately successful, may occupy two and perhaps three seasons; but confiding as i do, from personal knowledge, in his perseverance and talent for surmounting difficulties, the strength of his ships, and the abundance of provisions with which they are stored, i have very little apprehension of his safety. as i understand his object was to keep the coast of america close on board, he will find in the spring of the year, before the breaking up of the ice can permit him to pursue his voyage, herds of deer flocking in abundance to all parts of the coast, which may be procured without difficulty; and, even later in the season, additions to his stock of provision may be obtained on many parts of the coast, should circumstances give him leisure to send out hunting parties. with the trawl or seine nets also, he may almost every where get abundance of fish even without retarding his progress. under these circumstances i do not conceive that he runs any hazard of wanting provisions, should his voyage be prolonged even beyond the latest period of time which is calculated upon. drift timber may be gathered at many places in considerable quantities, and there is a fair prospect of his opening a communication with the esquimaux, who come down to the coast to kill seals in the spring, previous to the ice breaking up; and from whom, if he succeeds in conciliating their good-will, he may obtain provision, and much useful assistance. [12] arctic zoology, vol. ii, p. 394. if he makes for copper-mine river, as he probably will do, he will not find it in the longitude as laid down on the charts; but he will probably find, what would be more interesting to him, a post, which we erected on the 26th august at the mouth of hood's river, which is nearly, as will appear hereafter, in that longitude, with a flag upon it, and a letter at the foot of it, which may convey to him some useful information. it is possible, however, that he may keep outside of the range of islands which skirt this part of the coast. chapter xii. journey across the barren grounds--difficulty and delay in crossing copper-mine river--melancholy and fatal results thereof--extreme misery of the whole party--murder of mr. hood--death of several of the canadians--desolate state of fort enterprise--distress suffered at that place--dr. richardson's narrative--mr. back's narrative--conclusion. 1821. august 17. my original intention, whenever the season should compel us to relinquish the survey, had been to return by the copper-mine river, and in pursuance of my arrangement with the hook to travel to slave lake through the line of woods extending thither by the great bear and marten lakes, but our scanty stock of provision and the length of the voyage rendered it necessary to make for a nearer place. we had already found that the country, between cape barrow and the copper-mine river, would not supply our wants, and this it seemed probable would now be still more the case; besides, at this advanced season, we expected the frequent recurrence of gales, which would cause great detention, if not danger in proceeding along that very rocky part of the coast. i determined, therefore, to make at once for arctic sound, where we had found the animals more numerous than at any other place; and entering hood's river, to advance up that stream as far as it was navigable, and then to construct small canoes out of the materials of the larger ones, which could be carried in crossing the barren grounds to fort enterprise. _august 19_.--we were almost beaten out of our comfortless abodes by rain during the night, and this morning the gale continued without diminution. the thermometer fell to 33°. two men were sent with junius to search for the deer which augustus had killed. junius returned in the evening, bringing part of the meat, but owing to the thickness of the weather, his companions parted from him and did not make their appearance. divine service was read. on the 20th we were presented with the most chilling prospect, the small pools of water being frozen over, the ground covered with snow, and the thermometer at the freezing point at mid-day. flights of geese were passing to the southward. the wind, however, was more moderate, having changed to the eastward. considerable anxiety prevailing respecting belanger and michel, the two men who strayed from junius yesterday, the rest were sent out to look for them. the search was successful, and they all returned in the evening. the stragglers were much fatigued, and had suffered severely from the cold, one of them having his thighs frozen, and what under our present circumstances was most grievous, they had thrown away all the meat. the wind during the night returned to the north-west quarter, blew more violently than ever, and raised a very turbulent sea. the next day did not improve our condition, the snow remained on the ground, and the small pools were frozen. our hunters were sent out, but they returned after a fatiguing day's march without having seen any animals. we made a scanty meal off a handful of pemmican, after which only half a bag remained. the wind abated after midnight, and the surf diminished rapidly, which caused us to be on the alert at a very early hour on the 22d, but we had to wait until six a.m. for the return of augustus, who had continued out all night on an unsuccessful pursuit of deer. it appears that he had walked a few miles farther along the coast, than the party had done on the 18th, and from a sketch he drew on the sand, we were confirmed in our former opinion that the shore inclined more to the eastward beyond point turnagain. he also drew a river of considerable size, that discharges its waters into walker's bay; on the banks of which stream he saw a piece of wood, such as the esquimaux use in producing fire, and other marks so fresh that he supposed they had recently visited the spot. we therefore left several iron materials for them; and embarking without delay, prepared to retrace our steps[13]. our men, cheered by the prospect of returning, shewed the utmost alacrity; and, paddling with unusual vigour, carried us across riley's and walker's bays, a distance of twenty miles, before noon, when we landed on slate-clay{34} point, as the wind had freshened too much to permit us to continue the voyage. the whole party went to hunt, but returned without success in the evening, drenched with the heavy rain which commenced soon after they had set out. several deer were seen, but could not be approached in this naked country; and as our stock of pemmican did not admit of serving out two meals, we went dinnerless to bed. [13] it is a curious coincidence that our expedition left point turnagain on august 22d,--on the same day that captain parry sailed out of repulse bay. the parties were then distant from each other 539 miles. soon after our departure this day, a sealed tin-case, sufficiently buoyant to float, was thrown overboard, containing a short account of our proceedings, and the position of the most conspicuous points. the wind blew off the land, the water was smooth, and as the sea is in this part more free from islands than in any other, there was every probability of its being driven off the shore into the current; which as i have before mentioned, we suppose, from the circumstance of mackenzie's river being the only known stream that brings down the wood we have found along the shores, to set to the eastward. _august 23_.--a severe frost caused us to pass a comfortless night. at two p.m. we set sail, and the men voluntarily launched out to make a traverse of fifteen miles across melville sound, before a strong wind and heavy sea. the privation of food, under which our voyagers were then labouring, absorbed every other terror; otherwise the most powerful persuasion could not have induced them to attempt such a traverse. it was with the utmost difficulty that the canoes were kept from turning their broadsides to the waves, though we sometimes steered with all the paddles. one of them narrowly escaped being overset by this accident, which occurred in a mid-channel, where the waves were so high that the masthead of our canoe was often hid from the other, though it was sailing within hail. the traverse, however, was made; we were then near a high rocky lee shore, on which a heavy surf was beating. the wind being on the beam, the canoes drifted fast to leeward; and, on rounding a point, the recoil of the sea from the rocks was so great that they were with difficulty kept from foundering. we looked in vain for a sheltered bay to land in; but, at length, being unable to weather another point, we were obliged to put ashore on the open beach, which fortunately was sandy at this spot. the debarkation was effected fortunately, without further injury than splitting the head of the second canoe, which was easily repaired. our encampment being near the spot where we killed the deer on the 11th, almost the whole party went out to hunt, but returned in the evening without having seen any game. the berries, however, were ripe and plentiful, and, with the addition of some country tea, furnished a supper. there were some showers in the afternoon, and the weather was cold, the thermometer being 42°, but the evening and night were calm and fine. it may be remarked that the musquitoes disappeared when the late gales commenced. _august 24_.--embarking at three a.m., we stretched across the eastern entrance of bathurst's inlet, and arrived at an island, which i have named after the right hon. colonel barry, of newton barry. some deer being seen on the beach, the hunters went in pursuit of them, and succeeded in killing three females, which enabled us to save our last remaining meal of pemmican. they saw also some fresh tracks of musk-oxen on the banks of a small stream which flowed into a lake in the centre of the island. these animals must have crossed a channel, at least, three miles wide, to reach the nearest of these islands. some specimens of variegated pebbles and jasper were found here imbedded in the amygdaloidal rock. re-embarking at two p.m., and continuing through what was supposed to be a channel between two islands, we found our passage barred by a gravelly isthmus of only ten yards in width; the canoes and cargoes were carried across it, and we passed into bathurst's inlet through another similar channel, bounded on both sides by steep rocky hills. the wind then changing from s.e. to n.w. brought heavy rain, and we encamped at seven p.m., having advanced eighteen miles. _august 25_.--starting this morning with a fresh breeze in our favour, we soon reached that part of barry's island where the canoes were detained on the 2d and 3d of this month, and contrary to what we then experienced, the deer were now plentiful. the hunters killed two, and relieved us from all apprehension of immediate want of food. from their assembling at this time in such numbers on the islands nearest to the coast, we conjectured that they were about to retire to the main shore. those we saw were generally females with their young, and all of them very lean. the wind continued in the same direction until we had rounded point wollaston, and then changed to a quarter, which enabled us to steer for hood's river, which we ascended as high as the first rapid and encamped. here terminated our voyage on the arctic sea, during which we had gone over six hundred and fifty geographical miles. our canadian voyagers could not restrain their joy at having turned their backs on the sea, and passed the evening in talking over their past adventures with much humour and no little exaggeration. the consideration that the most painful, and certainly the most hazardous part of the journey was yet to come, did not depress their spirits at all. it is due to their character to mention that they displayed much courage in encountering the dangers of the sea, magnified to them by their novelty. the shores between cape barrow and cape flinders, including the extensive branches of arctic and melville sounds, and bathurst's inlet, may be comprehended in one great gulf, which i have distinguished by the appellation of george iv.'s coronation gulf, in honour of his most gracious majesty, the latter name being added to mark the time of its discovery. the archipelago of islands which fringe the coast from copper-mine river to point turnagain, i have named in honour of his royal highness the duke of york. it may be deserving of notice that the extremes in temperature of the sea water during our voyage were 53° and 35°, but its general temperature was between 43° and 48°. throughout our return from point turnagain we observed that the sea had risen several feet above marks left at our former encampments. this may, perhaps, be attributed to the north-west gales. _august 26_.--previous to our departure this morning an assortment of iron materials, beads, looking-glasses, and other articles were put up in a conspicuous situation for the esquimaux, and the english union was planted on the loftiest sand-hill, where it might be seen by any ships passing in the offing. here also, was deposited in a tin box, a letter containing an outline of our proceedings, the latitude and longitude of the principal places, and the course we intended to pursue towards slave lake. embarking at eight a.m. we proceeded up the river which is full of sandy shoals, but sufficiently deep for canoes in the channels. it is from one hundred to two hundred yards wide, and is bounded by high and steep banks of clay. we encamped at a cascade of eighteen or twenty feet high, which is produced by a ridge of rock crossing the river, and the nets were set. a mile below this cascade hood's river is joined by a stream half its own size, which i have called james' branch. bear and deer tracks had been numerous on the banks of the river when we were here before, but not a single recent one was to be seen at this time. crédit, however, killed a small deer at some distance inland, which, with the addition of berries, furnished a delightful repast this evening. the weather was remarkably fine, and the temperature so mild, that the musquitoes again made their appearance, but not in any great numbers. our distance made to-day was not more than six miles. the next morning the net furnished us with ten white fish and trout. having made a further deposit of iron work for the esquimaux we pursued our voyage up the river, but the shoals and rapids in this part were so frequent, that we walked along the banks the whole day, and the crews laboured hard in carrying the canoes thus lightened over the shoals or dragging them up the rapids, yet our journey in a direct line was only about seven miles. in the evening we encamped at the lower end of a narrow chasm through which the river flows for upwards of a mile. the walls of this chasm are upwards of two hundred feet high, quite perpendicular, and in some places only a few yards apart. the river precipitates itself into it over a rock, forming two magnificent and picturesque falls close to each other. the upper fall is about sixty feet high, and the lower one at least one hundred; but perhaps considerably more, for the narrowness of the chasm into which it fell prevented us from seeing its bottom, and we could merely discern the top of the spray far beneath our feet. the lower fall is divided into two, by an insulated column of rock which rises about forty feet above it. the whole descent of the river at this place probably exceeds two hundred and fifty feet. the rock is very fine felspathose sand-stone{35}. it has a smooth surface and a light red colour. i have named these magnificent cascades "wilberforce falls," as a tribute of my respect for that distinguished philanthropist{36} and christian. messrs. back and hood took beautiful sketches of this majestic scene. the river being surveyed from the summit of a hill, above these falls, appeared so rapid and shallow, that it seemed useless to attempt proceeding any farther in the large canoes. i therefore determined on constructing out of their materials two smaller ones of sufficient size to contain three persons, for the purpose of crossing any river that might obstruct our progress. this operation was accordingly commenced, and by the 31st both the canoes being finished, we prepared for our departure on the following day. the leather which had been preserved for making shoes was equally divided among the men, two pairs of flannel socks were given to each person, and such articles of warm clothing as remained, were issued to those who most required them. they were also furnished with one of the officers' tents. this being done, i communicated to the men my intention of proceeding in as direct a course as possible to the part of point lake, opposite our spring encampment, which was only distant one hundred and forty-nine miles in a straight line. they received the communication cheerfully, considered the journey to be short, and left me in high spirits, to arrange their own packages. the stores, books, _&c._, which were not absolutely necessary to be carried, were then put up in boxes to be left _en cache_ here, in order that the men's burdens might be as light as possible. the next morning was warm, and very fine. every one was on the alert at an early hour, being anxious to commence the journey. our luggage consisted of ammunition, nets, hatchets, ice chisels, astronomical instruments, clothing, blankets, three kettles, and the two canoes, which were each carried by one man. the officers carried such a portion of their own things as their strength would permit; the weight carried by each man was about ninety pounds, and with this we advanced at the rate of about a mile an hour, including rests. in the evening the hunters killed a lean cow, out of a large drove of musk-oxen; but the men were too much laden to carry more than a small portion of its flesh. the alluvial soil, which towards the mouth of the river spreads into plains, covered with grass and willows, was now giving place to a more barren and hilly country; so that we could but just collect sufficient brushwood{37} to cook our suppers. the part of the river we skirted this day was shallow, and flowed over a bed of sand; its width about one hundred and twenty yards. about midnight our tent was blown down by a squall, and we were completely drenched with rain before it could be re-pitched. on the morning of the 1st of september a fall of snow took place; the canoes became a cause of delay, from the difficulty of carrying them in a high wind, and they sustained much damage through the falls of those who had charge of them. the face of the country was broken by hills of moderate elevation, but the ground was plentifully strewed with small stones, which, to men bearing heavy burdens, and whose feet were protected only by soft moose skin shoes, occasioned great pain. at the end of eleven miles we encamped, and sent for a musk-ox and a deer, which st. germain and augustus had killed. the day was extremely cold, the thermometer varying between 34° and 36°. in the afternoon a heavy fall of snow took place, on the wind changing from north-west to south-west. we found no wood at the encampment, but made a fire of moss to cook the supper, and crept under our blankets for warmth. at sunrise the thermometer was at 31°, and the wind fresh from north-west; but the weather became mild in the course of the forenoon, and the snow disappeared from the gravel. the afternoon was remarkably fine, and the thermometer rose to 50°. one of the hunters killed a musk-ox. the hills in this part are lower, and more round-backed than those we passed yesterday, exhibiting but little naked rock; they were covered with lichens. having ascertained from the summit of the highest hill near the tents, that the river continued to preserve a west course; and fearing that by pursuing it further we might lose much time, and unnecessarily walk over a great deal of ground, i determined on quitting its banks the next day, and making as directly as we could for point lake. we accordingly followed the river on the 3d, only to the place where the musk-ox had been killed last evening, and after the meat was procured, crossed the river in our two canoes lashed together. we now emerged from the valley of the river, and entered a level, but very barren, country, varied only by small lakes and marshes, the ground being covered with small stones. many old tracks of rein-deer were seen in the clayey soil, and some more recent traces of the musk-ox. we encamped on the borders of wright's river, which flows to the eastward; the direct distance walked to-day being ten miles and three-quarters. the next morning was very fine, and, as the day advanced, the weather became quite warm. we set out at six a.m., and, having forded the river, walked over a perfectly level country, interspersed with small lakes, which communicated with each other, by streams running in various directions. no berry-bearing plants were found in this part, the surface of the earth being thinly covered in the moister places with a few grasses, and on the drier spots with lichens. having walked twelve miles and a half, we encamped at seven p.m., and distributed our last piece of pemmican, and a little arrow-root for supper, which afforded but a scanty meal. this evening was warm, but dark clouds overspread the sky. our men now began to find their burdens very oppressive, and were much fatigued by this day's march, but did not complain. one of them was lame from an inflammation in the knee. heavy rain commenced at midnight, and continued without intermission until five in the morning, when it was succeeded by snow on the wind changing to north-west, which soon increased to a violent gale. as we had nothing to eat, and were destitute of the means of making a fire, we remained in our beds all the day; but the covering of our blankets was insufficient to prevent us from feeling the severity of the frost, and suffering inconvenience from the drifting of the snow into our tents. there was no abatement of the storm next day; our tents were completely frozen, and the snow had drifted around them to a depth of three feet, and even in the inside there was a covering of several inches on our blankets. our suffering from cold, in a comfortless canvass tent in such weather, with the temperature at 20°, and without fire, will easily be imagined; it was, however, less than that which we felt from hunger. the morning of the 7th cleared up a little, but the wind was still strong, and the weather extremely cold. from the unusual continuance of the storm, we feared the winter had set in with all its rigour, and that by longer delay we should only be exposed to an accumulation of difficulties; we therefore prepared for our journey, although we were in a very unfit condition for starting, being weak from fasting, and our garments stiffened by the frost. we had no means of making a fire to thaw them, the moss, at all times difficult to kindle, being now covered with ice and snow. a considerable time was consumed in packing up the frozen tents and bed clothes, the wind blowing so strong that no one could keep his hands long out of his mittens. just as we were about to commence our march, i was seized with a fainting fit, in consequence of exhaustion and sudden exposure to the wind; but after eating a morsel of portable soup, i recovered so far as to be able to move on. i was unwilling at first to take this morsel of soup, which was diminishing the small and only remaining meal for the party; but several of the men urged me to it, with much kindness. the ground was covered a foot deep with snow, the margins of the lakes were incrusted with ice, and the swamps over which we had to pass were entirely frozen; but the ice not being sufficiently strong to bear us, we frequently plunged knee-deep in water. those who carried the canoes were repeatedly blown down by the violence of the wind, and they often fell, from making an insecure step on a slippery stone; on one of these occasions, the largest canoe was so much broken as to be rendered utterly unserviceable. this we felt was a serious disaster, as the remaining canoe having through mistake been made too small, it was doubtful whether it would be sufficient to carry us across a river. indeed we had found it necessary in crossing hood's river, to lash the two canoes together. as there was some suspicion that benoit, who carried the canoe, had broken it intentionally, he having on a former occasion been overheard by some of the men to say, that he would do so when he got it in charge, we closely examined him on the point; he roundly denied having used the expressions attributed to him, and insisted that it was broken by his falling accidentally; and as he brought men to attest the latter fact, who saw him tumble, we did not press the matter further. i may here remark that our people had murmured a good deal at having to carry two canoes, though they were informed of the necessity of taking both, in case it should be deemed advisable to divide the party; which it had been thought probable we should be obliged to do if animals proved scarce, in order to give the whole the better chance of procuring subsistence, and also for the purpose of sending forward some of the best walkers to search for indians, and to get them to meet us with supplies of provision. the power of doing this was now at an end. as the accident could not be remedied, we turned it to the best account, by making a fire of the bark and timbers of the broken vessel, and cooked the remainder of our portable soup and arrow-root. this was a scanty meal after three days' fasting, but it served to allay the pangs of hunger, and enabled us to proceed at a quicker pace than before. the depth of the snow caused us to march in indian file, that is in each other's steps; the voyagers taking it in turn to lead the party. a distant object was pointed out to this man in the direction we wished to take, and mr. hood followed immediately behind him, to renew the bearings, and keep him from deviating more than could be helped from the mark. it may be here observed, that we proceeded in this manner throughout our route across the barren grounds. in the afternoon we got into a more hilly country, where the ground was strewed with large stones. the surface of these was covered with lichens of the genus _gyrophora_, which the canadians term _tripe de roche_. a considerable quantity was gathered, and with half a partridge each, (which we shot in the course of the day,) furnished a slender supper, which we cooked with a few willows, dug up from beneath the snow. we passed a comfortless night in our damp clothes, but took the precaution of sleeping upon our socks and shoes to prevent them from freezing. this plan was afterwards adopted throughout the journey. at half past five in the morning we proceeded; and after walking about two miles, came to cracroft's river, flowing to the westward, with a very rapid current over a rocky channel. we had much difficulty in crossing this, the canoe being useless, not only from the bottom of the channel being obstructed by large stones, but also from its requiring gumming, an operation which, owing to the want of wood and the frost, we were unable to perform. however, after following the course of the river some distance we effected a passage by means of a range of large rocks that crossed a rapid. as the current was strong, and many of the rocks were covered with water to the depth of two or three feet, the men were exposed to much danger in carrying their heavy burdens across, and several of them actually slipped into the stream, but were immediately rescued by the others. junius went farther up the river in search of a better crossing-place and did not rejoin us this day. as several of the party were drenched from head to foot, and we were all wet to the middle, our clothes became stiff with the frost, and we walked with much pain for the remainder of the day. the march was continued to a late hour from our anxiety to rejoin the hunters who had gone before, but we were obliged to encamp at the end of ten miles and a quarter, without seeing them. our only meal to-day consisted of a partridge each (which the hunters shot,) mixed with _tripe de roche_. this repast, although scanty for men with appetites such as our daily fatigue created, proved a cheerful one, and was received with thankfulness. most of the men had to sleep in the open air, in consequence of the absence of crédit, who carried their tent; but we fortunately found an unusual quantity of roots to make a fire, which prevented their suffering much from the cold, though the thermometer was at 17°. we started at six on the 9th, and at the end of two miles regained our hunters, who were halting on the borders of a lake amidst a clump of stunted willows. this lake stretched to the westward as far as we could see, and its waters were discharged by a rapid stream one hundred and fifty yards wide. being entirely ignorant where we might be led by pursuing the course of the lake, and dreading the idea of going a mile unnecessarily out of the way, we determined on crossing the river if possible; and the canoe was gummed for the purpose, the willows furnishing us with fire. but we had to await the return of junius before we could make the traverse. in the mean time we gathered a little _tripe de roche_, and breakfasted upon it and a few partridges that were killed in the morning. st. germain and adam were sent upon some recent tracks of deer. junius arrived in the afternoon and informed us that he had seen a large herd of musk-oxen on the banks of cracroft's river, and had wounded one of them, but it escaped. he brought about four pounds of meat, the remains of a deer that had been devoured by the wolves. the poor fellow was much fatigued, having walked throughout the night, but as the weather was particularly favourable for our crossing the river, we could not allow him to rest. after he had taken some refreshment we proceeded to the river. the canoe being put into the water was found extremely ticklish, but it was managed with much dexterity by st. germain, adam, and peltier, who ferried over one passenger at a time, causing him to lie flat in its bottom, by no means a pleasant position, owing to its leakiness, but there was no alternative. the transport of the whole party was effected by five o'clock and we walked about two miles further and encamped, having come five miles and three quarters on a south-west course. two young alpine hares were shot by st. germain, which, with the small piece of meat brought in by junius, furnished the supper of the whole party. there was no _tripe de roche_ here. the country had now become decidedly hilly, and was covered with snow. the lake preserved its western direction, as far as i could see from the summit of the highest mountain near the encampment. we subsequently learned from the copper indians, that the part at which we had crossed the river was the _congecatha-wha-chaga_ of hearne, of which i had little idea at the time, not only from the difference of latitude, but also from its being so much further east of the mouth of the copper-mine river, than his track is laid down; he only making one degree and three quarters' difference of longitude, and we, upwards of four. had i been aware of the fact, several days' harassing march, and a disastrous accident would have been prevented by keeping on the western side of the lake, instead of crossing the river. we were informed also, that this river is the anatessy or river of strangers, and is supposed to fall into bathurst's inlet; but although the indians have visited its mouth, their description was not sufficient to identify it with any of the rivers whose mouths we had seen. it probably discharges itself in that part of the coast which was hid from our view by goulbourn's or elliott's islands. _september 10_.--we had a cold north wind, and the atmosphere was foggy. the thermometer 18° at five a.m. in the course of our march this morning, we passed many small lakes; and the ground becoming higher and more hilly as we receded from the river, was covered to a much greater depth with snow. this rendered walking not only extremely laborious, but also hazardous in the highest degree; for the sides of the hills, as is usual throughout the barren grounds, abounding in accumulations of large angular stones, it often happened that the men fell into the interstices with their loads on their backs, being deceived by the smooth appearance of the drifted snow. if any one had broken a limb here, his fate would have been melancholy indeed; we could neither have remained with him, nor carried him on. we halted at ten to gather _tripe de roche_, but it was so frozen, that we were quite benumbed with cold before a sufficiency could be collected even for a scanty meal. on proceeding our men were somewhat cheered, by observing on the sandy summit of a hill, from whence the snow had been blown, the summer track of a man; and afterwards by seeing several deer tracks on the snow. about noon the weather cleared up a little, and to our great joy, we saw a herd of musk-oxen grazing in a valley below us. the party instantly halted, and the best hunters were sent out; they approached the animals with the utmost caution, no less than two hours being consumed before they got within gun-shot. in the mean time we beheld their proceedings with extreme anxiety, and many secret prayers were, doubtless, offered up for their success. at length they opened their fire, and we had the satisfaction of seeing one of the largest cows fall; another was wounded, but escaped. this success infused spirit into our starving party. to skin and cut up the animal was the work of a few minutes. the contents of its stomach were devoured upon the spot, and the raw intestines, which were next attacked, were pronounced by the most delicate amongst us to be excellent. a few willows, whose tops were seen peeping through the snow in the bottom of the valley, were quickly grubbed, the tents pitched, and supper cooked, and devoured with avidity. this was the sixth day since we had had a good meal; the _tripe de roche_, even where we got enough, only serving to allay the pangs of hunger for a short time. after supper, two of the hunters went in pursuit of the herd, but could not get near them. i do not think that we witnessed through the course of our journey a more striking proof of the wise dispensation of the almighty, and of the weakness of our own judgment than on this day. we had considered the dense fog which prevailed throughout the morning, as almost the greatest inconvenience that could have befallen us, since it rendered the air extremely cold, and prevented us from distinguishing any distant object towards which our course could be directed. yet this very darkness enabled the party to get to the top of the hill which bounded the valley wherein the musk-oxen were grazing, without being perceived. had the herd discovered us and taken alarm, our hunters in their present state of debility would in all probability have failed in approaching them. we were detained all the next day by a strong southerly wind, and were much incommoded in the tents by the drift snow. the temperature was 20°. the average for the last ten days about 24°. we restricted ourselves to one meal this day, as we were at rest, and there was only meat remaining sufficient for the morrow. the gale had not diminished on the 12th, and, as we were fearful of its continuance for some time, we determined on going forward; our only doubt regarded the preservation of the canoe, but the men promised to pay particular attention to it, and the most careful persons were appointed to take it in charge. the snow was two feet deep and the ground much broken, which rendered the march extremely painful. the whole party complained more of faintness and weakness than they had ever done before; their strength seemed to have been impaired by the recent supply of animal food. in the afternoon the wind abated, and the snow ceased; cheered with the change, we proceeded forward at a quicker pace, and encamped at six p.m., having come eleven miles. our supper consumed the last of our meat. we set out on the 13th, in thick hazy weather, and, after an hour's march, had the extreme mortification to find ourselves on the borders of a large lake; neither of its extremities could be seen, and as the portion which lay to the east seemed the widest, we coasted along to the westward portion in search of a crossing-place. this lake being bounded by steep and lofty hills, our march was very fatiguing. those sides which were exposed to the sun, were free from snow, and we found upon them some excellent berries. we encamped at six p.m., having come only six miles and a half. crédit was then missing, and he did not return during the night. we supped off a single partridge and some _tripe de roche_; this unpalatable weed was now quite nauseous to the whole party, and in several it produced bowel complaints. mr. hood was the greatest sufferer from this cause. this evening we were extremely distressed, at discovering that our improvident companions, since we left hood's river had thrown away three of the fishing-nets, and burnt the floats; they knew we had brought them to procure subsistence for the party, when the animals should fail, and we could scarcely believe the fact of their having wilfully deprived themselves of this resource, especially when we considered that most of them had passed the greater part of their servitude in situations where the nets alone had supplied them with food. being thus deprived of our principal resource, that of fishing, and the men evidently getting weaker every day, it became necessary to lighten their burdens of every thing except ammunition, clothing, and the instruments that were required to find our way. i, therefore, issued directions to deposit at this encampment the dipping needle, azimuth compass, magnet, a large thermometer, and a few books we had carried, having torn out of these, such parts as we should require to work the observations for latitude and longitude. i also promised, as an excitement to the efforts in hunting, my gun to st. germain, and an ample compensation to adam, or any of the other men who should kill any animals. mr. hood, on this occasion, lent his gun to michel, the iroquois, who was very eager in the chase, and often successful. _september 14_.--this morning the officers being assembled round a small fire, perrault presented each of us with a small piece of meat which he had saved from his allowance. it was received with great thankfulness, and such an act of self-denial and kindness, being totally unexpected in a canadian voyager, filled our eyes with tears. in directing our course to a river issuing from the lake, we met crédit, who communicated the joyful intelligence of his having killed two deer in the morning. we instantly halted, and having shared the deer that was nearest to us, prepared breakfast. after which, the other deer was sent for, and we went down to the river, which was about three hundred yards wide, and flowed with great velocity through a broken rocky channel. having searched for a part where the current was most smooth, the canoe was placed in the water at the head of a rapid, and st. germain, solomon belanger, and i, embarked in order to cross. we went from the shore very well, but in mid-channel the canoe became difficult to manage under our burden as the breeze was fresh. the current drove us to the edge of the rapid, when belanger unluckily applied his paddle to avert the apparent danger of being forced down it, and lost his balance. the canoe was overset in consequence in the middle of the rapid. we fortunately kept hold of it, until we touched a rock where the water did not reach higher than our waists; here we kept our footing, notwithstanding the strength of the current, until the water was emptied out of the canoe. belanger then held the canoe steady whilst st. germain placed me in it, and afterwards embarked himself in a very dextrous manner. it was impossible, however, to embark belanger, as the canoe would have been hurried down the rapid, the moment he should have raised his foot from the rock on which he stood. we were, therefore, compelled to leave him in his perilous situation. we had not gone twenty yards before the canoe, striking on a sunken rock, went down. the place being shallow, we were again enabled to empty it, and the third attempt brought us to the shore. in the mean time belanger was suffering extremely, immersed to his middle in the centre of a rapid, the temperature of which was very little above the freezing point, and the upper part of his body covered with wet clothes, exposed in a temperature not much above zero, to a strong breeze. he called piteously for relief, and st. germain on his return endeavoured to embark him, but in vain. the canoe was hurried down the rapid, and when he landed he was rendered by the cold incapable of further exertion, and adam attempted to embark belanger, but found it impossible. an attempt was next made to carry out to him a line, made of the slings of the men's loads. this also failed, the current acting so strongly upon it, as to prevent the canoe from steering, and it was finally broken and carried down the stream. at length, when belanger's strength seemed almost exhausted, the canoe reached him with a small cord belonging to one of the nets, and he was dragged perfectly senseless through the rapid. by the direction of dr. richardson, he was instantly stripped, and being rolled up in blankets, two men undressed themselves and went to bed with him: but it was some hours before he recovered his warmth and sensations. as soon as belanger was placed in his bed, the officers sent over my blankets, and a person to make a fire. augustus brought the canoe over, and in returning he was obliged to descend both the rapids, before he could get across the stream; which hazardous service he performed with the greatest coolness and judgment. it is impossible to describe my sensations as i witnessed the various unsuccessful attempts to relieve belanger. the distance prevented my seeing distinctly what was going on, and i continued pacing up and down upon the rock on which i landed, regardless of the coldness of my drenched and stiffening garments. the canoe, in every attempt to reach him, was hurried down the rapid, and was lost to view amongst the rocky islets, with a rapidity that seemed to threaten certain destruction; once, indeed, i fancied that i saw it overwhelmed in the waves. such an event would have been fatal to the whole party. separated as i was from my companions, without gun, ammunition, hatchet, or the means of making a fire, and in wet clothes, my doom would have been speedily sealed. my companions too, driven to the necessity of coasting the lake, must have sunk under the fatigue of rounding its innumerable arms and bays, which, as we have learned from the indians, are very extensive. by the goodness of providence, however, we were spared at that time, and some of us have been permitted to offer up our thanksgivings, in a civilized land, for the signal deliverances we then and afterwards experienced. by this accident i had the misfortune to lose my portfolio{38}, containing my journal from fort enterprise, together with all the astronomical and meteorological observations made during the descent of the copper-mine river, and along the sea-coast, (except those for the dip and variation.) i was in the habit of carrying it strapped across my shoulders, but had taken it off on entering the canoe, to reduce the upper weight. the results of most of the observations for latitude and longitude, had been registered in the sketch books, so that we preserved the requisites for the construction of the chart. the meteorological observations, not having been copied, were lost. my companions, dr. richardson, mr. back, and mr. hood, had been so careful in noting every occurrence in their journals, that the loss of mine could fortunately be well supplied. these friends immediately offered me their documents, and every assistance in drawing up another narrative, of which kindness i availed myself at the earliest opportunity afterwards. _september 15_.--the rest of the party were brought across this morning, and we were delighted to find belanger so much recovered as to be able to proceed, but we could not set out until noon, as the men had to prepare substitutes for the slings which were lost yesterday. soon after leaving the encampment we discerned a herd of deer, and after a long chase a fine male was killed by perrault, several others were wounded but they escaped. after this we passed round the north end of a branch of the lake, and ascended the willingham mountains, keeping near the border of the lake. these hills were steep, craggy, and covered with snow. we encamped at seven and enjoyed a substantial meal. the party were in good spirits this evening at the recollection of having crossed the rapid, and being in possession of provision for the next day. besides we had taken the precaution of bringing away the skin of the deer to eat when the meat should fail. the temperature at six p.m. was 30°. we started at seven next morning and marched until ten, when the appearance of a few willows peeping through the snow induced us to halt and breakfast. recommencing the journey at noon, we passed over a more rugged country, where the hills were separated by deep ravines, whose steep sides were equally difficult to descend and to ascend, and the toil and suffering we experienced were greatly increased. the party was quite fatigued, when we encamped, having come ten miles and three quarters. we observed many summer deer roads, and some recent tracks. some marks that had been put up by the indians were also noticed. we have since learned that this is a regular deer pass, and on that account, annually frequented by the copper indians. the lake is called by them contwoy-to, or rum lake; in consequence of mr. hearne having here given the indians who accompanied him some of that liquor. fish is not found here. we walked next day over a more level country, but it was strewed with large stones. these galled our feet a good deal; we contrived, however, to wade through the snow at a tolerably quick pace until five p.m., having proceeded twelve miles and a half. we had made to-day our proper course, south by east, which we could not venture upon doing before, for fear of falling again upon some branch of the contwoy-to. some deer were seen in the morning, but the hunters failed of killing any, and in the afternoon we fell into the track of a large herd, which had passed the day before, but did not overtake them. in consequence of this want of success we had no breakfast, and but a scanty supper; but we allayed the pangs of hunger, by eating pieces of singed hide. a little _tripe de roche_[14] was also obtained. these would have satisfied us in ordinary times, but we were now almost exhausted by slender fare and travel, and our appetites had become ravenous. we looked, however, with humble confidence to the great author and giver of all good, for a continuance of the support which had hitherto been always supplied to us at our greatest need. the thermometer varied to-day between 25° and 28°. the wind blew fresh from the south. [14] the different kinds of _gyrophora_, are termed indiscriminately by the voyagers, _tripe de roche_. on the 18th the atmosphere was hazy, but the day was more pleasant for walking than usual. the country was level and gravelly, and the snow very deep. we went for a short time along a deeply-beaten road made by the rein-deer, which turned suddenly off to the south-west, a direction so wide of our course that we could not venture upon following it. all the small lakes were frozen, and we marched across those which lay in our track. we supped off the _tripe de roche_ which had been gathered during our halts in the course of the march. thermometer at six p.m. 32°. showers of snow fell without intermission through the night, but they ceased in the morning, and we set out at the usual hour. the men were very faint from hunger, and marched with difficulty, having to oppose a fresh breeze, and to wade through snow two feet deep. we gained, however, ten miles by four o'clock, and then encamped. the canoe was unfortunately broken by the fall of the person who had it in charge. no _tripe de roche_ was seen to-day, but in clearing the snow to pitch the tents we found a quantity of iceland moss, which was boiled for supper. this weed, not having been soaked, proved so bitter, that few of the party could eat more than a few spoonfuls. our blankets did not suffice this evening to keep us in tolerable warmth; the slightest breeze seeming to pierce through our debilitated frames. the reader will, probably, be desirous to know how we passed our time in such a comfortless situation: the first operation after encamping was to thaw our frozen shoes, if a sufficient fire could be made, and dry ones were put on; each person then wrote his notes of the daily occurrences, and evening prayers were read; as soon as supper was prepared it was eaten, generally in the dark, and we went to bed, and kept up a cheerful conversation until our blankets were thawed by the heat of our bodies, and we had gathered sufficient warmth to enable us to fall asleep. on many nights we had not even the luxury of going to bed in dry clothes, for when the fire was insufficient to dry our shoes, we durst not venture to pull them off, lest they should freeze so hard as to be unfit to put on in the morning, and, therefore, inconvenient to carry. on the 20th we got into a hilly country, and the marching became much more laborious, even the stoutest experienced great difficulty in climbing the craggy eminences. mr. hood was particularly weak, and was obliged to relinquish his station of second in the line, which dr. richardson now took, to direct the leading man in keeping the appointed course. i was also unable to keep pace with the men, who put forth their utmost speed, encouraged by the hope, which our reckoning had led us to form, of seeing point lake in the evening, but we were obliged to encamp without gaining a view of it. we had not seen either deer or their tracks through the day, and this circumstance, joined to the disappointment of not discovering the lake, rendered our voyagers very desponding, and the meagre supper of _tripe de roche_ was little calculated to elevate their spirits. they now threatened to throw away their bundles, and quit us, which rash act they would probably have committed, if they had known what track to pursue. _september 21_.--we set out at seven this morning in dark foggy weather, and changed our course two points to the westward. the party were very feeble, and the men much dispirited; we made slow progress, having to march over a hilly and very rugged country. just before noon the sun beamed through the haze for the first time for six days, and we obtained an observation in latitude 65° 7' 06" n., which was six miles to the southward of that part of point lake to which our course was directed. by this observation we discovered that we had kept to the eastward of the proper course, which may be attributed partly to the difficulty of preserving a straight line through an unknown country, unassisted by celestial observations, and in such thick weather, that our view was often limited to a few hundred yards; but chiefly to our total ignorance of the amount of the variation of the compass. we altered the course immediately to west-south-west, and fired guns to apprize the hunters who were out of our view, and ignorant of our having done so. after walking about two miles we waited to collect the stragglers. two partridges were killed, and these with some _tripe de roche_, furnished our supper. notwithstanding a full explanation was given to the men of the reasons for altering the course, and they were assured that the observation had enabled us to discover our exact distance from fort enterprise, they could not divest themselves of the idea of our having lost our way, and a gloom was spread over every countenance. at this encampment dr. richardson was obliged to deposit his specimens of plants and minerals, collected on the sea-coast, being unable to carry them any farther. the way made to-day was five miles and a quarter. _september 22_.--after walking about two miles this morning, we came upon the borders of an extensive lake, whose extremities could not be discerned in consequence of the density of the atmosphere; but as its shores seemed to approach nearer to each other to the southward than to the northward, we determined on tracing it in that direction. we were grieved at finding the lake expand very much beyond the contracted part we had first seen, and incline to the eastward of south. as, however, it was considered more than probable, from the direction and size of the body of water we were now tracing, that it was a branch of point lake; and as, in any case, we knew that by passing round its south end, we must shortly come to the copper-mine river, our course was continued in that direction. the appearance of some dwarf pines and willows, larger than usual, induced us to suppose the river was near. we encamped early, having come eight miles. our supper consisted of _tripe de roche_ and half a partridge each. our progress next day was extremely slow, from the difficulty of managing the canoe in passing over the hills, as the breeze was fresh. peltier who had it in charge, having received several severe falls, became impatient, and insisted on leaving his burden, as it had already been much injured by the accidents of this day; and no arguments we could use were sufficient to prevail on him to continue carrying it. vaillant was, therefore, directed to take it, and we proceeded forward. having found that he got on very well, and was walking even faster than mr. hood could follow, in his present debilitated state, i pushed forward to stop the rest of the party, who had got out of sight during the delay which the discussion respecting the canoe had occasioned. i accidentally passed the body of the men, and followed the tracks of two persons who had separated from the rest, until two p.m., when not seeing any person, i retraced my steps, and on my way met dr. richardson, who had also missed the party whilst he was employed gathering _tripe de roche_, and we went back together in search of them. we found they had halted among some willows, where they had picked up some pieces of skin, and a few bones of deer that had been devoured by the wolves last spring. they had rendered the bones friable by burning, and eaten them as well as the skin; and several of them had added their old shoes to the repast. peltier and vaillant were with them, having left the canoe, which, they said, was so completely broken by another fall, as to be rendered incapable of repair, and entirely useless. the anguish this intelligence occasioned may be conceived, but it is beyond my power to describe it. impressed, however, with the necessity of taking it forward, even in the state these men represented it to be, we urgently desired them to fetch it; but they declined going, and the strength of the officers was inadequate to the task. to their infatuated obstinacy on this occasion, a great portion of the melancholy circumstances which attended our subsequent progress may, perhaps, be attributed. the men now seemed to have lost all hope of being preserved; and all the arguments we could use failed in stimulating them to the least exertion. after consuming the remains of the bones and horns of the deer we resumed our march, and in the evening, reached a contracted part of the lake, which, perceiving it to be shallow, we forded, and encamped on the opposite side. heavy rain began soon afterwards, and continued all night. on the following morning the rain had so wasted the snow, that the tracks of mr. back and his companions, who had gone before with the hunters, were traced with difficulty; and the frequent showers during the day almost obliterated them. the men became furious at the apprehension of being deserted by the hunters, and some of the strongest throwing down their bundles, prepared to set out after them, intending to leave the more weak to follow as they could. the entreaties and threats of the officers, however, prevented their executing this mad scheme; but not before solomon belanger was despatched with orders for mr. back to halt until we should join him. soon afterwards a thick fog came on, but we continued our march and overtook mr. back, who had been detained in consequence of his companions having followed some recent tracks of deer. after halting an hour, during which we refreshed ourselves with eating our old shoes, and a few scraps of leather, we set forward in the hope of ascertaining whether an adjoining piece of water was the copper-mine river or not, but were soon compelled to return and encamp, for fear of a separation of the party, as we could not see each other at ten yards' distance. the fog diminishing towards evening, augustus was sent to examine the water, but having lost his way he did not reach the tents before midnight, when he brought the information of its being a lake. we supped upon, _tripe de roche_, and enjoyed a comfortable fire, having found some pines, seven or eight feet high, in a valley near the encampment. the bounty of providence was most seasonably manifested to us next morning, in our killing five small deer out of a herd, which came in sight as we were on the point of starting. this unexpected supply re-animated the drooping spirits of our men, and filled every heart with gratitude. the voyagers instantly petitioned for a day's rest which we were most reluctant to grant, being aware of the importance of every moment at this critical period of our journey. but they so earnestly and strongly pleaded their recent sufferings, and their conviction, that the quiet enjoyment of two substantial meals, after eight days' famine, would enable them to proceed next day more vigorously, that we could not resist their entreaties. the flesh, the skins, and even the contents of the stomachs of the deer were equally distributed among the party by mr. hood, who had volunteered, on the departure of mr. wentzel, to perform the duty of issuing the provision. this invidious task he had all along performed with great impartiality, but seldom without producing some grumbling amongst the canadians; and, on the present occasion, the hunters were displeased that the heads and some other parts, had not been added to their portions. it is proper to remark, that mr. hood always took the smallest portion for his own mess, but this weighed little with these men, as long as their own appetites remained unsatisfied. we all suffered much inconvenience from eating animal food after our long abstinence, but particularly those men who indulged themselves beyond moderation. the canadians, with their usual thoughtlessness, had consumed above a third of their portions of meat that evening. we set out early on the 26th, and after walking about three miles along the lake, came to the river which we at once recognised, from its size, to be the copper-mine. it flowed to the northward, and after winding about five miles, terminated in point lake. its current was swift, and there were two rapids in this part of its course, which in a canoe we could have crossed with ease and safety. these rapids, as well as every other part of the river, were carefully examined in search of a ford; but finding none, the expedients occurred, of attempting to cross on a raft made of the willows which were growing there, or in a vessel framed with willows, and covered with the canvass of the tents; but both these schemes were abandoned, through the obstinacy of the interpreters and the most experienced voyagers, who declared that they would prove inadequate to the conveyance of the party, and that much time would be lost in the attempt. the men, in fact, did not believe that this was the copper-mine river, and so little confidence had they in our reckoning, and so much had they bewildered themselves on the march that some of them asserted it was hood's river, and others that it was the bethe-tessy. (a river which rises from a lake to the northward of rum lake, and holds a course to the sea parallel with that of the copper-mine.) in short, their despondency had returned, and they all despaired of seeing fort enterprise again. however, the steady assurances of the officers that we were actually on the banks of the copper-mine river, and that the distance to fort enterprise did not exceed forty miles, made some impression upon them, which was increased upon our finding some bear-berry plants (_arbutus uva ursi_,) which are reported by the indians not to grow to the eastward of that river. they then deplored their folly and impatience in breaking the canoe, being all of opinion, that had it not been so completely demolished on the 23d, it might have been repaired sufficiently to take the party over. we again closely interrogated peltier and vaillant as to its state, with the intention of sending for it; but they persisted in the declaration, that it was in a totally unserviceable condition. st. germain being again called upon to endeavour to construct a canoe frame with willows, stated that he was unable to make one sufficiently large. it became necessary, therefore, to search for pines of sufficient size to form a raft; and being aware that such trees grow on the borders of point lake, we considered it best to trace its shores in search of them; we, therefore, resumed our march, carefully looking, but in vain, for a fordable part, and encamped at the east end of point lake. as there was little danger of our losing the path of our hunters whilst we coasted the shores of this lake, i determined on again sending mr. back forward, with the interpreters to hunt. i had in view, in this arrangement, the further object of enabling mr. back to get across the lake with two of these men, to convey the earliest possible account of our situation to the indians. accordingly i instructed him to halt at the first pines he should come to, and then prepare a raft; and if his hunters had killed animals, so that the party could be supported whilst we were making our raft, he was to cross immediately with st. germain and beauparlant, and send the indians to us as quickly as possible with supplies of meat. we had this evening the pain of discovering that two of our men had stolen part of the officers' provision, which had been allotted to us with strict impartiality. this conduct was the more reprehensible, as it was plain that we were suffering, even in a greater degree than themselves, from the effects of famine, owing to our being of a less robust habit, and less accustomed to privations. we had no means of punishing this crime, but by the threat that they should forfeit their wages, which had now ceased to operate. mr. back and his companions set out at six in the morning, and we started at seven. as the snow had entirely disappeared, and there were no means of distinguishing the footsteps of stragglers, i gave strict orders, previously to setting out, for all the party to keep together: and especially i desired the two esquimaux not to leave us, they having often strayed in search of the remains of animals. our people, however, through despondency, had become careless and disobedient, and had ceased to dread punishment, or hope for reward. much time was lost in halting and firing guns to collect them, but the labour of walking was so much lightened by the disappearance of the snow, that we advanced seven or eight miles along the lake before noon, exclusive of the loss of distance in rounding its numerous bays. at length we came to an arm, running away to the north-east, and apparently connected with the lake which we had coasted on the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th, of the month. the idea of again rounding such an extensive piece of water and of travelling over so barren a country was dreadful, and we feared that other arms, equally large, might obstruct our path, and that the strength of the party would entirely fail, long before we could reach the only part where we were certain of finding wood, distant in a direct line twenty-five miles. while we halted to consider of this subject, and to collect the party, the carcase of a deer was discovered in the cleft of a rock into which it had fallen in the spring. it was putrid, but little less acceptable to us on that account, in our present circumstances; and a fire being kindled, a large portion was devoured on the spot, affording us an unexpected breakfast, for in order to husband our small remaining portion of meat, we had agreed to make only one scanty meal a day. the men, cheered by this unlooked-for supply, became sanguine in the hope of being able to cross the stream on a raft of willows, although they had before declared such a project impracticable, and they unanimously entreated us to return back to the rapid, a request which accorded with our own opinion, and was therefore acceded to. crédit and junius, however, were missing, and it was also necessary to send notice of our intention to mr. back and his party. augustus being promised a reward, undertook the task, and we agreed to wait for him at the rapid. it was supposed he could not fail meeting with the two stragglers on his way to or from mr. back, as it was likely they would keep on the borders of the lake. he accordingly set out after mr. back, whilst we returned about a mile towards the rapid, and encamped in a deep valley amongst some large willows. we supped on the remains of the putrid deer, and the men having gone to the spot where it was found, scraped together the contents of its intestines which were scattered on the rock, and added them to their meal. we also enjoyed the luxury to-day of eating a large quantity of excellent blue-berries and cran-berries (_vaccinium uliginosum_ and _v. vitis idæa_) which were laid bare by the melting of the snow, but nothing could allay our inordinate appetites. in the night we heard the report of crédit's gun in answer to our signal muskets, and he rejoined us in the morning, but we got no intelligence of junius. we set out about an hour after day-break{39}, and encamped at two p.m. between the rapids, where the river was about one hundred and thirty yards wide, being its narrowest part. eight deer were seen by michel and crédit, who loitered behind the rest of the party, but they could not approach them. a great many shots were fired by those in the rear at partridges, but they missed, or at least did not choose to add what they killed to the common stock. we subsequently learned that the hunters often secreted the partridges they shot, and ate them unknown to the officers. some _tripe de roche_ was collected, which we boiled for supper, with the moiety of the remainder of our deer's meat. the men commenced cutting the willows for the construction of the raft. as an excitement to exertion, i promised a reward of three hundred livres to the first person who should convey a line across the river, by which the raft could be managed in transporting the party. _september 29_.--strong south-east winds with fog in the morning, more moderate in the evening. temperature of the rapid 38°. the men began at an early hour to bind the willows in fagots for the construction of the raft, and it was finished by seven; but as the willows were green, it proved to be very little buoyant, and was unable to support more than one man at a time. even on this, however, we hoped the whole party might be transported, by hauling it from one side to the other, provided a line could be carried to the other bank. several attempts were made by belanger and benoit, the strongest men of the party, to convey the raft across the stream, but they failed for want of oars. a pole constructed by tying the tent poles together, was too short to reach the bottom at a short distance from the shore; and a paddle which had been carried from the sea-coast by dr. richardson, did not possess sufficient power to move the raft in opposition to a strong breeze, which blew from the other side. all the men suffered extremely from the coldness of the water, in which they were necessarily immersed up to the waists, in their endeavours to aid belanger and benoit; and having witnessed repeated failures, they began to consider the scheme as hopeless. at this time dr. richardson, prompted by a desire of relieving his suffering companions, proposed to swim across the stream with a line, and to haul the raft over. he launched into the stream with the line round his middle, but when he had got a short distance from the bank, his arms became benumbed with cold, and he lost the power of moving them; still he persevered, and, turning on his back, had nearly gained the opposite bank, when his legs also became powerless, and to our infinite alarm we beheld him sink. we instantly hauled upon the line and he came again on the surface, and was gradually drawn ashore in an almost lifeless state. being rolled up in blankets, he was placed before a good fire of willows, and fortunately was just able to speak sufficiently to give some slight directions respecting the manner of treating him. he recovered strength gradually, and through the blessing of god was enabled in the course of a few hours to converse, and by the evening was sufficiently recovered to remove into the tent. we then regretted to learn, that the skin of his whole left side was deprived of feeling, in consequence of exposure to too great heat. he did not perfectly recover the sensation of that side until the following summer. i cannot describe what every one felt at beholding the skeleton which the doctor's debilitated frame exhibited. when he stripped, the canadians simultaneously exclaimed, "ah! que nous sommes maigres!" i shall best explain his state and that of the party, by the following extract from his journal: "it may be worthy of remark that i should have had little hesitation in any former period of my life, at plunging into water even below 38° fahrenheit; but at this time i was reduced almost to skin and bone, and, like the rest of the party, suffered from degrees of cold that would have been disregarded in health and vigour. during the whole of our march we experienced that no quantity of clothing could keep us warm whilst we fasted, but on those occasions on which we were enabled to go to bed with full stomachs, we passed the night in a warm and comfortable manner." in following the detail of our friend's narrow escape, i have omitted to mention, that when he was about to step into the water, he put his foot on a dagger, which cut him to the bone; but this misfortune could not stop him from attempting the execution of his generous undertaking. in the evening augustus came in. he had walked a day and a half beyond the place from whence we turned back, but had neither seen junius nor mr. back. of the former he had seen no traces, but he had followed the tracks of mr. back's party for a considerable distance, until the hardness of the ground rendered them imperceptible. junius was well equipped with ammunition, blankets, knives, a kettle, and other necessaries; and it was the opinion of augustus that when he found he could not rejoin the party, he would endeavour to gain the woods on the west end of point lake, and follow the river until he fell in with the esquimaux, who frequent its mouth. the indians too with whom we have since conversed upon this subject, are confident that he would be able to subsist himself during the winter. crédit, on his hunting excursion to-day, found a cap, which our people recognised to belong to one of the hunters who had left us in the spring. this circumstance produced the conviction of our being on the banks of the copper-mine river, which all the assertions of the officers had hitherto failed in effecting with some of the party; and it had the happy consequence of reviving their spirits considerably. we consumed the last of our deer's meat this evening at supper. next morning the men went out in search of dry willows, and collected eight large fagots, with which they formed a more buoyant raft than the former, but the wind being still adverse and strong, they delayed attempting to cross until a more favourable opportunity. pleased, however, with the appearance of this raft, they collected some _tripe de roche_, and made a cheerful supper. dr. richardson was gaining strength, but his leg was much swelled and very painful. an observation for latitude placed the encampment in 65° 00' 00" n., the longitude being 112° 20' 00" w., deduced from the last observation. on the morning of the 1st of october, the wind was strong, and the weather as unfavourable as before for crossing on the raft. we were rejoiced to see mr. back and his party in the afternoon. they had traced the lake about fifteen miles farther than we did, and found it undoubtedly connected, as we had supposed, with the lake we fell in with on the 22nd of september; and dreading, as we had done, the idea of coasting its barren shores, they returned to make an attempt at crossing here. st. germain now proposed to make a canoe of the fragments of painted canvass in which we wrapped our bedding. this scheme appearing practicable, a party was sent to our encampment of the 24th and 25th last, to collect pitch amongst{40} the small pines that grew there, to pay over the seams of the canoe. in the afternoon we had a heavy fall of snow, which continued all night. a small quantity of _tripe de roche_ was gathered; and crédit, who had been hunting, brought in the antlers and back bone of a deer which had been killed in the summer. the wolves and birds of prey had picked them clean, but there still remained a quantity of the spinal marrow which they had not been able to extract. this, although putrid, was esteemed a valuable prize, and the spine being divided into portions, was distributed equally. after eating the marrow, which was so acrid as to excoriate the lips, we rendered the bones friable by burning, and ate them also. on the following morning the ground was covered with snow to the depth of a foot and a half, and the weather was very stormy. these circumstances rendered the men again extremely despondent; a settled gloom hung over their countenances, and they refused to pick _tripe de roche_, choosing rather to go entirely without eating, than to make any exertion. the party which went for gum returned early in the morning without having found any; but st. germain said he could still make the canoe with the willows, covered with canvass, and removed with adam to a clump of willows for that purpose. mr. back accompanied them to stimulate his exertion, as we feared the lowness of his spirits would cause him to be slow in his operations. augustus went to fish at the rapid, but a large trout having carried away his bait, we had nothing to replace it. the snow-storm continued all the night, and during the forenoon of the 3d. having persuaded the people to gather some _tripe de roche_, i partook of a meal with them; and afterwards set out with the intention of going to st. germain to hasten his operations, but though he was only three quarters of a mile distant, i spent three hours in a vain attempt to reach him, my strength being unequal to the labour of wading through the deep snow; and i returned quite exhausted, and much shaken by the numerous falls i had got. my associates were all in the same debilitated state, and poor hood was reduced to a perfect shadow, from the severe bowel complaints which the _tripe de roche_ never failed to give him. back was so feeble as to require the support of a stick in walking; and dr. richardson had lameness superadded to weakness. the voyagers were somewhat stronger than ourselves, but more indisposed to exertion, on account of their despondency. the sensation of hunger was no longer felt by any of us, yet we were scarcely able to converse upon any other subject than the pleasures of eating. we were much indebted to hepburn at this crisis. the officers were unable from weakness to gather _tripe de roche_ themselves, and samandrè, who had acted as our cook on the journey from the coast, sharing in the despair of the rest of the canadians, refused to make the slightest exertion. hepburn, on the contrary, animated by a firm reliance on the beneficence of the supreme being, tempered with resignation to his will, was indefatigable in his exertions to serve us, and daily collected all the _tripe de roche_ that was used in the officers' mess. mr. hood could not partake of this miserable fare, and a partridge which had been reserved for him was, i lament to say, this day stolen by one of the men. _october 4_.--the canoe being finished, it was brought to the encampment, and the whole party being assembled in anxious expectation on the beach, st. germain embarked, and amidst our prayers for his success, succeeded in reaching the opposite shore. the canoe was then drawn back again, and another person transported, and in this manner by drawing it backwards and forwards, we were all conveyed over without any serious accident. by these frequent traverses the canoe was materially injured; and latterly it filled each time with water before reaching the shore, so that all our garments and bedding were wet, and there was not a sufficiency of willows upon the side on which we now were, to make a fire to dry them. that no time might be lost in procuring relief, i immediately despatched mr. back with st. germain, solomon belanger, and beauparlant, to search for the indians, directing him to go to fort enterprise, where we expected they would be, or where, at least, a note from mr. wentzel would be found to direct us in our search for them. if st. germain should kill any animals on his way, a portion of the meat was to be put up securely for us, and conspicuous marks placed over it. it is impossible to imagine a more gratifying change than was produced in our voyagers after we were all safely landed on the southern banks of the river. their spirits immediately revived, each of them shook the officers cordially by the hand, and declared they now considered the worst of their difficulties over, as they did not doubt of reaching fort enterprise in a few days, even in their feeble condition. we had, indeed, every reason to be grateful, and our joy would have been complete had it not been mingled with sincere regret at the separation of our poor esquimaux, the faithful junius. the want of _tripe de roche_ caused us to go supperless to bed. showers of snow fell frequently during the night. the breeze was light next morning, the weather cold and clear. we were all on foot by day-break, but from the frozen state of our tents and bed-clothes, it was long before the bundles could be made, and as usual, the men lingered over a small fire they had kindled, so that it was eight o'clock before we started. our advance, from the depth of the snow, was slow, and about noon, coming to a spot where there was some _tripe de roche_, we stopped to collect it, and breakfasted. mr. hood, who was now very feeble, and dr. richardson, who attached himself to him, walked together at a gentle pace in the rear of the party. i kept with the foremost men, to cause them to halt occasionally, until the stragglers came up. resuming our march after breakfast, we followed the track of mr. back's party, and encamped early, as all of us were much fatigued, particularly crédit, who having to-day carried the men's tent, it being his turn so to do, was so exhausted, that when he reached the encampment he was unable to stand. the _tripe de roche_ disagreed with this man and with vaillant, in consequence of which, they were the first whose strength totally failed. we had a small quantity of this weed in the evening, and the rest of our supper was made up of scraps of roasted leather. the distance walked to-day was six miles. as crédit was very weak in the morning, his load was reduced to little more than his personal luggage, consisting of his blanket, shoes, and gun. previous to setting out, the whole party ate the remains of their old shoes, and whatever scraps of leather they had, to strengthen their stomachs for the fatigue of the day's journey. we left the encampment at nine, and pursued our route over a range of black hills. the wind having increased to a strong gale in the course of the morning, became piercingly cold, and the drift rendered it difficult for those in the rear to follow the track over the heights; whilst in the valleys, where it was sufficiently marked, from the depth of the snow, the labour of walking was proportionably great. those in advance made, as usual, frequent halts, yet being unable from the severity of the weather to remain long still, they were obliged to move on before the rear could come up, and the party, of course, straggled very much. about noon samandrè coming up, informed us that crédit and vaillant could advance no further. some willows being discovered in a valley near us, i proposed to halt the party there, whilst dr. richardson went back to visit them. i hoped too, that when the sufferers received the information of a fire being kindled at so short a distance they would be cheered, and use their utmost efforts to reach it, but this proved a vain hope. the doctor found vaillant about a mile and a half in the rear, much exhausted with cold and fatigue. having encouraged him to advance to the fire, after repeated solicitations he made the attempt, but fell down amongst the deep snow at every step. leaving him in this situation, the doctor went about half a mile farther back, to the spot where crédit was said to have halted, and the track being nearly obliterated by the snow drift, it became unsafe for him to go further. returning he passed vaillant, who having moved only a few yards in his absence, had fallen down, was unable to rise, and could scarcely answer his questions. being unable to afford him any effectual assistance, he hastened on to inform us of his situation. when j. b. belanger had heard the melancholy account, he went immediately to aid vaillant, and bring up his burden. respecting crédit, we were informed by samandrè, that he had stopped a short distance behind vaillant, but that his intention was to return to the encampment of the preceding evening. when belanger came back with vaillant's load, he informed us that he had found him lying on his back, benumbed with cold, and incapable of being roused. the stoutest men of the party were now earnestly entreated to bring him to the fire, but they declared themselves unequal to the task; and, on the contrary, urged me to allow them to throw down their loads, and proceed to fort enterprise with the utmost speed. a compliance with their desire would have caused the loss of the whole party, for the men were totally ignorant of the course to be pursued, and none of the officers, who could have directed the march, were sufficiently strong to keep up at the pace they would then walk; besides, even supposing them to have found their way, the strongest men would certainly have deserted the weak. something, however, was absolutely necessary to be done, to relieve them as much as possible from their burdens, and the officers consulted on the subject. mr. hood and dr. richardson proposed to remain behind, with a single attendant, at the first place where sufficient wood and _tripe de roche_ should be found for ten days' consumption; and that i should proceed as expeditiously as possible with the men to the house, and thence send them immediate relief. they strongly urged that this arrangement would contribute to the safety of the rest of the party, by relieving them from the burden of a tent, and several other articles; and that they might afford aid to crédit, if he should unexpectedly come up. i was distressed beyond description at the thought of leaving them in such a dangerous situation, and for a long time combated their proposal; but they strenuously urged, that this step afforded the only chance of safety for the party, and i reluctantly acceded to it. the ammunition, of which we had a small barrel, was also to be left with them, and it was hoped that this deposit would be a strong inducement for the indians to venture across the barren grounds to their aid. we communicated this resolution to the men, who were cheered at the slightest prospect of alleviation to their present miseries, and promised with great appearance of earnestness to return to those officers, upon the first supply of food. the party then moved on; vaillant's blanket and other necessaries were left in the track, at the request of the canadians, without any hope, however, of his being able to reach them. after marching till dusk without seeing a favourable place for encamping, night compelled us to take shelter under the lee of a hill, amongst some willows, with which, after many attempts, we at length made a fire. it was not sufficient, however, to warm the whole party, much less to thaw our shoes; and the weather not permitting the gathering of _tripe de roche_, we had nothing to cook. the painful retrospection of the melancholy events of the day banished sleep, and we shuddered as we contemplated the dreadful effects of this bitterly cold night on our two companions, if still living. some faint hopes were entertained of crédit's surviving the storm, as he was provided with a good blanket, and had leather to eat. the weather was mild next morning. we left the encampment at nine, and a little before noon came to a pretty extensive thicket of small willows, near which there appeared a supply of _tripe de roche_ on the face of the rocks. at this place dr. richardson and mr. hood determined to remain, with john hepburn, who volunteered to stop with them. the tent was securely pitched, a few willows collected, and the ammunition and all other articles were deposited, except each man's clothing, one tent, a sufficiency of ammunition for the journey, and the officers' journals. i had only one blanket, which was carried for me, and two pair of shoes. the offer was now made for any of the men, who felt themselves too weak to proceed, to remain with the officers, but none of them accepted it. michel alone felt some inclination to do so. after we had united in thanksgiving and prayers to almighty god, i separated from my companions, deeply afflicted that a train of melancholy circumstances should have demanded of me the severe trial of parting, in such a condition, from friends who had become endeared to me by their constant kindness and co-operation, and a participation of numerous sufferings. this trial i could not have been induced to undergo, but for the reasons they had so strongly urged the day before, to which my own judgment assented, and for the sanguine hope i felt of either finding a supply of provision at fort enterprise, or meeting the indians in the immediate vicinity of that place, according to my arrangements with mr. wentzel and akaitcho. previously to our starting, peltier and benoit repeated their promises, to return to them with provision, if any should be found at the house, or to guide the indians to them, if any were met. greatly as mr. hood was exhausted, and indeed, incapable as he must have proved, of encountering the fatigue of our very next day's journey, so that i felt his resolution to be prudent, i was sensible that his determination to remain, was chiefly prompted by the disinterested and generous wish to remove impediments to the progress of the rest. dr. richardson and hepburn, who were both in a state of strength to keep pace with the men, besides this motive which they shared with him, were influenced in their resolution to remain, the former by the desire which had distinguished his character, throughout the expedition, of devoting himself to the succour of the weak, and the latter by the zealous attachment he had ever shown towards his officers. we set out without waiting to take any of the _tripe de roche_, and walking at a tolerable pace, in an hour arrived at a fine group of pines, about a mile and a quarter from the tent. we sincerely regretted not having seen these before we separated from our companions, as they would have been better supplied with fuel here, and there appeared to be more _tripe de roche_ than where we had left them. descending afterwards into a more level country, we found the snow very deep, and the labour of wading through it so fatigued the whole party, that we were compelled to encamp, after a march of four miles and a half. belanger and michel were left far behind, and when they arrived at the encampment appeared quite exhausted. the former, bursting into tears, declared his inability to proceed, and begged me to let him go back next morning to the tent, and shortly afterwards michel made the same request. i was in hopes they might recover a little strength by the night's rest, and therefore deferred giving any permission _until_ morning. the sudden failure in the strength of these men cast a gloom over the rest, which i tried in vain to remove, by repeated assurances that the distance to fort enterprise was short, and that we should, in all probability, reach it in four days. not being able to find any _tripe de roche_, we drank an infusion of the labrador tea plant, (_ledum palustre_), and ate a few morsels of burnt leather for supper. we were unable to raise the tent, and found its weight too great to carry it on; we, therefore, cut it up, and took a part of the canvass for a cover. the night was bitterly cold, and though we lay as close to each other as possible, having no shelter, we could not keep ourselves sufficiently warm to sleep. a strong gale came on after midnight, which increased the severity of the weather. in the morning belanger and michel renewed their request to be permitted to go back to the tent, assuring me they were still weaker than on the preceding evening, and less capable of going forward; and they urged, that the stopping at a place where there was a supply of _tripe de roche_ was their only chance of preserving life; under these circumstances, i could not do otherwise than yield to their desire. i wrote a note to dr. richardson and mr. hood, informing them of the pines we had passed, and recommending their removing thither. having found that michel was carrying a considerable quantity of ammunition, i desired him to divide it among my party, leaving him only ten balls and a little shot, to kill any animals he might meet on his way to the tent. this man was very particular in his inquiries respecting the direction of the house, and the course we meant to pursue; he also said, that if he should be able, he would go and search for vaillant, and crédit; and he requested my permission to take vaillant's blanket, if he should find it, to which i agreed, and mentioned it in my notes to the officers. scarcely were these arrangements finished, before perrault and fontano were seized with a fit of dizziness, and betrayed other symptoms of extreme debility. some tea was quickly prepared for them, and after drinking it, and eating a few morsels of burnt leather, they recovered, and expressed their desire to go forward; but the other men, alarmed at what they had just witnessed, became doubtful of their own strength, and, giving way to absolute dejection, declared their inability to move. i now earnestly pressed upon them the necessity of continuing our journey, as the only means of saving their own lives, as well as those of our friends at the tent; and, after much entreaty, got them to set out at ten a.m.: belanger and michel were left at the encampment, and proposed to start shortly afterwards. by the time we had gone about two hundred yards, perrault became again dizzy, and desired us to halt, which we did, until he, recovering, offered to march on. ten minutes more had hardly elapsed before he again desired us to stop, and, bursting into tears, declared he was totally exhausted, and unable to accompany us further. as the encampment was not more than a quarter of a mile distant, we recommended that he should return to it, and rejoin belanger and michel, whom we knew to be still there, from perceiving the smoke of a fresh fire; and because they had not made any preparation for starting when we quitted them. he readily acquiesced in the proposition, and having taken a friendly leave of each of us, and enjoined us to make all the haste we could in sending relief, he turned back, keeping his gun and ammunition. we watched him until he was nearly at the fire, and then proceeded. during these detentions, augustus becoming impatient of the delay had walked on, and we lost sight of him. the labour we experienced in wading through the deep snow induced us to cross a moderate sized lake, which lay in our track, but we found this operation far more harassing. as the surface of the ice was perfectly smooth, we slipt at almost every step, and were frequently blown down by the wind with such force as to shake our whole frames. poor fontano was completely exhausted by the labour of this traverse, and we made a halt until his strength was recruited, by which time the party was benumbed with cold. proceeding again, he got on tolerably well for a little time; but being again seized with faintness and dizziness, he fell often, and at length exclaimed that he could go no further. we immediately stopped, and endeavoured to encourage him to persevere, until we should find some willows to encamp; he insisted, however, that he could not march any longer through this deep snow; and said, that if he should even reach our encampment this evening, he must be left there, provided _tripe de roche_ could not be procured to recruit his strength. the poor man was overwhelmed with grief, and seemed desirous to remain at that spot. we were about two miles from the place where the other men had been left, and as the track to it was beaten, we proposed to him to return thither, as we thought it probable he would find the men still there; at any rate, he would be able to get fuel to keep him warm during the night; and, on the next day, he could follow their track to the officers' tent; and, should the path be covered by the snow, the pines we had passed yesterday would guide him, as they were yet in view. i cannot describe my anguish on the occasion of separating from another companion under circumstances so distressing. there was, however, no alternative. the extreme debility of the rest of the party put the carrying him quite out of the question, as he himself admitted; and it was evident that the frequent delays he must occasion if he accompanied us, and did not gain strength, would endanger the lives of the whole. by returning he had the prospect of getting to the tent where _tripe de roche_ could be obtained, which agreed with him better than with any other of the party, and which he was always very assiduous in gathering. after some hesitation he determined on going back, and set out, having bid each of us farewell in the tenderest manner. we watched him with inexpressible anxiety for some time, and were rejoiced to find, though he got on slowly, that he kept on his legs better than before. antonio fontano was an italian, and had served many years in de meuron's regiment. he had spoken to me that very morning, and after his first attack of dizziness, about his father; and had begged, that should he survive, i would take him with me to england, and put him in the way of reaching home. the party was now reduced to five persons, adam, peltier, benoit, samandrè, and myself. continuing the journey, we came, after an hour's walk, to some willows, and encamped under the shelter of a rock, having walked in the whole four miles and a half. we made an attempt to gather some _tripe de roche_, but could not, owing to the severity of the weather. our supper, therefore, consisted of tea and a few morsels of leather. augustus did not make his appearance, but we felt no alarm at his absence, supposing he would go to the tent if he missed our track. having fire, we procured a little sleep. next morning the breeze was light and the weather mild, which enabled us to collect some _tripe de roche_, and to enjoy the only meal we had had for four days. we derived great benefit from it, and walked with considerably more ease than yesterday. without the strength it supplied, we should certainly have been unable to oppose the strong breeze we met in the afternoon. after walking about five miles, we came upon the borders of marten lake, and were rejoiced to find it frozen, so that we could continue our course straight for fort enterprise. we encamped at the first rapid in winter river amidst willows and alders; but these were so frozen, and the snow fell so thick, that the men had great difficulty in making a fire. this proving insufficient to warm us, or even thaw our shoes, and having no food to prepare, we crept under our blankets. the arrival in a well-known part raised the spirits of the men to a high pitch, and we kept up a cheerful conversation until sleep overpowered us. the night was very stormy, and the morning scarcely less so; but, being desirous to reach the house this day, we commenced our journey very early. we were gratified by the sight of a large herd of rein-deer on the side of the hill near the track, but our only hunter, adam, was too feeble to pursue them. our shoes and garments were stiffened by the frost, and we walked in great pain until we arrived at some stunted pines, at which we halted, made a good fire, and procured the refreshment of tea. the weather becoming fine in the afternoon, we continued our journey, passed the dog-rib rock, and encamped among a clump of pines of considerable growth, about a mile further on. here we enjoyed the comfort of a large fire for the first time since our departure from the sea-coast; but this gratification was purchased at the expense of many severe falls in crossing a stony valley, to get to these trees. there was no _tripe de roche_, and we drank tea and ate some of our shoes for supper. next morning after taking the usual repast of tea, we proceeded to the house. musing on what we were likely to find there, our minds were agitated between hope and fear, and, contrary to the custom we had kept up, of supporting our spirits by conversation, we went silently forward. at length we reached fort enterprise, and to our infinite disappointment and grief found it a perfectly desolate habitation. there was no deposit of provision, no trace of the indians, no letter from mr. wentzel to point out where the indians might be found. it would be impossible to describe our sensations after entering this miserable abode, and discovering how we had been neglected: the whole party shed tears, not so much for our own fate, as for that of our friends in the rear, whose lives depended entirely on our sending immediate relief from this place. i found a note, however, from mr. back, stating that he had reached the house two days before and was going in search of the indians, at a part where st. germain deemed it probable they might be found. if he was unsuccessful, he purposed walking to fort providence, and sending succour from thence: but he doubted whether either he or his party could perform the journey to that place in their present debilitated state. it was evident that any supply that could be sent from fort providence would be long in reaching us, neither could it be sufficient to enable us to afford any assistance to our companions behind, and that the only relief for them must be procured from the indians. i resolved therefore, on going also in search of them: but my companions were absolutely incapable of proceeding, and i thought by halting two or three days they might gather a little strength, whilst the delay would afford us the chance of learning whether mr. back had seen the indians. we now looked round for the means of subsistence, and were gratified to find several deer-skins, which had been thrown away during our former residence. the bones were gathered from the heap of ashes; these with the skins, and the addition of _tripe de roche_, we considered would support us tolerably well for a time. as to the house, the parchment being torn from the windows, the apartment we selected for our abode was exposed to all the rigour of the season. we endeavoured to exclude the wind as much as possible, by placing loose boards against the apertures. the temperature was now between 15° and 20° below zero. we procured fuel by pulling up the flooring of the other rooms, and water for cooking, by melting the snow. whilst we were seated round the fire, singeing the deer-skin for supper, we were rejoiced by the unexpected entrance of augustus. he had followed quite a different course from ours, and the circumstance of his having found his way through a part of the country he had never been in before, must be considered a remarkable proof of sagacity. the unusual earliness of this winter became manifest to us from the state of things at this spot. last year at the same season, and still later there had been very little snow on the ground, and we were surrounded by vast herds of rein-deer; now there were but few recent tracks of these animals, and the snow was upwards of two feet deep. winter river was then open, now it was frozen two feet thick. when i arose the following morning, my body and limbs were so swollen that i was unable to walk more than a few yards. adam was in a still worse condition, being absolutely incapable of rising without assistance. my other companions happily experienced this inconvenience in a less degree, and went to collect bones, and some _tripe de roche_ which supplied us with two meals. the bones were quite acrid, and the soup extracted from them excoriated the mouth if taken alone, but it was somewhat milder when boiled with _tripe de roche_, and we even thought the mixture palatable, with the addition of salt, of which a cask had been fortunately left here in the spring. augustus to-day set two fishing lines below the rapid. on his way thither he saw two deer, but had not strength to follow them. on the 13th the wind blew violently from south-east, and the snow drifted so much that the party were confined to the house. in the afternoon of the following day belanger arrived with a note from mr. back, stating that he had seen no trace of the indians, and desiring further instructions as to the course he should pursue. belanger's situation, however, required our first care, as he came in almost speechless, and covered with ice, having fallen into a rapid, and, for the third time since we left the coast, narrowly escaped drowning. he did not recover sufficiently to answer our questions, until we had rubbed him for some time, changed his dress, and given him some warm soup. my companions nursed him with the greatest kindness, and the desire of restoring him to health, seemed to absorb all regard for their own situation. i witnessed with peculiar pleasure this conduct, so different from that which they had recently pursued, when every tender feeling was suspended by the desire of self-preservation. they now no longer betrayed impatience or despondency, but were composed and cheerful, and had entirely given up the practice of swearing, to which the canadian voyagers are so lamentably addicted. our conversation naturally turned upon the prospect of getting relief, and upon the means which were best adapted for obtaining it. the absence of all traces of indians on winter river, convinced me that they were at this time on the way to fort providence, and that by proceeding towards that post we should overtake them, as they move slowly when they have their families with them. this route also offered us the prospect of killing deer, in the vicinity of rein-deer{41} lake, in which neighbourhood, our men in their journey to and fro last winter, had always found them abundant. upon these grounds i determined on taking the route to fort providence as soon as possible, and wrote to mr. back, desiring him to join me at rein-deer lake, and detailing the occurrences since we parted, that our friends might receive relief, in case of any accident happening to me. belanger did not recover sufficient strength to leave us before the 18th. his answers as to the exact part of round-rock lake in which he had left mr. back, were very unsatisfactory; and we could only collect that it was at a considerable distance, and that he was still going on with the intention of halting at the place where akaitcho was encamped last summer, about thirty miles off. this distance appeared so great, that i told belanger it was very unsafe for him to attempt it alone, and that he would be several days in accomplishing it. he stated, however, that as the track was beaten, he should experience little fatigue, and seemed so confident, that i suffered him to depart with a supply of singed hide. next day i received information which explained why he was so unwilling to acquaint us with the situation of mr. back's party. he dreaded that i should resolve upon joining it, when our numbers would be so great as to consume at once every thing st. germain might kill, if by accident he should be successful in hunting. he even endeavoured to entice away our other hunter, adam, and proposed to him to carry off the only kettle we had, and without which we could not have subsisted two days. adam's inability to move, however, precluded him from agreeing to the proposal, but he could assign no reason for not acquainting me with it previous to belanger's departure. i was at first inclined to consider the whole matter as a fiction of adam's, but he persisted in his story without wavering; and belanger, when we met again, confessed that every part of it was true. it is painful to have to record a fact so derogatory to human nature, but i have deemed it proper to mention it, to shew the difficulties we had to contend with, and the effect which distress had in warping the feelings and understanding of the most diligent and obedient of our party; for such belanger had been always esteemed up to this time. in making arrangements for our departure, adam disclosed to me, for the first time, that he was affected with oedematous swellings in some parts of the body, to such a degree as to preclude the slightest attempt at marching; and upon my expressing my surprise at his having hitherto concealed from me the extent of his malady, among other explanations the details of the preceding story came out. it now became necessary to abandon the original intention of proceeding with the whole party towards fort providence, and peltier and samandrè having volunteered to remain with adam, i determined on setting out with benoit and augustus, intending to send them relief by the first party of indians we should meet. my clothes were so much torn, as to be quite inadequate to screen me from the wind, and peltier and samandrè fearing that i might suffer on the journey in consequence, kindly exchanged with me parts of their dress, desiring me to send them skins in return by the indians. having patched up three pair of snow shoes, and singed{42} a quantity of skin for the journey, we started on the morning of the 20th. previous to my departure, i packed up the journals of the officers, the charts, and some other documents, together with a letter addressed to the under-secretary of state, detailing the occurrences of the expedition up to this period, which package was given in charge to peltier and samandrè with directions that it should be brought away by the indians who might come to them. i also instructed them to send succour immediately on its arrival to our companions in the rear, which they solemnly promised to do, and i left a letter for my friends, richardson and hood, to be sent at the same time. i thought it necessary to admonish peltier, samandrè, and adam, to eat two meals every day, in order to keep up their strength, which they promised me they would do. no language that i can use could adequately describe the parting scene. i shall only say there was far more calmness and resignation to the divine will evinced by every one than could have been expected. we were all cheered by the hope that the indians would be found by the one party, and relief sent to the other. those who remained entreated us to make all the haste we could, and expressed their hope of seeing the indians in ten or twelve days. at first starting we were so feeble as scarcely to be able to move forwards, and the descent of the bank of the river through the deep snow was a severe labour. when we came upon the ice, where the snow was less deep, we got on better, but after walking six hours we had only gained four miles, and were then compelled by fatigue to encamp on the borders of round-rock lake. augustus tried for fish here, but without success, so that our fare was skin and tea. composing ourselves to rest, we lay close to each other for warmth. we found the night bitterly cold, and the wind pierced through our famished frames. the next morning was mild and pleasant for travelling, and we set out after breakfast. we had not, however, gone many yards before i had the misfortune to break my snow shoes by falling between two rocks. this accident prevented me from keeping pace with benoit and augustus, and in the attempt i became quite exhausted. feeling convinced that their being delayed on my account might prove of fatal consequence to the rest, i resolved on returning to the house, and letting them proceed alone in search of the indians. i therefore halted them only whilst i wrote a note to mr. back, stating the reason of my return, and desiring he would send meat from rein-deer lake by these men, if st. germain should kill any animals there. if benoit should miss mr. back, i directed him to proceed to fort providence, and furnished him with a letter to the gentleman in charge of it, requesting that immediate supplies might be sent to us. on my return to the house, i found samandrè very dispirited, and too weak, as he said, to render any assistance to peltier; upon whom the whole labour of getting wood and collecting the means of subsistence would have devolved. conscious, too, that his strength would have been unequal to these tasks, they had determined upon taking only one meal each day; so that i felt my going{43} back particularly fortunate, as i hoped to stimulate samandrè to exertion, and at any rate could contribute some help to peltier. i undertook the office of cooking, and insisted they should eat twice a day whenever food could be procured; but as i was too weak to pound the bones, peltier agreed to do that in addition to his more fatiguing task of getting wood. we had a violent snow storm all the next day, and this gloomy weather increased the depression of spirits under which adam and samandrè were labouring. neither of them would quit their beds, and they scarcely ceased from shedding tears all day; in vain did peltier and myself endeavour to cheer them. we had even to use much entreaty before they would take the meals we had prepared for them. our situation was indeed distressing, but in comparison with that of our friends in the rear, we thought it happy. their condition gave us unceasing solicitude, and was the principal subject of our conversation. though the weather was stormy on the 26th, samandrè assisted me to gather _tripe de roche_. adam, who was very ill, and could not now be prevailed upon to eat this weed, subsisted principally on bones, though he also partook of the soup. the _tripe de roche_ had hitherto afforded us our chief support, and we naturally felt great uneasiness at the prospect of being deprived of it, by its being so frozen as to render it impossible for us to gather it. we perceived our strength decline every day, and every exertion began to be irksome; when we were once seated the greatest effort was necessary in order to rise, and we had frequently to lift each other from our seats; but even in this pitiable condition we conversed cheerfully, being sanguine as to the speedy arrival of the indians. we calculated indeed that if they should be near the situation where they had remained last winter, our men would have reached them by this day. having expended all the wood which we could procure from our present dwelling, without danger of its fall, peltier began this day to pull down the partitions of the adjoining houses. though these were only distant about twenty yards, yet the increase of labour in carrying the wood fatigued him so much, that by the evening he was exhausted. on the next day his weakness was such, especially in the arms, of which he chiefly complained, that he with difficulty lifted the hatchet; still he persevered, while samandrè and i assisted him in bringing in the wood, but our united strength could only collect sufficient to replenish the fire four times in the course of the day. as the insides of our mouths had become sore from eating the bone-soup, we relinquished the use of it, and now boiled the skin, which mode of dressing we found more palatable than frying it, as we had hitherto done. on the 29th, peltier felt his pains more severe, and could only cut a few pieces of wood. samandrè, who was still almost as weak, relieved him a little time, and i aided them in carrying in the wood. we endeavoured to pick some _tripe de roche_, but in vain, as it was entirely frozen. in turning up the snow, in searching for bones, i found several pieces of bark, which proved a valuable acquisition, as we were almost destitute of dry wood proper for kindling the fire. we saw a herd of rein-deer sporting on the river, about half a mile from the house; they remained there a long time, but none of the party felt themselves strong enough to go after them, nor was there one of us who could have fired a gun without resting it. whilst we were seated round the fire this evening, discoursing about the anticipated relief, the conversation was suddenly interrupted by peltier's exclaiming with joy, "_ah! le monde!_" imagining that he heard the indians in the other room; immediately afterwards, to his bitter disappointment, dr. richardson and hepburn entered, each carrying his bundle. peltier, however, soon recovered himself enough to express his delight at their safe arrival, and his regret that their companions{44} were not with them. when i saw them alone my own mind was instantly filled with apprehensions respecting my friend hood, and our other companions, which were immediately confirmed by the doctor's melancholy communication, that mr. hood and michel were dead. perrault and fontano had neither reached the tent, nor been heard of by them. this intelligence produced a melancholy despondency in the minds of my party, and on that account the particulars were deferred until another opportunity. we were all shocked at beholding the emaciated countenances of the doctor and hepburn, as they strongly evidenced their extremely debilitated state. the alteration in our appearance was equally distressing to them, for since the swellings had subsided we were little more than skin and bone. the doctor particularly remarked the sepulchral tone of our voices, which he requested us to make more cheerful if possible, unconscious that his own partook of the same key. hepburn having shot a partridge, which was brought to the house, the doctor tore out the feathers, and having held it to the fire a few minutes divided it into six portions. i and my three companions ravenously devoured our shares, as it was the first morsel of flesh any of us had tasted for thirty-one days, unless, indeed the small gristly particles which we found occasionally adhering to the pounded bones may be termed flesh. our spirits were revived by this small supply, and the doctor endeavoured to raise them still higher by the prospect of hepburn's being able to kill a deer next day, as they had seen, and even fired at, several near the house. he endeavoured, too, to rouse us into some attention to the comfort of our apartment, and particularly to roll up, in the day, our blankets, which (expressly for the convenience of adam and samandrè,) we had been in the habit of leaving by the fire where we lay on them. the doctor having brought his prayer-book and testament, some prayers and psalms, and portions of scripture, appropriate to our situation, were read, and we retired to bed. next morning the doctor and hepburn went out early in search of deer; but though they saw several herds and fired some shots, they were not so fortunate as to kill any, being too weak to hold their guns steadily. the cold compelled the former to return soon, but hepburn persisted until late in the evening. my occupation was to search for skins under the snow, it being now our object immediately to get all that we would, but i had not strength to drag in more than two of those which were within twenty yards of the house until the doctor came and assisted me. we made up our stock to twenty-six, but several of them were putrid, and scarcely eatable, even by men suffering the extremity of famine. peltier and samandrè continued very weak and dispirited, and they were unable to cut fire-wood. hepburn had in consequence that laborious task to perform after he came back. the doctor having scarified the swelled parts of adam's body, a large quantity of water flowed out, and he obtained some ease, but still kept his bed. after our usual supper of singed skin and bone soup, dr. richardson acquainted me with the afflicting circumstances attending the death of mr. hood and michel, and detailed the occurrences subsequent to my departure from them, which i shall give from his journal, in his own words; but i must here be permitted to express the heart-felt sorrow with which i was overwhelmed at the loss of so many companions; especially of my friend mr. hood, to whose zealous and able co-operation i had been indebted for so much invaluable assistance during the expedition, whilst the excellent qualities of his heart engaged my warmest regard. his scientific observations, together with his maps and drawings (a small part of which only appear in this work), evince a variety of talent, which, had his life been spared, must have rendered him a distinguished ornament to his profession, and which will cause his death to be felt as a loss to the service. dr. richardson's narrative. after captain franklin had bidden us farewell we remained seated by the fire-side as long as the willows the men had cut for us before they departed, lasted. we had no _tripe de roche_ that day, but drank an infusion of the country tea-plant, which was grateful from its warmth, although it afforded no sustenance. we then retired to bed, where we remained all the next day, as the weather was stormy, and the snow-drift so heavy, as to destroy every prospect of success in our endeavours to light a fire with the green and frozen willows, which were our only fuel. through the extreme kindness and forethought of a lady, the party, previous to leaving london, had been furnished with a small collection of religious books, of which we still retained two or three of the most portable, and they proved of incalculable benefit to us. we read portions of them to each other as we lay in bed, in addition to the morning and evening service, and found that they inspired us on each perusal with so strong a sense of the omnipresence of a beneficent god, that our situation, even in these wilds, appeared no longer destitute; and we conversed, not only with calmness, but with cheerfulness, detailing with unrestrained confidence the past events of our lives, and dwelling with hope on our future prospects. had my poor friend been spared to revisit his native land, i should look back to this period with unalloyed delight. on the morning of the 9th, the weather, although still cold, was clear, and i went out in quest of _tripe de roche_, leaving hepburn to cut willows for a fire, and mr. hood in bed. i had no success, as yesterday's snow-drift was so frozen on the surface of the rocks that i could not collect any of the weed; but on my return to the tent, i found that michel, the iroquois, had come with a note from mr. franklin, which stated, that this man and jean baptiste belanger being unable to proceed, were about to return to us, and that a mile beyond our present encampment there was a clump of pine-trees, to which he recommended us to remove the tent. michel informed us that he quitted mr. franklin's party yesterday morning, but, that having missed his way, he had passed the night on the snow a mile or two to the northward of us. belanger, he said, being impatient, left the fire about two hours earlier, and, as he had not arrived, he supposed must have gone astray. it will be seen in the sequel, that we had more than sufficient reason to doubt the truth of this story. michel now produced a hare and a partridge which he had killed in the morning. this unexpected supply of provision was received by us with a deep sense of gratitude to the almighty for his goodness, and we looked upon michel as the instrument he had chosen to preserve all our lives. he complained of cold, and mr. hood offered to share his buffalo robe with him at night: i gave him one of two shirts which i wore, whilst hepburn in the warmth of his heart, exclaimed, "how i shall love this man if i find that he does not tell lies like the others." our meals being finished, we arranged that the greatest part of the things should be carried to the pines the next day; and, after reading the evening service retired to bed full of hope. early in the morning hepburn, michel, and myself, carried the ammunition, and most of the other heavy articles to the pines. michel was our guide, and it did not occur to us at the time that his conducting us perfectly straight was incompatible with his story of having mistaken his road in coming to us. he now informed us that he had, on his way to the tent, left on the hill above the pines a gun and forty-eight balls, which perrault had given to him when with the rest of mr. franklin's party, he took leave of him. it will be seen, on a reference to mr. franklin's journal, that perrault carried his gun and ammunition with him when they parted from michel and belanger. after we had made a fire, and drank a little of the country tea, hepburn and i returned to the tent, where we arrived in the evening, much exhausted with our journey. michel preferred sleeping where he was, and requested us to leave him the hatchet, which we did, after he had promised to come early in the morning to assist us in carrying the tent and bedding. mr. hood remained in bed all day. seeing nothing of belanger to-day, we gave him up for lost. on the 11th, after waiting until late in the morning for michel, who did not come, hepburn and i loaded ourselves with the bedding, and, accompanied by mr. hood, set out for the pines. mr. hood was much affected with dimness of sight, giddiness, and other symptoms of extreme debility, which caused us to move very slowly, and to make frequent halts. on arriving at the pines, we were much alarmed to find that michel was absent. we feared that he had lost his way in coming to us in the morning, although it was not easy to conjecture how that could have happened, as our footsteps of yesterday were very distinct. hepburn went back for the tent, and returned with it after dusk, completely worn out with the fatigue of the day. michel too arrived at the same time, and relieved our anxiety on his account. he reported that he had been in chase of some deer which passed near his sleeping-place in the morning, and although he did not come up with them, yet that he found a wolf which had been killed by the stroke of a deer's horn, and had brought a part of it. we implicitly believed this story then, but afterwards became convinced from circumstances, the detail of which may be spared, that it must have been a portion of the body of belanger or perrault. a question of moment here presents itself; namely, whether he actually murdered these men, or either of them, or whether he found the bodies in the snow. captain franklin, who is the best able to judge of this matter, from knowing their situation when he parted from them, suggested the former idea, and that both belanger and perrault had been sacrificed. when perrault turned back, captain franklin watched him until he reached a small group of willows, which was immediately adjoining to the fire, and concealed it from view, and at this time the smoke of fresh fuel was distinctly visible. captain franklin conjectures, that michel having already destroyed belanger, completed his crime by perrault's death, in order to screen himself from detection. although this opinion is founded only on circumstances, and is unsupported by direct evidence, it has been judged proper to mention it, especially as the subsequent conduct of the man shewed that he was capable of committing such a deed. the circumstances are very strong. it is not easy to assign any other adequate motive for his concealing from us that perrault had turned back; while his request overnight that we should leave him the hatchet, and his cumbering himself with it when he went out in the morning, unlike a hunter who makes use only of his knife when he kills a deer, seem to indicate that he took it for the purpose of cutting up something that he knew to be frozen. these opinions, however, are the result of subsequent consideration. we passed this night in the open air. on the following morning the tent was pitched; michel went out early, refused my offer to accompany him, and remained out the whole day. he would not sleep in the tent at night, but chose to lie at the fire-side. on the 13th there was a heavy gale of wind, and we passed the day by the fire. next day, about two p.m., the gale abating, michel set out as he said to hunt, but returned unexpectedly in a very short time. this conduct surprised us, and his contradictory and evasory answers to our questions excited some suspicions, but they did not turn towards the truth. _october 15th_.--in the course of this day michel expressed much regret that he had stayed behind mr. franklin's party, and declared that he would set out for the house at once if he knew the way. we endeavoured to sooth him, and to raise his hopes of the indians speedily coming to our relief, but without success. he refused to assist us in cutting wood, but about noon, after much solicitation, he set out to hunt. hepburn gathered a kettleful of _tripe de roche_, but froze his fingers. both hepburn and i fatigued ourselves much to-day in pursuing a flock of partridges from one part to another of the group of willows, in which the hut was situated, but we were too weak to be able to approach them with sufficient caution. in the evening michel returned, having met with no success. next day he refused either to hunt or cut wood, spoke in a very surly manner, and threatened to leave us. under these circumstances, mr. hood and i deemed it better to promise if he would hunt diligently for four days, that then we would give hepburn a letter for mr. franklin, a compass, inform him what course to pursue, and let them proceed together to the fort. the non-arrival of the indians to our relief, now led us to fear that some accident had happened to mr. franklin, and we placed no confidence in the exertions of the canadians that accompanied him, but we had the fullest confidence in hepburn's returning the moment he could obtain assistance. on the 17th i went to conduct michel to where vaillant's blanket was left, and after walking about three miles, pointed out the hills to him at a distance, and returned to the hut, having gathered a bagful of _tripe de roche_ on the way. it was easier to gather this weed on a march than at the tent, for the exercise of walking produced a glow of heat, which enabled us to withstand for a time the cold to which we were exposed in scraping the frozen surface of the rocks. on the contrary, when we left the fire, to collect it in the neighbourhood of the hut, we became chilled at once, and were obliged to return very quickly. michel proposed to remain out all night, and to hunt next day on his way back. he returned in the afternoon of the 18th, having found the blanket, together with a bag containing two pistols, and some other things which had been left beside it. we had some _tripe de roche_ in the evening, but mr. hood from the constant griping it produced, was unable to eat more than one or two spoonfuls. he was now so weak as to be scarcely able to sit up at the fire-side, and complained that the least breeze of wind seemed to blow through his frame. he also suffered much from cold during the night. we lay close to each other, but the heat of the body was no longer sufficient to thaw the frozen rime formed by our breaths on the blankets that covered him. at this period we avoided as much as possible conversing upon the hopelessness of our situation, and generally endeavoured to lead the conversation towards our future prospects in life. the fact is, that with the decay of our strength, our minds decayed, and we were no longer able to bear the contemplation of the horrors that surrounded us. each of us, if i may be allowed to judge from my own case, excused himself from so doing by a desire of not shocking the feelings of the others, for we were sensible of one another's weakness of intellect though blind to our own. yet we were calm and resigned to our fate, not a murmur escaped us, and we were punctual and fervent in our addresses to the supreme being. on the 19th michel refused to hunt, or even to assist in carrying a log of wood to the fire, which was too heavy for hepburn's strength and mine. mr. hood endeavoured to point out to him the necessity and duty of exertion, and the cruelty of his quitting us without leaving something for our support; but the discourse, far from producing any beneficial effect, seemed only to excite his anger, and amongst other expressions, he made use of the following remarkable one: "it is no use hunting,{45} there are no animals, you had better kill and eat me." at length, however, he went out, but returned very soon, with a report that he had seen three deer, which he was unable to follow from having wet his foot in a small stream of water thinly covered with ice, and being consequently obliged to come to the fire. the day was rather mild, and hepburn and i gathered a large kettleful of _tripe de roche_; michel slept in the tent this night. _sunday, october 20_.--in the morning we again urged michel to go a hunting that he might if possible leave us some provision, to-morrow being the day appointed for his quitting us; but he shewed great unwillingness to go out, and lingered about the fire, under the pretence of cleaning his gun. after we had read the morning service i went about noon to gather some _tripe de roche_, leaving mr. hood sitting before the tent at the fire-side arguing with michel; hepburn was employed cutting down a tree at a short distance from the tent, being desirous of accumulating a quantity of fire-wood{46} before he left us. a short time after i went out, i heard the report of a gun, and about ten minutes afterwards hepburn called to me in a voice of great alarm, to come directly. when i arrived i found poor hood lying lifeless at the fire-side, a ball having apparently entered his forehead. i was at first horror-struck with the idea, that in a fit of despondency he had hurried himself into the presence of his almighty judge, by an act of his own hand; but the conduct of michel soon gave rise to other thoughts, and excited suspicions which were confirmed, when upon examining the body, i discovered that the shot had entered the back part of the head, and passed out at the forehead, and that the muzzle of the gun had been applied so close as to set fire to the night-cap behind. the gun, which was of the longest kind supplied to the indians, could not have been placed in a position to inflict such a wound, except by a second person. upon inquiring of michel how it happened, he replied, that mr. hood had sent him into the tent for the short gun, and that during his absence the long gun had gone off, he did not know whether by accident or not. he held the short gun in his hand at the time he was speaking to me. hepburn afterwards informed me that previous to the report of the gun mr. hood and michel were speaking to each other in an elevated angry tone; that mr. hood being seated at the fire-side, was hid from him by intervening willows, but that on hearing the report he looked up and saw michel rising up from before the tent-door, or just behind where mr. hood was seated, and then going into the tent. thinking that the gun had been discharged for the purpose of cleaning it, he did not go to the fire at first; and when michel called to him that mr. hood was dead, a considerable time had elapsed. although i dared not openly to evince any suspicion that i thought michel guilty of the deed, yet he repeatedly protested that he was incapable of committing such an act, kept constantly on his guard, and carefully avoided leaving hepburn and me together. he was evidently afraid of permitting us to converse in private, and whenever hepburn spoke, he inquired if he accused him of the murder. it is to be remarked, that he understood english very imperfectly, yet sufficiently to render it unsafe for us to speak on the subject in his presence. we removed the body into a clump of willows behind the tent, and, returning to the fire, read the funeral service in addition to the evening prayers. the loss of a young officer, of such distinguished and varied talents and application, may be felt and duly appreciated by the eminent characters under whose command he had served; but the calmness with which he contemplated the probable termination of a life of uncommon promise; and the patience and fortitude with which he sustained, i may venture to say, unparalleled bodily sufferings, can only be known to the companions of his distresses. owing to the effect that the _tripe de roche_ invariably had, when he ventured to taste it, he undoubtedly suffered more than any of the survivors of the party. _bickersteth's scripture help_ was lying open beside the body, as if it had fallen from his hand, and it is probable, that he was reading it at the instant of his death. we passed the night in the tent together without rest, every one being on his guard. next day, having determined on going to the fort, we began to patch and prepare our clothes for the journey. we singed the hair off a part of the buffalo robe that belonged to mr. hood, and boiled and ate it. michel tried to persuade me to go to the woods on the copper-mine river, and hunt for deer instead of going to the fort. in the afternoon a flock of partridges coming near the tent, he killed several which he shared with us. thick snowy weather and a head wind prevented us from starting the following day, but on the morning of the 23d we set out, carrying with us the remainder of the singed robe. hepburn and michel had each a gun, and i carried a small pistol which hepburn had loaded for me. in the course of the march michel alarmed us much by his gestures and conduct, was constantly muttering to himself, expressed an unwillingness to go the fort, and tried to persuade me to go to the southward to the woods, where he said he could maintain himself all the winter by killing deer. in consequence of this behaviour, and the expression of his countenance, i requested him to leave us, and to go to the southward by himself. this proposal increased his ill-nature, he threw out some obscure hints of freeing himself from all restraint on the morrow{47}; and i overheard him muttering threats against hepburn, whom he openly accused of having told stories against him. he also, for the first time, assumed such a tone of superiority in addressing me, as evinced that he considered us to be completely in his power, and he gave vent to several expressions of hatred towards the white people, or as he termed us in the idiom of the voyagers, the french, some of whom, he said, had killed and eaten his uncle and two of his relations. in short, taking every circumstance of his conduct into consideration, i came to the conclusion that he would attempt to destroy us on the first opportunity that offered, and that he had hitherto abstained from doing so from his ignorance of his way to the fort, but that he would never suffer us to go thither in company with him. in the course of the day he had several times remarked that we were pursuing the same course that mr. franklin was doing when he left him, and that by keeping towards the setting sun he could find his way himself. hepburn and i were not in a condition to resist even an open attack, nor could we by any device escape from him. our united strength was far inferior to his, and, beside his gun, he was armed with two pistols, an indian bayonet and a knife. in the afternoon, coming to a rock on which there was some _tripe de roche_, he halted, and said he would gather it whilst we went on, and that he would soon overtake us. hepburn and i were now left together for the first time since mr. hood's death, and he acquainted me with several material circumstances which he had observed of michel's behaviour, and which confirmed me in the opinion that there was no safety for us except in his death, and he offered to be the instrument of it. i determined, however, as i was thoroughly convinced of the necessity of such a dreadful act, to take the whole responsibility upon myself; and immediately upon michel's coming up, i put an end to his life by shooting him through the head with a pistol. had my own life alone been threatened, i would not have purchased it by such a measure; but i considered myself as intrusted also with the protection of hepburn's, a man, who, by his humane attentions and devotedness, had so endeared himself to me, that i felt more anxiety for his safety than for my own. michel had gathered no _tripe de roche_, and it was evident to us that he had halted for the purpose of putting his gun in order, with the intention of attacking us, perhaps, whilst we were in the act of encamping. i have dwelt in the preceding part of the narrative upon many circumstances of michel's conduct, not for the purpose of aggravating his crime, but to put the reader in possession of the reasons that influenced me in depriving a fellow-creature of life. up to the period of his return to the tent, his conduct had been good and respectful to the officers, and in a conversation between captain franklin, mr. hood, and myself, at obstruction rapid, it had been proposed to give him a reward upon our arrival at a post. his principles, however, unsupported by a belief in the divine truths of christianity, were unable to withstand the pressure of severe distress. his countrymen, the iroquois, are generally christians, but he was totally uninstructed and ignorant of the duties inculcated by christianity; and from his long residence in the indian country, seems to have imbibed, or retained the rules of conduct which the southern indians prescribe to themselves. on the two following days we had mild but thick snowy weather, and as the view was too limited to enable us to preserve a straight course, we remained encamped amongst a few willows and dwarf pines, about five miles from the tent. we found a species of _cornicularia_, a kind of lichen, that was good to eat when moistened and toasted over the fire; and we had a good many pieces of singed buffalo hide remaining. on the 26th, the weather being clear and extremely cold, we resumed our march which was very painful from the depth of the snow, particularly on the margins of the small lakes that lay in our route. we frequently sunk under the load of our blankets, and were obliged to assist each other in getting up. after walking about three miles and a half, however, we were cheered by the sight of a large herd of rein-deer, and hepburn went in pursuit of them; but his hand being unsteady through weakness he missed. he was so exhausted by this fruitless attempt that we were obliged to encamp upon the spot, although it was a very unfavourable one. next day, we had fine and clear, but cold, weather. we set out early, and, in crossing a hill, found a considerable quantity of _tripe de roche_. about noon we fell upon little marten lake, having walked about two miles. the sight of a place that we knew, inspired us with fresh vigour, and there being comparatively little snow on the ice, we advanced at a pace to which we had lately been unaccustomed. in the afternoon we crossed a recent track of a wolverene, which, from a parallel mark in the snow, appeared to have been dragging something. hepburn traced it, and upon the borders of the lake found the spine of a deer, that it had dropped. it was clean picked, and at least one season old; but we extracted the spinal marrow from it, which, even in its frozen state, was so acrid as to excoriate the lips. we encamped within sight of the dog-rib rock, and from the coldness of the night and the want of fuel, rested very ill. on the 28th we rose at day-break, but from the want of the small fire, that we usually made in the mornings to warm our fingers, a very long time was spent in making up our bundles. this task fell to hepburn's share, as i suffered so much from the cold as to be unable to take my hands out of my mittens. we kept a straight course for the dog-rib rock, but, owing to the depth of the snow in the valleys we had to cross, did not reach it until late in the afternoon. we would have encamped, but did not like to pass a second night without fire; and though scarcely able to drag our limbs after us, we pushed on to a clump of pines, about a mile to the southward of the rock, and arrived at them in the dusk of the evening. during the last few hundred yards of our march, our track lay over some large stones, amongst which i fell down upwards of twenty times, and became at length so exhausted that i was unable to stand. if hepburn had not exerted himself far beyond his strength, and speedily made the encampment and kindled a fire, i must have perished on the spot. this night we had plenty of dry wood. on the 29th we had clear and fine weather. we set out at sunrise, and hurried on in our anxiety to reach the house, but our progress was much impeded by the great depth of the snow in the valleys. although every spot of ground over which we travelled to-day, had been repeatedly trodden by us, yet we got bewildered in a small lake. we took it for marten lake, which was three times its size, and fancied that we saw the rapids and the grounds about the fort, although they were still far distant. our disappointment when this illusion was dispelled, by our reaching the end of the lake, so operated on our feeble minds as to exhaust our strength, and we decided upon encamping; but upon ascending a small eminence to look for a clump of wood, we caught a glimpse of the big stone, a well-known rock upon the summit of a hill opposite to the fort, and determined upon proceeding. in the evening we saw several large herds of rein-deer, but hepburn, who used to be{48} considered a good marksman, was now unable to hold the gun straight, and although he got near them all his efforts proved fruitless. in passing through a small clump of pines we saw a flock of partridges, and he succeeded in killing one after firing several shots. we came in sight of the fort at dusk, and it is impossible to describe our sensations, when on attaining the eminence that overlooks it, we beheld the smoke issuing from one of the chimneys. from not having met with any footsteps in the snow, as we drew nigh our once cheerful residence, we had been agitated by many melancholy forebodings. upon entering the now desolate building, we had the satisfaction of embracing captain franklin, but no words can convey an idea of the filth and wretchedness that met our eyes on looking around. our own misery had stolen upon us by degrees, and we were accustomed to the contemplation of each others emaciated figures, but the ghastly countenances, dilated eye-balls, and sepulchral voices of captain franklin and those with him were more than we could at first bear. _conclusion of dr. richardson's narrative._ * * * * * the morning of the 31st was very cold, the wind being strong from the north. hepburn went again in quest of deer, and the doctor endeavoured to kill some partridges: both were unsuccessful. a large herd of deer passed close to the house, the doctor fired once at them, but was unable to pursue them. adam was easier this day, and left his bed. peltier and samandrè{49} were much weaker, and could not assist in the labours of the day. both complained of soreness in the throat, and samandrè suffered much from cramps in his fingers. the doctor and hepburn began this day to cut the wood, and also brought it to the house. being too weak to aid in these laborious tasks, i was employed in searching for bones, and cooking, and attending to our more weakly companions. in the evening peltier, complaining much of cold, requested of me a portion of a blanket to repair his shirt and drawers. the mending of these articles occupied him and samandrè until past one a.m., and their spirits were so much revived by the employment, that they conversed even cheerfully the whole time. adam sat up with them. the doctor, hepburn, and myself, went to bed. we were afterwards agreeably surprised to see peltier and samandrè carry three or four logs of wood across the room to replenish the fire, which induced us to hope they still possessed more strength than we had supposed. _november 1_.--this day was fine and mild. hepburn went hunting, but was as usual unsuccessful. as his strength was rapidly declining, we advised him to desist from the pursuit of deer; and only to go out for a short time, and endeavour to kill a few partridges for peltier and samandrè. the doctor obtained a little _tripe de roche_, but peltier could not eat any of it, and samandrè only a few spoonfuls, owing to the soreness of their throats. in the afternoon peltier was so much exhausted, that he sat up with difficulty, and looked piteously; at length he slided from his stool upon his bed, as we supposed to sleep, and in this composed state he remained upwards of two hours, without our apprehending any danger. we were then alarmed by hearing a rattling in his throat, and on the doctor's examining him, he was found to be speechless. he died in the course of the night. samandrè sat up the greater part of the day, and even assisted in pounding some bones; but on witnessing the melancholy state of peltier, he became very low, and began to complain of cold and stiffness of the joints. being unable to keep up a sufficient fire to warm him, we laid him down and covered him with several blankets. he did not, however, appear to get better, and i deeply lament to add he also died before daylight. we removed the bodies of the deceased into the opposite part of the house, but our united strength was inadequate to the task of interring them, or even carrying them down to the river. it may be worthy of remark that poor peltier, from the time of benoit's departure, had fixed on the first of november as the time when he should cease to expect any relief from the indians, and had repeatedly said that if they did not arrive by that day, he should not survive. peltier had endeared himself to each of us by his cheerfulness, his unceasing activity, and affectionate care and attentions, ever since our arrival at this place. he had nursed adam with the tenderest solicitude the whole time. poor samandrè was willing to have taken his share in the labours of the party, had he not been wholly incapacitated by his weakness and low spirits. the severe shock occasioned by the sudden dissolution of our two companions rendered us very melancholy. adam became low and despondent, a change which we lamented the more, as we had perceived he had been gaining strength and spirits for the two preceding days. i was particularly distressed by the thought that the labour of collecting wood must now devolve upon dr. richardson and hepburn, and that my debility would disable me from affording them any material assistance; indeed both of them most kindly urged me not to make the attempt. they were occupied the whole of the next day in tearing down the logs of which the store-house was built, but the mud plastered between them was so hard frozen that the labour of separation exceeded their strength, and they were completely exhausted by bringing in wood sufficient for less than twelve hours' consumption. i found it necessary in their absence, to remain constantly near adam, and to converse with him, in order to prevent his reflecting on our condition, and to keep up his spirits as far as possible. i also lay by his side at night. on the 3d the weather was very cold, though the atmosphere was cloudy. this morning hepburn was affected with swelling in his limbs, his strength as well as that of the doctor, was rapidly declining; they continued, however, to be full of hope. their utmost exertions could only supply wood, to renew the fire thrice, and on making it up the last time we went to bed. adam was in rather better spirits, but he could not bear to be left alone. our stock of bones was exhausted by a small quantity of soup we made this evening. the toil of separating the hair from the skins, which in fact were our chief support, had now become so wearisome as to prevent us from eating as much as we should otherwise have done. _november 4_.--calm and comparatively mild weather. the doctor and hepburn, exclusive of their usual occupation, gathered some _tripe de roche_. i went a few yards from the house in search of bones, and returned quite fatigued, having found but three. the doctor again made incisions in adam's leg, which discharged a considerable quantity of water, and gave him great relief. we read prayers and a portion of the new testament in the morning and evening, as had been our practice since dr. richardson's arrival; and i may remark that the performance of these duties always afforded us the greatest consolation, serving to re-animate our hope in the mercy of the omnipotent, who alone could save and deliver us. on the 5th the breezes were light, with dark cloudy weather, and some snow. the doctor and hepburn were getting much weaker, and the limbs of the latter were now greatly swelled. they came into the house frequently in the course of the day to rest themselves, and when once seated, were unable to rise without the help of one another, or of a stick. adam was for the most part in the same low state as yesterday, but sometimes he surprised us by getting up and walking with an appearance of increased strength. his looks were now wild and ghastly, and his conversation was often incoherent. the next day was fine, but very cold. the swellings in adam's limbs having subsided, he was free from pain, and arose this morning in much better spirits, and spoke of cleaning his gun ready for shooting partridges, or any animals that might appear near the house, but his tone entirely changed before the day was half over; he became again dejected, and could scarcely be prevailed upon to eat. the doctor and hepburn were almost exhausted. the cutting of one log of wood occupied the latter half an hour; and the other took as much time to drag it into the house, though the distance did not exceed thirty yards. i endeavoured to help the doctor, but my assistance was very trifling. yet it was evident that, in a day or two, if their strength should continue to decline at the same rate, i should be the strongest of the party. i may here remark that owing to our loss of flesh, the hardness of the floor, from which we{50} were only protected by a blanket, produced soreness over the body, and especially those parts on which the weight rested in lying, yet to turn ourselves for relief was a matter of toil and difficulty. however, during this period, and indeed all along after the acute pains of hunger, which lasted but three or four days, had subsided, we generally enjoyed the comfort of a few hours' sleep. the dreams which for the most part, but not always accompanied it, were usually (though not invariably,) of a pleasant character, being very often about the enjoyments of feasting. in the day-time we fell into the practice of conversing on common and light subjects, although we sometimes discussed with seriousness and earnestness topics connected with religion. we generally avoided speaking directly of our present sufferings, or even of the prospect of relief. i observed, that in proportion as our strength decayed, our minds exhibited symptoms of weakness, evinced by a kind of unreasonable pettishness with each other. each of us thought the other weaker in intellect than himself, and more in need of advice and assistance. so trifling a circumstance as a change of place, recommended by one as being warmer and more comfortable, and refused by the other from a dread of motion, frequently called forth fretful expressions which were no sooner uttered than atoned for, to be repeated perhaps in the course of a few minutes. the same thing often occurred when we endeavoured to assist each other in carrying wood to the fire; none of us were willing to receive assistance, although the task was disproportioned to our strength. on one of these occasions, hepburn was so convinced of this waywardness that he exclaimed, "dear me, if we are spared to return to england, i wonder if we shall recover our understandings." _november 7_.--adam had passed a restless night, being disquieted by gloomy apprehensions of approaching death, which we tried in vain to dispel. he was so low in the morning as to be scarcely able to speak. i remained in bed by his side to cheer him as much as possible. the doctor and hepburn went to cut wood. they had hardly begun their labour, when they were amazed at hearing the report of a musket. they could scarcely believe that there was really any one near, until they heard a shout, and immediately espied three indians close to the house. adam and i heard the latter noise, and i was fearful that a part of the house had fallen upon one of my companions, a disaster which had in fact been thought not unlikely. my alarm was only momentary, dr. richardson came in to communicate the joyful intelligence that relief had arrived. he and myself immediately addressed thanksgivings to the throne of mercy for this deliverance, but poor adam was in so low a state that he could scarcely comprehend the information. when the indians entered, he attempted to rise but sank down again. but for this seasonable interposition of providence, his existence must have terminated in a few hours, and that of the rest probably in not many days. the indians had left akaitcho's encampment on the 5th november, having been sent by mr. back with all possible expedition, after he had arrived at their tents. they brought but a small supply of provision that they might travel quickly. it consisted of dried deer's meat, some fat, and a few tongues. dr. richardson, hepburn, and i eagerly devoured the food, which they imprudently presented to us, in too great abundance, and in consequence we suffered dreadfully from indigestion, and had no rest the whole night. adam being unable to feed himself, was more judiciously treated by them, and suffered less; his spirits revived hourly. the circumstance of our eating more food than was proper in our present condition, was another striking proof of the debility of our minds. we were perfectly aware of the danger, and dr. richardson repeatedly cautioned us to be moderate; but he was himself unable to practise the caution he so judiciously recommended. boudel-kell, the youngest of the indians, after resting about an hour, returned to akaitcho with the intelligence of our situation, and he conveyed a note from me to mr. back, requesting another supply of meat as soon as possible. the two others, "crooked-foot and the rat," remained to take care of us, until we should be able to move forward. the note received by the indians from mr. back, communicated a tale of distress, with regard to himself and his party, as painful as that which we had suffered; as will be seen hereafter, by his own narrative. _november 8_.--the indians this morning requested us to remove to an encampment on the banks of the river, as they were unwilling to remain in the house where the bodies of our deceased companions were lying exposed to view. we agreed, but the day proved too stormy, and dr. richardson and hepburn having dragged the bodies to a short distance, and covered them with snow, the objections of the indians to remain in the house were dissipated, and they began to clear our room of the accumulation of dirt, and fragments of pounded bones. the improved state of our apartment, and the large and cheerful fires they kept up, produced in us a sensation of comfort to which we had long been strangers. in the evening they brought in a pile of dried wood, which was lying on the river-side, and towards which we had often cast a wishful eye, being unable to drag it up the bank. the indians set about every thing with an activity that amazed us. indeed, contrasted with our emaciated figures and extreme debility, their frames appeared to us gigantic, and their strength supernatural. these kind creatures next turned their attention to our personal appearance, and prevailed upon us to shave and wash ourselves. the beards of the doctor and hepburn had been untouched since they left the sea-coast, and were become of a hideous length, and peculiarly offensive to the indians. the doctor and i suffered extremely from distention, and therefore ate sparingly[15]. hepburn was getting better, and adam recovered his strength with amazing rapidity. [15] the first alvine discharges after we received food, were, as hearne remarks on a similar occasion, attended with excessive pain. previous to the arrival of the indians the urinary secretion was extremely abundant, and we were obliged to rise from bed in consequence upwards of ten times in a night. this was an extreme annoyance in our reduced state. it may, perhaps, be attributed to the quantity of the country tea that we drank. _november 9_.--this morning was pleasantly fine. crooked-foot caught four large trout in winter lake, which were very much prized, especially by the doctor and myself, who had taken a dislike to meat, in consequence of our sufferings from repletion, which rendered us almost incapable of moving. adam and hepburn in a good measure escaped this pain. though the night was stormy, and our apartment freely admitted the wind, we felt no inconvenience, the indians were so very careful in covering us up, and in keeping a good fire; and our plentiful cheer gave such power of resisting the cold, that we could scarcely believe otherwise than that the season had become milder. on the 13th, the weather was stormy, with constant snow. the indians became desponding at the non-arrival of the supply, and would neither go to hunt nor fish. they frequently expressed their fears of some misfortune having befallen boudel-kell; and, in the evening, went off suddenly, without apprizing us of their intention, having first given to each of us a handful of pounded meat, which they had reserved. their departure, at first, gave rise to a suspicion of their having deserted us, not meaning to return, especially as the explanations of adam, who appeared to be in their secret, were very unsatisfactory. at length, by interrogations, we got from him the information, that they designed to march night and day, until they should reach akaitcho's encampment, whence they would send us aid. as we had combated{51} their fears about boudel-kell, they, perhaps, apprehended that we should oppose their determination, and therefore concealed it. we were now left a second time without food, and with appetites recovered, and strongly excited{52} by recent indulgence. on the following day the doctor and hepburn resumed their former occupation of collecting wood, and i was able to assist a little in bringing it into the house. adam, whose expectation of the arrival of the indians had been raised by the fineness of the weather, became, towards night, very desponding, and refused to eat the singed skin. the night was stormy, and there was a heavy fall of snow. the next day he became still more dejected. about eleven, hepburn, who had gone out for the wood, came in with the intelligence that a party appeared upon the river. the room was instantly swept, and in compliance with the prejudices of the indians, every scrap of skin was carefully removed out of sight: for these simple people imagine, that burning deer-skin renders them unsuccessful in hunting. the party proved to be crooked-foot, thooee-yorre, and the fop, with the wives of the two latter dragging provisions. they were accompanied by benoit, one of our own men. we were rejoiced to learn, by a note from mr. back, dated november 11, that he and his companions had so recruited their strength that they were preparing to proceed to fort providence. adam recovered his spirits on the arrival of the indians and even walked about the room with an appearance of strength and activity that surprised us all. as it was of consequence to get amongst the rein-deer before our present supply should fail we made preparations for quitting fort enterprise the next day; and, accordingly, at an early hour, on the 16th, having united in thanksgiving and prayer, the whole party left the house after breakfast. our feelings on quitting the fort where we had formerly enjoyed much comfort if not happiness, and, latterly, experienced a degree of misery scarcely to be paralleled, may be more easily conceived than described. the indians treated us with the utmost tenderness, gave us their snow-shoes, and walked without themselves, keeping by our sides, that they might lift us when we fell. we descended winter river, and, about noon, crossed the head of round-rock lake, distant about three miles from the house, where we were obliged to halt, as dr. richardson was unable to proceed. the swellings in his limbs rendered him by much the weakest of the party. the indians prepared our encampment, cooked for us, and fed us as if we had been children; evincing humanity that would have done honour to the most civilized people. the night was mild, and fatigue made us sleep soundly. from this period to the 26th of november, we gradually improved, through their kindness and attention; and on that day arrived in safety at the abode of our chief and companion akaitcho. we were received by the party assembled in the leader's tent, with looks of compassion, and profound silence, which lasted about a quarter of an hour, and by which they meant to express their condolence for our sufferings. the conversation did not begin until we had tasted food. the chief, akaitcho, shewed us the most friendly hospitality, and all sorts of personal attention, even to cooking for us with his own hands, an office which he never performs for himself. annoethai-yazzeh and humpy, the chief's two brothers, and several of our hunters, with their families, were encamped here, together with a number of old men and women. in the course of the day we were visited by every person of the band, not merely from curiosity, but a desire to evince their tender sympathy in our late distress. we learned that mr. back, with st. germain and belanger, had gone to fort providence; and that, previous to his departure he had left a letter in a _cache_ of pounded meat, which we had missed two days ago. as we supposed that this letter might acquaint us with his intentions more fully than we could gather from the indians, through our imperfect knowledge of their language, augustus, the esquimaux, whom we found here in perfect health, and an indian lad, were despatched to bring it. we found several of the indian families in great affliction, for the loss of three of their relatives who had been drowned in the august preceding, by the upsetting of a canoe near fort enterprise. they bewailed the melancholy accident every morning and evening, by repeating the names of the persons in a loud singing tone, which was frequently interrupted by bursts of tears. one woman was so affected by the loss of her only son, that she seemed deprived of reason, and wandered about the tents the whole day, crying and singing out his name. on the 1st of december we removed with the indians to the southward. on the 4th we again set off after the indians about noon, and soon overtook them, as they had halted, to drag from the water, and cut up and share a moose-deer, that had been drowned in a rapid part of the river, partially covered with ice. these operations detained us a long time, which was the more disagreeable, as the weather was extremely unpleasant from cold low fogs. we were all much fatigued at the hour of encampment, which was after dark, though the day's journey did not exceed four miles. at every halt the elderly men of the tribe made holes in the ice and put in their lines. one of them shared the produce of his fishery with us this evening. in the afternoon of the 6th, belanger, and another canadian, arrived from fort providence, sent by mr. weeks with two trains of dogs, some spirits and tobacco for the indians, a change of dress for ourselves, and a little tea and sugar. they also brought letters for us from england, and from mr. back, and mr. wentzel. by the former we received the gratifying intelligence of the successful termination of captain parry's voyage; and were informed of the promotion of myself and mr. back, and of poor hood, our grief for whose loss was renewed by this intelligence. the letter from mr. back stated, that the rival companies in the fur trade had united; but that, owing to some cause which had not been explained to him, the goods intended as rewards to akaitcho and his band, which we had demanded in the spring from the north-west company, were not sent. there were, however some stores lying for us at moose-deer island, which had been ordered for the equipment of our voyagers; and mr. back had gone across to that establishment, to make a selection of the articles we could spare for a temporary present to the indians. the disappointment at the non-arrival of the goods was seriously felt by us, as we had looked forward with pleasure to the time when we should be enabled to recompense our kind indian friends, for their tender sympathy in our distresses, and the assistance they had so cheerfully and promptly rendered. i now regretted to find, that mr. wentzel and his party, in their return from the sea, had suffered severely on their march along the copper-mine river, having on one occasion, as he mentioned, had no food but _tripe de roche_ for eleven days. all the indians flocked to our encampment to learn the news, and to receive the articles brought for them. having got some spirits and tobacco, they withdrew to the tent of the chief, and passed the greater part of the night in singing. we had now the indescribable gratification of changing our linen, which had been worn ever since our departure from the sea-coast. _december 8_.--after a long conference with akaitcho, we took leave of him and his kind companions, and set out with two sledges heavily laden with provision and bedding, drawn by the dogs, and conducted by belanger and the canadian sent by mr. weeks. hepburn and augustus jointly dragged a smaller sledge, laden principally with their own bedding. adam and benoit were left to follow with the indians. we encamped on the grassy-lake portage, having walked about nine miles, principally on the yellow knife river. it was open at the rapids, and in these places we had to ascend its banks, and walk through the woods for some distance, which was very fatiguing, especially to dr. richardson, whose feet were severely galled in consequence of some defect in his snow-shoes. on the 11th, however, we arrived at the fort, which was still under the charge of mr. weeks. he welcomed us in the most kind manner, immediately gave us changes of dress, and did every thing in his power to make us comfortable. our sensations on being once more in a comfortable dwelling, after the series of hardships and miseries we had experienced, may be imagined. our first act was again to return our grateful praises to the almighty for the manifold instances of his mercy towards us. having found here some articles which mr. back had sent across from moose-deer island, i determined on awaiting the arrival of akaitcho and his party, in order to present these to them, and to assure them of the promised reward, as soon as it could possibly be procured. in the afternoon of the 14th, akaitcho, with his whole band came to the fort. he smoked his customary pipe, and made an address to mr. weeks in the hall previous to his coming into the room in which dr. richardson and i were. we discovered at the commencement of his speech to us, that he had been informed that our expected supplies had not come. he spoke of this circumstance as a disappointment, indeed, sufficiently severe to himself, to whom his band looked up for the protection of their interests, but without attaching any blame to us. "the world goes badly," he said, "all are poor; you are poor, the traders appear to be poor, i and my party, are poor likewise; and since the goods have not come in, we cannot have them. i do not regret having supplied you with provisions, for a copper indian can never permit white men to suffer from want of food on his lands, without flying to their aid. i trust, however, that we shall, as you say, receive what is due next autumn; and at all events," he added, in a tone of good-humour, "it is the first time that the white people have been indebted to the copper indians." we assured him the supplies should certainly be sent to him by the autumn, if not before. he then cheerfully received the small present we made to himself; and, although, we could give a few things only to those who had been most active in our service, the others, who, perhaps, thought themselves equally deserving, did not murmur at being left out in the distribution. akaitcho afterwards expressed a strong desire, that we should represent the character of his nation in a favourable light to our countrymen. "i know," he said, "you write down every occurrence in your books; but probably you have only noticed the bad things we have said and done, and have omitted the good." in the course of the desultory conversation which ensued, he said, that he had been always told by us, to consider the traders in the same light as ourselves; and that, for his part, he looked upon both as equally respectable. this assurance, made in the presence of mr. weeks, was particularly gratifying to us, as it completely disproved the defence that had been set up, respecting the injurious reports circulated against us amongst the indians in the spring; namely, that they were in retaliation for our endeavours to lower the traders in the eyes of the indians. i take this opportunity of stating my opinion, that mr. weeks, in spreading these reports, was actuated by a mistaken idea that he was serving the interest of his employers. on the present occasion, we felt indebted to him for the sympathy he displayed for our distresses, and the kindness with which he administered to our personal wants. after this conference, such indians as were indebted to the company were paid for the provision they had given us, by deducting a corresponding sum from their debts; in the same way we gave a reward of sixteen skins of beaver to each of the persons who had come to our relief at fort enterprise. as the debts of akaitcho and his hunters had been effaced at the time of his engagement with us, we placed a sum equal to the amount of provision they had recently supplied, to their credit on the company's books. these things being, through the moderation of the indians, adjusted with an unexpected facility, we gave them a keg of mixed liquors, (five parts water,) and distributed among them several fathoms of tobacco, and they retired to their tents to spend the night in merriment. adam, our interpreter, being desirous of uniting himself with the copper indians, applied to me for his discharge, which i granted, and gave him a bill on the hudson's bay company for the amount of his wages. these arrangements being completed, we prepared to cross the lake. mr. weeks provided dr. richardson and i with a cariole each, and we set out at eleven a.m., on the 15th, for moose-deer island. our party consisted of belanger, who had charge of a sledge laden with the bedding, and drawn by two dogs, our two cariole men, benoit, and augustus. previous to our departure, we had another conference with akaitcho, who, as well as the rest of his party, bade us farewell, with a warmth of manner rare among the indians. the badness of belanger's dogs, and the roughness of the ice, impeded our progress very much, and obliged us to encamp early. we had a good fire made of the drift wood, which lines the shores of this lake in great quantities. the next day was very cold. we began the journey at nine a.m., and encamped at the big cape, having made another short march, in consequence of the roughness of the ice. on the 17th, we encamped on the most southerly of the rein-deer islands. this night was very stormy, but the wind abating in the morning, we proceeded, and by sunset reached the fishing-huts of the company at stony point. here we found mr. andrews, a clerk of the hudson's bay company, who regaled us with a supper of excellent white fish, for which this part of slave lake is particularly celebrated. two men with sledges arrived soon afterwards, sent by mr. mcvicar, who expected us about this time. we set off in the morning before day break, with several companions, and arrived at moose-deer island about one p.m. here we were received with the utmost hospitality by mr. mcvicar, the chief trader of the hudson's bay company in this district, as well as by his assistant mr. mcauley. we had also the happiness of joining our friend, mr. back; our feelings on this occasion can be well imagined, and we were deeply impressed with gratitude to him for his exertions in sending the supply of food to fort enterprise, to which, under divine providence, we felt the preservation of our lives to be owing. he gave us an affecting detail of the proceedings of his party since our separation; the substance of which i shall convey to the reader, by the following extracts from his journal. mr. back's narrative. 1821. october 4. captain franklin having directed me to proceed with st. germain, belanger, and beauparlant, to fort enterprise, in the hope of obtaining relief for the party, i took leave of my companions, and set out on my journey, through a very swampy country, which with the cloudy state of the weather and a keen north-east wind, accompanied by frequent snow showers, retarded us so much, that we scarcely got more than four miles before we halted for the night, and made a meal of _tripe de roche_ and some old leather. on the 5th we set out early, amidst extremely deep snow, sinking frequently in it up to the thighs, a labour in our enfeebled and almost worn out state, that nothing but the cheering hopes of reaching the house and affording relief to our friends, could have enabled us to support. as we advanced we found to our mortification, that the _tripe de roche_, hitherto our sole dependence, began to be scarce, so that we could only collect sufficient to make half a kettleful, which, with the addition of a partridge each, that st. germain had killed, yielded a tolerable meal; during this day i felt very weak and sore in the joints, particularly between the shoulders. at eight we encamped among a small clump of willows. on the 6th we set out at an early hour, pursuing our route over a range of hills at the foot of one of which we saw several large pines, and a great quantity of willows; a sight that encouraged us to quicken our pace, as we were now certain we could not be far from the woods. indeed we were making considerable progress, when belanger unfortunately broke through the ice, and sank up to the hips. the weather being cold, he was in danger of freezing, but some brushwood on the borders of the lake enabled us to make a fire to dry him. at the same time we took the opportunity of refreshing ourselves with a kettle of swamp tea. my increasing debility had for some time obliged me to use a stick for the purpose of extending my arms; the pain in my shoulders being so acute, that i could not bear them to remain in the usual position for two minutes together. we halted at five among some small brushwood, and made a sorry meal of an old pair of leather trowsers, and some swamp tea. the night was cold with a hard frost, and though two persons slept together, yet we could not by any means keep ourselves warm, but remained trembling the whole time. the following morning we crossed several lakes, occasionally seeing the recent tracks of deer, and at noon we fell upon marten lake; it happened to be at the exact spot where we had been the last year with the canoes, yet though i immediately recognised the place, the men would not believe it to be the same; at length, by pointing out several marks, and relating circumstances connected with them, they recovered their memory, and a simultaneous expression of "mon dieu, nous sommes sauvés{53}," broke from the whole. contrary to our expectations the lake was frozen sufficiently to bear us, so that we were excused from making the tours of the different bays. this circumstance seemed to impart fresh vigour to us, and we walked as fast as the extreme smoothness of the ice would permit, intending to reach the slave rock that night; but an unforeseen and almost fatal accident prevented the prosecution of our plan: belanger (who seemed the victim of misfortune) again broke through the ice, in a deep part near the head of the rapid, but was timely saved by our fastening our worsted belts together, and pulling him out. by urging him forwards as quick as his icy garments would admit, to prevent his freezing, we reached a few pines, and kindled a fire; but it was late before he even felt warm, though he was so near the flame as to burn his hair twice; and to add to our distress, (since we could not pursue them,) three wolves crossed the lake close to us. the night of the 7th was extremely stormy, and about ten the following morning, on attempting to go on, we found it totally impossible, being too feeble to oppose the wind and drift, which frequently blew us over, and on attempting to cross a small lake that lay in our way, drove us faster backwards, than with every effort, we could get forwards; we therefore encamped under the shelter of a small clump of pines, secure from the south-west storm that was raging around us. in the evening, there being no _tripe de roche_, we were compelled to satisfy, or rather allay the cravings of hunger, by eating a gun cover and a pair of old shoes; at this time i had scarcely strength to get on my legs. the wind did not in the least abate during the night, but in the morning of the 9th it changed to north-east and became moderate. we took advantage of this circumstance, and rising with great difficulty, set out; though had it not been for the hope of reaching the house, i am certain, from the excessive faintness which almost overpowered me, that i must have remained where i was. we passed the slave rock, and making frequent halts, arrived within a short distance of fort enterprise; but as we perceived neither any marks of indians, nor even of animals, the men began absolutely to despair: on a nearer approach, however, the tracks of large herds of deer, which had only passed a few hours, tended a little to revive their spirits, and shortly after we crossed the ruinous threshold of the long-sought spot; but what was our surprise, what our sensations, at beholding every thing in the most desolate and neglected state; the doors and windows of that room in which we expected to find provision, had been thrown down and the wild animals of the woods had resorted there as to a place of shelter and retreat. mr. wentzel had taken away the trunks and papers, but had left no note to guide us to the indians. this was to us the most grievous disappointment: without the assistance of the indians, bereft of every resource, we felt ourselves reduced to the most miserable state, which was rendered still worse, from the recollection that our friends in the rear were as miserable as{54} ourselves. for the moment, however, hunger prevailed, and each began to gnaw the scraps of putrid and frozen meat that were lying about, without waiting to prepare them. a fire, however, was made, and the neck and bones of a deer, found in the house, were boiled and devoured. i determined to remain a day here to repose; then to go in search of the indians, and in the event of missing them, to proceed to the first trading establishment, which was distant about one hundred and thirty miles, and from thence to send succour to my companions. this indeed i should have done immediately, as the most certain manner of executing my purpose, had there been any probability of the river and lakes being frozen to the southward, or had we possessed sufficient strength to have clambered over the rocks and mountains which impeded the direct way; but as we were aware of our inability to do so, i listened to st. germain's proposal, which was, to follow the deer into the woods, (so long as they did not lead us out of our route to the indians,) and if possible to collect sufficient food to carry us to fort providence. we now set about making mittens and snow shoes, whilst belanger searched under the snow, and collected a mass of old bones, which when burned and used with a little salt we found palatable enough, and made a tolerable meal.{55} at night st. germain returned, having seen plenty of tracks, but no animals; the day was cloudy, with fresh breezes, and the river was frozen at the borders. on the 11th we prepared for our journey, having first collected a few old skins of deer, to serve us as food; and written a note to be left for our commander, to apprize him of our intentions. we pursued the course of the river to the lower lake, when st. germain fell in, which obliged us to encamp directly to prevent his being frozen; indeed we were all glad to rest, for in our meagre and reduced state it was impossible to resist the weather, which at any other time would have been thought fine; my toes were frozen, and although wrapped up in a blanket i could not keep my hands warm. the 12th was excessively cold with fresh breezes. our meal at night consisted of scraps of old deer skins and swamp tea, and the men complained greatly of their increasing debility. the following morning i sent st. germain to hunt, intending to go some distance down the lake, but the weather becoming exceedingly thick with snow storms, we were prevented from moving. he returned without success, not having seen any animals. we had nothing to eat. in the morning of the 14th the part of the lake before us was quite frozen. there was so much uncertainty in st. germain's answers as to the chance of any indians being in the direction we were then going, (although he had previously said that the leader had told him he should be there) and he gave me so much dissatisfaction in his hunting excursions, that i was induced to send a note to the commander, whom i supposed to be by this time at fort enterprise, to inform him of our situation; not that i imagined for a moment he could amend it, but that by all returning to the fort we might, perhaps, have better success in hunting; with this view i despatched belanger, much against his inclination, and told him to return as quickly as possible to a place about four miles further on, where we intended to fish, and to await his arrival. the men were so weak this day, that i could get neither of them to move from the encampment; and it was only necessity that compelled them to cut wood for fuel, in performing which operation beauparlant's face became so dreadfully swelled that he could scarcely see; i myself lost my temper on the most trivial circumstances, and was become very peevish; the day was fine but cold, with a freezing north-east wind. we had nothing to eat. _october 15_.--the night was calm and clear, but it was not before two in the afternoon that we set out; and the one was so weak, and the other so full of complaints, that we did not get more than three-quarters of a mile from our last encampment, before we were obliged to put up; but in this distance we were fortunate enough to kill a partridge, the bones of which were eaten, and the remainder reserved for baits to fish with. we, however, collected sufficient _tripe de roche_ to make a meal: and i anxiously awaited belanger's return, to know what course to take. i was now so much reduced, that my shoulders were as if they would fall from my body, my legs seemed unable to support me, and in the disposition in which i then found myself, had it not been for the remembrance of my friends behind, who relied on me for relief, as well as the persons of whom i had charge, i certainly should have preferred remaining where i was, to the miserable pain of attempting to move. _october 16_.--we waited until two in the afternoon for belanger; but not seeing any thing of him on the lake, we set out, purposing to encamp at the narrows, the place which was said to be so good for fishing, and where, according to st. germain's account, the indians never failed to catch plenty; its distance at most could not be more than two miles. we had not proceeded far before beauparlant began to complain of increasing weakness; but this was so usual with us that no particular notice was taken of it, for in fact there was little difference, all being alike feeble: among other things, he said whilst we were resting, that he should never get beyond the next encampment, for his strength had quite failed him. i endeavoured to encourage him by explaining the mercy of the supreme being, who ever beholds with an eye of pity those that seek his aid. this passed as common discourse, when he inquired where we were to put up; st. germain pointed to a small clump of pines near us, the only place indeed that offered for fuel. "well," replied the poor man, "take your axe mr. back, and i will follow at my leisure, i shall join you by the time the encampment is made." this is a usual practice of the country, and st. germain and myself went on towards the spot; it was five o'clock and not very cold, but rather milder than we had experienced it for some time, when on leaving the ice, we saw a number of crows perched on the top of some high pines near us. st. germain immediately said there must be some dead animal thereabouts, and proceeded to search, when we saw several heads of deer half buried in the snow and ice, without eyes or tongues: the previous severity of the weather having obliged the wolves and other animals to abandon them. an expression of "oh merciful god! we are saved," broke from us both; and with feelings more easily imagined than described, we shook hands, not knowing what to say for joy. it was twilight, and a fog was rapidly darkening the surface of the lake, when st. germain commenced making the encampment; the task was too laborious for me to render him any assistance, and had we not thus providentially found provision, i feel convinced that the next twenty-four hours would have terminated my existence. but this good fortune in some measure renovated me for the moment, and putting out my whole strength i contrived to collect a few heads, and with incredible difficulty carried them singly about thirty paces to the fire. darkness stole on us apace, and i became extremely anxious about beauparlant; several guns were fired, to each of which he answered. we then called out, and again heard his responses though faintly, when i told st. germain to go and look for him, as i had not strength myself, being quite exhausted. he said, that he had already placed a pine branch on the ice, and he could then scarcely find his way back, but if he went now he should certainly be lost. in this situation i could only hope that as beauparlant had my blanket, and every thing requisite to light a fire, he might have encamped at a little distance from us. _october 17_.--the night was cold and clear, but we could not sleep at all, from the pains of having eaten. we suffered the most excruciating torments, though i in particular did not eat a quarter of what would have satisfied me; it might have been from using a quantity of raw or frozen sinews of the legs of deer, which neither of us could avoid doing, so great was our hunger. in the morning, being much agitated for the safety of beauparlant, i desired st. germain to go in search of him, and to return with him as quick as possible, when i would have something prepared for them to eat. it was, however, late when he arrived, with a small bundle which beauparlant was accustomed to carry, and with tears in his eyes, told me that he had found our poor companion dead. dead! i could not believe him. "it is so, sir," said st. germain; "after hallooing and calling his name to no purpose, i went towards our last encampment, about three quarters of a mile, and found him stretched upon his back on a sand bank frozen to death, his limbs all extended and swelled enormously, and as hard as the ice that was near him; his bundle was behind him, as if it had rolled away when he fell, and the blanket which he wore around his neck and shoulders thrown on one side. seeing that there was no longer life in him, i threw your covering over him, and placed his snow-shoes on the top of it." i had not even thought of so serious an occurrence in our little party, and for a short time was obliged to give vent to my grief. left with one person and both of us weak, no appearance of belanger, a likelihood that great calamity had taken place amongst our other companions, still upwards of seventeen days' march from the nearest establishment, and myself unable to carry a burden; all these things pressed heavy on me; and how to get to the indians or to the fort i did not know; but that i might not depress st. germain's spirits, i suppressed the feelings to which these thoughts gave rise, and made some arrangements for the journey to fort providence. _october 18_.--while we were this day occupied in scraping together the remains of some deer's meat, we observed belanger coming round a point apparently scarcely moving. i went to meet him, and made immediate inquiries about my friends. five, with the captain, he said, were at the house, the rest were left near the river, unable to proceed; but he was too weak to relate the whole. he was conducted to the encampment, and paid every attention to, and by degrees we heard the remainder of his tragic tale, at which the interpreter could not avoid crying. he then gave me a letter from my friend the commander, which indeed was truly afflicting. the simple story of belanger i could hear, but when i read it in another language, mingled with the pious resignation of a good man, i could not sustain it any longer. the poor man was much affected at the death of our lamented companion, but his appetite prevailed over every other feeling; and, had i permitted it, he would have done himself an injury; for after two hours' eating, principally skin and sinews, he complained of hunger. the day was cloudy, with snow and fresh breezes from the north-east by east. the last evening, as well as this morning, the 19th, i mentioned my wishes to the men, that we should proceed towards rein-deer lake, but this proposal met with a direct refusal. belanger stated his inability to move, and st. germain used similar language; adding, for the first time, that he did not know the route, and that it was of no use to go in the direction i mentioned, which was the one agreed upon between the commander and myself. i then insisted that we should go by the known route, and join the commander, but they would not hear of it; they would remain where they were until they had regained their strength; they said{56} i wanted to expose them again to death (_faire perir_). in vain did i use every argument to the contrary, for they were equally heedless to all. thus situated i was compelled to remain; and from this time to the 25th we employed ourselves in looking about for the remnants of the deer and pieces of skin, which even the wolves had left; and by pounding the bones, we were enabled to make a sort of soup, which strengthened us greatly, though each still complained of weakness. it was not without the greatest difficulty that i could restrain the men from eating every scrap they found, though they were well aware of the necessity there was of being economical in our present situation, and to save whatever they could for our journey; yet they could not resist the temptation, and whenever my back was turned they seldom failed to snatch at the nearest piece to them, whether cooked or raw. we had set fishing-lines, but without any success; and we often saw large herds of deer crossing the lake at full speed, and wolves pursuing them. the night of the 25th was cold with hard frost. early the next morning i sent the men to cover the body of our departed companion beauparlant with the trunks and branches of trees, which they did; and shortly after their return i opened his bundle, and found it contained two papers of vermilion, several strings of beads, some fire-steels, flints, awls, fish-hooks, rings, linen, and the glass of an artificial horizon. my two men began to recover a little as well as myself, though i was by far the weakest of the three; the soles of my feet were cracked all over, and the other parts were as hard as horn, from constant walking. i again urged the necessity of advancing to join the commander's party, but they said, they were not sufficiently strong. on the 27th we discovered the remains of a deer, on which we feasted. the night was unusually cold, and ice formed in a pint-pot within two feet of the fire. the coruscations of the aurora were beautifully brilliant; they served to shew us eight wolves, which we had some trouble to frighten away from our collection of deer's bones; and, between their howling and the constant cracking of the ice, we did not get much rest. having collected with great care, and by self-denial, two small packets of dried meat or sinews, sufficient (for men who knew what it was to fast) to last for eight days, at the rate of one indifferent meal per day, we prepared to set out on the 30th. i calculated that we should be about fourteen days in reaching fort providence; and allowing that we neither killed deer nor found indians, we could but be unprovided with food six days, and this we heeded not whilst the prospect of obtaining full relief was before us. accordingly we set out against a keen north-east wind, in order to gain the known route to fort providence. we saw a number of wolves and some crows on the middle of the lake, and supposing such an assembly was not met idly, we made for them and came in for a share of a deer which they had killed a short time before, and thus added a couple of meals to our stock. by four p.m. we gained the head of the lake, or the direct road to fort providence, and some dry wood being at hand, we encamped; by accident it was the same place where the commander's party had slept on the 19th, the day on which i supposed they had left fort enterprise; but the encampment was so small, that we feared great mortality had taken place amongst them; and i am sorry to say the stubborn resolution of my men, not to go to the house, prevented me from determining this most anxious point, so that i now almost dreaded passing their encampments, lest i should see some of our unfortunate friends dead at each spot. our fire was hardly kindled when a fine herd of deer passed close to us. st. germain pursued them a short distance, but with his usual want of success, so that we made a meal off the muscles and sinews we had dried, though they were so tough that we could scarcely{57} cut them. my hands were benumbed throughout the march, and we were all stiff and fatigued. the marching of two days weakened us all very much, and the more so on account of our exertion to follow the tracks of our commander's party; but we lost them, and concluded that they were not before us. though the weather was not cold, i was frozen in the face and was so reduced and affected by these constant calamities, as well in mind as in body, that i found much difficulty in proceeding even with the advantages i had enjoyed. _november 3_.--we set out before day, though, in fact, we were all much fitter to remain, from the excessive pain which we suffered in our joints, and proceeded till one p.m., without halting, when belanger, who was before, stopped, and cried out, "footsteps of indians." it is needless to mention the joy that brightened the countenances of each at this unlooked-for sight; we knew relief must be at hand, and considered our sufferings at an end. st. germain inspected the tracks, and said that three persons had passed the day before; and that he knew the remainder must be advancing to the southward, as was customary with these indians, when they sent to the trading establishment on the first ice. on this information we encamped, and being too weak to walk myself, i sent st. germain to follow the tracks, with instructions to the chief of the indians to provide immediate assistance for such of our friends as might be at fort enterprise, as well as for ourselves, and to lose no time in returning to me. i was now so exhausted, that had we not seen the tracks this day, i must have remained at the next encampment, until the men could have sent aid from fort providence. we had finished our small portion of sinews, and were preparing for rest, when an indian boy made his appearance with meat. st. germain had arrived before sunset at the tents of akaitcho, whom he found at the spot where he had wintered last year; but imagine my surprise when he gave me a note from the commander, and said that benoit and augustus, two of the men, had just joined them. the note was so confused, by the pencil marks being partly rubbed out, that i could not decipher it clearly; but it informed me, that he had attempted to come with the two men, but finding his strength inadequate to the task, he relinquished his design, and returned to fort enterprise, to await relief with the others. there was another note for the gentleman in charge of fort providence, desiring him to send meat, blankets, shoes, and tobacco. akaitcho wished me to join him on the ensuing day, at a place which the boy knew, where they were going to fish; and i was the more anxious to do so, on account of my companions: but particularly that i might hear a full relation of what had happened, and of the commander's true situation, which i suspected to be much worse than he had described. in the afternoon i joined the indians, and repeated to akaitcho what st. germain had told him; he seemed much affected, and said, he would have sent relief directly, though i had not been there; indeed, his conduct was generous and humane. the next morning, at an early hour, three indians, with loaded sledges of meat, skins, shoes, and a blanket, set out for fort enterprise; one of them was to return directly with an answer from captain franklin, to whom i wrote; but in the event of his death, he was to bring away all the papers he could find; and he promised to travel with such haste, as to be able to return to us on the fourth day. i was now somewhat more at ease, having done all in my power to succour my unfortunate companions; but was very anxious for the return of the messenger. the indians brought me meat in small quantities, though sufficient for our daily consumption; and, as we had a little ammunition, many were paid on the spot for what they gave. on the 9th i had the satisfaction of seeing the indian arrive from fort enterprise. at first he said they were all dead, but shortly after he gave me a note, which was from the commander, and then i learned all the fatal particulars which had befallen them. i now proposed that the chief should immediately send three sledges, loaded with meat, to fort enterprise, should make a _cache_ of provision at our present encampment, and also, that he should here await the arrival of the commander. by noon two large trains, laden with meat, were sent off for fort enterprise. the next day we proceeded on our journey, and arrived at fort providence on the 21st of november. _conclusion of mr. back's narrative._ * * * * * i have little now to add to the melancholy detail into which i felt it proper to enter; but i cannot omit to state, that the unremitting care and attentions of our kind friends, mr. mcvicar and mr. mcauley, united with our improved diet, to promote to the restoration of our health; so that, by the end of february, the swellings of our limbs, which had returned upon us, entirely subsided, and we were able to walk to any part of the island. our appetites gradually moderated, and we nearly regained our ordinary state of body before the spring. hepburn alone suffered from a severe attack of rheumatism, which confined him to his bed for some weeks. the usual symptoms of spring having appeared, on the 25th of may we prepared to embark for fort chipewyan. fortunately, on the following morning, a canoe arrived from that place with the whole of the stores which we required for the payment of akaitcho and the hunters. it was extremely gratifying to us to be thus enabled, previous to our departure, to make arrangements respecting the requital of our late indian companions; and the more so, as we had recently discovered that akaitcho, and the whole of his tribe, in consequence of the death of the leader's mother, and the wife of our old guide keskarrah, had broken and destroyed every useful article belonging to them, and were in the greatest distress. it was an additional pleasure to find our stock of ammunition more than sufficient to pay them what was due, and that we could make a considerable present of this most essential article to every individual that had been attached to the expedition. we quitted moose-deer island at five p.m., on the 26th, accompanied by mr. mcvicar, and mr. mcauley, and nearly all the voyagers at the establishment, having resided there about five months, not a day of which had passed without our having cause of gratitude, for the kind and unvaried attentions of mr. mcvicar and mr. mcauley. these gentlemen accompanied us as far as fort chipewyan, where we arrived on the 2d of june; here we met mr. wentzel, and the four men, who had been sent with him from the mouth of the copper-mine river; and i think it due to that gentleman, to give his own explanation of the unfortunate circumstances which prevented him from fulfilling my instructions, respecting the provisions to have been left for us at fort enterprise[16]. [16] "after you sent me back from the mouth of the copper-mine river, and i had overtaken the leader, guides, and hunters, on the fifth day, leaving the sea-coast, as well as our journey up the river, they always expressed the same desire of fulfilling their promises, although somewhat dissatisfied at being exposed to privation while on our return, from a scarcity of animals; for, as i have already stated in my first communication from moose-deer island, we had been eleven days with no other food but _tripe de roche_. in the course of this time an indian, with his wife and child, who were travelling in company with us, were left in the rear, and are since supposed to have perished through want, as no intelligence had been received of them at fort providence in december last. on the seventh day after i had joined the leader, &c. &c., and journeying on together, all the indians, excepting petit pied and bald-head, left me to seek their families, and crossed point lake at the crow's nest, where humpy had promised to meet his brother ekehcho[16a] with the families, but did not fulfil, nor did any of my party of indians know where to find them; for we had frequently made fires to apprize them of our approach, yet none appeared in return as answers. this disappointment, as might be expected, served to increase the ill-humour of the leader and party, the brooding of which (agreeably to indian custom) was liberally discharged on me, in bitter reproach for having led them from their families, and exposed them to dangers and hardships, which but for my influence, they said, they might have spared themselves. nevertheless, they still continued to profess the sincerest desire of meeting your wishes in making _caches_ of provisions, and remaining until a late season on the road that leads from fort enterprise to fort providence, through which the expedition-men had travelled so often the year before--remarking, however, at the same time, that they had not the least hopes of ever seeing one person return from the expedition. these alarming fears i never could persuade them to dismiss from their minds; they always sneered at what they called 'my credulity.'--'if,' said the gros pied[16b], 'the great chief (meaning captain franklin), or any of his party, should pass at my tents, he or they shall be welcome to all my provisions, or any thing else that i may have.' and i am sincerely happy to understand, by your communication, that in this he had kept his word--in sending you with such promptitude and liberality the assistance your truly dreadful situation required. but the party of indians, on whom i had placed the utmost confidence and dependance, was humpy and the white capot guide, with their sons, and several of the discharged hunters from the expedition. this party was well-disposed, and readily promised to collect provisions for the possible return of the expedition, provided they could get a supply of ammunition from fort providence; for when i came up with them they were actually starving, and converting old axes into ball, having no other substitute--this was unlucky. yet they were well inclined, and i expected to find means at fort providence to send them a supply, in which i was, however, disappointed, for i found that establishment quite destitute of necessaries; and then, shortly after i had left them, they had the misfortune of losing three of their hunters, who were drowned in marten lake: this accident was, of all others, the most fatal that could have happened--a truth which no one, who has the least knowledge of the indian character, will deny; and as they were nearly connected by relationship to the leader, humpy, and white capot guide, the three leading men of this part of the copper indian tribe, it had the effect of unhinging (if i may use the expression) the minds of all these families, and finally destroying all the fond hopes i had so sanguinely conceived of their assisting the expedition, should it come back by the anna-dessé river, of which they were not certain. [16a] akaitcho the leader. [16b] also akaitcho. "as to my not leaving a letter at fort enterprise, it was because, by some mischance, you had forgot to give me paper when we parted[16c]. [16c] i certainly offered mr. wentzel some paper when he quitted us, but he declined it, having then a note-book; and mr. back gave him a pencil. "i, however, wrote this news on a plank, in pencil, and placed it in the top of your former bedstead, where i left it. since it has not been found there, some indians must have gone to the house after my departure, and destroyed it. these details, sir, i have been induced to enter into (rather unexpectedly) in justification of myself, and hope it will be satisfactory." in a subsequent conversation he stated to me, that the two indians, who were actually with him at fort enterprise, whilst he remained there altering his canoe, were prevented from hunting; one by an accidental lameness, the other by the fear of meeting alone some of the dog-rib indians. we were here furnished with a canoe by mr. smith, and a bowman, to act as our guide; and having left fort chipewyan on the 5th, we arrived, on the 4th of july, at norway house. finding at this place, that canoes were about to go down to montreal, i gave all our canadian voyagers their discharges, and sent them by those vessels, furnishing them with orders on the agent of the hudson's bay company, for the amount of their wages. we carried augustus down to york factory, where we arrived on the 14th of july, and were received with every mark of attention and kindness by mr. simpson, the governor, mr. mctavish, and, indeed, by all the officers of the united companies. and thus terminated our long, fatiguing, and disastrous travels in north america, having journeyed by water and by land (including our navigation of the polar sea,) five thousand five hundred and fifty miles. the end. [illustration: route from york factory] [illustration: route from isle à la crosse] [illustration: route from slave lake] * * * * * london: printed by william clowes, northumberland-court. * * * * * transcriber's corrections and comments: 1. original had "throngh"; corrected to "through". 2. assume -45° 5' means -45.5°, but possibly this could also be -45-5/60° 3. original had "phenemenon"; corrected to "phenomenon". 4. the context of soap making indicates that "ley" is most likely a misprint for "lye". 5. original had "holyday"; corrected to "holiday" (as in 2nd edition). 6. original list order was "m., l."; changed to "l., m." for consistency. 7. original list order was "s., r."; changed to "r., s." for consistency. 8. original had "storehouse"; changed to "store-house" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 9. original had "an"; corrected to "at". 10. original had "mcaulay"; changed to "mcauley" to be consisten with other occurrences in the text. 11. added comma missing after "tobacco" in original. 12. original had "determine"; corrected to "determined". 13. original had "considerally"; corrected to "considerably" (as in 2nd edition). 14. original had comma after "him"; corrected to period. 15. original had period after "impossible"; corrected to comma. 16. added "a" missing before "medal" in original. 17. assume "akaiyazzeh" is the same as "akaiyazza" in chapter viii. 18. original had "instructions"; corrected to "instructions". 19. original had "et"; corrected to "set". 20. original had "june", which doesn't fit into the sequence; corrected to "july". 21. original had "good-nature" at line break; corrected to "good nature". 22. original had "looses and"; corrected to "loose sand". 23. original had "june", which doesn't fit into the sequence; corrected to "july". 24. original had "this"; corrected to "his". 25. original had "tattoed"; corrected to "tattooed". 26. original had "her and"; corrected to "her". 27. added period missing after "house" in original. 28. added comma missing after "being" in original. 29. original had "easernmost"; corrected to "easternmost". 30. added period missing after "academy" in original. 31. original had "blackmeat"; changed to "black-meat" to be consistent with other occurrences in this text and in the first volume. 32. alternative spellings for "thlueetessy" in the first volume are "thlouee-tessy" and "thloueea-tessy". 33. original had "tha"; corrected to "that". 34. original had "slate-clay"; changed to "slate-clay" to be consistent with occurrence in chapter xi. 35. original had "sandstone"; changed to "sand-stone" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 36. original had "philanthrophist"; corrected to "philanthropist". 37. original had "brush-wood"; changed to "brushwood" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 38. original had "port-folio"; changed to "portfolio" to be consistent with spelling in footnote 6 in chapter x. 39. original had "daybreak"; changed to "day-break" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 40. original had "amongt"; corrected to "amongst". 41. original had "rein-deer"; changed to "rein-deer" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 42. original had "signed"; corrected to "singed". 43. original had "goiug"; corrected to "going". 44. original had superfluous comma after "companions"; deleted. 45. added comma missing in original after "hunting". 46. original had "firewood"; changed to "fire-wood" to be consistent with other occurrences in the text. 47. original had "morrrow"; corrected to "morrow". 48. added word "be" missing in phrase "used to considered" in original. 49. original had "semandrè"; corrected this and all further instances to "samandrè" to be consistent with the spelling used earlier in this text and in the first volume. 50. original had "w"; corrected to "we". 51. original had "combatted"; corrected to "combated" (as in 2nd edition and elsewhere in the text). 52. original had "exited"; corrected to "excited". 53. original had "sauvès"; corrected to "sauvés". 54. superfluous "as" in original; deleted. 55. added period missing after "meal" in original. 56. original had superfluous comma after "said"; deleted. 57. original had "scacrely"; corrected to "scarcely". [illustration: but now he heard a voice above him. it was her voice see page 353 ] northern lights by gilbert parker illustrated harper & brothers publishers new york and london mcmix books by gilbert parker northern lights. illustrated post 8vo $1.50 the weavers. illustrated post 8vo 1.50 the right of way. illustrated post 8vo 1.50 a ladder of swords. illustrated post 8vo 1.50 pierre and his people. mrs. falchion. the trespasser. the translation of a savage. the trail of the sword. when valmond came to pontiac. an adventurer of the north. the seats of the mighty. the pomp of the lavilettes. the battle of the strong. the lane that had no turning. donovan pasha. old quebec (in collaboration with c. g. bryan). round the compass in australia. a lover's diary. embers (private publication only). copyright, 1909, by harper & brothers. all rights reserved. published september, 1909. to ishbel, countess of aberdeen a true friend of the great dominion note the tales in this book belong to two different epochs in the life of the far west. the first five are reminiscent of "border days and deeds"--of days before the great railway was built which changed a waste into a fertile field of civilization. the remaining stories cover the period passed since the royal northwest mounted police and the pullman car first startled the early pioneer, and sent him into the land of the farther north or drew him into the quiet circle of civic routine and humdrum occupation. g. p. contents chapter page a lodge in the wilderness 1 once at red man's river 21 the stroke of the hour 38 buckmaster's boy 57 to-morrow 72 qu'appelle 94 the stake and the plumb-line 118 when the swallows homeward fly 160 george's wife 174 marcile 196 a man, a famine, and a heathen boy 216 the healing springs and the pioneers 234 the little widow of jansen 253 watching the rise of orion 272 the error of the day 295 the whisperer 314 as deep as the sea 334 illustrations page but now he heard a voice above him. it was her voice frontispiece the bird she heard in the night was calling in his ears now 14 the start on the north trail 36 she swayed and fell fainting at the feet of ba'tiste 56 little by little they drew to the edge of the rock 70 "they shot me an' hurt me" 74 "pauline," he said, feebly, and fainted in her arms 114 the old man shook his head. though not with understanding 166 george's wife 184 then had happened the real event of his life 198 the faith healer 236 "as purty a woman, too--as purty and as straight bewhiles" 256 "if you kill me, you will never get away from kowatin alive" 312 for minutes the struggle continued 332 "oh, isn't it all worth living?" she said 342 northern lights a lodge in the wilderness "hai-yai, so bright a day, so clear!" said mitiahwe as she entered the big lodge and laid upon a wide, low couch, covered with soft skins, the fur of a grizzly which had fallen to her man's rifle. "_hai-yai_, i wish it would last forever--so sweet!" she added, smoothing the fur lingeringly and showing her teeth in a smile. "there will come a great storm, mitiahwe. see, the birds go south so soon," responded a deep voice from a corner by the doorway. the young indian wife turned quickly, and, in a defiant, fantastic mood--or was it the inward cry against an impending fate, the tragic future of those who will not see, because to see is to suffer?--she made some quaint, odd motions of the body which belonged to a mysterious dance of her tribe, and, with flashing eyes, challenged the comely old woman seated on a pile of deer-skins. "it is morning, and the day will last forever," she said, nonchalantly, but her eyes suddenly took on a far-away look, half apprehensive, half wondering. the birds were indeed going south very soon, yet had there ever been so exquisite an autumn as this, had her man ever had so wonderful a trade, her man with the brown hair, blue eyes, and fair, strong face? "the birds go south, but the hunters and buffalo still go north," mitiahwe urged, searchingly, looking hard at her mother--oanita, the swift wing. "my dream said that the winter will be dark and lonely, that the ice will be thick, the snow deep, and that many hearts will be sick because of the black days and the hunger that sickens the heart," answered swift wing. mitiahwe looked into swift wing's dark eyes, and an anger came upon her. "the hearts of cowards will freeze," she rejoined, "and to those that will not see the sun the world will be dark," she added. then suddenly she remembered to whom she was speaking, and a flood of feeling ran through her; for swift wing had cherished her like a fledgling in the nest till her young white man came from "down east." her heart had leaped up at sight of him, and she had turned to him from all the young men of her tribe, waiting in a kind of mist till he, at last, had spoken to her mother, and then one evening, her shawl over her head, she had come along to his lodge. a thousand times as the four years passed by she had thought how good it was that she had become his wife--the young white man's wife, rather than the wife of breaking rock, son of white buffalo, the chief, who had four hundred horses and a face that would have made winter and sour days for her. now and then breaking rock came and stood before the lodge, a distance off, and stayed there hour after hour, and once or twice he came when her man was with her; but nothing could be done, for earth and air and space were common to them all, and there was no offence in breaking rock gazing at the lodge where mitiahwe lived. yet it seemed as though breaking rock was waiting--waiting and hoping. that was the impression made upon all who saw him, and even old white buffalo, the chief, shook his head gloomily when he saw breaking rock, his son, staring at the big lodge which was so full of happiness, and so full also of many luxuries never before seen at a trading-post on the koonee river. the father of mitiahwe had been chief, but because his three sons had been killed in battle the chieftainship had come to white buffalo, who was of the same blood and family. there were those who said that mitiahwe should have been chieftainess; but neither she nor her mother would ever listen to this, and so white buffalo and the tribe loved mitiahwe because of her modesty and goodness. she was even more to white buffalo than breaking rock, and he had been glad that dingan the white man--long hand he was called--had taken mitiahwe for his woman. yet behind this gladness of white buffalo, and that of swift wing, and behind the silent watchfulness of breaking rock, there was a thought which must ever come when a white man mates with an indian maid, without priest or preacher, or writing, or book, or bond. yet four years had gone; and all the tribe, and all who came and went, half-breeds, traders, and other tribes, remarked how happy was the white man with his indian wife. they never saw anything but light in the eyes of mitiahwe, nor did the old women of the tribe who scanned her face as she came and went, and watched and waited too for what never came--not even after four years. mitiahwe had been so happy that she had not really missed what never came; though the desire to have something in her arms which was part of them both had flushed up in her veins at times, and made her restless till her man had come home again. then she had forgotten the unseen for the seen, and was happy that they two were alone together--that was the joy of it all, so much alone together; for swift wing did not live with them, and, like breaking rock, she watched her daughter's life, standing afar off, since it was the unwritten law of the tribe that the wife's mother must not cross the path or enter the home of her daughter's husband. but at last dingan had broken through this custom, and insisted that swift wing should be with her daughter when he was away from home, as now on this wonderful autumn morning, when mitiahwe had been singing to the sun, to which she prayed for her man and for everlasting days with him. she had spoken angrily but now, because her soul sharply resented the challenge to her happiness which her mother had been making. it was her own eyes that refused to see the cloud which the sage and bereaved woman had seen and conveyed in images and figures of speech natural to the indian mind. "_hai-yai_," she said now, with a strange, touching sigh breathing in the words, "you are right, my mother, and a dream is a dream; also, if it be dreamed three times, then is it to be followed, and it is true. you have lived long, and your dreams are of the sun and the spirit." she shook a little as she laid her hand on a buckskin coat of her man hanging by the lodge door; then she steadied herself again, and gazed earnestly into her mother's eyes. "have all your dreams come true, my mother?" she asked, with a hungering heart. "there was the dream that came out of the dark five times, when your father went against the crees, and was wounded, and crawled away into the hills, and all our warriors fled--they were but a handful, and the crees like a young forest in number! i went with my dream, and found him after many days, and it was after that you were born, my youngest and my last. there was also"--her eyes almost closed, and the needle and thread she held lay still in her lap--"when two of your brothers were killed in the drive of the buffalo. did i not see it all in my dream, and follow after them to take them to my heart? and when your sister was carried off, was it not my dream which saw the trail, so that we brought her back again to die in peace, her eyes seeing the lodge whither she was going, open to her, and the sun, the father, giving her light and promise--for she had wounded herself to die that the thief who stole her should leave her to herself! behold, my daughter, these dreams have i had, and others; and i have lived long and have seen the bright day break into storm, and the herds flee into the far hills where none could follow, and hunger come, and--" "_hai-yo_, see, the birds flying south," said the girl, with a gesture toward the cloudless sky. "never since i lived have they gone south so soon." again she shuddered slightly, then she spoke slowly: "i also have dreamed, and i will follow my dream. i dreamed"--she knelt down beside her mother and rested her hands in her mother's lap--"i dreamed that there was a wall of hills dark and heavy and far away, and that whenever my eyes looked at them they burned with tears; and yet i looked and looked, till my heart was like lead in my breast; and i turned from them to the rivers and the plains that i loved. but a voice kept calling to me, 'come, come! beyond the hills is a happy land. the trail is hard, and your feet will bleed, but beyond is the happy land.' and i would not go for the voice that spoke, and at last there came an old man in my dream and spoke to me kindly, and said, 'come with me, and i will show thee the way over the hills to the lodge where thou shalt find what thou hast lost!' and i said to him, 'i have lost nothing'; and i would not go. twice i dreamed this dream, and twice the old man came, and three times i dreamed it; and then i spoke angrily to him, as but now i did to thee; and behold he changed before my eyes, and i saw that he was now become--" she stopped short, and buried her face in her hands for a moment, then recovered herself. "breaking rock it was i saw before me, and i cried out and fled. then i waked with a cry, but my man was beside me, and his arm was round my neck; and this dream, is it not a foolish dream, my mother?" the old woman sat silent, clasping the hands of her daughter firmly, and looking out of the wide doorway toward the trees that fringed the river; and presently, as she looked, her face changed and grew pinched all at once, and mitiahwe, looking at her, turned a startled face toward the river also. "breaking rock!" she said, in alarm, and got to her feet quickly. breaking rock stood for a moment looking toward the lodge, then came slowly forward to them. never in all the four years had he approached this lodge of mitiahwe, who, the daughter of a chief, should have married himself, the son of a chief! slowly, but with long, slouching stride, breaking rock came nearer. the two women watched him without speaking. instinctively they knew that he brought news, that something had happened; yet mitiahwe felt at her belt for what no indian girl would be without; and this one was a gift from her man on the anniversary of the day she first came to his lodge. breaking rock was at the door now, his beady eyes fixed on mitiahwe's, his figure jerked to its full height, which made him, even then, two inches less than long hand. he spoke in a loud voice: "the last boat this year goes down the river to-morrow. long hand, your man, is going to his people. he will not come back. he has had enough of the blackfoot woman. you will see him no more." he waved a hand to the sky. "the birds are going south. a hard winter is coming quick. you will be alone. breaking rock is rich. he has five hundred horses. your man is going to his own people. let him go. he is no man. it is four years, and still there are but two in your lodge. how!" he swung on his heel with a chuckle in his throat, for he thought he had said a good thing, and that in truth he was worth twenty white men. his quick ear caught a movement behind him, however, and he saw the girl spring from the lodge-door, something flashing from her belt. but now the mother's arms were round her, with cries of protest, and breaking rock, with another laugh, slipped away softly toward the river. "that is good," he muttered. "she will kill him, perhaps, when she goes to him. she will go, but he will not stay. i have heard." as he disappeared among the trees, mitiahwe disengaged herself from her mother's arms, went slowly back into the lodge, and sat down on the great couch where for so many moons she had lain with her man beside her. her mother watched her closely, though she moved about doing little things. she was trying to think what she would have done if such a thing had happened to her, if her man had been going to leave her. she assumed that dingan would leave mitiahwe, for he would hear the voices of his people calling far away, even as the red man who went east into the great cities heard the prairies and the mountains and the rivers and his own people calling, and came back, and put off the clothes of civilization, and donned his buckskins again, and sat in the medicine man's tent, and heard the spirits speak to him through the mist and smoke of the sacred fire. when swift wing first gave her daughter to the white man she foresaw the danger now at hand, but this was the tribute of the lower race to the higher, and--who could tell? white men had left their indian wives, but had come back again, and forever renounced the life of their own nations, and become great chiefs, teaching useful things to their adopted people, bringing up their children as tribesmen--bringing up their children! there it was, the thing which called them back, the bright-eyed children, with the color of the brown prairie in their faces, and their brains so sharp and strong. but here was no child to call dingan back, only the eloquent, brave, sweet face of mitiahwe..... if he went! would he go? was he going? and now that mitiahwe had been told that he would go, what would she do? in her belt was--but, no, that would be worse than all, and she would lose mitiahwe, her last child, as she had lost so many others. what would she herself do if she were in mitiahwe's place? ah, she would make him stay somehow--by truth or by falsehood; by the whispered story in the long night; by her head upon his knee before the lodge-fire, and her eyes fixed on his, luring him, as the dream lures the dreamer into the far trail, to find the sun's hunting-ground, where the plains are filled with the deer and the buffalo and the wild horse; by the smell of the cooking-pot and the favorite spiced drink in the morning; by the child that ran to him with his bow and arrows and the cry of the hunter--but there was no child; she had forgotten. she was always recalling her own happy early life with her man, and the clean-faced papooses that crowded round his knee--one wife and many children, and the old harvester of the years reaping them so fast, till the children stood up as tall as their father and chief. that was long ago, and she had had her share--twenty-five years of happiness; but mitiahwe had had only four. she looked at mitiahwe, standing still for a moment like one rapt, then suddenly she gave a little cry. something had come into her mind, some solution of the problem, and she ran and stooped over the girl and put both hands on her head. "mitiahwe, heart's blood of mine," she said, "the birds go south, but they return. what matter if they go so soon, if they return soon. if the sun wills that the winter be dark, and he sends the coldmaker to close the rivers and drive the wild ones far from the arrow and the gun, yet he may be sorry, and send a second summer--has it not been so, and the coldmaker has hurried away--away! the birds go south, but they will return, mitiahwe." "i heard a cry in the night while my man slept," mitiahwe answered, looking straight before her, "and it was like the cry of a bird--calling, calling, calling." "but he did not hear--he was asleep beside mitiahwe. if he did not wake, surely it was good-luck. thy breath upon his face kept him sleeping. surely it was good-luck to mitiahwe that he did not hear." she was smiling a little now, for she had thought of a thing which would, perhaps, keep the man here in this lodge in the wilderness; but the time to speak of it was not yet. she must wait and see. suddenly mitiahwe got to her feet with a spring, and a light in her eyes. "_hai-yai!_" she said with plaintive smiling, ran to a corner of the lodge, and from a leather bag drew forth a horseshoe and looked at it, murmuring to herself. the old woman gazed at her wonderingly. "what is it, mitiahwe?" she asked. "it is good-luck. so my man has said. it is the way of his people. it is put over the door, and if a dream come it is a good dream; and if a bad thing come, it will not enter; and if the heart prays for a thing hid from all the world, then it brings good-luck. _hai-yai!_ i will put it over the door, and then--" all at once her hand dropped to her side, as though some terrible thought had come to her, and, sinking to the floor, she rocked her body backward and forward for a time, sobbing. but presently she got to her feet again, and, going to the door of the lodge, fastened the horseshoe above it with a great needle and a string of buckskin. "o great sun," she prayed, "have pity on me and save me. i cannot live alone. i am only a blackfoot wife; i am not blood of his blood. give, o great one, blood of his blood, bone of his bone, soul of his soul, that he will say, 'this is mine, body of my body,' and he will hear the cry and will stay. o great sun, pity me!" the old woman's heart beat faster as she listened. the same thought was in the mind of both. if there were but a child, bone of his bone, then perhaps he would not go; or, if he went, then surely he would return when he heard his papoose calling in the lodge in the wilderness. as mitiahwe turned to her, a strange burning light in her eyes, swift wing said: "it is good. the white man's medicine for a white man's wife. but if there were the red man's medicine too--" "what is the red man's medicine?" asked the young wife, as she smoothed her hair, put a string of bright beads around her neck, and wound a red sash round her waist. the old woman shook her head, a curious, half-mystic light in her eyes, her body drawn up to its full height, as though waiting for something. "it is an old medicine. it is of winters ago as many as the hairs of the head. i have forgotten almost, but it was a great medicine when there were no white men in the land. and so it was that to every woman's breast there hung a papoose, and every woman had her man, and the red men were like leaves in the forest--but it was a winter of winters ago, and the medicine men have forgotten; and thou hast no child! when long hand comes, what will mitiahwe say to him?" mitiahwe's eyes were determined, her face was set, she flushed deeply, then the color fled. "what my mother would say, i will say. shall the white man's medicine fail? if i wish it, then it will be so; and i will say so." "but if the white man's medicine fail?" swift wing made a gesture toward the door where the horseshoe hung. "it is medicine for a white man, will it be medicine for an indian?" "am i not a white man's wife?" "but if there were the sun medicine also, the medicine of the days long ago?" "tell me. if you remember--_kai!_ but you do remember--i see it in your face. tell me, and i will make that medicine also, my mother." "to-morrow, if i remember it--i will think, and if i remember it, to-morrow i will tell you, my heart's blood. maybe my dream will come to me and tell me. then, even after all these years a papoose--" "but the boat will go at dawn to-morrow, and if he go also--" "mitiahwe is young, her body is warm, her eyes are bright, the songs she sings, her tongue--if these keep him not, and the voice calls him still to go, then still mitiahwe shall whisper, and tell him--" "_hai-yo_--hush," said the girl, and trembled a little, and put both hands on her mother's mouth. for a moment she stood so, then with an exclamation suddenly turned and ran through the doorway, and sped toward the river, and into the path which would take her to the post, where her man traded with the indians and had made much money during the past six years, so that he could have had a thousand horses and ten lodges like that she had just left. the distance between the lodge and the post was no more than a mile, but mitiahwe made a dã©tour, and approached it from behind, where she could not be seen. darkness was gathering now, and she could see the glimmer of the light of lamps through the windows, and as the doors opened and shut. no one had seen her approach, and she stole through a door which was open at the rear of the warehousing room, and went quickly to another door leading into the shop. there was a crack through which she could see, and she could hear all that was said. as she came she had seen indians gliding through the woods with their purchases, and now the shop was clearing fast, in response to the urging of dingan and his partner, a scotch half-breed. it was evident that dingan was at once abstracted and excited. presently only two visitors were left--a french half-breed called lablache, a swaggering, vicious fellow, and the captain of the steamer _ste. anne_, which was to make its last trip south in the morning--even now it would have to break its way through the young ice. dingan's partner dropped a bar across the door of the shop, and the four men gathered about the fire. for a time no one spoke. at last the captain of the _ste. anne_ said: "it's a great chance, dingan. you'll be in civilization again, and in a rising town of white people--groise'll be a city in five years, and you can grow up and grow rich with the place. the company asked me to lay it all before you, and lablache here will buy out your share of the business, at whatever your partner and you prove it's worth. you're young; you've got everything before you. you've made a name out here for being the best trader west of the great lakes, and now's your time. it's none of my affair, of course, but i like to carry through what i'm set to do, and the company said, 'you bring dingan back with you. the place is waiting for him, and it can't wait longer than the last boat down.' you're ready to step in when he steps out, ain't you, lablache?" lablache shook back his long hair, and rolled about in his pride. "i give him cash for his share to-night--some one is behin' me, _sacrã©_, yes! it is worth so much, i pay and step in--i take the place over. i take half the business here, and i work with dingan's partner. i take your horses, dingan, i take your lodge, i take all in your lodge--_everyt'ing_." his eyes glistened, and a red spot came to each cheek as he leaned forward. at his last word dingan, who had been standing abstractedly listening as it were, swung round on him with a muttered oath, and the skin of his face appeared to tighten. watching through the crack of the door, mitiahwe saw the look she knew well, though it had never been turned on her, and her heart beat faster. it was a look that came into dingan's face whenever breaking rock crossed his path, or when one or two other names were mentioned in his presence, for they were names of men who had spoken of mitiahwe lightly, and had attempted to be jocular about her. as mitiahwe looked at him, now unknown to himself, she was conscious of what that last word of lablache's meant. _everyt'ing_ meant herself. lablache--who had neither the good qualities of the white man nor the indian, but who had the brains of the one and the subtlety of the other, and whose only virtue was that he was a successful trader, though he looked like a mere woodsman, with rings in his ears, gayly decorated buckskin coat and moccasins, and a furtive smile always on his lips! _everyt'ing!_ her blood ran cold at the thought of dropping the lodge-curtain upon this man and herself alone. for no other man than dingan had her blood run faster, and he had made her life blossom. she had seen in many a half-breed's and in many an indian's face the look which was now in that of lablache, and her fingers gripped softly the thing in her belt that had flashed out on breaking rock such a short while ago. as she looked, it seemed for a moment as though dingan would open the door and throw lablache out, for in quick reflection his eyes ran from the man to the wooden bar across the door. "you'll talk of the shop, and the shop only, lablache," he said, grimly. "i'm not huckstering my home, and i'd choose the buyer if i was selling. my lodge ain't to be bought, nor _anything_ in it--not even the broom to keep it clean of any half-breeds that'd enter it without leave." there was malice in the words, but there was greater malice in the tone, and lablache, who was bent on getting the business, swallowed his ugly wrath, and determined that, if he got the business, he would get the lodge also in due time; for dingan, if he went, would not take the lodge--or the woman--with him; and dingan was not fool enough to stay when he could go to groise to a sure fortune. the captain of the _ste. anne_ again spoke. "there's another thing the company said, dingan. you needn't go to groise, not at once. you can take a month and visit your folks down east, and lay in a stock of home-feelings before you settle down at groise for good. they was fair when i put it to them that you'd mebbe want to do that. 'you tell dingan,' they said, 'that he can have the month glad and grateful, and a free ticket on the railway back and forth. he can have it at once,' they said." watching, mitiahwe could see her man's face brighten, and take on a look of longing at this suggestion; and it seemed to her that the bird she heard in the night was calling in his ears now. her eyes went blind for a moment. "the game is with you, dingan. all the cards are in your hands; you'll never get such another chance again; and you're only thirty," said the captain. [illustration: the bird she heard in the night was calling in his ears now] "i wish they'd ask me," said dingan's partner, with a sigh, as he looked at lablache. "i want my chance bad, though we've done well here--good gosh, yes, all through dingan." "the winters, they go queeck in groise," said lablache. "it is life all the time, trade all the time, plenty to do and see--and a _bon fortune_ to make, bagosh!" "your old home was in nova scotia, wasn't it, dingan?" asked the captain, in a low voice. "i kem from connecticut, and i was east to my village las' year. it was good, seein' all my old friends again; but i kem back content, i kem back full of home-feelin's and content. you'll like the trip, dingan. it'll do you good." dingan drew himself up with a start. "all right. i guess i'll do it. let's figure up again," he said to his partner, with a reckless air. with a smothered cry mitiahwe turned and fled into the darkness, and back to the lodge. the lodge was empty. she threw herself upon the great couch in an agony of despair. a half-hour went by. then she rose, and began to prepare supper. her face was aflame, her manner was determined, and once or twice her hand went to her belt, as though to assure herself of something. never had the lodge looked so bright and cheerful; never had she prepared so appetizing a supper; never had the great couch seemed so soft and rich with furs, so homelike and so inviting after a long day's work. never had mitiahwe seemed so good to look at, so graceful and alert and refined--suffering does its work even in the wild woods, with "wild people." never had the lodge such an air of welcome and peace and home as to-night; and so dingan thought as he drew aside the wide curtains of deerskin and entered. mitiahwe was bending over the fire, and appeared not to hear him. "mitiahwe," he said, gently. she was singing to herself, to an indian air, the words of a song dingan had taught her: "open the door: cold is the night, and my feet are heavy, heap up the fire, scatter upon it the cones and the scented leaves; spread the soft robe on the couch for the chief that returns, bring forth the cup of remembrance--" it was like a low recitative, and it had a plaintive cadence, as of a dove that mourned. "mitiahwe," he said, in a louder voice, but with a break in it, too; for it all rushed upon him, all that she had been to him--all that had made the great west glow with life, made the air sweeter, the grass greener, the trees more companionable and human: who it was that had given the waste places a voice. yet--yet, there were his own people in the east, there was another life waiting for him, there was the life of ambition and wealth, and, and home--and children. his eyes were misty as she turned to him with a little cry of surprise, how much natural and how much assumed--for she had heard him enter--it would have been hard to say. she was a woman, and therefore the daughter of pretence even when most real. he caught her by both arms as she shyly but eagerly came to him. "good girl, good little girl," he said. he looked round him. "well, i've never seen our lodge look nicer than it does to-night; and the fire, and the pot on the fire, and the smell of the pine-cones, and the cedar-boughs, and the skins, and--" "and everything," she said, with a queer little laugh, as she moved away again to turn the steaks on the fire. everything! he started at the word. it was so strange that she should use it by accident, when but a little while ago he had been ready to choke the wind out of a man's body for using it concerning herself. it stunned him for a moment, for the west, and the life apart from the world of cities, had given him superstition, like that of the indians, whose life he had made his own. herself!--to leave her here, who had been so much to him? as true as the sun she worshipped, her eyes had never lingered on another man since she came to his lodge; and, to her mind, she was as truly sacredly married to him as though a thousand priests had spoken, or a thousand medicine men had made their incantations. she was his woman and he was her man. as he chatted to her, telling her of much that he had done that day, and wondering how he could tell her of _all_ he had done, he kept looking round the lodge, his eye resting on this or that; and everything had its own personal history, had become part of their lodge-life, because it had a use as between him and her, and not a conventional domestic place. every skin, every utensil, every pitcher and bowl and pot and curtain had been with them at one time or another when it became of importance and renowned in the story of their days and deeds. how could he break it to her--that he was going to visit his own people, and that she must be alone with her mother all winter, to await his return in the spring? his return? as he watched her sitting beside him, helping him to his favorite dish, the close, companionable trust and gentleness of her, her exquisite cleanness and grace in his eyes, he asked himself if, after all, it was not true that he would return in the spring. the years had passed without his seriously thinking of this inevitable day. he had put it off and off, content to live each hour as it came and take no real thought for the future; and yet, behind all was the warning fact that he must go one day, and that mitiahwe could not go with him. her mother must have known that when she let mitiahwe come to him. of course; and, after all, she would find another mate, a better mate, one of her own people. but her hand was in his now, and it was small and very warm, and suddenly he shook with anger at the thought of one like breaking rock taking her to his wigwam; or lablache--this roused him to an inward fury; and mitiahwe saw and guessed the struggle that was going on in him, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, and once she raised his hand to her lips, and said, "my chief!" then his face cleared again, and she got him his pipe and filled it, and held a coal to light it; and, as the smoke curled up, and he leaned back contentedly for the moment, she went to the door, drew open the curtains, and, stepping outside, raised her eyes to the horseshoe. then she said softly to the sky: "o sun, great father, have pity on me, for i love him, and would keep him. and give me bone of his bone, and one to nurse at my breast that is of him. o sun, pity me this night, and be near me when i speak to him, and hear what i say." "what are you doing out there, mitiahwe?" dingan cried; and when she entered again he beckoned her to him. "what was it you were saying? who were you speaking to?" he asked. "i heard your voice." "i was thanking the sun for his goodness to me. i was speaking for the thing that is in my heart, that is life of my life," she added, vaguely. "well, i have something to say to you, little girl," he said, with an effort. she remained erect before him waiting for the blow--outwardly calm, inwardly crying out in pain. "do you think you could stand a little parting?" he asked, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "i have been alone before--for five days," she answered, quietly. "but it must be longer this time." "how long?" she asked, with eyes fixed on his. "if it is more than a week, i will go too." "it is longer than a month," he said. "then i will go." "i am going to see my people," he faltered. "by the _ste. anne_?" he nodded. "it is the last chance this year; but i will come back--in the spring." as he said it he saw her shrink, and his heart smote him. four years such as few men ever spent, and all the luck had been with him, and the west had got into his bones! the quiet, starry nights, the wonderful days, the hunt, the long journeys, the life free of care, and the warm lodge; and, here, the great couch--ah, the cheek pressed to his, the lips that whispered at his ear, the smooth arm round his neck. it all rushed upon him now. his people! his people in the east, who had thwarted his youth, vexed and cramped him, saw only evil in his widening desires, and threw him over when he came out west--the scallywag, they called him, who had never wronged a man--or a woman? never--wronged--a--woman? the question sprang to his lips now. suddenly he saw it all in a new light. white or brown or red, this heart and soul and body before him were all his, sacred to him; he was in very truth her "chief." untutored as she was, she read him, felt what was going on in him. she saw the tears spring to his eyes. then, coming close to him, she said, softly, slowly: "i must go with you if you go, because you must be with me when--oh, _hai-yai_, my chief, shall we go from here? here in this lodge wilt thou be with thine own people--thine own, thou and i--_and thine to come_." the great passion in her heart made the lie seem very truth. with a cry he got to his feet, and stood staring at her for a moment, scarcely comprehending; then suddenly he clasped her in his arms. "mitiahwe--mitiahwe, oh, my little girl!" he cried. "you and me--and our own--our own people!" kissing her, he drew her down beside him on the couch. "tell me again--is it so at last?" he said, and she whispered in his ear once more. in the middle of the night he said to her, "some day, perhaps, we will go east--some day, perhaps." "but now?" she asked, softly. "not now--not if i know it," he answered. "i've got my heart nailed to the door of this lodge." as he slept she got quietly out, and, going to the door of the lodge, reached up a hand and touched the horseshoe. "be good medicine to me," she said. then she prayed. "o sun, pity me, that it may be as i have said to him. oh, pity me, great father!" in the days to come swift wing said that it was her medicine--when her hand was burned to the wrist in the dark ritual she had performed with the medicine man the night that mitiahwe fought for her man; but mitiahwe said it was her medicine, the horseshoe, which brought one of dingan's own people to the lodge--a little girl with mitiahwe's eyes and form and her father's face. truth has many mysteries, and the faith of the woman was great; and so it was that, to the long end, mitiahwe kept her man. but truly she was altogether a woman, and had good-fortune. once at red man's river "it's got to be settled to-night, nance, this game is up here, up forever. the redcoat police from ottawa are coming, and they'll soon be roostin' in this post, the injuns are goin', the buffaloes are most gone, and the fur trade's dead in these parts. d'ye see?" the woman did not answer the big, broad-shouldered man bending over her, but remained looking into the fire with wide, abstracted eyes, and a face somewhat set. "you and your brother bantry's got to go. this store ain't worth a cent now. the hudson's bay company'll come along with the redcoats, and they'll set up a nice little sunday-school business here for what they call 'agricultural settlers.' there'll be a railway, and the yankees'll send up their marshals to work with the redcoats on the border, and--" "and the days of smuggling will be over," put in the girl, in a low voice. "no more bull-whackers and mule-skinners 'whooping-it up'; no more blackfeet and piegans drinking alcohol and water, and cutting one anothers' throats. a nice, quiet time coming on the border abe, eh?" the man looked at her queerly. she was not prone to sarcasm, she had not been given to sentimentalism in the past; she had taken the border-life as it was, had looked it straight between the eyes. she had lived up to it, or down to it, without any fuss, as good as any man in any phase of the life, and the only white woman in this whole west country. it was not in the words, but in the tone, that abe hawley found something unusual and defamatory. "why, gol darn it, nance, what's got into you? you bin a man out west, as good a pioneer as ever was on the border. but now you don't sound friendly to what's been the game out here, and to all of us that've been risking our lives to get a livin'." "what did i say?" asked the girl, unmoved. "it ain't what you said, it's the sound o' your voice." "you don't know my voice, abe. it ain't always the same. you ain't always about; you don't always hear it." he caught her arm suddenly. "no, but i want to hear it always. i want to be always where you are, nance. that's what's got to be settled to-day--to-night." "oh, it's got to be settled to-night!" said the girl, meditatively, kicking nervously at a log on the fire. "it takes two to settle a thing like that, and there's only one says it's got to be settled. maybe it takes more than two--or three--to settle a thing like that." now she laughed mirthlessly. the man started, and his face flushed with anger; then he put a hand on himself, drew a step back, and watched her. "_one_ can settle a thing, if there's a dozen in it. you see, nance, you and bantry've got to close out. he's fixing it up to-night over at dingan's drive, and you can't go it alone when you quit this place. now, it's this way: you can go west with bantry, or you can go north with me. away north there's buffalo and deer, and game a-plenty, up along the saskatchewan, and farther up on the peace river. it's going to be all right up there for half a lifetime, and we can have it in our own way yet. there'll be no smuggling, but there'll be trading, and land to get; and, mebbe, there'd be no need of smuggling, for we can make it, i know how--good white whiskey--and we'll still have this free life for our own. i can't make up my mind to settle down to a clean collar and going to church on sundays, and all that. and the west's in your bones, too. you look like the west--" the girl's face brightened with pleasure, and she gazed at him steadily. "you got its beauty and its freshness, and you got its heat and cold--" she saw the tobacco-juice stain at the corners of his mouth, she became conscious of the slight odor of spirits in the air, and the light in her face lowered in intensity. "you got the ways of the deer in your walk, the song o' the birds in your voice; and you're going north with me, nance, for i bin talkin' to you stiddy four years. it's a long time to wait on the chance, for there's always _women_ to be got, same as others have done--men like dingan with injun girls, and men like tobey with half-breeds. but i ain't bin lookin' that way. i bin lookin' only toward you." he laughed eagerly, and lifted a tin cup of whiskey standing on a table near. "i'm lookin' toward you now, nance. your health and mine together. it's got to be settled now. you got to go to the 'cific coast with bantry, or north with me." the girl jerked a shoulder and frowned a little. he seemed so sure of himself. "or south with nick pringle, or east with someone else," she said, quizzically. "there's always four quarters to the compass, even when abe hawley thinks he owns the world and has a mortgage on eternity. i'm not going west with bantry, but there's three other points that's open." with an oath the man caught her by the shoulders, and swung her round to face him. he was swelling with anger. "you--nick pringle, that trading cheat, that gambler! after four years, i--" "let go my shoulders," she said, quietly. "i'm not your property. go and get some piegan girl to bully. keep your hands off. i'm not a bronco for you to bit and bridle. you've got no rights. you--" suddenly she relented, seeing the look in his face, and realizing that, after all, it was a tribute to herself that she could keep him for four years and rouse him to such fury. "but yes, abe," she added, "you have some rights. we've been good friends all these years, and you've been all right out here. you said some nice things about me just now, and i liked it, even if it was as if you'd learned it out of a book. i've got no po'try in me; i'm plain homespun. i'm a sapling, i'm not any prairie-flower, but i like when i like, and i like a lot when i like. i'm a bit of hickory, i'm not a prairie-flower--" "who said you was a prairie-flower? did i? who's talking about prairie-flowers--" he stopped suddenly, turned round at the sound of a footstep behind him, and saw, standing in a doorway leading to another room, a man who was digging his knuckles into his eyes and stifling a yawn. he was a refined-looking stripling of not more than twenty-four, not tall, but well-made, and with an air of breeding, intensified rather than hidden by his rough clothes. "je-rick-ety! how long have i slept?" he said, blinking at the two beside the fire. "how long?" he added, with a flutter of anxiety in his tone. "i said i'd wake you," said the girl, coming forward. "you needn't have worried." "i don't worry," answered the young man. "i dreamed myself awake, i suppose. i got dreaming of redcoats and u. s. marshals, and an ambush in the barfleur coulã©e, and--" he saw a secret, warning gesture from the girl, and laughed, then turned to abe and looked him in the face. "oh, i know him! abe hawley's all o.k.--i've seen him over at dingan's drive. honor among rogues. we're all in it. how goes it--all right?" he added, carelessly, to hawley, and took a step forward, as though to shake hands. seeing the forbidding look by which he was met, however, he turned to the girl again, as hawley muttered something they could not hear. "what time is it?" he asked. "it's nine o'clock," answered the girl, her eyes watching his every movement, her face alive. "then the moon's up almost?" "it'll be up in an hour." "jerickety! then i've got to get ready." he turned to the other room again and entered. "college pup!" said hawley, under his breath, savagely. "why didn't you tell me he was here?" "was it any of your business, abe?" she rejoined, quietly. "hiding him away here--" "hiding? who's been hiding him? he's doing what you've done. he's smuggling--the last lot for the traders over by dingan's drive. he'll get it there by morning. he has as much right here as you. what's got into you, abe?" "what does he know about the business? why, he's a college man from the east. i've heard o' him. ain't got no more sense for this life than a dicky-bird. white-faced college pup! what's he doing out here? if you're a friend o' his, you'd better look after him. he's green." "he's going east again," she said, "and if i don't go west with bantry, or south over to montana with nick pringle, _or north_--" "nance!" his eyes burned, his lips quivered. she looked at him and wondered at the power she had over this bully of the border, who had his own way with most people, and was one of the most daring fighters, hunters, and smugglers in the country. he was cool, hard, and well in hand in his daily life, and yet, where she was concerned, "went all to pieces," as some one else had said about himself to her. she was not without the wiles and tact of her sex. "you go now, and come back, abe," she said, in a soft voice. "come back in an hour. come back then, and i'll tell you which way i'm going from here." he was all right again. "it's with you, nance," he said, eagerly. "i bin waiting four years." as he closed the door behind him the "college pup" entered the room again. "oh, abe's gone!" he said, excitedly. "i hoped you'd get rid of the old rip-roarer. i wanted to be alone with you for a while. i don't really need to start yet. with the full moon i can do it before daylight." then, with quick warmth, "ah, nancy, nancy, you're a flower--the flower of all the prairies," he added, catching her hand and laughing into her eyes. she flushed, and for a moment seemed almost bewildered. his boldness, joined to an air of insinuation and understanding, had influenced her greatly from the first moment they had met, two months ago, as he was going south on his smuggling enterprise. the easy way in which he had talked to her, the extraordinary sense he seemed to have of what was going on in her mind, the confidential meaning in voice and tone and words had, somehow, opened up a side of her nature hitherto unexplored. she had talked with him freely then, for it was only when he left her that he said what he instinctively knew she would remember till they met again. his quick comments, his indirect but acute questions, his exciting and alluring reminiscences of the east, his subtle yet seemingly frank compliments, had only stimulated a new capacity in her, evoked comparisons of this delicate-looking, fine-faced gentleman with the men of the west by whom she was surrounded. but later he appeared to stumble into expressions of admiration for her, as though he was carried off his feet and had been stunned by her charm. he had done it all like a master. he had not said that she was beautiful--she knew she was not--but that she was wonderful and fascinating, and with "something about her" he had never seen in all his life: like her own prairies, thrilling, inspiring, and adorable. his first look at her had seemed full of amazement. she had noticed that, and thought it meant only that he was surprised to find a white girl out here among smugglers, hunters, squaw-men, and indians. but he said that the first look at her had made him feel things, feel life and women different from ever before; and he had never seen any one like her, nor a face with so much in it. it was all very brilliantly done. "you make me want to live," he had said, and she, with no knowledge of the nuances of language, had taken it literally, and had asked him if it had been his wish to die; and he had responded to her mistaken interpretation of his meaning, saying that he had had such sorrow he had not wanted to live. as he said it his face looked, in truth, overcome by some deep, inward care; so that there came a sort of feeling she had never had so far for any man--that he ought to have some one to look after him. this was the first real stirring of the maternal and protective spirit in her toward men, though it had shown itself amply enough regarding animals and birds. he had said he had not wanted to live, and yet he had come out west in order to try and live, to cure the trouble that had started in his lungs. the eastern doctors had told him that the rough, out-door life would cure him, or nothing would, and he had vanished from the college walls and the pleasant purlieus of learning and fashion into the wilds. he had not lied directly to her when he said that he had had deep trouble; but he had given the impression that he was suffering from wrongs which had broken his spirit and ruined his health. wrongs there certainly had been in his life, by whomever committed. two months ago he had left this girl with her mind full of memories of what he had said to her, and there was something in the sound of the slight cough following his farewell words which had haunted her ever since. her tremendous health and energy, the fire of life burning so brightly in her, reached out toward this man living on so narrow a margin of force, with no reserve for any extra strain, with just enough for each day's use and no more. four hours before he had come again with his team of four mules and an indian youth, having covered forty miles since his last stage. she was at the door, and saw him coming while he was yet a long distance off. some instinct had told her to watch that afternoon, for she knew of his intended return and of his dangerous enterprise. the indians had trailed south and east, the traders had disappeared with them, her brother bantry had gone up and over to dingan's drive, and, save for a few loiterers and last hangers-on, she was alone with what must soon be a deserted post; its walls, its great enclosed yard, and its gun-platforms (for it had been fortified) left for law and order to enter upon, in the persons of the red-coated watchmen of the law. out of the south, from over the border, bringing the last great smuggled load of whiskey which was to be handed over at dingan's drive, and then floated on red man's river to settlements up north, came the "college pup," kelly lambton, worn out, dazed with fatigue, but smiling too, for a woman's face was ever a tonic to his blood since he was big enough to move in life for himself. it needed courage--or recklessness--to run the border now; for, as abe hawley had said, the american marshals were on the pounce, the red-coated mounted police were coming west from ottawa, and word had winged its way along the prairie that these redcoats were only a few score miles away, and might be at fort stay-awhile at any moment. the trail to dingan's drive lay past it. through barfleur coulã©e, athwart a great, open stretch of country, along a wooded belt, and then, suddenly, over a ridge, dingan's drive and red man's river would be reached. the government had a mind to make an example, if necessary, by killing some smugglers in conflict, and the united states marshals had been goaded by vanity and anger at one or two escapes "to have something for their money," as they said. that, in their language, meant, "to let the red run," and kelly lambton had none too much blood to lose. he looked very pale and beaten as he held nance machell's hands now, and called her a prairie-flower, as he had done when he left her two months before. on his arrival, but now he had said little, for he saw that she was glad to see him, and he was dead for sleep, after thirty-six hours of ceaseless travel and watching and danger. now, with the most perilous part of his journey still before him, and worn physically as he was, his blood was running faster as he looked into the girl's face, and something in her abundant force and bounding life drew him to her. such vitality in a man like abe hawley would have angered him almost, as it did a little time ago, when abe was there; but possessed by the girl, it roused in him a hunger to draw from the well of her perfect health, from the unused vigor of her being, something for himself. the touch of her hands warmed him. in the fulness of her life, in the strong eloquence of face and form, he forgot she was not beautiful. the lightness passed from his words, and his face became eager. "flower, yes, the flower of the life of the west--that's what i mean," he said. "you are like an army marching. when i look at you, my blood runs faster. i want to march too. when i hold your hand i feel that life's worth living--i want to do things." she drew her hand away rather awkwardly. she had not now that command of herself which had ever been easy with the men of the west, except, perhaps, with abe hawley when-but with an attempt, only half-meant, to turn the topic, she said: "you must be starting if you want to get through to-night. if the redcoats catch you this side of barfleur coulã©e, or in the coulã©e itself, you'll stand no chance. i heard they was only thirty miles north this afternoon. maybe they'll come straight on here to-night, instead of camping. if they have news of your coming, they might. you can't tell." "you're right." he caught her hand again. "i've got to be going now. but nance--nance--nancy, i want to stay here, here with you; or to take you with me." she drew back. "what do you mean?" she asked. "take me with you--me--where?" "east--away down east." her brain throbbed, her pulses beat so hard. she scarcely knew what to say, did not know what she said. "why do you do this kind of thing? why do you smuggle?" she asked. "you wasn't brought up to this." "to get this load of stuff through is life and death to me," he answered. "i've made six thousand dollars out here. that's enough to start me again in the east, where i lost everything. but i've got to have six hundred dollars clear for the travel--railways and things; and i'm having this last run to get it. then i've finished with the west, i guess. my health's better; the lung is closed up, i've only got a little cough now and again, and i'm off east. i don't want to go alone." he suddenly caught her in his arms. "i want you--you, to go with me, nancy--nance!" her brain swam. to leave the west behind, to go east to a new life full of pleasant things, as this man's wife! her great heart rose, and suddenly the mother in her as well as the woman in her was captured by his wooing. she had never known what it was to be wooed like this. she was about to answer when there came a sharp knock at the door leading from the back yard, and lambton's indian lad entered. "the soldier--he come--many. i go over the ridge, i see. they come quick here," he said. nance gave a startled cry, and lambton turned to the other room for his pistols, overcoat, and cap, when there was the sound of horses' hoofs, the door suddenly opened, and an officer stepped inside. "you're wanted for smuggling, lambton," he said, brusquely. "don't stir!" in his hand was a revolver. "oh, bosh! prove it," answered the young man, pale and startled, but cool in speech and action. "we'll prove it all right. the stuff is hereabouts." the girl said something to the officer in the chinook language. she saw he did not understand. then she spoke quickly to lambton in the same tongue. "keep him here a bit," she said. "his men haven't come yet. your outfit is well hid. i'll see if i can get away with it before they find it. they'll follow, and bring you with them, that's sure. so if i have luck and get through, we'll meet at dingan's drive." lambton's face brightened. he quickly gave her a few directions in chinook, and told her what to do at dingan's if she got there first. then she was gone. the officer did not understand what nance had said, but he realized that, whatever she intended to do, she had an advantage over him. with an unnecessary courage he had ridden on alone to make his capture, and, as it proved, without prudence. he had got his man, but he had not got the smuggled whiskey and alcohol he had come to seize. there was no time to be lost. the girl had gone before he realized it. what had she said to the prisoner? he was foolish enough to ask lambton, and lambton replied coolly: "she said she'd get you some supper, but she guessed it would have to be cold--what's your name? are you a colonel, or a captain, or only a principal private?" "i am captain macfee, lambton. and you'll now bring me where your outfit is. march!" the pistol was still in his hand, and he had a determined look in his eye. lambton saw it. he was aware of how much power lay in the threatening face before him, and how eager that power was to make itself felt, and provide "examples"; but he took his chances. "i'll march all right," he answered; "but i'll march to where you tell me. you can't have it both ways. you can take me, because you've found me, and you can take my outfit, too, when you've found it; but i'm not doing your work, not if i know it." there was a blaze of anger in the eyes of the officer, and it looked for an instant as though something of the lawlessness of the border was going to mark the first step of the law in the wilderness, but he bethought himself in time, and said, quietly, yet in a voice which lambton knew he must heed: "put on your things--quick." when this was accomplished, and macfee had secured the smuggler's pistols, he said again, "march, lambton!" lambton marched through the moonlit night toward the troop of men who had come to set up the flag of order in the plains and hills, and as he went his keen ear heard his own mules galloping away down toward the barfleur coulã©e. his heart thumped in his breast. this girl, this prairie-flower, was doing this for him, was risking her life, was breaking the law for him. if she got through, and handed over the whiskey to those who were waiting for it, and it got bundled into the boats going north before the redcoats reached dingan's drive, it would be as fine a performance as the west had ever seen; and he would be six hundred dollars to the good. he listened to the mules galloping, till the sounds had died into the distance, but he saw now that his captor had heard too, and that the pursuit would be desperate. a half-hour later it began, with macfee at the head and a dozen troopers pounding behind, weary, hungry, bad-tempered, ready to exact payment for their hardships and discouragement. they had not gone a dozen miles when a shouting horseman rode furiously on them from behind. they turned with carbines cocked, but it was abe hawley who cursed them, flung his fingers in their faces, and rode on harder and harder. abe had got the news from one of nancy's half-breeds, and, with the devil raging in his heart, had entered on the chase. his spirit was up against them all: against the law represented by the troopers camped at fort stay-awhile, against the troopers and their captain speeding after nancy machell--his nance, who was risking her life and freedom for the hated, pale-faced smuggler riding between the troopers; and his spirit was up against nance herself. nance had said to him, "come back in an hour," and he had come back to find her gone. she had broken her word. she had deceived him. she had thrown the four years of his waiting to the winds, and a savage lust was in his heart, which would not be appeased till he had done some evil thing to some one. the girl and the indian lad were pounding through the night with ears strained to listen for hoof-beats coming after, with eyes searching forward into the trail for swollen creeks and direful obstructions. through barfleur coulã©e it was a terrible march, for there was no road, and again and again they were nearly overturned, while wolves hovered in their path, ready to reap a midnight harvest. but once in the open again, with the full moonlight on their trail, the girl's spirits rose. if she could do this thing for the man who had looked into her eyes as no one had ever done, what a finish to her days in the west! for they were finished, finished forever, and she was going--she was going east; not west with bantry, nor south with nick pringle, nor north with abe hawley--ah, abe hawley! he had been a good friend, he had a great heart, he was the best man of all the western men she had known; but another man had come from the east, a man who had roused something in her never felt before, a man who had said she was wonderful; and he needed some one to take good care of him, to make him love life again. abe would have been all right if lambton had never come, and she had meant to marry abe in the end; but it was different now, and abe must get over it. yet she had told abe to come back in an hour. he was sure to do it; and, when he had done it, and found her gone on this errand, what would he do? she knew what he would do. he would hurt someone. he would follow, too. but at dingan's drive, if she reached it before the troopers and before abe, and did the thing she had set out to do; and because no whiskey could be found, lambton must go free; and they all stood there together, what would be the end? abe would be terrible; but she was going east, not north, and, when the time came she would face it and put things right somehow. the night seemed endless to her fixed and anxious eyes and mind, yet dawn came, and there had fallen no sound of hoof-beats on her ear. the ridge above dingan's drive was reached and covered, but yet there was no sign of her pursuers. at red man's river she delivered her load of contraband to the traders waiting for it, and saw it loaded into the boats and disappear beyond the wooded bend above dingan's. then she collapsed into the arms of her brother bantry, and was carried, fainting, into dingan's lodge. a half-hour later macfee and his troopers and lambton came. macfee grimly searched the post and the shore, but he saw by the looks of all that he had been foiled. he had no proof of anything, and lambton must go free. "you've fooled us," he said to nance, sourly, yet with a kind of admiration, too. "through you, they got away with it. but i wouldn't try it again, if i were you." "once is enough," answered the girl, laconically, as lambton, set free, caught both her hands in his and whispered in her ear. macfee turned to the others. "you'd better drop this kind of thing," he said. "i mean business." they saw the troopers by the horses, and nodded. "well, we was about quit of it anyhow," said bantry. "we've had all we want out here." a loud laugh went up, and it was still ringing when there burst into the group, out of the trail, abe hawley, on foot. he looked round the group savagely till his eyes rested on nance and lambton. "i'm last in," he said, in a hoarse voice. "my horse broke its leg cutting across to get here before her--" he waved a hand toward nance. "it's best stickin' to old trails, not tryin' new ones." his eyes were full of hate as he looked at lambton. "i'm keeping to old trails. i'm for goin' north, far up, where these two-dollar-a-day and hash-and-clothes people ain't come yet." he made a contemptuous gesture toward macfee and his troopers. "i'm goin' north--" he took a step forward and fixed his bloodshot eyes on nance. "i say i'm goin' north. you comin' with me, nance?" he took off his cap to her. he was haggard, his buckskins were torn, his hair was dishevelled, and he limped a little; but he was a massive and striking figure, and macfee watched him closely, for there was that in his eyes which meant trouble. "you said, 'come back in an hour,' nance, and i come back, as i said i would," he went on. "you didn't stand to your word. i've come to git it. i'm goin' north, nance, and i bin waitin' for four years for you to go with me. are you comin'?" his voice was quiet, but it had a choking kind of sound, and it struck strangely in the ears of all. macfee came nearer. "are you comin' with me, nance, dear?" she reached a hand toward lambton, and he took it, but she did not speak. something in abe's eyes overwhelmed her--something she had never seen before, and it seemed to stifle speech in her. lambton spoke instead. "she's going east with me," he said. "that's settled." macfee started. then he caught abe's arm. "wait!" he said, peremptorily. "wait one minute." there was something in his voice which held abe back for the instant. [illustration: the start on the north trail] "you say she is going east with you," macfee said sharply to lambton. "what for?" he fastened lambton with his eyes, and lambton quailed. "have you told her you've got a wife--down east? i've got your history, lambton. have you told her that you've got a wife you married when you were at college--and as good a girl as ever lived?" it had come with terrible suddenness even to lambton, and he was too dazed to make any reply. with a cry of shame and anger, nancy started back. growling with rage and hate, abe hawley sprang toward lambton, but the master of the troopers stepped between. no one could tell who moved first, or who first made the suggestion, for the minds of all were the same, and the general purpose was instantaneous; but in the fraction of a minute lambton, under menace, was on his hands and knees crawling to the riverside. watchful, but not interfering, the master of the troopers saw him set adrift in a canoe without a paddle, while he was pelted with mud from the shore. * * * * * the next morning at sunrise abe hawley and the girl he had waited for so long started on the north trail together, macfee, master of the troopers and justice of the peace, handing over the marriage lines. the stroke of the hour "they won't come to-night--sure." the girl looked again toward the west, where, here and there, bare poles, or branches of trees, or slips of underbrush, marked a road made across the plains through the snow. the sun was going down golden red, folding up the sky a wide, soft curtain of pink and mauve and deep purple merging into the fathomless blue, where already the stars were beginning to quiver. the house stood on the edge of a little forest, which had boldly asserted itself in the wide flatness. at this point in the west the prairie merged into an undulating territory, where hill and wood rolled away from the banks of the saskatchewan, making another england in beauty. the forest was a sort of advance-post of that land of beauty. yet there was beauty, too, on this prairie, though there was nothing to the east but snow and the forest so far as eye could see. nobility and peace and power brooded over the white world. as the girl looked, it seemed as though the bosom of the land rose and fell. she had felt this vibrating life beat beneath the frozen surface. now, as she gazed, she smiled sadly to herself, with drooping eyelids looking out from beneath strong brows. "i know you--i know you," she said, aloud. "you've got to take your toll. and when you're lying asleep like that, or pretending to, you reach up--and kill. and yet you can be kind--ah, but you can be kind and beautiful! but you must have your toll one way or t'other." she sighed and paused; then, after a moment, looking along the trail--"i don't expect they'll come to-night, and mebbe not to-morrow, if--if they stay for _that_." her eyes closed, she shivered a little. her lips drew tight, and her face seemed suddenly to get thinner. "but dad wouldn't--no, he couldn't, not considerin'--" again she shut her eyes in pain. her face was now turned from the western road by which she had expected her travellers, and toward the east, where already the snow was taking on a faint bluish tint, a reflection of the sky deepening toward night in that half-circle of the horizon. distant and a little bleak and cheerless the half-circle was looking now. "no one--not for two weeks," she said, in comment on the eastern trail, which was so little frequented in winter, and this year had been less travelled than ever. "it would be nice to have a neighbor," she added, as she faced the west and the sinking sun again. "i get so lonely--just minutes i get lonely. but it's them minutes that seem to count more than all the rest when they come. i expect that's it--we don't live in months and years, but just in minutes. it doesn't take long for an earthquake to do its work--it's seconds then.... p'r'aps dad won't even come to-morrow," she added, as she laid her hand on the latch. "it never seemed so long before, not even when he's been away a week." she laughed bitterly. "even bad company's better than no company at all. sure. and mickey has been here always when dad's been away past times. mickey was a fool, but he was company; and mebbe he'd have been better company if he'd been more of a scamp and less a fool. i dunno, but i really think he would. bad company doesn't put you off so." there was a scratching at the inside of the door. "my, if i didn't forget shako," she said, "and he dying for a run!" she opened the door quickly, and out jumped a russian dog of almost full breed, with big, soft eyes like those of his mistress, and with the air of the north in every motion--like his mistress also. "come, shako, a run--a run!" an instant after she was flying off on a path toward the woods, her short skirts flying and showing limbs as graceful and shapely as those of any woman of that world of social grace which she had never seen; for she was a prairie girl through and through, born on the plains and fed on its scanty fare--scanty as to variety, at least. backward and forward they ran, the girl shouting like a child of ten--she was twenty-three--her eyes flashing, her fine white teeth showing, her hands thrown up in sheer excess of animal life, her hair blowing about her face--brown, strong hair, wavy and plentiful. fine creature as she was, her finest features were her eyes and her hands. the eyes might have been found in the most savage places; the hands, however, only could have come through breeding. she had got them honestly; for her mother was descended from an old family of the french province. that was why she had the name of loisette--and had a touch of distinction. it was the strain of the patrician in the full blood of the peasant; but it gave her something which made her what she was--what she had been since a child, noticeable and besought, sometimes beloved. it was too strong a nature to compel love often, but it never failed to compel admiration. not greatly a creature of words, she had become moody of late; and even now, alive with light and feeling and animal life, she suddenly stopped her romp and run, and called the dog to her. "heel, shako!" she said, and made for the door of the little house, which looked so snug and homelike. she paused before she came to the door, to watch the smoke curling up from the chimney straight as a column, for there was not a breath of air stirring. the sun was almost gone, and the strong bluish light was settling on everything, giving even the green spruce-trees a curious burnished tone. _swish! thud!_ she faced the woods quickly. it was only a sound that she had heard how many hundreds of times! it was the snow slipping from some broad branch of the fir-trees to the ground. yet she started now. something was on her mind, agitating her senses, affecting her self-control. "i'll be jumping out of my boots when the fire snaps, or the frost cracks the ice, next," she said, aloud, contemptuously. "i dunno what's the matter with me. i feel as if some one was hiding somewhere ready to pop out on me. i haven't never felt like that before." she had formed the habit of talking to herself, for it had seemed at first, as she was left alone when her father went trapping or upon journeys for the government, that by-and-by she would start at the sound of her own voice if she didn't think aloud. so she was given to soliloquy, defying the old belief that people who talked to themselves were going mad. she laughed at that. she said that birds sang to themselves and didn't go mad, and crickets chirruped, and frogs croaked, and owls hooted, and she would talk and not go crazy either. so she talked to herself and to shako when she was alone. how quiet it was inside when her light supper was eaten--bread and beans and pea-soup; she had got this from her french mother. now she sat, her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hands, looking into the fire. shako was at her feet upon the great musk-ox rug, which her father had got on one of his hunting trips in the athabasca country years ago. it belonged as she belonged. it breathed of the life of the north-land, for the timbers of the hut were hewn cedar; the rough chimney, the seats, and the shelves on which a few books made a fair show beside the bright tins and the scanty crockery, were of pine; and the horned heads of deer and wapiti made pegs for coats and caps, and rests for guns and rifles. it was a place of comfort; it had an air of well-to-do thrift, even as the girl's dress, though plain, was made of good, sound stuff, gray, with a touch of dark red to match the auburn of her hair. a book lay open in her lap, but she had scarcely tried to read it. she had put it down after a few moments fixed upon it. it had sent her thoughts off into a world where her life had played a part too big for books, too deep for the plummet of any save those who had lived through the storm of life's trials; and life when it is bitter to the young is bitter with an agony the old never know. at last she spoke to herself. "she knows now! now she knows what it is, how it feels--your heart like red-hot coals, and something in your head that's like a turnscrew, and you want to die and can't, for you've got to live and suffer!" again she was quiet, and only the dog's heavy breathing, the snap of the fire, or the crack of a timber in the deadly frost broke the silence. inside it was warm and bright and homelike; outside it was twenty degrees below zero, and like some vast tomb where life itself was congealed, and only the white stars, low, twinkling, and quizzical, lived--a life of sharp corrosion, not of fire. suddenly she raised her head and listened. the dog did the same. none but those whose lives are lived in lonely places can be so acute, so sensitive to sound. it was a feeling delicate and intense, the whole nature getting the vibration. you could have heard nothing, had you been there; none but one who was of the wide spaces could have done so. but the dog and the woman felt, and both strained toward the window. again they heard, and started to their feet. it was far, far away, and still you could not have heard; but now they heard clearly--a cry in the night, a cry of pain and despair. the girl ran to the window and pulled aside the bearskin curtain which had completely shut out the light. then she stirred the fire, threw a log upon it, snuffed the candles, hastily put on her moccasins, fur coat, wool cap, and gloves, and went to the door quickly, the dog at her heels. opening it, she stepped out into the night. "_qui va lã ?_ who is it? where?" she called, and strained toward the west. she thought it might be her father or mickey the hired man, or both. the answer came from the east, out of the homeless, neighborless, empty east--a cry, louder now. there were only stars, and the night was dark, though not deep dark. she sped along the prairie road as fast as she could, once or twice stopping to call aloud. in answer to her calls the voice sounded nearer and nearer. now suddenly she left the trail and bore away northward. at last the voice was very near. presently a figure appeared ahead, staggering toward her. "_qui va lã ?_ who is it?" she asked. "ba'tiste caron," was the reply in english, in a faint voice. she was beside him in an instant. "what has happened? why are you off the trail?" she said, and supported him. "my injun stoled my dogs and run off," he replied. "i run after. then, when i am to come to the trail"--he paused to find the english word, and could not--"_encore_ to this trail i no can. so. ah, _bon dieu_, it has so awful!" he swayed and would have fallen, but she caught him, bore him up. she was so strong, and he was as slight as a girl, though tall. "when was that?" she asked. "two nights ago," he answered, and swayed. "wait," she said, and pulled a flask from her pocket. "drink this--quick!" he raised it to his lips, but her hand was still on it, and she only let him take a little. then she drew it away, though she had almost to use force, he was so eager for it. now she took a biscuit from her pocket. "eat; then some more brandy, after," she urged. "come on; it's not far. see, there's the light," she added, cheerily, raising her head toward the hut. "i saw it just when i have fall down--it safe me. i sit down to die--like that! but it safe me, that light--so. ah, _bon dieu_, it was so far, and i want eat so!" already he had swallowed the biscuit. "when did you eat last?" she asked, as she urged him on. "two nights--except for one leetla piece of bread--i fin' it in my pocket. _grã¢ce!_ i have travel so far. _jã©su_, i think it ees ten thousan' miles, i go. but i mus' go on, i mus' go--_certainement_." the light came nearer and nearer. his footsteps quickened, though he staggered now and then, and went like a horse that has run its race, but is driven upon its course again, going heavily with mouth open and head thrown forward and down. "but i mus' to get there, an' you--you will to help me, eh?" again he swayed, but her strong arm held him up. as they ran on, in a kind of dog-trot, her hand firm upon his arm--he seemed not to notice it--she became conscious, though it was half dark, of what sort of man she had saved. he was about her own age, perhaps a year or two older, with little, if any, hair upon his face, save a slight mustache. his eyes, deep sunken as they were, she made out were black, and the face, though drawn and famished, had a handsome look. presently she gave him another sip of brandy, and he quickened his steps, speaking to himself the while. "i haf to do it--if i lif. it is to go, go, go, till i get." now they came to the hut where the firelight flickered on the window-pane; the door was flung open, and, as he stumbled on the threshold, she helped him into the warm room. she almost pushed him over to the fire. divested of his outer coat, muffler, cap, and leggings, he sat on a bench before the fire, his eyes wandering from the girl to the flames, and his hands clasping and unclasping between his knees. his eyes dilating with hunger, he watched her preparations for his supper; and when at last--and she had been but a moment--it was placed before him, his head swam, and he turned faint with the stress of his longing. he would have swallowed a basin of pea-soup at a draught, but she stopped him, holding the basin till she thought he might venture again. then came cold beans, and some meat which she toasted at the fire and laid upon his plate. they had not spoken since first entering the house, when tears had shone in his eyes, and he had said: "you have safe--ah, you have safe me, and so i will do it yet by help _bon dieu_--yes." the meal was done at last, and he sat with a great dish of tea beside him, and his pipe alight. "what time, if please?" he asked. "i t'ink nine hour, but no sure." "it is near nine," she said. she hastily tidied up the table after his meal, and then came and sat in her chair over against the wall of the rude fireplace. "nine--dat is good. the moon rise at 'leven; den i go. i go on," he said, "if you show me de queeck way." "you go on--how can you go on?" she asked, almost sharply. "will you not to show me?" he asked. "show you what?" she asked, abruptly. "the queeck way to askatoon," he said, as though surprised that she should ask. "they say me if i get here you will tell me queeck way to askatoon. time, he go so fas', an' i have loose a day an' a night, an' i mus' get askatoon if i lif--i mus' get dere in time. it is all safe to de stroke of de hour, _mais_, after, it is--_bon dieu_!--it is hell then. who shall forgif me--no!" "the stroke of the hour--the stroke of the hour!" it beat into her brain. were they both thinking of the same thing now? "you will show me queeck way. i mus' be askatoon in two days, or it is all over," he almost moaned. "is no man here--i forget dat name, my head go round like a wheel; but i know dis place, an' de good god, he help me fin' my way to where i call out, _bien sã»r_. dat man's name i have forget." "my father's name is john alroyd," she answered, absently, for there were hammering at her brain the words, "_the stroke of the hour._" "ah, now i get--yes. an' your name, it is loisette alroy--ah, i have it in my mind now--loisette. i not forget dat name, i not forget you--no." "why do you want to go the 'quick' way to askatoon?" she asked. he puffed a moment at his pipe before he answered her. presently he said, holding out his pipe, "you not like smoke, mebbe?" she shook her head in negation, making an impatient gesture. "i forget ask you," he said. "dat journee make me forget. when injun jo, he leave me with the dogs, an' i wake up all alone, an' not know my way--not like jo, i think i die, it is so bad, so _terrible_ in my head. not'ing but snow, not'ing. but dere is de sun; it shine. it say to me, 'wake up, ba'tiste; it will be all right bime-bye.' but all time i t'ink i go mad, for i mus' get askatoon before--_dat_." she started. had she not used the same word in thinking of askatoon. "_that_," she had said. "why do you want to go the 'quick' way to askatoon?" she asked again, her face pale, her foot beating the floor impatiently. "to save him before _dat_!" he answered, as though she knew of what he was speaking and thinking. "what is _that_?" she asked. she knew now, surely, but she must ask it nevertheless. "dat hanging--of haman," he answered. he nodded to himself. then he took to gazing into the fire. his lips moved as though talking to himself, and the hand that held the pipe lay forgotten on his knee. "what have you to do with haman?" she asked, slowly, her eyes burning. "i want safe him--i mus' give him free." he tapped his breast. "it is here to mak' him free." he still tapped his breast. for a moment she stood frozen still, her face thin and drawn and white; then suddenly the blood rushed back into her face, and a red storm raged in her eyes. she thought of the sister, younger than herself, whom rube haman had married and driven to her grave within a year--the sweet lucy, with the name of her father's mother. lucy had been all english in face and tongue, a flower of the west, driven to darkness by this horse-dealing brute, who, before he was arrested and tried for murder, was about to marry kate wimper. kate wimper had stolen him from lucy before lucy's first and only child was born, the child that could not survive the warm mother-life withdrawn, and so had gone down the valley whither the broken-hearted mother had fled. it was kate wimper, who, before that, had waylaid the one man for whom she herself had ever cared, and drawn him from her side by such attractions as she herself would keep for an honest wife, if such she ever chanced to be. an honest wife she would have been had kate wimper not crossed the straight path of her life. the man she had loved was gone to his end also, reckless and hopeless, after he had thrown away his chance of a lifetime with loisette alroyd. there had been left behind this girl, to whom tragedy had come too young, who drank humiliation with a heart as proud as ever straightly set its course through crooked ways. it had hurt her, twisted her nature a little, given a fountain of bitterness to her soul, which welled up and flooded her life sometimes. it had given her face no sourness, but it put a shadow into her eyes. she had been glad when haman was condemned for murder, for she believed he had committed it, and ten times hanging could not compensate for that dear life gone from their sight--lucy, the pride of her father's heart. she was glad when haman was condemned, because of the woman who had stolen him from lucy, because of that other man, her lover, gone out of her own life. the new hardness in her rejoiced that now the woman, if she had any heart at all, must have it bowed down by this supreme humiliation and wrung by the ugly tragedy of the hempen rope. and now this man before her, this man with a boy's face, with the dark, luminous eyes, whom she had saved from the frozen plains, he had that in his breast which would free haman, so he had said. a fury had its birth in her at that moment. something seemed to seize her brain and master it, something so big that it held all her faculties in perfect control, and she felt herself in an atmosphere where all life moved round her mechanically, she herself the only sentient thing, so much greater than all she saw, or all that she realized by her subconscious self. everything in the world seemed small. how calm it was even with the fury within! "tell me," she said, quietly--"tell me how you are able to save haman?" "he not kill wakely. it is my brudder fadette dat kill and get away. haman he is drunk, and everyt'ing seem to say haman he did it, an' every one know haman is not friend to wakely. so the juree say he must be hanging. but my brudder he go to die with hawful bad cold queeck, an' he send for the priest an' for me, an' tell all. i go to governor with the priest, an' governor gif me dat writing here." he tapped his breast, then took out a wallet and showed the paper to her. "it is life of dat haman, _voici_! and so i safe him for my brudder. dat was a bad boy, fadette. he was bad all time since he was a baby, an' i t'ink him pretty lucky to die on his bed, an' get absolve, and go to purgatore. if he not have luck like dat he go to hell, an' stay there." he sighed, and put the wallet back in his breast carefully, his eyes half shut with weariness, his handsome face drawn and thin, his limbs lax with fatigue. "if i get askatoon before de time for _dat_, i be happy in my heart, for dat brudder off mine he get out of purgatore bime-bye, i t'ink." his eyes were almost shut, but he drew himself together with a great effort, and added desperately: "no sleep. if i sleep it is all smash. man say me i can get askatoon by dat time from here, if i go queeck way across lak'--it is all froze now, dat lak'--an' down dat foxtail hills. is it so, ma'm'selle?" "by the 'quick' way if you can make it in time," she said; "but it is no way for the stranger to go. there are always bad spots on the ice--it is not safe. you could not find your way." "i mus' get dere in time," he said, desperately. "you can't do it--alone," she said. "do you want to risk all and lose?" he frowned in self-suppression. "long way, i no can get dere in time?" he asked. she thought a moment. "no; it can't be done by the long way. but there is another way--a third trail, the trail the gover'ment men made a year ago when they came to survey. it is a good trail. it is blazed in the woods and staked on the plains. you cannot miss. but--but there is so little time." she looked at the clock on the wall. "you cannot leave here much before sunrise, and--" "i will leef when de moon rise, at eleven," he interjected. "you have had no sleep for two nights, and no food. you can't last it out," she said, calmly. the deliberate look on his face deepened to stubbornness. "it is my vow to my brudder--he is in purgatore. an' i mus' do it," he rejoined, with an emphasis there was no mistaking. "you can show me dat way?" she went to a drawer and took out a piece of paper. then, with a point of blackened stick, as he watched her and listened, she swiftly drew his route for him. "yes, i get it in my head," he said. "i go dat way, but i wish--i wish it was dat queeck way. i have no fear, not'ing. i go w'en dat moon rise--i go, _bien sã»r._" "you must sleep, then, while i get some food for you." she pointed to a couch in a corner. "i will wake you when the moon rises." for the first time he seemed to realize her, for a moment to leave the thing which consumed him, and put his mind upon her. "you not happy--you not like me here?" he asked, simply; then added, quickly, "i am not bad man like me brudder--no." her eyes rested on him for a moment as though realizing him, while some thought was working in her mind behind. "no, you are not a bad man," she said. "men and women are equal on the plains. you have no fear--i have no fear." he glanced at the rifles on the walls, then back at her. "my mudder, she was good woman. i am glad she did not lif to know what fadette do." his eyes drank her in for a minute, then he said: "i go sleep now, t'ank you--till moontime." in a moment his deep breathing filled the room, the only sound save for the fire within and the frost outside. time went on. the night deepened. * * * * * loisette sat beside the fire, but her body was half-turned from it toward the man on the sofa. she was not agitated outwardly, but within there was that fire which burns up life and hope and all the things that come between us and great issues. it had burned up everything in her except one thought, one powerful motive. she had been deeply wronged, and justice had been about to give "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." but the man lying there had come to sweep away the scaffolding of justice--he had come for that. perhaps he might arrive at askatoon before the stroke of the hour, but still he would be too late, for in her pocket now was the governor's reprieve. the man had slept soundly. his wallet was still in his breast; but the reprieve was with her. if he left without discovering his loss, and got well on his way, and discovered it then, it would be too late. if he returned--she only saw one step before her, she would wait for that, and deal with it when it came. she was thinking of lucy, of her own lover ruined and gone. she was calm in her madness. at the first light of the moon she roused him. she had put food into his fur-coat pocket, and after he had drunk a bowl of hot pea-soup, while she told him his course again, she opened the door, and he passed out into the night. he started forward without a word, but came back again and caught her hand. "_pardon_," he said; "i go forget everyt'ing except _dat_. but i t'ink what you do for me, it is better than all my life. _bien sã»r_, i will come again, when i get my mind to myself. ah, but you are beautibul," he said, "an' you not happy. well, i come again--yes, _ã  dieu._" he was gone into the night, with the moon silvering the sky, and the steely frost eating into the sentient life of this northern world. inside the house, with the bearskin blind dropped at the window again, and the fire blazing high, loisette sat with the governor's reprieve in her hand. looking at it, she wondered why it had been given to ba'tiste caron and not to a police-officer. ah yes, it was plain--ba'tiste was a woodsman and plainsman, and could go far more safely than a constable, and faster. ba'tiste had reason for going fast, and he would travel night and day--he was travelling night and day indeed. and now ba'tiste might get there, but the reprieve would not. he would not be able to stop the hanging of haman--the hanging of rube haman. a change came over her. her eyes blazed, her breast heaved now. she had been so quiet, so cold and still. but life seemed moving in her once again. the woman, kate wimper, who had helped to send two people to their graves, would now drink the dregs of shame, if she was capable of shame--would be robbed of her happiness, if so be she loved rube haman. she stood up, as though to put the paper in the fire, but paused suddenly at one thought--_rube haman was innocent of murder._ even so, he was not innocent of lucy's misery and death, or the death of the little one who only opened its eyes to the light for an instant, and then went into the dark again. but truly she was justified! when haman was gone things would go on just the same--and she had been so bitter, her heart had been pierced as with a knife these past three years. again she held out her hand to the fire, but suddenly she gave a little cry and put her hand to her head. there was ba'tiste! what was ba'tiste to her? nothing--nothing at all. she had saved his life--even if she wronged ba'tiste, her debt would be paid. no, she would not think of ba'tiste. yet she did not put the paper in the fire, but in the pocket of her dress. then she went to her room, leaving the door open. the bed was opposite the fire, and, as she lay there--she did not take off her clothes, she knew not why--she could see the flames. she closed her eyes but could not sleep, and more than once when she opened them she thought she saw ba'tiste sitting there as he had sat hours before. why did ba'tiste haunt her so? what was it he had said in his broken english as he went away?--that he would come back; that she was "beautibul." all at once as she lay still, her head throbbing, her feet and hands icy cold, she sat up listening. "ah--again!" she cried. she sprang from her bed, rushed to the door, and strained her eyes into the silver night. she called into the icy void, "_qui va lã ?_ who goes?" she leaned forward, her hand at her ear, but no sound came in reply. once more she called, but nothing answered. the night was all light and frost and silence. she had only heard, in her own brain, the iteration of ba'tiste's calling. would he reach askatoon in time? she wondered, as she shut the door. why had she not gone with him and attempted the shorter way--the quick way, he had called it? all at once the truth came back upon her, stirring her now. it would do no good for ba'tiste to arrive in time. he might plead to them all and tell the truth about the reprieve, but it would not avail--rube haman would hang. that did not matter--even though he was innocent; but ba'tiste's brother would be so long in purgatory. and even that would not matter; but she would hurt ba'tiste--ba'tiste--ba'tiste! and ba'tiste he would know that she--and he had called her "beautibul"--that she had-with a cry she suddenly clothed herself for travel. she put some food and drink in a leather bag and slung them over her shoulder. then she dropped on a knee and wrote a note to her father, tears falling from her eyes. she heaped wood on the fire and moved toward the door. all at once she turned to the crucifix on the wall which had belonged to her mother, and, though she had followed her father's protestant religion, she kissed the feet of the sacred figure. "oh, christ, have mercy on me, and bring me safe to my journey's end--in time," she said, breathlessly; then she went softly to the door, leaving the dog behind. it opened, closed, and the night swallowed her. like a ghost she sped the quick way to askatoon. she was six hours behind ba'tiste, and, going hard all the time, it was doubtful if she could get there before the fatal hour. on the trail ba'tiste had taken there were two huts where he could rest, and he had carried his blanket slung on his shoulder. the way she went gave no shelter save the trees and caves which had been used to _cã¢che_ buffalo meat and hides in old days. but beyond this there was danger in travelling by night, for the springs beneath the ice of the three lakes she must cross made it weak and rotten even in the fiercest weather, and what would no doubt have been death to ba'tiste would be peril at least to her. why had she not gone with him? "he had in his face what was in lucy's," she said to herself, as she sped on. "she was fine like him, ready to break her heart for those she cared for. my, if she had seen him first instead of--" she stopped short, for the ice gave way to her foot, and she only sprang back in time to save herself. but she trotted on, mile after mile, the dog-trot of the indian, head bent forward, toeing in, breathing steadily but sharply. the morning came, noon, then a fall of snow and a keen wind, and despair in her heart; but she had passed the danger-spots, and now, if the storm did not overwhelm her, she might get to askatoon in time. in the midst of the storm she came to one of the caves of which she had known. here was wood for a fire, and here she ate, and in weariness unspeakable fell asleep. when she waked it was near sundown, the storm had ceased, and, as on the night before, the sky was stained with color and drowned in splendor. "i will do it--i will do it, ba'tiste!" she called, and laughed aloud into the sunset. she had battled with herself all the way, and she had conquered. right was right, and rube haman must not be hung for what he did not do. her heart hardened whenever she thought of the woman, but softened again when she thought of ba'tiste, who had to suffer for the deed of a brother in "purgatore." once again the night and its silence and loneliness followed her, the only living thing near the trail till long after midnight. after that, as she knew, there were houses here and there where she might have rested, but she pushed on unceasing. at daybreak she fell in with a settler going to askatoon with his dogs. seeing how exhausted she was, he made her ride a few miles upon his sledge; then she sped on ahead again till she came to the borders of askatoon. people were already in the streets, and all were tending one way. she stopped and asked the time. it was within a quarter of an hour of the time when haman was to pay another's penalty. she spurred herself on, and came to the jail blind with fatigue. as she neared the jail she saw her father and mickey. in amazement her father hailed her, but she would not stop. she was admitted to the prison on explaining that she had a reprieve. entering a room filled with excited people, she heard a cry. it came from ba'tiste. he had arrived but ten minutes before, and, in the sheriff's presence, had discovered his loss. he had appealed in vain. but now, as he saw the girl, he gave a shout of joy which pierced the hearts of all. "ah, you haf it! say you haf it, or it is no use--he mus' hang. spik--spik! ah, my brudder--it is to do him right! ah, loisette--_bon dieu, merci!_" for answer she placed the reprieve in the hands of the sheriff. then she swayed and fell fainting at the feet of ba'tiste. she had come at the stroke of the hour. when she left for her home again the sheriff kissed her. and that was not the only time he kissed her. he did it again six months later, at the beginning of the harvest, when she and ba'tiste caron started off on the long trail of life together. none but ba'tiste knew the truth about the loss of the reprieve, and to him she was "beautibul" just the same, and greatly to be desired. [illustration: she swayed and fell fainting at the feet of ba'tiste] buckmaster's boy "i bin waitin' for him, an' i'll git him ef it takes all winter. i'll get him--plumb." the speaker smoothed the barrel of his rifle with mittened hand, which had, however, a trigger-finger free. with black eyebrows twitching over sunken gray eyes, he looked doggedly down the frosty valley from the ledge of high rock where he sat. the face was rough and weather-beaten, with the deep tan got in the open life of a land of much sun and little cloud, and he had a beard which, untrimmed and growing wild, made him look ten years older than he was. "i bin waitin' a durn while," the mountain-man added, and got to his feet slowly, drawing himself out to six and a half feet of burly manhood. the shoulders were, however, a little stooped, and the head was thrust forward with an eager, watchful look--a habit become a physical characteristic. presently he caught sight of a hawk sailing southward along the peaks of the white icebound mountains above, on which the sun shone with such sharp insistence, making sky and mountain of a piece in deep purity and serene stillness. "that hawk's seen him, mebbe," he said, after a moment. "i bet it went up higher when it got him in its eye. ef it'd only speak and tell me where he is--ef he's a day, or two days, or ten days north." suddenly his eyes blazed and his mouth opened in superstitious amazement, for the hawk stopped almost directly overhead at a great height, and swept round in a circle many times, waveringly, uncertainly. at last it resumed its flight southward, sliding down the mountains like a winged star. the mountaineer watched it with a dazed expression for a moment longer, then both hands clutched the rifle and half swung it to position involuntarily. "it's seen him, and it stopped to say so. it's seen him, i tell you, an' i'll git him. ef it's an hour, or a day, or a week, it's all the same. i'm here watchin', waitin' dead on to him, the poison skunk!" the person to whom he had been speaking now rose from the pile of cedar boughs where he had been sitting, stretched his arms up, then shook himself into place, as does a dog after sleep. he stood for a minute looking at the mountaineer with a reflective yet a furtively sardonic look. he was not above five feet nine inches in height, and he was slim and neat; and though his buckskin coat and breeches were worn and even frayed in spots, he had an air of some distinction and of concentrated force. it was a face that men turned to look at twice and shook their heads in doubt afterward--a handsome, worn, secretive face, in as perfect control as the strings of an instrument under the bow of a great artist. it was the face of a man without purpose in life beyond the moment--watchful, careful, remorselessly determined, an adventurer's asset, the dial-plate of a hidden machinery. now he took the handsome meerschaum pipe from his mouth, from which he had been puffing smoke slowly, and said in a cold, yet quiet voice, "how long you been waitin', buck?" "a month. he's overdue near that. he always comes down to winter at fort o' comfort, with his string of half-breeds, an' injuns, an' the dogs." "no chance to get him at the fort?" "it ain't so certain. they'd guess what i was doin' there. it's surer here. he's got to come down the trail, an' when i spot him by the juniper clump"--he jerked an arm toward a spot almost a mile farther up the valley--"i kin scoot up the underbrush a bit and git him--plumb. i could do it from here, sure, but i don't want no mistake. once only, jest one shot, that's all i want, sinnet." he bit off a small piece of tobacco from a black plug sinnet offered him, and chewed it with nervous fierceness, his eyebrows working, as he looked at the other eagerly. deadly as his purpose was, and grim and unvarying as his vigil had been, the loneliness had told on him, and he had grown hungry for a human face and human companionship. why sinnet had come he had not thought to inquire. why sinnet should be going north instead of south had not occurred to him. he only realized that sinnet was not the man he was waiting for with murder in his heart; and all that mattered to him in life was the coming of his victim down the trail. he had welcomed sinnet with a sullen eagerness, and had told him in short, detached sentences the dark story of a wrong and a waiting revenge, which brought a slight flush to sinnet's pale face and awakened a curious light in his eyes. "is that your shack--that where you shake down?" sinnet said, pointing toward a lean-to in the fir-trees to trees to the right. "that's it. i sleep there. it's straight on to the juniper clump, the front door is." he laughed viciously, grimly. "outside or inside, i'm on to the juniper clump. walk into the parlor?" he added, and drew open a rough-made door, so covered with green cedar boughs that it seemed of a piece with the surrounding underbrush and trees. indeed, the little hut was so constructed that it could not be distinguished from the woods even a short distance away. "can't have a fire, i suppose?" sinnet asked. "not daytimes. smoke 'd give me away if he suspicioned me," answered the mountaineer. "i don't take no chances. never can tell." "water?" asked sinnet, as though interested in the surroundings, while all the time he was eying the mountaineer furtively--as it were, prying to the inner man, or measuring the strength of the outer man. he lighted a fresh pipe and seated himself on a rough bench beside the table in the middle of the room, and leaned on his elbows, watching. the mountaineer laughed. it was not a pleasant laugh to hear. "listen," he said. "you bin a long time out west. you bin in the mountains a good while. listen." there was silence. sinnet listened intently. he heard the faint drip, drip, drip of water, and looked steadily at the back wall of the room. "there--rock?" he said, and jerked his head toward the sound. "you got good ears," answered the other, and drew aside a blanket which hung on the back wall of the room. a wooden trough was disclosed hanging under a ledge of rock, and water dripped into it softly, slowly. "almost providential, that rock," remarked sinnet. "you've got your well at your back door. food--but you can't go far, and keep your eye on the bend too," he nodded toward the door, beyond which lay the frost-touched valley in the early morning light of autumn. "plenty of black squirrels and pigeons come here on account of the springs like this one, and i get 'em with a bow and arrow. i didn't call myself robin hood and daniel boone not for nothin' when i was knee-high to a grasshopper." he drew from a rough cupboard some cold game, and put it on the table, with some scones and a pannikin of water. then he brought out a small jug of whiskey and placed it beside his visitor. they began to eat. "how d'ye cook without fire?" asked sinnet. "fire's all right at nights. he'd never camp 'twixt here an' juniper bend at night. the next camp's six miles north from here. he'd only come down the valley daytimes. i studied it all out, and it's a dead sure thing. from daylight till dusk i'm on to him--i got the trail in my eye." he showed his teeth like a wild dog, as his look swept the valley. there was something almost revolting in his concentrated ferocity. sinnet's eyes half closed as he watched the mountaineer, and the long, scraggy hands and whipcord neck seemed to interest him greatly. he looked at his own slim, brown hands with a half smile, and it was almost as cruel as the laugh of the other. yet it had, too, a knowledge and an understanding which gave it humanity. "you're sure he did it?" sinnet asked, presently, after drinking a very small portion of liquor, and tossing some water from the pannikin after it. "you're sure greevy killed your boy, buck?" "my name's buckmaster, ain't it--jim buckmaster? don't i know my own name? it's as sure as that. my boy said it was greevy when he was dying. he told bill ricketts so, and bill told me afore he went east. bill didn't want to tell, but he said it was fair i should know, for my boy never did nobody any harm--an' greevy's livin' on! but i'll git him. right's right." "wouldn't it be better for the law to hang him if you've got the proof, buck? a year or so in jail, an' a long time to think over what's going round his neck on the scaffold--wouldn't that suit you, if you've got the proof?" a rigid, savage look came into buckmaster's face. "i ain't lettin' no judge and jury do my business. i'm for certain sure, not for _p'r'aps_! an' i want to do it myself. clint was only twenty. like boys we was together. i was eighteen when i married, an' he come when _she_ went--jest a year--jest a year. an' ever since then we lived together, him an' me, an' shot together, an' trapped together, an' went gold-washin' together on the cariboo, an' eat out of the same dish, an' slept under the same blanket, and jawed together nights--ever since he was five, when old mother lablache had got him into pants, an' he was fit to take the trail." the old man stopped a minute, his whipcord neck swelling, his lips twitching. he brought a fist down on the table with a bang. "the biggest little rip he was, as full of fun as a squirrel, an' never a smile--jest his eyes dancin', an' more sense than a judge. he laid hold o' me, that cub did--it was like his mother and himself together; an' the years flowin' in an' peterin' out, an' him gettin' older, an' always jest the same. always on rock-bottom, always bright as a dollar, an' we livin' at black nose lake, layin' up cash agin' the time we was to go south, an' set up a house along the railway, an' him to git married. i was for his gittin' married same as me, when we had enough cash. i use to think of that when he was ten, and when he was eighteen i spoke to him about it; but he wouldn't listen--jest laughed at me. you remember how clint used to laugh, sort of low and teasin' like--you remember that laugh o' clint's, don't you?" sinnet's face was toward the valley and juniper bend, but he slowly turned his head and looked at buckmaster strangely out of his half-shut eyes. he took the pipe from his mouth slowly. "i can hear it now," he answered, slowly. "i hear it often, buck." the old man gripped his arm so suddenly that sinnet was startled--in so far as anything could startle any one who had lived a life of chance and danger and accident--and his face grew a shade paler; but he did not move, and buckmaster's hand tightened convulsively. "you liked him, an' he liked you; he first learnt poker off you, sinnet. he thought you was a tough, but he didn't mind that no more than i did. it ain't for us to say what we're goin' to be, not always. things in life git stronger than we are. you was a tough, but who's goin' to judge you? i ain't; for clint took to you, sinnet, an' he never went wrong in his thinkin'. god! he was wife an' child to me--an' he's dead--dead--dead!" the man's grief was a painful thing to see. his hands gripped the table, while his body shook with sobs, though his eyes gave forth no tears. it was an inward convulsion, which gave his face the look of unrelieved tragedy and suffering--laocoon struggling with the serpents of sorrow and hatred which were strangling him. "dead an' gone," he repeated, as he swayed to and fro, and the table quivered in his grasp. presently, however, as though arrested by a thought, he peered out of the doorway toward juniper bend. "that hawk seen him--it seen him. he's comin', i know it, an' i'll git him--plumb." he had the mystery and imagination of the mountain-dweller. the rifle lay against the wall behind him, and he turned and touched it almost caressingly. "i ain't let go like this since he was killed, sinnet. it don't do. i got to keep myself stiddy to do the trick when the minute comes. at first i usen't to sleep at nights, thinkin' of clint, an' missin' him, an' i got shaky and no good. so i put a cinch on myself, an' got to sleepin' again--from the full dusk to dawn, for greevy wouldn't take the trail at night. i've kept stiddy." he held out his hand as though to show that it was firm and steady, but it trembled with the emotion which had conquered him. he saw it, and shook his head angrily. "it was seein' you, sinnet. it burst me. i ain't seen no one to speak to in a month, an' with you sittin' there, it was like clint an' me cuttin' and comin' again off the loaf an' the knuckle-bone of ven'son." sinnet ran a long finger slowly across his lips, and seemed meditating what he should say to the mountaineer. at length he spoke, looking into buckmaster's face: "what was the story ricketts told you? what did your boy tell ricketts? i've heard, too, about it, and that's why i asked you if you had proofs that greevy killed clint. of course, clint should know, and if he told ricketts, that's pretty straight; but i'd like to know if what i heard tallies with what ricketts heard from clint. p'r'aps it'd ease your mind a bit to tell it. i'll watch the bend--don't you trouble about that. you can't do these two things at one time. i'll watch for greevy; you give me clint's story to ricketts. i guess you know i'm feelin' for you, an' if i was in your place i'd shoot the man that killed clint, if it took ten years. i'd have his heart's blood--all of it. whether greevy was in the right or in the wrong, i'd have him--_plumb_." buckmaster was moved. he gave a fierce exclamation and made a gesture of cruelty. "clint right or wrong? there ain't no question of that. my boy wasn't the kind to be in the wrong. what did he ever do but what was right? if clint was in the wrong i'd kill greevy jest the same, for greevy robbed him of all the years that was before him--only a sapling he was, an' all his growin' to do, all his branches to widen an' his roots to spread. but that don't enter in it, his bein' in the wrong. it was a quarrel, and clint never did greevy any harm. it was a quarrel over cards, an' greevy was drunk, an' followed clint out into the prairie in the night and shot him like a coyote. clint hadn't no chance, an' he jest lay there on the ground till morning, when ricketts and steve joicey found him. an' clint told ricketts who it was." "why didn't ricketts tell it right out at once?" asked sinnet. "greevy was his own cousin--it was in the family, an' he kept thinkin' of greevy's gal, em'ly. her--what'll it matter to her? she'll get married, an she'll forgit. i know her, a gal that's got no deep feelin' like clint had for me. but because of her ricketts didn't speak for a year. then he couldn't stand it any longer, an' he told me--seein' how i suffered, an' everybody hidin' their suspicions from me, an' me up here out o' the way, an' no account. that was the feelin' among 'em: what was the good of making things worse? they wasn't thinkin' of the boy or of jim buckmaster, his father. they was thinkin' of greevy's gal--to save her trouble." sinnet's face was turned toward juniper bend, and the eyes were fixed, as it were, on a still more distant object--a dark, brooding, inscrutable look. "was that all ricketts told you, buck?" the voice was very quiet, but it had a suggestive note. "that's all clint told bill before he died. that was enough." there was a moment's pause, and then, puffing out long clouds of smoke, and in a tone of curious detachment, as though he were telling something that he saw now in the far distance, or as a spectator of a battle from a far vantage-point might report to a blind man standing near, sinnet said: "p'r'aps ricketts didn't know the whole story; p'r'aps clint didn't know it all to tell him; p'r'aps clint didn't remember it all. p'r'aps he didn't remember anything except that he and greevy quarrelled, and that greevy and he shot at each other in the prairie. he'd only be thinking of the thing that mattered most to him--that his life was over, an' that a man had put a bullet in him, an'--" buckmaster tried to interrupt him, but he waved a hand impatiently, and continued: "as i say, maybe he didn't remember everything; he had been drinkin' a bit himself, clint had. he wasn't used to liquor, and couldn't stand much. greevy was drunk, too, and gone off his head with rage. he always gets drunk when he first comes south to spend the winter with his girl em'ly." he paused a moment, then went on a little more quickly. "greevy was proud of her--couldn't even bear her being crossed in any way; and she has a quick temper, and if she quarrelled with anybody greevy quarrelled too." "i don't want to know anything about her," broke in buckmaster, roughly. "she isn't in this thing. i'm goin' to get greevy. i bin waitin' for him, an' i'll git him." "you're going to kill the man that killed your boy, if you can, buck; but i'm telling my story in my own way. you told rickett's story; i'll tell what i've heard. and before you kill greevy you ought to know all there is that anybody else knows--or suspicions about it." "i know enough. greevy done it, an' i'm here." with no apparent coherence and relevancy sinnet continued, but his voice was not so even as before. "em'ly was a girl that wasn't twice alike. she was changeable. first it was one, then it was another, and she didn't seem to be able to fix her mind. but that didn't prevent her leadin' men on. she wasn't changeable, though, about her father. she was to him what your boy was to you. there she was like you, ready to give everything up for her father." "i tell y' i don't want to hear about her," said buckmaster, getting to his feet and setting his jaws. "you needn't talk to me about her. she'll git over it. i'll never git over what greevy done to me or to clint--jest twenty, jest twenty! i got my work to do." he took his gun from the wall, slung it into the hollow of his arm, and turned to look up the valley through the open doorway. the morning was sparkling with life--the life and vigor which a touch of frost gives to the autumn world in a country where the blood tingles to the dry, sweet sting of the air. beautiful, and spacious, and buoyant, and lonely, the valley and the mountains seemed waiting, like a new-born world, to be peopled by man. it was as though all had been made ready for him--the birds whistling and singing in the trees, the whisk of the squirrels leaping from bough to bough, the peremptory sound of the woodpecker's beak against the bole of a tree, the rustle of the leaves as a wood-hen ran past--a waiting, virgin world. its beauty and its wonderful dignity had no appeal to buckmaster. his eyes and mind were fixed on a deed which would stain the virgin wild with the ancient crime that sent the first marauder on human life into the wilderness. as buckmaster's figure darkened the doorway sinnet seemed to waken as from a dream, and he got swiftly to his feet. "wait--you wait, buck. you've got to hear all. you haven't heard my story yet. wait, i tell you." his voice was so sharp and insistent, so changed, that buckmaster turned from the doorway and came back into the room. "what's the use of my hearin'? you want me not to kill greevy, because of that gal. what's she to me?" "nothing to you, buck, but clint was everything to her." the mountaineer stood like one petrified. "what's that--what's that you say? it's a damn lie!" "it wasn't cards--the quarrel, not the real quarrel. greevy found clint kissing her. greevy wanted her to marry gatineau, the lumber-king. that was the quarrel." a snarl was on the face of buckmaster. "then she'll not be sorry when i git him. it took clint from her as well as from me." he turned to the door again. "but, wait, buck, wait one minute and hear--" he was interrupted by a low, exultant growl, and he saw buckmaster's rifle clutched as a hunter, stooping, clutches his gun to fire on his prey. "quick, the spy-glass!" he flung back at sinnet. "it's him, but i'll make sure." sinnet caught the telescope from the nails where it hung, and looked out toward juniper bend. "it's greevy--and his girl, and the half-breeds," he said, with a note in his voice that almost seemed agitation, and yet few had ever seen sinnet agitated. "em'ly must have gone up the trail in the night." "it's my turn now," the mountaineer said, hoarsely, and, stooping, slid away quickly into the undergrowth. sinnet followed, keeping near him, neither speaking. for a half mile they hastened on, and now and then buckmaster drew aside the bushes, and looked up the valley, to keep greevy and his _bois brã»lã©es_ in his eye. just so had he and his son and sinnet stalked the wapiti and the red deer along these mountains; but this was a man that buckmaster was stalking now, with none of the joy of the sport which had been his since a lad; only the malice of the avenger. the lust of a mountain feud was on him; he was pursuing the price of blood. at last buckmaster stopped at a ledge of rock just above the trail. greevy would pass below, within three hundred yards of his rifle. he turned to sinnet with cold and savage eyes. "you go back," he said. "it's my business. i don't want you to see. you don't want to see, then you won't know, and you won't need to lie. you said that the man that killed clint ought to die. he's going to die, but it's none o' your business. i want to be alone. in a minute he'll be where i kin git him--plumb. you go, sinnet--right off. it's my business." there was a strange, desperate look in sinnet's face; it was as hard as stone, but his eyes had a light of battle in them. "it's my business right enough, buck," he said, "and you're not going to kill greevy. that girl of his has lost her lover, your boy. it's broke her heart almost, and there's no use making her an orphan too. she can't stand it. she's had enough. you leave her father alone--you hear me, let up!" he stepped between buckmaster and the ledge of rock from which the mountaineer was to take aim. there was a terrible look in buckmaster's face. he raised his single-barrelled rifle, as though he would shoot sinnet; but, at the moment, he remembered that a shot would warn greevy, and that he might not have time to reload. he laid his rifle against a tree swiftly. "git away from here," he said, with a strange rattle in his throat. "git away quick; he'll be down past here in a minute." sinnet pulled himself together as he saw buckmaster snatch at a great clasp-knife in his belt. he jumped and caught buckmaster's wrist in a grip like a vise. "greevy didn't kill him, buck," he said. but the mountaineer was gone mad, and did not grasp the meaning of the words. he twined his left arm round the neck of sinnet, and the struggle began, he fighting to free sinnet's hand from his wrist, to break sinnet's neck. he did not realize what he was doing. he only knew that this man stood between him and the murderer of his boy, and all the ancient forces of barbarism were alive in him. little by little they drew to the edge of the rock, from which there was a sheer drop of two hundred feet. sinnet fought like a panther for safety, but no sane man's strength could withstand the demoniacal energy that bent and crushed him. sinnet felt his strength giving. then he said, in a hoarse whisper: "greevy didn't kill him. i killed him, and--" at that moment he was borne to the ground with a hand on his throat, and an instant after the knife went home. buckmaster got to his feet and looked at his victim for an instant, dazed and wild; then he sprang for his gun. as he did so the words that sinnet had said as they struggled rang in his ears, "_greevy didn't kill him; i killed him_!" he gave a low cry and turned back toward sinnet, who lay in a pool of blood. sinnet was speaking. he went and stooped over him. [illustration: little by little they drew to the edge of the rock] "em'ly threw me over for clint," the voice said, huskily, "and i followed to have it out with clint. so did greevy, but greevy was drunk. i saw them meet. i was hid. i saw that clint would kill greevy, and i fired. i was off my head--i'd never cared for any woman before, and greevy was her father. clint was off his head too. he had called me names that day--a cardsharp, and a liar, and a thief, and a skunk, he called me, and i hated him just then. greevy fired twice--wide. he didn't know but what he killed clint, but he didn't. i did. so i tried to stop you, buck--" life was going fast, and speech failed him; but he opened his eyes again and whispered: "i didn't want to die, buck. i am only thirty-five, and it's too soon; but it had to be. don't look that way, buck. you got the man that killed him--plumb. but em'ly didn't play fair with me--made a fool of me, the only time in my life i ever cared for a woman. you leave greevy alone, buck, and tell em'ly for me i wouldn't let you kill her father." "you--sinnet--you, you done it! why, he'd have fought for you. you--done it--to him--to clint!" now that the blood-feud had been satisfied, a great change came over the mountaineer. he had done his work, and the thirst for vengeance was gone. greevy he had hated, but this man had been with him in many a winter's hunt. his brain could hardly grasp the tragedy--it had all been too sudden. suddenly he stooped down. "sinnet," he said, "ef there was a woman in it, that makes all the difference. sinnet, ef--" but sinnet was gone upon a long trail that led into an illimitable wilderness. with a moan the old man ran to the ledge of rock. greevy and his girl were below. "when there's a woman in it--!" he said, in a voice of helplessness and misery, and watched her till she disappeared from view. then he turned, and, lifting up in his arms the man he had killed, carried him into the deeper woods. to-morrow i "my, nothing's the matter with the world to-day! it's so good it almost hurts." she raised her head from the white petticoat she was ironing, and gazed out of the doorway and down the valley with a warm light in her eyes and a glowing face. the snow-tipped mountains far above and away, the fir-covered, cedar-ranged foothills, and, lower down, the wonderful maple and ash woods, with their hundred autumn tints, all merging to one soft, red tone, the roar of the stream tumbling down the ravine from the heights, the air that braced the nerves like wine--it all seemed to be part of her, the passion of life corresponding to the passion of living in her. after watching the scene dreamily for a moment, she turned and laid the iron she had been using upon the hot stove near. taking up another, she touched it with a moistened finger to test the heat, and, leaning above the table again, passed it over the linen for a few moments, smiling at something that was in her mind. presently she held the petticoat up, turned it round, then hung it in front of her, eying it with critical pleasure. "_to-morrow!_" she said, nodding at it. "you won't be seen, i suppose, but _i'll_ know you're nice enough for a queen--and that's enough to know." she blushed a little, as though some one had heard her words and was looking at her, then she carefully laid the petticoat over the back of a chair. "no queen's got one whiter, if i do say it," she continued, tossing her head. in that, at any rate, she was right, for the water of the mountain springs was pure, the air was clear, and the sun was clarifying; and little ornamented or frilled as it was, the petticoat was exquisitely soft and delicate. it would have appealed to more eyes than a woman's. "to-morrow!" she nodded at it again and turned again to the bright world outside. with arms raised and hands resting against the timbers of the doorway, she stood dreaming. a flock of pigeons passed with a whir not far away, and skirted the woods making down the valley. she watched their flight abstractedly, yet with a subconscious sense of pleasure. life--they were life, eager, buoyant, belonging to this wild region, where still the heart could feel so much at home, where the great world was missed so little. suddenly, as she gazed, a shot rang out down the valley, and two of the pigeons came tumbling to the ground, a stray feather floating after. with a startled exclamation she took a step forward. her brain became confused and disturbed. she had looked out on eden, and it had been ravaged before her eyes. she had been thinking of to-morrow, and this vast prospect of beauty and serenity had been part of the pageant in which it moved. not the valley alone had been marauded, but that "to-morrow," and all it meant to her. instantly the valley had become clouded over for her, its glory and its grace despoiled. she turned back to the room where the white petticoat lay upon the chair, but stopped with a little cry of alarm. a man was standing in the centre of the room. he had entered stealthily by the back door, and had waited for her to turn round. he was haggard and travel-stained, and there was a feverish light in his eyes. his fingers trembled as they adjusted his belt, which seemed too large for him. mechanically he buckled it tighter. "you're jenny long, ain't you?" he asked. "i beg pardon for sneakin' in like this, but they're after me, some ranchers and a constable--one o' the riders of the plains. i've been tryin' to make this house all day. you're jenny long, ain't you?" she had plenty of courage, and, after the first instant of shock, she had herself in hand. she had quickly observed his condition, had marked the candor of the eye and the decision and character of the face, and doubt of him found no place in her mind. she had the keen observation of the dweller in lonely places, where every traveller has the potentialities of a foe, while the door of hospitality is opened to him after the custom of the wilds. year in, year out, since she was a little girl and came to live here with her uncle sanger when her father died--her mother had gone before she could speak--travellers had halted at this door, going north or coming south, had had bite and sup, and bed, maybe, and had passed on, most of them never to be seen again. more than that, too, there had been moments of peril, such as when, alone, she had faced two wood-thieves with a revolver, as they were taking her mountain-pony with them, and herself had made them "hands-up," and had marched them into a prospector's camp five miles away. she had no doubt about the man before her. whatever he had done, it was nothing dirty or mean--of that she was sure. "yes, i'm jenny long," she answered. "what have you done? what are they after you for?" [illustration: "they shot me an' hurt me"] "oh! to-morrow," he answered--"to-morrow i got to git to bindon. it's life or death. i come from prospecting two hundred miles up north. i done it in two days and a half. my horse dropped dead--i'm near dead myself. i tried to borrow another horse up at clancey's, and at scotton's drive, but they didn't know me, and they bounced me. so i borrowed a horse off weigall's paddock, to make for here--to you. i didn't mean to keep that horse. hell, i'm no horse-stealer! but i couldn't explain to them, except that i had to git to bindon to save a man's life. if people laugh in your face, it's no use explainin'. i took a roan from weigall's, and they got after me. 'bout six miles up they shot at me an' hurt me." she saw that one arm hung limp at his side and that his wrist was wound with a red bandana. she started forward. "are you hurt bad? can i bind it up or wash it for you? i've got plenty of hot water here, and it's bad letting a wound get stale." he shook his head. "i washed the hole clean in the creek below. i doubled on them. i had to go down past your place here, and then work back to be rid of them. but there's no telling when they'll drop onto the game, and come back for me. my only chance was to git to you. even if i had a horse, i couldn't make bindon in time. it's two days round the gorge by trail. a horse is no use now--i lost too much time since last night. i can't git to bindon to-morrow in time, if i ride the trail." "the river?" she asked, abruptly. "it's the only way. it cuts off fifty mile. that's why i come to you." she frowned a little, her face became troubled, and her glance fell on his arm nervously. "what've i got to do with it?" she asked, almost sharply. "even if this was all right"--he touched the wounded arm--"i couldn't take the rapids in a canoe. i don't know them, an' it would be sure death. that's not the worst, for there's a man at bindon would lose his life--p'r'aps twenty men--i dunno; but one man sure. to-morrow, it's go or stay with him. he was good--lord, but he was good!--to my little gal years back. she'd only been married to me a year when he saved her, riskin' his own life. no one else had the pluck. my little gal, only twenty she was, an' pretty as a picture, an' me fifty miles away when the fire broke out in the hotel where she was. he'd have gone down to hell for a friend, an' he saved my little gal. i had her for five years after that. that's why i got to git to bindon to-morrow. if i don't, i don't want to see to-morrow. i got to go down the river to-night." she knew what he was going to ask her. she knew he was thinking what all the north knew, that she was the first person to take the dog nose rapids in a canoe, down the great river scarce a stone's-throw from her door; and that she had done it in safety many times. not in all the west and north were there a half dozen people who could take a canoe to bindon, and they were not here. she knew that he meant to ask her to paddle him down the swift stream, with its murderous rocks, to bindon. she glanced at the white petticoat on the chair, and her lips tightened. to-morrow--to-morrow was as much to her here as it would be to this man before her, or the man he would save at bindon. "what do you want?" she asked, hardening her heart. "can't you see? i want you to hide me here till to-night. there's a full moon, an' it would be as plain goin' as by day. they told me about you up north, and i said to myself, 'if i git to jenny long, an' tell her about my friend at bindon, an' my little gal, she'll take me down to bindon in time.' my little gal would have paid her own debt if she'd ever had the chance. she didn't--she's lying up on mazy mountain. but one woman'll do a lot for the sake of another woman. say, you'll do it, won't you? if i don't git there by to-morrow noon, it's no good." she would not answer. he was asking more than he knew. why should she be sacrificed? was it her duty to pay the "little gal's debt," to save the man at bindon? to-morrow was to be the great day in her own life. the one man in all the world was coming to marry her to-morrow. after four years' waiting, after a bitter quarrel in which both had been to blame, he was coming from the mining town of selby to marry her to-morrow. "what will happen? why will your friend lose his life if you don't get to bindon?" "by noon to-morrow, by twelve o'clock noon; that's the plot; that's what they've schemed. three days ago, i heard. i got a man free from trouble north--he was no good, but i thought he ought to have another chance, and i got him free. he told me of what was to be done at bindon. there'd been a strike in the mine, an' my friend had took it in hand with knuckle-dusters on. he isn't the kind to fell a tree with a jack-knife. then three of the strikers that had been turned away--they was the ringleaders--they laid a plan that'd make the devil sick. they've put a machine in the mine, an' timed it, an' it'll go off when my friend comes out of the mine at noon to-morrow." her face was pale now, and her eyes had a look of pain and horror. her man--him that she was to marry--was the head of a mine also at selby, forty miles beyond bindon, and the horrible plot came home to her with piercing significance. "without a second's warning," he urged, "to go like that, the man that was so good to my little gal, an' me with a chance to save him, an' others too, p'r'aps. you won't let it be. say, i'm pinnin' my faith to you. i'm--" suddenly he swayed. she caught him, held him, and lowered him gently in a chair. presently he opened his eyes. "it's want o' food, i suppose," he said. "if you've got a bit of bread and meat--i must keep up." she went to a cupboard, but suddenly turned toward him again. her ears had caught a sound outside in the underbrush. he had heard also, and he half staggered to his feet. "quick--in here!" she said, and, opening a door, pushed him inside. "lie down on my bed, and i'll bring you vittles as quick as i can," she added. then she shut the door, turned to the ironing-board, and took up the iron, as the figure of a man darkened the doorway. "hello, jinny, fixin' up for to-morrow?" the man said, stepping inside, with a rifle under his arm and some pigeons in his hand. she nodded and gave him an impatient, scrutinizing glance. his face had a fatuous kind of smile. "been celebrating the pigeons?" she asked, dryly, jerking her head toward the two birds, which she had seen drop from her eden skies a short time before. "i only had one swig of whiskey, honest injun!" he answered. "i s'pose i might have waited till to-morrow, but i was dead-beat. i got a bear over by the ten-mile reach, and i was tired. i ain't so young as i used to be, and, anyhow, what's the good? what's ahead of me? you're going to git married to-morrow after all these years we bin together, and you're going down to selby from the mountains, where i won't see you, not once in a blue moon. only that old trollop, mother massy, to look after me." "come down to selby and live there. you'll be welcome by jake and me." he stood his gun in the corner and, swinging the pigeons in his hand, said: "me live out of the mountains! don't you know better than that? i couldn't breathe, and i wouldn't want to breathe. i've got my shack here, i got my fur business, and they're still fond of whiskey up north!" he chuckled to himself, as he thought of the illicit still farther up the mountain behind them. "i make enough to live on, and i've put a few dollars by, though i won't have so many after to-morrow, after i've given you a little pile, jinny." "p'r'aps there won't be any _to-morrow_, as you expect," she said, slowly. the old man started. "what! you and jake ain't quarrelled again? you ain't broke it off at the last moment, same as before? you ain't had a letter from jake?" he looked at the white petticoat on the chair-back, and shook his head in bewilderment. "i've had no letter," she answered. "i've had no letter from selby for a month. it was all settled then, and there was no good writing, when he was coming to-morrow with the minister and the license. who do you think'd be postman from selby here? it must have cost him ten dollars to send the last letter." "then what's the matter? i don't understand," the old man urged, querulously. he did not want her to marry and leave him, but he wanted no more troubles; he did not relish being asked awkward questions by every mountaineer he met as to why jenny long didn't marry jake lawson. "there's only one way that i can be married to-morrow," she said, at last, "and that's by you taking a man down the dog nose rapids to bindon to-night." he dropped the pigeons on the floor, dumfounded. "what in--" he stopped short, in sheer incapacity to go further. jenny had not always been easy to understand, but she was wholly incomprehensible now. she picked up the pigeons and was about to speak, but she glanced at the bedroom door, where her exhausted visitor had stretched himself on her bed, and beckoned her uncle to another room. "there's a plate of vittles ready for you in there," she said. "i'll tell you as you eat." he followed her into the little living-room adorned by the trophies of his earlier achievements with gun and rifle, and sat down at the table, where some food lay covered by a clean white cloth. "no one'll ever look after me as you've done, jinny," he said, as he lifted the cloth and saw the palatable dish ready for him. then he remembered again about to-morrow and the dog nose rapids. "what's it all about, jinny? what's that about my canoeing a man down to bindon?" "eat, uncle," she said, more softly than she had yet spoken, for his words about her care of him had brought a moisture to her eyes. "i'll be back in a minute and tell you all about it." "well, it's about took away my appetite," he said. "i feel a kind of sinking." he took from his pocket a bottle, poured some of its contents into a tin cup, and drank it off. "no, i suppose you couldn't take a man down to bindon," she said, as she saw his hand trembling on the cup. then she turned and entered the other room again. going to the cupboard, she hastily heaped a plate with food, and, taking a dipper of water from a pail near by, she entered her bedroom hastily and placed what she had brought on a small table, as her visitor rose slowly from the bed. he was about to speak, but she made a protesting gesture. "i can't tell you anything yet," she said. "who was it come?" he asked. "my uncle--i'm going to tell him." "the men after me may git here any minute," he urged, anxiously. "they'd not be coming into my room," she answered, flushing slightly. "can't you hide me down by the river till we start?" he asked, his eyes eagerly searching her face. he was assuming that she would take him down the river; but she gave no sign. "i've got to see if he'll take you first?" she answered. "he--your uncle, tom sanger? he drinks, i've heard. he'd never git to bindon." she did not reply directly to his words. "i'll come back and tell you. there's a place you could hide by the river where no one could ever find you," she said, and left the room. as she stepped out, she saw the old man standing in the doorway of the other room. his face was petrified with amazement. "who you got in that room, jinny? what man you got in that room? i heard a man's voice. is it because o' him that you bin talkin' about no weddin' to-morrow? is it one o' the others come back, puttin' you off jake again?" her eyes flashed fire at his first words, and her breast heaved with anger, but suddenly she became composed again and motioned him to a chair. "you eat, and i'll tell you all about it, uncle tom," she said, and, seating herself at the table also, she told him the story of the man who must go to bindon. when she had finished, the old man blinked at her for a minute without speaking, then he said, slowly: "i heard something 'bout trouble down at bindon yisterday from a hudson's bay man goin' north, but i didn't take it in. you've got a lot o' sense, jinny, an' if you think he's tellin' the truth, why, it goes; but it's as big a mixup as a lariat in a steer's horns. you've got to hide him sure, whoever he is, for i wouldn't hand an eskimo over, if i'd taken him in my home once; we're mountain people. a man ought to be hung for horse-stealin', but this was different. he was doing it to save a man's life, an' that man at bindon was good to his little gal, an' she's dead." he moved his head from side to side with the air of a sentimental philosopher. he had all the vanity of a man who had been a success in a small, shrewd, culpable way--had he not evaded the law for thirty years with his whiskey-still? "i know how he felt," he continued. "when betsy died--we was only four years married--i could have crawled into a knot-hole an' died there. you got to save him, jinny, but"--he came suddenly to his feet--"he ain't safe here. they might come any minute, if they've got back on his trail. i'll take him up the gorge. you know where." "you sit still, uncle tom," she rejoined. "leave him where he is a minute. there's things must be settled first. they ain't going to look for him in my bedroom, be they?" the old man chuckled. "i'd like to see 'em at it. you got a temper, jinny; and you got a pistol, too, eh?" he chuckled again. "as good a shot as any in the mountains. i can see you darin' 'em to come on. but what if jake come, and he found a man in your bedroom"--he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes--"why, jinny--" he stopped short, for there was anger in her face. "i don't want to hear any more of that. i do what i want to do," she snapped out. "well, well, you always done what you wanted; but we got to git him up the hills, till it's sure they're out o' the mountains and gone back. it'll be days, mebbe." "uncle tom, you've took too much to drink," she answered. "you don't remember he's got to be at bindon by to-morrow noon. he's got to save his friend by then." "pshaw! who's going to take him down the river to-night? you're goin' to be married to-morrow. if you like, you can give him the canoe. it'll never come back, nor him neither!" "you've been down with me," she responded, suggestively. "and you went down once by yourself." he shook his head. "i ain't been so well this summer. my sight ain't what it was. i can't stand the racket as i once could. 'pears to me i'm gettin' old. no, i couldn't take them rapids, jinny, not for one frozen minute." she looked at him with trouble in her eyes, and her face lost some of its color. she was fighting back the inevitable, even as its shadow fell upon her. "you wouldn't want a man to die, if you could save him, uncle tom--blown up, sent to kingdom come without any warning at all; and perhaps he's got them that love him--and the world so beautiful." "well, it ain't nice dyin' in the summer, when it's all sun, and there's plenty everywhere; but there's no one to go down the river with him. what's his name?" her struggle was over. she had urged him, but in very truth she was urging herself all the time, bringing herself to the axe of sacrifice. "his name's dingley. i'm going down the river with him--down to bindon." the old man's mouth opened in blank amazement. his eyes blinked helplessly. "what you talkin' about, jinny? jake's comin' up with the minister, an' you're goin' to be married at noon to-morrow." "i'm takin' him"--she jerked her head toward the room where dingley was--"down dog nose rapids to-night. he's risked his life for his friend, thinkin' of her that's dead an' gone, and a man's life is a man's life. if it was jake's life in danger, what 'd i think of a woman that could save him, and didn't?" "onct you broke off with jake lawson--the day before you was to be married; an' it's took years to make up an' agree again to be spliced. if jake comes here to-morrow, and you ain't here, what do you think he'll do? the neighbors are comin' for fifty miles round, two is comin' up a hundred miles, and you can't--jinny, you can't do it. i bin sick of answerin' questions all these years 'bout you and jake, an' i ain't goin' through it again. i've told more lies than there's straws in a tick." she flamed out. "then take him down the river yourself--a man to do a man's work. are you afeard to take the risk?" he held out his hands slowly and looked at them. they shook a little. "yes, jinny," he said, sadly, "i'm afeard. i ain't what i was. i made a mistake, jinny. i've took too much whiskey. i'm older than i ought to be. i oughtn't never to have had a whiskey-still, an' i wouldn't have drunk so much. i got money--money for you, jinny, for you an' jake, but i've lost what i'll never git back. i'm afeard to go down the river with him. i'd go smash in the dog nose rapids. i got no nerve. i can't hunt the grizzly any more, nor the puma, jinny. i got to keep to common shootin', now and henceforth, amen! no, i'd go smash in dog nose rapids." she caught his hands impulsively. "don't you fret, uncle tom. you've bin a good uncle to me, and you've bin a good friend, and you ain't the first that's found whiskey too much for him. you ain't got an enemy in the mountains. why, i've got two or three--" "shucks! women--only women whose beaux left 'em to follow after you. that's nothing, an' they'll be your friends fast enough after you're married to-morrow." "i ain't going to be married to-morrow. i'm going down to bindon to-night. if jake's mad, then it's all over, and there'll be more trouble among the women up here." by this time they had entered the other room. the old man saw the white petticoat on the chair. "no woman in the mountains ever had a petticoat like that, jinny. it'd make a dress, it's that pretty an' neat. golly! i'd like to see it on you, with the blue skirt over, and just hitched up a little." "oh, shut up--shut up!" she said, in sudden anger, and caught up the petticoat as though she would put it away; but presently she laid it down again and smoothed it with quick, nervous fingers. "can't you talk sense and leave my clothes alone? if jake comes, and i'm not here, and he wants to make a fuss, and spoil everything, and won't wait, you give him this petticoat. you put it in his arms. i bet you'll have the laugh on him. he's got a temper." "so've you, jinny, dear, so've you," said the old man, laughing. "you're goin' to have your own way, same as ever--same as ever." ii a moon of exquisite whiteness silvering the world, making shadows on the water as though it were sunlight and the daytime, giving a spectral look to the endless array of poplar trees on the banks, glittering on the foam of the rapids. the spangling stars made the arch of the sky like some gorgeous chancel in a cathedral as vast as life and time. like the day which was ended, in which the mountain-girl had found a taste of eden, it seemed too sacred for mortal strife. now and again there came the note of a night-bird, the croak of a frog from the shore; but the serene stillness and beauty of the primeval north was over all. for two hours after sunset it had all been silent and brooding, and then two figures appeared on the bank of the great river. a canoe was softly and hastily pushed out from its hidden shelter under the overhanging bank, and was noiselessly paddled out to mid-stream, dropping down the current meanwhile. it was jenny long and the man who must get to bindon. they had waited till nine o'clock, when the moon was high and full, to venture forth. then dingley had dropped from her bedroom window, had joined her under the trees, and they had sped away, while the man's hunters, who had come suddenly, and before jenny could get him away into the woods, were carousing inside. these had tracked their man back to tom sanger's house, and at first they were incredulous that jenny and her uncle had not seen him. they had prepared to search the house, and one had laid his finger on the latch of her bedroom door; but she had flared out with such anger that, mindful of the supper she had already begun to prepare for them, they had desisted, and the whiskey-jug which the old man brought out distracted their attention. one of their number, known as the man from clancey's had, however, been outside when dingley had dropped from the window, and had seen him from a distance. he had not given the alarm, but had followed, to make the capture by himself. but jenny had heard the stir of life behind them, and had made a sharp dã©tour, so that they had reached the shore and were out in mid-stream before their tracker got to the river. then he called to them to return, but jenny only bent a little lower and paddled on, guiding the canoe toward the safe-channel through the first small rapids leading to the great dog nose rapids. a rifle-shot rang out, and a bullet "pinged" over the water and splintered the side of the canoe where dingley sat. he looked calmly back, and saw the rifle raised again, but did not stir, in spite of jenny's warning to lie down. "he'll not fire on you so long as he can draw a bead on me," he said, quietly. again a shot rang out, and the bullet sang past his head. "if he hits me, you go straight on to bindon," he continued. "never mind about me. go to the snowdrop mine. get there by twelve o'clock, and warn them. don't stop a second for me--" suddenly three shots rang out in succession--tom sanger's house had emptied itself on the bank of the river--and dingley gave a sharp exclamation. "they've hit me, but it's the same arm as before," he growled. "they got no right to fire at me. it's not the law. don't stop," he added, quickly, as he saw her half turn round. now there were loud voices on the shore. old tom sanger was threatening to shoot the first man that fired again, and he would have kept his word. "who you firin' at?" he shouted. "that's my niece, jinny long, an' you let that boat alone. this ain't the land o' lynch law. dingley ain't escaped from gaol. you got no right to fire at him." "no one ever went down dog nose rapids at night," said the man from clancey's, whose shot had got dingley's arm. "there ain't a chance of them doing it. no one's ever done it." the two were in the roaring rapids now, and the canoe was jumping through the foam like a race-horse. the keen eyes on the bank watched the canoe till it was lost in the half-gloom below the first rapids, and then they went slowly back to tom sanger's house. "so there'll be no wedding to-morrow," said the man from clancey's. "funerals, more likely," drawled another. "jinny long's in that canoe, an' she ginerally does what she wants to," said tom sanger, sagely. "well, we done our best, and now i hope they'll get to bindon," said another. sanger passed the jug to him freely. then they sat down and talked of the people who had been drowned in dog nose rapids, and of the last wedding in the mountains. iii it was as the man from clancey's had said, no one had ever gone down dog nose rapids in the night-time, and probably no one but jenny long would have ventured it. dingley had had no idea what a perilous task had been set his rescuer. it was only when the angry roar of the great rapids floated up-stream to them, increasing in volume till they could see the terror of tumbling waters just below, and the canoe shot forward like a snake through the swift, smooth current which would sweep them into the vast caldron, that he realized the terrible hazard of the enterprise. the moon was directly overhead when they drew upon the race of rocks and fighting water and foam. on either side only the shadowed shore, forsaken by the races which had hunted and roamed and ravaged here--not a light, nor any sign of life, or the friendliness of human presence to make their isolation less complete, their danger, as it were, shared by fellow-mortals. bright as the moon was, it was not bright enough for perfect pilotage. never in the history of white men had these rapids been ridden at night-time. as they sped down the flume of the deep, irresistible current, and were launched into the trouble of rocks and water, jenny realized how great their peril was, and how different the track of the waters looked at night-time from daytime. outlines seemed merged, rocks did not look the same, whirlpools had a different vortex, islands of stone had a new configuration. as they sped on, lurching, jumping, piercing a broken wall of wave and spray like a torpedo, shooting an almost sheer fall, she came to rely on a sense of intuition rather than memory, for night had transformed the waters. not a sound escaped either. the man kept his eyes fixed on the woman; the woman scanned the dreadful pathway with eyes deep-set and burning, resolute, vigilant, and yet defiant, too, as though she had been trapped into this track of danger, and was fighting without great hope, but with the temerity and nonchalance of despair. her arms were bare to the shoulder almost, and her face was again and again drenched, but second succeeded second, minute followed minute in a struggle which might well turn a man's hair gray, and now, at last--how many hours was it since they had been cast into this den of roaring waters?--at last, suddenly, over a large fall, and here smooth waters again, smooth and untroubled, and strong and deep. then, and only then, did a word escape either; but the man had passed through torture and unavailing regret, for he realized that he had had no right to bring this girl into such a fight. it was not _her_ friend who was in danger at bindon. her life had been risked without due warrant. "i didn't know, or i wouldn't have asked it," he said, in a low voice. "lord, but you are a wonder--to take that hurdle for no one that belonged to you, and to do it as you've done it. this country will rise to you." he looked back on the raging rapids far behind, and he shuddered. "it was a close call, and no mistake. we must have been within a foot of down-you-go fifty times. but it's all right now, if we can last it out and git there." again he glanced back, then turned to the girl. "it makes me pretty sick to look at it," he continued. "i bin through a lot, but that's as sharp practice as i want." "come here and let me bind up your arm," she answered. "they hit you--the sneaks! are you bleeding much?" he came near her carefully, as she got the big canoe out of the current into quieter water. she whipped the scarf from about her neck, and with his knife ripped up the seam of his sleeve. her face was alive with the joy of conflict and elated with triumph. her eyes were shining. she bathed the wound--the bullet had passed clean through the fleshy part of the arm--and then carefully tied the scarf round it over her handkerchief. "i guess it's as good as a man could do it," she said, at last. "as good as any doctor," he rejoined. "i wasn't talking of your arm," she said. "course not. excuse me. you was talkin' of them rapids, and i've got to say there ain't a man that could have done it and come through like you. i guess the man that marries you'll get more than his share of luck." "i want none of that," she said, sharply, and picked up her paddle again, her eyes flashing anger. he took a pistol from his pocket and offered it to her. "i didn't mean any harm by what i said. take this if you think i won't know how to behave myself," he urged. she flung up her head a little. "i knew what i was doing before i started," she said. "put it away. how far is it, and can we do it in time?" "if you can hold out, we can do it; but it means going all night and all morning; and it ain't dawn yet, by a long shot." * * * * * dawn came at last, and the mist of early morning, and the imperious and dispelling sun; and with mouthfuls of food as they drifted on, the two fixed their eyes on the horizon beyond which lay bindon. and now it seemed to the girl as though this race to save a life, or many lives, was the one thing in existence. _to-morrow_ was to-day, and the white petticoat was lying in the little house in the mountains, and her wedding was an interminable distance off, so had this adventure drawn her into its risks and toils and haggard exhaustion. eight, nine, ten, eleven o'clock came, and then they saw signs of settlement. houses appeared here and there upon the banks, and now and then a horseman watched them from the shore, but they could not pause. bindon--bindon--bindon--the snowdrop mine at bindon, and a death-dealing machine timed to do its deadly work, were before the eyes of the two _voyageurs_. half-past eleven, and the town of bindon was just beyond them. a quarter to twelve, and they had run their canoe into the bank beyond which were the smokestacks and chimneys of the mine. bindon was peacefully pursuing its way, though here and there were little groups of strikers who had not resumed work. dingley and the girl scrambled up the bank. trembling with fatigue, they hastened on. the man drew ahead of her, for she had paddled for fifteen hours, practically without ceasing, and the ground seemed to rise up at her. but she would not let him stop. he hurried on, reached the mine, and entered, shouting the name of his friend. it was seven minutes to twelve. a moment later, a half-dozen men came rushing from that portion of the mine where dingley had been told the machine was placed, and at their head was lawson, the man he had come to save. the girl hastened on to meet them, but she grew faint and leaned against a tree, scarce conscious. she was roused by voices. "no, it wasn't me, it wasn't me that done it; it was a girl. here she is--jenny long! you got to thank her, jake." jake! jake! the girl awakened to full understanding now. jake--what jake? she looked, then stumbled forward with a cry. "jake--it was my jake!" she faltered. the mine-boss caught her in his arms. "you, jenny! it's you that's saved me!" suddenly there was a rumble as of thunder, and a cloud of dust and stone rose from the snowdrop mine. the mine-boss tightened his arm round the girl's waist. "that's what i missed, through him and you, jenny," he said. "what was you doing here, and not at selby, jake?" she asked. "they sent for me--to stop the trouble here." "but what about our wedding to-day?" she asked, with a frown. "a man went from here with a letter to you three days ago," he said, "asking you to come down here and be married. i suppose he got drunk, or had an accident, and didn't reach you. it had to be. i was needed here--couldn't tell what would happen." "it has happened out all right," said dingley, "and this'll be the end of it. you got them miners solid now. the strikers'll eat humble pie after to-day." "we'll be married to-day, just the same," the mine-boss said, as he gave some brandy to the girl. but the girl shook her head. she was thinking of a white petticoat in a little house in the mountains. "i'm not going to be married to-day," she said, decisively. "well, to-morrow," said the mine-boss. but the girl shook her head again. "to-day is to-morrow," she answered. "you can wait, jake. i'm going back home to be married." qu'appelle (_who calls?_) "but i'm white; i'm not an indian. my father was a white man. i've been brought up as a white girl. i've had a white girl's schooling." her eyes flashed as she sprang to her feet and walked up and down the room for a moment, then stood still, facing her mother--a dark-faced, pock-marked woman, with heavy, somnolent eyes--and waited for her to speak. the reply came slowly and sullenly: "i am a blackfoot woman. i lived on the muskwat river among the braves for thirty years. i have killed buffalo. i have seen battles. men, too, i have killed when they came to steal our horses and crept in on our lodges in the night--the crees! i am a blackfoot. you are the daughter of a blackfoot woman. no medicine can cure that. sit down. you have no sense. you are not white. they will not have you. sit down." the girl's handsome face flushed; she threw up her hands in an agony of protest. a dreadful anger was in her panting breast, but she could not speak. she seemed to choke with excess of feeling. for an instant she stood still, trembling with agitation, then she sat down suddenly on a great couch covered with soft deer-skins and buffalo robes. there was deep in her the habit of obedience to this sombre but striking woman. she had been ruled firmly, almost oppressively, and she had not yet revolted. seated on the couch, she gazed out of the window at the flying snow, her brain too much on fire for thought, passion beating like a pulse in all her lithe and graceful young body, which had known the storms of life and time for only twenty years. the wind shrieked and the snow swept past in clouds of blinding drift, completely hiding from sight the town below them, whose civilization had built itself many habitations and was making roads and streets on the green-brown plain, where herds of buffalo had stamped and streamed and thundered not long ago. the town was a mile and a half away, and these two were alone in a great circle of storm, one of them battling against a tempest which might yet overtake her, against which she had set her face ever since she could remember; though it had only come to violence since her father died two years before--a careless, strong, wilful white man, who had lived the indian life for many years, but had been swallowed at last by the great wave of civilization streaming westward and northward, wiping out the game and the indian, and overwhelming the rough, fighting, hunting, pioneer life. joel renton had made money, by good luck chiefly, having held land here and there which he had got for nothing, and had then almost forgotten about it, and, when reminded of it, still held on to it with that defiant stubbornness which often possesses improvident and careless natures. he had never had any real business instinct, and to swagger a little over the land he held and to treat offers of purchase with contempt was the loud assertion of a capacity he did not possess. so it was that stubborn vanity, beneath which was his angry protest against the prejudice felt by the new people of the west for the white pioneer who married an indian and lived the indian life--so it was that this gave him competence and a comfortable home after the old trader had been driven out by the railway and the shopkeeper. with the first land he sold he sent his daughter away to school in a town farther east and south, where she had been brought in touch with a life that at once cramped and attracted her; where, too, she had felt the first chill of racial ostracism, and had proudly fought it to the end, her weapons being talent, industry, and a hot, defiant ambition. there had been three years of bitter, almost half-sullen, struggle, lightened by one sweet friendship with a girl whose face she had since drawn in a hundred different poses on stray pieces of paper, on the walls of the big, well-lighted attic to which she retreated for hours every day, when she was not abroad on the prairies, riding the indian pony that her uncle the piegan chief, ice breaker, had given her years before. three years of struggle, and then her father had died, and the refuge for her vexed, defiant heart was gone. while he lived she could affirm the rights of a white man's daughter, the rights of the daughter of a pioneer who had helped to make the west; and her pride in him had given a glow to her cheek and a spring to her step which drew every eye. in the chief street of portage la drã´me men would stop their trafficking and women nudge one another when she passed, and wherever she went she stirred interest, excited admiration, or aroused prejudice--but the prejudice did not matter so long as her father, joel renton, lived. whatever his faults, and they were many--sometimes he drank too much, and swore a great deal, and bullied and stormed--she blinked at them all, for he was of the conquering race, a white man who had slept in white sheets and eaten off white tablecloths, and used a knife and fork, since he was born; and the women of his people had had soft petticoats and fine stockings, and silk gowns for festal days, and feathered hats of velvet, and shoes of polished leather, always and always, back through many generations. she had held her head high, for she was of his women, of the women of his people, with all their rights and all their claims. she had held it high till that stormy day--just such a day as this, with the surf of snow breaking against the house--when they carried him in out of the wild turmoil and snow, laying him on the couch where she now sat, and her head fell on his lifeless breast, and she cried out to him in vain to come back to her. before the world her head was still held high, but in the attic-room, and out on the prairies far away, where only the coyote or the prairie hen saw, her head drooped, and her eyes grew heavy with pain and sombre protest. once in an agony of loneliness, and cruelly hurt by a conspicuous slight put upon her at the portage by the wife of the reeve of the town, who had daughters twain of pure white blood got from behind the bar of a saloon in winnipeg, she had thrown open her window at night, with the frost below zero, and stood in her thin nightdress, craving the death which she hoped the cold would give her soon. it had not availed, however, and once again she had ridden out in a blizzard to die, but had come upon a man lost in the snow, and her own misery had passed from her, and her heart, full of the blood of plainsmen, had done for another what it would not do for itself. the indian in her had, with strange, sure instinct, found its way to portage la drã´me, the man, with both hands and one foot frozen, on her pony, she walking at his side, only conscious that she had saved one, not two lives that day. here was another such day, here again was the storm in her heart which had driven her into the plains that other time, and here again was that tempest of white death outside. _"you have no sense. you are not white. they will not have you. sit down_--" the words had fallen on her ears with a cold, deadly smother. there came a chill upon her which stilled the wild pulses in her, which suddenly robbed the eyes of their brightness and gave a drawn look to the face. "you are not white. they will not have you, pauline." the indian mother repeated the words after a moment, her eyes grown still more gloomy; for in her, too, there was a dark tide of passion moving. in all the outlived years this girl had ever turned to the white father rather than to her, and she had been left more and more alone. her man had been kind to her, and she had been a faithful wife, but she had resented the natural instinct of her half-breed child, almost white herself and with the feelings and ways of the whites, to turn always to her father, as though to a superior guide, to a higher influence and authority. was not she herself the descendant of blackfoot and piegan chiefs through generations of rulers and warriors? was there not piegan and blackfoot blood in the girl's veins? must only the white man's blood be reckoned when they made up their daily account and balanced the books of their lives, credit and debtor--misunderstanding and kind act, neglect and tenderness, reproof and praise, gentleness and impulse, anger and caress--to be set down in the everlasting record? why must the indian always give way--indian habits, indian desires, the indian way of doing things, the indian point of view, indian food, indian medicine? was it all bad, and only that which belonged to white life good? "look at your face in the glass, pauline," she added, at last. "you are good-looking, but it isn't the good looks of the whites. the lodge of a chieftainess is the place for you. there you would have praise and honor; among the whites you are only a half-breed. what is the good? let us go back to the life out there beyond the muskwat river--up beyond. there is hunting still, a little, and the world is quiet, and nothing troubles. only the wild dog barks at night, or the wolf sniffs at the door, and all day there is singing. somewhere out beyond the muskwat the feasts go on, and the old men build the great fires, and tell tales, and call the wind out of the north, and make the thunder speak; and the young men ride to the hunt or go out to battle, and build lodges for the daughters of the tribe; and each man has his woman, and each woman has in her breast the honor of the tribe, and the little ones fill the lodge with laughter. like a pocket of deerskin is every house, warm and small and full of good things. _hai-yai_, what is this life to that! there you will be head and chief of all, for there is money enough for a thousand horses; and your father was a white man, and these are the days when the white man rules. like clouds before the sun are the races of men, and one race rises and another falls. here you are not first, but last; and the child of the white father and mother, though they be as the dirt that flies from a horse's heels, it is before you. your mother is a blackfoot." as the woman spoke slowly and with many pauses, the girl's mood changed, and there came into her eyes a strange, dark look deeper than anger. she listened with a sudden patience which stilled the agitation in her breast and gave a little touch of rigidity to her figure. her eyes withdrew from the wild storm without and gravely settled on her mother's face, and with the indian woman's last words understanding pierced, but did not dispel, the sombre and ominous look in her eyes. there was silence for a moment, and then she spoke almost as evenly as her mother had done. "i will tell you everything. you are my mother, and i love you; but you will not see the truth. when my father took you from the lodges and brought you here, it was the end of the indian life. it was for you to go on with him, but you would not go. i was young, but i saw, and i said that in all things i would go with him. i did not know that it would be hard, but at school, at the very first, i began to understand. there was only one, a french girl--i loved her--a girl who said to me, 'you are as white as i am, as any one, and your heart is the same, and you are beautiful.' yes, manette said i was beautiful." she paused a moment, a misty, far-away look came into her eyes, her fingers clasped and unclasped, and she added: "and her brother, julien--he was older--when he came to visit manette he spoke to me as though i was all white, and was good to me. i have never forgotten, never. it was five years ago, but i remember him. he was tall and strong, and as good as manette--as good as manette. i loved manette, but she suffered for me, for i was not like the others, and my ways were different--then. i had lived up there on the warais among the lodges, and i had not seen things--only from my father, and he did so much in an indian way. so i was sick at heart, and sometimes i wanted to die; and once--but there was manette, and she would laugh and sing, and we would play together, and i would speak french and she would speak english, and i learned from her to forget the indian ways. what were they to me? i had loved them when i was of them, but i came on to a better life. the indian life is to the white life as the parfleche pouch to--to this." she laid her hand upon a purse of delicate silver mesh hanging at her waist. "when your eyes are opened you must go on, you cannot stop. there is no going back. when you have read of all there is in the white man's world, when you have seen, then there is no returning. you may end it all, if you wish, in the snow, in the river, but there is no returning. the lodge of a chief--ah, if my father had heard you say that--!" the indian woman shifted heavily in her chair, then shrank away from the look fixed on her. once or twice she made as if she would speak, but sank down in the great chair, helpless and dismayed. "the lodge of a chief!" the girl continued, in a low, bitter voice. "what is the lodge of a chief? a smoky fire, a pot, a bed of skins--_aih-yi_! if the lodges of the indians were millions, and i could be head of all, and rule the land, yet would i rather be a white girl in the hut of her white man, struggling for daily bread among the people who sweep the buffalo out, but open up the land with the plough, and make a thousand live where one lived before. it is peace you want, my mother, peace and solitude, in which the soul goes to sleep. your days of hope are over, and you want to drowse by the fire. i want to see the white man's cities grow, and the armies coming over the hill with the ploughs and the reapers and the mowers, and the wheels and the belts and engines of the great factories, and the white woman's life spreading everywhere; for i am a white man's daughter. i can't be both indian and white. i will not be like the sun when the shadow cuts across it and the land grows dark. i will not be half-breed. i will be white or i will be indian; and i will be white, white only. my heart is white, my tongue is white, i think, i feel, as white people think and feel. what they wish, i wish; as they live, i live; as white women dress, i dress." she involuntarily drew up the dark-red skirt she wore, showing a white petticoat and a pair of fine stockings on an ankle as shapely as she had ever seen among all the white women she knew. she drew herself up with pride, and her body had a grace and ease which the white woman's convention had not cramped. yet, with all her protests, no one would have thought her english. she might have been spanish, or italian, or roumanian, or slav, though nothing of her indian blood showed in purely indian characteristics, and something sparkled in her, gave a radiance to her face and figure which the storm and struggle in her did not smother. the white women of portage la drã´me were too blind, too prejudiced, to see all that she really was, and admiring white men could do little, for pauline would have nothing to do with them till the women met her absolutely as an equal; and from the other half-breeds, who intermarried with one another and were content to take a lower place than the pure whites, she held aloof, save when any of them was ill or in trouble. then she recognized the claim of race, and came to their doors with pity and soft impulses to help them. french and scotch and english half-breeds, as they were, they understood how she was making a fight for all who were half-indian, half-white, and watched her with a furtive devotion, acknowledging her superior place, and proud of it. "i will not stay here," said the indian mother, with sullen stubbornness. "i will go back beyond the warais. my life is my own life, and i will do what i like with it." the girl started, but became composed again on the instant. "is your life all your own, mother?" she asked. "i did not come into the world of my own will. if i had i would have come all white or all indian. i am your daughter, and i am here, good or bad--is your life all your own?" "you can marry and stay here, when i go. you are twenty. i had my man, your father, when i was seventeen. you can marry. there are men. you have money. they will marry you--and forget the rest." with a cry of rage and misery the girl sprang to her feet and started forward, but stopped suddenly at sound of a hasty knocking and a voice asking admittance. an instant later, a huge, bearded, broad-shouldered man stepped inside, shaking himself free of the snow, laughing half-sheepishly as he did so, and laying his fur cap and gloves with exaggerated care on the wide window-sill. "john alloway," said the indian woman, in a voice of welcome and with a brightening eye, for it would seem as though he came in answer to her words of a few moments before. with a mother's instinct she had divined at once the reason for the visit, though no warning thought crossed the mind of the girl, who placed a chair for their visitor with a heartiness which was real--was not this the white man she had saved from death in the snow a year ago? her heart was soft toward the life she had kept in the world. she smiled at him, all the anger gone from her eyes, and there was almost a touch of tender anxiety in her voice as she said: "what brought you out in this blizzard? it wasn't safe. it doesn't seem possible you got here from the portage." the huge ranchman and auctioneer laughed cheerily. "once lost, twice get there," he exclaimed, with a quizzical toss of the head, thinking he had said a good thing. "it's a year ago to the very day that i was lost out back"--he jerked a thumb over his shoulder--"and you picked me up and brought me in; and what was i to do but come out on the anniversary and say thank you? i'd fixed up all year to come to you, and i wasn't to be stopped, 'cause it was like the day we first met, old coldmaker hitting the world with his whips of frost, and shaking his ragged blankets of snow over the wild west." "just such a day," said the indian woman, after a pause. pauline remained silent, placing a little bottle of cordial before their visitor, with which he presently regaled himself, raising his glass with an air. "many happy returns to us both!" he said, and threw the liqueur down his throat, smacked his lips, and drew his hand down his great mustache and beard, like some vast animal washing its face with its paw. smiling, and yet not at ease, he looked at the two women and nodded his head encouragingly, but whether the encouragement was for himself or for them he could not have told. his last words, however, had altered the situation. the girl had caught at a suggestion in them which startled her. this rough, white plainsman was come to make love to her, and to say--what? he was at once awkward and confident, afraid of her, of her refinement, grace, beauty, and education, and yet confident in the advantage of his position, a white man bending to a half-breed girl. he was not conscious of the condescension and majesty of his demeanor, but it was there, and his untutored words and ways must make it all too apparent to the girl. the revelation of the moment made her at once triumphant and humiliated. this white man had come to make love to her, that was apparent; but that he, ungrammatical, crude, and rough, should think he had but to put out his hand, and she in whom every subtle emotion and influence had delicate response, whose words and ways were as far removed from his as day from night, would fly to him, brought the flush of indignation to her cheek. she responded to his toast with a pleasant nod, however, and said: "but if you will keep coming in such wild storms, there will not be many anniversaries." laughing, she poured out another glass of liqueur for him. "well, now, p'r'aps you're right, and so the only thing to do is not to keep coming, but to stay--stay right where _you_ are." the indian woman could not see her daughter's face, which was turned to the fire, but she herself smiled at john alloway, and nodded her head approvingly. here was the cure for her own trouble and loneliness. pauline and she, who lived in different worlds, and yet were tied to each other by circumstances they could not control, would each work out her own destiny after her own nature, since john alloway had come a-wooing. she would go back on the warais, and pauline would remain at the portage, a white woman with her white man. she would go back to the smoky fires in the huddled lodges; to the venison stew and the snake dance; to the feasts of the medicine-men, and the long sleeps in the summer days, and the winter's tales, and be at rest among her own people; and pauline would have revenge of the wife of the prancing reeve, and perhaps the people would forget who her mother was. with these thoughts flying through her sluggish mind, she rose and moved heavily from the room, with a parting look of encouragement at alloway, as though to say, a man that is bold is surest. with her back to the man, pauline watched her mother leave the room, saw the look she gave alloway. when the door was closed she turned and looked alloway in the eyes. "how old are you?" she asked, suddenly. he stirred in his seat nervously. "why, fifty, about," he answered, with confusion. "then you'll be wise not to go looking for anniversaries in blizzards, when they're few at the best," she said, with a gentle and dangerous smile. "fifty--why, i'm as young as most men of thirty," he responded, with an uncertain laugh. "i'd have come here to-day if it had been snowing pitchforks and chain-lightning. i made up my mind i would. you saved my life, that's dead sure; and i'd be down among the moles if it wasn't for you and that piegan pony of yours. piegan ponies are wonders in a storm--seem to know their way by instinct. you, too--why, i bin on the plains all my life, and was no better than a baby that day; but you--why, you had piegan in you--why, yes--" he stopped short for a moment, checked by the look in her face, then went blindly on: "and you've got blackfoot in you, too; and you just felt your way through the tornado and over the blind prairie like a bird reaching for the hills. it was as easy to you as picking out a maverick in a bunch of steers to me. but i never could make out what you was doing on the prairie that terrible day. i've thought of it a hundred times. what was you doing, if it ain't cheek to ask?" "i was trying to lose a life," she answered, quietly, her eyes dwelling on his face, yet not seeing him; for it all came back on her, the agony which had driven her out into the tempest to be lost evermore. he laughed. "well now, that's good," he said; "that's what they call speaking sarcastic. you was out to save, and not to lose, a life; that was proved to the satisfaction of the court." he paused and chuckled to himself, thinking he had been witty, and continued: "and i was that court, and my judgment was that the debt of that life you saved had to be paid to you within one calendar year, with interest at the usual per cent. for mortgages on good security. that was my judgment, and there's no appeal from it. i am the great justinian in this case!" "did you ever save anybody's life?" she asked, putting the bottle of cordial away, as he filled his glass for the third time. "twice certain, and once divided the honors," he answered, pleased at the question. "and did you expect to get any pay, with or without interest?" she added. "me! i never thought of it again. but yes--by gol, i did! one case was funny, as funny can be. it was ricky wharton over on the muskwat river. i saved his life right enough, and he came to me a year after and said, 'you saved my life, now what are you going to do with it? i'm stony broke. i owe a hundred dollars, and i wouldn't be owing it if you hadn't saved my life. when you saved it i was five hundred to the good, and i'd have left that much behind me. now i'm on the rocks, because you insisted on saving my life; and you just got to take care of me.' i 'insisted'! well, that knocked me silly, and i took him on--blame me, if i didn't keep ricky a whole year, till he went north looking for gold. get pay?--why, i _paid_! saving life has its responsibilities, little gal." "you can't save life without running some risk yourself, not as a rule, can you?" she said, shrinking from his familiarity. "not as a rule," he replied. "you took on a bit of risk with me, you and your piegan pony." "oh, i was young," she responded, leaning over the table and drawing faces on a piece of paper before her. "i could take more risks, i was only nineteen!" "i don't catch on," he rejoined. "if it's sixteen or--" "or fifty," she interposed. "what difference does it make? if you're done for, it's the same at nineteen as fifty, and _vicey-versey_." "no, it's not the same," she answered. "you leave so much more that you want to keep, when you go at fifty." "well, i dunno. i never thought of that." "there's all that has belonged to you. you've been married, and have children, haven't you?" he started, frowned, then straightened himself. "i got one girl--she's east with her grandmother," he said, jerkily. "that's what i said; there's more to leave behind at fifty," she replied, a red spot on each cheek. she was not looking at him, but at the face of a man on the paper before her--a young man with abundant hair, a strong chin, and big, eloquent eyes; and all around his face she had drawn the face of a girl many times, and beneath the faces of both she was writing _manette and julien_. the water was getting too deep for john alloway. he floundered toward the shore. "i'm no good at words," he said--"no good at argyment; but i've got a gift for stories--round the fire of a night, with a pipe and tin basin of tea; so i'm not going to try and match you. you've had a good education down at winnipeg. took every prize, they say, and led the school, though there was plenty of fuss because they let you do it, and let you stay there, being half-indian. you never heard what was going on outside, i s'pose. it didn't matter, for you won out. blamed foolishness, trying to draw the line between red and white that way. of course, it's the women always, always the women, striking out for all-white or nothing. down there at portage they've treated you mean, mean as dirt. the reeve's wife--well, we'll fix that up all right. i guess john alloway ain't to be bluffed. he knows too much, and they all know he knows enough. when john alloway, 32 main street, with a ranch on the katanay, says, 'we're coming, mr. and mrs. john alloway is coming,' they'll get out their cards _visite_, i guess." pauline's head bent lower, and she seemed laboriously etching lines into the faces before her--manette and julien, julien and manette; and there came into her eyes the youth and light and gayety of the days when julien came of an afternoon and the riverside rang with laughter--the dearest, lightest days she had ever spent. the man of fifty went on, seeing nothing but a girl over whom he was presently going to throw the lasso of his affection and take her home with him, yielding and glad, a white man and his half-breed girl--but such a half-breed! "i seen enough of the way some of them women treated you," he continued, "and i sez to myself, her turn next. there's a way out, i sez, and john alloway pays his debts. when the anniversary comes round i'll put things right, i sez to myself. she saved my life, and she shall have the rest of it, if she'll take it, and will give a receipt in full, and open a new account in the name of john and pauline alloway. catch it? see--pauline?" slowly she got to her feet. there was a look in her eyes such as had been in her mother's a little while before, but a hundred times intensified, a look that belonged to the flood and flow of generations of indian life, yet controlled in her by the order and understanding of centuries of white men's lives, the pervasive, dominating power of race. for an instant she kept her eyes toward the window. the storm had suddenly ceased, and a glimmer of sunset light was breaking over the distant wastes of snow. "you want to pay a debt you think you owe," she said, in a strange, lustreless voice, turning to him at last. "well, you have paid it. you have given me a book to read which i will keep always. and i give you a receipt in full for your debt." "i don't know about any book," he answered, dazedly. "i want to marry you right away." "i am sorry, but it is not necessary," she replied, suggestively. her face was very pale now. "but i want to. it ain't a debt. that was only a way of putting it. i want to make you my wife. i got some position, and i can make the west sit up and look at you and be glad." suddenly her anger flared out, low and vivid and fierce, but her words were slow and measured. "there is no reason why i should marry you--not one. you offer me marriage as a prince might give a penny to a beggar. if my mother were not an indian woman, you would not have taken it all as a matter of course. but my father was a white man, and i am a white man's daughter, and i would rather marry an indian, who would think me the best thing there was in the light of the sun, than marry you. had i been pure white you would not have been so sure; you would have asked, not offered. i am not obliged to you. you ought to go to no woman as you came to me. see, the storm has stopped. you will be quite safe going back now. the snow will be deep, perhaps, but it is not far." she went to the window, got his cap and gloves, and handed them to him. he took them, dumbfounded and overcome. "say, i ain't done it right, mebbe, but i meant well, and i'd be good to you and proud of you, and i'd love you better than anything i ever saw," he said, shamefacedly, but eagerly and honestly, too. "ah, you should have said those last words first," she answered. "i say them now." "they come too late; but they would have been too late in any case," she added. "still, i am glad you said them." she opened the door for him. "i made a mistake," he urged, humbly. "i understand better now. i never had any schoolin'." "oh, it isn't that," she answered, gently. "good-bye." suddenly he turned. "you're right--it couldn't ever be," he said. "you're--you're great. and i owe you my life still!" he stepped out into the biting air. for a moment pauline stood motionless in the middle of the room, her gaze fixed upon the door which had just closed; then, with a wild gesture of misery and despair, she threw herself upon the couch in a passionate outburst of weeping. sobs shook her from head to foot, and her hands, clenched above her head, twitched convulsively. presently the door opened and her mother looked in eagerly. at what she saw her face darkened and hardened for an instant, but then the girl's utter abandonment of grief and agony convinced and conquered her. some glimmer of the true understanding of the problem which pauline represented got into her heart and drove the sullen selfishness from her face and eyes and mind. she came over heavily and, sinking upon her knees, swept an arm around the girl's shoulder. she realized what had happened, and probably this was the first time in her life that she had ever come by instinct to a revelation of her daughter's mind or of the faithful meaning of incidents of their lives. "you said no to john alloway," she murmured. defiance and protest spoke in the swift gesture of the girl's hands. "you think because he was white that i'd drop into his arms! no--no--no!" "you did right, little one." the sobs suddenly stopped, and the girl seemed to listen with all her body. there was something in her indian mother's voice she had never heard before--at least, not since she was a little child and swung in a deerskin hammock in a tamarac-tree by renton's lodge, where the chiefs met and the west paused to rest on its onward march. something of the accents of the voice that crooned to her then was in the woman's tones now. "he offered it like a lump of sugar to a bird--i know. he didn't know that you have great blood--yes, but it is true. my man's grandfather, he was of the blood of the kings of england. my man had the proof. and for a thousand years my people have been chiefs. there is no blood in all the west like yours. my heart was heavy, and dark thoughts came to me, because my man is gone, and the life is not my life, and i am only an indian woman from the warais, and my heart goes out there always now. but some great medicine has been poured into my heart. as i stood at the door and saw you lying there, i called to the sun. 'o great spirit,' i said, 'help me to understand, for this girl is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, and evil has come between us!' and the sun spirit poured the medicine into my spirit, and there is no cloud between us now. it has passed away, and i see. little white one, the white life is the only life, and i will live it with you till a white man comes and gives you a white man's home. but not john alloway. shall the crow nest with the oriole?" as the woman spoke with slow, measured voice full of the cadences of a heart revealing itself, the girl's breath at first seemed to stop, so still she lay; then, as the true understanding of the words came to her, she panted with excitement, her breast heaved, and the blood flushed her face. when the slow voice ceased, and the room became still, she lay quiet for a moment, letting the new thing find secure lodgment in her thought; then, suddenly, she raised herself and threw her arms round her mother in a passion of affection. "lalika! o mother lalika!" she said, tenderly, and kissed her again and again. not since she was a little girl, long before they left the warais, had she called her mother by her indian name, which her father had humorously taught her to do in those far-off happy days by the beautiful, singing river and the exquisite woods, when, with a bow and arrow, she had ranged, a young diana who slew only with love. "lalika, mother lalika, it is like the old, old times," she added, softly. "ah, it does not matter now, for you understand!" "i do not understand altogether," murmured the indian woman, gently. "i am not white, and there is a different way of thinking; but i will hold your hand, and we will live the white life together." cheek to cheek they saw the darkness come, and afterwards the silver moon steal up over a frozen world, in which the air bit like steel and braced the heart like wine. then, at last, before it was nine o'clock, after her custom, the indian woman went to bed, leaving her daughter brooding peacefully by the fire. for a long time pauline sat with hands clasped in her lap, her gaze on the tossing flames, in her heart and mind a new feeling of strength and purpose. the way before her was not clear, she saw no further than this day, and all that it had brought; yet she was as one that has crossed a direful flood and finds herself on a strange shore in an unknown country, with the twilight about her, yet with so much of danger passed that there was only the thought of the moment's safety round her, the camp-fire to be lit, and the bed to be made under the friendly trees and stars. for a half-hour she sat so, and then, suddenly, she raised her head listening, leaning toward the window, through which the moonlight streamed. she heard her name called without, distinct and strange--"_pauline! pauline!_" starting up, she ran to the door and opened it. all was silent and cruelly cold. nothing but the wide plain of snow and the steely air. but as she stood intently listening, the red glow from the fire behind her, again came the cry--"pauline!"--not far away. her heart beat hard, and she raised her head and called--why was it she should call out in a language not her own?--"_qu'appelle? qu'appelle?_" and once again on the still night air came the trembling appeal, "pauline!" "_qu'appelle? qu'appelle_?" she cried; then, with a gasping murmur of understanding and recognition she ran forward in the frozen night toward the sound of the voice. the same intuitive sense which had made her call out in french, without thought or reason, had revealed to her who it was that called; or was it that even in the one word uttered there was the note of a voice always remembered since those days with manette at winnipeg? not far away from the house, on the way to portage la drã´me, but a little distance from the road, was a crevasse, and toward this she sped, for once before an accident had happened there. again the voice called as she sped--"pauline!"--and she cried out that she was coming. presently she stood above the declivity, and peered over. almost immediately below her, a few feet down, was a man lying in the snow. he had strayed from the obliterated road, and had fallen down the crevasse, twisting his foot cruelly. unable to walk, he had crawled several hundred yards in the snow, but his strength had given out, and then he had called to the house, on whose dark windows flickered the flames of the fire, the name of the girl he had come so far to see. [illustration: "pauline," he said, feebly, and fainted in her arms] with a cry of joy and pain at once she recognized him now. it was as her heart had said--it was julien, manette's brother. in a moment she was beside him, her arm around his shoulder. "pauline!" he said, feebly, and fainted in her arms. an instant later she was speeding to the house, and, rousing her mother and two of the stablemen, she snatched a flask of brandy from a cupboard and hastened back. an hour later julien labrosse lay in the great sitting-room beside the fire, his foot and ankle bandaged, and at ease, his face alight with all that had brought him there. and once again the indian mother with a sure instinct knew why he had come, and saw that now her girl would have a white man's home, and, for her man, one of the race like her father's race, white and conquering. "i'm sorry to give trouble," julien said, laughing--he had a trick of laughing lightly; "but i'll be able to get back to the portage to-morrow." to this the indian mother said, however: "to please yourself is a great thing, but to please others is better; and so you will stay here till you can walk back to the portage, m'sieu' julien." "well, i've never been so comfortable," he said--"never so happy. if you don't mind the trouble!" the indian woman nodded pleasantly, and found an excuse to leave the room. but before she went she contrived to place near his elbow one of the scraps of paper on which pauline had drawn his face, with that of manette. it brought a light of hope and happiness into his eyes, and he thrust the paper under the fur robes of the couch. "what are you doing with your life?" pauline asked him, as his eyes sought hers a few moments later. "oh, i have a big piece of work before me," he answered eagerly, "a great chance--to build a bridge over the st. lawrence, and i'm only thirty! i've got my start. then, i've made over the old seigneury my father left me, and i'm going to live in it. it will be a fine place, when i've done with it, comfortable and big, with old oak timbers and walls, and deep fireplaces, and carvings done in the time of louis quinze, and dark-red velvet curtains for the drawing-room, and skins and furs. yes, i must have skins and furs like these here." he smoothed the skins with his hand. "manette, she will live with you?" pauline asked. "oh no, her husband wouldn't like that. you see, manette is to be married. she told me to tell you all about it." he told her all that was to tell of manette's courtship, and added that the wedding would take place in the spring. "manette wanted it when the leaves first flourish and the birds come back," he said, gayly; "and so she's not going to live with me at the seigneury, you see. no, there it is, as fine a house, good enough for a prince, and i shall be there alone, unless--" his eyes met hers, and he caught the light that was in them before the eyelids drooped over them and she turned her head to the fire. "but the spring is two months off yet," he added. "the spring?" she asked, puzzled, yet half afraid to speak. "yes, i'm going into my new house when manette goes into her new house--in the spring. and i won't go alone if--" he caught her eyes again, but she rose hurriedly and said: "you must sleep now. good-night." she held out her hand. "well, i'll tell you the rest to-morrow--to-morrow night, when it's quiet like this, and the stars shine," he answered. "i'm going to have a home of my own like this--ah, _bien sã»r_, pauline." that night the old indian mother prayed to the sun. "o great spirit," she said, "i give thanks for the medicine poured into my heart. be good to my white child when she goes with her man to the white man's home far away. o great spirit, when i return to the lodges of my people, be kind to me, for i shall be lonely; i shall not have my child; i shall not hear my white man's voice. give me good medicine, o sun and great father, till my dream tells me that my man comes from over the hills for me once more." the stake and the plumb-line she went against all good judgment in marrying him; she cut herself off from her own people, from the life in which she had been an alluring and beautiful figure. washington had never had two such seasons as those in which she moved; for the diplomatic circle who had had "the run of the world" knew her value, and were not content without her. she might have made a brilliant match with one ambassador thirty years older than herself--she was but twenty-two; and there were at least six attachã©s and secretaries of legation who entered upon a tournament for her heart and hand; but she was not for them. all her fine faculties of tact and fairness, of harmless strategy, and her gifts of wit and unexpected humor were needed to keep her cavaliers constant and hopeful to the last; but she never faltered, and she did not fail. the faces of old men brightened when they saw her, and one or two ancient figures who, for years, had been seldom seen at social functions now came when they knew she was to be present. there were, of course, a few women who said she would coquette with any male from nine to ninety; but no man ever said so; and there was none, from first to last, but smiled with pleasure at even the mention of her name, so had her vivacity, intelligence, and fine sympathy conquered them. she was a social artist by instinct. in their hearts they all recognized how fair and impartial she was; and she drew out of every man the best that was in him. the few women who did not like her said that she chattered; but the truth was she made other people talk by swift suggestion or delicate interrogation. after the blow fell, freddy hartzman put the matter succinctly, and told the truth faithfully, when he said: "the first time i met her, i told her all i'd ever done that could be told, and all i wanted to do; including a resolve to carry her off to some desert place and set up a kingdom of two. i don't know how she did it. i was like a tap, and poured myself out; and when it was all over i thought she was the best talker i'd ever heard. but yet she'd done nothing except look at me and listen, and put in a question here and there, that was like a baby asking to see your watch. oh, she was a lily-flower, was sally seabrook, and i've never been sorry i told her all my little story! it did me good. poor darling--it makes me sick sometimes when i think of it. yet she'll win out all right--a hundred to one she'll win out. she was a star." freddy hartzman was in an embassy of repute; he knew the chancelleries and salons of many nations, and was looked upon as one of the ablest and shrewdest men in the diplomatic service. he had written one of the best books on international law in existence, he talked english like a native, he had published a volume of delightful verse, and had omitted to publish several others, including a tiny volume which sally seabrook's charms had inspired him to write. his view of her was shared by most men who knew the world, and especially by the elderly men who had a real knowledge of human nature, among whom was a certain important member of the united states executive called john appleton. when the end of all things at washington came for sally, these two men united to bear her up, that her feet should not stumble upon the stony path of the hard journey she had undertaken. appleton was not a man of much speech; but his words had weight; for he was not only a minister; he came of an old family which had ruled the social destinies of a state, and had alternately controlled and disturbed its politics. on the day of the sensation, in the fiery cloud of which sally disappeared, appleton delivered himself of his mind in the matter at a reception given by the president. "she will come back--and we will all take her back, be glad to have her back," he said. "she has the grip of a lever which can lift the eternal hills with the right pressure. leave her alone--leave her alone. this is a democratic country, and she'll prove democracy a success before she's done." the world knew that john appleton had offered her marriage, and he had never hidden the fact. what they did not know was that she had told him what she meant to do before she did it. he had spoken to her plainly, bluntly, then with a voice that was blurred and a little broken, urging her against the course toward which she was set; but it had not availed; and, realizing that he had come upon a powerful will underneath the sunny and so human surface, he had ceased to protest, to bear down upon her mind with his own iron force. when he realized that all his reasoning was wasted, that all worldly argument was vain, he made one last attempt, a forlorn hope, as though to put upon record what he believed to be the truth. "there is no position you cannot occupy," he said. "you have the perfect gift in private life, and you have a public gift. you have a genius for ruling. say, my dear, don't wreck it all. i know you are not for me, but there are better men in the country than i am. hartzman will be a great man one day--he wants you. young tilden wants you; he has millions, and he will never disgrace them or you, the power which they can command, and the power which you have. and there are others. your people have told you they will turn you off; the world will say things--will rend you. there is nothing so popular for the moment as the fall of a favorite. but that's nothing--it's nothing at all compared with the danger to yourself. i didn't sleep last night thinking of it. yet i'm glad you wrote me; it gave me time to think, and i can tell you the truth as i see it. haven't you thought that he will drag you down, down, down, wear out your soul, break and sicken your life, destroy your beauty--you are beautiful, my dear, beyond what the world sees, even. give it up--ah, give it up, and don't break our hearts! there are too many people loving you for you to sacrifice them--and yourself, too.... you've had such a good time!" "it's been like a dream," she interrupted, in a far-away voice--"like a dream, these two years." "and it's been such a good dream," he urged; "and you will only go to a bad one, from which you will never wake. the thing has fastened on him; he will never give it up. and penniless, too--his father has cast him off. my girl, it's impossible. listen to me. there's no one on earth that would do more for you than i would--no one." "dear, dear friend!" she cried, with a sudden impulse, and caught his hand in hers and kissed it before he could draw it back. "you are so true, and you think you are right. but, but"--her eyes took on a deep, steady, far-away look--"but i will save him; and we shall not be penniless in the end. meanwhile i have seven hundred dollars a year of my own. no one can touch that. nothing can change me now--and i have promised." when he saw her fixed determination, he made no further protest, but asked that he might help her, be with her the next day, when she was to take a step which the wise world would say must lead to sorrow and a miserable end. the step she took was to marry jim templeton, the drunken, cast-off son of a millionaire senator from kentucky, who controlled railways and owned a bank, and had so resented his son's inebriate habits that for five years he had never permitted jim's name to be mentioned in his presence. jim had had twenty thousand dollars left him by his mother, and a small income of three hundred dollars from an investment which had been made for him when a little boy. and this had carried him on; for, drunken as he was, he had sense enough to eke out the money, limiting himself to three thousand dollars a year. he had four thousand dollars left, and his tiny income of three hundred, when he went to sally seabrook, after having been sober for a month, and begged her to marry him. before dissipation had made him look ten years older than he was, there had been no handsomer man in all america. even yet he had a remarkable face: long, delicate, with dark-brown eyes, as fair a forehead as man could wish, and black, waving hair, streaked with gray--gray, though he was but twenty-nine years of age. when sally was fifteen and he twenty-two, he had fallen in love with her and she with him; and nothing had broken the early romance. he had captured her young imagination, and had fastened his image on her heart. her people, seeing the drift of things, had sent her to a school on the hudson, and the two did not meet for some time. then came a stolen interview, and a fastening of the rivets of attraction--for jim had gifts of a wonderful kind. he knew his horace and anacreon and heine and lamartine and dante in the originals, and a hundred others; he was a speaker of power and grace; and he had a clear, strong head for business. he was also a lawyer, and was junior attorney to his father's great business. it was because he had the real business gift, not because he had a brilliant and scholarly mind, that his father had taken him into his concerns, and was the more unforgiving when he gave way to temptation. otherwise, he would have pensioned jim off, and dismissed him from his mind as a useless, insignificant person; for horace, anacreon, and philosophy and history were to him the recreations of the feeble-minded. he had set his heart on jim, and what jim could do and would do by-and-by in the vast financial concerns he controlled, when he was ready to slip out and down; but jim had disappointed him beyond calculation. in the early days of their association jim had left his post and taken to drink at critical moments in their operations. at first, high words had been spoken, then there came the strife of two dissimilar natures, and both were headstrong, and each proud and unrelenting in his own way. then, at last, had come the separation, irrevocable and painful; and jim had flung out into the world, a drunkard, who, sober for a fortnight, or a month, or three months, would afterward go off on a spree, in which he quoted sappho and horace in taverns, and sang bacchanalian songs with a voice meant for the stage--a heritage from an ancestor who had sung upon the english stage a hundred years before. even in his cups, even after his darling vice had submerged him, jim templeton was a man marked out from his fellows, distinguished and very handsome. society, however, had ceased to recognize him for a long time, and he did not seek it. for two or three years he practised law now and then. he took cases, preferably criminal cases, for which very often he got no pay; but that, too, ceased at last. now, in his quiet, sober intervals he read omnivorously, and worked out problems in physics for which he had a taste, until the old appetite surged over him again. then his spirits rose, and he was the old brilliant talker, the joyous galliard until, in due time, he became silently and lethargically drunk. in one of his sober intervals he had met sally seabrook in the street. it was the first time in four years, for he had avoided her, and though she had written to him once or twice, he had never answered her--shame was in his heart. yet all the time the old song was in sally's ears. jim templeton had touched her in some distant and intimate corner of her nature where none other had reached; and in all her gay life, when men had told their tale of admiration in their own way, her mind had gone back to jim, and what he had said under the magnolia-trees; and his voice had drowned all others. she was not blind to what he had become, but a deep belief possessed her that she, of all the world, could save him. she knew how futile it would look to the world, how wild a dream it looked even to her own heart, how perilous it was; but, play upon the surface of things as she had done so much and so often in her brief career, she was seized of convictions having origin, as it might seem, in something beyond herself. so when she and jim met in the street, the old, true thing rushed upon them both, and for a moment they stood still and looked at each other. as they might look who say farewell forever, so did each dwell upon the other's face. that was the beginning of the new epoch. a few days more, and jim came to her and said that she alone could save him; and she meant him to say it, had led him to the saying, for the same conviction was burned deep in her own soul. she knew the awful risk she was taking, that the step must mean social ostracism, and that her own people would be no kinder to her than society; but she gasped a prayer, smiled at jim as though all were well, laid her plans, made him promise her one thing on his knees, and took the plunge. her people did as she expected. she was threatened with banishment from heart and home--with disinheritance; but she pursued her course; and the only person who stood with her and jim at the altar was john appleton, who would not be denied, and who had such a half-hour with jim before the ceremony as neither of them forgot in the years that the locust ate thereafter. and, standing at the altar, jim's eyes were still wet, with new resolves in his heart and a being at his side meant for the best man in the world. as he knelt beside her, awaiting the benediction, a sudden sense of the enormity of this act came upon him, and for her sake he would have drawn back then, had it not been too late. he realized that it was a crime to put this young, beautiful life in peril; that his own life was a poor, contemptible thing, and that he had been possessed of the egotism of the selfish and the young. but the thing was done, and a new life was begun. before they were launched upon it, however, before society had fully grasped the sensation, or they had left upon their journey to northern canada, where sally intended they should work out their problem and make their home, far and free from all old associations, a curious thing happened. jim's father sent an urgent message to sally to come to him. when she came, he told her she was mad, and asked her why she had thrown her life away. "why have you done it?" he said. "you--you knew all about him; you might have married the best man in the country. you could rule a kingdom; you have beauty and power, and make people do what you want; and you've got a sot." "he is your son," she answered, quietly. she looked so beautiful and so fine as she stood there, fearless and challenging before him, that he was moved. but he would not show it. "he was my son--when he was a man," he retorted grimly. "he is the son of the woman you once loved," she answered. the old man turned his head away. "what would she have said to what you did to jim?" he drew himself around sharply. her dagger had gone home, but he would not let her know it. "leave her out of the question--she was a saint," he said, roughly. "she cannot be left out; nor can you. he got his temperament naturally; he inherited his weakness. from your grandfather, from her father. do you think you are in no way responsible?" he was silent for a moment, but then said, stubbornly: "why--why have you done it? what's between him and me can't be helped; we are father and son; but you--you had no call, no responsibility." "i love jim. i always loved him, ever since i can remember, as you did. i see my way ahead. i will not desert him. no one cares what happens to him, no one but me. your love wouldn't stand the test; mine will." "your folks have disinherited you--you have almost nothing, and i will not change my mind. what do you see ahead of you?" "jim--only jim--and god." her eyes were shining, her hands were clasped together at her side in the tenseness of her feeling, her indomitable spirit spoke in her face. suddenly the old man brought his fist down on the table with a bang. "it's a crime--oh, it's a crime, to risk your life so! you ought to have been locked up. i'd have done it." "listen to me," she rejoined, quietly. "i know the risk. but do you think that i could have lived my life out, feeling that i might have saved jim and didn't try? you talk of beauty and power and ruling--you say what others have said to me. which is the greater thing, to get what pleases one, or to work for something which is more to one than all else in the world? to save one life, one intellect, one great man--oh, he has the making of a great man in him!--to save a soul, would not life be well lost, would not love be well spent, in doing it?" "love's labor lost," said the old man, slowly, cynically, but not without emotion. "i have ambition," she continued. "no girl was ever more ambitious, but my ambition is to make the most and best of myself. place?--jim and i will hold it yet. power?--it shall be as it must be; but jim and i will work for it to fulfil ourselves. for me--ah, if i can save him--and i mean to do so!--do you think that i would not then have my heaven on earth? you want money--money--money, power, and to rule; and these are to you the best things in the world. i make my choice differently, though i would have these other things if i could; and i hope i shall. but jim first--jim first, your son, jim--my husband, jim!" the old man got to his feet slowly. she had him at bay. "but you are great," he said, "great! it is an awful stake--awful! yet, if you win, you'll have what money can't buy. and listen to me. we'll make the stake bigger. it will give it point, too, in another way. if you keep jim sober for four years from the day of your marriage, on the last day of that four years i'll put in your hands for you and him, or for your child--if you have one--five millions of dollars. i am a man of my word. while jim drinks i won't take him back; he's disinherited. i'll give him nothing now or hereafter. save him for four years--if he can do that he will do all--and there's five millions as sure as the sun's in heaven. amen and amen." he opened the door. there was a strange, soft light in her eyes as she came to go. "aren't you going to kiss me?" she said, looking at him whimsically. he was disconcerted. she did not wait, but reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "good-bye," she said, with a smile. "we'll win the stake. good-bye." an instant and she was gone. he shut the door, then turned and looked in a mirror on the wall. abstractedly he touched the cheek she had kissed. suddenly a change passed over his face. he dropped in a chair, and his fist struck the table as he said: "by god, she may do it, she may do it! but it's life and death--it's life and death." society had its sensation, and then the veil dropped. for a long time none looked behind it except jim's father. he had too much at stake not to have his telescope upon them. a detective followed them to keep jim's record. but this they did not know. ii from the day they left washington jim put his life and his fate in his wife's hands. he meant to follow her judgment, and, self-willed and strong in intellect as he was, he said that she should have a fair chance of fulfilling her purpose. there had been many _pour parlers_ as to what jim should do. there was farming. she set that aside, because it meant capital, and it also meant monotony and loneliness; and capital was limited, and monotony and loneliness were bad for jim, deadening an active brain which must not be deprived of stimulants--stimulants of a different sort, however, from those which had heretofore mastered it. there was the law. but jim would have to become a citizen of canada, change his flag, and where they meant to go--to the outskirts--there would be few opportunities for the law; and with not enough to _do_ there would be danger. railway construction? that seemed good in many ways, but jim had not the professional knowledge necessary; his railway experience with his father had only been financial. above all else he must have responsibility, discipline, and strict order in his life. "something that will be good for my natural vanity, and knock the nonsense out of me," jim agreed, as they drew farther and farther away from washington and the past, and nearer and nearer to the far north and their future. never did two more honest souls put their hands in each other's, and set forth upon the thorniest path to a goal which was their heart's desire. since they had become one, there had come into sally's face that illumination which belongs only to souls possessed of an idea greater than themselves, outside themselves--saints, patriots; faces which have been washed in the salt tears dropped for others' sorrows and lighted by the fire of self-sacrifice. sally seabrook, the high-spirited, the radiant, the sweetly wilful, the provoking, to concentrate herself upon this narrow theme--to reconquer the lost paradise of one vexed mortal soul! what did jim's life mean? it was only one in the millions coming and going, and every man must work out his own salvation. why should she cramp her soul to this one issue, when the same soul could spend itself upon the greater motives and in the larger circle? a wide world of influence had opened up before her; position, power, adulation, could all have been hers, as john appleton and jim's father had said. she might have moved in well-trodden ways, through gardens of pleasure, lived a life where all would be made easy, where she would be shielded at every turn, and her beauty would be flattered by luxury into a constant glow. she was not so primitive, so unintellectual, as not to have thought of this, else her decision would have had less importance; she would have been no more than an infatuated, emotional woman with a touch of second-class drama in her nature. she had thought of it all, and she had made her choice. the easier course was the course for meaner souls, and she had not one vein of thin blood nor a small idea in her whole nature. she had a heart and mind for great issues. she believed that jim had a great brain, and would and could accomplish great things. she knew that he had in him the strain of hereditary instinct--his mother's father had ended a brief life in a drunken duel on the mississippi, and jim's boyhood had never had discipline or direction, or any strenuous order. he might never acquire order, and the power that order and habit and the daily iteration of necessary thoughts and acts bring; but the prospect did not appal her. she had taken the risk with her eyes wide open; had set her own life and happiness in the hazard. but jim must be saved, must be what his talents, his genius, entitled him to be. and the long game must have the long thought. so, as they drew into the great saskatchewan valley, her hand in his, and hope in his eyes, and such a look of confidence and pride in her as brought back his old, strong beauty of face and smoothed the careworn lines of self-indulgence, she gave him his course: as a private he must join the north-west mounted police, the red-coated riders of the plains, and work his way up through every stage of responsibility, beginning at the foot of the ladder of humbleness and self-control. she believed that he would agree with her proposal; but her hands clasped his a little more firmly and solicitously--there was a faint, womanly fear at her heart--as she asked him if he would do it. the life meant more than occasional separation; it meant that there would be periods when she would not be with him; and there was great danger in that; but she knew that the risks must be taken, and he must not be wholly reliant on her presence for his moral strength. his face fell for a moment when she made the suggestion, but it cleared presently, and he said, with a dry laugh: "well, i guess they must make me a sergeant pretty quick. i'm a colonel in the kentucky carbineers!" she laughed, too; then a moment afterward, womanlike, wondered if she was right, and was a little frightened. but that was only because she was not self-opinionated, and was anxious, more anxious than any woman in all the north. it happened as jim said; he was made a sergeant at once--sally managed that; for, when it came to the point, she saw the conditions in which the privates lived, and realized that jim must be one of them, and clean out the stables, and groom his horse and the officers' horses, and fetch and carry, her heart failed her, and she thought that she was making her remedy needlessly heroical. so, she went to see the commissioner, who was on a tour of scrutiny on their arrival at the post, and, as better men than he had done in more knowing circles, he fell under her spell. if she had asked for a lieutenancy, he would probably have corrupted some member of parliament into securing it for jim. but jim was made a sergeant, and the commissioner and the captain of the troop kept their eyes on him. so did other members of the troop who did not quite know their man, and attempted, figuratively, to pinch him here and there. they found that his actions were greater than his words, and both were in perfect harmony in the end, though his words often seemed pointless to their minds, until they understood that they had conveyed truths through a medium more like a heliograph than a telephone. by-and-by they began to understand his heliographing, and, when they did that, they began to swear by him, not at him. in time it was found that the troop never had a better disciplinarian than jim. he knew when to shut his eyes, and when to keep them open. to non-essentials he kept his eyes shut; to essentials he kept them very wide open. there were some men of good birth from england and elsewhere among them, and these mostly understood him first. but they all understood sally from the beginning, and after a little they were glad enough to be permitted to come, on occasion, to the five-roomed little house near the barracks, and hear her talk, then answer her questions, and, as men had done at washington, open out their hearts to her. they noticed, however, that while she made them barley-water, and all kinds of soft drinks from citric acid, sarsaparilla, and the like, and had one special drink of her own invention, which she called cream-nectar, no spirits were to be had. they also noticed that jim never drank a drop of liquor, and by-and-by, one way or another, they got a glimmer of the real truth, before it became known who he really was or anything of his story. and the interest in the two, and in jim's reformation, spread through the country, while jim gained reputation as the smartest man in the force. they were on the outskirts of civilization--as jim used to say, "one step ahead of the procession." jim's duty was to guard the columns of settlement and progress, and to see that every man got his own rights and not more than his rights; that justice should be the plumb-line of march and settlement. his principle was embodied in certain words which he quoted once to sally from the prophet amos--"_and the lord said unto me, amos, what seest thou? and i said, a plumb-line_." on the day that jim became a lieutenant his family increased by one. it was a girl, and they called her nancy, after jim's mother. it was the anniversary of their marriage, and, so far, jim had won, with what fightings and strugglings and wrestlings of the spirit only sally and himself knew. and she knew as well as he, and always saw the storm coming before it broke--a restlessness, then a moodiness, then a hungry, eager, helpless look, and afterward an agony of longing, a feverish desire to break away and get the thrilling thing which would still the demon within him. there had been moments when his doom seemed certain--he knew and she knew that if he once got drunk again he would fall never to rise. on one occasion, after a hard, long, hungry ride, he was half-mad with desire, but even as he seized the flask that was offered to him by his only enemy, the captain of b troop, at the next station eastward, there came a sudden call to duty, two hundred indians having gone upon the war-path. it saved him, it broke the spell. he had to mount and away, with the antidote and stimulant of responsibility driving him on. another occasion was equally perilous to his safety. they had been idle for days in a hot week in summer, waiting for orders to return from the rail-head where they had gone to quell a riot, and where drink and hilarity were common. suddenly--more suddenly than it had ever come, the demon of his thirst had jim by the throat. sergeant sewell, of the gray-stubble head, who loved him more than his sour heart had loved anybody in all his life, was holding himself ready for the physical assault he must make upon his superior officer if he raised a glass to his lips, when salvation came once again. an accident had occurred far down on the railway line, and the operator of the telegraph-office had that very day been stricken down with pleurisy and pneumonia. in despair the manager had sent to jim, eagerly hoping that he might help them, for the riders of the plains were a sort of court of appeal for every trouble in the far north. instantly jim was in the saddle with his troop. out of curiosity he had learned telegraphy when a boy, as he had learned many things, and, arrived at the scene of the accident, he sent messages and received them--by sound, not on paper as did the official operator, to the amazement and pride of the troop. then, between caring for the injured in the accident, against the coming of the relief train, and nursing the sick operator through the dark moments of his dangerous illness, he passed a crisis of his own disease triumphantly; but not the last crisis. so the first and so the second and third years passed in safety. iii "please, i want to go, too, jim." jim swung round and caught the child up in his arms. "say, how dare you call your father _jim_--eh, tell me that?" "it's what mummy calls you--it's pretty." "i don't call her 'mummy' because you do, and you mustn't call me _jim_ because she does--do you hear?" the whimsical face lowered a little, then the rare and beautiful dark blue eyes raised slowly, shaded by the long lashes, and the voice said, demurely, "yes--jim." "nancy--nancy," said a voice from the corner in reproof, mingled with suppressed laughter. "nancy, you mustn't be saucy. you must say 'father' to--" "yes, mummy. i'll say father to--jim." "you imp--you imp of delight," said jim, as he strained the dainty little lass to his breast, while she appeared interested in a wave of his black hair, which she curled around her finger. sally came forward with the little parcel of sandwiches she had been preparing, and put them in the saddlebags lying on a chair at the door, in readiness for the journey jim was about to make. her eyes were glistening, and her face had a heightened color. the three years which had passed since she married had touched her not at all to her disadvantage, rather to her profit. she looked not an hour older; motherhood had only added to her charm, lending it a delightful gravity. the prairie life had given a shining quality to her handsomeness, an air of depth and firmness, an exquisite health and clearness to the color in her cheeks. her step was as light as nancy's, elastic and buoyant--a gliding motion which gave a sinuous grace to the movements of her body. there had also come into her eyes a vigilance such as deaf people possess, a sensitive observation imparting a deeper intelligence to the face. here was the only chance by which you could guess the story of her life. her eyes were like the ears of an anxious mother who can never sleep till every child is abed; whose sense is quick to hear the faintest footstep without or within; and who, as years go on, and her children grow older and older, must still lie awake hearkening for the late footstep on the stair. in sally's eyes was the story of the past three years: of love and temptation and struggle, of watchfulness and yearning and anxiety, of determination and an inviolable hope. her eyes had a deeper look than that in jim's. now, as she gazed at him, the maternal spirit rose up from the great well of protectiveness in her and engulfed both husband and child. there was always something of the maternal in her eyes when she looked at jim. he did not see it--he saw only the wonderful blue, and the humor which had helped him over such difficult places these past three years. in steadying and strengthening jim's will, in developing him from his southern indolence into northern industry and sense of responsibility, john appleton's warnings had rung in sally's ears, and freddy hartzman's forceful and high-minded personality had passed before her eyes with an appeal powerful and stimulating; but always she came to the same upland of serene faith and white-hearted resolve; and jim became dearer and dearer. the baby had done much to brace her faith in the future and comfort her anxious present. the child had intelligence of a rare order. she would lie by the half-hour on the floor, turning over the leaves of a book without pictures, and, before she could speak, would read from the pages in a language all her own. she made a fairy world for herself, peopled by characters to whom she gave names, to whom she assigned curious attributes and qualities. they were as real to her as though flesh and blood, and she was never lonely, and never cried; and she had buried herself in her father's heart. she had drawn to her the roughest men in the troop, and for old sewell, the grim sergeant, she had a specially warm place. "you can love me if you like," she had said to him at the very start, with the egotism of childhood; but made haste to add, "because i love you, gri-gri." she called him gri-gri from the first, but they knew only long afterward that "gri-gri" meant "gray-gray," to signify that she called him after his grizzled hairs. what she had been in the life-history of sally and jim they both knew. jim regarded her with an almost superstitious feeling. sally was his strength, his support, his inspiration, his bulwark of defence; nancy was the charm he wore about his neck--his mascot, he called her. once, when she was ill, he had suffered as he had never done before in his life. he could not sleep nor eat, and went about his duties like one in a dream. when his struggles against his enemy were fiercest, he kept saying over her name to himself, as though she could help him. yet always it was sally's hand he held in the darkest hours, in his brutal moments; for in this fight between appetite and will there are moments when only the animal seems to exist, and the soul disappears in the glare and gloom of the primal emotions. nancy he called his "lucky sixpence," but he called sally his "guinea-girl." from first to last his whimsicality never deserted him. in his worst hours, some innate optimism and humor held him steady in his fight. it was not depression that possessed him at the worst, but the violence of an appetite most like a raging pain which men may endure with a smile upon their lips. he carried in his face the story of a conflict, the aftermath of bitter experience; and through all there pulsed the glow of experience. he had grown handsomer, and the graceful decision of his figure, the deliberate certainty of every action, heightened the force of a singular personality. as in the eyes of sally, in his eyes was a long, reflective look which told of things overcome, and yet of dangers present. his lips smiled often, but the eyes said: "i have lived, i have seen, i have suffered, and i must suffer more. i have loved, i have been loved under the shadow of the sword. happiness i have had, and golden hours, but not peace--never peace. my soul has need of peace." in the greater, deeper experience of their lives, the more material side of existence had grown less and less to them. their home was a model of simple comfort and some luxury, though jim had insisted that sally's income should not be spent, except upon the child, and should be saved for the child, their home being kept on his pay and on the tiny income left by his mother. with the help of an indian girl, and a half-breed for out-door work and fires and gardening, sally had cared for the house herself. ingenious and tasteful, with a gift for cooking and an educated hand, she had made her little home as pretty as their few possessions would permit. refinement covered all, and three or four score books were like so many friends to comfort her when jim was away; like kind and genial neighbors when he was at home. from browning she had written down in her long, sliding handwriting, and hung up beneath jim's looking-glass, the heartening and inspiring words: "one who never turned his back, but marched breast forward, never doubted clouds would break, never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, sleep to wake." they had lived above the sordid, and there was something in the nature of jim's life to help them to it. he belonged to a small handful of men who had control over an empire, with an individual responsibility and influence not contained in the scope of their commissions. it was a matter of moral force and character, and of uniform, symbolical only of the great power behind; of the long arm of the state; of the insistence of the law, which did not rely upon force alone, but on the certainty of its administration. in such conditions the smallest brain was bound to expand, to take on qualities of judgment and temperateness which would never be developed in ordinary circumstances. in the case of jim templeton, who needed no stimulant to his intellect, but rather a steadying quality, a sense of proportion, the daily routine, the command of men, the diverse nature of his duties, half civil, half military, the personal appeals made on all sides by the people of the country for advice, for help, for settlement of disputes, for information which his well-instructed mind could give--all these modified the romantic brilliance of his intellect, made it and himself more human. it had not come to him all at once. his intellect at first stood in his way. his love of paradox, his deep observation, his insight--all made him inherently satirical, though not cruelly so; but satire had become pure whimsicality at last; and he came to see that, on the whole, the world was imperfect, but also, on the whole, was moving toward perfection rather than imperfection. he grew to realize that what seemed so often weakness in men was tendency and idiosyncrasy rather than evil. and in the end he thought better of himself as he came to think better of all others. for he had thought less of all the world because he had thought so little of himself. he had overestimated his own faults, had made them into crimes in his own eyes, and, observing things in others of similar import, had become almost a cynic in intellect, while in heart he had remained a boy. in all that he had changed a great deal. his heart was still the heart of a boy, but his intellect had sobered, softened, ripened--even in this secluded and seemingly unimportant life; as sally had said and hoped it would. sally's conviction had been right. but the triumph was not yet achieved. she knew it. on occasion the tones of his voice told her, the look that came into his eyes proclaimed it to her, his feverishness and restlessness made it certain. how many a night had she thrown her arm over his shoulder, and sought his hand and held it while in the dark silence, wide-eyed, dry-lipped, and with a throat like fire he had held himself back from falling. there was liquor in the house--the fight would not have been a fight without it. she had determined that he should see his enemy and meet him in the plains and face him down; and he was never many feet away from his possible disaster. yet for long over three years all had gone well. there was another year. would he last out the course? at first the thought of the great stake for which she was playing in terms of currency, with the head of jim's father on every note, was much with her. the amazing nature of the offer of five millions of dollars stimulated her imagination, roused her; gold coins are counters in the game of success, signs and tokens. money alone could not have lured her; but rather what it represented--power, width of action, freedom to help when the heart prompted, machinery for carrying out large plans, ability to surround with advantage those whom we love. so, at first, while yet the memories of washington were much with her, the appeal of the millions was strong. the gallant nature of the contest and the great stake braced her; she felt the blood quicken in her pulse. but, all through, the other thing really mastered her: the fixed idea that jim must be saved. as it deepened, the other life that she had lived became like the sports in which we shared when children, full of vivacious memory, shining with impulse and the stir of life, but not to be repeated--days and deeds outgrown. so the light of one idea shone in her face. yet she was intensely human too; and if her eyes had not been set on the greater glory, the other thought might have vulgarized her mind, made her end and goal sordid--the descent of a nature rather than its ascension. when nancy came, the lesser idea, the stake, took on a new importance, for now it seemed to her that it was her duty to secure for the child its rightful heritage. then jim, too, appeared in a new light, as one who could never fulfil himself unless working through the natural channels of his birth, inheritance, and upbringing. jim, drunken and unreliable, with broken will and fighting to find himself--the waste places were for him, until he was the master of his will and emotions. once, however, secure in ability to control himself, with cleansed brain and purpose defined, the widest field would be still be too narrow for his talents--and the five, yes, the fifty millions of his father must be his. she had never repented having married jim; but twice in those three years she had broken down and wept as though her heart would break. there were times when jim's nerves were shaken in his struggle against the unseen foe, and he had spoken to her querulously, almost sharply. yet in her tears there was no reproach for him, rather for herself--the fear that she might lose her influence over him, that she could not keep him close to her heart, that he might drift away from her in the commonplaces and monotony of work and domestic life. everything so depended on her being to him not only the one woman for whom he cared, but the woman without whom he could care for nothing else. "o, my god, give me his love," she had prayed. "let me keep it yet a little while. for his sake, not for my own, let me have the power to hold his love. make my mind always quiet, and let me blow neither hot nor cold. help me to keep my temper sweet and cheerful, so that he will find the room empty where i am not, and his footsteps will quicken when he comes to the door. not for my sake, dear god, but for his, or my heart will break--it will break unless thou dost help me to hold him. o lord, keep me from tears; make my face happy that i may be goodly to his eyes, and forgive the selfishness of a poor woman who has little, and would keep her little and cherish it, for christ's sake." twice had she poured out her heart so, in the agony of her fear that she should lose favor in jim's sight--she did not know how alluring she was, in spite of the constant proofs offered her. she had had her will with all who came her way, from governor to indian brave. once, in a journey they had made far north, soon after they came, she had stayed at a hudson bay company's post for some days, while there came news of restlessness among the indians, because of lack of food, and jim had gone farther north to steady the tribes, leaving her with the factor and his wife and a half-breed servant. while she and the factor's wife were alone in the yard of the post one day, an indian chief, arrowhead, in war-paint and feathers, entered suddenly, brandishing a long knife. he had been drinking, and there was danger in his black eyes. with a sudden inspiration she came forward quickly, nodded and smiled to him, and then pointed to a grindstone standing in the corner of the yard. as she did so, she saw indians crowding into the gate armed with knives, guns, bows, and arrows. she beckoned to arrowhead, and he followed her to the grindstone. she poured some water on the wheel and began to turn it, nodding at the now impassive indian to begin. presently he nodded also, and put his knife on the stone. she kept turning steadily, singing to herself the while, as with anxiety she saw the indians drawing closer and closer in from the gate. faster and faster she turned, and at last the indian lifted his knife from the stone. she reached out her hand with simulated interest, felt the edge with her thumb, the indian looking darkly at her the while. presently, after feeling the edge himself, he bent over the stone again, and she went on turning the wheel, still singing softly. at last he stopped again and felt the edge. with a smile which showed her fine, white teeth, she said, "is that for me?" making a significant sign across her throat at the same time. the old indian looked at her grimly, then slowly shook his head in negation. "i go hunt yellow hawk to-night," he said. "i go fight; i like marry you when i come back. _how_!" he said, and turned away toward the gate. some of his braves held back, the blackness of death in their looks. he saw. "my knife is sharp," he said. "the woman is brave. she shall live--go and fight yellow hawk, or starve and die." divining their misery, their hunger, and the savage thought that had come to them, sally had whispered to the factor's wife to bring food, and the woman now came running out with two baskets full, and returned for more. sally ran forward among the indians and put the food into their hands. with grunts of satisfaction they seized what she gave, and thrust it into their mouths, squatting on the ground. arrowhead looked on stern and immobile, but when at last she and the factor's wife sat down before the braves with confidence and an air of friendliness, he sat down also; yet, famished as he was, he would not touch the food. at last sally, realizing his proud defiance of hunger, offered him a little lump of pemmican and a biscuit, and with a grunt he took it from her hands and ate it. then, at his command, a fire was lit, the pipe of peace was brought out, and sally and the factor's wife touched their lips to it, and passed it on. so was a new treaty of peace and loyalty made with arrowhead and his tribe by a woman without fear, whose life had seemed not worth a minute's purchase; and, as the sun went down, arrowhead and his men went forth to make war upon yellow hawk beside the nettigon river. in this wise had her influence spread in the land. * * * * * standing now with the child in his arms and his wife looking at him with a shining moisture of the eyes, jim laughed outright. there came upon him a sudden sense of power, of aggressive force--the will to do. sally understood, and came and laughingly grasped his arm. "oh, jim," she said, playfully, "you are getting muscles like steel. you hadn't these when you were colonel of the kentucky carbineers!" "i guess i need them now," he said, smiling, and with the child still in his arms drew her to a window looking northward. as far as the eye could see, nothing but snow, like a blanket spread over the land. here and there in the wide expanse a tree silhouetted against the sky, a tracery of eccentric beauty, and off in the far distance a solitary horseman riding toward the post--riding hard. "it was root, hog, or die with me, sally," he continued, "and i rooted.... i wonder--that fellow on the horse--i have a feeling about him. see, he's been riding hard and long--you can tell by the way the horse drops his legs. he sags a bit himself.... but isn't it beautiful, all that out there--the real quintessence of life." the air was full of delicate particles of frost on which the sun sparkled, and though there was neither bird nor insect, nor animal, nor stir of leaf, nor swaying branch or waving grass, life palpitated in the air, energy sang its song in the footstep that crunched the frosty ground, that broke the crusted snow; it was in the delicate wind that stirred the flag by the barracks away to the left; hope smiled in the wide prospect over which the thrilling, bracing air trembled. sally had chosen right. "you had a big thought when you brought me here, guinea-girl," he added, presently. "we are going to win out here"--he set the child down--"you and i and this lucky sixpence." he took up his short fur coat. "yes, we'll win, honey." then, with a brooding look in his face, he added: "'the end comes as came the beginning, and shadows fail into the past; and the goal, is it not worth the winning, if it brings us but home at the last? while far through the pain of waste places we tread, 'tis a blossoming rod that drives us to grace from disgraces, from the fens to the gardens of god!'" he paused reflectively. "it's strange that this life up here makes you feel that you must live a bigger life still, that this is only the wide porch to the great labor-house--it makes you want to do things. well, we've got to win the stake first," he added, with a laugh. "the stake is a big one, jim--bigger than you think." "you and her and me--me that was in the gutter." "what is the gutter, dadsie?" asked nancy. "the gutter--the gutter is where the dish-water goes, midget," he answered, with a dry laugh. "oh, i don't think you'd like to be in the gutter," nancy said, solemnly. "you have to get used to it first, miss," answered jim. suddenly sally laid both hands on jim's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "you must win the stake, jim. think--now!" she laid a hand on the head of the child. he did not know that he was playing for a certain five millions, perhaps fifty millions, of dollars. she had never told him of his father's offer. he was fighting only for salvation, for those he loved, for freedom. as they stood there, the conviction had come upon her that they had come to the last battle-field, that this journey which jim now must take would decide all, would give them perfect peace or lifelong pain. the shadow of battle was over them, but he had no foreboding, no premonition; he had never been so full of spirits and life. to her adjuration jim replied by burying his face in her golden hair, and he whispered: "say, i've done near four years, my girl. i think i'm all right now--i think. this last six months, it's been easy--pretty fairly easy." "four months more, only four months more--god be good to us!" she said, with a little gasp. if he held out for four months more, the first great stage in their life-journey would be passed, the stake won. "i saw a woman get an awful fall once," jim said, suddenly. "her bones were broken in twelve places, and there wasn't a spot on her body without injury. they set and fixed up every broken bone except one. it was split down. they didn't dare perform the operation; she couldn't stand it. there was a limit to pain, and she had reached the boundary. two years went by, and she got better every way, but inside her leg those broken pieces of bone were rubbing against each other. she tried to avoid the inevitable operation, but nature said, 'you must do it, or die in the end.' she yielded. then came the long preparations for the operation. her heart shrank, her mind got tortured. she'd suffered too much. she pulled herself together, and said, 'i must conquer this shrinking body of mine by my will. how shall i do it?' something within her said, 'think and do for others. forget yourself.' and so, as they got her ready for her torture, she visited hospitals, agonized cripple as she was, and smiled and talked to the sick and broken, telling them of her own miseries endured and dangers faced, of the boundary of human suffering almost passed; and so she got her courage for her own trial. and she came out all right in the end. well, that's the way i've felt sometimes. but i'm ready for my operation now whenever it comes, and it's coming, i know. let it come when it must." he smiled. there came a knock at the door, and presently sewell entered. "the commissioner wishes you to come over, sir," he said. "i was just coming, sewell. is all ready for the start?" "everything's ready, sir, but there's to be a change of orders. something's happened--a bad job up in the cree country, i think." a few minutes later jim was in the commissioner's office. the murder of a hudson's bay company's man had been committed in the cree country. the stranger whom jim and sally had seen riding across the plains had brought the news for thirty miles, word of the murder having been carried from point to point. the commissioner was uncertain what to do, as the crees were restless through want of food and the absence of game, and a force sent to capture arrowhead, the chief who had committed the murder, might precipitate trouble. jim solved the problem by offering to go alone and bring the chief into the post. it was two hundred miles to the cree encampment, and the journey had its double dangers. another officer was sent on the expedition for which jim had been preparing, and he made ready to go upon his lonely duty. his wife did not know till three days after he had gone what the nature of his mission was. iv jim made his journey in good weather with his faithful dogs alone, and came into the camp of the crees armed with only a revolver. if he had gone with ten men, there would have been an instant mãªlã©e, in which he would have lost his life. this is what the chief had expected, had prepared for; but jim was more formidable alone, with power far behind him which could come with force and destroy the tribe, if resistance was offered, than with fifty men. his tongue had a gift of terse and picturesque speech, powerful with a people who had the gift of imagination. with five hundred men ready to turn him loose in the plains without dogs or food, he carried himself with a watchful coolness and complacent determination which got home to their minds with great force. for hours the struggle for the murderer went on, a struggle of mind over inferior mind and matter. arrowhead was a chief whose will had never been crossed by his own people, and to master that will by a superior will, to hold back the destructive force which, to the ignorant minds of the braves, was only a natural force of defence, meant a task needing more than authority behind it. for the very fear of that authority put in motion was an incentive to present resistance--to stave off the day of trouble. the faces that surrounded jim were thin with hunger, and the murder that had been committed by the chief had, as its origin, the foolish replies of the hudson's bay company's man to their demand for supplies. arrowhead had killed him with his own hand. but jim templeton was of a different calibre. although he had not been told it, he realized that, indirectly, hunger was the cause of the crime and might easily become the cause of another; for their tempers were sharper even than their appetites. upon this he played; upon this he made an exhortation to the chief. he assumed that arrowhead had become violent because of his people's straits, that arrowhead's heart yearned for his people and would make sacrifice for them. now, if arrowhead came quietly, he would see that supplies of food were sent at once, and that arrangements were made to meet the misery of their situation. therefore, if arrowhead came freely, he would have so much in his favor before his judges; if he would not come quietly, then he must be brought by force; and if they raised a hand to prevent it, then destruction would fall upon all--all save the women and children. the law must be obeyed. they might try to resist the law through him, but, if violence was shown, he would first kill arrowhead, and then destruction would descend like a wind out of the north, darkness would swallow them, and their bones would cover the plains. as he ended his words a young brave sprang forward with hatchet raised. jim's revolver slipped down into his palm from his sleeve, and a bullet caught the brave in the lifted arm. the hatchet dropped to the ground. then jim's eyes blazed, and he turned a look of anger on the chief, his face pale and hard, as he said: "the stream rises above the banks; come with me, chief, or all will drown. i am master, and i speak. ye are hungry because ye are idle. ye call the world yours, yet ye will not stoop to gather from the earth the fruits of the earth. ye sit idle in the summer, and women and children die round you when winter comes. because the game is gone, ye say. must the world stand still because a handful of crees need a hunting-ground? must the makers of cities and the wonders of the earth, who fill the land with plenty--must they stand far off, because the crees and their chief would wander over a million acres, for each man a million, when by a hundred--ay, by ten--each white man would live in plenty and make the land rejoice? see! here is the truth. when the great spirit draws the game away so that the hunting is poor, ye sit down and fill your hearts with murder, and in the blackness of your thoughts kill my brother. idle and shiftless and evil ye are, while the earth cries out to give you of its plenty, a great harvest from a little seed, if ye will but dig and plant, and plough and sow and reap, and lend your backs to toil. now hear and heed. the end is come. for this once ye shall be fed--by the blood of my heart, ye shall be fed! and another year ye shall labor, and get the fruits of your labor, and not stand waiting, as it were, till a fish shall pass the spear or a stag water at your door, that ye may slay and eat. the end is come, ye idle men. o chief, hearken! one of your braves would have slain me, even as you slew my brother--he one, and you a thousand. speak to your people as i have spoken, and then come and answer for the deed done by your hand. and this i say that right shall be done between men and men. speak." jim had made his great effort, and not without avail. arrowhead rose slowly, the cloud gone out of his face, and spoke to his people, bidding them wait in peace until food came, and appointing his son chief in his stead until his return. "the white man speaks truth, and i will go," he said. "i shall return," he continued, "if it be written so upon the leaves of the tree of life; and if it be not so written, i shall fade like a mist, and the tepees will know me not again. the days of my youth are spent, and my step no longer springs from the ground. i shuffle among the grass and the fallen leaves, and my eyes scarce know the stag from the doe. the white man is master--if he wills it we shall die; if he wills it we shall live. and this was ever so. it is in the tale of our people. one tribe ruled, and the others were their slaves. if it is written on the leaves of the tree of life that the white man rule us forever, then it shall be so, i have spoken. now, behold, i go." jim had conquered, and together they sped away with the dogs through the sweet-smelling spruce woods where every branch carried a cloth of white, and the only sound heard was the swish of a blanket of snow as it fell to the ground from the wide webs of green, or a twig snapped under the load it bore. peace brooded in the silent and comforting forest, and jim and arrowhead, the indian ever ahead, swung along, mile after mile, on their snow-shoes, emerging at last upon the wide, white prairie. * * * * * a hundred miles of sun and fair weather, sleeping at night in the open in a trench dug in the snow, no fear in the thoughts of jim, nor evil in the heart of the heathen man. there had been moments of watchfulness, of uncertainty, on jim's part, the first few hours of the first night after they left the cree reservation; but the conviction speedily came to jim that all was well; for the chief slept soundly from the moment he lay down in his blankets between the dogs. then jim went to sleep as in his own bed, and, waking, found arrowhead lighting a fire from a little load of sticks from the sledges. and between murderer and captor there sprang up the companionship of the open road which brings all men to a certain land of faith and understanding, unless they are perverted and vile. there was no vileness in arrowhead. there were no handcuffs on his hands, no sign of captivity; they two ate out of the same dish, drank from the same basin, broke from the same bread. the crime of arrowhead, the gallows waiting for him, seemed very far away. they were only two silent travellers, sharing the same hardship, helping to give material comfort to each other--in the inevitable democracy of those far places, where small things are not great nor great things small; where into men's hearts comes the knowledge of the things that matter; where, from the wide, starry sky, from the august loneliness, and the soul of the life which has brooded there for untold generations, god teaches the values of this world and the next. one hundred miles of sun and fair weather, and then fifty miles of bitter, aching cold, with nights of peril from the increasing chill, so that jim dared not sleep lest he should never wake again, but die benumbed and exhausted! yet arrowhead slept through all. day after day so, and then ten miles of storm such as come only to the vast barrens of the northlands; and woe to the traveller upon whom the icy wind and the blinding snow descended! woe came upon jim templeton and arrowhead, the heathen. in the awful struggle between man and nature that followed, the captive became the leader. the craft of the plains, the inherent instinct, the feeling which was more than eyesight became the only hope. one whole day to cover ten miles--an endless path of agony, in which jim went down again and again, but came up blinded by snow and drift, and cut as with lashes by the angry wind. at the end of the ten miles was a hudson bay company's post and safety; and through ten hours had the two struggled toward it, going off at tangents, circling on their own tracks; but the indian, by an instinct as sure as the needle to the pole, getting the direction to the post again, in the moments of direst peril and uncertainty. to jim the world became a sea of maddening forces which buffeted him; a whirlpool of fire in which his brain was tortured, his mind was shrivelled up; a vast army rending itself, each man against the other. it was a purgatory of music, broken by discords; and then at last--how sweet it all was, after the eternity of misery!--"church bells and voices low," and sally singing to him, nancy's voice calling! then, nothing but sleep--sleep, a sinking down millions of miles in an ether of drowsiness which thrilled him; and after--no more. none who has suffered up to the limit of what the human body and soul may bear can remember the history of those distracted moments when the struggle became one between the forces in nature and the forces in man, between agonized body and smothered mind, yet with the divine intelligence of the created being directing, even though subconsciously, the fight. how arrowhead found the post in the mad storm he could never have told. yet he found it, with jim unconscious on the sledge and with limbs frozen, all the dogs gone but two, the leathers over the indian's shoulders as he fell against the gate of the post with a shrill cry that roused the factor and his people within, together with sergeant sewell, who had been sent out from headquarters to await jim's arrival there. it was sewell's hand which first felt jim's heart and pulse, and found that there was still life left, even before it could be done by the doctor from headquarters, who had come to visit a sick man at the post. for hours they worked with snow upon the frozen limbs to bring back life and consciousness. consciousness came at last with half delirium, half understanding; as, emerging from the passing sleep of anã¦sthetics, the eye sees things and dimly registers them before the brain has set them in any relation to life or comprehension. but jim was roused at last, and the doctor presently held to his lips a glass of brandy. then from infinite distance jim's understanding returned; the mind emerged, but not wholly, from the chaos in which it was travelling. his eyes stood out in eagerness. "brandy! brandy!" he said, hungrily. with an oath sewell snatched the glass from the doctor's hand, put it on the table, then stooped to jim's ear and said, hoarsely: "remember--nancy. for god's sake, sir, don't drink!" jim's head fell back, the fierce light went out of his eyes, the face became grayer and sharper. "sally--nancy--nancy," he whispered, and his fingers clutched vaguely at the quilt. "he must have brandy or he will die. the system is pumped out. he must be revived," said the doctor. he reached again for the glass of spirits. jim understood now. he was on the borderland between life and death, his feet were at the brink. "no--not--brandy, no!" he moaned. "sally--sally, kiss me," he said, faintly, from the middle world in which he was. "quick, the broth!" said sewell to the factor, who had been preparing it. "quick, while there's a chance." he stooped and called into jim's ear: "for the love of god, wake up, sir. they're coming--they're both coming--nancy's coming. they'll soon be here." what matter that he lied?--a life was at stake. jim's eyes opened again. the doctor was standing with the brandy in his hand. half madly jim reached out. "i must live until they come," he cried; "the brandy--ah, give it! give it--ah, no, no, i must not," he added, gasping, his lips trembling, his hands shaking. sewell held the broth to his lips. he drank a little, yet his face became grayer and grayer; a bluish tinge spread about his mouth. "have you nothing else, sir?" asked sewell, in despair. the doctor put down the brandy, went quickly to his medicine-case, dropped into a glass some liquid from a phial, came over again, and poured a little between the lips; then a little more, as jim's eyes opened again; and at last every drop in the glass trickled down the sinewy throat. presently as they watched him the doctor said: "it will not do. he must have brandy. it has life--food--in it." jim understood the words. he knew that if he drank the brandy the chances against his future were terrible. he had made his vow, and he must keep it. yet the thirst was on him; his enemy had him by the throat again, was dragging him down. though his body was so cold, his throat was on fire. but in the extremity of his strength his mind fought on--fought on, growing weaker every moment. he was having his last fight. they watched him with an aching anxiety, and there was anger in the doctor's face. he had no patience with these forces arrayed against him. at last the doctor whispered to sewell, "it's no use; he must have the brandy, or he can't live an hour." sewell weakened; the tears fell down his rough, hard cheeks. "it'll ruin him--it's ruin or death." "trust a little more in god and in the man's strength. let us give him the chance. force it down his throat--he's not responsible," said the physician, to whom saving life was more than all else. suddenly there appeared at the bedside arrowhead, gaunt and weak, his face swollen, the skin of it broken by the whips of storm. "he is my brother," he said, and, stooping, laid both hands, which he had held before the fire for a long time, on jim's heart. "take his feet, his hands, his legs, and his head in your hands," he said to them all. "life is in us; we will give him life." he knelt down and kept both hands on jim's heart, while the others, even the doctor, awed by his act, did as they were bidden. "shut your eyes. let your life go into him. think of him, and him alone. now!" said arrowhead, in a strange voice. he murmured, and continued murmuring, his body drawing closer and closer to jim's body, while in the deep silence, broken only by the chanting of his low, monotonous voice, the others pressed jim's hands and head and feet and legs--six men under the command of a heathen murderer. the minutes passed. the color came back to jim's face, the skin of his hands filled up, they ceased twitching, his pulse got stronger, his eyes opened with a new light in them. "i'm living, anyhow," he said, at last, with a faint smile. "i'm hungry--broth, please." the fight was won, and arrowhead, the pagan murderer, drew over to the fire and crouched down beside it, his back to the bed, impassive and still. they brought him a bowl of broth and bread, which he drank slowly, and placed the empty bowl between his knees. he sat there through the night, though they tried to make him lie down. as the light came in at the windows, sewell touched him on the shoulder and said, "he is sleeping now." "i hear my brother breathe," answered arrowhead. "he will live." all night he had listened, and had heard jim's breath as only a man who has lived in waste places can hear. "he will live. what i take with one hand i give with the other." he had taken the life of the factor; he had given jim his life. and when he was tried three months later for murder, some one else said this for him, and the hearts of all, judge and jury, were so moved they knew not what to do. but arrowhead was never sentenced, for, at the end of the first day's trial, he lay down to sleep and never waked again. he was found the next morning still and cold, and there was clasped in his hands a little doll which nancy had given him on one of her many visits to the prison during her father's long illness. they found a piece of paper in his belt with these words in the cree language: "with my hands on his heart at the post i gave him the life that was in me, saving but a little until now. arrowhead, the chief, goes to find life again by the well at the root of the tree. _how!_" v on the evening of the day that arrowhead made his journey to "the well at the root of the tree" a stranger knocked at the door of captain templeton's cottage; then, without awaiting admittance, entered. jim was sitting with nancy on his knee, her head against his shoulder, sally at his side, her face alight with some inner joy. before the knock came to the door jim had just said, "why do your eyes shine so, sally? what's in your mind?" she had been about to answer, to say to him what had been swelling her heart with pride, though she had not meant to tell him what he had forgotten--not till midnight. but the figure that entered the room, a big man with deep-set eyes, a man of power who had carried everything before him in the battle of life, answered for her. "you have won the stake, jim," he said, in a hoarse voice. "you and she have won the stake, and i've brought it--brought it." before they could speak he placed in sally's hands bonds for five million dollars. "jim--jim, my son!" he burst out. then, suddenly, he sank into a chair and, putting his head in his hands, sobbed aloud. "my god, but i'm proud of you--speak to me, jim. you've broken me up." he was ashamed of his tears, but he could not wipe them away. "father, dear old man!" said jim, and put his hands on the broad shoulders. sally knelt down beside him, took both the great hands from the tear-stained face, and laid them against her cheek. but presently she put nancy on his knees. "i don't like you to cry," the child said, softly; "but to-day i cried too, 'cause my indian man is dead." the old man could not speak, but he put his cheek down to hers. after a minute, "oh, but she's worth ten times that!" he said, as sally came close to him with the bundle he had thrust into her hands. "what is it?" said jim. "it's five million dollars--for nancy," she said. "five--million--what--?" "the stake, jim," said sally. "if you did not drink for four years--never touched a drop--we were to have five million dollars." "you never told him, then--you never told him that?" asked the old man. "i wanted him to win without it," she said. "if he won, he would be the stronger; if he lost, it would not be so hard for him to bear." the old man drew her down and kissed her cheek. he chuckled, though the tears were still in his eyes. "you are a wonder--the tenth wonder of the world!" he blurted. jim stood staring at the bundle in nancy's hands. "five millions--five million dollars!" he kept saying to himself. "i said nancy's worth ten times that, jim." the old man caught his hand and pressed it. "but it was a damned near thing, i tell you," he added. "they tried to break me and my railways and my bank. i had to fight the combination, and there was one day when i hadn't that five million dollars there, nor five. jim, they tried to break the old man! and if they'd broken me, they'd have made me out a scoundrel to her--to this wife of yours who risked everything for both of us--for both of us, jim; for she'd given up the world to save you, and she was playing like a soul in hell for heaven. if they'd broken me, i'd never have lifted my head again. when things were at their worst i played to save that five millions--her stake and mine; i played for that. i fought for it as a man fights his way out of a burning house. and i won--i won. and it was by fighting for that five millions i saved fifty--fifty millions, son. they didn't break the old man, jim. they didn't break him--not much." "there are giants in the world still," said jim, his own eyes full. he knew now his father and himself, and he knew the meaning of all the bitter and misspent life of the old days. he and his father were on a level of understanding at last. "are you a giant?" asked nancy, peering up into her grandfather's eyes. the old man laughed, then sighed. "perhaps i was once, more or less, my dear," saying to her what he meant for the other two--"perhaps i was; but i've finished. i'm through. i've had my last fight." he looked at his son. "i pass the game on to you, jim. you can do it. i knew you could do it as the reports came in this year. i've had a detective up here for four years. i had to do it. it was the devil in me. you've got to carry on the game, jim; i'm done. i'll stay home and potter about. i want to go back to kentucky, and build up the old place, and take care of it a bit--your mother always loved it. i'd like to have it as it was when she was there long ago. but i'll be ready to help you when i'm wanted, understand." "you want me to run things--your colossal schemes? you think--?" "i don't think. i'm old enough to know," when the swallows homeward fly the arrogant sun had stalked away into the evening, trailing behind him banners of gold and crimson, and a swift twilight was streaming over the land. as the sun passed, the eyes of two men on a high hill followed it, and the look of one was like a light in a window to a lost traveller. it had in it the sense of home and the tale of a journey done. such a journey this man had made as few have ever attempted and fewer accomplished. to the farthermost regions of snow and ice, where the shoulder of a continent juts out into the northwestern arctic seas, he had travelled on foot and alone, save for his dogs, and for indian guides who now and then shepherded him from point to point. the vast ice-hummocks had been his housing; pemmican, the raw flesh of fish, and even the fat and oil of seals had been his food. ever and ever through long months the everlasting white glitter of the snow and ice, ever and ever the cold stars, the cloudless sky, the moon at full, or swung like a white sickle in the sky to warn him that his life must be mown like grass. at night to sleep in a bag of fur and wool, by day the steely wind, or the air shaking with a filmy powder of frost; while the illimitably distant sun made the tiny flakes sparkle like silver--a _poudre_ day, when the face and hands are most like to be frozen, and all so still and white and passionless, yet aching with energy. hundreds upon hundreds of miles that endless trail went winding to the farthest northwest. no human being had ever trod its lengths before, though indians or a stray hudson's bay company man had made journeys over part of it during the years that have passed since prince rupert sent his adventurers to dot that northern land with posts and forts and trace fine arteries of civilization through the wastes. where this man had gone none other had been of white men from the western lands, though from across the wide pacific, from the eastern world, adventurers and exiles had once visited what is now known as the yukon valley. so this man, browsing in the library of his grandfather, an eastern scholar, had come to know; and for love of adventure, and because of the tale of a valley of gold and treasure to be had, and because he had been ruined by bad investments, he had made a journey like none ever essayed before. and on his way up to those regions, where the veil before the face of god is very thin and fine, and men's hearts glow within them, where there was no oasis save the unguessed deposit of a great human dream that his soul could feel, the face of a girl had haunted him. her voice--so sweet a voice that it rang like muffled silver in his ears, till, in the everlasting theatre of the pole, the stars seemed to repeat it through millions of echoing hills, growing softer and softer as the frost hushed it to his ears--had said to him late and early, "you must come back with the swallows." then she had sung a song which had been like a fire in his heart, not alone because of the words of it, but because of the soul in her voice, and it had lain like a coverlet on his heart to keep it warm: "adieu! the sun goes awearily down, the mist creeps up o'er the sleepy town, the white sail bends to the shuddering mere, and the reapers have reaped and the night is here. "adieu! and the years are a broken song, the right grows weak in the strife with wrong, the lilies of love have a crimson stain, and the old days never will come again. "adieu! where the mountains afar are dim 'neath the tremulous tread of the seraphim, shall not our querulous hearts prevail, that have prayed for the peace of the holy grail? "adieu! sometime shall the veil between the things that are and that might have been be folded back for our eyes to see, and the meaning of all shall be clear to me." it had been but an acquaintance of five days while he fitted out for his expedition, but in this brief time it had sunk deep into his mind that life was now a thing to cherish, and that he must indeed come back; though he had left england caring little if, in the peril and danger of his quest, he ever returned. he had been indifferent to his fate till he came to the valley of the saskatchewan, to the town lying at the foot of the maple hill beside the great northern stream, and saw the girl whose life was knit with the far north, whose mother's heart was buried in the great wastes where sir john franklin's expedition was lost; for her husband had been one of the ill-fated if not unhappy band of lovers of that civilization for which they had risked all and lost all save immortality. hither the two had come after he had been cast away on the icy plains, and, as the settlement had crept north, had gone north with it, always on the outer edge of house and field, ever stepping northward. here, with small income but high hearts and quiet souls, they had lived and labored. and when this newcomer from the old land set his face northward to an unknown destination, the two women had prayed as the mother did in the old days when the daughter was but a babe at her knee, and it was not yet certain that franklin and his men had been cast away forever. something in him--his great height, his strength of body, his clear, meditative eyes, his brave laugh--reminded her of him, her husband, who, like sir humphrey gilbert, had said that it mattered little where men did their duty, since god was always near to take or leave as it was his will. when bickersteth went, it was as though one they had known all their lives had passed; and the woman knew also that a new thought had been sown in her daughter's mind, a new door opened in her heart. and he had returned. he was now looking down into the valley where the village lay. far, far over, two days' march away, he could see the cluster of houses, and the glow of the sun on the tin spire of the little mission church where he had heard the girl and her mother sing, till the hearts of all were swept by feeling and ravished by the desire for "the peace of the holy grail." the village was, in truth, but a day's march away from him, but he was not alone, and the journey could not be hastened. beside him, his eyes also upon the sunset and the village, was a man in a costume half-trapper, half-indian, with bushy gray beard and massive frame, and a distant, sorrowful look, like that of one whose soul was tuned to past suffering. as he sat, his head sunk on his breast, his elbow resting on a stump of pine--the token of a progressive civilization--his chin upon his hand, he looked like the figure of moses made immortal by michael angelo. but his strength was not like that of the man beside him, who was thirty years younger. when he walked, it was as one who had no destination, who had no haven toward which to travel, who journeyed as one to whom the world is a wilderness, and one tent or one hut is the same as another, and none is home. like two ships meeting hull to hull on the wide seas, where a few miles of water will hide them from each other, whose ports are thousands of miles apart, whose courses are not the same, they two had met, the elder man, sick and worn and near to death, in the poor hospitality of an indian's tepee. john bickersteth had nursed the old man back to strength, and had brought him southward with him--a silent companion, who spoke in monosyllables, who had no conversation at all of the past and little of the present, but who was a woodsman and an arctic traveller of the most expert kind, who knew by instinct where the best places for shelter and for sleeping might be found, who never complained, and was wonderful with the dogs. close as their association was, bickersteth had felt concerning the other that his real self was in some other sphere or place toward which his mind was always turning, as though to bring it back. again and again had bickersteth tried to get the old man to speak about the past, but he had been met by a dumb sort of look, a straining to understand. once or twice the old man had taken his hands in both of his own and gazed with painful eagerness into his face, as though trying to remember or to comprehend something that eluded him. upon these occasions the old man's eyes dropped tears in an apathetic quiet, which tortured bickersteth beyond bearing. just such a look he had seen in the eyes of a favorite dog when he had performed an operation on it to save its life--a reproachful, non-comprehending, loving gaze. bickersteth understood a little of the chinook language, which is familiar to most indian tribes, and he had learned that the indians knew nothing exact concerning the old man; but rumors had passed from tribe to tribe that this white man had lived forever in the farthest north among the arctic tribes, and that he passed from people to people, disappearing into the untenanted wilderness, but reappearing again among stranger tribes, never resting, and as one always seeking what he could not find. one thing had helped this old man in all his travels and sojourning. he had, as it seemed to the native people, a gift of the hands; for when they were sick a few moments' manipulation of his huge, quiet fingers vanquished pain. a few herbs he gave in tincture, and these also were praised; but it was a legend that when he was persuaded to lay on his hands and close his eyes, and with his fingers to "search for the pain and find it, and kill it," he always prevailed. they believed that, though his body was on earth, his soul was with manitou, and that it was his soul which came into him again, and gave the great spirit's healing to the fingers. this had been the man's safety through how many years--or how many generations--they did not know; for legends regarding the pilgrim had grown and were fostered by the medicine-men, who, by giving him great age and supernatural power, could, with more self-respect, apologize for their own incapacity. so the years--how many it was impossible to tell, since he did not know or would not say--had gone on; and now, after ceaseless wandering, his face was turned toward that civilization out of which he had come so long ago--or was it so long ago?--one generation, or two, or ten? it seemed to bickersteth at times as though it were ten, so strange, so unworldly was his companion. at first he thought that the man remembered more than he would appear to acknowledge, but he found that after a day or two everything that happened as they journeyed was also forgotten. it was only visible things, or sounds, that appeared to open the doors of memory of the most recent happenings. these happenings, if not varied, were of critical moment, since, passing down from the land of unchanging ice and snow, they had come into march and april storms and the perils of the rapids and the swollen floods of may. now, in june, two years and a month since bickersteth had gone into the wilds, they looked down upon the goal of one at least--of the younger man who had triumphed in his quest up in these wilds abandoned centuries ago. with the joyous thought in his heart that he had discovered anew one of the greatest gold-fields of the world, that a journey unparalleled had been accomplished, he turned toward his ancient companion, and a feeling of pity and human love enlarged within him. he, john bickersteth, was going into a world again where--as he believed--a happy fate awaited him; but what of this old man? he had brought him out of the wilds, out of the unknown--was he only taking him into the unknown again? were there friends, any friends anywhere in the world, waiting for him? he called himself by no name, he said he had no name. whence came he? of whom? whither was he wending now? bickersteth had thought of the problem often, and he had no answer for it save that he must be taken care of, if not by others, then by himself; for the old man had saved him from drowning; had also saved him from an awful death on a march day when he fell into a great hole and was knocked insensible in the drifting snow; had saved him from brooding on himself--the beginning of madness--by compelling him to think for another. and sometimes, as he looked at the old man, his imagination had caught the spirit of the legend of the indians, and he had cried out, "o soul, come back and give him memory--give him back his memory, manitou the mighty!" [illustration: the old man shook his head. though not with understanding] looking on the old man now, an impulse seized him. "dear old man," he said, speaking as one speaks to a child that cannot understand, "you shall never want while i have a penny, or have head or hands to work. but is there no one that you care for or that cares for you, that you remember, or that remembers you?" the old man shook his head, though not with understanding, and he laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, and whispered: "once it was always snow, but now it is green, the land. i have seen it--i have seen it once." his shaggy eyebrows gathered over, his eyes searched, searched the face of john bickersteth. "once, so long ago--i cannot think," he added, helplessly. "dear old man," bickersteth said, gently, knowing he would not wholly comprehend, "i am going to ask her--alice--to marry me, and if she does, she will help look after you, too. neither of us would have been here without the other, dear old man, and we shall not be separated. whoever you are, you are a gentleman, and you might have been my father or hers--or hers." he stopped suddenly. a thought had flashed through his mind, a thought which stunned him, which passed like some powerful current through his veins, shocked him, then gave him a palpitating life. it was a wild thought, but yet why not?--why not? there was the chance, the faint, far-off chance. he caught the old man by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, scanned his features, pushed back the hair from the rugged forehead. "dear old man," he said, his voice shaking, "do you know what i'm thinking? i'm thinking that you may be of those who went out to the arctic sea with sir john franklin--with sir john franklin, you understand. did you know sir john franklin?--is it true, dear old boy?--is it true? are you one that has lived to tell the tale? did you know sir john franklin?--is it--tell me, is it true?" he let go the old man's shoulders, for over the face of the other there had passed a change. it was strained and tense. the hands were outstretched, the eyes were staring straight into the west and the coming night. "it is--it is--that's it!" cried bickersteth. "that's it--oh, love o' god, that's it! sir john franklin--sir john franklin, and all the brave lads that died up there! you remember the ship--the arctic sea--the ice-fields, and franklin--you remember him? dear old man, say you remember franklin?" the thing had seized him. conviction was upon him, and he watched the other's anguished face with anguish and excitement in his own. but--but it might be, it might be her father--the eyes, the forehead are like hers; the hands, the long hands, the pointed fingers. "dear old man, did you have a wife and child, and were they both called alice--do you remember? franklin!--alice! do you remember?" the old man got slowly to his feet, his arms outstretched, the look in his face changing, understanding, struggling for its place, memory fighting for its own, the soul contending for its mastery. "franklin--alice--the snow," he said, confusedly, and sank down. "god have mercy!" cried bickersteth, as he caught the swaying body and laid it upon the ground. "he was there--almost." he settled the old man against the great pine stump and chafed his hands. "man, dear man, if you belong to her--if you do, can't you see what it will mean to me? she can't say no to me then. but if it's true, you'll belong to england and to all the world, too, and you'll have fame everlasting. i'll have gold for her and for you, and for your alice, too, dear old man. wake up now and remember if you are dyke allingham, who went with franklin to the silent seas of the pole. if it's you, really you, what wonder you lost your memory! you saw them all die, franklin and all, die there in the snow, with all the white world round them. if you were there, what a travel you have had, what strange things you have seen! where the world is loneliest, god lives most. if you get close to the heart of things, it's no marvel you forgot what you were, or where you came from; because it didn't matter; you knew that you were only one of thousands of millions who have come and gone, that make up the soul of things, that make the pulses of the universe beat. that's it, dear old man. the universe would die, if it weren't for the souls that leave this world and fill it with life. wake up! wake up, allingham, and tell us where you've been, and what you've seen." he did not labor in vain. slowly consciousness came back, and the gray eyes opened wide, the lips smiled faintly under the bushy beard; but bickersteth saw that the look in the face was much the same as it had been before. the struggle had been too great, the fight for the other lost self had exhausted him, mind and body, and only a deep obliquity and a great weariness filled the countenance. he had come back to the verge, he had almost again discovered himself; but the opening door had shut fast suddenly, and he was back again in the night, the incompanionable night of forgetfulness. bickersteth saw that the travail and strife had drained life and energy, and that he must not press the mind and vitality of this exile of time and the unknown too far. he felt that when the next test came the old man would either break completely, and sink down into another and everlasting forgetfulness, or tear away forever the veil between himself and his past, and emerge into a long-lost life. his strength must be shepherded, and he must be kept quiet and undisturbed until they came to the town yonder in the valley, over which the night was slowly settling down. there two women waited, the two alices, from both of whom had gone lovers into the north. the daughter was living over again in her young love the pangs of suspense through which her mother had passed. two years since bickersteth had gone, and not a sign! yet, if the girl had looked from her bedroom window, this friday night, she would have seen on the far hill a sign; for there burned a fire beside which sat two travellers who had come from the uttermost limits of snow. but as the fire burned--a beacon to her heart if she had but known it--she went to her bed, the words of a song she had sung at choir-practice with tears in her voice and in her heart ringing in her ears. a concert was to be held after the service on the coming sunday night, at which there was to be a collection for funds to build another mission-house a hundred miles farther north, and she had been practising music she was to sing. her mother had been an amateur singer of great power, and she was renewing her mother's gift in a voice behind which lay a hidden sorrow. as she cried herself to sleep the words of the song which had moved her kept ringing in her ears and echoing in her heart: "when the swallows homeward fly, and the roses' bloom is o'er--" but her mother, looking out into the night, saw on the far hill the fire, burning like a star, where she had never seen a fire set before, and a hope shot into her heart for her daughter--a hope that had flamed up and died down so often during the past year. yet she had fanned with heartening words every such glimmer of hope when it came, and now she went to bed saying, "perhaps he will come to-morrow." in her mind, too, rang the words of the song which had ravished her ears that night, the song she had sung the night before her own husband, dyke allingham, had gone with franklin to the polar seas: "when the swallows homeward fly--" as she and her daughter entered the little church on the sunday evening, two men came over the prairie slowly toward the town, and both raised their heads to the sound of the church-bell calling to prayer. in the eyes of the younger man there was a look which has come to many in this world returning from hard enterprise and great dangers, to the familiar streets, the friendly faces of men of their kin and clan--to the lights of home. the face of the older man, however, had another look. it was such a look as is seldom seen in the faces of men, for it showed the struggle of a soul to regain its identity. the words which the old man had uttered in response to bickersteth's appeal before he fainted away--"franklin--alice--the snow"--had showed that he was on the verge; the bells of the church pealing in the summer air brought him near it once again. how many years had gone since he had heard church-bells? bickersteth, gazing at him in eager scrutiny, wondered if, after all, he might be mistaken about him. but no, this man had never been born and bred in the far north. his was a type which belonged to the civilization from which he himself had come. there would soon be the test of it all. yet he shuddered, too, to think what might happen if it was all true, and discovery or reunion should shake to the centre the very life of the two long-parted ones. he saw the look of perplexed pain and joy at once in the face of the old man, but he said nothing, and he was almost glad when the bell stopped. the old man turned to him. "what is it?" he said. "i remember--" but he stopped suddenly, shaking his head. an hour later, cleared of the dust of travel, the two walked slowly toward the church from the little tavern where they were lodged. the service was now over, but the concert had begun. the church was full, and there were people in the porch; but these made way for the two strangers; and, as bickersteth was recognized by two or three present, place was found for them. inside, the old man stared round him in a confused and troubled way, but his motions were quiet and abstracted, and he looked like some old viking, his workaday life done, come to pray ere he went hence forever. they had entered in a pause in the concert, but now two ladies came forward to the chancel steps, and one with her hands clasped before her, began to sing: "when the swallows homeward fly, and the roses' bloom is o'er, and the nightingale's sweet song in the woods is heard no more--" it was alice--alice the daughter--and presently the mother, the other alice, joined in the refrain. at sight of them bickersteth's eyes had filled, not with tears, but with a cloud of feeling, so that he went blind. there she was, the girl he loved. her voice was ringing in his ears. in his own joy for one instant he had forgotten the old man beside him and the great test that was now upon him. he turned quickly, however, as the old man got to his feet. for an instant the lost exile of the north stood as though transfixed. the blood slowly drained from his face, and in his eyes was an agony of struggle and desire. for a moment an awful confusion had the mastery, and then suddenly a clear light broke into his eyes, his face flushed healthily and shone, his arms went up, and there rang in his ears the words: "then i think, with bitter pain, shall we ever meet again when the swallows homeward fly?" "alice!--alice!" he called, and tottered forward up the aisle, followed by john bickersteth. "alice, i have come back!" he cried again. george's wife "she's come, and she can go back. no one asked her, no one wants her, and she's got no rights here. she thinks she'll come it over me, but she'll get nothing, and there's no place for her here." the old, gray-bearded man, gnarled and angular, with overhanging brows and a harsh face, made this little speech of malice and unfriendliness, looking out on the snow-covered prairie through the window. far in the distance were a sleigh and horses like a spot in the snow, growing larger from minute to minute. it was a day of days. overhead the sun was pouring out a flood of light and warmth, and, though it was bitterly cold, life was beating hard in the bosom of the west. men walked lightly, breathed quickly, and their eyes were bright with the brightness of vitality and content. even the old man at the window of this lonely house, in a great, lonely stretch of country, with the cedar hills behind it, had a living force which defied his seventy-odd years, though the light in his face was hard and his voice was harder still. under the shelter of the foothills, cold as the day was, his cattle were feeding in the open, scratching away the thin layer of snow and browsing on the tender grass underneath. an arctic world in appearance, it had an abounding life which made it friendly and generous--the harshness belonged to the surface. so, perhaps, it was with the old man who watched the sleigh in the distance coming nearer, but that in his nature on which any one could feed was not so easily reached as the fresh young grass under the protecting snow. "she'll get nothing out of me," he repeated, as the others in the room behind him made no remark, and his eyes ranged gloatingly over the cattle under the foothills and the buildings which he had gathered together to proclaim his substantial greatness in the west. "not a _sou markee_!" he added, clinking some coins in his pocket. "she's got no rights." "cassy's got as much right here as any of us, abel, and she's coming to say it, i guess." the voice which spoke was unlike a western voice. it was deep and full and slow, with an organ-like quality. it was in good-keeping with the tall, spare body and large, fine, rugged face of the woman to whom it belonged. she sat in a rocking-chair, but did not rock, her fingers busy with the knitting-needles, her feet planted squarely on the home-made hassock at her feet. the old man waited for a minute in a painful silence, then he turned slowly round, and, with tight-pressed lips, looked at the woman in the rocking-chair. if it had been any one else who had "talked back" at him, he would have made quick work of them, for he was of that class of tyrant who pride themselves on being self-made, and have an undue respect for their own judgment and importance. but the woman who had ventured to challenge his cold-blooded remarks about his dead son's wife, now hastening over the snow to the house her husband had left under a cloud eight years before, had no fear of him, and, maybe, no deep regard for him. he respected her, as did all who knew her--a very reticent, thoughtful, busy being, who had been like a well of comfort to so many that had drunk and passed on out of her life, out of time and time's experiences. seventy-nine years saw her still upstanding, strong, full of work, and fuller of life's knowledge. it was she who had sent the horses and sleigh for cassy when the old man, having read the letter that cassy had written him, said that she could "freeze at the station" for all of him. aunt kate had said nothing then, but, when the time came, by her orders the sleigh and horses were at the station; and the old man had made no direct protest, for she was the one person he had never dominated nor bullied. if she had only talked, he would have worn her down, for he was fond of talking, and it was said by those who were cynical and incredulous about him that he had gone to prayer-meetings, had been a local preacher, only to hear his own voice. probably, if there had been any politics in the west in his day, he would have been a politician, though it would have been too costly for his taste, and religion was very cheap; it enabled him to refuse to join in many forms of expenditure, on the ground that he "did not hold by such things." in aunt kate, the sister of his wife, dead so many years ago, he had found a spirit stronger than his own. he valued her; he had said more than once, to those who he thought would never repeat it to her, that she was a "great woman"; but self-interest was the mainspring of his appreciation. since she had come again to his house--she had lived with him once before for two years when his wife was slowly dying--it had been a different place. housekeeping had cost less than before, yet the cooking was better, the place was beautifully clean, and discipline without rigidity reigned everywhere. one by one the old woman's boys and girls had died--four of them--and she was now alone, with not a single grandchild left to cheer her; and the life out here with abel baragar had been unrelieved by much that was heartening to a woman; for black andy, abel's son, was not an inspiring figure, though even his moroseness gave way under her influence. so it was that when cassy's letter came her breast seemed to grow warmer and swell with longing to see the wife of her nephew, who had such a bad reputation in abel's eyes, and to see george's little boy, who was coming, too. after all, whatever cassy was, she was the mother of abel's son's son; and aunt kate was too old and wise to be frightened by tales told of cassy or any one else. so, having had her own way so far regarding cassy's coming, she looked abel calmly in the eyes, over the gold-rimmed spectacles which were her dearest possession--almost the only thing of value she had. she was not afraid of abel's anger, and he knew it; but his eldest son, black andy, was present, and he must make a show of being master of the situation. "aunt kate," he said, "i didn't make a fuss about you sending the horses and sleigh for her, because women do fool things sometimes. i suppose curiosity got the best of you. anyhow, mebbe it's right cassy should find out, once for all, how things stand, and that they haven't altered since she took george away, and ruined his life, and sent him to his grave. that's why i didn't order mick back when i saw him going out with the team." "cassy mavor," interjected a third voice from a corner behind the great stove--"cassy mavor, of the variety-dance-and-song, and a talk with the gallery between!" aunt kate looked over at black andy, and stopped knitting, for there was that in the tone of the sullen ranchman which stirred in her a sudden anger, and anger was a rare and uncomfortable sensation to her. a flush crept slowly over her face, then it died away, and she said quietly to black andy--for she had ever prayed to be master of the demon of temper down deep in her, and she was praying now-"she earnt her living by singing and dancing, and she's brought up george's boy by it, and singing and dancing isn't a crime. david danced before the lord. i danced myself when i was a young girl, and before i joined the church. 'twas about the only pleasure i ever had; 'bout the only one i like to remember. there's no difference to me 'twixt making your feet handy and clever and full of music, and playing with your fingers on the piano or on a melodeon at a meeting. as for singing, it's god's gift; and many a time i wisht i had it. i'd have sung the blackness out of your face and heart, andy." she leaned back again and began to knit very fast. "i'd like to hear cassy sing, and see her dance, too." black andy chuckled coarsely. "i often heard her sing and saw her dance down at lumley's before she took george away east. you wouldn't have guessed she had consumption. she knocked the boys over down to lumley's. the first night at lumley's done for george." black andy's face showed no lightening of its gloom as he spoke, but there was a firing-up of the black eyes, and the woman with the knitting felt that--for whatever reason--he was purposely irritating his father. "the devil was in her heels and in her tongue," andy continued. "with her big mouth, red hair, and little eyes she'd have made anybody laugh. i laughed." "you laughed!" snapped out his father, with a sneer. black andy's eyes half closed with a morose look, then he went on: "yes, i laughed at cassy. while she was out here at lumley's getting cured, accordin' to the doctor's orders, things seemed to get a move on in the west. but it didn't suit professing christians like you, dad." he jerked his head toward the old man and drew the spittoon near with his feet. "the west hasn't been any worse off since she left," snarled the old man. "well, she took george with her," grimly retorted black andy. abel baragar's heart had been warmer toward his dead son george than to any one else in the world. george had been as fair of face and hair as andrew was dark, as cheerful and amusing as andrew was gloomy and dispiriting, as agile and dexterous of mind and body as his brother was slow and angular, as emotional and warm-hearted as the other was phlegmatic and sour--or so it seemed to the father and to nearly all others. in those old days they had not been very well off. the railway was not completed, and the west had not begun "to move." the old man had bought and sold land and cattle and horses, always living on a narrow margin of safety, but in the hope that one day the choice bits of land he was shepherding here and there would take a leap up in value; and his judgment had been right. his prosperity had all come since george went away with cassy mavor. his anger at george had been the more acute, because the thing happened at a time when his affairs were on the edge of a precipice. he had won through it, but only by the merest shave, and it had all left him with a bad spot in his heart, in spite of his "having religion." whenever he remembered george he instinctively thought of those black days when a land and cattle syndicate was crowding him over the edge into the chasm of failure, and came so near doing it. a few thousand dollars less to put up here and there, and he would have been ruined; his blood became hotter whenever he thought of it. he had had to fight the worst of it through alone, for george, who had been useful as a kind of buyer and seller, who was ever all things to all men, and ready with quip and jest, and not a little uncertain as to truth--to which the old man shut his eyes when there was a "deal" on--had, in the end, been of no use at all, and had seemed to go to pieces just when he was most needed. his father had put it all down to cassy mavor, who had unsettled things since she had come to lumley's, and, being a man of very few ideas, he cherished those he had with an exaggerated care. prosperity had not softened him; it had given him an arrogance unduly emphasized by a reputation for rigid virtue and honesty. the indirect attack which andrew now made on george's memory roused him to anger, as much because it seemed to challenge his own judgment as cast a slight on the name of the boy whom he had cast off, yet who had a firmer hold on his heart than any human being ever had. it had only been pride which had prevented him from making it up with george before it was too late; but, all the more, he was set against the woman who "kicked up her heels for a living"; and, all the more, he resented black andy, who, in his own grim way, had managed to remain a partner with him in their present prosperity, and had done so little for it. "george helped to make what you've got," he said, darkly, now. "the west missed george. the west said, 'there was a good man ruined by a woman.' the west'd never think anything or anybody missed you, 'cept yourself. when you went north, it never missed you; when you come back, its jaw fell. you wasn't fit to black george's boots." black andy's mouth took on a bitter sort of smile, and his eyes drooped furtively as he struck the damper of the stove heavily with his foot; then he replied, slowly: "well, that's all right; but if i wasn't fit to black his boots, it ain't my fault. i git my nature honest, as he did. we wasn't any cross-breeds, i s'pose. we got the strain direct, and we was all right on her side." he jerked his head toward aunt kate, whose face was growing pale. she interposed now. "can't you leave the dead alone?" she asked, in a voice ringing a little. "can't you let them rest? ain't it enough to quarrel about the living? cassy'll be here soon," she added, peering out of the window, "and if i was you i'd try and not make her sorry she ever married a baragar. it ain't a feeling that'd make a sick woman live long." aunt kate did not strike often, but when she did she struck hard. abel baragar staggered a little under this blow, for, at the moment, it seemed to him that he saw his dead wife's face looking at him from the chair where her sister now sat. down in his ill-furnished heart, where there had been little which was companionable, there was a shadowed corner. sophy baragar had been such a true-hearted, brave-souled woman, and he had been so impatient and exacting with her, till the beautiful face, which had been reproduced in george, had lost its color and its fire, had become careworn and sweet with that sweetness which goes early out of the world. in all her days the vanished wife had never hinted at as much as aunt kate suggested now, and abel baragar shut his eyes against the thing which he was seeing. he was not all hard, after all. aunt kate turned to black andy now. "mebbe cassy ain't for long," she said. "mebbe she's come out for what she came out for before. it seems to me it's that, or she wouldn't have come; because she's young yet, and she's fond of her boy, and she'd not want to bury herself alive out here with us. mebbe her lungs is bad again." "then she's sure to get another husband out here," said the old man, recovering himself. "she got one before easy, on the same ticket." with something of malice he looked over at black andy. "if she can sing and dance as she done nine years ago, i shouldn't wonder," answered black andy, smoothly. these two men knew each other; they had said hard things to each other for many a year, yet they lived on together unshaken by each other's moods and bitternesses. "i'm getting old--i'm seventy-nine--and i ain't for long," urged aunt kate, looking abel in the eyes. "some day soon i'll be stepping out and away. then things'll go to sixes and sevens, as they did after sophy died. some one ought to be here that's got a right to be here, not a hired woman." suddenly the old man raged out: "her--off the stage to look after this! her, that's kicked up her heels for a living! it's--no, she's no good. she's common. she's come, and she can go. i ain't having sweepings from the streets living here as if they had rights." aunt kate set her lips. "sweepings! you've got to take that back, abel. it's not christian. you've got to take that back." "he'll take it back all right before we've done, i guess," remarked black andy. "he'll take a lot back." "truth's truth, and i'll stand by it, and--" the old man stopped, for there came to them now, clearly, the sound of sleigh-bells. they all stood still for an instant, silent and attentive, then aunt kate moved toward the door. "cassy's come," she said. "cassy and george's boy've come." another instant and the door was opened on the beautiful, white, sparkling world, and the low sleigh, with its great, warm, buffalo robes, in which the small figures of a woman and a child were almost lost, stopped at the door. two whimsical but tired eyes looked over a rim of fur at the old woman in the doorway, then cassy's voice rang out: "hello! that's aunt kate, i know! well, here we are, and here's my boy. jump, george!" a moment later and the gaunt old woman folded both mother and son in her arms and drew them into the room. the door was shut, and they all faced one another. the old man and black andy did not move, but stood staring at the trim figure in black, with the plain face, large mouth, and tousled red hair, and the dreamy-eyed, handsome little boy beside her. black andy stood behind the stove, looking over at the new-comers with quizzical, almost furtive eyes, and his father remained for a moment with mouth open, gazing at his dead son's wife and child, as though not quite comprehending the scene. the sight of the boy had brought back, in some strange, embarrassing way, a vision of thirty years before, when george was a little boy in buckskin pants and jacket, and was beginning to ride the prairie with him. this boy was like george, yet not like him. the face was george's, the sensuous, luxurious mouth; but the eyes were not those of a baragar, nor yet those of aunt kate's family; and they were not wholly like the mother's. they were full and brimming, while hers were small and whimsical; yet they had her quick, humorous flashes and her quaintness. "have i changed so much? have you forgotten me?" cassy asked, looking the old man in the eyes. "you look as strong as a bull." she held out her hand to him and laughed. "hope i see you well," said abel baragar, mechanically, as he took the hand and shook it awkwardly. "oh, i'm all right," answered the nonchalant little woman, undoing her jacket. "shake hands with your grandfather, george. that's right--don't talk too much," she added, with a half-nervous little laugh, as the old man, with a kind of fixed smile, and the child shook hands in silence. presently she saw black andy behind the stove. "well, andy, have you been here ever since?" she asked, and, as he came forward, she suddenly caught him by both arms, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. "last time i saw you, you were behind the stove at lumley's. nothing's ever too warm for you," she added. "you'd be shivering on the equator. you were always hugging the stove at lumley's." "things were pretty warm there, too, cassy," he said, with a sidelong look at his father. she saw the look, her face flushed with sudden temper, then her eyes fell on her boy, now lost in the arms of aunt kate, and she curbed herself. "there were plenty of things doing at lumley's in those days," she said, brusquely. "we were all young and fresh then," she added, and then something seemed to catch her voice, and she coughed a little--a hard, dry, feverish cough. "are the lumleys all right? are they still there, at the forks?" she asked, after the little paroxysm of coughing. "cleaned out--all scattered. we own the lumleys' place now," replied black andy, with another sidelong glance at his father, who, as he put some more wood on the fire and opened the damper of the stove wider, grimly watched and listened. "jim, and lance, and jerry, and abner?" she asked, almost abstractedly. "jim's dead--shot by a u. s. marshal by mistake for a smuggler," answered black andy, suggestively. "lance is up on the yukon, busted; jerry is one of our hands on the place; and abner is in jail." "abner--in jail!" she exclaimed, in a dazed way. "what did he do? abner always seemed so straight." [illustration: george's wife] "oh, he sloped with a thousand dollars of the railway people's money. they caught him, and he got seven years." "he was married, wasn't he?" she asked, in a low voice. "yes, to phenie tyson. there's no children, so she's all right, and divorce is cheap over in the states, where she is now." "phenie tyson didn't marry abner because he was a saint, but because he was a man, i suppose," she replied, gravely. "and the old folks?" "both dead. what abner done sent the old man to his grave. but abner's mother died a year before." "what abner done killed his father," said abel baragar, with dry emphasis. "phenie tyson was extravagant--wanted this and that, and nothin' was too good for her. abner spoilt his life gettin' her what she wanted; and it broke old ezra lumley's heart." george's wife looked at him for a moment with her eyes screwed up, and then she laughed softly. "my, it's curious how some folks go up and some go down! it must be lonely for phenie waiting all these years for abner to get free.... i had the happiest time in my life at lumley's. i was getting better of my--cold. while i was there i got lots of strength stored up, to last me many a year when i needed it; and, then, george and i were married at lumley's!" aunt kate came slowly over with the boy and laid a hand on cassy's shoulder, for there was an undercurrent to the conversation which boded no good. the very first words uttered had plunged abel baragar and his son's wife into the midst of the difficulty which she had hoped might, after all, be avoided. "come, and i'll show you your room, cassy," she said. "it faces south, and you'll get the sun all day. it's like a sun-parlor. we're going to have supper in a couple of hours, and you must rest some first. is the house warm enough for you?" the little, garish woman did not reply directly, but shook back her red hair and caught her boy to her breast and kissed him; then she said, in that staccato manner which had given her words on the stage such point and emphasis: "oh, this house is a'most too warm for me, aunt kate!" then she moved toward the door with the grave, kindly old woman, her son's hand in her own. "you can see the lumleys' place from your window, cassy," said black andy, grimly. "we got a mortgage on it, and foreclosed it, and it's ours now; and jerry lumley's stock-riding for us. anyhow, he's better off than abner, or abner's wife." cassy turned at the door and faced him. instinctively she caught at some latent conflict with old abel baragar in what black andy had said, and her face softened, for it suddenly flashed into her mind that he was not against her. "i'm glad to be back west," she said. "it meant a lot to me when i was at lumley's." she coughed a little again, but turned to the door with a laugh. "how long have you come to stay here--out west?" asked the old man, furtively. "oh, there's plenty of time to think of that!" she answered, brusquely, and she heard black andy laugh derisively as the door closed behind her. * * * * * in a blaze of joy the sun swept down behind the southern hills, and the windows of lumley's house at the forks, catching the oblique rays, glittered and shone like flaming silver. nothing of life showed, save the cattle here and there, creeping away to the shelter of the foothills for the night. the white, placid snow made a coverlet as wide as the vision of the eye, save where spruce and cedar trees gave a touch of warmth and refuge here and there. a wonderful, buoyant peace seemed to rest upon the wide, silent expanse. the birds of song were gone south over the hills, and the living wild things of the prairies had stolen into winter-quarters. yet, as cassy mavor looked out upon the exquisite beauty of the scene, upon the splendid outspanning of the sun along the hills, the deep plangent blue of the sky and the thrilling light, she saw a world in agony and she heard the moans of the afflicted. the sun shone bright on the windows of lumley's house, but she could hear the crying of abner's wife, and of old ezra and eliza lumley, when their children were stricken or shamed; when abel baragar drew tighter and tighter the chains of the mortgage, which at last made them tenants in the house once their own. only eight years ago, and all this had happened. and what had not happened to her, too, in those eight years! with george--reckless, useless, loving, lying george--she had left lumley's with her sickness cured, as it seemed, after a long year in the west, and had begun life again. what sort of life had it been? "kicking up her heels on the stage," as abel baragar had said; but, somehow, not as it was before she went west to give her perforated lung to the healing air of the plains, and to live out-doors with the men--a man's life. then she had never put a curb on her tongue, or greatly on her actions, except that, though a hundred men quarrelled openly, or in their own minds, about her, no one had ever had any _right_ to quarrel about her. with a tongue which made men gasp with laughter, with as comic a gift as ever woman had, and as equally comic a face, she had been a good-natured little tyrant in her way. she had given a kiss here and there, and had taken one, but always there had been before her mind the picture of a careworn woman who struggled to bring up her three children honestly, and without the help of charity, and, with a sigh of content and weariness, had died as cassy made her first hit on the stage and her name became a household word. and cassy, garish, gay, freckled, witty, and whimsical, had never forgotten those days when her mother prayed and worked her heart out to do her duty by her children. cassy mavor had made her following, had won her place, was the idol of "the gallery"; and yet she was "of the people," as she had always been, until her first sickness came, and she had gone out to lumley's, out along the foothills of the rockies. what had made her fall in love with george baragar? she could not have told, if she had been asked. he was wayward, given to drink at times, given also to card-playing and racing; but he had a way with him which few women could resist and that made men his friends; and he had a sense of humor akin to her own. in any case, one day she let him catch her up in his arms, and there was the end of it. but no, not the end, after all. it was only the beginning of real life for her. all that had gone before seemed but playing on the threshold, though it had meant hard, bitter hard, work, and temptation, and patience, and endurance of many kinds. and now george was gone forever. but george's little boy lay there on the bed in a soft sleep, with all his life before him. she turned from the warm window and the buoyant, inspiring scene to the bed. stooping over, she kissed the sleeping boy with an abrupt eagerness, and made a little awkward, hungry gesture of love over him, and her face flushed hot with the passion of motherhood in her. "all i've got now," she murmured. "nothing else left--nothing else at all." she heard the door open behind her, and she turned round. aunt kate was entering with a bowl in her hands. "i heard you moving about, and i've brought you something hot to drink," she said. "that's real good of you, aunt kate," was the cheerful reply. "but it's near supper-time, and i don't need it." "it's boneset tea--for your cold," answered aunt kate, gently, and put it on the high dressing-table made of a wooden box and covered with muslin. "for your cold, cassy," she repeated. the little woman stood still a moment gazing at the steaming bowl, lines growing suddenly around her mouth, then she looked at aunt kate quizzically. "is my cold bad--so bad that i need boneset?" she asked, in a queer, constrained voice. "it's comforting, is boneset tea, even when there's no cold, 'specially when the whiskey's good, and the boneset and camomile has steeped some days." "have you been steeping them some days?" cassy asked, softly, eagerly. aunt kate nodded, then tried to explain. "it's always good to be prepared, and i didn't know but what the cold you used to have might be come back," she said. "but i'm glad if it ain't--if that cough of yours is only one of the measly little hacks people get in the east, where it's so damp." cassy was at the window again, looking out at the dying radiance of the sun. her voice seemed hollow and strange and rather rough, as she said, in reply: "it's a real cold, deep down, the same as i had nine years ago, aunt kate; and it's come to stay, i guess. that's why i came back west. but i couldn't have gone to lumley's again, even if they were at the forks now, for i'm too poor. i'm a back-number now. i had to give up singing and dancing a year ago, after george died. so i don't earn my living any more, and i had to come to george's father, with george's boy." aunt kate had a shrewd mind, and was tactful, too. she did not understand why cassy, who had earned so much money all these years, should be so poor now, unless it was that she hadn't saved--that she and george hadn't saved. but, looking at the face before her, and the child on the bed, she was convinced that the woman was a good woman; that, singer and dancer as she was, there was no reason why any home should be closed to her, or any heart should shut its doors before her. she guessed a reason for this poverty of cassy mavor, but it only made her lay a hand on the little woman's shoulders and look into her eyes. "cassy," she said, gently, "you was right to come here. there's trials before you, but for the boy's sake you must bear them. sophy, george's mother, had to bear them, and abel was fond of her, too, in his way. he's stored up a lot of things to say, and he'll say them; but you'll keep the boy in your mind, and be patient, won't you, cassy? you got rights here, and it's comfortable, and there's plenty, and the air will cure your lung as it did before. it did all right before, didn't it?" she handed the bowl of boneset tea. "take it; it'll do you good, cassy," she added. cassy said nothing in reply. she looked at the bed where her boy lay, she looked at the angular face of the woman, with its brooding motherliness, at the soft, gray hair, and, with a little gasp of feeling, she raised the bowl to her lips and drank freely. then, putting it down, she said: "he doesn't mean to have us, aunt kate, but i'll try and keep my temper down. did he ever laugh in his life?" "he laughs sometimes--kind o' laughs." "i'll make him laugh real, if i can," cassy rejoined. "i've made a lot of people laugh in my time." the old woman leaned suddenly over, and drew the red, ridiculous head to her shoulder with a gasp of affection, and her eyes were full of tears. "cassy," she exclaimed, "cassy, you make me cry!" and then she turned and hurried from the room. three hours later the problem was solved in the big sitting-room where cassy had first been received with her boy. aunt kate sat with her feet on a hassock, rocking gently and watching and listening. black andy was behind the great stove with his chair tilted back, carving the bowl of a pipe; the old man sat rigid by the table, looking straight before him and smacking his lips now and then as he was wont to do at meeting; while cassy, with her chin in her hands and elbows on her knees, gazed into the fire and waited for the storm to break. her little flashes of humor at dinner had not brightened things, and she had had an insane desire to turn cartwheels round the room, so implacable and highly strained was the attitude of the master of the house, so unctuous was the grace and the thanksgiving before and after the meal. abel baragar had stored up his anger and his righteous antipathy for years, and this was the first chance he had had of visiting his displeasure on the woman who had "ruined" george, and who had now come to get "rights," which he was determined she should not have. he had steeled himself against seeing any good in her whatever. self-will, self-pride, and self-righteousness were big in him, and so the supper had ended in silence, and with a little attack of coughing on the part of cassy, which made her angry at herself. then the boy had been put to bed, and she had come back to await the expected outburst. she could feel it in the air, and while her blood tingled in a desire to fight this tyrant to the bitter end, she thought of her boy and his future, and she calmed the tumult in her veins. she did not have to wait very long. the querulous voice of the old man broke the silence. "when be you goin' back east? what time did you fix for goin'?" he asked. she raised her head and looked at him squarely. "i didn't fix any time for going east again," she replied. "i came out west this time to stay." "i thought you was on the stage," was the rejoinder. "i've left the stage. my voice went when i got a bad cold again, and i couldn't stand the draughts of the theatre, and so i couldn't dance, either. i'm finished with the stage. i've come out here for good and all." "where did you think of livin' out here?" "i'd like to have gone to lumley's, but that's not possible, is it? anyway, i couldn't afford it now. so i thought i'd stay here, if there was room for me." "you want to board here?" "i didn't put it to myself that way. i thought perhaps you'd be glad to have me. i'm handy. i can cook, i can sew, and i'm quite cheerful and kind. then there's george--little george. i thought you'd like to have your grandson here with you." "i've lived without him--or his father--for eight years, an' i could bear it awhile yet, mebbe." there was a half-choking sound from the old woman in the rocking-chair, but she did not speak, though her knitting dropped into her lap. "but if you knew us better, perhaps you'd like us better," rejoined cassy, gently. "we're both pretty easy to get on with, and we see the bright side of things. he has a wonderful disposition, has george." "i ain't goin' to like you any better," said the old man, getting to his feet. "i ain't goin' to give you any rights here. i've thought it out, and my mind's made up. you can't come it over me. you ruined my boy's life and sent him to his grave. he'd have lived to be an old man out here; but you spoiled him. you trapped him into marrying you, with your kicking and your comic songs, and your tricks of the stage, and you parted us--parted him and me forever." "that was your fault. george wanted to make it up." "with you!" the old man's voice rose shrilly, the bitterness and passion of years was shooting high in the narrow confines of his mind. the geyser of his prejudice and antipathy was furiously alive. "to come back with you that ruined him and broke up my family, and made my life like bitter aloes! no! and if i wouldn't have him with you, do you think i'll have you without him? by the god of israel, no!" black andy was now standing up behind the stove intently watching, his face grim and sombre; aunt kate sat with both hands gripping the arms of the rocker. cassy got slowly to her feet. "i've been as straight a woman as your mother or your wife ever was," she said, "and all the world knows it. i'm poor--and i might have been rich. i was true to myself before i married george, and i was true to george after, and all i earned he shared; and i've got little left. the mining stock i bought with what i saved went smash, and i'm poor as i was when i started to work for myself. i can work awhile yet; but i wanted to see if i could fit in out here and get well again, and have my boy fixed in the house of his grandfather. that's the way i'm placed, and that's how i came. but give a dog a bad name--ah, you shame your dead boy in thinking bad of me! i didn't ruin him. i didn't kill him. he never came to any bad through me. i helped him; he was happy. why, i--" she stopped suddenly, putting a hand to her mouth. "go on, say what you want to say, and let's understand once for all," she added, with a sudden sharpness. abel baragar drew himself up. "well, i say this. i'll give you three thousand dollars, and you can go somewhere else to live. i'll keep the boy here. that's what i've fixed in my mind to do. you can go, and the boy stays. i ain't goin' to live with you that spoiled george's life." the eyes of the woman dilated, she trembled with a sudden rush of anger, then stood still, staring in front of her without a word. black andy stepped from behind the stove. "you are going to stay here, cassy," he said, "here where you have rights as good as any, and better than any, if it comes to that." he turned to his father. "you thought a lot of george," he added. "he was the apple of your eye. he had a soft tongue, and most people liked him; but george was foolish--i've known it all these years. george was pretty foolish. he gambled, he bet at races, he speculated--wild. you didn't know it. he took ten thousand dollars of your money, got from the wonegosh farm he sold for you. he--" cassy mavor started forward with a cry, but black andy waved her down. "no, i'm going to tell it. george lost your ten thousand dollars, dad, gambling, racing, speculating. he told her--cassy--two days after they was married, and she took the money she earned on the stage and give it to him to pay you back on the quiet through the bank. you never knew, but that's the kind of boy your son george was, and that's the kind of wife he had. george told me all about it when i went east six years ago." he came over to cassy and stood beside her. "i'm standing by george's wife," he said, taking her hand, while she shut her eyes in her misery--had she not hid her husband's wrong-doing all these years?--"i'm standing by her. if it hadn't been for that ten thousand dollars she paid back for george, you'd have been swamped, when the syndicate got after you, and we wouldn't have had lumley's place, nor this, nor anything. i guess she's got rights here, dad, as good as any." the old man sank slowly into a chair. "george--george stole from me--stole money from me!" he whispered. his face was white. his pride and vainglory were broken. he was a haggard, shaken figure. his self-righteousness was levelled in the dust. with sudden impulse cassy stole over to him and took his hand and held it tight. "don't! don't feel so bad!" she said. "he was weak and wild then. but he was all right afterward. he was happy with me." "i've owed cassy this for a good many years, dad," said black andy, "and it had to be paid. she's got better stuff in her than any baragar." * * * * * an hour later the old man said to cassy at the door of her room: "you got to stay here and git well. it's yours, the same as the rest of us--what's here." then he went down-stairs and sat with aunt kate by the fire. "i guess she's a good woman," he said, at last. "i didn't use her right." "you've been lucky with your women-folk," aunt kate answered, quietly. "yes, i've been lucky," he answered. "i dunno if i deserve it. mebbe not. do you think she'll git well?" "it's a healing air out here," aunt kate answered, and listened to the wood of the house snapping in the sharp frost. marcile that the day was beautiful, that the harvest of the west had been a great one, that the salmon-fishing had been larger than ever before, that gold had been found in the yukon, made no difference to jacques grassette, for he was in the condemned cell of bindon jail, living out those days which pass so swiftly between the verdict of the jury and the last slow walk with the sheriff. he sat with his back to the stone wall, his hands on his knees, looking straight before him. all that met his physical gaze was another stone wall, but with his mind's eye he was looking beyond it into spaces far away. his mind was seeing a little house with dormer-windows, and a steep roof on which the snow could not lodge in winter-time; with a narrow stoop in front where one could rest of an evening, the day's work done; the stone-and-earth oven near by in the open, where the bread for a family of twenty was baked; the wooden plough tipped against the fence, to wait the "fall" cultivation; the big iron cooler in which the sap from the maple-trees was boiled, in the days when the snow thawed and spring opened the heart of the wood; the flash of the sickle and the scythe hard by; the fields of the little, narrow farm running back from the st. lawrence like a riband; and, out on the wide stream, the great rafts with their riverine population floating down to michelin's mill-yards. for hours he had sat like this, unmoving, his gnarled red hands clamping each leg as though to hold him steady while he gazed; and he saw himself as a little lad, barefooted, doing chores, running after the shaggy, troublesome pony which would let him catch it when no one else could, and, with only a halter on, galloping wildly back to the farm-yard, to be hitched up in the cariole which had once belonged to the old seigneur. he saw himself as a young man back from "the states," where he had been working in the mills, regarded austerely by little father roche, who had given him his first communion--for, down in massachusetts he had learned to wear his curly hair plastered down on his forehead, smoke bad cigars, and drink "old bourbon," to bet and to gamble, and be a figure at horse-races. then he saw himself, his money all gone, but the luck still with him, at mass on the sunday before going to the backwoods lumber-camp for the winter, as boss of a hundred men. he had a way with him, and he had brains, had jacques grassette, and he could manage men, as michelin the lumber-king himself had found in a great river-row and strike, when bloodshed seemed certain. even now the ghost of a smile played at his lips as he recalled the surprise of the old _habitants_ and of father roche when he was chosen for this responsible post; for to run a great lumber-camp well, hundreds of miles from civilisation, where there is no visible law, no restraints of ordinary organized life, and where men, for seven months together, never saw a woman or a child, and ate pork and beans, and drank white whiskey, was a task of administration as difficult as managing a small republic new-created out of violent elements of society. but michelin was right, and the old seigneur, sir henri robitaille, who was a judge of men, knew he was right, as did also hennepin the school-master, whose despair jacques had been, for he never worked at his lessons as a boy, and yet he absorbed latin and mathematics by some sure but unexplainable process. "ah, if you would but work, jacques, you _vaurien_, i would make a great man of you," hennepin had said to him more than once; but this had made no impression on jacques. it was more to the point that the ground-hogs and black squirrels and pigeons were plentiful in casanac woods. and so he thought as he stood at the door of the church of st. francis on that day before going "out back" to the lumber-camp. he had reached the summit of greatness--to command men. that was more than wealth or learning, and as he spoke to the old seigneur going in to mass, he still thought so, for the seigneur's big house and the servants and the great gardens had no charm for him. the horses--that was another thing; but there would be plenty of horses in the lumber-camp; and, on the whole, he felt himself rather superior to the old seigneur, who now was lieutenant-governor of the province in which lay bindon jail. at the door of the church of st. francis he had stretched himself up with good-natured pride, for he was by nature gregarious and friendly, but with a temper quick and strong, and even savage when roused; though michelin the lumber-king did not know that when he engaged him as boss, having seen him only at the one critical time when his superior brain and will saw its chance to command and had no personal interest in the strife. he had been a miracle of coolness then, and his six-foot-two of pride and muscle was taking natural tribute at the door of the church of st. francis, where he waited till nearly every one had entered, and father roche's voice could be heard in the mass. [illustration: then had happened the real event of his life] then had happened the real event of his life: a black-eyed, rose-cheeked girl went by with her mother, hurrying in to mass. as she passed him their eyes met, and his blood leaped in his veins. he had never seen her before, and, in a sense, he had never seen any woman before. he had danced with many a one, and kissed a few in the old days among the flax-beaters, at the harvesting, in the gayeties of a wedding, and also down in massachusetts. that, however, was a different thing, which he forgot an hour after; but this was the beginning of the world for him; for he knew now, of a sudden, what life was, what home meant, why "old folks" slaved for their children, and mothers wept when girls married or sons went away from home to bigger things; why in there, in at mass, so many were praying for all the people and thinking only of one. all in a moment it came--and stayed; and he spoke to her, to marcile, that very night, and he spoke also to her father, valloir the farrier, the next morning by lamplight, before he started for the woods. he would not be gainsaid, nor take no for an answer, nor accept, as a reason for refusal, that she was only sixteen, and that he did not know her, for she had been away with a childless aunt since she was three. that she had fourteen brothers and sisters who had to be fed and cared for did not seem to weigh with the farrier. that was an affair of _le bon dieu_, and enough would be provided for them all as heretofore--one could make little difference; and though jacques was a very good match, considering his prospects and his favor with the lumber-king, valloir had a kind of fear of him, and could not easily promise his beloved marcile, the flower of his flock, to a man of whom the priest so strongly disapproved. but it was a new sort of jacques grassette who, that morning, spoke to him with the simplicity and eagerness of a child; and the suddenly conceived gift of a pony stallion, which every man in the parish envied jacques, won valloir over; and jacques went "away back" with the first timid kiss of marcile valloir burning on his cheek. "well, bagosh, you are a wonder!" said jacques' father, when he told him the news, and saw jacques jump into the cariole and drive away. here in prison, this, too, jacques saw--this scene; and then the wedding in the spring, and the tour through the parishes for days together, lads and lasses journeying with them; and afterward the new home with a bigger stoop than any other in the village, with some old, gnarled crab-apple-trees and lilac bushes, and four years of happiness, and a little child that died; and all the time jacques rising in the esteem of michelin the lumber-king, and sent on inspections, and to organize camps; for weeks, sometimes for months, away from the house behind the lilac bushes--and then the end of it all, sudden and crushing and unredeemable. jacques came back one night and found the house empty. marcile had gone to try her luck with another man. that was the end of the upward career of jacques grassette. he went out upon a savage hunt which brought him no quarry, for the man and the woman had disappeared as completely as though they had been swallowed by the sea. and here, at last, he was waiting for the day when he must settle a bill for a human life taken in passion and rage. his big frame seemed out of place in the small cell, and the watcher sitting near him, to whom he had not addressed a word nor replied to a question since the watching began, seemed an insignificant factor in the scene. never had a prisoner been more self-contained, or rejected more completely all those ministrations of humanity which relieve the horrible isolation of the condemned cell. grassette's isolation was complete. he lived in a dream, did what little there was to do in a dark abstraction, and sat hour after hour, as he was sitting now, piercing, with a brain at once benumbed to all outer things and afire with inward things, those realms of memory which are infinite in a life of forty years. "_sacrã©!_" he muttered at last, and a shiver seemed to pass through him from head to foot; then an ugly and evil oath fell from his lips, which made his watcher shrink back appalled, for he also was a catholic, and had been chosen of purpose, in the hope that he might have an influence on this revolted soul. it had, however, been of no use, and grassette had refused the advances and ministrations of the little good priest, father laflamme, who had come from the coast of purpose to give him the offices of the church. silent, obdurate, sullen, he had looked the priest straight in the face, and had said, in broken english, "_non_, i pay my bill. _nom de diable!_ i will say my own mass, light my own candle, go my own way. i have too much." now, as he sat glooming, after his outbreak of oaths, there came a rattling noise at the door, the grinding of a key in the lock, the shooting of bolts, and a face appeared at the little wicket in the door. then the door opened, and the sheriff stepped inside, accompanied by a white-haired, stately old man. at sight of this second figure--the sheriff had come often before, and would come for one more doleful walk with him--grassette started. his face, which had never whitened in all the dismal and terrorizing doings of the capture and the trial and sentence, though it had flushed with rage more than once, now turned a little pale, for it seemed as if this old man had stepped out of the visions which had just passed before his eyes. "his honor, the lieutenant-governor, sir henri robitaille, has come to speak with you.... stand up!" the sheriff added, sharply, as grassette kept his seat. grassette's face flushed with anger, for the prison had not broken his spirit; then he got up slowly. "i not stand up for you," he growled at the sheriff; "i stand up for him." he jerked his head toward sir henri robitaille. this grand seigneur, with michelin had believed in him in those far-off days which he had just been seeing over again, and all his boyhood and young manhood was rushing back on him. but now it was the governor who turned pale, seeing who the criminal was. "jacques grassette!" he cried, in consternation and emotion, for under another name the murderer had been tried and sentenced, nor had his identity been established--the case was so clear, the defence had been perfunctory, and quebec was very far away! "m'sieu'!" was the respectful response, and grassette's fingers twitched. "it was my sister's son you killed, grassette," said the governor, in a low, strained voice. "_nom de dieu_!" said grassette, hoarsely. "i did not know, grassette," the governor went on--"i did not know it was you." "why did you come, m'sieu'?" "call him 'your honor,'" said the sheriff, sharply. grassette's face hardened, and his look, turned upon the sheriff, was savage and forbidding. "i will speak as it please me. who are you? what do i care? to hang me--that is your business; but, for the rest, you spik to me differen'! who are you? your father kep' a tavern for thieves, _vous savez bien_!" it was true that the sheriff's father had had no savory reputation in the west. the governor turned his head away in pain and trouble, for the man's rage was not a thing to see--and they both came from the little parish of st. francis, and had passed many an hour together. "never mind, grassette," he said, gently. "call me what you will. you've got no feeling against me; and i can say with truth that i don't want your life for the life you took." grassette's breast heaved. "he put me out of my work, the man i kill. he pass the word against me, he hunt me out of the mountains, he call--_tãªte de diable_! he call me a name so bad. everything swim in my head, and i kill him." the governor made a protesting gesture. "i understand. i am glad his mother was dead. but do you not think how sudden it was? now here, in the thick of life, then, out there, beyond this world in the dark--in purgatory." the brave old man had accomplished what every one else, priest, lawyer, sheriff, and watcher, had failed to do: he had shaken grassette out of his blank isolation and obdurate unrepentance, had touched some chord of recognizable humanity. "it is done--_bien_, i pay for it," responded grassette, setting his jaw. "it is two deaths for me. waiting and remembering, and then with the sheriff there the other--so quick, and all." the governor looked at him for some moments without speaking. the sheriff intervened again officiously. "his honor has come to say something important to you," he remarked, oracularly. "hold you--does he need a sheriff to tell him when to spik?" was grassette's surly comment. then he turned to the governor. "let us speak in french," he said, in _patois_. "this rope-twister will not understan'. he is no good--i spit at him!" the governor nodded, and, despite the sheriff's protest, they spoke in french, grassette with his eyes intently fixed on the other, eagerly listening. "i have come," said the governor, "to say to you, grassette, that you still have a chance of life." he paused, and grassette's face took on a look of bewilderment and vague anxiety. a chance of life--what did it mean? "reprieve?" he asked, in a hoarse voice. the governor shook his head. "not yet; but there is a chance. something has happened. a man's life is in danger, or it may be he is dead; but more likely he is alive. you took a life; perhaps you can save one now. keeley's gulch, the mine there!" "they have found it--gold?" asked grassette, his eyes staring. he was forgetting for a moment where and what he was. "he went to find it, the man whose life is in danger. he had heard from a trapper who had been a miner once. while he was there a landslip came, and the opening to the mine was closed up." "there were two ways in. which one did he take?" cried grassette. "the only one he could take, the only one he or any one else knew. you know the other way in--you only, they say." "i found it--the easier, quick way in; a year ago i found it." "was it near the other entrance?" grassette shook his head. "a mile away." "if the man is alive--and we think he is--you are the only person that can save him. i have telegraphed the government. they do not promise, but they will reprieve, and save your life if you find the man." "alive or dead?" "alive or dead, for the act would be the same. i have an order to take you to the gulch, if you will go; and i am sure that you will have your life if you do it. i will promise--ah, yes, grassette, but it shall be so! public opinion will demand it. you will do it?" "to go free--_altogether_?" "well, but if your life is saved, grassette?" the dark face flushed, then grew almost repulsive again in its sullenness. "life--and this, in prison, shut in year after year! to do always what some one else wills, to be a slave to a warder! to have men like that over me that have been a boss of men--wasn't it that drove me to kill?--to be treated like dirt! and to go on with this, while outside there is free life, and to go where you will at your own price--no! what do i care for life? what is it to me! to live like this--ah, i would break my head against these stone walls, i would choke myself with my own hands! if i stayed here, i would kill again--i would kill--kill!" "then to go free altogether--that would be the wish of all the world, if you save this man's life, if it can be saved. will you not take the chance? we all have to die some time or other, grassette, some sooner, some later; and when you go, will you not want to take to god in your hands a life saved for a life taken? have you forgotten god, grassette? we used to remember him in the church of st. francis down there at home." there was a moment's silence, in which grassette's head was thrust forward, his eyes staring into space. the old seigneur had touched a vulnerable corner in his nature. presently he said in a low voice: "to be free altogether!... what is his name? who is he?" "his name is bignold," the governor answered. he turned to the sheriff inquiringly. "that is it, is it not?" he asked, in english, again. "james tarran bignold," answered the sheriff. the effect of these words upon grassette was remarkable. his body appeared to stiffen, his face became rigid, he stared at the governor blankly, appalled; the color left his face, and his mouth opened with a curious and revolting grimace. the others drew back, startled, and watched him. "_sang de dieu_!" he murmured at last, with a sudden gesture of misery and rage. then the governor understood: he remembered that the name just given by the sheriff and himself was the name of the englishman who had carried off grassette's wife years ago. he stepped forward and was about to speak, but changed his mind. he would leave it all to grassette; he would not let the sheriff know the truth, unless grassette himself disclosed the situation. he looked at grassette with a look of poignant pity and interest combined. in his own placid life he had never had any tragic happening, his blood had run coolly, his days had been blessed by an urbane fate; such scenes as this were but a spectacle to him; there was no answering chord of human suffering in his own breast to make him realize what grassette was undergoing now; but he had read widely, he had been an acute observer of the world and its happenings, and he had a natural human sympathy which had made many a man and woman eternally grateful to him. what would grassette do? it was a problem which had no precedent, and the solution would be a revelation of the human mind and heart. what would the man do? "well, what is all this, grassette?" asked the sheriff, brusquely. his official and officious intervention, behind which was the tyranny of the little man, given a power which he was incapable of wielding wisely, would have roused grassette to a savage reply a half-hour before, but now it was met by a contemptuous wave of the hand, and grassette kept his eyes fixed on the governor. "james tarran bignold!" grassette said, harshly, with eyes that searched the governor's face; but they found no answering look there. the governor, then, did not remember that tragedy of his home and hearth, and the man who had made of him an ishmael. still, bignold had been almost a stranger in the parish, and it was not curious if the governor had forgotten. "bignold!" he repeated, but the governor gave no response. "yes, bignold is his name, grassette," said the sheriff. "you took a life, and now, if you save one, that'll balance things. as the governor says, there'll be a reprieve anyhow. it's pretty near _the day_, and this isn't a bad world to kick in, so long as you kick with one leg on the ground, and--" the governor hastily intervened upon the sheriff's brutal remarks. "there is no time to be lost, grassette. he has been ten days in the mine." grassette's was not a slow brain. for a man of such physical and bodily bulk, he had more talents than are generally given. if his brain had been slower, his hand also would have been slower to strike. but his intelligence had been surcharged with hate these many years, and since the day he had been deserted it had ceased to control his actions--a passionate and reckless wilfulness had governed it. but now, after the first shock and stupefaction, it seemed to go back to where it was before marcile went from him, gather up the force and intelligence it had then, and come forward again to this supreme moment, with all that life's harsh experiences had done for it, with the education that misery and misdoing give. revolutions are often the work of instants, not years, and the crucial test and problem by which grassette was now faced had lifted him into a new atmosphere, with a new capacity alive in him. a moment ago his eyes had been bloodshot and swimming with hatred and passion; now they grew, almost suddenly, hard and lurking and quiet, with a strange, penetrating force and inquiry in them. "bignold--where does he come from?--what is he?" he asked the sheriff. "he is an englishman; he's only been out here a few months. he's been shooting and prospecting; but he's a better shooter than a prospector. he's a stranger; that's why all the folks out here want to save him if it's possible. it's pretty hard dying in a strange land far away from all that's yours. maybe he's got a wife waiting for him over there." "_nom de dieu_!" said grassette, with suppressed malice, under his breath. "maybe there's a wife waiting for him, and there's her to think of. the west's hospitable, and this thing has taken hold of it; the west wants to save this stranger, and it's waiting for you, grassette, to do its work for it, you being the only man that can do it, the only one that knows the other secret way into keeley's gulch. speak right out, grassette. it's your chance for life. speak out quick." the last three words were uttered in the old slave-driving tone, though the earlier part of the speech had been delivered oracularly, and had brought again to grassette's eyes the reddish, sullen look which had made them, a little while before, like those of some wounded, angered animal at bay; but it vanished slowly, and there was silence for a moment. the sheriff's words had left no vestige of doubt in grassette's mind. this bignold was the man who had taken marcile away, first to the english province, then into the states, where he had lost track of them, then over to england. marcile--where was marcile now? in keeley's gulch was the man who could tell him, the man who had ruined his home and his life. dead or alive, he was in keeley's gulch, the man who knew where marcile was; and if he knew where marcile was, and if she was alive, and he was outside these prison walls, what would he do to her? and if he was outside these prison walls, and in the gulch, and the man was there alive before him, what would he do? outside these prison walls--to be out there in the sun, where life would be easier to give up, if it had to be given up! an hour ago he had been drifting on a sea of apathy, and had had his fill of life. an hour ago he had had but one desire, and that was to die fighting, and he had even pictured to himself a struggle in this narrow cell where he would compel them to kill him, and so in any case let him escape the rope. now he was suddenly brought face to face with the great central issue of his life, and the end, whatever that end might be, could not be the same in meaning, though it might be the same concretely. if he elected to let things be, then bignold would die out there in the gulch, starved, anguished, and alone. if he went, he could save his own life by saving bignold, if bignold was alive; or he could go--and not save bignold's life or his own! what would he do? the governor watched him with a face controlled to quietness, but with an anxiety which made him pale in spite of himself. "what will you do, grassette?" he said, at last, in a low voice and with a step forward to him. "will you not help to clear your conscience by doing this thing? you don't want to try and spite the world by not doing it. you can make a lot of your life yet, if you are set free. give yourself and give the world a chance. you haven't used it right. try again." grassette imagined that the governor did not remember who bignold was, and that this was an appeal against his despair, and against revenging himself on the community which had applauded his sentence. if he went to the gulch, no one would know or could suspect the true situation, every one would be unprepared for that moment when bignold and he would face each other--and all that would happen then. where was marcile? only bignold knew. alive or dead? only bignold knew. "_bien_, i will do it, m'sieu'," he said to the governor. "i am to go alone--eh?" the sheriff shook his head. "no; two warders will go with you--and myself." a strange look passed over grassette's face. he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he said again: "_bon_, i will go." "then there is, of course, the doctor," said the sheriff. "_bon_!" said grassette. "what time is it?" "twelve o'clock," answered the sheriff, and made a motion to the warder to open the door of the cell. "by sundown!" grassette said, and he turned with a determined gesture to leave the cell. at the gate of the prison a fresh, sweet air caught his face. involuntarily he drew in a great draught of it, and his eyes seemed to gaze out, almost wonderingly, over the grass and the trees to the boundless horizon. then he became aware of the shouts of the crowd--shouts of welcome. this same crowd had greeted him with shouts of execration when he had left the court-house after his sentence. he stood still for a moment and looked at them, as it were only half comprehending that they were cheering him now, and that voices were saying, "bravo, grassette! save him, and we'll save you." cheer upon cheer, but he took no notice. he walked like one in a dream--a long, strong step. he turned neither to left nor right, not even when the friendly voice of one who had worked with him bade him "cheer up and do the trick." he was busy working out a problem which no one but himself could solve. he was only half conscious of his surroundings; he was moving in a kind of detached world of his own, where the warders and the sheriff and those who followed were almost abstract and unreal figures. he was living with a past which had been everlastingly distant, and had now become a vivid and buffeting present. he returned no answers to the questions addressed to him, and would not talk, save when for a little while they dismounted from their horses and sat under the shade of a great ash-tree for a few moments and snatched a mouthful of luncheon. then he spoke a little and asked some questions, but lapsed into a moody silence afterward. his life and nature were being passed through a fiery crucible. in all the years that had gone he had had an ungovernable desire to kill both bignold and marcile if he ever met them--a primitive, savage desire to blot them out of life and being. his fingers had ached for marcile's neck, that neck in which he had lain his face so often in the transient, unforgettable days of their happiness. if she was alive now!--if she was still alive! her story was hidden there in keeley's gulch with bignold, and he was galloping hard to reach his foe. as he went, by some strange alchemy of human experience, by that new birth of his brain, the world seemed different from what it had ever been before, at least since the day when he had found an empty home and a shamed hearthstone. he got a new feeling toward it, and life appealed to him as a thing that might have been so well worth living! but since that was not to be, then he would see what he could do to get compensation for all that he had lost, to take toll for the thing that had spoiled him, and given him a savage nature and a raging temper, which had driven him at last to kill a man who, in no real sense, had injured him. mile after mile they journeyed, a troop of interested people coming after; the sun and the clear, sweet air, the waving grass, the occasional clearings where settlers had driven in the tent-pegs of home; the forest now and then swallowing them, the mountains rising above them like a blank wall, and then suddenly opening out before them; and the rustle and scamper of squirrels and coyotes; and over their heads the whistle of birds, the slow beat of wings of great wild-fowl. the tender sap of youth was in this glowing and alert new world, and, by sudden contrast with the prison walls which he had just left behind, the earth seemed recreated, unfamiliar, compelling, and companionable. strange that in all the years that had been since he had gone back to his abandoned home to find marcile gone, the world had had no beauty, no lure for him. in the splendor of it all he had only raged and stormed, hating his fellow-man, waiting, however hopelessly, for the day when he should see marcile and the man who had taken her from him. and yet now, under the degradation of his crime and its penalty, and the unmanning influence of being the helpless victim of the iron power of the law, rigid, ugly, and demoralizing--now with the solution of his life's great problem here before him in the hills, with the man for whom he had waited so long caverned in the earth but a hand-reach away, as it were, his wrongs had taken a new manifestation in him, and the thing that kept crying out in him every moment was, where is marcile? it was four o'clock when they reached the pass which only grassette knew, the secret way into the gulch. there was two hours' walking through the thick, primeval woods, where few had ever been, except the ancient tribes which had once lorded it here; then came a sudden drop into the earth, a short travel through a dim cave, and afterward a sheer wall of stone enclosing a ravine where the rocks on either side nearly met overhead. here grassette gave the signal to shout aloud, and the voice of the sheriff called out: "hello, bignold! hello! hello, bignold! are you there?--hello!" his voice rang out clear and piercing, and then came a silence--a long, anxious silence. again the voice rang out: "hello! hello-o-o! bignold! bigno-o-ld!" they strained their ears. grassette was flat on the ground, his ear to the earth. suddenly he got to his feet, his face set, his eyes glittering. "he is there beyon'--i hear him," he said, pointing farther down the gulch. "water--he is near it." "we heard nothing," said the sheriff--"not a sound." "i hear ver' good. he is alive. i hear him--so," responded grassette; and his face had a strange, fixed look which the others interpreted to be agitation at the thought that he had saved his own life by finding bignold--and alive; which would put his own salvation beyond doubt. he broke away from them and hurried down the gulch. the others followed hard after, the sheriff and the warders close behind; but he outstripped them. suddenly he stopped and stood still, looking at something on the ground. they saw him lean forward and his hands stretched out with a fierce gesture. it was the attitude of a wild animal ready to spring. they were beside him in an instant, and saw at his feet bignold worn to a skeleton, with eyes starting from his head and fixed on grassette in agony and stark fear. the sheriff stooped to lift bignold up, but grassette waved them back with a fierce gesture, standing over the dying man. "he spoil my home. he break me--i have my bill to settle here," he said, in a voice hoarse and harsh. "it is so? it is so--eh? spik!" he said to bignold. "yes," came feebly from the shrivelled lips. "water! water!" the wretched man gasped. "i'm dying!" a sudden change came over grassette. "water--queeck!" he said. the sheriff stooped and held a hatful of water to bignold's lips, while another poured brandy from a flask into the water. grassette watched them eagerly. when the dying man had swallowed a little of the spirit and water, grassette leaned over him again, and the others drew away. they realized that these two men had an account to settle, and there was no need for grassette to take revenge, for bignold was going fast. "you stan' far back," said grassette, and they fell away. then he stooped down to the sunken, ashen face, over which death was fast drawing its veil. "marcile--where is marcile?" he asked. the dying man's lips opened. "god forgive me--god save my soul!" he whispered. he was not concerned for grassette now. "queeck--queeck, where is marcile?" grassette said, sharply. "come back, bignold. listen--where is marcile?" he strained to hear the answer. bignold was going, but his eyes opened again, however, for this call seemed to pierce to his soul as it struggled to be free. "ten years--since--i saw her," he whispered. "good girl--marcile. she loves you, but she--is afraid." he tried to say something more, but his tongue refused its office. "where is she?--spik!" commanded grassette, in a tone of pleading and agony now. once more the flying spirit came back. a hand made a motion toward his pocket, then lay still. grassette felt hastily in the dead man's pocket, drew forth a letter, and with half-blinded eyes read the few lines it contained. it was dated from a hospital in new york, and was signed, "nurse marcile." with a groan of relief grassette stood staring at the dead man. when the others came to him again, his lips were moving, but they did not hear what he was saying. they took up the body and moved away with it up the ravine. "it's all right, grassette. you'll be a free man," said the sheriff. grassette did not answer. he was thinking how long it would take him to get to marcile, when he was free. he had a true vision of beginning life again with marcile. a man, a famine, and a heathen boy i athabasca in the far north is the scene of this story--athabasca, one of the most beautiful countries in the world in summer, but a cold, bare land in winter. yet even in winter it is not so bleak and bitter as the districts southwest of it, for the chinook winds steal through from the pacific and temper the fierceness of the frozen rockies. yet forty and fifty degrees below zero is cold, after all, and july strawberries in this wild northland are hardly compensation for seven months of ice and snow, no matter how clear and blue the sky, how sweet the sun during its short journey in the day. some days, too, the sun may not be seen even when there is no storm, because of the fine, white, powdered frost in the air. a day like this is called a _poudre_ day; and woe to the man who tempts it unthinkingly, because the light makes the delicate mist of frost shine like silver. for that powder bites the skin white in short order, and sometimes reckless men lose ears or noses or hands under its sharp caress. but when it really storms in that far north, then neither man nor beast should be abroad--not even the eskimo dogs; though times and seasons can scarcely be chosen when travelling in athabasca, for a storm comes unawares. upon the plains you will see a cloud arising, not in the sky, but from the ground--a billowy surf of drifting snow; then another white billow from the sky will sweep down and meet it, and you are caught between. he who went to athabasca to live a generation ago had to ask himself if the long winter, spent chiefly indoors, with, maybe, a little trading with the indians, meagre sport, and scant sun, savages and half-breeds the only companions, and out of all touch with the outside world, letters coming but once a year; with frozen fish and meat, always the same, as the staple items in a primitive fare; with danger from starvation and marauding tribes; with endless monotony, in which men sometimes go mad--he had to ask himself if these were to be cheerfully endured because, in the short summer, the air is heavenly, the rivers and lakes are full of fish, the flotilla of canoes of the fur-hunters is pouring down, and all is gayety and pleasant turmoil; because there is good shooting in the autumn, and the smell of the land is like a garden, and hardy fruits and flowers are at hand. that is a question which was asked william rufus holly once upon a time. william rufus holly, often called "averdoopoy," sometimes "sleeping beauty," always billy rufus, had had a good education. he had been to high-school and to college, and he had taken one or two prizes _en route_ to graduation; but no fame travelled with him, save that he was the laziest man of any college year for a decade. he loved his little porringer, which is to say that he ate a good deal; and he loved to read books, which is not to say that he loved study; he hated getting out of bed, and he was constantly gated for morning chapel. more than once he had sweetly gone to sleep over his examination papers. this is not to say that he failed at his examinations--on the contrary, he always succeeded; but he only did enough to pass and no more; and he did not wish to do more than pass. his going to sleep at examinations was evidence that he was either indifferent or self-indulgent, and it certainly showed that he was without nervousness. he invariably roused himself, or his professor roused him, a half-hour before the papers should be handed in, and, as it were, by a mathematical calculation he had always done just enough to prevent him being plucked. he slept at lectures, he slept in hall, he slept as he waited his turn to go to the wicket in a cricket match, and he invariably went to sleep afterward. he even did so on the day he had made the biggest score in the biggest game ever played between his college and the pick of the country; but he first gorged himself with cake and tea. the day he took his degree he had to be dragged from a huge grandfather's chair and forced along in his ragged gown--"ten holes and twelve tatters"--to the function in the convocation-hall. he looked so fat and shiny, so balmy and sleepy, when he took his degree and was handed his prize for a poem on sir john franklin, that the public laughed, and the college men in the gallery began singing- "bye o, my baby, father will come to you soo-oon!" he seemed not to care, but yawned in his hand as he put his prize book under his arm through one of the holes in his gown, and in two minutes was back in his room, and in another five was fast asleep. it was the general opinion that william rufus holly, fat, yellow-haired, and twenty-four years old, was doomed to failure in life, in spite of the fact that he had a little income of a thousand dollars a year and had made a century in an important game of cricket. great, therefore, was the surprise of the college, and afterward of the province, when, at the farewell dinner of the graduates, sleeping beauty announced, between his little open-eyed naps, that he was going far north as a missionary. at first it was thought he was joking, but when at last, in his calm and dreamy look, they saw he meant what he said, they arose and carried him round the room on a chair, making impromptu songs as they travelled. they toasted billy rufus again and again, some of them laughing till they cried at the thought of averdoopoy going to the arctic regions. but an uneasy seriousness fell upon these "beautiful, bountiful, brilliant boys," as holly called them later, when in a simple, honest, but indolent speech he said he had applied for ordination. six months later william rufus holly, a deacon in holy orders, journeyed to athabasca in the far north. on his long journey there was plenty of time to think. he was embarked on a career which must forever keep him in the wilds; for very seldom indeed does a missionary of the north ever return to the crowded cities or take a permanent part in civilized life. what the loneliness of it would be he began to feel, as for hours and hours he saw no human being on the plains; in the thrilling stillness of the night; in fierce storms in the woods, when his half-breed guides bent their heads to meet the wind and rain, and did not speak for hours; in the long, adventurous journey on the river by the day, in the cry of the plaintive loon at night; in the scant food for every meal. yet what the pleasure would be he felt in the joyous air, the exquisite sunshine, the flocks of wild-fowl flying north, _honking_ on their course; in the song of the half-breeds as they ran the rapids. of course, he did not think these things quite as they are written here--all at once and all together; but in little pieces from time to time, feeling them rather than saying them to himself. at least he did understand how serious a thing it was, his going as a missionary into the far north. why did he do it? was it a whim, or the excited imagination of youth, or that prompting which the young often have to make the world better? or was it a fine spirit of adventure with a good heart behind it? perhaps it was a little of all these; but there was also something more, and it was to his credit. lazy as william rufus holly had been at school and college, he had still thought a good deal, even when he seemed only sleeping; perhaps he thought more because he slept so much, because he studied little and read a great deal. he always knew what everybody thought--that he would never do anything but play cricket till he got too heavy to run, and then would sink into a slothful, fat, and useless middle and old age; that his life would be a failure. and he knew that they were right; that if he stayed where he could live an easy life, a fat and easy life he would lead; that in a few years he would be good for nothing except to eat and sleep--no more. one day, waking suddenly from a bad dream of himself so fat as to be drawn about on a dray by monstrous fat oxen with rings through their noses, led by monkeys, he began to wonder what he should do--the hardest thing to do; for only the hardest life could possibly save him from failure, and, in spite of all, he really did want to make something of his life. he had been reading the story of sir john franklin's arctic expedition, and all at once it came home to him that the only thing for him to do was to go to the far north and stay there, coming back about once every ten years to tell the people in the cities what was being done in the wilds. then there came the inspiration to write his poem on sir john franklin, and he had done so, winning the college prize for poetry. but no one had seen any change in him in those months; and, indeed, there had been little or no change, for he had an equable and practical, though imaginative, disposition, despite his avoirdupois, and his new purpose did not stir him yet from his comfortable sloth. and in all the journey west and north he had not been stirred greatly from his ease of body, for the journey was not much harder than playing cricket every day, and there were only the thrill of the beautiful air, the new people, and the new scenes to rouse him. as yet there was no great responsibility. he scarcely realized what his life must be until one particular day. then sleeping beauty waked wide up, and from that day lost the name. till then he had looked and borne himself like any other traveller, unrecognized as a parson or "mikonaree." he had not had prayers in camp _en route_, he had not preached, he had held no meetings. he was as yet william rufus holly, the cricketer, the laziest dreamer of a college decade. his religion was simple and practical; he had never had any morbid ideas; he had lived a healthy, natural, and honorable life, until he went for a mikonaree, and, if he had no cant, he had not a clear idea of how many-sided, how responsible, his life must be--until that one particular day. this is what happened then. from fort o'call, an abandoned post of the hudson's bay company on the peace river, nearly the whole tribe of the athabasca indians in possession of the post now had come up the river, with their chief, knife-in-the-wind, to meet the mikonaree. factors of the hudson's bay company, _coureurs de bois_, and _voyageurs_ had come among them at times, and once the renowned father lacombe, the jesuit priest, had stayed with them three months; but never to this day had they seen a protestant mikonaree, though once a factor, noted for his furious temper, his powers of running, and his generosity, had preached to them. these men, however, were both over fifty years old. the athabascas did not hunger for the christian religion, but a courier from edmonton had brought them word that a mikonaree was coming to their country to stay, and they put off their stoical manner and allowed themselves the luxury of curiosity. that was why even the squaws and papooses came up the river with the braves, all wondering if the stranger had brought gifts with him, all eager for their shares; for it had been said by the courier of the tribe that "oshondonto," their name for the newcomer, was bringing mysterious loads of well-wrapped bales and skins. upon a point below the first rapids of the little manitou they waited with their camp-fires burning and their pipe of peace. when the canoes bearing oshondonto and his _voyageurs_ shot the rapids to the song of the river, "en roulant, ma boule roulant,[[y:italic]] en roulant, ma boule!"[[y:italic]] with the shrill voices of the boatmen rising to meet the cry of the startled water-fowl, the athabascas crowded to the high banks. they grunted "how!" in greeting, as the foremost canoe made for the shore. but if surprise could have changed the countenances of indians, these athabascas would not have known one another when the missionary stepped out upon the shore. they had looked to see a gray-bearded man like the chief factor who quarrelled and prayed; but they found instead a round-faced, clean-shaven youth, with big, good-natured eyes, yellow hair, and a roundness of body like that of a month-old bear's cub. they expected to find a man who, like the factor, could speak their language, and they found a cherub sort of youth who talked only english, french, and chinook--that common language of the north--and a few words of their own language which he had learned on the way. besides, oshondonto was so absent-minded at the moment, so absorbed in admiration of the garish scene before him, that he addressed the chief in french, of which knife-in-the-wind knew but one word, _cã¢che_, which all the north knows. but presently william rufus holly recovered himself, and in stumbling chinook made himself understood. opening a bale, he brought out beads and tobacco and some bright red flannel, and two hundred indians sat round him and grunted "how!" and received his gifts with little comment. then the pipe of peace went round, and oshondonto smoked it becomingly. but he saw that the indians despised him for his youth, his fatness, his yellow hair as soft as a girl's, his cherub face, browned though it was by the sun and weather. as he handed the pipe to knife-in-the-wind, an indian called silver tassel, with a cruel face, said, grimly: "why does oshondonto travel to us?" william rufus holly's eyes steadied on those of the indian as he replied in chinook: "to teach the way to manitou the mighty, to tell the athabascas of the great chief who died to save the world." "the story is told in many ways; which is right? there was the factor, word of thunder. there is the song they sing at edmonton--i have heard." "the great chief is the same chief," answered the missionary. "if you tell of fort o'call, and knife-in-the-wind tells of fort o'call, he and you will speak different words, and one will put in one thing and one will leave out another; men's tongues are different. but fort o'call is the same, and the great chief is the same." "it was a long time ago," said knife-in-the-wind, sourly, "many thousand moon, as the pebbles in the river, the years." "it is the same world, and it is the same chief, and it was to save us," answered william rufus holly, smiling, yet with a fluttering heart, for the first test of his life had come. in anger knife-in-the-wind thrust an arrow into the ground and said: "how can the white man who died thousands of moons ago in a far country save the red man of to-day?" "a strong man should bear so weak a tale," broke in silver tassel, ruthlessly. "are we children, that the great chief sends a child as messenger?" for a moment billy rufus did not know how to reply, and in the pause knife-in-the-wind broke in two pieces the arrow he had thrust in the ground in token of displeasure. suddenly, as oshondonto was about to speak, silver tassel sprang to his feet, seized in his arms a lad of twelve who was standing near, and, running to the bank, dropped him into the swift current. "if oshondonto be not a child, let him save the lad," said silver tassel, standing on the brink. instantly william rufus holly was on his feet. his coat was off before silver tassel's words were out of his mouth, and, crying, "in the name of the great white chief!" he jumped into the rushing current. "in the name of your manitou, come on, silver tassel!" he called up from the water, and struck out for the lad. not pausing an instant, silver tassel sprang into the flood, into the whirling eddies and dangerous current below the first rapids and above the second. ii then came the struggle for wingo of the cree tribe, a waif among the athabascas, whose father had been slain as they travelled, by a wandering tribe of blackfeet. never was there a braver rivalry, although the odds were with the indian--in lightness, in brutal strength. with the mikonaree, however, were skill, and that sort of strength which the world calls "moral," the strength of a good and desperate purpose. oshondonto knew that on the issue of this shameless business--this cruel sport of silver tassel--would depend his future on the peace river. as he shot forward with strong strokes in the whirling torrent after the helpless lad, who, only able to keep himself afloat, was being swept down toward the rapids below, he glanced up to the bank along which the athabascas were running. he saw the garish colors of their dresses; he saw the ignorant medicine-man, with his mysterious bag, making incantations, he saw the _tepee_ of the chief, with its barbarous pennant above; he saw the idle, naked children tearing at the entrails of a calf; and he realized that this was a deadly tournament between civilization and barbarism. silver tassel was gaining on him; they were both overhauling the boy; it was now to see which should reach wingo first, which should take him to shore. that is, if both were not carried under before they reached him; that is, if, having reached him, they and he would ever get to shore; for, lower down, before it reached the rapids, the current ran horribly smooth and strong, and here and there were jagged rocks just beneath the surface. still silver tassel gained on him, as they both gained on the boy. oshondonto swam strong and hard, but he swam with his eyes on the struggle for the shore also; he was not putting forth his utmost strength, for he knew it would be bitterly needed, perhaps to save his own life by a last effort. silver tassel passed him when they were about fifty feet from the boy. shooting by on his side, with a long stroke and a plunge of his body like a projectile, the dark face with the long, black hair plastering it turned toward his own, in fierce triumph silver tassel cried "how!" in derision. billy rufus set his teeth and lay down to his work like a sportsman. his face had lost its roses, and it was set and determined, but there was no look of fear upon it, nor did his heart sink when a cry of triumph went up from the crowd on the banks. the white man knew by old experience in the cricket-field and in many a boat-race that it is well not to halloo till you are out of the woods. his mettle was up, he was not the reverend william rufus holly, missionary, but billy rufus, the champion cricketer, the sportsman playing a long game. silver tassel reached the boy, who was bruised and bleeding and at his last gasp, and, throwing an arm round him, struck out for the shore. the current was very strong, and he battled fiercely as billy rufus, not far above, moved down toward them at an angle. for a few yards silver tassel was going strong, then his pace slackened, he seemed to sink lower in the water, and his stroke became splashing and irregular. suddenly he struck a rock, which bruised him badly, and, swerving from his course, he lost his stroke and let go the boy. by this time the mikonaree had swept beyond them, and he caught the boy by his long hair as he was being swept below. striking out for the shore, he swam with bold, strong strokes, his judgment guiding him well past rocks beneath the surface. ten feet from shore he heard a cry of alarm from above. it concerned silver tassel, he knew, but he could not look round yet. in another moment the boy was dragged up the bank by strong hands, and billy rufus swung round in the water toward silver tassel, who, in his confused energy, had struck another rock, and, exhausted now, was being swept toward the rapids. silver tassel's shoulder scarcely showed--his strength was gone. in a flash billy rufus saw there was but one thing to do. he must run the rapids with silver tassel--there was no other way. it would be a fight through the jaws of death; but no indian's eyes had a better sense for river-life than william rufus holly's. how he reached silver tassel, and drew the indian's arm over his own shoulder; how they drove down into the boiling flood; how billy rufus' fat body was battered and torn and ran red with blood from twenty flesh wounds; but how by luck beyond the telling he brought silver tassel through safely into the quiet water a quarter of a mile below the rapids, and was hauled out, both more dead than alive, is a tale still told by the athabascas around their camp-fire. the rapids are known to-day as the mikonaree rapids. the end of this beginning of the young man's career was that silver tassel gave him the word of eternal friendship, knife-in-the-wind took him into the tribe, and the boy wingo became his very own, to share his home and his travels, no longer a waif among the athabascas. after three days' feasting, at the end of which the missionary held his first service and preached his first sermon, to the accompaniment of grunts of satisfaction from the whole tribe of athabascas, william rufus holly began his work in the far north. the journey to fort o'call was a procession of triumph, for, as it was summer, there was plenty of food, the missionary had been a success, and he had distributed many gifts of beads and flannel. all went well for many moons, although converts were uncertain and baptisms few, and the work was hard and the loneliness at times terrible. but at last came dark days. one summer and autumn there had been poor fishing and shooting, the _cã¢ches_ of meat were fewer on the plains, and almost nothing had come up to fort o'call from edmonton, far below. the yearly supplies for the missionary, paid for out of his private income--the bacon, beans, tea, coffee, and flour--had been raided by a band of hostile indians, and he viewed with deep concern the progress of the severe winter. although three years of hard, frugal life had made his muscles like iron, they had only mellowed his temper, increased his flesh, and rounded his face; nor did he look an hour older than on the day when he had won wingo for his willing slave and devoted friend. he never resented the frequent ingratitude of the indians; he said little when they quarrelled over the small comforts his little income brought them yearly from the south. he had been doctor, lawyer, judge among them, although he interfered little in the larger disputes, and was forced to shut his eyes to intertribal enmities. he had no deep faith that he could quite civilize them; he knew that their conversion was only on the surface, and he fell back on his personal influence with them. by this he could check even the excesses of the worst man in the tribe, his old enemy, silver tassel of the bad heart, who yet was ready always to give a tooth for a tooth, and accepted the fact that he owed oshondonto his life. when famine crawled across the plains to the doors of the settlement and housed itself at fort o'call, silver tassel acted badly, however, and sowed fault-finding among the thoughtless of the tribe. "what manner of great spirit is it who lets the food of his chief oshondonto fall into the hands of the blackfeet?" he said. "oshondonto says the great spirit hears. what has the great spirit to say? let oshondonto ask." again, when they were all hungrier, he went among them with complaining words. "if the white man's great spirit can do all things, let him give oshondonto and the athabascas food." the missionary did not know of silver tassel's foolish words, but he saw the downcast face of knife-in-the-wind, the sullen looks of the people; and he unpacked the box he had reserved jealously for the darkest days that might come. for meal after meal he divided these delicacies among them--morsels of biscuit, and tinned meats, and dried fruits. but his eyes meanwhile were turned again and again to the storm raging without, as it had raged for this the longest week he had ever spent. if it would but slacken, a boat could go out to the nets set in the lake near by some days before, when the sun of spring had melted the ice. from the hour the nets had been set the storm had raged. on the day when the last morsel of meat and biscuit had been given away the storm had not abated, and he saw with misgiving the gloomy, stolid faces of the indians round him. one man, two children, and three women had died in a fortnight. he dreaded to think what might happen, his heart ached at the looks of gaunt suffering in the faces of all; he saw, for the first time, how black and bitter knife-in-the-wind looked as silver tassel whispered to him. with the color all gone from his cheeks, he left the post and made his way to the edge of the lake where his canoe was kept. making it ready for the launch, he came back to the fort. assembling the indians, who had watched his movements closely, he told them that he was going through the storm to the nets on the lake, and asked for a volunteer to go with him. no one replied. he pleaded--for the sake of the women and children. then knife-in-the-wind spoke. "oshondonto will die if he goes. it is a fool's journey--does the wolverine walk into an empty trap?" billy rufus spoke passionately now. his genial spirit fled; he reproached them. silver tassel spoke up loudly: "let oshondonto's great spirit carry him to the nets alone, and back again with fish for the heathen the great chief died to save." "you have a wicked heart, silver tassel. you know well that one man can't handle the boat and the nets also. is there no one of you--?" a figure shot forward from a corner. "i will go with oshondonto," came the voice of wingo, the waif of the crees. the eye of the mikonaree flashed round in contempt on the tribe. then suddenly it softened, and he said to the lad, "we will go together, wingo." taking the boy by the hand, he ran with him through the rough wind to the shore, launched the canoe on the tossing lake, and paddled away through the tempest. * * * * * the bitter winds of an angry spring, the sleet and wet snow of a belated winter, the floating blocks of ice crushing against the side of the boat, the black water swishing over man and boy, the harsh, inclement world near and far.... the passage made at last to the nets; the brave wingo steadying the canoe--a skilful hand sufficing where the strength of a samson would not have availed; the nets half full, and the breaking cry of joy from the lips of the waif--a cry that pierced the storm and brought back an answering cry from the crowd of indians on the far shore.... the quarter-hour of danger in the tossing canoe; the nets too heavy to be dragged, and fastened to the thwarts instead; the canoe going shoreward jerkily, a cork on the waves with an anchor behind; heavier seas and winds roaring down on them as they slowly near the shore; and at last, in one awful moment, the canoe upset, and the man and the boy in the water.... then both clinging to the upturned canoe as it is driven near and nearer shore.... the boy washed off once, twice, and the man with his arm round clinging--clinging, as the shrieking storm answers to the calling of the athabascas on the shore, and drives craft and fish and man and boy down upon the banks; no savage bold enough to plunge in to their rescue.... at last a rope thrown, a drowning man's wrists wound round it, his teeth set in it--and now, at last, a man and a heathen boy, both insensible, being carried to the mikonaree's hut and laid upon two beds, one on either side of the small room, as the red sun goes slowly down.... the two still bodies on bearskins in the hut, and a hundred superstitious indians flying from the face of death.... the two alone in the light of the flickering fire; the many gone to feast on fish, the price of lives. but the price was not yet paid, for the man waked from insensibility--waked to see himself with the body of the boy beside him in the red light of the fires. for a moment his heart stopped beating, he turned sick and faint. deserted by those for whom he risked his life!... how long had he lain there? what time was it? when was it that he had fought his way to the nets and back again--hours, maybe? and the dead boy there, wingo, who had risked his life, also dead--how long? his heart leaped--ah, not hours, only minutes, maybe. it was sundown as unconsciousness came on him--indians would not stay with the dead after sundown. maybe it was only ten minutes--five minutes--one minute ago since they left him!... his watch! shaking fingers drew it out, wild eyes scanned it. it was not stopped. then it could have only been minutes ago. trembling to his feet, he staggered over to wingo, he felt the body, he held a mirror to the lips. yes, surely there was light moisture on the glass. then began another fight with death--william rufus holly struggling to bring to life again wingo, the waif of of the crees. the blood came back to his own heart with a rush as the mad desire to save this life came on him. he talked to the dumb face, he prayed in a kind of delirium, as he moved the arms up and down, as he tilted the body, as he rubbed, chafed, and strove. he forgot he was a missionary, he almost cursed himself. "for them--for cowards, i risked his life, the brave lad with no home! oh, god! give him back to me!" he sobbed. "what right had i to risk his life for theirs? i should have shot the first man that refused to go.... wingo, speak! wake up! come back!" the sweat poured from him in his desperation and weakness. he said to himself that he had put this young life into the hazard without cause. had he, then, saved the lad from the rapids and silver tassel's brutality only to have him drag fish out of the jaws of death for silver tassel's meal? it seemed to him that he had been working for hours, though it was in fact only a short time, when the eyes of the lad slowly opened and closed again, and he began to breathe spasmodically. a cry of joy came from the lips of the missionary, and he worked harder still. at last the eyes opened wide, stayed open, saw the figure bent over him, and the lips whispered, "oshondonto--my master!" as a cup of brandy was held to his lips. * * * * * billy rufus the cricketer had won the game, and somehow the reverend william rufus holly the missionary never repented the strong language he used against the athabascas as he was bringing wingo back to life, though it was not what is called "strictly canonical." he had conquered the athabascas forever. even silver tassel acknowledged his power, and he as industriously spread abroad the report that the mikonaree had raised wingo from the dead, as he had sown dissension during the famine. but the result was that the missionary had power in the land, and the belief in him was so great that, when knife-in-the-wind died, the tribe came to him to raise their chief from the dead. they never quite believed that he could not--not even silver tassel, who now rules the athabascas and is ruled in turn by william rufus holly: which is a very good thing for the athabascas. the healing springs and the pioneers he came out of the mysterious south one summer day, driving before him a few sheep, a cow, and a long-eared mule which carried his tent and other necessaries, and camped outside the town on a knoll, at the base of which was a thicket of close shrub. during the first day no one in jansen thought anything of it, for it was a land of pilgrimage, and hundreds came and went on their journeys in search of free homesteads and good water and pasturage. but when, after three days, he was still there, nicolle terasse, who had little to do and an insatiable curiosity, went out to see him. he found a new sensation for jansen. this is what he said when he came back: "you want know 'bout him, _bagosh_! dat is somet'ing to see, dat man--ingles is his name. sooch hair--mooch long an' brown, and a leetla beard not so brown, an' a leather sole onto his feet, and a gray coat to his ankles--_oui_, so like dat. an' his voice--_voilã _, it is like water in a cave. he is a great man--i dunno not; but he spik at me like dis, 'is dere sick, and cripple, and stay-in-bed people here dat can't get up?' he say. an' i say, 'not plenty, but some--_bagosh_! dere is dat miss greet, an' ole ma'am drouchy, an' dat young pete hayes--an' so on.' 'well, if they have faith i will heal them,' he spik at me. 'from de healing springs dey shall rise to walk,' he say. _bagosh_, you not t'ink dat true? den you go see." so jansen turned out to see, and besides the man they found a curious thing. at the foot of the knoll, in a space which he had cleared, was a hot spring that bubbled and rose and sank, and drained away into the thirsty ground. luck had been with ingles the faith healer. whether he knew of the existence of this spring, or whether he chanced upon it, he did not say; but while he held jansen in the palm of his hand, in the feverish days that followed, there were many who attached mysterious significance to it, who claimed for it supernatural origin. in any case, the one man who had known of the existence of this spring was far away from jansen, and he did not return till a day of reckoning came for the faith healer. meanwhile, jansen made pilgrimage to the springs of healing, and at unexpected times ingles suddenly appeared in the town, and stood at street corners; and in his "patmian voice," as flood rawley the lawyer called it, warned the people to flee their sins, and, purifying their hearts, learn to cure all ills of mind and body, the weaknesses of the sinful flesh and the "ancient evil" in their souls, by faith that saves. "'_is not the life more than meat?_'" he asked them. "and if, peradventure, there be those among you who have true belief in hearts all purged of evil, and yet are maimed, or sick of body, come to me, and i will lay my hands upon you, and i will heal you." thus he cried. there were those so wrought upon by his strange eloquence and spiritual passion, so hypnotized by his physical and mental exaltation, that they rose up from the hand-laying and the prayer eased of their ailments. others he called upon to lie in the hot spring at the foot of the hill for varying periods, before the laying-on of hands, and these also, crippled or rigid with troubles of the bone, announced that they were healed. people flocked from other towns, and though, to some who had been cured, their pains and sickness returned, there were a few who bore perfect evidence to his teaching and healing, and followed him, "converted and consecrated," as though he were a new messiah. in this corner of the west was such a revival as none could remember--not even those who had been to camp-meetings in the east in their youth, and had seen the spirit descend upon hundreds and draw them to the anxious seat. then came the great sensation--the faith healer converted laura sloly. upon which jansen drew its breath painfully; for, while it was willing to bend to the inspiration of the moment, and to be swept on a tide of excitement into that enchanted field called imagination, it wanted to preserve its institutions--and laura sloly had come to be an institution. jansen had always plumed itself, and smiled, when she passed; and even now the most sentimentally religious of them inwardly anticipated the time when the town would return to its normal condition; and that condition would not be normal if there were any change in laura sloly. it mattered little whether most people were changed or not, because one state of their minds could not be less or more interesting than another; but a change in laura sloly could not be for the better. her father had come to the west in the early days, and had prospered by degrees until a town grew up beside his ranch; and though he did not acquire as much permanent wealth from this golden chance as might have been expected, and lost much he did make by speculation, still he had his rich ranch left, and it and he and laura were part of the history of jansen. laura had been born at jansen before even it had a name. next to her father she was the oldest inhabitant, and she had a prestige which was given to no one else. [illustration: the faith healer] everything had conspired to make her a figure of moment and interest. she was handsome in almost a mannish sort of way, being of such height and straightness, and her brown eyes had a depth and fire in which more than a few men had drowned themselves. also, once she had saved a settlement by riding ahead of a marauding indian band to warn their intended victims, and had averted another tragedy of pioneer life. pioneers proudly told strangers to jansen of the girl of thirteen who rode a hundred and twenty miles without food, and sank inside the palisade of the hudson bay company's fort, as the gates closed upon the settlers taking refuge, the victim of brain fever at last. _cerebro-spinal meningitis_, the doctor from winnipeg called it, and the memory of that time when men and women would not sleep till her crisis was past was still fresh on the tongues of all. then she had married at seventeen, and, within a year, had lost both her husband and her baby, a child bereaved of her playmates--for her husband had been but twenty years old and was younger far than she in everything. and since then, twelve years before, she had seen generations of lovers pass into the land they thought delectable; and their children flocked to her, hung about her, were carried off by her to the ranch, and kept for days, against the laughing protests of their parents. flood rawley called her the pied piper of jansen, and, indeed, she had a voice that fluted and piped, and yet had so whimsical a note that the hardest faces softened at the sound of it; and she did not keep its best notes for the few. she was impartial, almost impersonal; no woman was her enemy, and every man was her friend--and nothing more. she had never had an accepted lover since the day her playmates left her. every man except one had given up hope that he might win her; and though he had been gone from jansen for two years, and had loved her since the days before the playmates came and went, he never gave up hope, and was now to return and say again what he had mutely said for years--what she understood, and he knew she understood. tim denton had been a wild sort in his brief day. he was a rough diamond, but he was a diamond, and was typical of the west--its heart, its courage, its freedom, and its force; capable of exquisite gentleness strenuous to exaggeration, with a very primitive religion, and the only religion tim knew was that of human nature. jansen did not think tim good enough--not within a comet shot--for laura sloly; but they thought him better than any one else. but now laura was a convert to the prophet of the healing springs, and those people who still retained their heads in the eddy of religious emotion were in despair. they dreaded to meet laura; they kept away from the "protracted meetings," but were eager to hear about her and what she said and did. what they heard allayed their worst fears. she still smiled, and seemed as cheerful as before, they heard, and she neither spoke nor prayed in public, but she led the singing always. now the anxious and the sceptical and the reactionary ventured out to see and hear; and seeing and hearing gave them a satisfaction they hardly dared express. she was more handsome than ever, and if her eyes glistened with a light they had never seen before, and awed them, her lips still smiled, and the old laugh came when she spoke to them. their awe increased. this was "getting religion" with a difference. but presently they received a shock. a whisper grew that laura was in love with the faith healer. some woman's instinct drove straight to the centre of a disconcerting possibility, and in consternation she told her husband; and jansen husbands had a freemasonry of gossip. an hour, and all jansen knew, or thought they knew; and the "saved" rejoiced; and the rest of the population, represented by nicolle terasse at one end and flood rawley at the other, flew to arms. no vigilance committee was ever more determined and secret and organized than the unconverted civic patriots who were determined to restore jansen to its old-time condition. they pointed out cold-bloodedly that the faith healer had failed three times where he had succeeded once; and that, admitting the successes, there was no proof that his religion was their cause. there were such things as hypnotism and magnetism and will-power, and abnormal mental stimulus on the part of the healed--to say nothing of the healing springs. carefully laying their plans, they quietly spread the rumor that ingles had promised to restore to health old mary jewell, who had been bedridden ten years, and had sent word and prayed to have him lay his hands upon her--catholic though she was. the faith healer, face to face with this supreme and definite test, would have retreated from it but for laura sloly. she expected him to do it, believed that he could, said that he would, herself arranged the day and the hour, and sang so much exaltation into him that at last a spurious power seemed to possess him. he felt that there had entered into him something that could be depended on, not the mere flow of natural magnetism fed by an out-door life and a temperament of great emotional force and chance and suggestion--and other things. if, at first, he had influenced laura, some ill-controlled, latent idealism in him, working on a latent poetry and spirituality in her, somehow bringing her into nearer touch with her lost playmates than she had been in the long years that had passed; she, in turn, had made his unrationalized brain reel; had caught him up into a higher air, on no wings of his own; had added another lover to her company of lovers--and the first impostor she had ever had. she who had known only honest men as friends, in one blind moment lost her perspicuous sense; her instinct seemed asleep. she believed in the man and in his healing. was there anything more than that? the day of the great test came, hot, brilliant, vivid. the air was of a delicate sharpness, and, as it came toward evening, the glamour of an august when the reapers reap was upon jansen; and its people gathered round the house of mary jewell to await the miracle of faith. apart from the emotional many who sang hymns and spiritual songs were a few determined men, bent on doing justice to jansen though the heavens might fall. whether or no laura sloly was in love with the faith healer, jansen must look to its own honor--and hers. in any case, this peripatetic saint at sloly's ranch--the idea was intolerable; women must be saved in spite of themselves. laura was now in the house by the side of the bedridden mary jewell, waiting, confident, smiling, as she held the wasted hand on the coverlet. with her was a minister of the baptist persuasion, who was swimming with the tide, and who approved of the faith healer's immersions in the hot healing springs; also a medical student who had pretended belief in ingles, and two women weeping with unnecessary remorse for human failings of no dire kind. the windows were open, and those outside could see. presently, in a lull of the singing, there was a stir in the crowd, and then sudden loud greetings-"my, if it ain't tim denton! jerusalem! you back, tim!" these and other phrases caught the ear of laura sloly in the sick-room. a strange look flashed across her face, and the depth of her eyes was troubled for a moment, as to the face of the old comes a tremor at the note of some long-forgotten song. then she steadied herself and waited, catching bits of the loud talk which still floated toward her from without. "what's up? some one getting married--or a legacy, or a saw-off? why, what a lot of sunday-go-to-meeting folks _to_ be sure!" tim laughed loudly. after which the quick tongue of nicolle terasse: "you want know? _tiens_, be quiet; here he come. he cure you body and soul, ver' queeck--yes." the crowd swayed and parted, and slowly, bare head uplifted, face looking to neither right nor left, the faith healer made his way to the door of the little house. the crowd hushed. some were awed, some were overpoweringly interested, some were cruelly patient. nicolle terasse and others were whispering loudly to tim denton. that was the only sound, until the healer got to the door. then, on the steps, he turned to the multitude. "peace be to you all, and upon this house," he said, and stepped through the doorway. tim denton, who had been staring at the face of the healer, stood for an instant like one with all his senses arrested. then he gasped and exclaimed, "well, i'm eternally--!" and broke off with a low laugh, which was at first mirthful, and then became ominous and hard. "oh, magnificent!--magnificent!--jerickety!" he said into the sky above him. his friends who were not "saved" closed in on him to find the meaning of his words, but he pulled himself together, looked blankly at them, and asked them questions. they told him so much more than he cared to hear that his face flushed a deep red--the bronze of it most like the color of laura sloly's hair; then he turned pale. men saw that he was roused beyond any feeling in themselves. "'sh!" he said. "let's see what he can do." with the many who were silently praying, as they had been bidden to do, the invincible ones leaned forward, watching the little room where healing--or tragedy--was afoot. as in a picture, framed by the window, they saw the kneeling figures, the healer standing with outstretched arms. they heard his voice, sonorous and appealing, then commanding--and yet mary jewell did not rise from her bed and walk. again, and yet again, the voice rang out, and still the woman lay motionless. then he laid his hands upon her, and again he commanded her to rise. there was a faint movement, a desperate struggle to obey, but nature and time and disease had their way. yet again there was the call. an agony stirred the bed. then another great healer came between and mercifully dealt the sufferer a blow--death has a gentle hand sometimes. mary jewell was bedridden still--and forever. like a wind from the mountains the chill knowledge of death wailed through the window and over the heads of the crowd. all the figures were upright now in the little room. then those outside saw laura sloly lean over and close the sightless eyes. this done, she came to the door and opened it, and motioned for the healer to leave. he hesitated, hearing the harsh murmur from the outskirts of the crowd. once again she motioned, and he came. with a face deadly pale she surveyed the people before her silently for a moment, her eyes all huge and staring. presently she turned to ingles and spoke to him quickly in a low voice; then, descending the steps, passed out through the lane made for her by the crowd, he following with shaking limbs and bowed head. warning words had passed among the few invincible ones who waited where the healer must pass into the open, and there was absolute stillness as laura advanced. their work was to come--quiet and swift and sure; but not yet. only one face laura saw as she led the way to the moment's safety--tim denton's; and it was as stricken as her own. she passed, then turned and looked at him again. he understood; she wanted him. he waited till she sprang into her wagon, after the healer had mounted his mule and ridden away with ever-quickening pace into the prairie. then he turned to the set, fierce men beside him. "leave him alone," he said--"leave him to me. i know him. you hear? ain't i no rights? i tell you i knew him--south. you leave him to me." they nodded, and he sprang into his saddle and rode away. they watched the figure of the healer growing smaller in the dusty distance. "tim'll go to her," one said, "and perhaps they'll let the snake get off. hadn't we best make sure?" "perhaps you'd better let him vamoose," said flood rawley, anxiously. "jansen is a law-abiding place." the reply was decisive. jansen had its honor to keep. it was the home of the pioneers--laura sloly was a pioneer. * * * * * tim denton was a pioneer, with all the comradeship which lay in the word, and he was that sort of lover who has seen one woman and can never see another--not the product of the most modern civilization. before laura had had playmates he had given all he had to give; he had waited and hoped ever since; and when the ruthless gossips had said to him before mary jewell's house that she was in love with the faith healer, nothing changed in him. for the man--for ingles--tim belonged to a primitive breed, and love was not in his heart. as he rode out to sloly's ranch, he ground his teeth in rage. but laura had called him to her, and-"well, what you say goes, laura," he muttered at the end of a long hour of human passion and its repression. "if he's to go scot-free, then he's got to go; but the boys yonder'll drop on me if he gets away. can't you see what a swab he is, laura?" the brown eyes of the girl looked at him gently. the struggle between them was over; she had had her way--to save the preacher, impostor though he was; and now she felt, as she had never felt before in the same fashion, that this man was a man of men. "tim, you do not understand," she urged. "you say he was a landsharp in the south, and that he had to leave--" "he had to vamoose, or take tar and feathers." "but he had to leave. and he came here preaching and healing; and he is a hypocrite and a fraud--i know that now, my eyes are opened. he didn't do what he said he could do, and it killed mary jewell--the shock; and there were other things he said he could do, and didn't do them. perhaps he is all bad, as you say--i don't think so. but he did some good things, and through him i've felt as i've never felt before about god and life, and about walt and the baby--as though i'll see them again, sure. i've never felt that before. it was all as if they were lost in the hills, and no trail home, or out to where they are. like as not god was working in him all the time, tim; and he failed because he counted too much on the little he had, and made up for what he hadn't by what he pretended." "he can pretend to himself, or god almighty, or that lot down there"--he jerked a finger toward the town--"but to you, a girl, and a pioneer--" a flash of humor shot into her eyes at his last words, then they filled with tears, through which the smile shone. to pretend to "a pioneer"--the splendid vanity and egotism of the west! "he didn't pretend to me, tim. people don't usually have to _pretend_ to like me." "you know what i'm driving at." "oh yes, i know. and whatever he is, you've said that you will save him. i'm straight, you know that. somehow, what i felt from his preaching--well, everything got sort of mixed up with him, and he was--was different. it was like the long dream of walt and the baby, and he a part of it. i don't know what i felt, or what i might have felt for him. i'm a woman--i can't understand. but i know what i feel now. i never want to see him again on earth--or in heaven. it needn't be necessary even in heaven; but what happened between god and me through him stays, tim; and so you must help him get away safe. it's in your hands--you say they left it to you." "i don't trust that too much." suddenly he pointed out of the window toward the town. "see, i'm right; there they are, a dozen of 'em mounted. they're off, to run him down." her face paled; she glanced toward the hill of healing. "he's got an hour's start," she said; "he'll get into the mountains and be safe." "if they don't catch him 'fore that." "or if you don't get to him first," she said, with nervous insistence. he turned to her with a hard look; then, as he met her soft, fearless, beautiful eyes, his own grew gentle. "it takes a lot of doing. yet i'll do it for you, laura," he said. "but it's hard on the pioneers." once more her humor flashed, and it seemed to him that "getting religion" was not so depressing after all--wouldn't be, anyhow, when this nasty job was over. "the pioneers will get over it, tim," she rejoined. "they've swallowed a lot in their time. heaven's gate will have to be pretty wide to let in a real pioneer," she added. "he takes up so much room--ah, timothy denton!" she added, with an outburst of whimsical merriment. "it hasn't spoiled you--being converted--has it?" he said, and gave a quick little laugh, which somehow did more for his ancient cause with her than all he had ever said or done. then he stepped outside and swung into his saddle. * * * * * it had been a hard and anxious ride, but tim had won, and was keeping his promise. the night had fallen before he got to the mountains, which he and the pioneers had seen the faith healer enter. they had had four miles' start of tim, and had ridden fiercely, and they entered the gulch into which the refugee had disappeared still two miles ahead. the invincibles had seen tim coming, but they had determined to make a sure thing of it, and would themselves do what was necessary with the impostor, and take no chances. so they pressed their horses, and he saw them swallowed by the trees as darkness gathered. changing his course, he entered the familiar hills, which he knew better than any pioneer of jansen, and rode a diagonal course over the trail they would take. but night fell suddenly, and there was nothing to do but to wait till morning. there was comfort in this--the others must also wait, and the refugee could not go far. in any case, he must make for settlement or perish, since he had left behind his sheep and his cow. it fell out better than tim hoped. the pioneers were as good hunters as was he, their instinct was as sure, their scouts and trackers were many, and he was but one. they found the faith healer by a little stream, eating bread and honey, and, like an ancient woodlander, drinking from a horn--relic of his rank imposture. he made no resistance. they tried him, formally if perfunctorily; he admitted his imposture, and begged for his life. then they stripped him naked, tied a bit of canvas round his waist, fastened him to a tree, and were about to complete his punishment when tim denton burst upon them. whether the rage tim showed was all real or not; whether his accusations of bad faith came from so deeply wounded a spirit as he would have them believe, he was not likely to tell; but he claimed the prisoner as his own, and declined to say what he meant to do. when, however, they saw the abject terror of the faith healer as he begged not to be left alone with tim--for they had not meant death, and ingles thought he read death in tim's ferocious eyes--they laughed cynically, and left it to tim to uphold the honor of jansen and the pioneers. as they disappeared, the last thing they saw was tim with his back to them, his hands on his hips, and a knife clasped in his fingers. "he'll lift his scalp and make a monk of him," chuckled the oldest and hardest of them. "dat tim will cut his heart out, i t'ink--_bagosh_!" said nicolle terasse, and took a drink of white whiskey. for a long time tim stood looking at the other, until no sound came from the woods whither the pioneers had gone. then at last, slowly and with no roughness, as the terror-stricken impostor shrank and withered, he cut the cords. "dress yourself," he said, shortly, and sat down beside the stream, and washed his face and hands as though to cleanse them from contamination. he appeared to take no notice of the other, though his ears keenly noted every movement. the impostor dressed nervously, yet slowly; he scarce comprehended anything, except that he was not in immediate danger. when he had finished, he stood looking at tim, who was still seated on a log plunged in meditation. it seemed hours before tim turned round, and now his face was quiet, if set and determined. he walked slowly over, and stood looking at his victim for some time without speaking. the other's eyes dropped, and a grayness stole over his features. this steely calm was even more frightening than the ferocity which had previously been in his captor's face. at length the tense silence was broken: "wasn't the old game good enough? was it played out? why did you take to this? why did you do it, scranton?" the voice quavered a little in reply: "i don't know. something sort of pushed me into it." "how did you come to start it?" there was a long silence, then the husky reply came: "i got a sickener last time--" "yes, i remember, at waywing." "i got into the desert, and had hard times--awful for a while. i hadn't enough to eat, and i didn't know whether i'd die by hunger or fever or indians--or snakes." "oh, you were seeing snakes!" said tim, grimly. "not the kind you mean; i hadn't anything to drink--" "no, you never did drink, i remember--just was crooked, and slopped over women. well, about the snakes?" "i caught them to eat, and they were poison-snakes often. and i wasn't quick at first to get them safe by the neck--they're quick, too." tim laughed inwardly. "getting your food by the sweat of your brow--and a snake in it, same as adam! well, was it in the desert you got your taste for honey, too, same as john the baptist--that was his name, if i recomember?" he looked at the tin of honey on the ground. "not in the desert, but when i got to the grass-country." "how long were you in the desert?" "close to a year." tim's eyes opened wider. he saw that the man was speaking the truth. "got to thinking in the desert, and sort of willing things to come to pass, and mooning along, you and the sky and the vultures and the hot hills and the snakes and the flowers--eh?" "there weren't any flowers till i got to the grass-country." "oh, cuss me, if you ain't simple for your kind! i know all about that. and when you got to the grass-country you just picked up the honey and the flowers, and a calf and a lamb and a mule here and there, 'without money and without price,' and walked on--that it?" the other shrank before the steel in the voice, and nodded his head. "but you kept thinking in the grass-country of what you'd felt and said and done--and willed, in the desert, i suppose?" again the other nodded. "it seemed to you in the desert as if you'd saved your own life a hundred times, as if you'd just willed food and drink and safety to come; as if providence had been at your elbow?" "it was like a dream, and it stayed with me. i had to think in the desert things i'd never thought before," was the half-abstracted answer. "you _felt_ good in the desert?" the other hung his head in shame. "makes you seem pretty small, doesn't it? you didn't stay long enough, i guess, to get what you were feeling for; you started in on the new racket too soon. you never got really possessed that you was a sinner. i expect that's it." the other made no reply. "well, i don't know much about such things. i was loose brought up; but i've a friend"--laura was before his eyes--"that says religion's all right, and long ago as i can remember my mother used to pray three times a day--with grace at meals, too. i know there's a lot in it for them that need it; and there seems to be a lot of folks needing it, if i'm to judge by folks down there at jansen, 'specially when there's the laying-on of hands and the healing springs. oh, that was a pigsty game, scranton, that about god giving you the healing springs, like moses and the rock! why, i discovered them springs myself two years ago, before i went south, and i guess god wasn't helping me any--not after i've kept out of his way as i have. but, anyhow, religion's real; that's my sense of it; and you can get it, i bet, if you try. i've seen it got. a friend of mine got it--got it under your preaching; not from you; but you was the accident that brought it about, i expect. it's funny--it's merakilous, but it's so. kneel down!" he added, with peremptory suddenness. "kneel, scranton!" in fear the other knelt. "you're going to get religion now--here. you're going to pray for what you didn't get--and almost got--in the desert. you're going to ask forgiveness for all your damn tricks, and pray like a fanning-mill for the spirit to come down. you ain't a scoundrel at heart--a friend of mine says so. you're a weak vessel--cracked, perhaps. you've got to be saved, and start right over again--and 'praise god from whom all blessings flow!' pray--pray, scranton, and tell the whole truth, and get it--get religion. pray like blazes. you go on, and pray out loud. remember the desert, and mary jewell, and your mother--did you have a mother, scranton?--say, did you have a mother, lad?" tim's voice suddenly lowered before the last word, for the faith healer had broken down in a torrent of tears. "oh, my mother--o god!" he groaned. "say, that's right--that's right--go on," said the other and drew back a little, and sat down on a log. the man on his knees was convulsed with misery. denton, the world, disappeared. he prayed in agony. presently tim moved uneasily, then got up and walked about; and at last, with a strange, awed look, when an hour was past, he stole back into the shadow of the trees while still the wounded soul poured out its misery and repentance. time moved on. a curious shyness possessed tim now, a thing which he had never felt in his life. he moved about self-consciously, awkwardly, until at last there was a sudden silence over by the brook. tim looked, and saw the face of the kneeling man cleared and quiet and shining. he hesitated, then stepped out, and came over. "have you got it?" he asked, quietly. "it's noon now." "may god help me to redeem my past," answered the other, in a new voice. "you've got it--sure?" tim's voice was meditative. "god has spoken to me," was the simple answer. "i've got a friend'll be glad to hear that," he said; and once more, in imagination, he saw laura sloly standing at the door of her home, with a light in her eyes he had never seen before. "you'll want some money for your journey?" tim asked. "i want nothing but to go away--far away," was the low reply. "well, you've lived in the desert--i guess you can live in the grass-country," came the dry response, "good-bye--and good-luck, scranton." tim turned to go, moved on a few steps, then looked back. "don't be afraid--they'll not follow," he said. "i'll fix it for you all right." but the man appeared not to hear; he was still on his knees. tim faced the woods once more. he was about to mount his horse when he heard a step behind him. he turned sharply--and faced laura. "i couldn't rest. i came out this morning. i've seen everything," she said. "you didn't trust me," he said, heavily. "i never did anything else," she answered. he gazed half-fearfully into her eyes. "well?" he asked. "i've done my best, as i said i would." "tim," she said, and slipped a hand in his, "would you mind the religion--if you had me?" the little widow of jansen her advent to jansen was propitious. smallpox in its most virulent form had broken out in the french-canadian portion of the town, and, coming with some professional nurses from the east, herself an amateur, to attend the sufferers, she worked with such skill and devotion that the official thanks of the corporation were offered her, together with a tiny gold watch, the gift of grateful citizens. but she still remained on at jansen, saying always, however, that she was "going east in the spring." five years had passed, and still she had not gone east, but remained perched in the rooms she had first taken, over the imperial bank, while the town grew up swiftly round her. and even when the young bank manager married, and wished to take over the rooms, she sent him to the right-about from his own premises in her gay, masterful way. the young manager behaved well in the circumstances, because he had asked her to marry him, and she had dismissed him with a warning against challenging his own happiness--that was the way she had put it. perhaps he was galled the less because others had striven for the same prize, and had been thrust back, with an almost tender misgiving as to their sense of self-preservation and sanity. some of them were eligible enough, and all were of some position in the west. yet she smiled them firmly away, to the wonder of jansen, and to its satisfaction, for was it not a tribute to all that she would distinguish no particular unit by her permanent favor? but for one so sprightly and almost frivolous in manner at times, the self-denial seemed incongruous. she was unconventional enough to sit on the sidewalk with a half-dozen children round her blowing bubbles, or to romp in any garden, or in the street, playing puss-in-the-ring; yet this only made her more popular. jansen's admiration was at its highest, however, when she rode in the annual steeplechase with the best horsemen of the province. she had the gift of doing as well as of being. "'tis the light heart she has, and slippin' in and out of things like a hummin'-bird, no easier to ketch and no longer to stay," said finden, the rich irish landbroker, suggestively to father bourassa, the huge french-canadian priest who had worked with her through all the dark weeks of the smallpox epidemic, and who knew what lay beneath the outer gayety. she had been buoyant of spirit beside the beds of the sick, and her words were full of raillery and humor, yet there was ever a gentle note behind all; and the priest had seen her eyes shining with tears as she bent over some stricken sufferer bound upon an interminable journey. "bedad! as bright a little spark as ever struck off the steel," added finden to the priest, with a sidelong, inquisitive look, "but a heart no bigger than a marrowfat pea--selfishness, all self. keepin' herself for herself when there's many a good man needin' her. mother o' moses, how many! from terry o'ryan, brother of a peer, at latouche, to bernard bapty, son of a millionaire, at vancouver, there's a string o' them. all pride and self; and as fair a lot they've been as ever entered for the marriage cup. now isn't that so, father?" finden's brogue did not come from a plebeian origin. it was part of his commercial equipment, an asset of his boyhood spent among the peasants on the family estate in galway. father bourassa fanned himself with the black broadbrim hat he wore, and looked benignly but quizzically on the wiry, sharp-faced irishman. "you t'ink her heart is leetla. but perhaps it is your mind is not so big enough to see--_hien_?" the priest laughed noiselessly, showing white teeth. "was it so selfish in madame to refuse the name of finden--_n'est-ce pas_?" finden flushed, then burst into a laugh. "i'd almost forgotten i was one of them--the first almost. blessed be he that expects nothing, for he'll get it sure. it was my duty, and i did it. was she to feel that jansen did not price her high? bedad, father, i rose betimes and did it, before anny man should say he set me the lead. before the carpet in the parlor was down, and with the bare boards soundin' to my words, i offered her the name of finden." "and so--the first of the long line! _bien_, it is an honor." the priest paused a moment, looked at finden with a curious reflective look, and then said, "and so you t'ink there is no one; that she will say yes not at all--no?" they were sitting on father bourassa's verandah, on the outskirts of the town, above the great river, along which had travelled millions of bygone people, fighting, roaming, hunting, trapping; and they could hear it rushing past, see the swirling eddies, the impetuous currents, the occasional rafts moving majestically down the stream. they were facing the wild north, while civilization was hacking and hewing and ploughing its way to newer and newer cities, in an empire ever spreading to the pole. finden's glance loitered on this scene before he replied. at length, screwing up one eye, and with a suggestive smile, he answered: "sure, it's all a matter of time, to the selfishest woman. 'tis not the same with women as with men; you see, they don't get younger--that's a point. but"--he gave a meaning glance at the priest--"but perhaps she's not going to wait for that, after all. and there he rides, a fine figure of a man, too, if i have to say it!" "m'sieu' varley?" the priest responded, and watched a galloping horseman to whom finden had pointed till he rounded a corner of a little wood. "varley, the great london surgeon, sure! say, father, it's a hundred to one she'd take him if--" there was a curious look in father bourassa's face, a cloud in his eyes. he sighed. "london, it is ver' far away," he remarked, obliquely. "what's to that? if she is with the right man, near or far is nothing." "so far--from home," said the priest, reflectively, but his eyes furtively watched the other's face. "but home's where man and wife are." the priest now looked him straight in the eyes. "then, as you say, she will not marry m'sieu' varley--_hein_?" the humor died out of finden's face. his eyes met the priest's eyes steadily. "did i say that? then my tongue wasn't making a fool of me, after all. how did you guess i knew--everything, father?" "a priest knows many t'ings--so." there was a moment of gloom, then the irishman brightened. he came straight to the heart of the mystery around which they had been manoeuvring. "have you seen her husband--meydon--this year? it isn't his usual time to come yet." father bourassa's eyes drew those of his friend into the light of a new understanding and revelation. they understood and trusted each other. [illustration: "as purty a woman, too--as purty and as straight bewhiles"] "_hã©las!_ he is there in the hospital," he answered, and nodded toward a building not far away, which had been part of an old hudson bay company's fort. it had been hastily adapted as a hospital for the smallpox victims. "oh, it's meydon, is it, that bad case i heard of to-day?" the priest nodded again and pointed. "_voilã _, madame meydon, she is coming. she has seen him--her hoosban'." finden's eyes followed the gesture. the little widow of jansen was coming from the hospital, walking slowly toward the river. "as purty a woman, too--as purty and as straight bewhiles. what is the matter with him--with meydon?" finden asked, after a moment. "an accident in the woods--so. he arrive, it is las' night, from great slave lake." finden sighed. "ten years ago he was a man to look at twice--before he did _it_ and got away. now his own mother wouldn't know him--bad 'cess to him! i knew him from the cradle almost. i spotted him here by a knife-cut i gave him in the hand when we were lads together. a divil of a timper always both of us had, but the good-nature was with me, and i didn't drink and gamble and carry a pistol. it's ten years since he did the killing, down in quebec, and i don't suppose the police will get him now. he's been counted dead. i recognized him here the night after i asked her how she liked the name of finden. she doesn't know that i ever knew him. and he didn't recognize me--twenty-five years since we met before! it would be better if he went under the sod. is he pretty sick, father?" "he will die unless the surgeon's knife it cure him before twenty-four hours, and--" "and doctor brydon is sick, and doctor hadley away at winnipeg, and this is two hundred miles from nowhere! it looks as if the police'll never get him, eh?" "you have not tell any one--never?" finden laughed. "though i'm not a priest, i can lock myself up as tight as anny. there's no tongue that's so tied, when tying's needed, as the one that babbles most bewhiles. babbling covers a lot of secrets." "so you t'ink it better meydon should die, as hadley is away and brydon is sick--_hein_?" "oh, i think--" finden stopped short, for a horse's hoofs sounded on the turf beside the house, and presently varley, the great london surgeon, rounded the corner and stopped his horse in front of the veranda. he lifted his hat to the priest. "i hear there's a bad case at the hospital," he said. "it is ver' dangerous," answered father bourassa; "but, _voilã _, come in! there is something cool to drink. ah, yes, he is ver' bad, that man from the great slave lake." inside the house, with the cooling drinks, varley pressed his questions, and presently, much interested, told at some length of singular cases which had passed through his hands--one a man with his neck broken, who had lived for six months afterward. "broken as a man's neck is broken by hanging--dislocation, really--the disjointing of the _medulla oblongata_, if you don't mind technicalities," he said. "but i kept him living just the same. time enough for him to repent in and get ready to go. a most interesting case. he was a criminal, too, and wanted to die; but you have to keep life going if you can, to the last inch of resistance." the priest looked thoughtfully out of the window; finden's eyes were screwed up in a questioning way, but neither made any response to varley's remarks. there was a long minute's silence. they were all three roused by hearing a light footstep on the veranda. father bourassa put down his glass and hastened into the hallway. finden caught a glimpse of a woman's figure, and, without a word, passed abruptly from the dining-room, where they were, into the priest's study, leaving varley alone. varley turned to look after him, stared, and shrugged his shoulders. "the manners of the west," he said, good-humoredly, and turned again to the hallway, from whence came the sound of the priest's voice. presently there was another voice--a woman's. he flushed slightly and involuntarily straightened himself. "valerie," he murmured. an instant afterward she entered the room with the priest. she was dressed in a severely simple suit of gray, which set off to advantage her slim, graceful figure. there seemed no reason why she should have been called the little widow of jansen, for she was not small, but she was very finely and delicately made, and the name had been but an expression of jansen's paternal feeling for her. she had always had a good deal of fresh color, but to-day she seemed pale, though her eyes had a strange disturbing light. it was not that they brightened on seeing this man before her; they had been brighter, burningly bright, when she left the hospital, where, since it had been built, she had been the one visitor of authority--jansen had given her that honor. she had a gift of smiling, and she smiled now, but it came from grace of mind rather than from humor. as finden had said, "she was forever acting, and never doin' any harm by it." certainly she was doing no harm by it now; nevertheless, it was acting. could it be otherwise, with what was behind her life--a husband who had ruined her youth, had committed homicide, had escaped capture, but who had not subsequently died, as the world believed he had done, so circumstantial was the evidence. he was not man enough to make the accepted belief in his death a fact. what could she do but act, since the day she got a letter from the far north, which took her out to jansen, nominally to nurse those stricken with smallpox under father bourassa's care, actually to be where her wretched husband could come to her once a year, as he had asked with an impossible selfishness? each year she had seen him for an hour or less, giving him money, speaking to him over a gulf so wide that it seemed sometimes as though her voice could not be heard across it; each year opening a grave to look at the embalmed face of one who had long since died in shame, which only brought back the cruellest of all memories, that which one would give one's best years to forget. with a fortitude beyond description she had faced it, gently, quietly, but firmly faced it--firmly, because she had to be firm in keeping him within those bounds the invasion of which would have killed her. and after the first struggle with his unchangeable brutality it had been easier: for into his degenerate brain there had come a faint understanding of the real situation and of her. he had kept his side of the gulf, but gloating on this touch between the old luxurious, indulgent life, with its refined vices, and this present coarse, hard life, where pleasures were few and gross. the free northern life of toil and hardship had not refined him. he greedily hung over this treasure, which was not for his spending, yet was his own--as though in a bank he had hoards of money which he might not withdraw. so the years had gone on, with their recurrent dreaded anniversaries, carrying misery almost too great to be borne by this woman mated to the loathed phantom of a sad, dead life; and when this black day of each year was over, for a few days afterwards she went nowhere, was seen by none. yet, when she did appear again, it was with her old laughing manner, her cheerful and teasing words, her quick response to the emotions of others. so it had gone till varley had come to follow the open-air life for four months, after a heavy illness due to blood-poisoning got in his surgical work in london. she had been able to live her life without too great a struggle till he came. other men had flattered her vanity, had given her a sense of power, had made her understand her possibilities, but nothing more--nothing of what varley brought with him. and before three months had gone, she knew that no man had ever interested her as varley had done. ten years before, she would not have appreciated or understood him, this intellectual, clean-shaven, rigidly abstemious man, whose pleasures belonged to the fishing-rod and the gun and the horse, and who had come to be so great a friend of him who had been her best friend--father bourassa. father bourassa had come to know the truth--not from her, for she had ever been a protestant, but from her husband, who, catholic by birth and a renegade from all religion, had had a moment of spurious emotion, when he went and confessed to father bourassa and got absolution, pleading for the priest's care of his wife. afterward father bourassa made up his mind that the confession had a purpose behind it other than repentance, and he deeply resented the use to which he thought he was being put--a kind of spy upon the beautiful woman whom jansen loved, and who, in spite of any outward flippancy, was above reproach. in vital things the instinct becomes abnormally acute, and, one day, when the priest looked at her commiseratingly, she had divined what moved him. however it was, she drove him into a corner with a question to which he dare not answer yes, but to which he might not answer no, and did not; and she realized that he knew the truth, and she was the better for his knowing, though her secret was no longer a secret. she was not aware that finden also knew. then varley came, bringing a new joy and interest in her life, and a new suffering also, for she realized that if she were free, and varley asked her to marry him, she would consent. but when he did ask her, she said no with a pang that cut her heart in two. he had stayed his four months, and it was now six months, and he was going at last--to-morrow. he had stayed to give her time to learn to say yes, and to take her back with him to london; and she knew that he would speak again to-day, and that she must say no again; but she had kept him from saying the words till now. and the man who had ruined her life and had poisoned her true spirit was come back broken and battered. he was hanging between life and death; and now--for he was going to-morrow--varley would speak again. the half-hour she had just spent in the hospital with meydon had tried her cruelly. she had left the building in a vortex of conflicting emotions, with the call of duty and of honor ringing through a thousand other voices of temptation and desire, the inner pleadings for a little happiness while yet she was young. after she married meydon, there had only been a few short weeks of joy before her black disillusion came, and she had realized how bitter must be her martyrdom. when she left the hospital, she seemed moving in a dream, as one intoxicated by some elixir might move unheeding among event and accident and vexing life and roaring multitudes. and all the while the river flowing through the endless prairies, high-banked, ennobled by living woods, lipped with green, kept surging in her ears, inviting her, alluring her--alluring her with a force too deep and powerful for weak human nature to bear for long. it would ease her pain, it said; it would still the tumult and the storm; it would solve her problem, it would give her peace. but as she moved along the river-bank among the trees, she met the little niece of the priest, who lived in his house, singing, as though she was born but to sing, a song which finden had written and father bourassa had set to music. did not the distant west know father bourassa's gift, and did not protestants attend mass to hear him play the organ afterward? the fresh, clear voice of the child rang through the trees, stealing the stricken heart away from the lure of the river: "will you come back home, where the young larks are singin'? the door is open wide, and the bells of lynn are ringin'; there's a little lake i know, and a boat you used to row to the shore beyond that's quiet--will you come back home? "will you come back, darlin'? never heed the pain and blightin', never trouble that you're wounded, that you bear the scars of fightin'; here's the luck o' heaven to you, here's the hand of love will brew you the cup of peace--ah, darlin', will you come back home?" she stood listening for a few moments, and, under the spell of the fresh, young voice, the homely, heart-searching words, and the intimate sweetness of the woods, the despairing apathy lifted slowly away. she started forward again with a new understanding, her footsteps quickened. she would go to father bourassa. he would understand. she would tell him all. he would help her to do what now she knew she must do, ask leonard varley to save her husband's life--leonard varley to save her husband's life! when she stepped upon the veranda of the priest's house, she did not know that varley was inside. she had no time to think. she was ushered into the room where he was, with the confusing fact of his presence fresh upon her. she had had but a word or two with the priest, but enough for him to know what she meant to do, and that it must be done at once. varley advanced to meet her. she shuddered inwardly to think what a difference there was between the fallen creature she had left behind in the hospital and this tall, dark, self-contained man, whose name was familiar in the surgeries of europe, who had climbed from being the son of a clockmaker to his present distinguished place. "have you come for absolution, also?" he asked, with a smile; "or is it to get a bill of excommunication against your only enemy--there couldn't be more than one?" cheerful as his words were, he was shrewdly observing her, for her paleness and the strange light in her eyes gave him a sense of anxiety. he wondered what trouble was on her. "excommunication?" he repeated. the unintended truth went home. she winced, even as she responded with that quaint note in her voice which gave humor to her speech. "yes, excommunication," she replied; "but why an enemy? do we not need to excommunicate our friends sometimes?" "that is a hard saying," he answered, soberly. tears sprang to her eyes, but she mastered herself, and brought the crisis abruptly. "i want you to save a man's life," she said, with her eyes looking straight into his. "will you do it?" his face grew grave and eager. "i want you to save a man's happiness," he answered. "will you do it?" "that man yonder will die unless your skill saves him," she urged. "this man here will go away unhappy and alone, unless your heart befriends him," he replied, coming closer to her. "at sunrise to-morrow he goes." he tried to take her hand. "oh, please, please," she pleaded, with a quick, protesting gesture. "sunrise is far off, but the man's fate is near, and you must save him. you only can do so, for doctor hadley is away, and doctor brydon is sick, and in any case doctor brydon dare not attempt the operation alone. it is too critical and difficult, he says." "so i have heard," he answered, with a new note in his voice, his professional instinct roused in spite of himself. "who is this man? what interests you in him?" "to how many unknown people have you given your skill for nothing--your skill and all your experience to utter strangers, no matter how low or poor! is it not so? well, i cannot give to strangers what you have given to so many, but i can help in my own way." "you want me to see the man at once?" "if you will." "what is his name? i know of his accident and the circumstances." she hesitated for an instant, then said, "he is called draper--a trapper and a woodsman." "but i was going away to-morrow at sunrise. all my arrangements are made," he urged, his eyes holding hers, his passion swimming in his eyes again. "but you will not see a man die, if you can save him?" she pleaded, unable now to meet his look, its mastery and its depth. her heart had almost leaped with joy at the suggestion that he could not stay; but as suddenly self-reproach and shame filled her mind, and she had challenged him so. but yet, what right had she to sacrifice this man she loved to the perverted criminal who had spoiled her youth and taken away from her every dear illusion of her life and heart? by every right of justice and humanity she was no more the wife of henry meydon than if she had never seen him. he had forfeited every claim upon her, dragged in the mire her unspotted life--unspotted, for in all temptation, in her defenceless position, she had kept the whole commandment; she had, while at the mercy of her own temperament, fought her way through all, with a weeping heart and laughing lips. had she not longed for a little home with a great love, and a strong, true man? ah, it had been lonely, bitterly lonely! yet she had remained true to the scoundrel, from whom she could not free herself without putting him in the grasp of the law to atone for his crime. she was punished for his crimes; she was denied the exercise of her womanhood in order to shield him. still she remembered that once she had loved him, those years ago, when he first won her heart from those so much better than he, who loved her so much more honestly; and this memory had helped her in a way. she had tried to be true to it, that dead, lost thing, of which this man who came once a year to see her, and now, lying with his life at stake in the hospital, was the repellent ghost. "ah, you will not see him die?" she urged. "it seems to move you greatly what happens to this man," he said, his determined dark eyes searching hers, for she baffled him. if she could feel so much for a "casual," why not a little more feeling for him? suddenly, as he drew her eyes to him again, there came the conviction that they were full of feeling for him. they were sending a message, an appealing, passionate message, which told him more than he had ever heard from her or seen in her face before. yes, she was his! without a word spoken she had told him so. what, then, held her back? but women were a race by themselves, and he knew that he must wait till she chose to have him know what she had unintentionally conveyed but now. "yes, i am moved," she continued, slowly. "who can tell what this man might do with his life if it is saved! don't you think of that? it isn't the importance of a life that's at stake; it's the importance of living; and we do not live alone, do we?" his mind was made up. "i will not, cannot promise anything till i have seen him. but i will go and see him, and i'll send you word later what i can do or not do. will that satisfy you? if i cannot do it, i will come to say good-bye." her face was set with suppressed feeling. she held out her hand to him impulsively, and was about to speak, but suddenly caught the hand away again from his thrilling grasp and, turning hurriedly, left the room. in the hall she met father bourassa. "go with him to the hospital," she whispered, and disappeared through the doorway. immediately after she had gone, a man came driving hard to bring father bourassa to visit a dying catholic in the prairie, and it was finden who accompanied varley to the hospital, waited for him till his examination of the "casual" was concluded, and met him outside. "can it be done?" he asked of varley. "i'll take word to father bourassa." "it can be done--it will be done," answered varley, absently. "i do not understand the man. he has been in a different sphere of life. he tried to hide it, but the speech--occasionally! i wonder." "you wonder if he's worth saving?" varley shrugged his shoulders impatiently. "no; that's not what i meant." finden smiled to himself. "is it a difficult case?" he asked. "critical and delicate; but it has been my specialty." "one of the local doctors couldn't do it, i suppose?" "they would be foolish to try." "and you are going away at sunrise to-morrow?" "who told you that?" varley's voice was abrupt, impatient. "i heard you say so--everybody knows it.... that's a bad man yonder, varley." he jerked his thumb toward the hospital. "a terrible bad man, he's been. a gentleman once, and fell down--fell down hard. he's done more harm than most men. he's broken a woman's heart and spoiled her life, and, if he lives, there's no chance for her, none at all. he killed a man, and the law wants him; and she can't free herself without ruining him; and she can't marry the man she loves because of that villain yonder, crying for his life to be saved. by josh and by joan, but it's a shame, a dirty shame, it is!" suddenly varley turned and gripped his arm with fingers of steel. "his name--his real name?" "his name's meydon--and a dirty shame it is, varley." varley was white. he had been leading his horse and talking to finden. he mounted quickly now, and was about to ride away, but stopped short again. "who knows--who knows the truth?" he asked. "father bourassa and me--no others," he answered. "i knew meydon thirty years ago." there was a moment's hesitation, then varley said, hoarsely, "tell me--tell me all." when all was told, he turned his horse toward the wide waste of the prairie, and galloped away. finden watched him till he was lost to view beyond the bluff. "now, a man like that, you can't guess what he'll do," he said, reflectively. "he's a high-stepper, and there's no telling what foolishness will get hold of him. it'd be safer if he got lost on the prairie for twenty-four hours. he said that meydon's only got twenty-four hours, if the trick isn't done! well--" he took a penny from his pocket. "i'll toss for it. heads he does it, and tails he doesn't." he tossed. it came down heads. "well, there's one more fool in the world than i thought," he said, philosophically, as though he had settled the question; as though the man riding away into the prairie with a dark problem to be solved had told the penny what he meant to do. * * * * * mrs. meydon, father bourassa, and finden stood in the little waiting-room of the hospital at jansen, one at each window, and watched the wild thunderstorm which had broken over the prairie. the white heliographs of the elements flashed their warnings across the black sky, and the roaring artillery of the thunder came after, making the circle of prairie and tree and stream a theatre of anger and conflict. the streets of jansen were washed with flood, and the green and gold things of garden and field and harvest crumbled beneath the sheets of rain. the faces at the window of the little room of the hospital, however, were but half-conscious of the storm; it seemed only an accompaniment of their thoughts, to typify the elements of tragedy surrounding them. for varley there had been but one thing to do. a life might be saved, and it was his duty to save it. he had ridden back from the prairie as the sun was setting the night before, and had made all arrangements at the hospital, giving orders that meydon should have no food whatever till the operation was performed the next afternoon, and nothing to drink except a little brandy-and-water. the operation was performed successfully, and varley had issued from the operating-room with the look of a man who had gone through an ordeal which had taxed his nerve to the utmost, to find valerie meydon waiting, with a piteous, dazed look in her eyes. but this look passed when she heard him say, "all right!" the words brought a sense of relief, for if he had failed, it would have seemed almost unbearable in the circumstances--the cup of trembling must be drunk to the dregs. few words had passed between them, and he had gone, while she remained behind with father bourassa, till the patient should wake from the sleep into which he had fallen when varley left. but within two hours they sent for varley again, for meydon was in evident danger. varley had come, and had now been with the patient for some time. at last the door opened and varley came in quickly. he beckoned to mrs. meydon and to father bourassa. "he wishes to speak with you," he said to her. "there is little time." her eyes scarcely saw him, as she left the room and passed to where meydon lay nerveless, but with wide-open eyes, waiting for her. the eyes closed, however, before she reached the bed. presently they opened again, but the lids remained fixed. he did not hear what she said. * * * * * in the little waiting-room, finden said to varley, "what happened?" "food was absolutely forbidden, but he got it from another patient early this morning while the nurse was out for a moment. it has killed him." "'twas the least he could do, but no credit's due him. it was to be. i'm not envying father bourassa nor her there with him." varley made no reply. he was watching the receding storm with eyes which told nothing. finden spoke once more, but varley did not hear him. presently the door opened and father bourassa entered. he made a gesture of the hand to signify that all was over. outside, the sun was breaking through the clouds upon the western prairie, and there floated through the evening air the sound of a child's voice singing beneath the trees that fringed the river: "will you come back, darlin'? never heed the pain and blightin', never trouble that you're wounded, that you bear the scars of fightin'; here's the luck o' heaven to you, here's the hand of love will brew you the cup of peace--ah, darlin', will you come back home?" watching the rise of orion "in all the wide border his steed was the best," and the name and fame of terence o'ryan were known from strathcona to qu'appelle. he had ambition of several kinds, and he had the virtue of not caring who knew of it. he had no guile, and little money; but never a day's work was too hard for him, and he took bad luck, when it came, with a jerk of the shoulder and a good-natured surprise on his clean-shaven face that suited well his wide gray eyes and large, luxurious mouth. he had an estate, half ranch, half farm, with a french-canadian manager named vigon, an old prospector who viewed every foot of land in the world with the eye of the discoverer. gold, coal, iron, oil, he searched for them everywhere, making sure that sooner or later he would find them. once vigon had found coal. that was when he worked for a man called constantine jopp, and had given him great profit; but he, the discoverer, had been put off with a horse and a hundred dollars. he was now as devoted to terence o'ryan as he had been faithful to constantine jopp, whom he cursed waking and sleeping. in his time o'ryan had speculated, and lost; he had floated a coal-mine, and "been had"; he had run for the local legislature, had been elected, and then unseated for bribery committed by an agent; he had run races at regina, and won--he had won for three years in succession; and this had kept him going and restored his finances when they were at their worst. he was, in truth, the best rider in the country, and, so far, was the owner also of the best three-year-old that the west had produced. he achieved popularity without effort. the west laughed at his enterprises and loved him; he was at once a public moral and a hero. it was a legend of the west that his forebears had been kings in ireland like brian boroihme. he did not contradict this; he never contradicted anything. his challenge to all fun and satire and misrepresentation was, "what'll be the differ a hundred years from now!" he did not use this phrase, however, toward one experience--the advent of miss molly mackinder, the heiress, and the challenge that reverberated through the west after her arrival. philosophy deserted him then; he fell back on the primary emotions of mankind. a month after miss mackinder's arrival at la touche a dramatic performance was given at the old fort, in which the officers of the mounted police took part, together with many civilians who fancied themselves. by that time the district had realized that terry o'ryan had surrendered to what they called "the laying on of hands" by molly mackinder. it was not certain, however, that the surrender was complete, because o'ryan had been wounded before, and yet had not been taken captive altogether. his complete surrender seemed now more certain to the public because the lady had a fortune of two hundred thousand dollars, and that amount of money would be useful to an ambitious man in the growing west. it would, as gow johnson said, "let him sit back and view the landscape o'er before he puts his ploughshare in the mud." there was an out-door scene in the play produced by the impetuous amateurs, and dialogue had been interpolated by three "imps of fame" at the suggestion of constantine jopp, one of the three, who bore malice toward o'ryan, though this his colleagues did not know distinctly. the scene was a camp-fire--a starlit night, a colloquy between the three, upon which the hero of the drama, played by terry o'ryan, should break, after having, unknown to them, but in sight of the audience, overheard their kind intentions toward himself. the night came. when the curtain rose for the third act there was exposed a star-sown sky, in which the galaxy of orion was shown with distinctness, each star sharply twinkling from the electric power behind--a pretty scene, evoking great applause. o'ryan had never seen this back curtain--they had taken care that he should not--and, standing in the wings awaiting his cue, he was unprepared for the laughter of the audience, first low and uncertain, then growing, then insistent, and now a peal of ungovernable mirth, as one by one they understood the significance of the stars of orion on the back curtain. o'ryan got his cue, and came on to an outburst of applause which shook the walls. la touche rose at him, among them miss molly mackinder in the front row with the notables. he did not see the back curtain, or orion blazing in the ultramarine blue. according to the stage directions, he was to steal along the trees at the wings, and listen to the talk of the men at the fire plotting against him, who were presently to pretend good comradeship to his face. it was a vigorous melodrama, with some touches of true western feeling. after listening for a moment, o'ryan was to creep up the stage again toward the back curtain, giving a cue for his appearance. when the hilarious applause at his entrance had somewhat subsided, the three took up their parable, but it was not the parable of the play. they used dialogue not in the original. it had a significance which the audience were not slow to appreciate, and went far to turn _the sunburst trail_ at this point into a comedy-farce. when this new dialogue began, o'ryan could scarcely trust his ears or realize what was happening. "ah, look," said dicky fergus at the fire, "as fine a night as i ever saw in the west! the sky's a picture. you could almost hand the stars down, they're so near." "what's that clump together on the right--what are they called in astronomy?" asked constantine jopp, with a leer. "orion is the name--a beauty, ain't it?" answered fergus. "i've been watching orion rise," said the third--holden was his name. "many's the time i've watched orion rising. orion's the star for me. say, he wipes 'em all out--right out. watch him rising now." by a manipulation of the lights orion moved up the back curtain slowly and blazed with light nearer the zenith. and la touche had more than the worth of its money in this opening to the third act of the play. o'ryan was a favorite, at whom la touche loved to jeer, and the parable of the stars convulsed them. at the first words o'ryan put a hand on himself and tried to grasp the meaning of it all, but his entrance and the subsequent applause had confused him. presently, however, he turned to the back curtain, as orion moved slowly up the heavens, and found the key to the situation. he gasped. then he listened to the dialogue, which had nothing to do with "_the sunburst trail_." "what did orion do, and why does he rise? has he got to rise? why was the gent called orion in them far-off days?" asked holden. "he did some hunting in his time--with a club," fergus replied. "he kept making hits, he did. orion was a spoiler. when he took the field there was no room for the rest of the race. why does he rise? because it is a habit. they could always get a rise out of orion. the athens _eirenicon_ said that yeast might fail to rise, but touch the button and orion would rise like a bird." at that instant the galaxy jerked up the back curtain again, and, when the audience could control itself, constantine jopp, grinning meanly, asked: "why does he wear the girdle?" "it is not a girdle--it is a belt," was dicky fergus' reply. "the gods gave it to him because he was a favorite. there was a lady called artemis--she was the last of them. but he went visiting with eos, another lady of previous acquaintance, down at a place called ortygia, and artemis shot him dead with a shaft apollo had given her; but she didn't marry apollo neither. she laid orion out on the sky, with his glittering belt around him. and orion keeps on rising." "will he ever stop rising?" asked holden. followed for the conspirators a disconcerting moment; for, when the laughter had subsided, a lazy voice came from the back of the hall, "he'll stop long enough to play with apollo a little, i guess." it was gow johnson who had spoken, and no man knew terry o'ryan better, or could gauge more truly the course he would take. he had been in many an enterprise, many a brush with o'ryan, and his friendship would bear any strain. o'ryan recovered himself from the moment he saw the back curtain, and he did not find any fun in the thing. it took a hold on him out of all proportion to its importance. he realized that he had come to the parting of the ways in his life. it suddenly came upon him that something had been lacking in him in the past, and that his want of success in many things had not been wholly due to bad luck. he had been eager, enterprising, a genius almost at seeing good things; and yet others had reaped where he had sown. he had believed too much in his fellow-man. for the first time in his life he resented the friendly, almost affectionate satire of his many friends. it was amusing, it was delightful; but down beneath it all there was a little touch of ridicule. he had more brains than any of them, and he had known it in a way; he had led them sometimes, too, as on raids against cattle-stealers, and in a brush with half-breeds and indians; as when he stood for the legislature; but he felt now for the first time that he had not made the most of himself, that there was something hurting to self-respect in this prank played upon him. when he came to that point his resentment went higher. he thought of molly mackinder, and he heard all too acutely the vague veiled references to her in their satire. by the time gow johnson spoke he had mastered himself, however, and had made up his mind. he stood still for a moment. "now, please, my cue," he said, quietly and satirically from the trees near the wings. he was smiling, but gow johnson's prognostication was right; and ere long the audience realized that he was right. there was standing before them not the terry o'ryan they had known, but another. he threw himself fully into his part--a young rancher made deputy-sheriff, who by the occasional exercise of his duty had incurred the hatred of a small floating population that lived by fraud, violence, and cattle-stealing. the conspiracy was to raid his cattle, to lure him to pursuit, to ambush him, and kill him. terry now played the part with a naturalness and force which soon lifted the play away from the farcical element introduced into it by those who had interpolated the gibes at himself. they had gone a step too far. "he's going large," said gow johnson, as the act drew near its close and the climax neared where o'ryan was to enter upon a physical struggle with his assailants. "his blood's up. there'll be hell to pay." to gow johnson the play had instantly become real, and o'ryan an injured man at bay, the victim of the act--not of the fictitious characters of the play, but of the three men, fergus, holden, and constantine jopp, who had planned the discomfiture of o'ryan; and he felt that the victim's resentment would fall heaviest on constantine jopp, the bully, an old schoolmate of terry's. jopp was older than o'ryan by three years, which in men is little, but in boys, at a certain time of life, is much. it means, generally, weight and height, an advantage in a scrimmage. constantine jopp had been the plague and tyrant of o'ryan's boyhood. he was now a big, leering fellow, with much money of his own, got chiefly from the coal discovered on his place by vigon, the half-breed french-canadian. he had a sense of dark and malicious humor, a long, horse-like face, with little, beady eyes, and a huge frame. again and again had terry fought him as a boy at school, and often he had been badly whipped, but he had never refused the challenge of an insult when he was twelve and jopp fifteen. the climax to their enmity at school had come one day when terry was seized with a cramp while bathing, and after having gone down twice was rescued by jopp, who dragged him out by the hair of the head. he had been restored to consciousness on the bank and carried to his home, where he lay ill for days. during the course of the slight fever which followed the accident his hair was cut close to his head. impetuous always, his first thought was to go and thank constantine jopp for having saved his life. as soon as he was able he went forth to find his rescuer, and met him suddenly on turning a corner of the street. before he could stammer out the gratitude that was in his heart, jopp, eying him with a sneering smile, said, drawlingly: "if you'd had your hair cut like that i couldn't have got you out, could i? holy, what a sight! next time i'll take you by the scruff, putty face--bah!" that was enough for terry. he had swallowed the insult, stuttered his thanks to the jeering laugh of the lank bully, and had gone home and cried in shame and rage. it was the one real shadow in his life. ill-luck and good luck had been taken with an equable mind; but the fact that he must, while he lived, own the supreme debt of his life to a boy and afterward to a man whom he hated by instinct was a constant cloud on him. jopp owned him. for some years they did not meet, and then at last they again were thrown together in the west, when jopp settled at la touche. it was gall and wormwood to terry, but he steeled himself to be friendly, although the man was as great a bully as the boy, as offensive in mind and character; but withal acute and able in his way, and with a reputation for commercial sharpness which would be called by another name in a different civilization. they met constantly, and o'ryan always put a hand on himself, and forced himself to be friendly. once when jopp became desperately ill there had been--though he fought it down, and condemned himself in every term of reproach--a sense of relief in the thought that perhaps his ancient debt would now be cancelled. it had gone on so long. and constantine jopp had never lost an opportunity of vexing him, of turturing him, of giving veiled thrusts, which he knew o'ryan could not resent. it was the constant pin-prick of a mean soul, who had an advantage of which he could never be dispossessed--unless the ledger was balanced in some inscrutable way. apparently bent on amusement only, and hiding his hatred from his colleagues, jopp had been the instigator and begetter of the huge joke of the play; but it was the brains of dick fergus which had carried it out, written the dialogue, and planned the electric appliances of the back curtain--for he was an engineer and electrician. neither he nor holden had known the old antipathy of terry and constantine jopp. there was only one man who knew the whole truth, and that was gow johnson, to whom terry had once told all. at the last moment fergus had interpolated certain points in the dialogue which were not even included at rehearsal. these referred to apollo. he had a shrewd notion that jopp had an idea of marrying molly mackinder if he could, cousins though they were; and he was also aware that jopp, knowing molly's liking for terry, had tried to poison her mind against him, through suggestive gossip about a little widow at jansen, thirty miles away. he had in so far succeeded that, on the very day of the performance, molly had declined to be driven home from the race-course by terry, despite the fact that terry had won the chief race and owned the only dog-cart in the west. as the day went on, fergus realized, as had gow johnson, that jopp had raised a demon. the air was electric. the play was drawing near to its climax--an attempt to capture the deputy-sheriff, tie him to a tree, and leave him bound and gagged alone in the waste. there was a glitter in terry's eyes, belying the lips which smiled in keeping with the character he presented. a look of harshness was stamped on his face, and the outlines of the temples were as sharp as the chin was set and the voice slow and penetrating. molly mackinder's eyes were riveted on him. she sat very still, her hands clasped in her lap, watching his every move. instinct told her that terry was holding himself in; that some latent fierceness and iron force in him had emerged into life; and that he meant to have revenge on constantine jopp one way or another, and that soon; for she had heard the rumor flying through the hall that her cousin was the cause of the practical joke just played. from hints she had had from constantine that very day she knew that the rumor was the truth; and she recalled now with shrinking dislike the grimace accompanying the suggestion. she had not resented it then, being herself angry with terry because of the little widow at jansen. presently the silence in the hall became acute; the senses of the audience were strained to the utmost. the acting before them was more realistic than anything they had ever seen, or were ever likely to see again in la touche. all three conspirators, fergus, holden, and jopp, realized that o'ryan's acting had behind it an animal anger which transformed him. when he looked into their eyes it was with a steely directness harder and fiercer than was observed by the audience. once there was an occasion for o'ryan to catch fergus by the arm, and fergus winced from the grip. when standing in the wings with terry he ventured to apologize playfully for the joke, but terry made no answer; and once again he had whispered good-naturedly as they stood together on the stage; but the reply had been a low, scornful laugh. fergus realized that a critical moment was at hand. the play provided for some dialogue between jopp and terry, and he observed with anxiety that terry now interpolated certain phrases meant to warn constantine, and to excite him to anger also. the moment came upon them sooner than the text of the play warranted. o'ryan deliberately left out several sentences, and gave a later cue, and the struggle for his capture was precipitated. terry meant to make the struggle real. so thrilling had been the scene that to an extent the audience was prepared for what followed; but they did not grasp the full reality--that the play was now only a vehicle for a personal issue of a desperate character. no one had ever seen o'ryan angry; and now that the demon of rage was on him, directed by a will suddenly grown to its full height, they saw not only a powerful character in a powerful melodrama, but a man of wild force. when the three desperadoes closed in on o'ryan, and, with a blow from the shoulder which was not a pretence, he sent holden into a far corner gasping for breath and moaning with pain, the audience broke out into wild cheering. it was superb acting, they thought. as most of them had never seen the play, they were not surprised when holden did not again join the attack on the deputy-sheriff. those who did know the drama--among them molly mackinder--became dismayed, then anxious. fergus and jopp knew well from the blow o'ryan had given that, unless they could drag him down, the end must be disaster to some one. they were struggling with him for personal safety now. the play was forgotten, though mechanically o'ryan and fergus repeated the exclamations and the few phrases belonging to the part. jopp was silent, fighting with a malice which belongs to only half-breed, or half-bred, natures; and from far back in his own nature the distant indian strain in him was working in savage hatred. the two were desperately hanging onto o'ryan like pumas on a grizzly, when suddenly, with a twist he had learned from ogami the jap on the smoky river, the slim fergus was slung backward to the ground with the tendons of his arm strained and the arm itself useless for further work. there remained now constantine jopp, heavier and more powerful than o'ryan. for o'ryan the theatre, the people, disappeared. he was a boy again on the village-green, with the bully before him who had tortured his young days. he forgot the old debt to the foe who saved his life; he forgot everything except that once again, as of old, constantine jopp was fighting him, with long, strong arms trying to bring him to the ground. jopp's superior height gave him an advantage in a close grip; the strength of his gorilla-like arms was difficult to withstand. both were forgetful of the world, and the two other injured men, silent and awed, were watching the fight, in which one of them, at least, was powerless to take part. the audience was breathless. most now saw the grim reality of the scene before them; and when at last o'ryan's powerful right hand got a grip upon the throat of jopp, and they saw the grip tighten, tighten, and jopp's face go from red to purple, a hundred people gasped. excited men made as though to move toward the stage; but the majority still believed that it all belonged to the play, and shouted, "sit down!" suddenly the voice of gow johnson was heard: "don't kill him--let go, boy!" the voice rang out with sharp anxiety, and pierced the fog of passion and rage in which o'ryan was moving. he realized what he was doing, the real sense of it came upon him. suddenly he let go the lank throat of his enemy, and, by a supreme effort, flung him across the stage, where jopp lay resting on his hands, his bleared eyes looking at terry with the fear and horror still in them which had come with that tightening grip on his throat. silence fell suddenly on the theatre. the audience was standing. a woman sobbed somewhere in a far corner, but the rest were dismayed and speechless. a few steps before them all was molly mackinder, white and frightened, but in her eyes was a look of understanding as she gazed at terry. breathing hard, terry stood still in the middle of the stage, the red fog not yet gone out of his eyes, his hands clasped at his side, vaguely realizing the audience again. behind him was the back curtain, in which the lights of orion twinkled aggressively. the three men who had attacked him were still where he had thrown them. the silence was intense, the strain oppressive. but now a drawling voice came from the back of the hall. "are you watching the rise of orion?" it said. it was the voice of gow johnson. the strain was broken; the audience dissolved in laughter; but it was not hilarious; it was the nervous laughter of relief, touched off by a native humor always present in the dweller of the prairie. "i beg your pardon," said terry, quietly and abstractedly, to the audience. and the scene-shifter bethought himself and let down the curtain. the fourth act was not played that night. the people had had more than the worth of their money. in a few moments the stage was crowded with people from the audience, but both jopp and o'ryan had disappeared. among the visitors to the stage was molly mackinder. there was a meaning smile upon her face as she said to dicky fergus: "it was quite wonderful, wasn't it--like a scene out of the classics--the gladiators or something?" fergus gave a wary smile as he answered: "yes. i felt like saying '_ave, cã¦sar, ave!_' and i watched to see artemis drop her handkerchief." "she dropped it, but you were too busy to pick it up. it would have been a useful sling for your arm," she added, with thoughtful malice. "it seemed so real--you all acted so well, so appropriately. and how you keep it up!" she added, as he cringed when some one knocked against his elbow, hurting the injured tendons. fergus looked at her meditatively before he answered. "oh, i think we'll likely keep it up for some time," he rejoined, ironically. "then the play isn't finished?" she added. "there is another act? yes, i thought there was; the programme said four." "oh yes, there's another act," he answered, "but it isn't to be played now; and i'm not in it." "no, i suppose you are not in it. you really weren't in the last act. who will be in it?" fergus suddenly laughed outright as he looked at holden expostulating intently to a crowd of people round him. "well, honor bright, i don't think there'll be anybody in it except little conny jopp and gentle terry o'ryan; and conny mayn't be in it very long. but he'll be in it for a while, i guess. you see, the curtain came down in the middle of a situation, not at the end of it. the curtain has to rise again." "perhaps orion will rise again--you think so?" she laughed in satire; for dicky fergus had made love to her during the last three months with unsuppressed activity, and she knew him in his sentimental moments; which is fatal. it is fatal if, in a duet, one breathes fire and the other frost. "if you want my opinion," he said, in a lower voice, as they moved toward the door, while people tried to listen to them--"if you want it straight, i think orion has risen--right up where shines the evening star--oh, say, now," he broke off, "haven't you had enough fun out of me? i tell you, it was touch and go. he nearly broke my arm--would have done it, if i hadn't gone limp to him; and your cousin conny jopp, little conny jopp, was as near kingdom come as a man wants at his age. i saw an elephant go _must_ once in india, and it was as like o'ryan as putty is to dough. it isn't all over, either, for o'ryan will forget and forgive, and jopp won't. he's your cousin, but he's a sulker. if he has to sit up nights to do it, he'll try to get back on o'ryan. he'll sit up nights, but he'll do it, if he can. and, whatever it is, it won't be pretty." outside the door they met gow johnson, excitement in his eyes. he heard fergus' last words. "he'll see orion rising if he sits up nights," gow johnson said. "the game is with terry--at last." then he called to the dispersing, gossiping crowd: "hold on--hold on, you people! i've got news for you. folks, this is o'ryan's night. it's his in the starry firmament. look at him shine!" he cried, stretching out his arm toward the heavens, where the glittering galaxy hung near the zenith. "terry o'ryan--our o'ryan--he's struck oil--on his ranch it's been struck. old vigon found it. terry's got his own at last. o'ryan's in it--in it alone. now, let's hear the prairie-whisper!" he shouted, in a great, raucous voice. "let's hear the prairie-whisper! what is it?" the crowd responded in a hoarse shout for o'ryan and his fortune. even the women shouted--all except molly mackinder. she was wondering if o'ryan risen would be the same to her as o'ryan rising. she got into her carriage with a sigh, though she said to the few friends with her: "if it's true, it's splendid. he deserves it, too. oh, i'm glad--i'm so glad!" she laughed; but the laugh was a little hysterical. she was both glad and sorry. yet as she drove home over the prairie she was silent. far off in the east was a bright light. it was a bonfire built on o'ryan's ranch, near where he had struck oil--struck it rich. the light grew and grew, and the prairie was alive with people hurrying toward it. la touche should have had the news hours earlier, but the half-breed french-canadian, vigon, who had made the discovery, and had started for la touche with the news, went suddenly off his head with excitement, and had ridden away into the prairie fiercely shouting his joy to an invisible world. the news had been brought in later by a farm-hand. * * * * * terry o'ryan had really struck oil, and his ranch was a scene of decent revelry, of which gow johnson was master. but the central figure of it all, the man who had, in truth, risen like a star, had become to la touche all at once its notoriety as well as its favorite, its great man as well as its friend, he was nowhere to be found. he had been seen riding full speed into the prairie toward the kourmash wood, and the starlit night had swallowed him. constantine jopp had also disappeared; but at first no one gave that thought or consideration. as the night went on, however, a feeling began to stir which it is not good to rouse in frontier lands. it is sure to exhibit itself in forms more objective than are found in great populations where methods of punishment are various, and even when deadly are often refined. but society in new places has only limited resources, and is thrown back on primary ways and means. la touche was no exception, and the keener spirits, to whom o'ryan had ever been "a white man," and who so rejoiced in his good-luck now that they drank his health a hundred times in his own whiskey and cider, were simmering with desire for a public reproval of constantine jopp's conduct. though it was pointed out to them by the astute gow johnson that fergus and holden had participated in the colossal joke of the play, they had learned indirectly also the whole truth concerning the past of the two men. they realized that fergus and holden had been duped by jopp into the escapade. their primitive sense of justice exonerated the humorists and arraigned the one malicious man. as the night wore on they decided on the punishment to be meted out by la touche to the man who had not "acted on the square." gow johnson saw, too late, that he had roused a spirit as hard to appease as the demon roused in o'ryan earlier in the evening. he would have enjoyed the _battue_ of punishment under ordinary circumstances; but he knew that miss molly mackinder would be humiliated and indignant at the half-savage penalty they meant to exact. he had determined that o'ryan should marry her; and this might be an obstruction in the path. it was true that o'ryan now would be a rich man--one of the richest in the west, unless all signs failed; but, meanwhile, a union of fortunes would only be an added benefit. besides, he had seen that o'ryan was in earnest, and what o'ryan wanted he himself wanted even more strongly. he was not concerned greatly for o'ryan's absence. he guessed that terry had ridden away into the night to work off the dark spirit that was on him, to have it out with himself. gow johnson was a philosopher. he was twenty years older than o'ryan, and he had studied his friend as a pious monk his missal. he was right in his judgment. when terry left the theatre he was like one in a dream, every nerve in his body at tension, his head aflame, his pulses throbbing. for miles he rode away into the waste along the northern trail, ever away from la touche and his own home. he did not know of the great good-fortune that had come to him; and if, in this hour, he had known, he would not have cared. as he rode on and on remorse drew him into its grasp. shame seized him that he had let passion be his master, that he had lost his self-control, had taken a revenge out of all proportion to the injury and insult to himself. it did not ease his mind that he knew constantine jopp had done the thing out of meanness and malice; for he was alive to-night in the light of the stars, with the sweet, crisp air blowing in his face, because of an act of courage on the part of his school-days' foe. he remembered now that, when he was drowning, he had clung to jopp with frenzied arms and had endangered the bully's life also. the long torture of owing this debt to so mean a soul was on him still, was rooted in him; but suddenly, in the silent, searching night, some spirit whispered in his ear that this was the price which he must pay for his life saved to the world, a compromise with the inexorable thing. on the verge of oblivion and the end, he had been snatched back by relenting fate, which requires something for something given when laws are overriden and doom defeated. yes, the price he was meant to pay was gratitude to one of shrivelled soul and innate antipathy; and he had not been man enough to see the trial through to the end! with a little increased strain put upon his vanity and pride, he had run amuck. like some heathen gladiator, he had ravaged in the ring. he had gone down into the basements of human life and there made a cockpit for his animal rage, till, in the contest, brain and intellect had been saturated by the fumes and sweat of fleshly fury. how quiet the night was, how soothing to the fevered mind and body, how the cool air laved the heated head and flushed the lungs of the rheum of passion! he rode on and on, farther and farther away from home, his back upon the scenes where his daily deeds were done. it was long past midnight before he turned his horse's head again homeward. buried in his thoughts, now calm and determined, with a new life grown up in him, a new strength different from the mastering force which gave him a strength in the theatre like one in a delirium, he noticed nothing. he was only conscious of the omniscient night and its warm, penetrating friendliness; as, in a great trouble, when no words can be spoken, a cool, kind palm steals into the trembling hand of misery and stills it, gives it strength and life and an even pulse. he was now master in the house of his soul, and had no fear or doubt as to the future or as to his course. his first duty was to go to constantine jopp and speak his regret like a man. and after that it would be his duty to carry a double debt his life long for the life saved, for the wrong done. he owed an apology to la touche, and he was scarcely aware that the native gentlemanliness in him had said through his fever of passion over the footlights, "i beg your pardon." in his heart he felt that he had offered a mean affront to every person present, to the town where his interests lay, where his heart lay. where his heart lay--molly mackinder! he knew now that vanity had something to do, if not all to do, with his violent acts, and though there suddenly shot through his mind, as he rode back, a savage thrill at the remembrance of how he had handled the three, it was only a passing emotion. he was bent on putting himself right with jopp and with la touche. with the former his way was clear; he did not yet see his way as to la touche. how would he be able to make the _amende honorable_ to la touche? by-and-by he became somewhat less absorbed and enveloped by the comforting night. he saw the glimmer of red light afar, and vaguely wondered what it was. it was in the direction of o'ryan's ranch, but he thought nothing of it, because it burned steadily. it was probably a fire lighted by settlers trailing to the farther north. while the night wore on he rode as slowly back to the town as he had galloped from it like a centaur with a captive. again and again molly mackinder's face came before him, but he resolutely shut it out of his thoughts. he felt that he had no right to think of her until he had "done the right thing" by jopp and by la touche. yet the look in her face as the curtain came down, it was not that of one indifferent to him or to what he did. he neared the town half-way between midnight and morning. almost unconsciously avoiding the main streets, he rode a roundabout way toward the little house where constantine jopp lived. he could hear loud noises in the streets, singing, and hoarse shouts. then silence came, then shouts, and silence again. it was all quiet as he rode up to jopp's house, standing on the outskirts of the town. there was a bright light in the window of a room. jopp, then, was still up. he would not wait till to-morrow. he would do the right thing now. he would put things straight with his foe before he slept; he would do it at any sacrifice to his pride. he had conquered his pride. he dismounted, threw the bridle over a post, and, going into the garden, knocked gently at the door. there was no response. he knocked again, and listened intently. now he heard a sound--like a smothered cry or groan. he opened the door quickly and entered. it was dark. in another room beyond was a light. from it came the same sound he had heard before, but louder; also there was a shuffling footstep. springing forward to the half-open door, he pushed it wide, and met the terror-stricken eyes of constantine jopp--the same look that he had seen at the theatre when his hands were on jopp's throat, but more ghastly. jopp was bound to a chair by a lasso. both arms were fastened to the chair-arm, and beneath them, on the floor, were bowls into which blood dropped from his punctured wrists. he had hardly taken it all in--the work of an instant--when he saw crouched in a corner, madness in his eyes, his half-breed vigon. he grasped the situation in a flash. vigon had gone mad, had lain in wait in jopp's house, and, when the man he hated had seated himself in the chair, had lassoed him, bound him, and was slowly bleeding him to death. he had no time to think. before he could act vigon was upon him also, frenzy in his eyes, a knife clutched in his hand. reason had fled, and he only saw in o'ryan the frustrator of his revenge. he had watched the drip, drip from his victim's wrists with a dreadful joy. they were man and man, but o'ryan found in this grisly contest a vaster trial of strength than in the fight upon the stage a few hours ago. the first lunge that vigon made struck him on the tip of the shoulder and drew blood; but he caught the hand holding the knife in an iron grasp, while the half-breed, with superhuman strength, tried in vain for the long, brown throat of the man for whom he had struck oil. as they struggled and twisted, the eyes of the victim in the chair watched them with agonized emotions. for him it was life or death. he could not cry out--his mouth was gagged; but to o'ryan his groans were like a distant echo of his own hoarse gasps as he fought his desperate fight. terry was as one in an awful dream battling with vague, impersonal powers which slowly strangled his life, yet held him back in torture from the final surrender. for minutes they struggled. at last o'ryan's strength came to a point of breaking, for vigon was a powerful man, and to this was added a madman's energy. he felt that the end was coming. but all at once, through the groans of the victim in the chair, terry became conscious of noises outside--such noises as he had heard before he entered the house, only nearer and louder. at the same time he heard a horse's hoofs, then a knock at the door, and a voice calling, "jopp! jopp!" he made a last desperate struggle, and shouted hoarsely. an instant later there were footsteps in the room, followed by a cry of fright and amazement. it was gow johnson. he had come to warn constantine jopp that a crowd were come to tar and feather him, and to get him away on his own horse. now he sprang to the front door, called to the approaching crowd for help, then ran back to help o'ryan. a moment later a dozen men had vigon secure, and had released constantine jopp, now almost dead from loss of blood. as they took the gag from his mouth and tied their handkerchiefs round his bleeding wrists, jopp sobbed aloud. his eyes were fixed on terry o'ryan. terry met the look, and grasped the limp hand lying on the chair-arm. "i'm sorry, o'ryan, i'm sorry for all i've done to you," jopp sobbed. "i was a sneak, but i want to own it. i want to be square now. you can tar and feather me, if you like. i deserve it." he looked at the others. "i deserve it," he repeated. "that's what the boys had thought would be appropriate," said gow johnson, with a dry chuckle, and the crowd looked at one another and winked. the wink was kindly, however. "to own up and take your gruel!" was the easiest way to touch the men of the prairie. a half-hour later the roisterers, who had meant to carry constantine jopp on a rail, carried terry o'ryan on their shoulders through the town, against his will. as they passed the house where miss mackinder lived, some one shouted: "are you watching the rise of orion?" many a time thereafter terry o'ryan and molly mackinder looked at the galaxy in the evening sky with laughter and with pride. it had played its part with fate against constantine jopp and the little widow at jansen. it had never shone so brightly as on the night when vigon struck oil on o'ryan's ranch. but vigon had no memory of that. such is the irony of life. the error of the day the "error of the day" may be defined as the "the difference between the distance or range which must be put upon the sights in order to hit the target and the actual distance from the gun to the target."--_admiralty note._ a great naval gun never fires twice alike. it varies from day to day, and expert allowance has to be made in sighting every time it is fired. variations in atmosphere, condition of ammunition, and the wear of the gun are the contributory causes to the ever-varying "error of the day." "say, ain't he pretty?" "a jim-dandy--oh, my!" "what's his price in the open market?" "thirty millions--i think not." then was heard the voice of billy goat--his name was william goatry--- "out in the cold world, out in the street, nothing to wear and nothing to eat, fatherless, motherless, sadly i roam, child of misfortune, i'm driven from home." a loud laugh followed, for billy goat was a popular person at kowatin, in the saskatchewan country. he had an inimitable drollery, heightened by a cast in his eye, a very large mouth, and a round, good-humored face; also he had a hand and arm like iron, and was altogether a great man on a "spree." there had been a two days' spree at kowatin, for no other reason than that there had been great excitement over the capture and subsequent escape of a prairie-rover who had robbed the contractor's money-chest at the rail-head on the canadian pacific railroad. forty miles from kowatin he had been caught by, and escaped from, the tall, brown-eyed man with the hard-bitten face who leaned against the open window of the tavern, looking indifferently at the jeering crowd before him. for a police officer, he was not unpopular with them, but he had been a failure for once, and, as billy goat had said, "it tickled us to death to see a rider of the plains off his trolley--on the cold, cold ground, same as you and me." they did not undervalue him. if he had been less a man than he was, they would not have taken the trouble to cover him with their drunken ribaldry. he had scored off them in the past in just such sprees as this, when he had the power to do so, and used the power good-naturedly and quietly--but used it. then he was sergeant foyle, of the royal northwest mounted police, on duty in a district as large as the united kingdom. and he had no greater admirer than billy goat, who now reviled him. not without cause, in a way, for he had reviled himself to this extent that, when the prairie-rover, halbeck, escaped on the way to prince albert, after six months' hunt for him and a final capture in the kowatin district, foyle resigned the force before the commissioner could reproach him or call him to account. usually so exact, so certain of his target, some care had not been taken, he had miscalculated, and there had been the error of the day. whatever it was, it had seemed to him fatal; and he had turned his face from the barrack-yard. then he had made his way to the happy land hotel at kowatin, to begin life as "a free and independent gent on the loose," as billy goat had said. to resign had seemed extreme; because, though the commissioner was vexed at halbeck's escape, foyle was the best non-commissioned officer in the force. he had frightened horse-thieves and bogus land-agents and speculators out of the country; had fearlessly tracked down a criminal or a band of criminals when the odds were heavy against him. he carried on his cheek the scars of two bullets, and there was one white lock in his brown hair where an arrow had torn the scalp away as, alone, he drove into the post a score of indians, fresh from raiding the cattle of an immigrant trailing north. now he was out of work, or so it seemed; he had stepped down from his scarlet-coated dignity, from the place of guardian and guide to civilization, into the idleness of a tavern stoop. as the little group swayed round him, and billy goat started another song, foyle roused himself as though to move away--he was waiting for the mail-stage to take him south- "oh, father, dear father, come home with me now, the clock in the steeple strikes one; you said you were coming right home from the shop as soon as your day's work was done. come home--come home--" the song arrested him, and he leaned back against the window again. a curious look came into his eyes, a look that had nothing to do with the acts of the people before him. it was searching into a scene beyond this bright sunlight and the far green-brown grass, and the little oasis of trees in the distance marking a homestead, and the dust of the wagon-wheels out on the trail beyond the grain-elevator--beyond the blue horizon's rim, quivering in the heat, and into regions where this crisp, clear, life-giving, life-saving air never blew. "you said you were coming right home from the shop as soon as your day's work was done. come home--come home--" he remembered when he had first heard this song in a play called _ten nights in a bar-room_, many years before, and how it had wrenched his heart and soul, and covered him with a sudden cloud of shame and anger. for his father had been a drunkard, and his brother had grown up a drunkard, that brother whom he had not seen for ten years until--until-he shuddered, closed his eyes, as though to shut out something that the mind saw. he had had a rough life, he had become inured to the seamy side of things--there was a seamy side even in this clean, free, wide land; and he had no sentimentality; though something seemed to hurt and shame him now. "as soon as your day's work was done. come home--come home--" the crowd was uproarious. the exhilaration had become a kind of delirium. men were losing their heads; there was an element of irresponsibility in the new outbreak likely to breed some violent act, which every man of them would lament when sober again. nettlewood foyle watched the dust rising from the wheels of the stage, which had passed the elevator and was nearing the prairie home hotel, far down the street. he would soon leave behind him this noisy ribaldry of which he was the centre. he tossed his cheroot away. suddenly he heard a low voice behind him. "why don't you hit out, sergeant?" it said. he started almost violently, and turned round. then his face flushed, his eyes blurred with feeling and deep surprise, and his lips parted in a whispered exclamation and greeting. a girl's face from the shade of the sitting-room was looking out at him, half smiling, but with heightened color and a suppressed agitation. the girl was not more than twenty-five, graceful, supple, and strong. her chin was dimpled; across her right temple was a slight scar. she had eyes of a wonderful deep blue; they seemed to swim with light. as foyle gazed at her for a moment dumfounded, with a quizzical suggestion and smiling still a little more, she said: "you used to be a little quicker, nett." the voice appeared to attempt unconcern; but it quivered from a force of feeling underneath. it was so long since she had seen him. he was about to reply, but, at the instant, a reveller pushed him with a foot behind the knees so that they were sprung forward. the crowd laughed--all save billy goat, who knew his man. like lightning, and with cold fury in his eyes, foyle caught the tall cattleman by the forearm, and, with a swift, dexterous twist, had the fellow in his power. "down--down to your knees, you skunk!" he said, in a low, fierce voice. the knees of the big man bent--foyle had not taken lessons of ogami, the jap, for nothing--they bent, and the cattleman squealed, so intense was the pain. it was break or bend; and he bent--to the ground and lay there. foyle stood over him for a moment, a hard light in his eyes, and then, as if bethinking himself, he looked at the other roisterers and said: "there's a limit, and he reached it. your mouths are your own, and you can blow off to suit your fancy, but if any one thinks i'm a tame coyote to be poked with a stick--!" he broke off, stooped over, and helped the man before him to his feet. the arm had been strained, and the big fellow nursed it. "hell, but you're a twister!" the cattleman said, with a grimace of pain. billy goat was a gentleman, after his kind, and he liked sergeant foyle with a great liking. he turned to the crowd and spoke. "say, boys, this mine's worked out. let's leave the happy land to foyle. boys, what is he--what--is--he? what--is--sergeant foyle--boys?" the roar of the song they all knew came in reply, as billy goat waved his arms about like the wild leader of a wild orchestra: "sergeant foyle, oh, he's a knocker from the west, he's a chase-me-charley, come-and-kiss-me tiger from the zoo; he's a dandy on the pinch, and he's got a double cinch on the gent that's going careless, and he'll soon cinch you: and he'll soon--and he'll soon--cinch you!" foyle watched them go, dancing, stumbling, calling back at him, as they moved toward the prairie home hotel: "and he'll soon--and he'll soon--cinch you!" his under-lip came out, his eyes half closed, as he watched them. "i've done my last cinch. i've done my last cinch," he murmured. then, suddenly, the look in his face changed, the eyes swam as they had done a minute before at the sight of the girl in the room behind. whatever his trouble was, that face had obscured it in a flash, and the pools of feeling far down in the depths of a lonely nature had been stirred. recognition, memory, tenderness, desire swam in his face, made generous and kind the hard lines of the strong mouth. in an instant he had swung himself over the window-sill. the girl had drawn away now into a more shaded corner of the room, and she regarded him with a mingled anxiety and eagerness. was she afraid of something? did she fear that--she knew not quite what, but it had to do with a long ago? "it was time you hit out, nett," she said, half shyly. "you're more patient than you used to be, but you're surer. my, that was a twist you gave him, nett. aren't you glad to see me?" she added, hastily and with an effort to hide her agitation. he reached out and took her hand with a strange shyness and a self-consciousness which was alien to his nature. the touch of her hand thrilled him. their eyes met. she dropped hers. then he gathered himself together. "glad to see you? of course, of course, i'm glad. you stunned me, jo. why, do you know where you are? you're a thousand miles from home. i can't get it through my head, not really. what brings you here? it's ten years--ten years since i saw you, and you were only fifteen, but a fifteen that was as good as twenty." he scanned her face closely. "what's that scar on your forehead, jo? you hadn't that--then." "i ran up against something," she said, evasively, her eyes glittering, "and it left that scar. does it look so bad?" "no, you'd never notice it, if you weren't looking close as i am. you see, i knew your face so well ten years ago." he shook his head with a forced kind of smile. it became him, however, for he smiled rarely; and the smile was like a lantern turned on his face; it gave light and warmth to its quiet strength--or hardness. "you were always quizzing," she said, with an attempt at a laugh--"always trying to find things out. that's why you made them reckon with you out here. you always could see behind things; always would have your own way; always were meant to be a success." she was beginning to get control of herself again, was trying hard to keep things on the surface. "you were meant to succeed--you had to," she added. "i've been a failure--a dead failure," he answered, slowly. "so they say. so they said. you heard them, jo." he jerked his head toward the open window. "oh, those drunken fools!" she exclaimed, indignantly, and her face hardened. "how i hate drink! it spoils everything." there was silence for a moment. they were both thinking of the same thing--_of the same man_. he repeated a question. "what brings you out here, jo?" he asked, gently. "dorland," she answered, her face setting into determination and anxiety. his face became pinched. "dorl!" he said, heavily. "what for, jo? what do you want with dorl?" "when cynthy died she left her five hundred dollars a year to the baby, and--" "yes, yes, i know. well, jo?" "well, it was all right for five years--dorland paid it in; but for five years he hasn't paid anything. he's taken it, stolen it from his own child by his own honest wife. i've come to get it--anyway, to stop him from doing it any more. his own child--it puts murder in my heart, nett! i could kill him." he nodded grimly. "that's likely. and you've kept dorl's child with your own money all these years?" "i've got four hundred dollars a year, nett, you know; and i've been dressmaking--they say i've got taste," she added, with a whimsical smile. nett nodded his head. "five years. that's twenty-five hundred dollars he's stolen from his own child. it's eight years old now, isn't it?" "bobby is eight and a half," she answered. "and his schooling, and his clothing, and everything; and you have to pay for it all?" "oh, i don't mind, nett; it isn't that. bobby is cynthy's child, and i love him--love him; but i want him to have his rights. dorl must give up his hold on that money--or--" he nodded gravely. "or you'll set the law on him?" "it's one thing or the other. better to do it now when bobby is young and can't understand." "or read the newspapers," he commented, thoughtfully. "i don't think i've a hard heart," she continued, "but i'd like to punish him, if it wasn't that he's your brother, nett, and if it wasn't for bobby. dorland was dreadfully cruel, even to cynthy." "how did you know he was up here?" he asked. "from the lawyer that pays over the money. dorland has had it sent out here to kowatin this two years. and he sent word to the lawyer a month ago that he wanted it to get here as usual. the letter left the same day as i did, and it got here yesterday with me, i suppose. he'll be after it--perhaps to-day. he wouldn't let it wait long, dorl wouldn't." foyle started. "to-day--to-day--" there was a gleam in his eyes, a setting of the lips, a line sinking into the forehead between the eyes. "i've been watching for him all day, and i'll watch till he comes. i'm going to say some things to him that he won't forget. i'm going to get bobby's money, or have the law to do it--unless you think i'm a brute, nett." she looked at him wistfully. "that's all right. don't worry about me, jo. he's my brother, but i know him--i know him through and through. he's done everything that a man can do and not be hanged. a thief, a drunkard, and a brute--and he killed a man out here," he added, hoarsely. "i found it out myself--myself. it was murder." suddenly, as he looked at her, an idea seemed to flash into his mind. he came very near and looked at her closely. then he reached over and almost touched the scar on her forehead. "did he do that, jo?" for an instant she was silent and looked down at the floor. presently she raised her eyes, her face suffused. once or twice she tried to speak, but failed. at last she gained courage, and said: "after cynthy's death i kept house for him for a year, taking care of little bobby. i loved bobby so--he has cynthy's eyes. one day dorland--oh, nett, of course i oughtn't to have stayed there--i know it now; but i was only sixteen, and what did i understand! and my mother was dead. one day--oh, please, nett, you can guess. he said something to me. i made him leave the house. before i could make plans what to do, he came back mad with drink. i went for bobby, to get out of the house, but he caught hold of me. i struck him in the face, and he threw me against the edge of the open door. it made the scar." foyle's face was white. "why did you never write and tell me that, jo? you know that i--" he stopped suddenly. "you had gone out of our lives down there. i didn't know where you were for a long time; and then--then it was all right about bobby and me, except that bobby didn't get the money that was his. but now--" foyle's voice was hoarse and low. "he made that scar, and he--and you only sixteen--oh, my god!" suddenly his face reddened, and he choked with shame and anger. "and he's my brother!" was all that he could say. "do you see him up here ever?" she asked, pityingly. "i never saw him till a week ago." a moment, then he added, "the letter wasn't to be sent here in his own name, was it?" she nodded. "yes, in his own name, dorland w. foyle. didn't he go by that name when you saw him?" there was an oppressive silence, in which she saw that something moved him strangely, and then he answered, "no, he was going by the name of halbeck--hiram halbeck." the girl gasped. then the whole thing burst upon her. "hiram halbeck! hiram halbeck, the thief--i read it all in the papers--the thief that you caught, and that got away. and you've left the mounted police because of it--oh, nett!" her eyes were full of tears, her face was drawn and gray. he nodded. "i didn't know who he was till i arrested him," he said. "then, afterward, i thought of his child, and let him get away; and for my poor old mother's sake. she never knew how bad he was, even as a boy. but i remember how he used to steal and drink the brandy from her bedside, when she had the fever. she never knew the worst of him. but i let him away in the night, jo, and i resigned, and they thought that halbeck had beaten me, had escaped. of course i couldn't stay in the force, having done that. but, by the heaven above us, if i had him here now i'd do the thing--do it, so help me god!" "why should you ruin your life for him?" she said, with an outburst of indignation. all that was in her heart welled up in her eyes at the thought of what foyle was. "you must not do it. you shall not do it. _he_ must pay for his wickedness, not you. it would be a sin. you and what becomes of you mean so much." suddenly, with a flash of purpose, she added, "he will come for that letter, nett. he would run any kind of risk to get a dollar. he will come here for that letter--perhaps to-day." he shook his head moodily, oppressed by the trouble that was on him. "he's not likely to venture here, after what's happened." "you don't know him as well as i do, nett. he is so vain he'd do it, just to show that he could. he'd probably come in the evening. does any one know him here? so many people pass through kowatin every day. has any one seen him?" "only billy goatry," he answered, working his way to a solution of the dark problem. "only billy goatry knows him. the fellow that led the singing--that was goatry." "there he is now," he added, as billy goat passed the window. she came and laid a hand on his arm. "we've got to settle things with him," she said. "if dorl comes, nett--" there was silence for a moment, then he caught her hand in his and held it. "if he comes, leave him to me, jo. you will leave him to me?" he added, anxiously. "yes," she answered. "you'll do what's right--by bobby?" "and by dorl, too," he replied, strangely. there were loud footsteps without. "it's goatry," said foyle. "you stay here. i'll tell him everything. he's all right; he's a true friend. he'll not interfere." the handle of the door turned slowly. "you keep watch on the post-office, jo," he added. goatry came round the opening door with a grin. "hope i don't intrude," he said, stealing a half-leering look at the girl. as soon as he saw her face, however, he straightened himself up and took on different manners. he had not been so intoxicated as he had made out, and he seemed only "mellow" as he stood before them, with his corrugated face and queer, quaint look, the eye with the cast in it blinking faster than the other. "it's all right, goatry," said foyle. "this lady is one of my family from the east." "goin' on by stage?" goatry said, vaguely, as they shook hands. she did not reply, for she was looking down the street, and presently she started as she gazed. she laid a hand suddenly on foyle's arm. "see--he's come," she said, in a whisper, and as though not realizing goatry's presence. "he's come." goatry looked, as well as foyle. "halbeck--the devil!" he said. foyle turned to him. "stand by, goatry. i want you to keep a shut mouth. i've work to do." goatry held out his hand. "i'm with you. if you get him this time, clamp him, clamp him like a tooth in a harrow." halbeck had stopped his horse at the post-office door. dismounting, he looked quickly round, then drew the reins over the horse's head, letting them trail, as is the custom of the west. a few swift words passed between goatry and foyle. "i'll do this myself, jo," he whispered to the girl presently. "go into another room. i'll bring him here." * * * * * in another minute goatry was leading the horse away from the post-office, while foyle stood waiting quietly at the door. the departing footsteps of the horse brought halbeck swiftly to the doorway, with a letter in his hand. "hi, there, you damned sucker!" he called after goatry, and then saw foyle waiting. "what the hell--!" he said, fiercely, his hand on something in his hip-pocket. "keep quiet, dorl. i want to have a little talk with you. take your hand away from that gun--take it away!" he added, with a meaning not to be misunderstood. halbeck knew that one shout would have the town on him, and he did not know what card his brother was going to play. he let his arm drop to his side. "what's your game? what do you want?" he asked, surlily. "come over to the happy land hotel," foyle answered, and in the light of what was in his mind his words had a grim irony. with a snarl halbeck stepped out. goatry, who had handed the horse over to the hostler, watched them coming. "why did i never notice the likeness before?" goatry said to himself. "but, gosh! what a difference in the men. foyle's going to double cinch him this time, i guess." he followed them inside the hall of the happy land. when they stepped into the sitting-room, he stood at the door waiting. the hotel was entirely empty, the roisterers at the prairie home having drawn off the idlers and spectators. the barman was nodding behind the bar, the proprietor was moving about in the backyard inspecting a horse. there was a cheerful warmth everywhere; the air was like an elixir; the pungent smell of a pine-tree at the door gave a kind of medicament to the indrawn breath. and to billy goat, who sometimes sang in the choir of a church not a hundred miles away--for the people agreed to forget his occasional sprees--there came, he knew not why, the words of a hymn he had sung only the preceding sunday: "as pants the hart for cooling streams, when heated in the chase--" the words kept ringing in his ears as he listened to the conversation inside the room--the partition was thin, the door thinner, and he heard much. foyle had asked him not to intervene, but only to stand by and await the issue of this final conference. he meant, however, to take a hand in if he thought he was needed, and he kept his ear glued to the door. if he thought foyle needed him--his fingers were on the handle of the door. "now, hurry up! what do you want with me?" asked halbeck of his brother. "take your time," said ex-sergeant foyle, as he drew the blind three-quarters down, so that they could not be seen from the street. "i'm in a hurry, i tell you. i've got my plans. i'm going south. i've only just time to catch the canadian pacific three days from now, riding hard." "you're not going south, dorl." "where am i going, then?" was the sneering reply. "not farther than the happy land." "what the devil's all this? you don't mean you're trying to arrest me again, after letting me go?" "you don't need to ask. you're my prisoner. you're my prisoner," he said, in a louder voice--"_until you free yourself_." "i'll do that damn quick, then," said the other, his hand flying to his hip. "sit down," was the sharp rejoinder, and a pistol was in his face before he could draw his own weapon. "put your gun on the table," foyle said, quietly. halbeck did so. there was no other way. foyle drew it over to himself. his brother made a motion to rise. "sit still, dorl," came the warning voice. white with rage, the freebooter sat still, his dissipated face and heavy angry lips, looking like a debauched and villanous caricature of his brother before him. "yes, i suppose you'd have potted me, dorl," said the ex-sergeant. "you'd have thought no more of doing that than you did of killing linley, the ranchman; than you did of trying to ruin jo byndon, your wife's sister, when she was sixteen years old, when she was caring for your child--giving her life for the child you brought into the world." "what in the name of hell--it's a lie!" "don't bluster. i know the truth." "who told you--the truth?" "she did--to-day--an hour ago." "she here--out here?" there was a new, cowed note in the voice. "she is in the next room." "what did she come here for?" "to make you do right by your own child. i wonder what a jury of decent men would think about a man who robbed his child for five years, and let that child be fed and clothed and cared for by the girl he tried to destroy, the girl he taught what sin there was in the world." "she put you up to this. she was always in love with you, and you know it." there was a dangerous look in foyle's eyes, and his jaw set hard. "there would be no shame in a decent woman caring for me, even if it was true. i haven't put myself outside the boundary as you have. you're my brother, but you're the worst scoundrel in the country--the worst unhanged. put on the table there the letter in your pocket. it holds five hundred dollars belonging to your child. there's twenty-five hundred dollars more to be accounted for." the other hesitated, then with an oath threw the letter on the table. "i'll pay the rest as soon as i can, if you'll stop this damned tomfoolery," he said, sullenly, for he saw that he was in a hole. "you'll pay it, i suppose, out of what you stole from the c. p. r. contractor's chest. no, i don't think that will do." "you want me to go to prison, then?" "i think not. the truth would come out at the trial--the whole truth--the murder and all. there's your child, bobby. you've done him enough wrong already. do you want him--but it doesn't matter whether you do or not--do you want him to carry through life the fact that his father was a jail-bird and a murderer, just as jo byndon carries the scar you made when you threw her against the door?" "what do you want with me, then?" the man sank slowly and heavily back into the chair. "there is a way--have you never thought of it? when you threatened others as you did me, and life seemed such a little thing in others--can't you think?" bewildered, the man looked around helplessly. in the silence which followed foyle's words his brain was struggling to see a way out. foyle's further words seemed to come from a great distance. "it's not too late to do the decent thing. you'll never repent of all you've done; you'll never do different." the old, reckless, irresponsible spirit revived in the man; he had both courage and bravado; he was not hopeless yet of finding an escape from the net. he would not beg, he would struggle. "i've lived as i meant to, and i'm not going to snivel or repent now. it's all a rotten business, anyhow," he rejoined. with a sudden resolution the ex-sergeant put his own pistol in his pocket, then pushed halbeck's pistol over toward him on the table. halbeck's eyes lighted eagerly, grew red with excitement, then a change passed over them. they now settled on the pistol, and stayed. he heard foyle's voice. "it's with you to do what you ought to do. of course you can kill me. my pistol's in my pocket. but i don't think you will. you've murdered one man. you won't load your soul up with another. besides, if you kill me, you will never get away from kowatin alive. but it's with you--take your choice. it's me or you." halbeck's fingers crept out and found the pistol. "do your duty, dorl," said the ex-sergeant, as he turned his back on his brother. the door of the room opened, and goatry stepped inside softly. he had work to do, if need be, and his face showed it. halbeck did not see him. there was a demon in halbeck's eyes, as his brother stood, his back turned, taking his chances. a large mirror hung on the wall opposite halbeck. goatry was watching halbeck's face in the glass, and saw the danger. he measured his distance. all at once halbeck caught goatry's face in the mirror. the dark devilry faded out of his eyes. his lips moved in a whispered oath. every way was blocked. with a sudden wild resolution he raised the pistol to his head. it cracked, and he fell back heavily in the chair. there was a red trickle at the temple. he had chosen the best way out. "he had the pluck," said goatry, as foyle swung round with a face of misery. a moment afterward came a rush of people. goatry kept them back. "sergeant foyle arrested halbeck, and halbeck's shot himself," goatry explained to them. a white-faced girl with a scar on her temple made her way into the room. [illustration: "if you kill me, you will never get away from kowatin alive"] "come away--come away, jo," said the voice of the man she loved; and he did not let her see the lifeless figure in the chair. * * * * * three days later the plains swallowed them, as they made their way with billy goatry to the headquarters of the riders of the plains, where sergeant foyle was asked to reconsider his resignation: which he did. the whisperer "and thou shalt be brought down and shalt speak out of the ground, and thy speech shall be low out of the dust, and thy voice shall be as of one that hath a familiar spirit out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the dust." the harvest was all in, and, as far as eye could observe, nothing remained of the golden sea of wheat which had covered the wide prairie save the yellow stubble, the bed of an ocean of wealth which had been gathered. here the yellow level was broken by a dark patch of fallow land, there by a covert of trees also tinged with yellow, or deepening to crimson and mauve--the harbinger of autumn. the sun had not the insistent and intensive strength of more southerly climes; it was buoyant, confident, and heartening, and it shone in a turquoise vault which covered and endeared the wide, even world beneath. now and then a flock of wild ducks whirred past, making for the marshes or the innumerable lakes that vitalized the expanse, or buzzards hunched heavily along, frightened from some far resort by eager sportsmen. that was above; but beneath, on a level with the unlifted eye, were houses here and there, looking in the vastness like dolls' habitations. many of the houses stood blank and staring in the expanse, but some had trees, and others little oases of green. everywhere prosperity, everywhere the strings of life pulled taut, signs that energy had been straining on the leash. yet there was one spot where it seemed that deadness made encampment. it could not be seen in the sweep of the eye, you must have travelled and looked vigilantly to find it; but it was there--a lake shimmering in the eager sun, washing against a reedy shore, a little river running into the reedy lake at one end and out at the other, a small, dilapidated house half hid in a wood that stretched for half a mile or so upon a rising ground. in front of the house, not far from the lake, a man was lying asleep upon the ground, a rough felt hat drawn over his eyes. like the house, the man seemed dilapidated also: a slovenly, ill-dressed, demoralized figure he looked, even with his face covered. he seemed in a deep sleep. wild ducks settled on the lake not far from him with a swish and flutter; a coyote ran past, veering as it saw the recumbent figure; a prairie hen rustled by with a shrill cluck, but he seemed oblivious to all. if asleep, he was evidently dreaming, for now and then he started, or his body twitched and a muttering came from beneath the hat. the battered house, the absence of barn or stable or garden, or any token of thrift or energy, marked the man as an excrescence in this theatre of hope and fruitful toil. it all belonged to some degenerate land, some exhausted civilization, not to this field of vigor where life rang like silver. so the man lay for hour upon hour. he slept as though he had been upon a long journey in which the body was worn to helplessness. or was it that sleep of the worn-out spirit which, tortured by remembrance and remorse, at last sinks into the depths where the conscious vexes the unconscious--a little of fire, a little of ice, and now and then the turn of the screw? the day marched nobly on toward evening, growing out of its blue and silver into a pervasive golden gleam; the bare, grayish houses on the prairie were transformed into miniature palaces of light. presently a girl came out of the woods behind, looking at the neglected house with a half-pitying curiosity. she carried in one hand a fishing-rod which had been telescoped till it was no bigger than a cane; in the other she carried a small fishing-basket. her father's shooting and fishing camp was a few miles away by a lake of greater size than this which she approached. she had tired of the gay company in camp, brought up for sport from beyond the american border where she also belonged, and she had come to explore the river running into this reedy lake. she turned from the house and came nearer to the lake, shaking her head, as though compassionating the poor folk who lived there. she was beautiful. her hair was brown, going to tawny, but in this soft light which enwrapped her she was in a sort of topaz flame. as she came on, suddenly she stopped as though transfixed. she saw the man--and saw also a tragedy afoot. the man stirred violently in his sleep, cried out, and started up. as he did so, a snake, disturbed in its travel past him, suddenly raised itself in anger. startled out of sleep by some inner torture, the man heard the sinister rattle he knew so well, and gazed paralyzed. the girl had been but a few feet away when she first saw the man and his angry foe. an instant, then, with the instinct of the woods and the plains, and the courage that has habitation everywhere, dropping her basket she sprang forward noiselessly. the short, telescoped fishing-rod she carried swung round her head and completed its next half-circle at the head of the reptile, even as it was about to strike. the blow was sure, and with half-severed head the snake fell dead upon the ground beside the man. he was like one who has been projected from one world to another, dazed, stricken, fearful. presently the look of agonized dismay gave way to such an expression of relief as might come upon the face of a reprieved victim about to be given to the fire or to the knife that flays. the place of dreams from which he had emerged was like hell, and this was some world of peace that he had not known these many years. always one had been at his elbow--"a familiar spirit out of the ground"--whispering in his ear. he had been down in the abysses of life. he glanced again at the girl, and realized what she had done: she had saved his life. whether it had been worth saving was another question; but he had been near to the brink, had looked in, and the animal in him had shrunk back from the precipice in a confused agony of fear. he staggered to his feet. "where do you come from?" he said, pulling his coat closer to hide the ragged waistcoat underneath, and adjusting his worn and dirty hat--in his youth he had been vain and ambitious, and good-looking also. he asked his question in no impertinent tone, but in the low voice of one who "shall whisper out of the dust." he had not yet recovered from the first impression of his awakening, that the world in which he now stood was not a real world. she understood, and half in pity and half in conquered repugnance said: "i come from a camp beyond"--she indicated the direction by a gesture. "i had been fishing"--she took up the basket--"and chanced on you--then." she glanced at the snake significantly. "you killed it in the nick of time," he said, in a voice that still spoke of the ground, but with a note of half-shamed gratitude. "i want to thank you," he added. "you were brave. it would have turned on you if you had missed. i know them. i've killed five." he spoke very slowly, huskily. "well, you are safe--that is the chief thing," she rejoined, making as though to depart. but presently she turned back. "why are you so dreadfully poor--and everything?" she asked, gently. his eye wandered over the lake and back again before he answered her, in a dull, heavy tone, "i've had bad luck, and, when you get down, there are plenty to kick you farther." "you weren't always poor as you are now--i mean long ago, when you were young." "i'm not so old," he rejoined, sluggishly--"only thirty-four." she could not suppress her astonishment. she looked at the hair already gray, the hard, pinched face, the lustreless eyes. "yet it must seem long to you," she said, with meaning. now he laughed--a laugh sodden and mirthless. he was thinking of his boyhood. everything, save one or two spots all fire or all darkness, was dim in his debilitated mind. "too far to go back," he said, with a gleam of the intelligence which had been strong in him once. she caught the gleam. she had wisdom beyond her years. it was the greater because her mother was dead, and she had had so much wealth to dispense, for her father was rich beyond counting, and she controlled his household and helped to regulate his charities. she saw that he was not of the laboring classes, that he had known better days; his speech, if abrupt and cheerless, was grammatical. "if you cannot go back, you can go forward," she said, firmly. "why should you be the only man in this beautiful land who lives like this, who is idle when there is so much to do, who sleeps in the daytime when there is so much time to sleep at night?" a faint flush came on the grayish, colorless face. "i don't sleep at night," he returned, moodily. "why don't you sleep?" she asked. he did not answer, but stirred the body of the snake with his foot. the tail moved; he stamped upon the head with almost frenzied violence, out of keeping with his sluggishness. she turned away, yet looked back once more--she felt tragedy around her. "it is never too late to mend," she said, and moved on, but stopped, for a young man came running from the woods toward her. "i've had a hunt--such a hunt for you!" the young man said, eagerly, then stopped short when he saw to whom she had been talking. a look of disgust came upon his face as he drew her away, his hand on her arm. "in heaven's name, why did you talk to that man?" he said. "you ought not to have trusted yourself near him." "what has he done?" she asked. "is he so bad?" "i've heard about him. i inquired the other day. he was once in a better position as a ranchman--ten years ago; but he came into some money one day, and he changed at once. he never had a good character; even before he got his money he used to gamble, and was getting a bad name. afterward he began drinking, and he took to gambling harder than ever. presently his money all went and he had to work; but his bad habits had fastened on him, and now he lives from hand to mouth, sometimes working for a month, sometimes idle for months. there's something sinister about him, there's some mystery; for poverty, or drink even--and he doesn't drink much now--couldn't make him what he is. he doesn't seek company, and he walks sometimes endless miles talking to himself, going as hard as he can. how did you come to speak to him, grace?" she told him all, with a curious abstraction in her voice, for she was thinking of the man from a standpoint which her companion could not realize. she was also trying to verify something in her memory. ten years ago, so her lover had just said, the poor wretch behind them had been a different man; and there had shot into her mind the face of a ranchman she had seen with her father, the railway king, one evening when his "special" had stopped at a railway station on his tour through montana--ten years ago. why did the face of the ranchman which had fixed itself on her memory then, because he had come on the evening of her birthday and had spoiled it for her, having taken her father away from her for an hour--why did his face come to her now? what had it to do with the face of this outcast she had just left? "what is his name?" she asked at last. "roger lygon," he answered. "roger lygon," she repeated, mechanically. something in the man chained her thought--his face that moment when her hand saved him and the awful fear left him and a glimmer of light came into his eyes. but her lover beside her broke into song. he was happy with her. everything was before him, her beauty, her wealth, herself. he could not dwell upon dismal things; his voice rang out on the sharp, sweet, evening air: "oh, where did you get them, the bonny, bonny roses that blossom in your cheeks, and the morning in your eyes?' 'i got them on the north trail, the road that never closes, that widens to the seven gold gates of paradise.' 'oh, come, let us camp in the north trail together, with the night-fires lit and the tent-pegs down.'" left alone, the man by the reedy lake stood watching them until they were out of view. the song came back to him, echoing across the waters: "'oh, come, let us camp on the north trail together, with the night-fires lit and the tent-pegs down.'" the sunset glow, the girl's presence, had given him a moment's illusion, had absorbed him for a moment, acting on his deadened nature like a narcotic at once soothing and stimulating. as some wild animal in a forgotten land, coming upon ruins of a vast civilization, towers, temples and palaces, in the golden glow of an eastern evening, stands abashed and vaguely wondering, having neither reason to understand nor feeling to enjoy, yet is arrested and abashed, so he stood. he had lived the last three years so much alone, had been cut off so completely from his kind--had lived so much alone. yet to-night, at last, he would not be alone. some one was coming to-night, some one whom he had not seen for a long time. letters had passed, the object of the visit had been defined, and he had spent the intervening days since the last letter had arrived, now agitated, now apathetic and sullen, now struggling with some invisible being that kept whispering in his ear, saying to him: "it was the price of fire and blood and shame. you did it--you--you--you! you are down, and you will never get up. you can only go lower still--fire and blood and shame!" criminal as he was, he had never become hardened, he had only become degraded. crime was not his vocation. he had no gift for it; still, the crime he had committed had never been discovered--the crime that he did with others. there were himself and dupont and another. dupont was coming to-night--dupont, who had profited by the crime, and had not spent his profits, but had built upon them to further profit; for dupont was avaricious and prudent, and a born criminal. dupont had never had any compunctions or remorse, had never lost a night's sleep because of what they two had done, instigated thereto by the other, who had paid them so well for the dark thing. the other was henderley, the financier. he was worse perhaps than dupont, for he was in a different sphere of life, was rich beyond counting, and had been early nurtured in quiet christian surroundings. the spirit of ambition, rivalry, and the methods of a degenerate and cruel finance had seized him, mastered him; so that, under the cloak of power--as a toreador hides the blade under the red cloth before his enemy the _toro_--he held a sword of capital which did cruel and vicious things, at last becoming criminal also. henderley had incited and paid; the others, dupont and lygon, had acted and received. henderley had had no remorse, none at any rate that weighed upon him, for he had got used to ruining rivals and seeing strong men go down, and those who had fought him come to beg or borrow of him in the end. he had seen more than one commit suicide, and those they loved go down and farther down, and he had helped these up a little, but not near enough to put them near his own plane again; and he could not see--it never occurred to him--that he had done any evil to them. dupont thought upon his crimes now and then, and his heart hardened, for he had no moral feeling; henderley did not think at all. it was left to the man of the reedy lake to pay the penalty of apprehension, to suffer the effects of crime upon a nature not naturally criminal. again and again, how many hundreds of times, had roger lygon seen in his sleep--had even seen awake, so did hallucination possess him--the new cattle trail he had fired for scores of miles. the fire had destroyed the grass over millions of acres, two houses had been burned and three people had lost their lives; all to satisfy the savage desire of one man, to destroy the chance of a cattle trade over a great section of country for the railway which was to compete with his own--an act which, in the end, was futile, failed of its purpose. dupont and lygon had been paid their price, and had disappeared and been forgotten--they were but pawns in his game--and there was no proof against henderley. henderley had forgotten. lygon wished to forget, but dupont remembered, and meant now to reap fresh profit by the remembrance. dupont was coming to-night, and the hatchet of crime was to be dug up again. so it had been planned. as the shadows fell, lygon roused himself from his trance with a shiver. it was not cold, but in him there was a nervous agitation, making him cold from head to foot; his body seemed as impoverished as his mind. looking with heavy-lidded eyes across the prairie, he saw in the distance the barracks of the riders of the plains and the jail near by, and his shuddering ceased. there was where he belonged, within four stone walls; yet here he was free to go where he willed, to live as he willed, with no eye upon him. with no eye upon him? there was no eye, but there was the whisperer whom he could never drive away. morning and night he heard the words: "you--you--you! fire and blood and shame!" he had snatched sleep when he could find it, after long, long hours of tramping over the plains, ostensibly to shoot wild fowl, but in truth to bring on a great bodily fatigue--and sleep. his sleep only came then in the first watches of the night. as the night wore on the whisperer began again, as the cloud of weariness lifted a little from him and the senses were released from the heavy sedative of unnatural exertion. the dusk deepened. the moon slowly rose. he cooked his scanty meal and took a deep draught from a horn of whiskey from beneath a board in the flooring. he had not the courage to face dupont without it, nor yet to forget what he must forget if he was to do the work dupont came to arrange--he must forget the girl who had saved his life and the influence of those strange moments in which she had spoken down to him, in the abyss where he had been lying. he sat in the doorway, a fire gleaming behind him; he drank in the good air as though his lungs were thirsty for it, and saw the silver glitter of the moon upon the water. not a breath of wind stirred, and the shining path the moon made upon the reedy lake fascinated his eye. everything was so still except that whisper, louder in his ear than it had ever been before. suddenly, upon the silver path upon the lake there shot a silent canoe, with a figure as silently paddling toward him. he gazed for a moment dismayed, and then got to his feet with a jerk. "dupont," he said, mechanically. the canoe swished among the reeds and rushes, scraped on the shore, and a tall, burly figure sprang from it and stood still, looking at the house. "_qui reste lã _--lygon?" he asked. "dupont," was the nervous, hesitating reply. dupont came forward quickly. "_ah_, _ben_, here we are again--so," he grunted, cheerily. entering the house, they sat before the fire, holding their hands to the warmth from force of habit, though the night was not cold. "_ben_, you will do it to-night--then?" dupont said. "_sacrã©_, it is time!" "do what?" rejoined the other, heavily. an angry light leaped into dupont's eyes. "you not unnerstan' my letters--bah! you know it all right, so queeck." the other remained silent, staring into the fire with wide, searching eyes. dupont put a hand on him. "you ketch my idee queeck. we mus' have more money from that henderley--certainlee. it is ten years, and he t'ink it is all right. he t'ink we come no more becos' he give five t'ousand dollars to us each. that was to do the t'ing, to fire the country. now we want another ten t'ousan' to us each, to forget we do it for him--_hein_?" still there was no reply. dupont went on, watching the other furtively, for he did not like this silence. but he would not resent it till he was sure there was good cause. "it comes to suit us. he is over there at the old man lak', where you can get at him easy, not like in the city where he lif'. over in the states, he laugh mebbe, becos' he is at home, an' can buy off the law. but here--it is canadaw, an' they not care eef he have hunder' meellion dollar. he know that--sure. eef you say you not care a dam to go to jail, so you can put him there, too, becos' you have not'ing, an' so dam seeck of everyt'ing, he will t'ink ten t'ousan' dollar same as one cent to nic dupont--_ben sã»r_!" lygon nodded his head, still holding his hands to the blaze. with ten thousand dollars he could get away into--into another world somewhere, some world where he could forget, as he forgot for a moment this afternoon when the girl said to him, "it is never too late to mend." now, as he thought of her, he pulled his coat together and arranged the rough scarf at his neck involuntarily. ten thousand dollars--but ten thousand dollars by blackmail, hush-money, the reward of fire and blood and shame! was it to go on? was he to commit a new crime? he stirred, as though to shake off the net that he felt twisting round him, in the hands of the robust and powerful dupont, on whom crime sat so lightly, who had flourished while he, lygon, had gone lower and lower. ten years ago he had been the better man, had taken the lead, was the master, dupont the obedient confederate, the tool. now, dupont, once the rough river-driver, grown prosperous in a large way for him--who might yet be mayor of his town in quebec--he held the rod of rule. lygon was conscious that the fifty dollars sent him every new year for five years by dupont had been sent with a purpose, and that he was now dupont's tool. debilitated, demoralized, how could he, even if he wished, struggle against this powerful confederate, as powerful in will as in body? yet if he had his own way he would not go to henderley. he had lived with a "familiar spirit" so long, he feared the issue of this next excursion into the fens of crime. dupont was on his feet now. "he will be here only three days more--i haf find it so. to-night it mus' be done. as we go i will tell you what to say. i will wait at the forks, an' we will come back togedder. his check will do. eef he gif at all, the check is all right. he will not stop it. eef he have the money, it is better--_sacrã©_--yes. eef he not gif--well, i will tell you, there is the other railway man he try to hurt, how would he like--but i will tell you on the river. _maint'nant_--queeck, we go." without a word lygon took down another coat and put it on. doing so he concealed a weapon quickly, as dupont stooped to pick a coal for his pipe from the blaze. lygon had no fixed purpose in taking a weapon with him; it was only a vague instinct of caution that moved him. in the canoe on the river, in an almost speechless apathy, he heard dupont's voice giving him instructions. henderley, the financier, had just finished his game of whist and dismissed his friends--it was equivalent to dismissal, rough yet genial as he seemed to be, so did immense wealth and its accompanying power affect his relations with those about him. in everything he was "considered." he was in good-humor, for he had won all the evening, and with a smile he rubbed his hands among the notes--three thousand dollars it was. it was like a man with a pocketful of money chuckling over a coin he had found in the street. presently he heard a rustle of the inner tent-curtain and swung round. he faced the man from the reedy lake. instinctively he glanced round for a weapon, mechanically his hands firmly grasped the chair in front of him. he had been in danger of his life many times, and he had no fear. he had been threatened with assassination more than once, and he had got used to the idea of danger; life to him was only a game. he kept his nerve; he did not call out; he looked his visitor in the eyes. "what are you doing here? who are you?" he said. "don't you know me?" answered lygon, gazing intently at him. face to face with the man who had tempted him to crime, lygon had a new sense of boldness, a sudden feeling of reprisal, a rushing desire to put the screw upon him. at sight of this millionaire with the pile of notes before him there vanished the sickening hesitation of the afternoon, of the journey with dupont. the look of the robust, healthy financier was like acid in a wound; it maddened him. "you will know me better soon," lygon added, his head twitching with excitement. henderley recognized him now. he gripped the armchair spasmodically, but presently regained a complete composure. he knew the game that was forward here, and he also thought that if once he yielded to blackmail there would never be an end to it. he made no pretence, but came straight to the point. "you can do nothing; there is no proof," he said, with firm assurance. "there is dupont," answered lygon, doggedly. "who is dupont?" "the french canadian who helped me--i divided with him." "you said the man who helped you died. you wrote that to me. i suppose you are lying now." henderley coolly straightened the notes on the table, smoothing out the wrinkles, arranging them according to their denominations with an apparently interested eye; yet he was vigilantly watching the outcast before him. to yield to blackmail would be fatal; not to yield to it--he could not see his way. he had long ago forgotten the fire and blood and shame. no whisperer reminded him of that black page in the history of his life; he had been immune of conscience. he could not understand this man before him. it was as bad a case of human degradation as ever he had seen--he remembered the stalwart, if dissipated, ranchman who had acted on his instigation. he knew now that he had made a foolish blunder then, that the scheme had been one of his failures; but he had never looked on it as with eyes reproving crime. as a hundred thoughts tending toward the solution of the problem by which he was faced flashed through his mind, and he rejected them all, he repeated mechanically the phrase "i suppose you are lying now." "dupont is here--not a mile away," was the reply. "he will give proof. he would go to jail or to the gallows to put you there, if you do not pay. he is a devil--dupont." still the great man could not see his way out. he must temporize for a little longer, for rashness might bring scandal or noise; and near by was his daughter, the apple of his eye. "what do you want? how much did you figure you could get out of me, if i let you bleed me?" he asked, sneeringly and coolly. "come now, how much?" lygon, in whom a blind hatred of the man still raged, was about to reply, when he heard a voice calling, "daddy, daddy!" suddenly the red, half-insane light died down in lygon's eyes. he saw the snake upon the ground by the reedy lake, the girl standing over it--the girl with the tawny hair. this was her voice. henderley had made a step toward a curtain opening into another room of the great tent, but before he could reach it the curtain was pushed back and the girl entered with a smile. "may i come in?" she said; then stood still, astonished, seeing lygon. "oh!" she exclaimed. "oh--you!" all at once a look came into her face which stirred it as a flying insect stirs the water of a pool. on the instant she remembered that she had seen the man before. it was ten years ago in montana, on the night of her birthday. her father had been called away to talk with this man, and she had seen him from the steps of the "special." it was only the caricature of the once strong, erect ranchman that she saw; but there was no mistake, she recognized him now. lygon, dumfounded, looked from her to her father, and he saw now in henderley's eyes a fear that was not to be misunderstood. here was where henderley could be smitten, could be brought to his knees. it was the vulnerable part of him. lygon could see that he was stunned. the great financier was in his power. he looked back again to the girl, and her face was full of trouble. a sharp suspicion was in her heart that somehow or other her father was responsible for this man's degradation and ruin. she looked lygon in the eyes. "did you want to see me?" she asked. she scarcely knew why she said it; but she was sensible of trouble, maybe of tragedy, somewhere; and she had a vague dread of she knew not what, for, hide it, avoid it, as she had done so often, there was in her heart an unhappy doubt concerning her father. a great change had come over lygon. her presence had altered him. he was again where she had left him in the afternoon. he heard her say to her father: "this was the man i told you of--at the reedy lake. did you come to see me?" she repeated. "i did not know you were here," he answered. "i came"--he was conscious of henderley's staring eyes fixed upon his helplessly--"i came to ask your father if he would not buy my shack. there is good shooting at the lake; the ducks come plenty, sometimes. i want to get away, to start again somewhere. i've been a failure. i want to get away, right away south. if he would buy it, i could start again. i've had no luck." he had invented it on the moment, but the girl understood better than lygon or henderley could have dreamed. she had seen the change pass over lygon. henderley had a hand on himself again, and the startled look went out of his eyes. "what do you want for your shack and the lake?" he asked, with restored confidence. the fellow no doubt was grateful that his daughter had saved his life, he thought. "five hundred dollars," answered lygon, quickly. henderley would have handed over all that lay on the table before him, but he thought it better not to do so. "i'll buy it," he said. "you seem to have been hit hard. here is the money. bring me the deed to-morrow--to-morrow." "i'll not take the money till i give you the deed," said lygon. "it will do to-morrow. it's doing me a good turn. i'll get away and start again somewhere. i've done no good up here. thank you, sir--thank you." before they realized it, the tent-curtain rose and fell, and he was gone into the night. the trouble was still deep in the girl's eyes as she kissed her father, and he, with an overdone cheerfulness, wished her a good-night. the man of iron had been changed into a man of straw once at least in his lifetime. * * * * * lygon found dupont at the forks. "_eh_, _ben_, it is all right--yes?" dupont asked, eagerly, as lygon joined him. "yes, it is all right," answered lygon. with an exulting laugh and an obscene oath, dupont pushed out the canoe, and they got away into the moonlight. no word was spoken for some distance, but dupont kept giving grunts of satisfaction. "you got the ten t'ousan' each--in cash or check, eh? the check or the money--_hein_?" "i've got nothing," answered lygon. dupont dropped his paddle with a curse. "you got not'ing! you said eet was all right!" he growled. "it is all right. i got nothing. i asked for nothing. i have had enough. i have finished." with a roar of rage dupont sprang on him, and caught him by the throat as the canoe swayed and dipped. he was blind with fury. lygon tried with one hand for his knife, and got it, but the pressure on his throat was growing terrible. for minutes the struggle continued, for lygon was fighting with the desperation of one who makes his last awful onset against fate and doom. dupont also had his knife at work. at last it drank blood, but as he got it home he suddenly reeled blindly, lost his balance, and lurched into the water with a groan. lygon, weapon in hand and bleeding freely, waited for him to rise and make for the canoe again. ten, twenty, fifty seconds passed. dupont did not rise. a minute went by, and still there was no stir, no sign. dupont would never rise again. in his wild rage he had burst a blood-vessel on the brain. lygon bound up his reeking wound as best he could. he did it calmly, whispering to himself the while. "i must do it. i must get there if i can. i will not be afraid to die then," he muttered to himself. presently he grasped an oar and paddled feebly. a slight wind had risen, and, as he turned the boat in to face the forks again, it helped to carry the canoe to the landing-place. lygon dragged himself out. he did not try to draw the canoe up, but began this journey of a mile back to the tent he had left so recently. first, step by step, leaning against trees, drawing himself forward, a journey as long to his determined mind as from youth to age. would it never end? it seemed a terrible climbing-up the sides of a cliff, and, as he struggled fainting on, all sorts of sounds were in his ears, but he realized that the whisperer was no longer there. the sounds he heard did not torture, they helped his stumbling feet. they were like the murmur of waters, like the sounds of the forest and soft, booming bells. but the bells were only the beatings of his heart--so loud, so swift. [illustration: for minutes the struggle continued] he was on his knees now, crawling on--on--on. at last there came a light, suddenly bursting on him from a tent he was so near. then he called, and called again, and fell forward on his face. but now he heard a voice above him. it was _her_ voice. he had blindly struggled on to die near her, near where she was, she was so pitiful and good. he had accomplished his journey, and her voice was speaking above him. there were other voices, but it was only hers that he heard. "god help him--oh, god help him!" she was saying. he drew a long, quiet breath. "i will sleep now," he said, clearly. he would hear the whisperer no more. as deep as the sea "what can i do, dan? i'm broke, too. my last dollar went to pay my last debt to-day. i've nothing but what i stand in. i've got prospects, but i can't discount prospects at the banks." the speaker laughed bitterly. "i've reaped and i'm sowing, the same as you, dan." the other made a nervous motion of protest. "no; not the same as me, flood--not the same. it's sink or swim with me, and if you can't help me--oh, i'd take my gruel without whining, if it wasn't for di! it's that that knocks me over. it's the shame to her. oh, what a cursed ass and fool--and thief, i've been!" "thief?--thief?" flood rawley dropped the flaming match with which he was about to light a cheroot, and stood staring, his dark-blue eyes growing wider, his worn, handsome face becoming drawn, as swift conviction mastered him. he felt that the black words which had fallen from his friend's lips--from the lips of diana welldon's brother--were the truth. he looked at the plump face, the full, amiable eyes, now misty with fright, at the characterless hand nervously feeling the golden mustache, at the well-fed, inert body; and he knew that, whatever the trouble or the peril, dan welldon could not surmount it alone. "what is it?" rawley asked, rather sharply, his fingers running through his slightly grizzled black hair, but not excitedly, for he wanted no scenes; and if this thing could hurt di welldon, and action was necessary, he must remain cool. what she was to do, heaven and he only knew; what she had done for him, perhaps neither understood fully as yet. "what is it--quick?" he added, and his words were like a sharp grip upon dan welldon's shoulder. "racing?--cards?" dan nodded. "yes, over at askatoon; five hundred on jibway, the favorite--he fell at the last fence; five hundred at poker with nick fison; and a thousand in land speculation at edmonton, on margin. everything went wrong." "and so you put your hand in the railway company's money-chest?" "it seemed such a dead certainty--jibway; and the edmonton corner-blocks, too. i'd had luck with nick before; but--well, there it is, flood." "they know--the railway people--shaughnessy knows?" "yes, the president knows. he's at calgary now. they telegraphed him, and he wired to give me till midnight to pay up or go to jail. they're watching me now. i can't stir. there's no escape, and there's no one i can ask for help but you. that's why i've come, flood." "lord, what a fool! couldn't you see what the end would be if your plunging didn't come off? you--you oughtn't to bet, or speculate, or play cards, you're not clever enough. you've got blind rashness, and so you think you're bold. and di--oh, you idiot! and on a salary of a thousand dollars a year!" "i suppose di would help me; but i couldn't explain." the weak face puckered, a lifeless kind of tear gathered in the ox-like eyes. "yes, she probably would help you. she'd probably give you all she's saved to go to europe with and study, saved from her pictures sold at twenty per cent. of their value; and she'd mortgage the little income she's got to keep her brother out of jail. of course she would, and of course you ought to be ashamed of yourself for thinking of it." rawley lighted his cigar and smoked fiercely. "it would be better for her than my going to jail," stubbornly replied the other. "but i don't want to tell her, or to ask her for money. that's why i've come to you. you needn't be so hard, flood; you've not been a saint; and di knows it." rawley took the cheroot from his mouth, threw back his head, and laughed mirthlessly, ironically. then suddenly he stopped and looked round the room till his eyes rested on a portrait-drawing which hung on the wall opposite the window, through which the sun poured. it was the face of a girl with beautiful bronzed hair, and full, fine, beautifully modelled face, with brown eyes deep and brooding, which seemed to have time and space behind them--not before them. the lips were delicate and full, and had the look suggesting a smile which the inward thought has stayed. it was like one of the titian women--like a titian that hangs on the wall of the gallery at munich. the head and neck, the whole personality, had an air of distinction and destiny. the drawing had been done by a wandering duchess who had seen the girl sketching in the foothills when on a visit to that "wild west" which has such power to refine and inspire minds not superior to nature. its replica was carried to a castle in scotland. it had been the gift of diana welldon on a certain day not long ago, when flood rawley had made a pledge to her, which was as vital to him and to his future as two thousand dollars were vital to dan welldon now. "you've not been a saint, and di knows it," repeated the weak brother of a girl whose fame belonged to the west; whose name was a signal for cheerful looks; whose buoyant humor and impartial friendliness gained her innumerable friends; and whose talent, understood by few, gave her a certain protection, lifting her a little away from the outwardly crude and provincial life around her. when rawley spoke, it was with quiet deliberation, and even gentleness. "i haven't been a saint, and she knows it, as you say, dan; but the law is on my side as yet, it isn't on yours. there's the difference." "you used to gamble yourself; you were pretty tough, and you oughtn't to walk up my back with hobnailed boots." "yes, i gambled, dan, and i drank, and i raised a dust out here. my record was writ pretty big. but i didn't lay my hands on the ark of the social covenant, whose inscription is, _thou shalt not steal_; and that's why i'm poor but proud, and no one's watching for me round the corner, same as you." welldon's half-defiant petulance disappeared. "what's done can't be undone." then, with a sudden burst of anguish, "oh, get me out of this somehow!" "how? i've got no money. by speaking to your sister?" the other was silent. "shall i do it?" rawley peered anxiously into the other's face, and he knew that there was no real security against the shameful trouble being laid bare to her. "i want a chance to start straight again." the voice was fluttered, almost whining; it carried no conviction; but the words had in them a reminder of words that rawley himself had said to diana welldon but a few months ago, and a new spirit stirred in him. he stepped forward and, gripping dan's shoulder with a hand of steel, said, fiercely: "no, dan. i'd rather take you to her in your coffin. she's never known you, never seen what most of us have seen, that all you have--or nearly all--is your lovely looks and what they call a kind heart. there's only you two in your family, and she's got to live with you--awhile, anyhow. she couldn't stand this business. she mustn't stand it. she's had enough to put up with in me; but at the worst she could pass me by on the other side, and there would be an end. it would have been said that flood rawley had got his deserts. it's different with you." his voice changed, softened. "dan, i made a pledge to her that i'd never play cards again for money while i lived, and it wasn't a thing to take on without some cogitation. but i cogitated, and took it on, and started life over again--me! began practising law again--barrister, solicitor, notary public--at forty. and at last i've got my chance in a big case against the canadian pacific. it'll make me or break me, dan.... there, i wanted you to see where i stand with di; and now i want you to promise me that you'll not leave these rooms till i see you again. i'll get you clear; i'll save you, dan." "flood! oh, my god, flood!" the voice was broken. "you've got to stay here, and you're to remember not to get the funk, even if i don't come before midnight. i'll be here then, if i'm alive. if you don't keep your word--but, there, you will." both hands gripped the graceful shoulders of the miscreant like a vise. "so help me, flood," was the frightened, whispered reply. "i'll make it up to you somehow, some day. i'll pay you back." rawley caught up his cap from the table. "steady!--steady! don't go at a fence till you're sure of your seat, dan," he said. then, with a long look at the portrait on the wall and an exclamation which the other did not hear, he left the room with a set, determined face. * * * * * "who told you? what brought you, flood?" the girl asked, her chin in her long, white hands, her head turned from the easel to him, a book in her lap, the sun breaking through the leaves upon her hat, touching the titian hair with splendor. "fate brought me, and didn't tell me," he answered, with a whimsical quirk of the mouth and his trouble lurking behind the sea-deep eyes. "wouldn't you have come if you knew i was here?" she urged, archly. "not for two thousand dollars," he answered, the look of trouble deepening in his eyes, but his lips were smiling. he had a quaint sense of humor, and at his last gasp would have noted the ridiculous thing. and surely it was a droll malignity of fate to bring him here to her whom, in this moment of all moments in his life, he wished far away. fate meant to try him to the uttermost. this hurdle of trial was high, indeed. "two thousand dollars--nothing less?" she inquired, gayly. "you are too specific for a real lover." "fate fixed the amount," he added, dryly. "fate--you talk so much of fate," she replied, gravely, and her eyes looked into the distance. "you make me think of it, too, and i don't want to do so. i don't want to feel helpless, to be the child of accident and destiny." "oh, you get the same thing in the 'fore-ordination' that old minister m'gregor preaches every sunday. 'be elect or be damned,' he says to us all. names aren't important; but, anyhow, it was fate that led me here." "are you sure it wasn't me?" she asked, softly. "are you sure i wasn't calling you, and you had to come?" "well, it was _en route_, anyhow; and you are always calling, if i must tell you," he laughed. suddenly he became grave. "i hear you call me in the night sometimes, and i start up and say 'yes, di!' out of my sleep. it's a queer hallucination. i've got you on the brain, certainly." "it seems to vex you--certainly," she said, opening the book that lay in her lap, "and your eyes trouble me to-day. they've got a look that used to be in them, flood, before--before you promised; and another look i don't understand and don't like. i suppose it's always so. the real business of life is trying to understand each other." "you have wonderful thoughts for one that's had so little chance," he said. "that's because you're a genius, i suppose. teaching can't give that sort of thing--the insight." "what is the matter, flood?" she asked, suddenly, again, her breast heaving, her delicate, rounded fingers interlacing. "i heard a man say once that you were 'as deep as the sea.' he did not mean it kindly, but i do. you are in trouble, and i want to share it if i can. where were you going when you came across me here?" "to see old busby, the quack-doctor up there," he answered, nodding toward a shrubbed and wooded hillock behind them. "old busby!" she rejoined, in amazement. "what do you want with him--not medicine of that old quack, that dreadful man?" "he cures people sometimes. a good many out here owe him more than they'll ever pay him." "is he as rich an old miser as they say?" "he doesn't look rich, does he?" was the enigmatical answer. "does any one know his real history? he didn't come from nowhere. he must have had friends once. some one must once have cared for him, though he seems such a monster now." "yet he cures people sometimes," he rejoined, abstractedly. "probably there's some good underneath. i'm going to try and see." "what is it? what is your business with him? won't you tell me? is it so secret?" "i want him to help me in a case i've got in hand. a client of mine is in trouble--you mustn't ask about it; and he can help, i think--i think so." he got to his feet. "i must be going, di," he added. suddenly a flush swept over his face, and he reached out and took both her hands. "oh, you are a million times too good for me!" he said. "but if all goes well, i'll do my best to make you forget it." "wait--wait one moment," she answered. "before you go i want you to hear what i've been reading over and over to myself just now. it is from a book i got from quebec, called _when time shall pass_. it is a story of two like you and me. the man is writing to the woman, and it has things that you have said to me--in a different way." "no, i don't talk like a book, but i know a star in a dark night when i see it," he answered, with a catch in his throat. "hush!" she said, catching his hand in hers as she read, while all around them the sounds of summer--the distant clack of a reaper, the crack of a whip, the locusts droning, the whir of a young partridge, the squeak of a chipmunk--were tuned to the harmony of the moment and her voice: "'night and the sombre silence, oh, my love, and one star shining! first, warm, velvety sleep, and then this quick, quiet waking to your voice which seems to call me. is it--_is_ it you that calls? do you sometimes, even in your dreams, speak to me? far beneath unconsciousness is there the summons of your spirit to me?... i like to think so. i like to think that this thing which has come to us is deeper, greater than we are. sometimes day and night there flash before my eyes--my mind's eyes--pictures of you and me in places unfamiliar, landscapes never before seen, activities uncomprehended and unknown, bright, alluring glimpses of some second being, some possible, maybe never-to-be-realized future, alas! yet these swift-moving shutters of the soul, or imagination, _or_ reality--who shall say which?--give me a joy never before felt in life. if i am not a better man for this love of mine for you, i am _more_ than i was, and shall be more than i am. much of my life in the past was mean and small, so much that i have said and done has been unworthy--my love for you is too sharp a light for my gross imperfections of the past! come what will, be what must, i stake my life, my heart, my soul on you--that beautiful, beloved face; those deep eyes in which my being is drowned; those lucid, perfect hands that have bound me to the mast of your destiny. i cannot go back, i must go forward: now i must keep on loving you or be shipwrecked. i did not know that this was in me, this tide of love, this current of devotion. destiny plays me beyond my ken, beyond my dreams. "_o cithoeron!_" turn from me now--or never, o my love! loose me from the mast, and let the storm and wave wash me out into the sea of your forgetfulness now--or never!... but keep me, keep me, if your love is great enough, if i bring you any light or joy; for i am yours to my uttermost note of life.'" "he knew!--he knew!" rawley said, catching her wrists in his hands and drawing her to him. "if i could write, that's what i should have said to you, beautiful and beloved. how mean and small and ugly my life was till you made me over! i was a bad lot." "so much hung on one little promise," she said, and drew closer to him. "you were never bad," she added; then, with an arm sweeping the universe, "oh, isn't it all good, and isn't it all worth living?" [illustration: "oh, isn't it all worth living?" she said] his face lost its glow. over in the town her brother faced a ruined life, and the girl beside him a dark humiliation and a shame which would poison her life hereafter, unless--his look turned to the little house where the quack-doctor lived. he loosed her hands. "now for caliban," he said. "i shall be ariel and follow you--in my heart," she said. "be sure and make him tell you the story of his life," she added, with a laugh, as his lips swept the hair behind her ears. as he moved swiftly away, watching his long strides, she said, proudly, "as deep as the sea." after a moment she added: "and he was once a gambler, until, until" she--glanced at the open book, then with sweet mockery looked at her hands--"until 'those lucid, perfect hands bound me to the mast of your destiny.' o vain diana! but they are rather beautiful," she added, softly, "and i am rather happy." there was something like a gay little chuckle in her throat. "o vain diana!" she repeated. * * * * * rawley entered the door of the hut on the hill without ceremony. there was no need for courtesy, and the work he had come to do could be easier done without it. old busby was crouched over a table, his mouth lapping milk from a full bowl on the table. he scarcely raised his head when rawley entered--through the open door he had seen his visitor coming. he sipped on, his straggling beard dripping. there was silence for a time. "what do you want?" he growled at last. "finish your swill, and then we can talk," said rawley, carelessly. he took a chair near the door, lighted a cheroot and smoked, watching the old man, as he tipped the great bowl toward his face, as though it were some wild animal feeding. the clothes were patched and worn, the coat-front was spattered with stains of all kinds, the hair and beard were unkempt and long, giving him what would have been the look of a mangy lion but that the face had the expression of some beast less honorable. the eyes, however, were malignantly intelligent; the hands, ill-cared for, were long, well-shaped, and capable, but of a hateful yellow color like the face. and through all was a sense of power, dark and almost mediã¦val. secret, evilly wise, and inhuman, he looked a being apart, whom men might seek for help in dark purposes. "what do you want--medicine?" he muttered at last, wiping his beard and mouth with the palm of his hand, and the palm on his knees. rawley looked at the ominous-looking bottles on the shelves above the old man's head, at the forceps, knives, and other surgical instruments on the walls--they at least were bright and clean--and, taking the cheroot slowly from his mouth, he said: "shin-plasters are what i want. a friend of mine has caught his leg in a trap." the old man gave an evil chuckle at the joke, for a "shin-plaster" was a money-note worth a quarter of a dollar. "i've got some," he growled in reply, "but they cost twenty-five cents each. you can have them for your friend at the price." "i want eight thousand of them from you. he's hurt pretty bad," was the dogged, dry answer. the shaggy eyebrows of the quack drew together, and the eyes peered out sharply through half-closed lids. "there's plenty of wanting and not much getting in this world," he rejoined, with a leer of contempt, and spat on the floor, while yet the furtive watchfulness of the eyes indicated a mind ill at ease. smoke came in placid puffs from the cheroot--rawley was smoking very hard, but with a judicial meditation, as it seemed. "yes, but if you want a thing so bad that, to get it, you'll face the devil or the beast of revelations, it's likely to come to you." "you call me a beast?" the reddish-brown face grew black like that of a bedouin in his rage. "i said the beast of revelations--don't you know the scriptures?" "i know that a fool is to be answered according to his folly," was the hoarse reply, and the great head wagged to and fro in its smarting rage. "well, i'm doing my best; and perhaps when the folly is all out we'll come to the revelations of the beast." there was a silence, in which the gross impostor shifted heavily in his seat, while a hand twitched across the mouth and then caught at the breast of the threadbare black coat abstractedly. rawley leaned forward, one elbow on a knee, the cheroot in his fingers. he spoke almost confidentially, as to some ignorant and misguided savage--as he had talked to indian chiefs in his time when searching for the truth regarding some crime. "i've had a lot of revelations in my time. a lawyer and a doctor always do. and though there are folks who say i'm no lawyer, as there are those who say with greater truth that you're no doctor, speaking technically, we've both had 'revelations.' you've seen a lot that's seamy, and so have i. you're pretty seamy yourself. in fact, you're as bad a man as ever saved lives--and lost them. you've had a long tether, and you've swung on it--swung wide. but you've had a lot of luck that you haven't swung high, too." he paused and flicked away the ash from his cheroot, while the figure before him swayed animal-like from side to side, muttering. "you've got brains, a great lot of brains of a kind--however you came by them," rawley continued; "and you've kept a lot of people in the west from passing in their checks before their time. you've rooked 'em, chiselled 'em out of a lot of cash, too. there was old lamson--fifteen hundred for the goitre on his neck; and mrs. gilligan for the cancer--two thousand, wasn't it? 'tincture of lebanon leaves' you called the medicine, didn't you? you must have made fifty thousand or so in the last ten years." "what i've made i'll keep," was the guttural answer, and the talon-like fingers clawed the table. "you've made people pay high for curing them, saving them sometimes; but you haven't paid me high for saving you in the courts; and there's one case that you haven't paid me for at all. that was when the patient died--and you didn't." the face of the old man became mottled with a sudden fear, but he jerked it forward once or twice with an effort at self-control. presently he steadied to the ordeal of suspense, while he kept saying to himself, "what does he know--what--which?" "malpractice resulting in death--that was poor jimmy tearle; and something else resulting in death--that was the switchman's wife. and the law is hard in the west where a woman's in the case--quick and hard. yes, you've swung wide on your tether; look out that you don't swing high, old man." "you can prove nothing; it's bluff!" came the reply in a tone of malice and of fear. "you forget. i was your lawyer in jimmy tearle's case, and a letter's been found written by the switchman's wife to her husband. it reached me the night he was killed by the avalanche. it was handed over to me by the post-office, as the lawyer acting for the relatives. i've read it. i've got it. it gives you away." "i wasn't alone." fear had now disappeared, and the old man was fighting. "no, you weren't alone; and if the switchman and the switchman's wife weren't dead and out of it all, and if the other man that didn't matter any more than you wasn't alive and hadn't a family that does matter, i wouldn't be asking you peaceably for two thousand dollars as my fee for getting you off two cases that might have sent you to prison for twenty years, or, maybe, hung you to the nearest tree." the heavy body pulled itself together, the hands clinched. "blackmail--you think i'll stand it?" "yes, i think you will. i want two thousand dollars to help a friend in a hole, and i mean to have it, if you think your neck's worth it." teeth, wonderfully white, showed through the shaggy beard. "if i had to go to prison--or swing, as you say--do you think i'd go with my mouth shut? i'd not pay up alone. the west would crack--holy heaven, i know enough to make it sick. go on and see! i've got the west in my hand." he opened and shut his fingers with a grimace of cruelty which shook rawley in spite of himself. rawley had trusted to the inspiration of the moment; he had had no clearly defined plan; he had believed that he could frighten the old man, and by force of will bend him to his purposes. it had all been more difficult than he had expected. he kept cool, imperturbable, and determined, however. he knew that what the old quack said was true--the west might shake with scandal concerning a few who, no doubt, in remorse and secret fear, had more than paid the penalty of their offences. but he thought of di welldon and of her criminal brother, and every nerve, every faculty, was screwed to its utmost limit of endurance and capacity. suddenly the old man gave a new turn to the event. he got up and, rummaging in an old box, drew out a dice-box. rattling the dice, he threw them out on the table before him, a strange, excited look crossing his face. "play for it," he said, in a harsh, croaking voice. "play for the two thousand. win it, if you can. you want it bad. i want to keep it bad. it's nice to have; it makes a man feel warm--money does. i'd sleep in ten-dollar bills, i'd have my clothes made of them, if i could; i'd have my house papered with them; i'd eat 'em. oh, i know, i know about you--and her--diana welldon! you've sworn off gambling, and you've kept your pledge for near a year. well, it's twenty years since i gambled--twenty years. i gambled with these then." he shook the dice in the box. "i gambled everything i had away--more than two thousand dollars--more than two thousand dollars." he laughed a raw, mirthless laugh. "well, you're the greatest gambler in the west. so was i--in the east. it pulverized me at last, when i'd nothing left--and drink, drink, drink. i gave up both one night and came out west. i started doctoring here. i've got money, plenty of money--medicine, mines, land got it for me. i've been lucky. now you come to bluff me--me! you don't know old busby." he spat on the floor. "i'm not to be bluffed. i know too much. before they could lynch me i'd talk. but to play you, the greatest gambler in the west, for two thousand dollars--yes, i'd like the sting of it again. twos, fours, double-sixes--the gentleman's game!" he rattled the dice and threw them with a flourish out on the table, his evil face lighting up. "come! you can't have something for nothing!" he growled. as he spoke, a change came over rawley's face. it lost its cool imperturbability, it grew paler, the veins on the fine forehead stood out, a new, flaring light came into the eyes. the old gambler's spirit was alive. but even as it rose, sweeping him into that area of fiery abstraction where every nerve is strung to a fine tension and the surrounding world disappears, he saw the face of diana welldon, he remembered her words to him not an hour before, and the issue of the conflict, other considerations apart, was without doubt. but there was her brother and his certain fate if the two thousand dollars were not paid in by midnight. he was desperate. it was in reality for diana's sake. he approached the table, and his old calm returned. "i have no money to play with," he said, quietly. with a gasp of satisfaction, the old man fumbled in the inside of his coat and drew out layers of ten, fifty, and hundred dollar bills. it was lined with them. he passed a pile over to rawley--two thousand dollars. he placed a similar pile before himself. as rawley laid his hand on the bills, the thought rushed through his mind, "you have it--keep it!" but he put it away from him. with a gentleman he might have done it, with this man before him it was impossible. he must take his chances; and it was the only chance in which he had hope now, unless he appealed for humanity's sake, for the girl's sake, and told the real truth. it might avail. well, that would be the last resort. "for small stakes?" said the grimy quack, in a gloating voice. rawley nodded, and then added: "we stop at eleven o'clock, unless i've lost or won all before that." "and stake what's left on the last throw?" "yes." there was silence for a moment, in which rawley seemed to grow older, and a set look came to his mouth--a broken pledge, no matter what the cause, brings heavy penalties to the honest mind. he shut his eyes for an instant, and, when he opened them, he saw that his fellow-gambler was watching him with an enigmatical and furtive smile. did this caliban have some understanding of what was at stake in his heart and soul? "play!" rawley said, sharply, and was himself again. for hour after hour there was scarce a sound, save the rattle of the dice and an occasional exclamation from the old man as he threw a double-six. as dusk fell, the door had been shut and a lighted lantern was hung over their heads. fortune had fluctuated. once the old man's pile had diminished to two notes, then the luck had changed and his pile grew larger; then fell again; but, as the hands of the clock on the wall above the blue medicine bottles reached a quarter to eleven, it increased steadily throw after throw. now the player's fever was in rawley's eyes. his face was deadly pale, but his hand threw steadily, calmly, almost negligently, as it might seem. all at once, at eight minutes to eleven, the luck turned in his favor, and his pile mounted again. time after time he dropped double-sixes. it was almost uncanny. he seemed to see the dice in the box, and his hand threw them out with the precision of a machine. long afterward he had this vivid illusion that he could see the dice in the box. as the clock was about to strike eleven he had before him three thousand eight hundred dollars. it was his throw. "two hundred," he said, in a whisper, and threw. he won. with a gasp of relief, he got to his feet, the money in his hand. he stepped backward from the table, then staggered, and a faintness passed over him. he had sat so long without moving that his legs bent under him. there was a pail of water with a dipper in it on a bench. he caught up a dipperful of water, drank it empty, and let it fall in the pail again with a clatter. "dan," he said, abstractedly--"dan, you're all safe now." then he seemed to wake, as from a dream, and looked at the man at the table. busby was leaning on it with both hands, and staring at rawley like some animal jaded and beaten from pursuit. rawley walked back to the table and laid down two thousand dollars. "i only wanted two thousand," he said, and put the other two thousand in his pocket. the evil eyes gloated, the long fingers clutched the pile and swept it into a great inside pocket. then the shaggy head bent forward. "you said it was for dan," he said--"dan welldon?" rawley hesitated. "what is that to you?" he replied, at last. with a sudden impulse the old impostor lurched round, opened a box, drew out a roll, and threw it on the table. "it's got to be known sometime," he said, "and you'll be my lawyer when i'm put into the ground--you're clever. they call me a quack. malpractice--bah! there's my diploma--james clifton welldon. right enough, isn't it?" rawley was petrified. he knew the forgotten story of james clifton welldon, the specialist, turned gambler, who had almost ruined his own brother--the father of dan and diana--at cards and dice, and had then ruined himself and disappeared. here, where his brother had died, he had come years ago and practised medicine as a quack. "oh, there's plenty of proof, if it's wanted!" he said. "i've got it here." he tapped the box behind him. "why did i do it? because it's my way. and you're going to marry my niece, and'll have it all some day. but not till i've finished with it--not unless you win it from me at dice or cards.... but no"--something human came into the old, degenerate face--"no more gambling for the man that's to marry diana. there's a wonder and a beauty!" he chuckled to himself. "she'll be rich when i've done with it. you're a lucky man--ay, you're lucky." rawley was about to tell the old man what the two thousand dollars was for, but a fresh wave of repugnance passed over him, and, hastily drinking another dipperful of water, he opened the door. he looked back. the old man was crouching forward, lapping milk from the great bowl, his beard dripping. in disgust he swung round again. the fresh, clear air caught his face. with a gasp of relief he stepped out into the night, closing the door behind him. the journey to the polar sea by sir john franklin everyman, i will go with thee, and be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side. (this is number 447 of everyman's library) introduction by captain r.f. scott. john franklin, born in 1786. many naval experiences, including trafalgar, before heading an expedition across northern canada in 1819. elected f.r.s. and knighted after a second expedition. lieutenant-governor of van diemen's land, 1836 to 1843. last expedition, 1845, was lost, and franklin died in 1847 near the arctic. subsequent investigations have established him as the discoverer of the north-west passage. the journey to the polar sea. sir john franklin. introduction. in days of hurried action i have been astonished at the depth of interest which a re-perusal of this wonderful old narrative has held for me. wonderful it is in its simplicity and its revelation of the simplicity of character and faith of the man who wrote it. it is old only by comparison--scarcely ninety years have elapsed since the adventures it described were enacted--yet such a period has never held a fuller measure of change or more speedily passed current events into the limbo of the past. nothing could more vividly impress this change than the narrative itself. we are told that mr. beck missed his ship at yarmouth but succeeded in rejoining her at stromness, having travelled "nine successive days almost without rest." what a vision of post-chaises, sweating horses and heavy roads is suggested! and if the contrast with present-day conditions in our own islands is great, how much greater is it in that vast dominion through which franklin directed his pioneer footsteps. as he followed the lonely trails to fort cumberland, or sailed along the solitary shores of lake winnipeg, how little could he guess that in less than a century a hundred thousand inhabitants would dwell by the shore of the great lake, or that its primeval regions would one day provide largely the bread of his countrymen. there civilisation has followed fast indeed, and ever it presses forward on the tracks of the pioneer. but even today if we follow franklin we must come again to the wild--to the great barren lands and to the ice-bound limit of a continent--regions where for ninety years season has succeeded season without change--where few have passed since his day and nature alone holds sway. for those who would know what is as well as for those who would know what has been, this narrative still holds its original interest; all must appreciate that it records the work of a great traveller and a gallant man whose fame deserves to live. r.f. scott. ... sir john franklin's voyages into the polar seas: f.w. beechey: voyage of discovery toward the north pole in h.m. ships dorothea and trent (with summary of earlier attempts to reach the pacific by the north) 1818. narrative of a journey to the shores of the polar sea, in the years 1819 to 1822, by john franklin, 1823, 1824. narrative of a second expedition to the shores of the polar sea in the years 1825 to 1827, by john franklin, 1828. publications concerning the search for sir john franklin: report of the committee appointed by the lords commissioners of the admiralty to inquire into and report on the recent arctic expeditions in search of sir john franklin, 1851. papers relative to the recent arctic expeditions in search of sir john franklin and the crews of h.m.s. erebus and terror, 1854. further papers relative to the search, 1855. r. king, the franklin expedition from first to last, 1855. r. huish, recent expeditions to the polar regions, including all the voyages in search of sir j. franklin, 1855. e.k. kane, arctic explorations, the second grinnell expedition in search of sir john franklin, 1856. macclintock, the voyage of the fox in the arctic seas. a narrative of the discovery of the fate of sir john franklin, 1859, 1861, 1869, 1908. sir j. leslie, discovery and adventure in the polar seas, with a narrative of the recent expeditions in search of sir john franklin, 1860. j.a. browne, the north-west passage, and the fate of sir john franklin, 1860. sir allen m. young, the search for sir john franklin, etc., 1875. schwatka's search, sledging in the arctic in search of franklin records, 1881. the search for franklin. american expedition under lieutenant schwatka, 1878 to 1880, 1882. j.h. skewes, the true secret of the discovery of the fate of sir john franklin, 1889. life: s. osborn, career, last voyage and fate of sir john franklin (once a week, 1859) 1860. a brave man and his belongings, by a niece of the first mrs. franklin, 1874. a.h. beesley, sir john franklin; the narrative of his life (the new plutarch) 1881. a.h. markham (the world's great explorers) 1891. g.b. smith, sir john franklin and the romance of the north-west passage, 1895. h.d. traill, 1896. h. harbour, arctic explorers, 1904. e.c. buley, into the polar seas; the story of sir j. franklin, etc., 1909. ... contents. introduction. chapter 1. departure from england. transactions at stromness. enter davis straits. perilous situation on the shore of resolution island. land on the coast of labrador. esquimaux of savage islands. york factory. preparations for the journey into the interior. chapter 2. passage up hayes, steel and hill rivers. cross swampy lake. jack river. knee lake and magnetic islet. trout river. holy lake. weepinapannis river. windy lake. white fall lake and river. echemamis and sea rivers. play green lakes. lake winnipeg. river saskatchewan. cross, cedar and pine island lakes. cumberland house. chapter 3. dr. richardson's residence at cumberland house. his account of the cree indians. chapter 4. leave cumberland house. mode of travelling in winter. arrival at carlton house. stone indians. visit to a buffalo pound. goitres. departure from carlton house. isle a la crosse. arrival at fort chipewyan. chapter 5. transactions at fort chipewyan. arrival of dr. richardson and mr. hood. preparations for our journey to the northward. chapter 6. mr. hood's journey to the basquiau hill. sojourns with an indian party. his journey to chipewyan. chapter 7. departure from chipewyan. difficulties of the various navigations of the rivers and lakes, and of the portages. slave lake and fort providence. scarcity of provisions, and discontent of the canadian voyagers. difficulties with regard to the indian guides. refusal to proceed. visit of observation to the upper part of copper-mine river. return to the winter quarters of fort enterprise. chapter 8. transactions at fort enterprise. mr. back's narrative of his journey to chipewyan, and return. chapter 9. continuation of proceedings at fort enterprise. some account of the copper indians. preparations for the journey to the northward. chapter 10. departure from fort enterprise. navigation of the copper-mine river. visit to the copper mountain. interview with the esquimaux. departure of the indian hunters. arrangements made with them for our return. chapter 11. navigation of the polar sea, in two canoes, as far as cape turnagain, to the eastward, a distance exceeding five hundred and fifty miles. observations on the probability of a north-west passage. chapter 12. journey across the barren grounds. difficulty and delay in crossing copper-mine river. melancholy and fatal results thereof. extreme misery of the whole party. murder of mr. hood. death of several of the canadians. desolate state of fort enterprise. distress suffered at that place. dr. richardson's narrative. mr. back's narrative. conclusion. ... introduction. his majesty's government having determined upon sending an expedition from the shores of hudson's bay by land to explore the northern coast of america from the mouth of the copper-mine river to the eastward, i had the honour to be appointed to this service by earl bathurst, on the recommendation of the lords commissioners of the admiralty; who at the same time nominated doctor john richardson, a surgeon in the royal navy, mr. george back, and mr. robert hood, two admiralty midshipmen, to be joined with me in the enterprise. my instructions in substance informed me that the main object of the expedition was that of determining the latitudes and longitudes of the northern coast of north america, and the trending of that coast from the mouth of the copper-mine river to the eastern extremity of that continent; that it was left for me to determine according to circumstances whether it might be most advisable to proceed at once directly to the northward till i arrived at the sea-coast, and thence westerly towards the copper-mine river; or advance in the first instance by the usual route to the mouth of the copper-mine river, and from thence easterly till i should arrive at the eastern extremity of that continent; that in the adoption of either of these plans i was to be guided by the advice and information which i should receive from the wintering servants of the hudson's bay company, who would be instructed by their employers to cooperate cordially in the prosecution of the objects of the expedition, and who would provide me with the necessary escort of indians to act as guides, interpreters, game-killers, etc.; and also with such articles of clothing, ammunition, snowshoes, presents, etc., as should be deemed expedient for me to take. that as another principal object of the expedition was to amend the very defective geography of the northern part of north america i was to be very careful to ascertain correctly the latitude and longitude of every remarkable spot upon our route, and of all the bays, harbours, rivers, headlands, etc., that might occur along the northern shore of north america. that in proceeding along the coast i should erect conspicuous marks at places where ships might enter, or to which a boat could be sent; and to deposit information as to the nature of the coast for the use of lieutenant parry. that in the journal of our route i should register the temperature of the air at least three times in every twenty-four hours; together with the state of the wind and weather and any other meteorological phenomena. that i should not neglect any opportunity of observing and noting down the dip and variation of the magnetic needle, and the intensity of the magnetic force; and should take particular notice whether any, and what kind or degree of, influence the aurora borealis might appear to exert on the magnetic needle; and to notice whether that phenomenon were attended with any noise; and to make any other observations that might be likely to tend to the further development of its cause and the laws by which it is governed. mr. back and mr. hood were to assist me in all the observations above-mentioned, and to make drawings of the land, of the natives, and of the various objects of natural history; and particularly of such as dr. richardson who, to his professional duties was to add that of naturalist, might consider to be most curious and interesting. i was instructed, on my arrival at or near the mouth of the copper-mine river, to make every inquiry as to the situation of the spot whence native copper had been brought down by the indians to the hudson's bay establishment, and to visit and explore the place in question; in order that dr. richardson might be enabled to make such observations as might be useful in a commercial point of view, or interesting to the science of mineralogy. from joseph berens, esquire, the governor of the hudson's bay company, and the gentlemen of the committee i received all kinds of assistance and information, communicated in the most friendly manner previous to my leaving england; and i had the gratification of perusing the orders to their agents and servants in north america, containing the fullest directions to promote by every means the progress of the expedition. i most cheerfully avail myself of this opportunity of expressing my gratitude to these gentlemen for their personal kindness to myself and the other officers, as well as for the benefits rendered by them to the expedition; and the same sentiment is due towards the gentlemen of the north-west company, both in england and america, more particularly to simon mcgillivray, esquire, of london, from whom i received much useful information and cordial letters of recommendation to the partners and agents of that company resident on our line of route. a short time before i left london i had the pleasure and advantage of an interview with the late sir alexander mackenzie who was one of the two persons who had visited the coast we were to explore. he afforded me, in the most open and kind manner, much valuable information and advice. the provisions, instruments, and other articles, of which i had furnished a list by direction of the lords commissioners of the admiralty, were embarked on board the hudson's bay company's ship prince of wales, appointed by the committee to convey the expedition to york factory, their principal establishment in hudson's bay. it will be seen in the course of the narrative how much reason i had to be satisfied with, and how great my obligations are to, all the gentlemen who were associated with me in the expedition, whose kindness, good conduct, and cordial cooperation have made an impression which can never be effaced from my mind. the unfortunate death of mr. hood is the only drawback which i feel from the otherwise unalloyed pleasure of reflecting on that cordial unanimity which at all times prevailed among us in the days of sunshine, and in those of sickness and sorrow. to dr. richardson in particular the exclusive merit is due of whatever collections and observations have been made in the department of natural history; and i am indebted to him in no small degree for his friendly advice and assistance in the preparation of the present narrative. the charts and drawings were made by lieutenant back and the late lieutenant hood. both these gentlemen cheerfully and ably assisted me in making the observations and in the daily conduct of the expedition. the observations made by mr. hood on the various phenomena presented by the aurora borealis* will it is presumed present to the reader some new facts connected with this meteor. mr. back was mostly prevented from turning his attention to objects of science by the many severe duties which were required of him and which obliged him to travel almost constantly every winter that we passed in america; to his personal exertions, indeed, our final safety is mainly to be attributed. and here i must be permitted to pay the tribute due to the fidelity, exertion and uniform good conduct in the most trying situations of john hepburn, an english seaman and our only attendant, to whom in the latter part of our journey we owe, under divine providence, the preservation of the lives of some of the party. (*footnote. given in the appendix to the quarto edition.) i ought perhaps to crave the reader's indulgence towards the defective style of this work, which i trust will not be refused when it is considered that mine has been a life of constant employment in my profession from a very early age. i have been prompted to venture upon the task solely by an imperious sense of duty when called upon to undertake it. in the ensuing narrative the notices of the moral condition of the indians as influenced by the conduct of the traders towards them refer entirely to the state in which it existed during our progress through the country; but lest i should have been mistaken respecting the views of the hudson's bay company on these points i gladly embrace the opportunity which a second edition affords me of stating that the junction of the two companies has enabled the directors to put in practice the improvements which i have reason to believe they had long contemplated. they have provided for religious instruction by the appointment of two clergymen of the established church under whose direction schoolmasters and mistresses are to be placed at such stations as afford the means of support for the establishment of schools. the offspring of the voyagers and labourers are to be educated chiefly at the expense of the company; and such of the indian children as their parents may wish to send to these schools are to be instructed, clothed, and maintained at the expense of the church missionary society which has already allotted a considerable sum for these purposes and has also sent out teachers who are to act under the superintendence of the reverend mr. west, the principal chaplain of the company. we had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman at york factory, and witnessed with peculiar delight that great benefit which already marked his zealous and judicious conduct. many of the traders and of the servants of the company had been induced to marry the women with whom they had cohabited; a material step towards the improvement of the females in that country. mr. west, under the sanction of the directors, has also promoted a subscription for the distribution of the bible in every part of the country where the company's fur trade has extended, and which has met with very general support from the resident chief factors, traders, and clerks. the directors of the company are continuing to reduce the distribution of spirits gradually among the indians, as well as towards their own servants, with a view to the entire disuse of them as soon as this most desirable object can be accomplished. they have likewise issued orders for the cultivation of the ground at each of the posts, by which means the residents will be far less exposed to famine whenever, through the scarcity of animals, the sickness of the indians, or any other cause, their supply of meat may fail. it is to be hoped that intentions, so dear to every humane and pious mind, will, through the blessing of god, meet with the utmost success. ... franklin's journey to the polar sea. chapter 1. departure from england. transactions at stromness. enter davis straits. perilous situation on the shore of resolution island. land on the coast of labrador. esquimaux of savage islands. york factory. preparations for the journey into the interior. departure from england. may, 1819. on sunday the 23rd of may the whole of our party embarked at gravesend on board the ship prince of wales, belonging to the hudson's bay company, just as she was in the act of getting under weigh with her consorts the eddystone and wear. the wind being unfavourable on the ebb tide being finished, the vessels were again anchored; but they weighed in the night and beat down as far as the warp, where they were detained two days by a strong easterly wind. having learned from some of the passengers, who were the trading officers of the company, that the arrival of the ships at either of the establishments in hudson's bay gives full occupation to all the boatmen in their service, who are required to convey the necessary stores to the different posts in the interior; that it was very probable a sufficient number of men might not be procured from this indispensable duty; and, considering that any delay at york factory would materially retard our future operations, i wrote to the under secretary of state requesting his permission to provide a few well-qualified steersmen and bowmen at stromness to assist our proceedings in the former part of our journey into the interior. may 30. the easterly wind, which had retarded the ship's progress so much that we had only reached hollesley bay after a week's beating about, changed to west-south-west soon after that anchorage had been gained. the vessels instantly weighed and, by carrying all sail, arrived in yarmouth roads at seven p.m.; the pilots were landed and our course was continued through the anchorage. at midnight the wind became light and variable and gradually drew round to the north-west and, as the sky indicated unsettled weather and the wind blew from an unfavourable quarter for ships upon that coast, the commander bore up again for yarmouth and anchored at eight a.m. this return afforded us at least the opportunity of comparing the longitude of yarmouth church, as shown by our chronometers, with its position as laid down by the ordnance trigonometrical survey; and it was satisfactory to find, from the small difference in their results, that the chronometers had not experienced any alteration in their rates in consequence of their being changed from a horizontal position in a room to that of being carried in the pocket. an untoward circumstance while at this anchorage cast a damp on our party at this early period of the voyage. emboldened by the decided appearance of the north-west sky, several of our officers and passengers ventured on shore for a few hours; but we had not been long in the town before the wind changed suddenly to south-east, which caused instant motion in the large fleet collected at this anchorage. the commander of our ship intimated his intention of proceeding to sea by firing guns; and the passengers hastened to embark. mr. back however had unfortunately gone upon some business to a house two or three miles distant from yarmouth along the line of the coast; from whence he expected to be able to observe the first symptoms of moving which the vessels might make. by some accident however he did not make his appearance before the captain was obliged to make sail that he might get the ships through the intricate passage of the cockle gat before it was dark. fortunately, through the kindness of lieutenant hewit of the protector, i was enabled to convey a note to our missing companion, desiring him to proceed immediately by the coach to the pentland firth, and from thence across the passage to stromness, which appeared to be the only way of proceeding by which he could rejoin the party. transactions at stromness. june 3. the wind continuing favourable after leaving yarmouth, about nine this morning we passed the rugged and bold projecting rock termed johnny groat's house and soon afterwards duncansby head, and then entered the pentland firth. a pilot came from the main shore of scotland and steered the ship in safety between the different islands to the outer anchorage at stromness, though the atmosphere was too dense for distinguishing any of the objects on the land. almost immediately after the ship had anchored the wind changed to north-west, the rain ceased and a sight was then first obtained of the neighbouring islands and of the town of stromness, the latter of which from this point of view and at this distance presented a pleasing appearance. mr. geddes, the agent of the hudson's bay company at this place, undertook to communicate my wish for volunteer boatmen to the different parishes by a notice on the church door, which he said was the surest and most direct channel for the conveyance of information to the lower classes in these islands as they invariably attend divine service there every sunday. he informed me that the kind of men we were in want of would be difficult to procure on account of the very increased demand for boatmen for the herring fishery which had recently been established on the shores of these islands; that last year sixty boats and four hundred men only were employed in this service whereas now there were three hundred boats and twelve hundred men engaged; and that owing to this unexpected addition to the fishery he had been unable to provide the number of persons required for the service of the hudson's bay company. this was unpleasant information as it increased the apprehension of our being detained at york factory the whole winter if boatmen were not taken from hence. i could not therefore hesitate in requesting mr. geddes to engage eight or ten men well adapted for our service on such terms as he could procure them, though the secretary of state's permission had not yet reached me. next to a supply of boatmen our attention was directed towards the procuring of a house conveniently situated for trying the instruments and examining the rates of the chronometers. mr. geddes kindly offered one of his which, though in an unfinished state, was readily accepted, being well situated for our purpose as it was placed on an eminence, had a southern aspect, and was at a sufficient distance from the town to secure us from frequent interruption. another advantage was its proximity to the manse, the residence of the reverend mr. clouston, the worthy and highly respected minister of stromness whose kind hospitality and the polite attention of his family the party experienced almost daily during their stay. for three days the weather was unsettled and few observations could be made except for the dip of the needle which was ascertained to be 74 degrees 37 minutes 48 seconds, on which occasion a difference of eight degrees and a half was perceived between the observations when the face of the instrument was changed from the east to the west, the amount being the greatest when it was placed with the face to the west. but on the 8th a westerly wind caused a cloudless sky which enabled us to place the transit instrument in the meridian and to ascertain the variation of the compass to be 27 degrees 50 minutes west. the sky becoming cloudy in the afternoon prevented our obtaining the corresponding observations to those gained in the morning; and the next day an impervious fog obscured the sky until noon. on the evening of this day we had the gratification of welcoming our absent companion mr. back. his return to our society was hailed with sincere pleasure by everyone and removed a weight of anxiety from my mind. it appears that he had come down to the beach at caistor just as the ships were passing by and had applied to some boatmen to convey him on board, which might have been soon accomplished but they, discovering the emergency of his case, demanded an exorbitant reward which he was not at the instant prepared to satisfy; and in consequence they positively refused to assist him. though he had travelled nine successive days, almost without rest, he could not be prevailed upon to withdraw from the agreeable scene of a ballroom in which he joined us until a late hour. on the 10th, the rain having ceased, the observations for ascertaining the dip of the needle were repeated; and the results compared with the former ones gave a mean of 74 degrees 33 minutes 20 seconds. nearly the same differences were remarked in reversing the face of the instrument as before. an attempt was also made to ascertain the magnetic force but the wind blew too strong for procuring the observation to any degree of accuracy. the fineness of the following day induced us to set up the different instruments for examination and to try how nearly the observations made by each of them would agree; but a squall passed over just before noon, accompanied by heavy rain, and the hoped-for favourable opportunity was entirely lost. in the intervals between the observations, and at every opportunity, my companions were occupied in those pursuits to which their attention had been more particularly directed in my instructions. whilst dr. richardson was collecting and examining the various specimens of marine plants, of which these islands furnish an abundant and diversified supply, mr. back and mr. hood took views and sketches of the surrounding scenery which is extremely picturesque in many parts, and wants only the addition of trees to make it beautiful. the hills present the bold character of rugged sterility, whilst the valleys at this season are clothed with luxuriant verdure. it was not till the 14th that, by appointment, the boatmen were to assemble at the house of mr. geddes to engage to accompany the expedition. several persons collected but, to my great mortification, i found they were all so strongly possessed with the fearful apprehension either that great danger would attend the service, or that we should carry them further than they would agree to go, that not a single man would engage with us; some of them however said they would consider the subject and give me an answer on the following day. this indecisive conduct was extremely annoying to me especially as the next evening was fixed for the departure of the ships. at the appointed time on the following morning four men only presented themselves and these, after much hesitation, engaged to accompany the expedition to fort chipewyan if they should be required so far. the bowmen and steersmen were to receive forty pounds wages annually and the middle men thirty-five pounds. they stipulated to be sent back to the orkney islands free of expense and to receive their pay until the time of their arrival. only these few men could be procured although our requisition had been sent to almost every island, even as far as the northernmost point of ronaldsha. i was much amused with the extreme caution these men used before they would sign the agreement; they minutely scanned all our intentions, weighed every circumstance, looked narrowly into the plan of our route, and still more circumspectly to the prospect of return. such caution on the part of the northern mariners forms a singular contrast with the ready and thoughtless manner in which an english seaman enters upon any enterprise, however hazardous, without inquiring or desiring to know where he is going or what he is going about. the brig harmony, belonging to the moravian missionary society and bound to their settlement at nain on the coast of labrador, was lying at anchor. with the view of collecting some esquimaux words and sentences, or gaining any information respecting the manners and habits of that people, doctor richardson and myself paid her a visit. we found the passengers who were going out as missionaries extremely disposed to communicate; but as they only spoke the german and esquimaux languages, of which we were ignorant, our conversation was necessarily much confined; by the aid however of an esquimaux and german dictionary some few words were collected which we considered might be useful. there were on board a very interesting girl and a young man who were natives of disco in old greenland; both of them had fair complexions, rather handsome features, and a lively manner; the former was going to be married to a resident missionary and the latter to officiate in that character. the commander of the vessel gave me a translation of the gospel of st. john in the esquimaux language printed by the moravian society in london. june 16. the wind being unfavourable for sailing i went on shore with dr. richardson and took several lunar observations at the place of our former residence. the result obtained was latitude 58 degrees 56 minutes 56 seconds north; longitude 3 degrees 17 minutes 55 seconds west; variation 27 degrees 50 minutes west; dip of the magnetic needle 74 degrees 33 minutes 20 seconds. in the afternoon the wind changed in a squall some points towards the north and the prince of wales made the preparatory signal for sea. at three p.m. the ships weighed, an hour too early for the tide; as soon as this served we entered into the passage between hoy and pomona, and had to beat through against a very heavy swell which the meeting of a weather tide and a strong breeze had occasioned. some dangerous rocks lie near the pomona shore and on this side also the tide appeared to run with the greatest strength. on clearing the outward projecting points of hoy and pomona we entered at once into the atlantic and commenced our voyage to hudson's bay, having the eddystone, wear and harmony, missionary brig, in company. the comparisons of the chronometers this day indicated that arnold's numbers 2148 and 2147 had slightly changed their rates since they had been brought on board; fortunately the rate of the former seems to have increased nearly in the same ratio as the other has lost, and the mean longitude will not be materially affected. being now fairly launched into the atlantic i issued a general memorandum for the guidance of the officers during the prosecution of the service on which we were engaged, and communicated to them the several points of information that were expected from us by my instructions. i also furnished them with copies of the signals which had been agreed upon between lieutenant parry and myself to be used in the event of our reaching the northern coast of america and falling in with each other. at the end of the month of june our progress was found to have been extremely slow owing to a determined north-west wind and much sea. we had numerous birds hovering round the ship; principally fulmars (procellaria glacialis) and shearwaters (procellaria puffinus) and not unfrequently saw shoals of grampusses sporting about, which the greenland seamen term finners from their large dorsal fin. some porpoises occasionally appeared and whenever they did the crew were sanguine in their expectation of having a speedy change in the wind which had been so vexatiously contrary but they were disappointed in every instance. thursday, july 1. the month of july set in more favourably; and aided by fresh breezes we advanced rapidly to the westward, attended daily by numerous fulmars and shearwaters. the missionary brig had parted company on the 22nd of june. we passed directly over that part of the ocean where the sunken land of buss is laid down in the old, and continued in the admiralty charts. mr. bell, the commander of the eddystone, informed me that the pilot who brought his ship down the thames told him that he had gained soundings in twelve feet somewhere hereabout; and i am rather inclined to attribute the very unusual and cross sea we had in this neighbourhood to the existence of a bank than to the effect of a gale of wind which we had just before experienced; and i cannot but regret that the commander of the ship did not try for soundings at frequent intervals. enter davis straits. by the 25th july we had opened the entrance of davis straits and in the afternoon spoke the andrew marvell, bound to england with a cargo of fourteen fish. the master informed us that the ice had been heavier this season in davis straits than he had ever recollected, and that it lay particularly close to the westward, being connected with the shore to the northward of resolution island and extending from thence within a short distance of the greenland coast; that whales had been abundant but the ice so extremely cross that few could be killed. his ship, as well as several others, had suffered material injury, and two vessels had been entirely crushed between vast masses of ice in latitude 74 degrees 40 minutes north, but the crews were saved. we inquired anxiously but in vain for intelligence respecting lieutenant parry and the ships under his command; but as he mentioned that the wind had been blowing strong from the northward for some time, which would probably have cleared baffin's bay of ice, we were disposed to hope favourably of his progress. the clouds assumed so much the appearance of icebergs this evening as to deceive most of the passengers and crew; but their imaginations had been excited by the intelligence we had received from the andrew marvell that she had only parted from a cluster of them two days previous to our meeting. on the 27th, being in latitude 57 degrees 44 minutes 21 seconds north, longitude 47 degrees 31 minutes 14 seconds west and the weather calm, we tried our soundings but did not reach the bottom. the register thermometer was attached to the line just above the lead, and is supposed to have descended six hundred and fifty fathoms. a well-corked bottle was also fastened to the line two hundred fathoms above the lead and went down four hundred and fifty fathoms. the change in temperature shown by the register thermometer during the descent was from 52 to 40.5 degrees; and it stood at the latter point when taken out of the tin case. the temperature of the water brought up in the bottle was 41 degrees, being half a degree higher at four hundred and fifty than at six hundred and fifty fathoms and four degrees colder than the water at the surface which was then at 45 degrees, whilst that of the air was 46 degrees. this experiment in showing the water to be colder at a great depth than at the surface, and in proportion to the increase of the descent, coincides with the observations of captain ross and lieutenant parry on their late voyage to these seas, but is contrary to the results obtained by captain buchan and myself on our recent voyage to the north between spitzbergen and greenland, in which sea we invariably found the water brought from any great depth to be warmer than that at the surface. on the 28th we tacked to avoid an extensive stream of sailing ice. the temperature of the water fell to 39.5 degrees when we were near it, but was at 41 degrees when at the distance of half a mile. the thermometer in the air remained steadily at 40 degrees. thus the proximity of this ice was not so decidedly indicated by the decrease of the temperature of either the air or water as i have before witnessed, which was probably owing to the recent arrival of the stream at this point and its passing at too quick a rate for the effectual diffusion of its chilling influence beyond a short distance. still the decrease in both cases was sufficient to have given timely warning for a ship's performing any evolution that would have prevented the coming in contact with it had the thickness of the weather precluded a distant view of the danger. the approach to ice would be more evidently pointed out in the atlantic, or wherever the surface is not so continually chilled by the passing and the melting of ice as in this sea; and i should strongly recommend a strict hourly attention to the thermometrical state of the water at the surface in all parts where ships are exposed to the dangerous concussion of sailing icebergs, as a principal means of security. the following day our ship came near another stream of ice and the approach to it was indicated by a decrease of the temperature of the water at the surface from 44 to 42 degrees. a small pine-tree was picked up much shattered by the ice. in the afternoon of the 30th a very dense fog came on; and about six p.m. when sailing before a fresh breeze we were suddenly involved in a heavy stream of ice. considerable difficulty was experienced in steering through the narrow channels between the different masses in this foggy weather, and the ship received several severe blows. the water, as usual in the centre of the stream, was quite smooth, but we heard the waves beating violently against the outer edge of the ice. there was some earthy matter on several of the pieces, and the whole body bore the appearance of recent separation from the land. in the space of two hours we again got into the open sea, but had left our two consorts far behind; they followed our track by the guns we discharged. the temperature of the surface water was 35 degrees when amongst the ice, 38 degrees when just clear of it, and 41.5 degrees at two miles distant. on the 4th of august, when in latitude 59 degrees 58 minutes north, longitude 59 degrees 53 minutes west, we first fell in with large icebergs; and in the evening were encompassed by several of considerable magnitude, which obliged us to tack the ship in order to prevent our getting entangled amongst them. the estimated distance from the nearest part of the labrador coast was then eighty-eight miles; here we tried for soundings without gaining the bottom. the ship passed through some strong ripplings, which evidently indicated a current, but its direction was not ascertained. we found however by the recent observations that the ship had been set daily to the southward since we had opened davis straits. the variation of the compass was observed to be 52 degrees 41 minutes west. at nine p.m. brilliant coruscations of the aurora borealis appeared, of a pale ochre colour with a slight tinge of red, in an arched form, crossing the zenith from north-west to south-east, but afterwards they assumed various shapes and had a rapid motion. on the 5th of august a party of the officers endeavoured to get on one of the larger icebergs, but ineffectually, owing to the steepness and smoothness of its sides and the swell produced by its undulating motion. this was one of the largest we saw, and mr. hood ascertained its height to be one hundred and forty-nine feet; but these masses of ice are frequently magnified to an immense size through the illusive medium of a hazy atmosphere, and on this account their dimensions have often been exaggerated by voyagers. perilous situation on the shore of resolution island. in the morning of the 7th the island of resolution was indistinctly seen through the haze but was soon afterwards entirely hidden by a very dense fog. the favourable breeze subsided into a perfect calm and left the ship surrounded by loose ice. at this time the eddystone was perceived to be driving with rapidity towards some of the larger masses; the stern-boats of this ship and of the wear were despatched to assist in towing her clear of them. at ten a momentary clearness presented the land distinctly at the distance of two miles; the ship was quite unmanageable and under the sole governance of the currents which ran in strong eddies between the masses of ice. our consorts were also seen, the wear being within hail and the eddystone at a short distance from us. two attempts were ineffectually made to gain soundings, and the extreme density of the fog precluded us from any other means of ascertaining the direction in which we were driving until half-past twelve when we had the alarming view of a barren rugged shore within a few yards towering over the mastheads. almost instantly afterwards the ship struck violently on a point of rocks projecting from the island; and the ship's side was brought so near to the shore that poles were prepared to push her off. this blow displaced the rudder and raised it several inches but it fortunately had been previously confined by tackles. a gentle swell freed the ship from this perilous situation but the current hurried us along in contact with the rocky shore and the prospect was most alarming. on the outward bow was perceived a rugged and precipitous cliff whose summit was hid in the fog, and the vessel's head was pointed towards the bottom of a small bay into which we were rapidly driving. there now seemed to be no probability of escaping shipwreck, being without wind and having the rudder in its present useless state; the only assistance was that of a boat employed in towing which had been placed in the water between the ship and the shore at the imminent risk of its being crushed. the ship again struck in passing over a ledge of rocks and happily the blow replaced the rudder, which enabled us to take advantage of a light breeze and to direct the ship's head without the projecting cliff. but the breeze was only momentary and the ship was a third time driven on shore on the rocky termination of the cliff. here we remained stationery for some seconds and with little prospect of being removed from this perilous situation; but we were once more extricated by the swell from this ledge also and carried still farther along the shore. the coast became now more rugged and our view of it was terminated by another high projecting point on the starboard bow. happily, before we had reached it, a light breeze enabled us to turn the ship's head to seaward and we had the gratification to find, when the sails were trimmed, that she drew off the shore. we had made but little progress however when she was violently forced by the current against a large iceberg lying aground. our prospect was now more alarming than at any preceding period; and it would be difficult for me to portray the anxiety and dismay depicted on the countenances of the female passengers and children who were rushing on deck in spite of the endeavours of the officers to keep them below, out of the danger which was apprehended if the masts should be carried away. after the first concussion the ship was driven along the steep and rugged side of this iceberg with such amazing rapidity that the destruction of the masts seemed inevitable, and everyone expected we should again be forced on the rocks in the most disabled state; but we providentially escaped this perilous result, which must have been decisive. the dense fog now cleared away for a short time and we discovered the eddystone close to some rocks, having three boats employed in towing; but the wear was not visible. our ship received water very fast; the pumps were instantly manned and kept in continual use, and signals of distress were made to the eddystone, whose commander promptly came on board and then ordered to our assistance his carpenter and all the men he could spare together with the carpenter and boat's crew of the wear, who had gone on board the eddystone in the morning and were prevented from returning to their own vessel by the fog. as the wind was increasing and the sky appeared very unsettled it was determined the eddystone should take the ship in tow, that the undivided attention of the passengers and crew might be directed to pumping and clearing the holds to examine whether there was a possibility of stopping the leak. we soon had reason to suppose the principal injury had been received from a blow near the stern-post, and after cutting away part of the ceiling the carpenters endeavoured to stop the rushing in of the water by forcing oakum between the timbers; but this had not the desired effect and the leak, in spite of all our efforts at the pumps, increased so much that parties of the officers and passengers were stationed to bail out the water in buckets at different parts of the hold. a heavy gale came on, blowing from the land, as the night advanced; the sails were split, the ship was encompassed by heavy ice and, in forcing through a closely-connected stream, the tow-rope broke and obliged us to take a portion of the seamen from the pumps and appoint them to the management of the ship. fatigue indeed had caused us to relax in our exertions at the pumps during a part of the night of the 8th, and on the following morning upwards of five feet of water was found in the well. renewed exertions were now put forth by every person, and before eight a.m. the water was so much reduced as to enable the carpenters to get at other defective places; but the remedies they could apply were insufficient to repress the water from rushing in, and our labours could but just keep the ship in the same state throughout the day until six p.m.; when the strength of everyone began to fail the expedient of thrusting in felt, as well as oakum, was resorted to, and a plank nailed over all. after this operation a perceptible diminution in the water was made and, being encouraged by the change, we put forth our utmost exertion in bailing and pumping; and before night to our infinite joy the leak was so overpowered that the pumps were only required to be used at intervals of ten minutes. a sail covered with every substance that could be carried into the leaks by the pressure of the water was drawn under the quarter of the ship and secured by ropes on each side. as a matter of precaution in the event of having to abandon the ship, which was for some time doubtful, the elderly women and children were removed to the eddystone when the wind was moderate this afternoon, but the young women remained to assist at the pumps, and their services were highly valuable, both for their personal labour and for the encouragement their example and perseverance gave to the men. at daylight on the 9th every eye was anxiously cast around the horizon in search of the wear but in vain; and the recollection of our own recent peril caused us to entertain considerable apprehensions for her safety. this anxiety quickened our efforts to exchange our shattered sails for new ones that the ship might be got as speedily as possible near to the land, which was but just in sight, and a careful search be made for her along the coast. we were rejoiced to find that our leak did not increase by carrying sail, and we ventured in the evening to remove the sail which had been placed under the part where the injury had been received as it greatly impeded our advance. we passed many icebergs on the 10th and in the evening we tacked from a level field of ice which extended northward as far as the eye could reach. our leak remained in the same state; the pumps discharged in three minutes the quantity of water which had been received in fifteen. land on the coast of labrador. the ship could not be got near to the land before the afternoon of the 11th. at four p.m. we hove to, opposite to and about five miles distant from the spot on which we had first struck on saturday. every glass was directed along the shore (as they had been throughout the day) to discover any trace of our absent consort; but as none was seen our solicitude respecting her was much increased, and we feared the crew might be wrecked on this inhospitable shore. guns were frequently fired to apprise any who might be near of our approach; but as no one appeared and no signal was returned and the loose ice was setting down towards the ship we bore up to proceed to the next appointed rendezvous. at eight p.m. we were abreast of the south-west end of the island called cape resolution, which is a low point but indicated at a distance by a lofty round-backed hill that rises above it. we entered hudson's straits soon afterwards. the coast of resolution island should be approached with caution as the tides appear to be strong and uncertain in their course. some dangerous rocks lie above and below the water's edge at the distance of five or six miles from east bluff bearing south 32 degrees east. august 12. having had a fresh gale through the night we reached saddleback island by noon--the place of rendezvous; and looked anxiously but in vain for the wear. several guns were fired, supposing she might be hid from our view by the land; but as she did not appear captain davidson, having remained two hours, deemed further delay inexpedient and bore up to keep the advantage of the fair wind. the outline of this island is rugged; the hummock on its northern extremity appeared to me to resemble a decayed martello tower more than a saddle. azimuths were obtained this evening that gave the variation 58 degrees 45 minutes west, which is greater than is laid down in the charts, or than the officers of hudson's bay ships have been accustomed to allow. esquimaux of savage islands. we arrived abreast of the upper savage island early in the morning and, as the breeze was moderate, the ship was steered as near to the shore as the wind would permit to give the esquimaux inhabitants an opportunity of coming off to barter, which they soon embraced. their shouts at a distance intimated their approach some time before we descried the canoes paddling towards us; the headmost of them reached us at eleven; these were quickly followed by others, and before noon about forty canoes, each holding one man, were assembled around the two ships. in the afternoon when we approached nearer to the shore five or six larger ones containing the women and children came up. the esquimaux immediately evinced their desire to barter and displayed no small cunning in making their bargains, taking care not to exhibit too many articles at first. their principal commodities were oil, sea-horse teeth, whalebone, seal-skin dresses, caps and boots, deerskins and horns, and models of their canoes; and they received in exchange small saws, knives, nails, tin-kettles, and needles. it was pleasing to behold the exultation and to hear the shouts of the whole party when an acquisition was made by any one; and not a little ludicrous to behold the eagerness with which the fortunate person licked each article with his tongue on receiving it, as a finish to the bargain and an act of appropriation. they in no instance omitted this strange practice, however small the article; the needles even passed individually through the ceremony. the women brought imitations of men, women, animals, and birds, carved with labour and ingenuity out of sea-horse teeth. the dresses and the figures of the animals were not badly executed, but there was no attempt at the delineation of the countenances; and most of the figures were without eyes, ears and fingers, the execution of which would perhaps have required more delicate instruments than they possess. the men set most value on saws; kutteeswabak, the name by which they distinguish them, was a constant cry. knives were held next in estimation. an old sword was bartered from the eddystone and i shall long remember the universal burst of joy on the happy man's receiving it. it was delightful to witness the general interest excited by individual acquisitions. there was no desire shown by anyone to over-reach his neighbour, or to press towards any part of the ship where a bargain was making until the person in possession of the place had completed his exchange and removed; and if any article happened to be demanded from the outer canoes the men nearest assisted willingly in passing the thing across. supposing the party to belong to one tribe the total number of the tribe must exceed two hundred persons, as there were probably one hundred and fifty around the ships, and few of these were elderly persons or male children. their faces were broad and flat, the eyes small. the men were in general stout. some of the younger women and the children had rather pleasing countenances, but the difference between these and the more aged of that sex bore strong testimony to the effects which a few years produce in this ungenial climate. most of the party had sore eyes, all of them appeared of a plethoric habit of body; several were observed bleeding at the nose during their stay near the ship. the men's dresses consisted of a jacket of seal-skin, the trousers of bear-skin, and several had caps of the white fox-skin. the female dresses were made of the same materials but differently shaped, having a hood in which the infants were carried. we thought their manner very lively and agreeable. they were fond of mimicking our speech and gestures; but nothing afforded them greater amusement than when we attempted to retaliate by pronouncing any of their words. the canoes were of seal-skin and similar in every respect to those used by the esquimaux in greenland; they were generally new and very complete in their appointments. those appropriated to the women are of ruder construction and only calculated for fine weather; they are however useful vessels, being capable of containing twenty persons with their luggage. an elderly man officiates as steersman and the women paddle, but they have also a mast which carries a sail made of dressed whale-gut. when the women had disposed of all their articles of trade they resorted to entreaty; and the putting in practice many enticing gestures was managed with so much address as to procure them presents of a variety of beads, needles, and other articles in great demand among females. it is probable these esquimaux go from this shore to some part of labrador to pass the winter, as parties of them have been frequently seen by the homeward-bound hudson's bay ships in the act of crossing the strait. they appear to speak the same language as the tribe of esquimaux who reside near to the moravian settlements in labrador: for we perceived they used several of the words which had been given to us by the missionaries at stromness. towards evening the captain, being desirous to get rid of his visitors, took an effectual method by tacking from the shore; our friends then departed apparently in high glee at the harvest they had reaped. they paddled away very swiftly and would doubtless soon reach the shore though it was distant ten or twelve miles. not having encountered any of the ice which usually arrests the progress of ships in their outward passage through the straits, and being consequently deprived of the usual means of replenishing our stock of water which had become short, the captain resolved on going to the coast of labrador for a supply. dr. richardson and i gladly embraced this opportunity to land and examine this part of the coast. i was also desirous to observe the variation on shore as the azimuths which had been taken on board both ships since our entrance into the straits had shown a greater amount than we had been led to expect; but unluckily the sun became obscured. the beach consisted of large rolled stones of gneiss and sienite, amongst which many pieces of ice had grounded, and it was with difficulty that we effected a landing in a small cove under a steep cliff. these stones were worn perfectly smooth; neither in the interstices nor at the bottom of the water, which was very clear, were there any vestiges of seaweed. the cliff was from forty to fifty feet high and quite perpendicular, and had at its base a small slip of soil formed of the debris of a bed of clay-slate. from this narrow spot dr. richardson collected specimens of thirty different species of plants; and we were about to scramble up a shelving part of the rock and go into the interior when we perceived the signal of recall which the master had caused to be made in consequence of a sudden change in the appearance of the weather. on the evening of the 19th we passed digge's islands, the termination of hudson's strait. here the eddystone parted company, being bound to moose factory at the bottom of the bay. a strong north wind came on, which prevented our getting round the north end of mansfield; and as it continued to blow with equal strength for the next five days we were most vexatiously detained in beating along the labrador coast and near the dangerous chain of islands, the sleepers, which are said to extend from the latitude of 60 degrees 10 minutes to 57 degrees 00 minutes north. the press of sail which of necessity we carried caused the leak to increase and the pumps were kept in constant use. a favouring wind at length enabled us on the 25th to shape our course across hudson's bay. nothing worthy of remark occurred during this passage except the rapid decrease in the variation of the magnetic needle. the few remarks respecting the appearance of the land which we were able to make in our quick passage through these straits were transmitted to the admiralty; but as they will not be interesting to the general reader, and may not be sufficiently accurate for the guidance of the navigator, they are omitted in this narrative. york factory. on the 28th we discovered the land to the southward of cape tatnam, which is so extremely low that the tops of the trees were first discerned; the soundings at the time were seventeen fathoms, which gradually decreased to five as the shore was approached. cape tatnam is not otherwise remarkable than as being the point from which the coast inclines rather more to the westward towards york factory. the opening of the morning of the 30th presented to our view the anchorage at york flats, and the gratifying sight of a vessel at anchor, which we recognised after an anxious examination to be the wear. a strong breeze blowing from the direction of the flats caused the water to be more shallow than usual on the sandy bar which lies on the seaward side of the anchorage, and we could not get over it before two p.m. when the tide was nearly at its height. immediately after our arrival mr. williams, the governor of the hudson's bay company's posts, came on board accompanied by the commander of the wear. the pleasure we felt in welcoming the latter gentleman can easily be imagined when it is considered what reason we had to apprehend that he and his crew had been numbered with the dead. we learned that one of the larger masses of ice had providentially drifted between the vessel's side and the rocks just at the time he expected to strike, to which he secured it until a breeze sprang up and enabled him to pursue his voyage. preparations for the journey into the interior. the governor acquainted me that he had received information from the committee of the hudson's bay company of the equipment of the expedition, and that the officers would come out in their first ship. in the evening dr. richardson, mr. hood, and i accompanied him to york factory which we reached after dark; it is distant from the flats seven miles. early next morning the honour of a salute was conferred on the members of the expedition. having communicated to the governor the objects of the expedition, and that i had been directed to consult with him and the senior servants of the company as to the best mode of proceeding towards the execution of the service, i was gratified by his assurance that his instructions from the committee directed that every possible assistance should be given to forward our progress, and that he should feel peculiar pleasure in performing this part of his duty. he introduced me at once to messrs. charles, swaine, and snodie, masters of districts who, from long residence in the country, were perfectly acquainted with the different modes of travelling, and the obstructions which might be anticipated. at the desire of these gentlemen i drew up a series of questions respecting the points on which we required information; to which two days afterwards they had the kindness to return very explicit and satisfactory answers; and on receiving them i requested the governor to favour me with his sentiments on the same subject in writing, which he delivered to me on the following day. having learned that messrs. shaw, mctavish, and several other partners of the north-west company were under detention at this place we took the earliest opportunity of visiting them; when, having presented the general circular and other introductory letters with which i had been furnished by their agent mr. simon mcgillivray, we received from them the most friendly and full assurance of the cordial endeavours of the wintering partners of their company to promote the interests of the expedition. the knowledge we had now gained of the state of the violent commercial opposition existing in the country rendered this assurance highly gratifying; and these gentlemen added to the obligation by freely communicating that information respecting the interior of the country which their intelligence and long residence so fully qualified them to give. i deemed it expedient to issue a memorandum to the officers of the expedition strictly prohibiting any interference whatever in the existing quarrels, or any that might arise, between the two companies; and on presenting it to the principals of both the parties they expressed their satisfaction at the step i had taken. the opinions of all the gentlemen were so decidedly in favour of the route by cumberland house and through the chain of posts to the great slave lake that i determined on pursuing it, and immediately communicated my intention to the governor with a request that he would furnish me with the means of conveyance for the party as speedily as possible. it was suggested in my instructions that we might probably procure a schooner at this place to proceed north as far as wager bay; but the vessel alluded to was lying at moose factory, completely out of repair; independently of which the route directly to the northward was rendered impracticable by the impossibility of procuring hunters and guides on the coast. i found that, as the esquimaux inhabitants had left churchill a month previous to our arrival, no interpreter from that quarter could be procured before their return in the following spring. the governor however undertook to forward to us, next season, the only one amongst them who understood english, if he could be induced to go. the governor selected one of the largest of the company's boats for our use on the journey, and directed the carpenters to commence refitting it immediately; but he was only able to furnish us with a steersman; and we were obliged to make up the rest of the crew with the boatmen brought from stromness and our two attendants. york factory, the principal depot of the hudson's bay company, stands on the west bank of hayes river, about five miles above its mouth, on the marshy peninsula which separates the hayes and nelson rivers. the surrounding country is flat and swampy and covered with willows, poplars, larch, spruce, and birch-trees; but the requisition for fuel has expended all the wood in the vicinity of the fort and the residents have now to send for it to a considerable distance. the soil is alluvial clay and contains imbedded rolled stones. though the bank of the river is elevated about twenty feet it is frequently overflown by the spring floods, and large portions are annually carried away by the disruption of the ice which, grounding in the stream, have formed several muddy islands. these interruptions, together with the various collection of stones that are hid at high-water, render the navigation of the river difficult; but vessels of two hundred tons burden may be brought through the proper channels as high as the factory. the principal buildings are placed in the form of a square having an octagonal court in the centre; they are two storeys in height and have flat roofs covered with lead. the officers dwell in one portion of this square, and in the other parts the articles of merchandise are kept: the workshops, storehouses for the furs, and the servants' houses are ranged on the outside of the square, and the whole is surrounded by a stockade twenty feet high. a platform is laid from the house to the pier on the bank for the convenience of transporting the stores and furs, which is the only promenade the residents have on this marshy spot during the summer season. the few indians who now frequent this establishment belong to the swampy crees. there were several of them encamped on the outside of the stockade. their tents were rudely constructed by tying twenty or thirty poles together at the top, and spreading them out at the base so as to form a cone; these were covered with dressed moose-skins. the fire is placed in the centre and a hole is left for the escape of the smoke. the inmates had a squalid look and were suffering under the combined afflictions of the whooping-cough and measles; but even these miseries did not keep them from an excessive indulgence in spirits, which they unhappily can procure from the traders with too much facility; and they nightly serenaded us with their monotonous drunken songs. their sickness at this time was particularly felt by the traders, this being the season of the year when the exertion of every hunter is required to procure their winter's stock of geese, which resort in immense flocks to the extensive flats in this neighbourhood. these birds during the summer retire far to the north and breed in security; but when the approach of winter compels them to seek a more southern climate they generally alight on the marshes of this bay and fatten there for three weeks or a month before they take their final departure from the country. they also make a short halt at the same spots in their progress northwards in the spring. their arrival is welcomed with joy, and the goose hunt is one of the most plentiful seasons of the year. the ducks frequent the swamps all the summer. the weather was extremely unfavourable for celestial observations during our stay, and it was only by watching the momentary appearances of the sun that we were enabled to obtain fresh rates for the chronometers and allow for their errors from greenwich time. the dip of the needle was observed to be 79 degrees 29 minutes 07 seconds, and the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 11 degrees 3 minutes 40 seconds. a succession of fresh breezes prevented our ascertaining the intensity of the magnetic force. the position of york factory by our observations is in latitude 57 degrees 00 minutes 03 seconds north, longitude 92 degrees 26 minutes west. the variation of the compass 6 degrees 00 minutes 21 seconds east. chapter 2. passage up hayes, steel and hill rivers. cross swampy lake. jack river. knee lake and magnetic islet. trout river. holy lake. weepinapannis river. windy lake. white fall lake and river. echemamis and sea rivers. play green lakes. lake winnipeg. river saskatchewan. cross, cedar and pine island lakes. cumberland house. passage up hayes, steel, and hill rivers. september 1819. on the 9th of september, our boat being completed, arrangements were made for our departure as soon as the tide should serve. but when the stores were brought down to the beach it was found that the boat would not contain them all. the whole therefore of the bacon and part of the flour, rice, tobacco, and ammunition were returned into the store. the bacon was too bulky an article to be forwarded under any circumstances; but the governor undertook to forward the rest next season. in making the selection of articles to carry with us i was guided by the judgment of governor williams who assured me that tobacco, ammunition, and spirits could be procured in the interior, otherwise i should have been very unwilling to have left these essential articles behind. we embarked at noon and were honoured with a salute of eight guns and three cheers from the governor and all the inmates of the fort who had assembled to witness our departure. we gratefully returned their cheers and then made sail, much delighted at having now commenced our voyage into the interior of america. the wind and tide failing us at the distance of six miles above the factory, and the current being too rapid for using oars to advantage, the crew had to commence tracking, or dragging the boat by a line to which they were harnessed. this operation is extremely laborious in these rivers. our men were obliged to walk along the steep declivity of a high bank, rendered at this season soft and slippery by frequent rains, and their progress was often further impeded by fallen trees which, having slipped from the verge of the thick wood above, hung on the face of the bank in a great variety of directions. notwithstanding these obstacles we advanced at the rate of two miles an hour, one-half of the crew relieving the other at intervals of an hour and a half. the banks of the river and its islands, composed of alluvial soil, are well covered with pines, larches, poplars, and willows. the breadth of the stream some distance above the factory is about half a mile, and its depth during this day's voyage varied from three to nine feet. at sunset we landed and pitched the tent for the night, having made a progress of twelve miles. a large fire was quickly kindled, supper speedily prepared and as readily despatched, when we retired with our buffalo robes on and enjoyed a night of sound repose. it may here be stated that the survey of the river was made by taking the bearings of every point with a pocket compass, estimating the distances, and making a connected eye-sketch of the whole. this part of the survey was allotted to messrs. back and hood conjointly: mr. hood also protracted the route every evening on a ruled map, after the courses and distances had been corrected by observations for latitude and longitude taken by myself as often as the weather would allow. the extraordinary talent of this young officer in this line of service proved of the greatest advantage to the expedition, and he continued to perform that duty until his lamented death with a degree of zeal and accuracy that characterised all his pursuits. the next morning our camp was in motion at five a.m., and we soon afterwards embarked with the flattering accompaniment of a fair wind: it proved however too light to enable us to stem the stream, and we were obliged to resume the fatiguing operation of tracking; sometimes under cliffs so steep that the men could scarcely find a footing, and not unfrequently over spots rendered so miry by the small streams that trickled from above as to be almost impassable. in the course of the day we passed the scene of a very melancholy accident. some years ago two families of indians, induced by the flatness of a small beach which lay betwixt the cliff and the river, chose it as the site of their encampment. they retired quietly to rest, not aware that the precipice, detached from the bank and urged by an accumulation of water in the crevice behind, was tottering to its base. it fell during the night and the whole party was buried under its ruins. the length of our voyage today was in a direct line sixteen miles and a quarter on a south-south-west course. we encamped soon after sunset and the tent was scarcely pitched when a heavy rain began, which continued all night. sixteen miles on the 11th and five on the following morning brought us to the commencement of hayes river which is formed by the confluence of the shamattawa and steel rivers. our observations place this spot in latitude 56 degrees 22 minutes 32 seconds north, longitude 93 degrees 1 minute 37 seconds west. it is forty-eight miles and a half from york factory including the windings of the river. steel river, through which our course lay, is about three hundred yards wide at its mouth; its banks have more elevation than those of hayes river, but they shelve more gradually down to the stream and afford a tolerably good towing path, which compensates in some degree for the rapids and frequent shoals that impede its navigation. we succeeded in getting about ten miles above the mouth of the river before the close of day compelled us to disembark. we made an effort on the morning of the 13th to stem the current under sail but, as the course of the river was very serpentine, we found that greater progress could be made by tracking. steel river presents much beautiful scenery; it winds through a narrow but well wooded valley which at every turn disclosed to us an agreeable variety of prospect, rendered more picturesque by the effect of the season on the foliage, now ready to drop from the trees. the light yellow of the fading poplars formed a fine contrast to the dark evergreen of the spruce, whilst the willows of an intermediate hue served to shade the two principal masses of colour into each other. the scene was occasionally enlivened by the bright purple tints of the dogwood, blended with the browner shades of the dwarf birch and frequently intermixed with the gay yellow flowers of the shrubby cinquefoil. with all these charms the scene appeared desolate from the want of human species. the stillness was so great that even the twittering of the whiskey-johneesh, or cinereous crow caused us to start. our voyage today was sixteen miles on a south-west course. september 14. we had much rain during the night and also in the morning, which detained us in our encampment later than usual. we set out as soon as the weather cleared up and in a short time arrived at the head of steel river where it is formed by the junction of fox and hill rivers. these two rivers are nearly of equal width but the latter is the most rapid. mr. mcdonald, on his way to red river in a small canoe manned by two indians, overtook us at this place. it may be mentioned as a proof of the dexterity of the indians and the skill with which they steal upon their game that they had on the preceding day, with no other arms than a hatchet, killed two deer, a hawk, a curlew, and a sturgeon. three of the company's boats joined us in the course of the morning and we pursued our course up hill river in company. the water in this river was so low and the rapids so bad that we were obliged several times in the course of the day to jump into the water and assist in lifting the boat over the large stones which impeded the navigation. the length of our voyage today was only six miles and three-quarters. the four boats commenced operations together at five o'clock the following morning but, our boat being overladen, we soon found that we were unable to keep pace with the others; and therefore proposed to the gentlemen in charge of the company's boats that they should relieve us of part of our cargo. this they declined doing under the plea of not having received orders to that effect, notwithstanding that the circular with which i was furnished by governor williams strictly enjoined all the company's servants to afford us every assistance. in consequence of this refusal we dropped behind, and our steersman, who was inexperienced, being thus deprived of the advantage of observing the route followed by the guide, who was in the foremost boat, frequently took a wrong channel. the tow-line broke twice and the boat was only prevented from going broadside down the stream and breaking to pieces against the stones by the officers and men leaping into the water and holding her head to the current until the line could be carried again to the shore. it is but justice to say that in these trying situations we received much assistance from mr. thomas swaine who with great kindness waited for us with the boat under his charge at such places as he apprehended would be most difficult to pass. we encamped at sunset, completely jaded with toil. our distance made good this day was twelve miles and a quarter. the labours of the 16th commenced at half-past five, and for some time the difficulty of getting the boats over the rapids was equal to what we experienced the day before. having passed a small brook however, termed halfway creek, the river became deeper and although rapid it was smooth enough to be named by our orkney boatmen stillwater. we were further relieved by the company's clerks consenting to take a few boxes of our stores into their boats. still we made only eleven miles in the course of the day. the banks of hill river are higher and have a more broken outline than those of steel or hayes rivers. the cliffs of alluvial clay rose in some places to the height of eighty or ninety feet above the stream and were surmounted by hills about two hundred feet high, but the thickness of the wood prevented us from seeing far beyond the mere banks of the river. september 17. about half-past five in the morning we commenced tracking and soon came to a ridge of rock which extended across the stream. from this place the boat was dragged up several narrow rocky channels until we came to the rock portage where the stream, pent in by a range of small islands, forms several cascades. in ascending the river the boats with their cargoes are carried over one of the islands, but in the descent they are shot down the most shelving of the cascades. having performed the operations of carrying, launching, and restowing the cargo we plied the oars for a short distance and landed at a depot called rock house. here we were informed that the rapids in the upper parts of hill river were much worse and more numerous than those we had passed, particularly in the present season owing to the unusual lowness of the water. this intelligence was very mortifying, especially as the gentlemen in charge of the company's boats declared that they were unable to carry any part of our stores beyond this place; and the traders, guides, and most experienced of the boatmen were of opinion that, unless our boat was still further lightened, the winter would put a stop to our progress before we could reach cumberland house or any eligible post. sixteen pieces we therefore necessarily left with mr. bunn, the gentleman in charge of the post, to be forwarded by the athabasca canoes next season, this being their place of rendezvous. after this we recommenced our voyage and, having pulled nearly a mile, arrived at borrowick's fall, where the boat was dragged up with a line after part of the cargo had been carried over a small portage. from this place to the mud portage, a distance of a mile and three-quarters, the boats were pushed on with poles against a very rapid stream. here we encamped, having come seven miles during the day on a south-west course. we had several snow showers in the course of the day and the thermometer at bedtime stood at 30 degrees. on the morning of the 18th the country was clothed in the livery of winter, a heavy fall of snow having taken place during the night. we embarked at the usual hour and in the course of the day crossed the point of rocks and brassa portages and dragged the boats through several minor rapids. in this tedious way we only made good about nine miles. on sunday the 19th we hauled the boats up several short rapids or, as the boatmen term them, expressively enough, spouts, and carried them over the portages of lower burntwood and morgan's rocks, on the latter of which we encamped, having proceeded during the whole day only one mile and three-quarters. the upper part of hill river swells out considerably, and at morgan's rocks where it is three-quarters of a mile wide we were gratified with a more extensive prospect of the country than any we had enjoyed since leaving york factory. the banks of the river here, consisting of low flat rocks with intermediate swamps, permitted us to obtain views of the interior, the surface of which is broken into a multitude of cone-shaped hills. the highest of these hills, which gives a name to the river, has an elevation not exceeding six hundred feet. from its summit thirty-six lakes are said to be visible. the beauty of the scenery, dressed in the tints of autumn, called forth our admiration and was the subject of mr. hood's accurate pencil. on the 20th we passed upper burntwood and rocky ledge portages besides several strong spouts; and in the evening arrived at smooth rock portage where we encamped, having come three miles and a half. it is not easy for any but an eye-witness to form an adequate idea of the exertions of the orkney boatmen in the navigation of this river. the necessity they are under of frequently jumping into the water to lift the boats over the rocks compels them to remain the whole day in wet clothes at a season when the temperature is far below the freezing-point. the immense loads too which they carry over the portages is not more a matter of surprise than the alacrity with which they perform these laborious duties. cross swampy lake. at six on the morning of the 21st we left our encampment and soon after arrived at the mossy portage where the cargoes were carried through a deep bog for a quarter of a mile. the river swells out above this portage to the breadth of several miles and as the islands are numerous there are a great variety of channels. night overtook us before we arrived at the second portage, so named from its being the second in the passage down the river. our whole distance this day was one mile and a quarter. on the 22nd our route led us amongst many wooded islands which, lying in long vistas, produced scenes of much beauty. in the course of the day we crossed the upper portage, surmounted the devil's landing place, and urged the boat with poles through groundwater creek. at the upper end of this creek, our bowman having given the boat too great a sheer to avoid a rock, it was caught on the broadside by the current and in defiance of our utmost exertions hurried down the rapid. fortunately however it grounded against a rock high enough to prevent the current from oversetting it, and the crews of the other boats having come to our assistance we succeeded after several trials in throwing a rope to them with which they dragged our almost sinking vessel stern foremost up the stream and rescued us from our perilous situation. we encamped in the dusk of evening amidst a heavy thunderstorm, having advanced two miles and three-quarters. about ten in the morning of the 23rd we arrived at the dramstone which is hailed with pleasure by the boats' crews as marking the termination of the laborious ascent of hill river. we complied with the custom from whence it derives its name and soon after landing upon sail island prepared breakfast. in the meantime our boatmen cut down and rigged a new mast, the old one having been thrown overboard at the mouth of steel river, where it ceased to be useful. we left sail island with a fair wind and soon afterwards arrived at a depot situated on swampy lake where we received a supply of mouldy pemmican.* mr. calder and his attendant were the only tenants of this cheerless abode, and their only food was the wretched stuff with which they supplied us, the lake not yielding fish at this season. (*footnote. buffalo meat, dried and pounded and mixed with melted fat.) jack river. after a short delay at this post we sailed through the remainder of swampy lake and slept at the lower portage in jack river; the distance sailed today being sixteen miles and a half. jack river is only eight miles long but, being full of bad rapids, it detained us considerably. at seven in the morning of the 24th we crossed the long portage where the woods, having caught fire in the summer, were still smoking. this is a common accident owing to the neglect of the indians and voyagers in not putting out their fires, and in a dry season the woods may be seen blazing to the extent of many miles. we afterwards crossed the second, or swampy, portage and in the evening encamped on the upper portage, where we were overtaken by an indian bringing an answer from governor williams to a letter i had written to him on the 15th in which he renewed his injunctions to the gentlemen of the boats accompanying us to afford us every assistance in their power. the aurora borealis appeared this evening in form of a bright arch extending across the zenith in a north-west and south-east direction. the extent of our voyage today was two miles. knee lake and magnetic islet. about noon on the 25th we entered knee lake which has a very irregular form and near its middle takes a sudden turn from whence it derives its names. it is thickly studded with islands and its shores are low and well wooded. the surrounding country as far as we could see is flat, being destitute even of the moderate elevations which occur near the upper part of hill river. the weather was remarkably fine and the setting sun threw the richest tints over the scene that i remember ever to have witnessed. about half a mile from the bend, or knee, of the lake there is a small rocky islet composed of magnetic iron ore which affects the magnetic needle at a considerable distance. having received previous information respecting this circumstance we watched our compasses carefully and perceived that they were affected at the distance of three hundred yards both on the approach to and departure from the rock: on decreasing the distance they became gradually more and more unsteady and on landing they were rendered quite useless; and it was evident that the general magnetic influence was totally overpowered by the local attraction of the ore. when kater's compass was held near to the ground on the north-west side of the island the needle dipped so much that the card could not be made to traverse by any adjustment of the hand; but on moving the same compass about thirty yards to the west part of the islet the needle became horizontal, traversed freely, and pointed to the magnetic north. the dipping needle, being landed on the south-west point of the islet, was adjusted as nearly as possible on the magnetic meridian by the sun's bearings, and found to vibrate freely when the face of the instrument was directed to the east or west. the mean dip it gave was 80 degrees 37 minutes 50 seconds. when the instrument was removed from the north-west to the south-east point about twenty yards distant and placed on the meridian the needle ceased to traverse but remained steady at an angle of 60 degrees. on changing the face of the instrument so as to give a south-east and north-west direction to the needle it hung vertically. the position of the slaty strata of the magnetic ore is also vertical. their direction is extremely irregular, being much contorted. knee lake towards its upper end becomes narrower and its rocky shores are broken into conical and rounded eminences, destitute of soil, and of course devoid of trees. we slept at the western extremity of the lake, having come during the day nineteen miles and a half on a south-west course. trout river. we began the ascent of trout river early in the morning of the 27th and in the course of the day passed three portages and several rapids. at the first of these portages the river falls between two rocks about sixteen feet and it is necessary to launch the boat over a precipitous rocky bank. this cascade is named the trout fall, and the beauty of the scenery afforded a subject for mr. hood's pencil. the rocks which form the bed of this river are slaty and present sharp fragments by which the feet of the boatmen are much lacerated. the second portage in particular obtains the expressive name of knife portage. the length of our voyage today was three miles. holy lake. on the 28th we passed through the remainder of trout river; and at noon arrived at oxford house on holy lake. this was formerly a post of some consequence to the hudson's bay company but at present it exhibits unequivocal signs of decay. the indians have of late years been gradually deserting the low or swampy country and ascending the saskatchewan where animals are more abundant. a few crees were at this time encamped in front of the fort. they were suffering under whooping-cough and measles and looked miserably dejected. we endeavoured in vain to prevail on one of them to accompany us for the purpose of killing ducks which were numerous but too shy for our sportsmen. we had the satisfaction however of exchanging the mouldy pemmican obtained at swampy lake for a better kind, and received moreover a small but very acceptable supply of fish. holy lake, viewed from an eminence behind oxford house, exhibits a pleasing prospect; and its numerous islands, varying much in shape and elevation, contribute to break that uniformity of scenery which proves so palling to a traveller in this country. trout of a great size, frequently exceeding forty pounds' weight, abound in this lake. we left oxford house in the afternoon and encamped on an island about eight miles distant, having come during the day nine miles and a quarter. weepinapannis river. at noon on the 29th, after passing through the remainder of holy lake, we entered the weepinapannis, a narrow grassy river which runs parallel to the lake for a considerable distance and forms its south bank into a narrow peninsula. in the morning we arrived at the swampy portage where two of the boats were broken against the rocks. the length of the day's voyage was nineteen miles and a half. in consequence of the accident yesterday evening we were detained a considerable time this morning until the boats were repaired, when we set out and, after ascending a strong rapid, arrived at the portage by john moore's island. here the river rushes with irresistible force through the channels formed by two rocky islands; and we learned that last year a poor man, in hauling a boat up one of these channels, was, by the breaking of the line, precipitated into the stream and hurried down the cascade with such rapidity that all efforts to save him were ineffectual. his body was afterwards found and interred near the spot. the weepinapannis is composed of several branches which separate and unite again and again, intersecting the country in a great variety of directions. windy lake. we pursued the principal channel and, having passed the crooked spout with several inferior rapids and crossed a small piece of water named windy lake, we entered a smooth deep stream about three hundred yards wide which has got the absurd appellation of the rabbit ground. the marshy banks of this river are skirted by low barren rocks behind which there are some groups of stunted trees. as we advanced the country, becoming flatter, gradually opened to our view and we at length arrived at a shallow, reedy lake, the direct course through which leads to the hill portage. this route has however of late years been disused and we therefore turned towards the north and, crossing a small arm of the lake, arrived at hill gates by sunset; having come this day eleven miles. october 1. hill gates is the name imposed on a romantic defile whose rocky walls, rising perpendicularly to the height of sixty or eighty feet, hem in the stream for three-quarters of a mile, in many places so narrowly that there is a want of room to ply the oars. in passing through this chasm we were naturally led to contemplate the mighty but probably slow and gradual effects of the water in wearing down such vast masses of rock; but in the midst of our speculations the attention was excited anew to a grand and picturesque rapid which, surrounded by the most wild and majestic scenery, terminated the defile. the brown fishing-eagle had built its nest on one of the projecting cliffs. white fall lake and river. in the course of the day we surmounted this and another dangerous portage called the upper and lower hill gate portages, crossed a small sheet of water, termed the white fall lake and, entering the river of the same name, arrived at the white fall about an hour after sunset, having come fourteen miles on a south-west course. the whole of the 2nd of october was spent in carrying the cargoes over a portage of thirteen hundred yards in length and in launching the empty boats over three several ridges of rock which obstruct the channel and produce as many cascades. i shall long remember the rude and characteristic wildness of the scenery which surrounded these falls; rocks piled on rocks hung in rude and shapeless masses over the agitated torrents which swept their bases, whilst the bright and variegated tints of the mosses and lichens that covered the face of the cliffs, contrasting with the dark green of the pines which crowned their summits, added both beauty and grandeur to the scene. our two companions, back and hood, made accurate sketches of these falls. at this place we observed a conspicuous lop-stick, a kind of landmark which i have not hitherto noticed, notwithstanding its great use in pointing out the frequented routes. it is a pine-tree divested of its lower branches and having only a small tuft at the top remaining. this operation is usually performed at the instance of some individual emulous of fame. he treats his companions with rum and they in return strip the tree of its branches and ever after designate it by his name. in the afternoon, whilst on my way to superintend the operations of the men, a stratum of loose moss gave way under my feet and i had the misfortune to slip from the summit of a rock into the river betwixt two of the falls. my attempts to regain the bank were for a time ineffectual owing to the rocks within my reach having been worn smooth by the action of the water; but after i had been carried a considerable distance down the stream i caught hold of a willow by which i held until two gentlemen of the hudson's bay company came in a boat to my assistance. the only bad consequence of this accident was an injury sustained by a very valuable chronometer (number 1733) belonging to daniel moore, esquire, of lincoln's inn. one of the gentlemen to whom i delivered it immediately on landing in his agitation let it fall, whereby the minutehand was broken, but the works were not in the smallest degree injured and the loss of the hand was afterwards supplied. during the night the frost was severe; and at sunrise on the 3rd the thermometer stood at 25 degrees. after leaving our encampment at the white fall we passed through several small lakes connected with each other by narrow, deep, grassy streams, and at noon arrived at the painted stone. numbers of muskrats frequent these streams; and we observed in the course of the morning many of their mud-houses rising in a conical form to the height of two or three feet above the grass of the swamps in which they were built. the painted stone is a low rock, ten or twelve yards across, remarkable for the marshy streams which arise on each side of it, taking different courses. on the one side the watercourse which we had navigated from york factory commences. this spot may therefore be considered as one of the smaller sources of hayes river. echemamis and sea rivers. on the other side of the stone the echemamis rises and, taking a westerly direction, falls into nelson river. it is said that there was formerly a stone placed near the centre of this portage on which figures were annually traced and offerings deposited by the indians; but the stone has been removed many years and the spot has ceased to be held in veneration. here we were overtaken by governor williams who left york factory on the 20th of last month in an indian canoe. he expressed much regret at our having been obliged to leave part of our stores at the rock depot, and would have brought them up with him had he been able to procure and man a boat, or a canoe, of sufficient size. having launched the boats over the rock we commenced the descent of the echemamis. this small stream has its course through a morass and in dry seasons its channel contains, instead of water, merely a foot or two of thin mud. on these occasions it is customary to build dams that it may be rendered navigable by the accumulation of its waters. as the beavers perform this operation very effectually endeavours have been made to encourage them to breed in this place, but it has not hitherto been possible to restrain the indians from killing that useful animal whenever they discover its retreats. on the present occasion there was no want of water, the principal impediment we experienced being from the narrowness of the channel, which permitted the willows of each bank to meet over our heads and obstruct the men at the oars. after proceeding down the stream for some time we came to a recently-constructed beaver dam through which an opening was made sufficient to admit the boat to pass. we were assured that the breach would be closed by the industrious creature in a single night. we encamped about eight miles from the source of the river, having come during the day seventeen miles and a half. on the 4th we embarked amidst a heavy rain and pursued our route down the echemamis. in many parts of the morass by which the river is nourished and through which it flows, is intersected by ridges of rock which cross the channel and require the boat to be lifted over them. in the afternoon we passed through a shallow piece of water overgrown with bulrushes and hence named hairy lake; and in the evening encamped on the banks of blackwater creek, by which this lake empties itself into sea river; having come during the day twenty miles and three-quarters. on the morning of the 5th we entered sea river, one of the many branches of nelson river. it is about four hundred yards wide and its waters are of a muddy white colour. after ascending the stream for an hour or two and passing through carpenter's lake, which is merely an expansion of the river to about a mile in breadth, we came to the sea river portage where the boat was launched across a smooth rock to avoid a fall of four or five feet. play green lakes. reembarking at the upper end of the portage we ran before a fresh gale through the remainder of sea river, the lower part of play green lake and, entering little jack river, landed and pitched our tents. here there is a small log hut, the residence of a fisherman who supplies norway house with trout and sturgeon. he gave us a few of these fish which afforded an acceptable supper. our voyage this day was thirty-four miles. october 6. little jack river is the name given to a channel that winds among several large islands which separate upper and lower play green lakes. at the lower end of this channel big jack river, a stream of considerable magnitude, falls into the lake. play green is a translation of the appellation given to that lake by two bands of indians who met and held a festival on an island situated near its centre. after leaving our encampment we sailed through upper play green lake and arrived at norway point in the forenoon. lake winnipeg. the waters of lake winnipeg and of the rivers that run into it, the saskatchewan in particular, are rendered turbid by the suspension of a large quantity of white clay. play green lake and nelson river, being the discharges of the winnipeg, are equally opaque, a circumstance that renders the sunken rocks, so frequent in these waters, very dangerous to boats in a fresh breeze. owing to this one of the boats that accompanied us, sailing at the rate of seven miles an hour, struck upon one of these rocks. its mast was carried away by the shock but fortunately no other damage sustained. the indians ascribe the muddiness of these lakes to an adventure of one of their deities, a mischievous fellow, a sort of robin puck, whom they hold in very little esteem. this deity, who is named weesakootchaht, possesses considerable power but makes a capricious use of it and delights in tormenting the poor indians. he is not however invincible and was foiled in one of his attempts by the artifice of an old woman who succeeded in taking him captive. she called in all the women of the tribe to aid in his punishment, and he escaped from their hands in a condition so filthy that it required all the waters of the great lake to wash him clean; and ever since that period it has been entitled to the appellation of winnipeg, or muddy water. norway point forms the extremity of a narrow peninsula which separates play green and winnipeg lakes. buildings were first erected here by a party of norwegians who were driven away from the colony at red river by the commotions which took place some time ago. it is now a trading post belonging to the hudson's bay company. on landing at norway house we met with lord selkirk's colonists who had started from york factory the day before us. these poor people were exceedingly pleased at meeting with us again in this wild country; having accompanied them across the atlantic they viewed us in the light of old acquaintances. this post was under the charge of mr. james sutherland, to whom i am indebted for replacing a minutehand on the chronometer which was broken at the white fall, and i had afterwards the satisfaction of finding that it went with extraordinary regularity. the morning of the 7th october was beautifully clear and the observations we obtained place norway house in latitude 53 degrees 41 minutes 38 seconds north, and longitude 98 degrees 1 minute 24 seconds west; the variation of the magnetic needle 14 degrees 12 minutes 41 seconds east, and its dip 83 degrees 40 minutes 10 seconds. though our route from york factory has rather inclined to the south-west the dip, it will be perceived, has gradually increased. the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 7 degrees 39 minutes. there was too much wind to admit of our observing with any degree of accuracy the quantity of the magnetic force. we left norway house soon after noon and, the wind being favourable, sailed along the northern shore of lake winnipeg the whole of the ensuing night; and on the morning of the 8th landed on a narrow ridge of sand which, running out twenty miles to the westward, separates limestone bay from the body of the lake. when the wind blows hard from the southward it is customary to carry boats across this isthmus and to pull up under its lee. from norwegian point to limestone bay the shore consists of high clay cliffs against which the waves beat with violence during strong southerly winds. when the wind blows from the land and the waters of the lake are low a narrow sandy beach is uncovered and affords a landing-place for boats. the shores of limestone bay are covered with small fragments of calcareous stones. during the night the aurora borealis was quick in its motions and various and vivid in its colours. after breakfasting we reembarked and continued our voyage until three p.m., when a strong westerly wind arising we were obliged to shelter ourselves on a small island which lies near the extremity of the above-mentioned peninsula. this island is formed of a collection of small rolled pieces of limestone and was remembered by some of our boatman to have been formerly covered with water. for the last ten or twelve years the waters of the lake have been low, but our information did not enable us to judge whether the decrease was merely casual, or going on continually, or periodical. the distance of this island from norway house is thirty-eight miles and a half. river saskatchewan. the westerly winds detained us all the morning of the 9th but at two p.m. the wind chopped round to the eastward; we immediately embarked and the breeze afterwards freshening we reached the mouth of the saskatchewan at midnight having run thirty-two miles. sunday, october 10. the whole of this day was occupied in getting the boats from the mouth of the river to the foot of the grand rapid, a distance of two miles. there are several rapids in this short distance during which the river varies its breadth from five hundred yards to half a mile. its channel is stony. at the grand rapid the saskatchewan forms a sudden bend from south to east and works its way through a narrow channel deeply worn into the limestone strata. the stream, rushing with impetuous force over a rocky and uneven bottom, presents a sheet of foam and seems to bear with impatience the straightened confinement of its lofty banks. a flock of pelicans and two or three brown fishing-eagles were fishing in its agitated waters, seemingly with great success. there is a good sturgeon fishery at the foot of the rapid. several golden plovers, canadian grosbeaks, crossbills, woodpeckers and pin-tailed grouse were shot today; and mr. back killed a small striped marmot. this beautiful little animal was busily employed in carrying in its distended pouches the seeds of the american vetch to its winter hoards. the portage is eighteen hundred yards long and its western extremity was found to be in 53 degrees 08 minutes 25 seconds north latitude and 99 degrees 28 minutes 02 seconds west longitude. the route from canada to the athabasca joins that from york factory at the mouth of the saskatchewan, and we saw traces of a recent encampment of the canadian voyagers. our companions in the hudson's bay boats, dreading an attack from their rivals in trade, were on the alert at this place. they examined minutely the spot of encampment to form a judgment of the number of canoes that had preceded them; and they advanced, armed, and with great caution, through the woods. their fears however on this occasion were fortunately groundless. by noon on the 12th, the boats and their cargoes having been conveyed across the portage, we embarked and pursued our course. the saskatchewan becomes wider above the grand rapid and the scenery improves. the banks are high, composed of white clay and limestone, and their summits are richly clothed with a variety of firs, poplars, birches and willows. the current runs with great rapidity and the channel is in many places intricate and dangerous from broken ridges of rock jutting into the stream. we pitched our tents at the entrance of cross lake, having advanced only five miles and a half. cross, cedar and pine island lakes. cross lake is extensive, running towards the north-east it is said for forty miles. we crossed it at a narrow part and, pulling through several winding channels formed by a group of islands, entered cedar lake which, next to lake winnipeg, is the largest sheet of fresh water we had hitherto seen. ducks and geese resort hither in immense flocks in the spring and autumn. these birds are now beginning to go off owing to its muddy shores having become quite hard through the nightly frosts. at this place the aurora borealis was extremely brilliant in the night, its coruscations darting at times over the whole sky and assuming various prismatic tints of which the violet and yellow were predominant. after pulling, on the 14th, seven miles and a quarter on the lake, a violent wind drove us for shelter to a small island, or rather a ridge of rolled stones thrown up by the frequent storms which agitate this lake. the weather did not moderate the whole day and we were obliged to pass the night on this exposed spot. the delay however enabled us to obtain some lunar observations. the wind having subsided we left our resting place the following morning, crossed the remainder of the lake, and in the afternoon arrived at muddy lake which is very appropriately named as it consists merely of a few channels winding amongst extensive mudbanks which are overflowed during the spring floods. we landed at an indian tent which contained two numerous families amounting to thirty souls. these poor creatures were badly clothed and reduced to a miserable condition by the whooping-cough and measles. at the time of our arrival they were busy in preparing a sweating-house for the sick. this is a remedy which they consider, with the addition of singing and drumming, to be the grand specific for all diseases. our companions having obtained some geese in exchange for rum and tobacco, we proceeded a few more miles and encamped on devil's drum island, having come during the day twenty miles and a half. a second party of indians were encamped on an adjoining island, a situation chosen for the purpose of killing geese and ducks. on the 16th we proceeded eighteen miles up the saskatchewan. its banks are low, covered with willows, and lined with drift timber. the surrounding country is swampy and intersected by the numerous arms of the river. after passing for twenty or thirty yards through the willow thicket on the banks of the stream we entered an extensive marsh, varied only by a distant line of willows which marks the course of a creek or branch of the river. the branch we navigated today is almost five hundred yards wide. the exhalations from the marshy soil produced a low fog although the sky above was perfectly clear. in the course of the day we passed an indian encampment of three tents whose inmates appeared to be in a still more miserable condition than those we saw yesterday. they had just finished the ceremony of conjuration over some of their sick companions; and a dog which had been recently killed as a sacrifice to some deity was hanging to a tree where it would be left (i was told) when they moved their encampment. we continued our voyage up the river to the 20th with little variation of scenery or incident, travelling in that time about thirty miles. the near approach of winter was marked by severe frosts which continued all day unless when the sun chanced to be unusually bright and the geese and ducks were observed to take a southerly course in large flocks. on the morning of the 20th we came to a party of indians encamped behind the bank of the river on the borders of a small marshy lake for the purpose of killing waterfowl. here we were gratified with the view of a very large tent. its length was about forty feet, its breadth eighteen, and its covering was moose-deer leather with apertures for the escape of the smoke from the fires which are placed at each end; a ledge of wood was placed on the ground on both sides the whole length of the tent, within which were the sleeping-places, arranged probably according to families; and the drums and other instruments of enchantment were piled up in the centre. amongst the indians there were a great many half-breeds who led an indian life. governor williams gave a dram and a piece of tobacco to each of the males of the party. on the morning of the 21st a heavy fall of snow took place which lasted until two in the afternoon. in the evening we left the saskatchewan and entered the little river, one of the two streams by which pine island lake discharges its waters. we advanced today fourteen miles and a quarter. on the 22nd the weather was extremely cold and stormy and we had to contend against a strong head wind. the spray froze as it fell and the oars were so loaded with ice as to be almost unmanageable. the length of our voyage this day was eleven miles. cumberland house. the following morning was very cold; we embarked at daylight and pulled across a part of pine island lake about three miles and a half to cumberland house. the margin of the lake was so encrusted with ice that we had to break through a considerable space of it to approach the landing-place. when we considered that this was the effect of only a few days' frost at the commencement of winter we were convinced of the impractibility of advancing further by water this season, and therefore resolved on accepting governor williams' kind invitation to remain with him at this post. we immediately visited mr. connolly, the resident partner of the north-west company, and presented to him mr. mcgillivray's circular letter. he assured us that he should be most desirous to forward our progress by every means in his power, and we subsequently had ample proofs of his sincerity and kindness. the unexpected addition of our party to the winter residents at this post rendered an increase of apartments necessary; and our men were immediately appointed to complete and arrange an unfinished building as speedily as possible. november 8. some mild weather succeeded to the severe frosts we had at our arrival; and the lake had not been entirely frozen before the 6th; but this morning the ice was sufficiently firm to admit of sledges crossing it. the dogs were harnessed at a very early hour and the winter operations commenced by sending for a supply of fish from swampy river where men had been stationed to collect it just before the frost set in. both men and dogs appeared to enjoy the change; they started in full glee and drove rapidly along. an indian who had come to the house on the preceding evening to request some provision for his family, whom he represented to be in a state of starvation, accompanied them. his party had been suffering greatly under the epidemic diseases of whooping-cough and measles; and the hunters were still in too debilitated a state to go out and provide them with meat. a supply was given to him and the men were directed to bring his father, an old and faithful hunter, to the house, that he might have the comforts of nourishment and warmth. he was brought accordingly but these attentions were unavailing as he died a few days afterwards. two days before his death i was surprised to observe him sitting for nearly three hours, in a piercingly sharp day, in the saw-pit, employed in gathering the dust and throwing it by handfuls over his body, which was naked to the waist. as the man was in possession of his mental faculties i conceived he was performing some devotional act preparatory to his departure, which he felt to be approaching and, induced by the novelty of the incident, i went twice to observe him more closely; but when he perceived that he was noticed he immediately ceased his operation, hung down his head and, by his demeanour, intimated that he considered my appearance an intrusion. the residents at the fort could give me no information on the subject and i could not learn that the indians in general observe any particular ceremony on the approach of death. november 15. the sky had been overcast during the last week; the sun shone forth once only and then not sufficiently for the purpose of obtaining observations. faint coruscations of the aurora borealis appeared one evening but their presence did not in the least affect the electrometer or the compass. the ice daily became thicker in the lake and the frost had now nearly overpowered the rapid current of the saskatchewan river; indeed parties of men who were sent from both the forts to search for the indians and procure whatever skins and provisions they might have collected crossed that stream this day on the ice. the white partridges made their first appearance near the house, which birds are considered as the infallible harbingers of severe weather. monday, november 22. the saskatchewan and every other river were now completely covered with ice except a small stream not far from the fort through which the current ran very powerfully. in the course of the week we removed into the house our men had prepared since our arrival. we found it at first extremely cold notwithstanding that a good fire was kept in each apartment and we frequently experienced the extremes of heat and cold on opposite sides of the body. november 24. we obtained observations for the dip of the needle and intensity of the magnetic force in a spare room. the dip was 83 degrees 9 minutes 45 seconds and the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument 13 degrees 3 minutes 6 seconds. when the needle was faced to the west it hung nearly perpendicular. the aurora borealis had been faintly visible for a short time the preceding evening. some indians arrived in search of provision having been totally incapacitated from hunting by sickness; the poor creatures looked miserably ill and they represented their distress to have been extreme. few recitals are more affecting than those of their sufferings during unfavourable seasons and in bad situations for hunting and fishing. many assurances have been given me that men and women are yet living who have been reduced to feed upon the bodies of their own family to prevent actual starvation; and a shocking case was cited to us of a woman who had been principal agent in the destruction of several persons, and amongst the number her husband and nearest relatives, in order to support life. november 28. the atmosphere had been clear every day during the last week, about the end of which snow fell, when the thermometer rose from 20 degrees below to 16 degrees above zero. the aurora borealis was twice visible but faint on both occasions. its appearance did not affect the electrometer nor could we perceive the compass to be disturbed. the men brought supplies of moose meat from the hunter's tent which is pitched near the basquiau hill, forty or fifty miles from the house and whence the greatest part of the meat is procured. the residents have to send nearly the same distance for their fish and on this service horse-sledges are used. nets are daily set in pine island lake which occasionally procure some fine sturgeon, tittameg and trout, but not more than sufficient to supply the officers' table. december 1. this day was so remarkably fine that we procured another set of observations for the dip of the needle in the open air; the instrument being placed firmly on a rock the results gave 83 degrees 14 minutes 22 seconds. the change produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 12 degrees 50 minutes 55 seconds. there had been a determined thaw during the last three days. the ice on the saskatchewan river and some parts of the lake broke up and the travelling across either became dangerous. on this account the absence of wilks, one of our men, caused no small anxiety. he had incautiously undertaken the conduct of a sledge and dogs in company with a person going to swampy river for fish. on their return, being unaccustomed to driving, he became fatigued and seated himself on his sledge where his companion left him, presuming that he would soon rise and hasten to follow his track. he however returned safe in the morning and reported that, foreseeing night would set in before he could get across the lake, he prudently retired into the woods before dark where he remained until daylight, when the men who had been despatched to look for him met him returning to the house, shivering with cold, he having been unprovided with the materials for lighting a fire, which an experienced voyager never neglects to carry. we had mild weather until the 20th of december. on the 13th there had been a decided thaw that caused the saskatchewan, which had again frozen, to reopen and the passage across it was interrupted for two days. we now received more agreeable accounts from the indians who were recovering strength and beginning to hunt a little; but it was generally feared that their spirits had been so much depressed by the loss of their children and relatives that the season would be far advanced before they could be roused to any exertion in searching for animals beyond what might be necessary for their own support. it is much to be regretted that these poor men, during their long intercourse with europeans, have not been taught how pernicious is the grief which produces total inactivity, and that they have not been furnished with any of the consolations which the christian religion never fails to afford. this however could hardly have been expected from persons who have permitted their own offspring the half-casts to remain in lamentable ignorance on a subject of such vital importance. it is probable however that an improvement will soon take place among the latter class, as governor williams proposes to make the children attend a sunday school and has already begun to have divine service performed at his post. the conversations which i had with the gentlemen in charge of these posts convinced me of the necessity of proceeding during the winter into the athabasca department, the residents of which are best acquainted with the nature and resources of the country to the north of the great slave lake; and whence only guides, hunters and interpreters can be procured. i had previously written to the partners of the north-west company in that quarter requesting their assistance in forwarding the expedition and stating what we should require. but, on reflecting upon the accidents that might delay these letters on the road, i determined on proceeding to the athabasca as soon as i possibly could, and communicated my intention to governor williams and mr. connolly with a request that i might be furnished by the middle of january with the means of conveyance for three persons, intending that mr. back and hepburn should accompany me whilst dr. richardson and mr. hood remained till the spring at cumberland house. after the 20th of december the weather became cold, the thermometer constantly below zero. christmas day was particularly stormy but the gale did not prevent the full enjoyment of the festivities which are annually given at cumberland house on this day. all the men who had been despatched to different parts in search of provision or furs returned to the fort on the occasion and were regaled with a substantial dinner and a dance in the evening. january 1, 1820. the new year was ushered in by repeated discharges of musketry; a ceremony which has been observed by the men of both the trading companies for many years. our party dined with mr. connolly and were treated with a beaver which we found extremely delicate. in the evening his voyagers were entertained with a dance in which the canadians exhibited some grace and much agility; and they contrived to infuse some portion of their activity and spirits into the steps of their female companions. the half-breed women are passionately fond of this amusement but a stranger would imagine the contrary on witnessing their apparent want of animation. on such occasions they affect a sobriety of demeanour which i understand to be very opposite to their general character. january 10. this day i wrote to governor williams and mr. connolly requesting them to prepare two canoes with crews and appointments for the conveyance of dr. richardson and mr. hood, with our stores, to chipewyan as soon as the navigation should open, and had the satisfaction of receiving from both these gentlemen renewed assurances of their desire to promote the objects of the expedition. i conceived it to be necessary, previous to my departure, to make some arrangement respecting the men who were engaged at stromness. only one of them was disposed to extend his engagement and proceed beyond the athabasca lake and, as there was much uncertainty whether the remaining three could get from the athabasca to york factory sufficiently early to secure them a passage in the next hudson's bay ship, i resolved not to take them forward unless dr. richardson and mr. hood should fail in procuring other men from these establishments next spring, but to despatch them down to york to bring up our stores to this place: after which they might return to the coast in time to secure their passage in the first ship. i delivered to dr. richardson and mr. hood a memorandum containing the arrangements which had been made with the two companies respecting their being forwarded in the spring, and some other points of instruction for their guidance in my absence together with directions to forward the map of our route which had been finished, since our arrival, by mr. hood, the drawing and the collections of natural history by the first opportunity to york factory for conveyance to england.* (*footnote. as samuel wilks, who had accompanied the expedition from england, proved to be quite unequal to the fatigue of the journey i directed him to be discharged in the spring and sent to england by the next ship.) the houses of the two companies at this post are situated close to each other at the upper extremity of a narrow island which separates pine island lake from the saskatchewan river, and are about two miles and three-quarters from the latter in a northern direction. they are log-houses, built without much regard to comfort, surrounded by lofty stockades and flanked with wooden bastions. the difficulty of conveying glass into the interior has precluded its use in the windows where its place is poorly supplied by parchment, imperfectly made by the native women from the skin of the reindeer. should this post however continue to be the residence of governor williams it will be much improved in a few years, as he is devoting his attention to that point. the land around cumberland house is low but the soil, from having a considerable intermixture of limestone, is good and capable of producing abundance of corn and vegetables of every description. many kinds of pot-herbs have already been brought to some perfection and the potatoes bid fair to equal those of england. the spontaneous productions of nature would afford ample nourishment for all the european animals. horses feed extremely well even during the winter and so would oxen if provided with hay which might be easily done.* pigs also improve but require to be kept warm in the winter. hence it appears that the residents might easily render themselves far less dependent on the indians for support and be relieved from the great anxiety which they too often suffer when the hunters are unsuccessful. the neighbourhood of the houses has been much cleared of wood from the great demand for fuel; there is therefore little to admire in the surrounding scenery, especially in its winter garb; few animated objects occur to enliven the scene; an occasional fox, marten, rabbit or wolf and a few birds contribute the only variety. the birds which remained were ravens, magpies, partridges, crossbills and woodpeckers. in this universal stillness the residents at a post feel little disposed to wander abroad except when called forth by their occupations; and as ours were of a kind best performed in a warm room we imperceptibly acquired a sedentary habit. in going out however we never suffered the slightest inconvenience from the change of temperature though the thermometer in the open air stood occasionally thirty degrees below zero. (*footnote. the wild buffalo scrapes away the snow with its feet to get at the herbage beneath, and the horse, which was introduced by the spanish invaders of mexico and may be said to have become naturalised, does the same; but it is worthy of remark that the ox more lately brought from europe has not yet acquired an art so necessary for procuring its food. extract from dr. richardson's journal.) the tribe of indians who reside in the vicinity and frequent these establishments is that of the crees, or knisteneaux. they were formerly a powerful and numerous nation which ranged over a very extensive country and were very successful in their predatory excursions against their neighbours, particularly the northern indians and some tribes on the saskatchewan and beaver rivers; but they have long ceased to be held in any fear and are now perhaps the most harmless and inoffensive of the whole indian race. this change is entirely to be attributed to their intercourse with europeans; and the vast reduction in their numbers occasioned, i fear, principally by the injudicious introduction of ardent spirits. they are so passionately fond of this poison that they will make any sacrifice to obtain it. they are good hunters and in general active. having laid the bow and arrow altogether aside and the use of snares, except for rabbits and partridges, they depend entirely on the europeans for the means of gaining subsistence as they require guns and a constant supply of powder and shot; so that these indians are probably more completely under the power of the trader than any of the other tribes. as i only saw a few straggling parties of them during short intervals, and under unfavourable circumstances of sickness and famine, i am unable to give from personal observation any detail of their manners and customs; and must refer the reader to dr. richardson's account of them in the following chapter. that gentleman during his longer residence at the post had many opportunities of seeing them and acquiring their language. january 17. this morning the sporting part of our society had rather a novel diversion: intelligence having been brought that a wolf had borne away a steel trap in which he had been caught, a party went in search of the marauder and took two english bulldogs and a terrier which had been brought into the country this season. on the first sight of the animal the dogs became alarmed and stood barking at a distance, and probably would not have ventured to advance had they not seen the wolf fall by a shot from one of the gentlemen; they then however went up and behaved courageously, and were enraged by the bites they received. the wolf soon died of its wounds and the body was brought to the house where a drawing of it was taken by mr. hood and the skin preserved by dr. richardson. its general features bore a strong resemblance to many of the dogs about the fort, but it was larger and had a more ferocious aspect. mr. back and i were too much occupied in preparing for our departure on the following day to join this excursion. the position of cumberland house by our observations is latitude 53 degrees 56 minutes 40 seconds north; longitude 102 degrees 16 minutes 41 seconds west by the chronometers; variations 17 degrees 17 minutes 29 seconds east; dip of the needle 83 degrees 12 minutes 50 seconds. the whole of the travelling distance between york factory and cumberland house is about six hundred and ninety miles. chapter 3. dr. richardson's residence at cumberland house. his account of the cree indians. dr. richardson's residence at cumberland house. january 19, 1820. from the departure of messrs. franklin and back on the 19th of january for chipewyan until the opening of the navigation in the spring the occurrences connected with the expedition were so much in the ordinary routine of a winter's residence at fort cumberland that they may be perhaps appropriately blended with the following general but brief account of that district and its inhabitants. cumberland house was originally built by hearne, a year or two after his return from the copper-mine river, and has ever since been considered by the hudson's bay company as a post of considerable importance. previous to that time the natives carried their furs down to the shores of hudson's bay or disposed of them nearer home to the french canadian traders who visited this part of the country as early as the year 1697. the cumberland house district, extending about one hundred and fifty miles from east to west along the banks of the saskatchewan, and about as far from north to south, comprehends, on a rough calculation, upwards of twenty thousand square miles, and is frequented at present by about one hundred and twenty indian hunters. of these a few have several wives but the majority only one; and as some are unmarried we shall not err greatly in considering the number of married women as only slightly exceeding that of the hunters. the women marry very young, have a custom of suckling their children for several years, and are besides exposed constantly to fatigue and often to famine; hence they are not prolific, bearing upon an average not more than four children, of whom two may attain the age of puberty. upon these data the amount of each family may be stated at five, and the whole indian population in the district at five hundred. this is but a small population for such an extent of country, yet their mode of life occasionally subjects them to great privations. the winter of our residence at cumberland house proved extremely severe to the indians. the whooping-cough made its appearance amongst them in the autumn, and was followed by the measles which, in the course of the winter, spread through the tribe. many died and most of the survivors were so enfeebled as to be unable to pursue the necessary avocations of hunting and fishing. even those who experienced only a slight attack, or escaped the sickness altogether, dispirited by the scenes of misery which environed them, were rendered incapable of affording relief to their distressed relations and spent their time in conjuring and drumming to avert the pestilence. those who were able came to the fort and received relief, but many who had retired with their families to distant corners to pursue their winter hunts experienced all the horrors of famine. one evening early in the month of january a poor indian entered the north-west company's house, carrying his only child in his arms and followed by his starving wife. they had been hunting apart from the other bands, had been unsuccessful and, whilst in want, were seized with the epidemical disease. an indian is accustomed to starve and it is not easy to elicit from him an account of his sufferings. this poor man's story was very brief; as soon as the fever abated he set out with his wife for cumberland house, having been previously reduced to feed on the bits of skin and offal which remained about their encampment. even this miserable fare was exhausted and they walked several days without eating, yet exerting themselves far beyond their strength that they might save the life of the infant. it died almost within sight of the house. mr. connolly, who was then in charge of the post, received them with the utmost humanity and instantly placed food before them; but no language can describe the manner in which the miserable father dashed the morsel from his lips and deplored the loss of his child. misery may harden a disposition naturally bad but it never fails to soften the heart of a good man. his account of the cree indians. the origin of the crees, to which nation the cumberland house indians belong, is, like that of the other aborigines of america, involved in obscurity; but the researches now making into the nature and affinities of the languages spoken by the different indian tribes may eventually throw some light on the subject. indeed the american philologists seem to have succeeded already in classing the known dialects into three languages: 1. the floridean, spoken by the creeks, chickesaws, choctaws, cherokees, pascagoulas, and some other tribes who inhabit the southern parts of the united states. 2. the iroquois, spoken by the mengwe, or six nations, the wyandots, the nadowessies, and asseeneepoytuck. 3. the lenni-lenape, spoken by a great family more widely spread than the other two and from which, together with a vast number of other tribes, are sprung our crees. mr. heckewelder, a missionary who resided long amongst these people and from whose paper (published in the transactions of the american philosophical society) the above classification is taken, states that the lenape have a tradition amongst them of their ancestors having come from the westward and taken possession of the whole country from the missouri to the atlantic, after driving away or destroying the original inhabitants of the land whom they termed alligewi. in this migration and contest, which endured for a series of years, the mengwe, or iroquois, kept pace with them, moving in a parallel but more northerly line, and finally settling on the banks of the st. lawrence and the great lakes from whence it flows. the lenape, being more numerous, peopled not only the greater part of the country at present occupied by the united states, but also sent detachments to the northward as far as the banks of the river mississippi and the shores of hudson's bay. the principal of their northern tribes are now known under the names of saulteurs or chippeways, and crees; the former inhabiting the country betwixt lakes winnipeg and superior, the latter frequenting the shores of hudson's bay from moose to churchill, and the country from thence as far to the westward as the plains which lie betwixt the forks of the saskatchewan. the crees, formerly known by the french canadian traders under the appellation of knisteneaux, generally designate themselves as eithinyoowuc (men) or, when they wish to discriminate themselves from the other indian nations, as nathehwywithinyoowuc (southern-men).* (*footnote. much confusion has arisen from the great variety of names applied without discrimination to the various tribes of saulteurs and crees. heckewelder considers the crees of moose factory to be a branch of that tribe of the lenape which is named minsi, or wolf tribe. he has been led to form this opinion from the similarity of the name given to these people by monsieur jeremie, namely, monsonies; but the truth is that their real name is mongsoaeythinyoowuc, or moose-deer indians; hence the name of the factory and river on which it is built. the name knisteneaux, kristeneaux, or killisteneaux, was anciently applied to a tribe of crees, now termed maskegons, who inhabit the river winnipeg. this small tribe still retains the peculiarities of customs and dress for which it was remarkable many years ago, as mentioned by mr. henry in the interesting account of his journeys in these countries. they are said to be great rascals. the great body of the crees were at that time named opimmitish ininiwuc, or men of the woods. it would however be an endless task to attempt to determine the precise people designated by the early french writers. every small band naming itself from its hunting grounds was described as a different nation. the chippeways who frequented the lake of the woods were named from a particular act of pillage pilliers, or robbers: and the name saulteurs, applied to a principal band that frequented the sault st. marie, has been by degrees extended to the whole tribe. it is frequently pronounced and written sotoos.) the original character of the crees must have been much modified by their long intercourse with europeans; hence it is to be understood that we confine ourselves in the following sketch to their present condition, and more particularly to the crees of cumberland house. the moral character of a hunter is acted upon by the nature of the land he inhabits, the abundance or scarcity of food, and we may add, in the present case, his means of access to spiritous liquors. in a country so various in these respects as that inhabited by the crees the causes alluded to must operate strongly in producing a considerable difference of character amongst the various hordes. it may be proper to bear in mind also that we are about to draw the character of a people whose only rule of conduct is public opinion and to try them by a morality founded on divine revelation, the only standard that can be referred to by those who have been educated in a land to which the blessings of the gospel have extended. bearing these considerations in mind then we may state the crees to be a vain, fickle, improvident, and indolent race, and not very strict in their adherence to truth, being great boasters; but on the other hand they strictly regard the rights of property,* are susceptible of the kinder affections, capable of friendship, very hospitable, tolerably kind to their women, and withal inclined to peace. (*footnote. this is perhaps true of the cumberland house crees alone: many of the other tribes of crees are stated by the traders to be thieves.) much of the faulty part of their character no doubt originates in their mode of life; accustomed as a hunter to depend greatly on chance for his subsistence the cree takes little thought of tomorrow; and the most offensive part of his behaviour--the habit of boasting--has been probably assumed as a necessary part of his armour which operates upon the fears of his enemies. they are countenanced however in this failing by the practice of the ancient greeks, and perhaps by that of every other nation in its ruder state. every cree fears the medical or conjuring powers of his neighbour, but at the same time exalts his own attainments to the skies. "i am god-like," is a common expression amongst them, and they prove their divinity-ship by eating live coals and by various tricks of a similar nature. a medicine bag is an indispensable part of a hunter's equipment. it is generally furnished with a little bit of indigo, blue vitriol, vermilion, or some other showy article, and is, when in the hands of a noted conjurer, such an object of terror to the rest of the tribe that its possessor is enabled to fatten at his ease upon the labours of his deluded countrymen. a fellow of this description came to cumberland house in the winter of 1819. notwithstanding the then miserable state of the indians the rapacity of this wretch had been preying upon their necessities, and a poor hunter was actually at the moment pining away under the influence of his threats. the mighty conjurer, immediately on his arrival at the house, began to trumpet forth his powers, boasting among other things that, although his hands and feet were tied as securely as possible yet, when placed in a conjuring house, he would speedily disengage himself by the aid of two or three familiar spirits who were attendant on his call. he was instantly taken at his word and, that his exertions might not be without an aim, a capot or great coat was promised as the reward of his success. a conjuring-house having been erected in the usual form, that is by sticking four willows in the ground and tying their tops to a hoop at the height of six or eight feet, he was fettered completely by winding several fathoms of rope round his body and extremities and placed in its narrow apartment, not exceeding two feet in diameter. a moose-skin being then thrown over the frame secluded him from our view. he forthwith began to chant a kind of hymn in a very monotonous tone. the rest of the indians, who seemed in some doubt respecting the powers of a devil when put in competition with those of a white man, ranged themselves around and watched the result with anxiety. nothing remarkable occurred for a long time. the conjurer continued his song at intervals and it was occasionally taken up by those without. in this manner an hour and a half elapsed; but at length our attention, which had begun to flag, was roused by the violent shaking of the conjuring-house. it was instantly whispered round the circle that at least one devil had crept under the moose-skin. but it proved to be only the "god-like man" trembling with cold. he had entered the lists stripped to the skin and the thermometer stood very low that evening. his attempts were continued however with considerable resolution for half an hour longer, when he reluctantly gave in. he had found no difficulty in slipping through the noose when it was formed by his countrymen; but in the present instance the knot was tied by governor williams who is an expert sailor. after this unsuccessful exhibition his credit sunk amazingly, and he took the earliest opportunity of sneaking away from the fort. about two years ago a conjurer paid more dearly for his temerity. in a quarrel with an indian he threw out some obscure threats of vengeance which passed unnoticed at the time but were afterwards remembered. they met in the spring at carlton house after passing the winter in different parts of the country, during which the indian's child died. the conjurer had the folly to boast that he had caused its death and the enraged father shot him dead on the spot. it may be remarked however that both these indians were inhabitants of the plains and had been taught, by their intercourse with the turbulent stone indians, to set but comparatively little value on the life of a man. it might be thought that the crees have benefited by their long intercourse with civilised nations. that this is not so much the case as it ought to be is not entirely their own fault. they are capable of being and, i believe, willing to be, taught; but no pains have hitherto been taken to inform their minds,* and their white acquaintances seem in general to find it easier to descend to the indian customs and modes of thinking, particularly with respect to women, than to attempt to raise the indians to theirs. indeed such a lamentable want of morality has been displayed by the white traders in their contests for the interests of their respective companies that it would require a long series of good conduct to efface from the minds of the native population the ideas they have formed of the white character. notwithstanding the frequent violations of the rights of property they have witnessed and but too often experienced in their own persons, these savages, as they are termed, remain strictly honest. during their visits to a post they are suffered to enter every apartment in the house without the least restraint and, although articles of value to them are scattered about, nothing is ever missed. they scrupulously avoid moving anything from its place although they are often prompted by curiosity to examine it. in some cases indeed they carry this principle to a degree of self-denial which would hardly be expected. it often happens that meat which has been paid for (if the poisonous draught it procures them can be considered as payment) is left at their lodges until a convenient opportunity occurs of carrying it away. they will rather pass several days without eating than touch the meat thus entrusted to their charge, even when there exists a prospect of replacing it. (*footnote. since these remarks were written the union of the rival companies has enabled the gentlemen who have now the management of the fur trade to take some decided steps for the religious instruction and improvement of the natives and half-breed indians, which have been more particularly referred to in the introduction.) the hospitality of the crees is unbounded. they afford a certain asylum to the half-breed children when deserted by their unnatural white fathers; and the infirm, and indeed every individual in an encampment, share the provisions of a successful hunter as long as they last. fond too as a cree is of spiritous liquors he is not happy unless all his neighbours partake with him. it is not easy however to say what share ostentation may have in the apparent munificence in the latter article; for when an indian, by a good hunt, is enabled to treat the others with a keg of rum he becomes the chief of the night, assumes no little stateliness of manner, and is treated with deference by those who regale at his expense. prompted also by the desire of gaining a name they lavish away the articles they purchase at the trading posts and are well satisfied if repaid in praise. gaming is not uncommon amongst the crees of all the different districts, but it is pursued to greater lengths by those bands who frequent the plains and who, from the ease with which they obtain food, have abundant leisure. the game most in use amongst them, termed puckesann, is played with the stones of a species of prunus which, from this circumstance, they term puckesann-meena. the difficulty lies in guessing the number of stones which are tossed out of a small wooden dish and the hunters will spend whole nights at the destructive sport, staking their most valuable articles, powder and shot. it has been remarked by some writers that the aboriginal inhabitants of america are deficient in passion for the fair sex. this is by no means the case with the crees; on the contrary their practice of seducing each other's wives proves the most fertile source of their quarrels. when the guilty pair are detected the woman generally receives a severe beating, but the husband is for the most part afraid to reproach the male culprit until they get drunk together at the fort; then the remembrance of the offence is revived, a struggle ensues and the affair is terminated by the loss of a few handfuls of hair. some husbands however feel more deeply the injury done to their honour and seek revenge even in their sober moments. in such cases it is not uncommon for the offended party to walk with great gravity up to the other and, deliberately seizing his gun or some other article of value, to break it before his face. the adulterer looks on in silence, afraid to make any attempt to save his property. in this respect indeed the indian character seems to differ from the european that an indian, instead of letting his anger increase with that of his antagonist, assumes the utmost coolness lest he should push him to extremities. although adultery is sometimes punished amongst the crees in the manner above described yet it is no crime provided the husband receives a valuable consideration for his wife's prostitution. neither is chastity considered as a virtue in a female before marriage, that is before she becomes the exclusive property of one hunter. the cree women are not in general treated harshly by their husbands and possess considerable influence over them. they often eat and even get drunk in consort with the men; a considerable portion of the labour however falls to the lot of the wife. she makes the hut, cooks, dresses the skins, and for the most part carries the heaviest load: but when she is unable to perform her task the husband does not consider it beneath his dignity to assist her. in illustration of this remark i may quote the case of an indian who visited the fort in winter. this poor man's wife had lost her feet by the frost and he was compelled not only to hunt and do all the menial offices himself but in winter to drag his wife with their stock of furniture from one encampment to another. in the performance of this duty as he could not keep pace with the rest of the tribe in their movements he more than once nearly perished of hunger. these indians however, capable as they are of behaving thus kindly, affect in their discourse to despise the softer sex and on solemn occasions will not suffer them to eat before them or even come into their presence. in this they are countenanced by the white residents, most of whom have indian or half-breed wives but seem afraid of treating them with the tenderness or attention due to every female lest they should themselves be despised by the indians. at least this is the only reason they assign for their neglect of those whom they make partners of their beds and mothers of their children. both sexes are fond of and excessively indulgent to their children. the father never punishes them and if the mother, more hasty in her temper, sometimes bestows a blow or two on a troublesome child her heart is instantly softened by the roar which follows and she mingles her tears with those that streak the smoky face of her darling. it may be fairly said then that restraint or punishment forms no part of the education of an indian child, nor are they early trained to that command over their temper which they exhibit in after years. the discourse of the parents is never restrained by the presence of their children, every transaction between the sexes being openly talked of before them. the crees, having early obtained arms from the european traders, were enabled to make harassing inroads on the lands of their neighbours and are known to have made war excursions as far to the westward as the rocky mountains, and to the northward as far as mackenzie's river; but their enemies being now as well armed as themselves the case is much altered. they show great fortitude in the endurance of hunger and the other evils incident to a hunter's life; but any unusual accident dispirits them at once, and they seldom venture to meet their enemies in open warfare or to attack them even by surprise unless with the advantage of superiority of numbers. perhaps they are much deteriorated in this respect by their intercourse with europeans. their existence at present hangs upon the supplies of ammunition and clothing they receive from the traders and they deeply feel their dependent situation. but their character has been still more debased by the passion for spiritous liquors so assiduously fostered among them. to obtain the noxious beverage they descend to the most humiliating entreaties and assume an abjectness of behaviour which does not seem natural to them and of which not a vestige is to be seen in their intercourse with each other. their character has sunk among the neighbouring nations. they are no longer the warriors who drove before them the inhabitants of the saskatchewan and missinippi. the cumberland house crees in particular have been long disused to war. betwixt them and their ancient enemies, the slave nations, lie the extensive plains of saskatchewan, inhabited by the powerful asseeneepoytuck or stone indians who, having whilst yet a small tribe entered the country under the patronage of the crees, now render back the protection they received. the manners and customs of the crees have, probably since their acquaintance with europeans, undergone a change at least equal to that which has taken place in their moral character; and although we heard of many practises peculiar to them yet they appeared to be nearly as much honoured in the breach as the observance. we shall however briefly notice a few of the most remarkable customs. when a hunter marries his first wife he usually takes up his abode in the tent of his father-in-law and of course hunts for the family; but when he becomes a father the families are at liberty to separate or remain together as their inclinations prompt them. his second wife is for the most part the sister of the first but not necessarily so for an indian of another family often presses his daughter upon a hunter whom he knows to be capable of maintaining her well. the first wife always remains the mistress of the tent and assumes an authority over the others which is not in every case quietly submitted to. it may be remarked that whilst an indian resides with his wife's family it is extremely improper for his mother-in-law to speak or even look at him; and when she has a communication to make it is the etiquette that she should turn her back upon him and address him only through the medium of a third person. this singular custom is not very creditable to the indians if it really had its origin in the cause which they at present assign for it namely that a woman's speaking to her son-in-law is a sure indication of her having conceived a criminal affection for him. it appears also to have been an ancient practice for an indian to avoid eating or sitting down in the presence of the father-in-law. we received no account of the origin of this custom and it is now almost obsolete amongst the cumberland house crees, though still partially observed by those who frequent carlton. tattooing is almost universal with the crees. the women are in general content with having one or two lines drawn from the corners of the mouth towards the angles of the lower jaw; but some of the men have their bodies covered with a great variety of lines and figures. it seems to be considered by most rather as a proof of courage than an ornament, the operation being very painful and, if the figures are numerous and intricate, lasting several days. the lines on the face are formed by dextrously running an awl under the cuticle and then drawing a cord, dipped in charcoal and water, through the canal thus formed. the punctures on the body are formed by needles of various sizes set in a frame. a number of hawk bells attached to this frame serve by their noise to cover the suppressed groans of the sufferer and, probably for the same reason, the process is accompanied with singing. an indelible stain is produced by rubbing a little finely-powdered willow-charcoal into the punctures. a half-breed whose arm i amputated declared that tattooing was not only the most painful operation of the two but rendered infinitely more difficult to bear by its tediousness having lasted in his case three days. a cree woman at certain periods is laid under considerable restraint. they are far however from carrying matters to the extremities mentioned by hearne in his description of the chipewyans, or northern indians. she lives apart from her husband also for two months if she has borne a boy and for three if she has given birth to a girl. many of the cree hunters are careful to prevent a woman from partaking of the head of a moose-dear lest it should spoil their future hunts; and for the same reason they avoid bringing it to a fort, fearing lest the white people should give the bones to the dogs. the games or sports of the crees are various. one termed the game of the mitten is played with four balls, three of which are plain and one marked. these being hid under as many mittens the opposite party is required to fix on that which is marked. he gives or receives a feather according as he guesses right or wrong. when the feathers, which are ten in number, have all passed into one hand a new division is made, but when one of the parties obtains possession of them thrice he seizes on the stakes. the game of platter is more intricate and is played with the claws of a bear or some other animal marked with various lines and characters. these dice which are eight in number and cut flat at their large end are shook together in a wooden dish, tossed into the air and caught again. the lines traced on such claws as happen to alight on the platter in an erect position indicate what number of counters the caster is to receive from his opponent. they have however a much more manly amusement termed the cross although they do not engage even in it without depositing considerable stakes. an extensive meadow is chosen for this sport and the articles staked are tied to a post or deposited in the custody of two old men. the combatants, being stripped and painted and each provided with a kind of battledore or racket, in shape resembling the letter p with a handle about two feet long and a head loosely wrought with network so as to form a shallow bag, range themselves on different sides. a ball being now tossed up in the middle each party endeavours to drive it to their respective goals and much dexterity and agility is displayed in the contest. when a nimble runner gets the ball in his cross he sets off towards the goal with the utmost speed and is followed by the rest who endeavour to jostle him and shake it out; but, if hard pressed, he discharges it with a jerk, to be forwarded by his own party or bandied back by their opponents until the victory is decided by its passing the goal. of the religious opinions of the crees it is difficult to give a correct account, not only because they show a disinclination to enter upon the subject but because their ancient traditions are mingled with the information they have more recently obtained by their intercourse with europeans. none of them ventured to describe the original formation of the world but they all spoke of a universal deluge caused by an attempt of the fish to drown woesackootchacht, a kind of demigod with whom they had quarrelled. having constructed a raft he embarked with his family and all kinds of birds and beasts. after the flood had continued for some time he ordered several waterfowl to dive to the bottom; they were all drowned but a muskrat, having been despatched on the same errand, was more successful and returned with a mouthful of mud out of which woesackootchacht, imitating the mode in which the rats construct their houses, formed a new earth. first a small conical hill of mud appeared above the water; by and by, its base gradually spreading out, it became an extensive bank which the rays of the sun at length hardened into firm land. notwithstanding the power that woesackootchacht here displayed his person is held in very little reverence by the indians; and in return he seizes every opportunity of tormenting them. his conduct is far from being moral and his amours and the disguises he assumes in the prosecution of them are more various and extraordinary than those of the grecian jupiter himself; but as his adventures are more remarkable for their eccentricity than their delicacy it is better to pass them over in silence. before we quit him however we may remark that he converses with all kinds of birds and beasts in their own languages, constantly addressing them by the title of brother but, through an inherent suspicion of his intentions, they are seldom willing to admit of his claims of relationship. the indians make no sacrifices to him, not even to avert his wrath. they pay a kind of worship however and make offerings to a being whom they term kepoochikawn. this deity is represented sometimes by rude images of the human figure but more commonly merely by tying the tops of a few willow bushes together; and the offerings to him consist of everything that is valuable to an indian; yet they treat him with considerable familiarity, interlarding their most solemn speeches with expostulations and threats of neglect if he fails in complying with their requests. as most of their petitions are for plenty of food they do not trust entirely to the favour of kepoochikawn but endeavour at the same time to propitiate the animal, an imaginary representative of the whole race of larger quadrupeds that are objects of the chase. in the month of may whilst i was at carlton house the cree hunter engaged to attend that post resolved upon dedicating several articles to kepoochikawn and, as i had made some inquiries of him respecting their modes of worship, he gave me an invitation to be present. the ceremony took place in a sweating-house or, as it may be designated from its more important use, a temple which was erected for the occasion by the worshipper's two wives. it was framed of arched willows, interlaced so as to form a vault capable of containing ten or twelve men ranged closely side by side, and high enough to admit of their sitting erect. it was very similar in shape to an oven or the kraal of a hottentot and was closely covered with moose-skins except at the east end which was left open for a door. near the centre of the building there was a hole in the ground which contained ten or twelve red-hot stones having a few leaves of the taccohaymenan, a species of prunus, strewed around them. when the women had completed the preparations the hunter made his appearance, perfectly naked, carrying in his hand an image of kepoochikawn, rudely carved and about two feet long. he placed his god at the upper end of the sweating-house with his face towards the door and proceeded to tie round its neck his offerings, consisting of a cotton handkerchief, a looking-glass, a tin pan, a piece of riband, and a bit of tobacco which he had procured the same day at the expense of fifteen or twenty skins. whilst he was thus occupied several other crees who were encamped in the neighbourhood, having been informed of what was going on arrived and, stripping at the door of the temple, entered and ranged themselves on each side; the hunter himself squatted down at the right hand of kepoochikawn. the atmosphere of the temple having become so hot that none but zealous worshippers would venture in the interpreter and myself sat down on the threshold and the two women remained on the outside as attendants. the hunter who throughout officiated as high priest commenced by making a speech to kepoochikawn in which he requested him to be propitious, told him of the value of the things now presented, and cautioned him against ingratitude. this oration was delivered in a monotonous tone and with great rapidity of utterance, and the speaker retained his squatting posture but turned his face to his god. at its conclusion the priest began a hymn of which the burden was, "i will walk with god, i will go with the animal"; and at the end of each stanza the rest joined in an insignificant chorus. he next took up a calumet filled with a mixture of tobacco and bear-berry leaves and, holding its stem by the middle in a horizontal position over the hot stones, turned it slowly in a circular manner, following the course of the sun. its mouth-piece being then with much formality held for a few seconds to the face of kepoochikawn it was next presented to the earth, having been previously turned a second time over the hot stones; and afterwards with equal ceremony pointed in succession to the four quarters of the sky then, drawing a few whiffs from the calumet himself, he handed it to his left-hand neighbour by whom it was gravely passed round the circle; the interpreter and myself, who were seated at the door, were asked to partake in our turn but requested to keep the head of the calumet within the threshold of the sweating-house. when the tobacco was exhausted by passing several times round the hunter made another speech, similar to the former but was if possible still more urgent in his requests. a second hymn followed and, a quantity of water being sprinkled on the hot stones, the attendants were ordered to close the temple, which they did by very carefully covering it up with moose-skins. we had no means of ascertaining the temperature of the sweating-house; but before it was closed not only those within but also the spectators without were perspiring freely. they continued in the vapour bath for thirty-five minutes, during which time a third speech was made and a hymn was sung and water occasionally sprinkled on the stones which still retained much heat, as was evident from the hissing noise they made. the coverings were then thrown off and the poor half-stewed worshippers exposed freely to the air; but they kept their squatting postures until a fourth speech was made in which the deity was strongly reminded of the value of the gifts and exhorted to take an early opportunity of showing his gratitude. the ceremony concluded by the sweaters scampering down to the river and plunging into the stream. it may be remarked that the door of the temple and of course the face of the god was turned to the rising sun; and the spectators were desired not to block up entirely the front of the building but to leave a lane for the entrance or exit of some influence of which they could not give me a correct description. several indians, who lay on the outside of the sweating-house as spectators, seemed to regard the proceedings with very little awe and were extremely free in the remarks and jokes they passed upon the condition of the sweaters and even of kepoochikawn himself. one of them made a remark that the shawl would have been much better bestowed upon himself than upon kepoochikawn, but the same fellow afterwards stripped and joined in the ceremony. i did not learn that the indians worship any other god by a specific name. they often refer however to the keetchee-maneeto, or great master of life, and to an evil spirit, or maatche-maneeto. they also speak of weettako, a kind of vampire or devil into which those who have fed on human flesh are transformed. whilst at carlton i took an opportunity of asking a communicative old indian of the blackfoot nation his opinion of a future state; he replied that they had heard from their fathers that the souls of the departed have to scramble with great labour up the sides of a steep mountain, upon attaining the summit of which they are rewarded with the prospect of an extensive plain, abounding in all sorts of game and interspersed here and there with new tents pitched in agreeable situations. whilst they are absorbed in the contemplation of this delightful scene they are descried by the inhabitants of the happy land who, clothed in new skin-dresses, approach and welcome with every demonstration of kindness those indians who have led good lives, but the bad indians, who have imbrued their hands in the blood of their countrymen, are told to return from whence they came and, without more ceremony, precipitated down the steep sides of the mountain. women who have been guilty of infanticide never reach the mountain at all but are compelled to hover round the seats of their crimes with branches of trees tied to their legs. the melancholy sounds which are heard in the still summer evenings and which the ignorance of the white people considers as the screams of the goat-sucker are really, according to my informant, the moanings of these unhappy beings. the crees have somewhat similar notions but, as they inhabit a country widely different from the mountainous lands of the blackfoot indians, the difficulty of their journey lies in walking along a slender and slippery tree laid as a bridge across a rapid stream of stinking and muddy water. the night owl is regarded by the crees with the same dread that it has been viewed by other nations. one small species, which is known to them by its melancholy nocturnal hootings (for as it never appears in the day few even of the hunters have ever seen it) is particularly ominous. they call it the cheepai-peethees, or death bird, and never fail to whistle when they hear its note. if it does not reply to the whistle by its hootings the speedy death of the inquirer is augured. when a cree dies that part of his property which he has not given away before his death is burned with him, and his relations take care to place near the grave little heaps of firewood, food, pieces of tobacco, and such things as he is likely to need in his journey. similar offerings are made when they revisit the grave, and as kettles and other articles of value are sometimes offered they are frequently carried off by passengers, yet the relations are not displeased provided sufficient respect has been shown to the dead by putting some other article, although of inferior value, in the place of that which has been taken away. the crees are wont to celebrate the returns of the seasons by religious festivals but we are unable to describe the ceremonial in use on these joyous occasions from personal observation. the following brief notice of a feast which was given by an old cree chief according to his annual custom on the first croaking of the frogs is drawn up from the information of one of the guests. a large oblong tent or lodge was prepared for the important occasion by the men of the party, none of the women being suffered to interfere. it faced the setting sun and great care was taken that everything about it should be as neat and clean as possible. three fireplaces were raised within it at equal distances and little holes were dug in the corners to contain the ashes of their pipes. in a recess at its upper end one large image of kepoochikawn and many smaller ones were ranged with their faces towards the door. the food was prepared by the chief's wife and consisted of marrow pemmican, berries boiled with fat, and various other delicacies that had been preserved for the occasion. the preparations being completed and, a slave whom the chief had taken in war having warned the guests to the feast by the mysterious word peenasheway, they came, dressed out in their best garments, and ranged themselves according to their seniority, the elders seating themselves next the chief at the upper end and the young men near the door. the chief commenced by addressing his deities in an appropriate speech in which he told them that he had hastened as soon as summer was indicated by the croaking of the frogs to solicit their favour for himself and his young men, and hoped that they would send him a pleasant and plentiful season. his oration was concluded by an invocation to all the animals in the land and, a signal being given to the slave at the door, he invited them severally by their names to come and partake of the feast. the cree chief having by this very general invitation displayed his unbounded hospitality next ordered one of the young men to distribute a mess to each of the guests. this was done in new dishes of birch bark, and the utmost diligence was displayed in emptying them, it being considered extremely improper in a man to leave any part of that which is placed before him on such occasions. it is not inconsistent with good manners however but rather considered as a piece of politeness that a guest who has been too liberally supplied should hand the surplus to his neighbour. when the viands had disappeared each filled his calumet and began to smoke with great assiduity, and in the course of the evening several songs were sung to the responsive sounds of the drum and seeseequay, their usual accompaniments. the cree drum is double-headed but, possessing very little depth, it strongly resembles a tambourine in shape. its want of depth is compensated however by its diameter which frequently exceeds three feet. it is covered with moose-skin parchment, painted with rude figures of men and beasts having various fantastic additions, and is beat with a stick. the seeseequay is merely a rattle formed by enclosing a few grains of shot in a piece of dried hide. these two instruments are used in all their religious ceremonies except those which take place in a sweating-house. a cree places great reliance on his drum and i cannot adduce a stronger instance than that of the poor man who is mentioned in a preceding page as having lost his only child by famine, almost within sight of the fort. notwithstanding his exhausted state he travelled with an enormous drum tied to his back. many of the crees make vows to abstain from particular kinds of food either for a specific time or for the remainder of their life, esteeming such abstinence to be a certain means of acquiring some supernatural powers, or at least of entailing upon themselves a succession of good fortune. one of the wives of the carlton hunter, of whom we have already spoken as the worshipper of kepoochikawn, made a determination not to eat of the flesh of the wawaskeesh or american stag; but during our abode at that place she was induced to feed heartily upon it, through the intentional deceit of her husband who told her that it was buffalo meat. when she had finished her meal her husband told her of the trick and seemed to enjoy the terror with which she contemplated the consequences of the involuntary breach of her vow. vows of this nature are often made by a cree before he joins a war party, and they sometimes, like the eastern bonzes, walk for a certain number of days on all fours or impose upon themselves some other penance equally ridiculous. by such means the cree warrior becomes god-like; but unless he kills an enemy before his return his newly-acquired powers are estimated to be productive in future of some direful consequence to himself. as we did not witness any of the cree dances ourselves we shall merely mention that, like the other north american nations, they are accustomed to practice that amusement on meeting with strange tribes before going to war and on other solemn occasions. the habitual intoxication of the cumberland house crees has induced such a disregard of personal appearance that they are squalid and dirty in the extreme; hence a minute description of their clothing would be by no means interesting. we shall therefore only remark in a general manner that the dress of the male consists of a blanket thrown over the shoulders, a leathern shirt or jacket, and a piece of cloth tied round the middle. the women have in addition a long petticoat; and both sexes wear a kind of wide hose which, reaching from the ankle to the middle of the thigh, are suspended by strings to the girdle. these hose or, as they are termed, indian stockings, are commonly ornamented with beads or ribands, and from their convenience have been universally adopted by the white residents as an essential part of their winter clothing. their shoes, or rather short boots for they tie round the ankle, are made of soft dressed moose-skins, and during the winter they wrap several pieces of blanket round their feet. they are fond of european articles of dress, considering it as mean to be dressed entirely in leather, and the hunters are generally furnished annually with a capot or great coat, and the women with shawls, printed calicoes, and other things very unsuitable to their mode of life but which they wear in imitation of the wives of the traders; all these articles, however showy they may be at first, are soon reduced to a very filthy condition by the indian custom of greasing the face and hair with soft fat or marrow instead of washing them with water. this practice they say preserves the skin soft and protects it from cold in the winter and the mosquitoes in summer, but it renders their presence disagreeable to the olfactory organs of an european, particularly when they are seated in a close tent and near a hot fire. the only peculiarity which we observed in their mode of rearing children consists in the use of a sort of cradle extremely well adapted to their mode of life. the infant is placed in the bag having its lower extremities wrapped up in soft sphagnum or bog-moss, and may be hung up in the tent or to the branch of a tree without the least danger of tumbling out; or in a journey suspended on the mother's back by a band which crosses the forehead so as to leave her hands perfectly free. it is one of the neatest articles of furniture they possess, being generally ornamented with beads and bits of scarlet cloth, but it bears a very strong resemblance in its form to a mummy case. the sphagnum in which the child is laid forms a soft elastic bed which absorbs moisture very readily and affords such a protection from the cold of a rigorous winter that its place would be ill supplied by cloth. the mothers are careful to collect a sufficient quantity in autumn for winter use; but when through accident their stock fails they have recourse to the soft down of the typha, or reed mace, the dust of rotten wood, or even feathers, although none of these articles are so cleanly or so easily changed as the sphagnum. the above is a brief sketch of such parts of the manners, character and customs of the crees as we could collect from personal observation or from the information of the most intelligent half-breeds we met with; and we shall merely add a few remarks on the manner in which the trade is conducted at the different inland posts of the fur companies. the standard of exchange in all mercantile transactions with the natives is a beaver skin, the relative value of which as originally established by the traders differs considerably from the present worth of the articles it represents; but the indians are averse to change. three marten, eight muskrat, or a single lynx or wolverine skin, are equivalent to one beaver; a silver fox, white fox, or otter, are reckoned two beavers, and a black fox or large black bear are equal to four; a mode of reckoning which has very little connection with the real value of these different furs in the european market. neither has any attention been paid to the original cost of european articles in fixing the tariff by which they are sold to the indians. a coarse butcher's knife is one skin, a woollen blanket or a fathom of coarse cloth eight, and a fowling-piece fifteen. the indians receive their principal outfit of clothing and ammunition on credit in the autumn to be repaid by their winter hunts; the amount entrusted to each of the hunters varying with their reputations for industry and skill from twenty to one hundred and fifty skins. the indians are generally anxious to pay off the debt thus incurred but their good intentions are often frustrated by the arts of the rival traders. each of the companies keeps men constantly employed travelling over the country during the winter to collect the furs from the different bands of hunters as fast as they are procured. the poor indian endeavours to behave honestly and, when he has gathered a few skins, sends notice to the post from whence he procured his supplies but, if discovered in the meantime by the opposite party, he is seldom proof against the temptation to which he is exposed. however firm he may be in his denials at first his resolutions are enfeebled by the sight of a little rum and, when he has tasted the intoxicating beverage, they vanish like smoke and he brings forth his store of furs which he has carefully concealed from the scrutinising eyes of his visitors. this mode of carrying on the trade not only causes the amount of furs collected by either of the two companies to depend more upon the activity of their agents, the knowledge they possess of the motions of the indians, and the quantity of rum they carry, than upon the liberality of the credits they give, but is also productive of an increasing deterioration of the character of the indians and will probably ultimately prove destructive to the fur trade itself. indeed the evil has already in part recoiled upon the traders; for the indians, long deceived, have become deceivers in their turn, and not unfrequently, after having incurred a heavy debt at one post, move off to another to play the same game. in some cases the rival posts have entered into a mutual agreement to trade only with the indians they have respectively fitted out, but such treaties, being seldom rigidly adhered to, prove a fertile subject for disputes and the differences have been more than once decided by force of arms. to carry on the contest the two companies are obliged to employ a great many servants whom they maintain often with much difficulty and always at a considerable expense.* (*footnote. as the contending parties have united the evils mentioned in this and the two preceding pages are now in all probability at an end.) there are thirty men belonging to the hudson's bay fort at cumberland and nearly as many women and children. the inhabitants of the north-west company's house are still more numerous. these large families are fed during the greatest part of the year on fish which are principally procured at beaver lake, about fifty miles distant. the fishery, commencing with the first frosts in autumn, continues abundant till january, and the produce is dragged over the snow on sledges, each drawn by three dogs and carrying about two hundred and fifty pounds. the journey to and from the lake occupies five days and every sledge requires a driver. about three thousand fish averaging three pounds apiece were caught by the hudson's bay fishermen last season; in addition to which a few sturgeon were occasionally caught in pine island lake; and towards the spring a considerable quantity of moose meat was procured from the basquiau hill, sixty or seventy miles distant. the rest of our winter's provision consisted of geese, salted in the autumn, and of dried meats and pemmican obtained from the provision posts on the plains of the saskatchewan. a good many potatoes are also raised at this post and a small supply of tea and sugar is brought from the depot at york factory. the provisions obtained from these various sources were amply sufficient in the winter of 1819-20; but through improvidence this post has in former seasons been reduced to great straits. many of the labourers and a great majority of the agents and clerks employed by the two companies have indian or half-breed wives, and the mixed offspring thus produced has become extremely numerous. these metifs, or, as the canadians term them, bois brules, are upon the whole a good-looking people and, where the experiment has been made, have shown much aptness in learning and willingness to be taught; they have however been sadly neglected. the example of their fathers has released them from the restraint imposed by the indian opinions of good and bad behaviour; and generally speaking no pains have been taken to fill the void with better principles. hence it is not surprising that the males, trained up in a high opinion of the authority and rights of the company to which their fathers belonged and, unacquainted with the laws of the civilised world, should be ready to engage in any measure whatever that they are prompted to believe will forward the interests of the cause they espouse. nor that the girls, taught a certain degree of refinement by the acquisition of an european language, should be inflamed by the unrestrained discourse of their indian relations, and very early give up all pretensions to chastity. it is however but justice to remark that there is a very decided difference in the conduct of the children of the orkney men employed by the hudson's bay company and those of the canadian voyagers. some trouble is occasionally bestowed in teaching the former and it is not thrown away, but all the good that can be said of the latter is that they are not quite so licentious as their fathers are. many of the half-breeds both male and female are brought up amongst and intermarry with the indians; and there are few tents wherein the paler children of such marriages are not to be seen. it has been remarked, i do not know with what truth, that half-breeds show more personal courage than the pure crees.* (*footnote. a singular change takes place in the physical constitution of the indian females who become inmates of a fort, namely they bear children more frequently and longer but at the same time are rendered liable to indurations of the mammae and prolapsus of the uterus, evils from which they are in a great measure exempt whilst they lead a wandering and laborious life.) the girls at the forts, particularly the daughters of canadians, are given in marriage very young; they are very frequently wives at twelve years of age and mothers at fourteen. nay, more than once instance came under our observation of the master of a post having permitted a voyager to take to wife a poor child that had scarcely attained the age of ten years. the masters of posts and wintering partners of the companies deemed this criminal indulgence to the vices of their servants necessary to stimulate them to exertion for the interest of their respective concerns. another practice may also be noticed as showing the state of moral feeling on these subjects amongst the white residents of the fur countries. it was not very uncommon amongst the canadian voyagers for one woman to be common to and maintained at the joint expense of two men; nor for a voyager to sell his wife, either for a season or altogether, for a sum of money proportioned to her beauty and good qualities but always inferior to the price of a team of dogs. the country around cumberland house is flat and swampy and is much intersected by small lakes. limestone is found everywhere under a thin stratum of soil and it not unfrequently shows itself above the surface. it lies in strata generally horizontal but in one spot near the fort dipping to the northward at an angle of 40 degrees. some portions of this rock contain very perfect shells. with respect to the vegetable productions of the district the populus trepida, or aspen, which thrives in moist situations, is perhaps the most abundant tree on the banks of the saskatchewan and is much prized as firewood, burning well when cut green. the populus balsamifera or taccamahac, called by the crees matheh meteos, or ugly poplar, in allusion to its rough bark and naked stem, crowned in an aged state with a few distorted branches, is scarcely less plentiful. it is an inferior firewood and does not been well unless when cut in the spring and dried during the summer; but it affords a great quantity of potash. a decoction of its resinous buds has been sometimes used by the indians with success in cases of snow-blindness, but its application to the inflamed eye produces much pain. of pines the white spruce is the most common here: the red and black spruce, the balsam of gilead fir, and banksian pine also occur frequently. the larch is found only in swampy spots and is stunted and unhealthy. the canoe birch attains a considerable size in this latitude but from the great demand for its wood to make sledges it has become rare. the alder abounds on the margin of the little grassy lakes so common in the neighbourhood. a decoction of its inner bark is used as an emetic by the indians who also extract from it a yellow dye. a great variety of willows occur on the banks of the streams and the hazel is met with sparingly in the woods. the sugar maple, elm, ash, and the arbor vitae,* termed by the canadian voyagers cedar, grow on various parts of the saskatchewan but that river seems to form their northern boundary. two kinds of prunus also grow here, one of which,** a handsome small tree, produces a black fruit having a very astringent taste whence the term choke-cherry applied to it. the crees call it tawquoymeena, and esteemed it to be when dried and bruised a good addition to pemmican. the other species*** is a less elegant shrub but is said to bear a bright red cherry of a pleasant sweet taste. its cree name is passeeaweymeenan, and it is known to occur as far north as great slave lake. (*footnote. thuya occidentalis.) (**footnote. prunus virginiana.) (***footnote. prunus pensylvanica.) the most esteemed fruit of the country however is the produce of the aronia ovalis. under the name of meesasscootoomena it is a favourite dish at most of the indian feasts and, mixed with pemmican, it renders that greasy food actually palatable. a great variety of currants and gooseberries are also mentioned by the natives under the name of sappoommeena but we only found three species in the neighbourhood of cumberland house. the strawberry, called by the crees oteimeena, or heart-berry, is found in abundance and rasps are common on the sandy banks of the rivers. the fruits hitherto mentioned fall in the autumn but the following berries remained hanging on the bushes in the spring and are considered as much mellowed by exposure to the colds in winter. the red whortleberry (vaccinium vitis idea) is found everywhere but is most abundant in rocky places. it is aptly termed by the crees weesawgummeena, sour-berry. the common cranberry (oxycoccos palustris) is distinguished from the preceding by its growing on moist sphagnous spots and is hence called maskoegomeena, swamp-berry. the american guelder rose whose fruit so strongly resembles the cranberry is also common. there are two kinds of it (viburnum oxycoccos and edule) one termed by the natives peepoonmeena, winter-berry, and the other mongsoameena, moose-berry. there is also a berry of a bluish white colour, the produce of the white cornel tree, which is named musquameena, bear-berry, because these animals are said to fatten on it. the dwarf canadian cornel bears a corymb of red berries which are highly ornamental to the woods throughout the country but are not otherwise worthy of notice for they have an insipid farinaceous taste and are seldom gathered. the crees extract some beautiful colours from several of their native vegetables. they dye their porcupine quills a beautiful scarlet with the roots of two species of bed-straw (galium tinctorium and boreale) which they indiscriminately term sawoyan. the roots, after being carefully washed, are boiled gently in a clean copper kettle, and a quantity of the juice of the moose-berry, strawberry, cranberry, or arctic raspberry, is added together with a few red tufts of pistils of the larch. the porcupine quills are plunged into the liquor before it becomes quite cold and are soon tinged of a beautiful scarlet. the process sometimes fails and produces only a dirty brown, a circumstance which ought probably to be ascribed to the use of an undue quantity of acid. they dye black with an ink made of elder bark and a little bog-iron-ore, dried and pounded, and they have various modes of producing yellow. the deepest colour is obtained from the dried root of a plant which from their description appears to be cowbane (cicuta virosa). an inferior colour is obtained from the bruised buds of the dutch myrtle and they have discovered methods of dyeing with various lichens. the quadrupeds that are hunted for food in this part of the country are the moose and the reindeer, the former termed by the crees mongsoa, or moosoa, the latter attekh. the buffalo or bison (moostoosh) the red-deer or american stag (wawaskeeshoo) the apeesee-mongsoos, or jumping deer, the kinwaithoos, or long-tailed deer, and the apistat-chaekoos, a species of antelope; animals that frequent the plains above the forks of the saskatchewan are not found in the neighbourhood of cumberland house. of fur-bearing animals various kinds of foxes (makkeeshewuc) are found in the district, distinguished by the traders under the names of black, silver, cross, red, and blue foxes. the two former are considered by the indians to be the same kind, varying accidentally in the colour of the pelt. the black foxes are very rare and fetch a high price. the cross and red foxes differ from each other only in colour being of the same shape and size. their shades of colour are not disposed in any determinate manner, some individuals approaching in that respect very nearly to the silver fox, others exhibiting every link of the chain down to a nearly uniform deep or orange-yellow, the distinguishing colour of a pure red fox. it is reported both by indians and traders that all the varieties have been found in the same litter. the blue fox is seldom seen here and is supposed to come from the southward. the gray wolf (mahaygan) is common here. in the month of march the females frequently entice the domestic dog from the forts although at other seasons a strong antipathy seemed to subsist between them. some black wolves are occasionally seen. the black and red varieties of the american bear (musquah) are also found near cumberland house though not frequently; a black bear often has red cubs, and vice versa. the grizzly bear, so much dreaded by the indians for its strength and ferocity, inhabits a track of country nearer the rocky mountains. it is extraordinary that although i made inquiries extensively amongst the indians i met with but one who said that he had killed a she-bear with young in the womb. the wolverine, in cree okeekoohawgees, or ommeethatsees, is an animal of great strength and cunning and is much hated by the hunters on account of the mischief it does to their marten-traps. the canadian lynx (peeshew) is a timid but well-armed animal which preys upon the american hare. its fur is esteemed. the marten (wapeestan) is one of the most common furred animals in the country. the fisher, notwithstanding its name, is an inhabitant of the land, living like the common marten principally on mice. it is the otchoek of the crees, and the pekan of the canadians. the mink (atjackash) has been often confounded by writers with the fisher. it is a much smaller animal, inhabits the banks of rivers, and swims well; its prey is fish. the otter (neekeek) is larger than the english species and produces a much more valuable fur. the muskrat (watsuss, or musquash) is very abundant in all the small grassy lakes. they build small conical houses with a mixture of hay and earth, those which build early raising their houses on the mud of the marshes, and those which build later in the season founding their habitations upon the surface of the ice itself. the house covers a hole in the ice which permits them to go into the water in search of the roots on which they feed. in severe winters when the small lakes are frozen to the bottom and these animals cannot procure their usual food they prey upon each other. in this way great numbers are destroyed. the beaver (ammisk) furnish the staple fur of the country. many surprising stories have been told of the sagacity with which this animal suits the form of its habitation, retreats, and dam, to local circumstances; and i compared the account of its manners given by cuvier in his regne animal with the reports of the indians and found them to agree exactly. they have been often seen in the act of constructing their houses in the moonlight nights, and the observers agree that the stones, wood, or other materials are carried in their teeth and generally leaning against the shoulder. when they have placed it to their mind they turn round and give it a smart blow with their flat tail. in the act of diving they give a similar stroke to the surface of the water. they keep their provision of wood under water in front of the house. their favourite food is the bark of the aspen, birch and willow; they also eat the alder, but seldom touch any of the pine tribe unless from necessity; they are fond of the large roots of the nuphar lutea, and grow fat upon it but it gives their flesh a strong rancid taste. in the season of love their call resembles a groan, that of the male being the hoarsest, but the voice of the young is exactly like the cry of a child. they are very playful as the following anecdote will show: one day a gentleman, long resident in this country, espied five young beavers sporting in the water, leaping upon the trunk of a tree, pushing one another off and playing a thousand interesting tricks. he approached softly under cover of the bushes and prepared to fire on the unsuspecting creatures, but a nearer approach discovered to him such a similitude betwixt their gestures and the infantile caresses of his own children that he threw aside his gun. this gentleman's feelings are to be envied but few traders in fur would have acted so feelingly. the muskrat frequently inhabits the same lodge with the beaver and the otter also thrusts himself in occasionally; the latter however is not always a civil guest as he sometimes devours his host. these are the animals most interesting in an economical point of view. the american hare and several kinds of grouse and ptarmigan also contribute towards the support of the natives; and the geese, in their periodical flights in the spring and autumn, likewise prove a valuable resource both to the indians and white residents; but the principal article of food after the moose-deer is fish; indeed it forms almost the sole support of the traders at some of the posts. the most esteemed fish is the coregonus albus, the attihhawmeg of the crees and the white-fish of the americans. its usual weight is between three and four pounds, but it has been known to reach sixteen or eighteen pounds. three fish of the ordinary size is the daily allowance to each man at the fort and is considered as equivalent to two geese or eight pounds of solid moose-meat. the fishery for the attihhawmeg lasts the whole year but is most productive in the spawning season from the middle of september to the middle of october. the ottonneebees (coregonus artedi) closely resembles the last. three species of carp (catastomus hudsonius, c. forsterianus, and c. lesueurii) are also found abundantly in all the lakes, their cree names are namaypeeth, meethquawmaypeeth, and wapawhawkeeshew. the occuw, or river perch, termed also horn-fish, piccarel, or dore, is common, but is not so much esteemed as the attihhawmeg. it attains the length of twenty inches in these lakes. the methy is another common fish; it is the gadus lota, or burbot, of europe. its length is about two feet, its gullet is capacious and it preys upon fish large enough to distend its body to nearly twice its proper size. it is never eaten, not even by the dogs, unless through necessity but its liver and roe are considered as delicacies. the pike is also plentiful and, being readily caught in the wintertime with the hook, is so much prized on that account by the natives as to receive from them the name of eithinyoocannooshoeoo, or indian fish. the common trout, or nammoecous, grows here to an enormous size, being caught in particular lakes, weighing upwards of sixty pounds; thirty pounds is no uncommon size at beaver lake, from whence cumberland house is supplied. the hioden clodalis, oweepeetcheesees, or gold-eye, is a beautiful small fish which resembles the trout in its habits. one of the largest fish is the mathemegh, cat-fish, or barbue. it belongs to the genus silurus. it is rare but is highly prized as food. the sturgeon (accipenser ruthenus) is also taken in the saskatchewan and lakes communicating with it and furnishes an excellent but rather rich article of food. chapter 4. leave cumberland house. mode of travelling in winter. arrival at carlton house. stone indians. visit to a buffalo pound. goitres. departure from carlton house. isle a la crosse. arrival at fort chipewyan. leave cumberland house. january 18, 1820. this day we set out from cumberland house for carlton house but, previously to detailing the events of the journey, it may be proper to describe the necessary equipments of a winter traveller in this region which i cannot do better than by extracting the following brief but accurate account of it from mr. hood's journal: mode of travelling in winter. a snowshoe is made of two light bars of wood fastened together at their extremities and projected into curves by transverse bars. the side bars have been so shaped by a frame and dried before a fire that the front part of the shoe turns up like the prow of a boat and the part behind terminates in an acute angle; the spaces between the bars are filled up with a fine netting of leathern thongs except that part behind the main bar which is occupied by the feet; the netting is there close and strong, and the foot is attached to the main bar by straps passing round the heel but only fixing the toes so that the heel rises after each step, and the tail of the shoe is dragged on the snow. between the main bar and another in front of it a small space is left, permitting the toes to descend a little in the act of raising the heel to make the step forward, which prevents their extremities from chafing. the length of a snowshoe is from four to six feet and the breadth one foot and a half, or one and three-quarters, being adapted to the size of the wearer. the motion of walking in them is perfectly natural for one shoe is level with the snow when the edge of the other is passing over it. it is not easy to use them among bushes without frequent overthrows, nor to rise afterwards without help. each shoe weighs about two pounds when unclogged with snow. the northern indian snowshoes differ a little from those of the southern indians, having a greater curvature on the outside of each shoe, one advantage of which is that when the foot rises the over-balanced side descends and throws off the snow. all the superiority of european art has been unable to improve the native contrivance of this useful machine. sledges are made of two or three flat boards curving upwards in front and fastened together by transverse pieces of wood above. they are so thin that, if heavily laden, they bend with the inequalities of the surface over which they pass. the ordinary dog-sledges are eight or ten feet long and very narrow, but the lading is secured to a lacing round the edges. the cariole used by the traders is merely a covering of leather for the lower part of the body, affixed to the common sledge which is painted and ornamented according to the taste of the proprietor. besides snowshoes each individual carries his blanket, hatchet, steel, flint, and tinder, and generally firearms. ... the general dress of the winter traveller is a capot, having a hood to put up under the fur cap in windy weather or in the woods to keep the snow from his neck, leathern trousers and indian stockings which are closed at the ankles round the upper part of his moccasins or indian shoes to prevent the snow from getting into them. over these he wears a blanket or leathern coat which is secured by a belt round his waist to which his fire-bag, knife, and hatchet are suspended. mr. back and i were accompanied by the seaman john hepburn; we were provided with two carioles and two sledges, their drivers and dogs being furnished in equal proportions by the two companies. fifteen days' provision so completely filled the sledges that it was with difficulty we found room for a small sextant, one suit of clothes, and three changes of linen, together with our bedding. notwithstanding we thus restricted ourselves and even loaded the carioles with part of the luggage instead of embarking in them ourselves we did not set out without considerable grumbling from the voyagers of both companies respecting the overlading of their dogs. however we left the matter to be settled by our friends at the fort who were more conversant with winter travelling than ourselves. indeed the loads appeared to us so great that we should have been inclined to listen to the complaints of the drivers. the weight usually placed upon a sledge drawn by three dogs cannot at the commencement of a journey be estimated at less than three hundred pounds, which however suffers a daily diminution from the consumption of provisions. the sledge itself weighs about thirty pounds. when the snow is hard frozen or the track well trodden the rate of travelling is about two miles and a half an hour, including rests, or about fifteen miles a day. if the snow be loose the speed is necessarily much less and the fatigue greater. at eight in the morning of the 18th we quitted the fort and took leave of our hospitable friend governor williams whose kindness and attention i shall ever remember with gratitude. dr. richardson, mr. hood, and mr. connolly accompanied us along the saskatchewan until the snow became too deep for their walking without snowshoes. we then parted from our associates with sincere regret at the prospect of a long separation. being accompanied by mr. mackenzie of the hudson's bay company who was going to isle a la crosse with four sledges under his charge we formed quite a procession, keeping in an indian file on the track of the man who preceded the foremost dogs; but as the snow was deep we proceeded slowly on the surface of the river, which is about three hundred and fifty yards wide, for the distance of six miles which we went this day. its alluvial banks and islands are clothed with willows. at the place of our encampment we could scarcely find sufficient pine branches to floor the hut, as the orkney men term the place where travellers rest. its preparation however consists only in clearing away the snow to the ground and covering that space with pine branches, over which the party spread their blankets and coats and sleep in warmth and comfort by keeping a good fire at their feet without any other canopy than the heaven, even though the thermometer should be far below zero. the arrival at the place of encampment gives immediate occupation to every one of the party; and it is not until the sleeping-place has been arranged and a sufficiency of wood collected as fuel for the night that the fire is allowed to be kindled. the dogs alone remain inactive during this busy scene, being kept harnessed to their burdens until the men have leisure to unstow the sledges and hang upon the trees every species of provision out of their reach. we had ample experience before morning of the necessity of this precaution as they contrived to steal a considerable part of our stores almost from underneath hepburn's head, notwithstanding their having been well fed at supper. this evening we found the mercury of our thermometer had sunk into the bulb and was frozen. it rose again into the tube on being held to the fire but quickly redescended into the bulb on being removed into the air; we could not therefore ascertain by it the temperature of the atmosphere either then or during our journey. the weather was perfectly clear. january 19. we rose this morning after the enjoyment of a sound and comfortable repose and recommenced our journey at sunrise but made slow progress through the deep snow. the task of beating the track for the dogs was so very fatiguing that each of the men took the lead in turn for an hour and a half. the scenery of the banks of the river improved as we advanced today; some firs and poplars were intermixed with the willows. we passed through two creeks formed by islands, and encamped on a pleasant spot on the north shore, having only made six miles and three-quarters actual distance. the next day we pursued our course along the river; the dogs had the greatest difficulty in dragging their heavy burdens through the snow. we halted to refresh them at the foot of sturgeon river and obtained the latitude 53 degrees 51 minutes 41 seconds north. this is a small stream which issues from a neighbouring lake. we encamped near to mosquito point having walked nine miles. the termination of the day's journey was a great relief to me who had been suffering during the greater part of it in consequence of my feet having been galled by the snowshoes; this however is an evil which few escape on their initiation to winter travelling. it excites no pity from the more experienced companions of the journey who travel on as fast as they can regardless of your pain. mr. isbester and an orkney man joined us from cumberland house and brought some pemmican that we had left behind, a supply which was very seasonable after our recent loss. the general occupation of mr. isbester during the winter is to follow or find out the indians and collect their furs, and his present journey will appear adventurous to persons accustomed to the certainty of travelling on a well-known road. he was going in search of a band of indians of whom no information had been received since last october, and his only guide for finding them was their promise to hunt in a certain quarter; but he looked at the jaunt with indifference and calculated on meeting them in six or seven days, for which time only he had provision. few persons in this country suffer more from want of food than those occasionally do who are employed on this service. they are furnished with a sufficiency of provision to serve until they reach the part where the indians are expected to be; but it frequently occurs that on their arrival at the spot they have gone elsewhere, and that a recent fall of snow has hidden their track, in which case the voyagers have to wander about in search of them; and it often happens when they succeed in finding the indians that they are unprovided with meat. mr. isbester had been placed in this distressing situation only a few weeks ago and passed four days without either himself or his dogs tasting food. at length when he had determined on killing one of the dogs to satisfy his hunger he happily met with a beaten track which led him to some indian lodges where he obtained food. the morning of the 21st was cold but pleasant for travelling. we left mr. isbester and his companion and crossed the peninsula of mosquito point to avoid a detour of several miles which the river makes. though we put up at an early hour we gained eleven miles this day. our encampment was at the lower extremity of tobin's falls. the snow being less deep on the rough ice which enclosed this rapid we proceeded on the 22nd at a quicker pace than usual but at the expense of great suffering to mr. back, myself and hepburn, whose feet were much galled. after passing tobin's falls the river expands to the breadth of five hundred yards, and its banks are well wooded with pines, poplars, birch and willow. many tracks of moose-deer and wolves were observed near the encampment. on the 23rd the sky was generally overcast and there were several snow showers. we saw two wolves and some foxes cross the river in the course of the day and passed many tracks of the moose and red-deer. soon after we had encamped the snow fell heavily which was an advantage to us after we had retired to rest by its affording an additional covering to our blankets. the next morning at breakfast time two men arrived from carlton on their way to cumberland. having the benefit of their track we were enabled, to our great joy, to march at a quick pace without snowshoes. my only regret was that the party proceeded too fast to allow of mr. back's halting occasionally to note the bearings of the points and delineate the course of the river* without being left behind. as the provisions were getting short i could not therefore with propriety check the progress of the party; and indeed it appeared to me less necessary as i understood the river had been carefully surveyed. in the afternoon we had to resume the encumbrance of the snowshoes and to pass over a rugged part where the ice had been piled over a collection of stones. the tracks of animals were very abundant on the river, particularly near the remains of an old establishment called the lower nippeween. (*footnote. this was afterwards done by dr. richardson during a voyage to carlton in the spring.) so much snow had fallen on the night of the 24th that the track we intended to follow was completely covered and our march today was very fatiguing. we passed the remains of two red-deer lying at the bases of perpendicular cliffs from the summits of which they had probably been forced by the wolves. these voracious animals, who are inferior in speed to the moose or red-deer, are said frequently to have recourse to this expedient in places where extensive plains are bounded by precipitous cliffs. whilst the deer are quietly grazing the wolves assemble in great numbers and, forming a crescent, creep slowly towards the herd so as not to alarm them much at first but, when they perceive that they have fairly hemmed in the unsuspecting creatures and cut off their retreat across the plain, they move more quickly and with hideous yells terrify their prey and urge them to flight by the only open way, which is that towards the precipice, appearing to know that when the herd is once at full speed it is easily driven over the cliff, the rearmost urging on those that are before. the wolves then descend at their leisure and feast on the mangled carcasses. one of these animals passed close to the person who was beating the track but did not offer any violence. we encamped at sunset after walking thirteen miles. on the 26th we were rejoiced at passing the halfway point between cumberland and carlton. the scenery of the river is less pleasing beyond this point as there is a scarcity of wood. one of our men was despatched after a red-deer that appeared on the bank. he contrived to approach near enough to fire twice, though without success, before the animal moved away. after a fatiguing march of seventeen miles we put up at the upper nippeween, a deserted establishment, and performed the comfortable operations of shaving and washing for the first time since our departure from cumberland, the weather having been hitherto too severe. we passed an uncomfortable and sleepless night and agreed next morning to encamp in future in the open air as preferable to the imperfect shelter of a deserted house without doors or windows. the morning was extremely cold but fortunately the wind was light which prevented our feeling it severely; experience indeed had taught us that the sensation of cold depends less upon the state of temperature than the force of the wind. an attempt was made to obtain the latitude which failed in consequence of the screw that adjusts the telescope of the sextant being immovably fixed from the moisture upon it having frozen. the instrument could not be replaced in its case before the ice was thawed by the fire in the evening. in the course of the day we passed the confluence of the south branch of the saskatchewan, which rises from the rocky mountains near the sources of the northern branch of the missouri. at coles falls, which commence a distance from the branch, we found the surface of the ice very uneven and many spots of open water. we passed the ruins of an establishment which the traders had been compelled to abandon in consequence of the intractable conduct and pilfering habits of the assineboine or stone indians; and we learned that all the residents at a post on the south branch had been cut off by the same tribe some years ago. we travelled twelve miles today. the wolves serenaded us through the night with a chorus of their agreeable howling but none of them ventured near the encampment. but mr. back's repose was disturbed by a more serious evil: his buffalo robe caught fire and the shoes on his feet being contracted by the heat gave him such pain that he jumped up in the cold and ran into the snow as the only means of obtaining relief. on the 28th we had a strong and piercing wind from north-west in our faces and much snow-drift; we were compelled to walk as quick as we could and to keep constantly rubbing the exposed parts of the skin to prevent their being frozen, but some of the party suffered in spite of every precaution. we descried three red-deer on the banks of the river and were about to send the best marksmen after them when they espied the party and ran away. a supply of meat would have been very seasonable as the men's provision had become scanty and the dogs were without food except a little burnt leather. owing to the scarcity of wood we had to walk until a late hour before a good spot for an encampment could be found and had then attained only eleven miles. the night was miserably cold; our tea froze in the tin pots before we could drink it and even a mixture of spirits and water became quite thick by congelation; yet after we lay down to rest we felt no inconvenience and heeded not the wolves though they were howling within view. the 29th was also very cold until the sun burst forth when the travelling became pleasant. the banks of the river are very scantily supplied with wood through the part we passed today. a long track on the south shore called holms plains is destitute of anything like a tree and the opposite bank has only stunted willows; but after walking sixteen miles we came to a spot better wooded and encamped opposite to a remarkable place called by the voyagers the neck of land. a short distance below our encampment, on the peninsula formed by the confluence of the net-setting river with the saskatchewan, there stands a representation of kepoochikawn which was formerly held in high veneration by the indians and is still looked upon with some respect. it is merely a large willow bush having its tops bound into a bunch. many offerings of value such as handsome dresses, hatchets, and kettles, used to be made to it, but of late its votaries have been less liberal. it was mentioned to us as a signal instance of its power that a sacrilegious moose-deer, having ventured to crop a few of its tender twigs, was found dead at the distance of a few yards. the bush having now grown old and stunted is exempted from similar violations. on the 30th we directed our course round the neck of land which is well clothed with pines and firs; though the opposite or western bank is nearly destitute of wood. this contrast between the two banks continued until we reached the commencement of what our companions called the barren grounds when both the banks were alike bare. vast plains extend behind the southern bank which afford excellent pasturage for the buffalo and other grazing animals. in the evening we saw a herd of the former but could not get near to them. after walking fifteen miles we encamped. the men's provision having been entirely expended last night we shared our small stock with them. the poor dogs had been toiling some days on the most scanty fare; their rapacity in consequence was unbounded; they forced open a deal box containing tea, etc. to get at a small piece of meat which had been incautiously placed in it. arrival at carlton house. as soon as daylight permitted the party commenced their march in expectation of reaching carlton house to breakfast, but we did not arrive before noon although the track was good. we were received by mr. prudens, the gentleman in charge of the post, with that friendly attention which governor williams' circular was calculated to ensure at every station; and were soon afterwards regaled with a substantial dish of buffalo steaks which would have been excellent under any circumstances but were particularly relished by us after our travelling fare of dried meat and pemmican, though eaten without either bread or vegetables. after this repast we had the comfort of changing our travelling dresses which had been worn for fourteen days; a gratification which can only be truly estimated by those who have been placed under similar circumstances. i was still in too great pain from swellings in the ankles to proceed to la montee, the north-west company's establishment distant about three miles; but mr. hallet, the gentleman in charge, came the following morning and i presented to him the circular from mr. s. mcgillivray. he had already been furnished however with a copy of it from mr. connolly, and was quite prepared to assist us in our advance to the athabasca. mr. back and i, having been very desirous to see some of the stone indians who reside on the plains in this vicinity, learned with regret that a large band of them had left the house on the preceding day, but our curiosity was amply gratified by the appearance of some individuals on the following and every subsequent day during our stay. the looks of these people would have prepossessed me in their favour but for the assurances i had received from the gentlemen of the posts of their gross and habitual treachery. their countenances are affable and pleasing; their eyes large and expressive, nose aquiline, teeth white and regular, the forehead bold, the cheek-bones rather high. their figure is usually good, above the middle size with slender but well proportioned limbs. their colour is a light copper and they have a profusion of very black hair which hangs over the ears and shades the face. their dress, which i think extremely neat and convenient, consists of a vest and trousers of leather fitted to the body; over these a buffalo robe is thrown gracefully. these dresses are in general cleaned with white-mud, a sort of marl, though some use red-earth, a kind of bog-iron-ore; but this colour neither looks so light nor forms such an agreeable contrast as the white with the black hair of the robe. their quiver hangs behind them and in the hand is carried the bow with an arrow always ready for attack or defence, and sometimes they have a gun; they also carry a bag containing materials for making a fire, some tobacco, the calumet or pipe, and whatever valuables they possess. this bag is neatly ornamented with porcupine quills. thus equipped the stone indian bears himself with an air of perfect independence. the only articles of european commerce they require in exchange for the meat they furnish to the trading post are tobacco, knives, ammunition, and spirits, and occasionally some beads, but more frequently buttons which they string in their hair as ornaments. a successful hunter will probably have two or three dozen of them hanging at equal distances on locks of hair from each side of the forehead. at the end of these locks small coral bells are sometimes attached which tinkle at every motion of the head, a noise which seems greatly to delight the wearer; sometimes strings of buttons are bound round the head like a tiara; and a bunch of feathers gracefully crowns the head. the stone indians steal whatever they can, particularly horses; these animals they maintain are common property sent by the almighty for the general use of man and therefore may be taken wherever met with; still they admit the right of the owners to watch them and to prevent theft if possible. this avowed disposition on their part calls forth the strictest vigilance at the different posts; notwithstanding which the most daring attacks are often made with success, sometimes on parties of three or four but oftener on individuals. about two years ago a band of them had the audacity to attempt to take away some horses which were grazing before the gate of the north-west company's fort and, after braving the fire from the few people then at the establishment through the whole day and returning their shots occasionally, they actually succeeded in their enterprise. one man was killed on each side. they usually strip defenceless persons whom they meet of all their garments, but particularly of those which have buttons, and leave them to travel alone in that state, however severe the weather. if resistance be expected they not unfrequently murder before they attempt to rob. the traders when they travel invariably keep some men on guard to prevent surprise whilst the others sleep; and often practise the stratagem of lighting a fire at sunset, which they leave burning, and move on after dark to a more distant encampment--yet these precautions do not always baffle the depredators. such is the description of men whom the traders of this river have constantly to guard against. it must require a long residence among them and much experience of their manners to overcome the apprehensions their hostility and threats are calculated to excite. through fear of having their provisions and supplies entirely cut off the traders are often obliged to overlook the grossest offences, even murder, though the delinquents present themselves with unblushing effrontery almost immediately after the fact and perhaps boast of it. they do not on detection consider themselves under any obligation to deliver up what they have stolen without receiving an equivalent. stone indians. the stone indians keep in amity with their neighbours the crees from motives of interest; and the two tribes unite in determined hostility against the nations dwelling to the westward which are generally called slave indians--a term of reproach applied by the crees to those tribes against whom they have waged successful wars. the slave indians are said greatly to resemble the stone indians, being equally desperate and daring in their acts of aggression and dishonesty towards the traders. these parties go to war almost every summer and sometimes muster three or four hundred horsemen on each side. their leaders, in approaching the foe, exercise all the caution of the most skilful generals; and whenever either party considers that it has gained the best ground, or finds it can surprise the other, the attack is made. they advance at once to close quarters and the slaughter is consequently great though the battle may be short. the prisoners of either sex are seldom spared but slain on the spot with wanton cruelty. the dead are scalped and he is considered the bravest person who bears the greatest number of scalps from the field. these are afterwards attached to his war dress and worn as proofs of his prowess. the victorious party during a certain time blacken their faces and every part of their dress in token of joy, and in that state they often come to the establishment, if near, to testify their delight by dancing and singing, bearing all the horrid insignia of war, to display their individual feats. when in mourning they completely cover their dress and hair with white mud. the crees in the vicinity of carlton house have the same cast of countenance as those about cumberland but are much superior to them in appearance, living in a more abundant country. these men are more docile, tractable, and industrious than the stone indians and bring greater supplies of provision and furs to the posts. their general mode of dress resembles that of the stone indians; but sometimes they wear cloth leggings, blankets, and other useful articles when they can afford to purchase them. they also decorate their hair with buttons. the crees procure guns from the traders and use them in preference to the bow and arrow; and from them the stone indians often get supplied either by stealth, gaming, or traffic. like the rest of their nation these crees are remarkably fond of spirits and would make any sacrifice to obtain them. i regretted to find the demand for this pernicious article had greatly increased within the last few years. the following notice of these indians is extracted from dr. richardson's journal: the asseenaboine, termed by the crees asseeneepoytuck or stone indians, are a tribe of sioux who speak a dialect of the iroquois, one of the great divisions under which the american philologists have classed the known dialects of the aborigines of north america. the stone indians or, as they name themselves, eascab, originally entered this part of the country under the protection of the crees and, in concert with them, attacked and drove to the westward the former inhabitants of the banks of the saskatchewan. they are still the allies of the crees but have now become more numerous than their former protectors. they exhibit all the bad qualities ascribed to the mengwe or iroquois, the stock whence they are sprung. of their actual number i could obtain no precise information but it is very great. the crees who inhabit the plains, being fur hunters, are better known to the traders. they are divided into two distinct bands, the ammiskwatchhethinyoowuc or beaver hill crees, who have about forty tents and the sackaweethinyoowuc or thick wood crees who have thirty-five. the tents average nearly ten inmates each, which gives a population of seven hundred and fifty to the whole. the nations who were driven to the westward by the eascab and crees are termed, in general, by the latter, yatcheethinyoowuc, which has been translated slave indians but more properly signifies strangers. they now inhabit the country around fort augustus, and towards the foot of the rocky mountains, and have increased in strength until they have become an object of terror to the eascab themselves. they rear a great number of horses, make use of firearms, and are fond of european articles, in order to purchase which they hunt the beaver and other furred animals, but they depend principally on the buffalo for subsistence. they are divided into five nations: first, the pawausticeythinyoowuc, or fall indians, so named from their former residence on the falls of the saskatchewan. they are the minetarres with whom captain lewis's party had a conflict on their return from the missouri. they have about four hundred and fifty or five hundred tents; their language is very guttural and difficult. second, the peganooeythinyoowuc pegans, or muddy river indians named in their own language peganoekoon, have four hundred tents. third, the meethcothinyoowuc, or blood indians, named by themselves kainoekoon, have three hundred tents. fourth, the cuskoetehwawthesseetuck, or blackfoot indians, in their own language saxoekoekoon, have three hundred and fifty tents. the last three nations or tribes, the pegans, blood indians, and blackfeet, speak the same language. it is pronounced in a slow and distinct tone, has much softness, and is easily acquired by their neighbours. i am assured by the best interpreters in the country that it bears no affinity to the cree, sioux, or chipewyan languages. lastly the sassees, or circees, have one hundred and fifty tents; they speak the same language with their neighbours, the snare indians, who are a tribe of the extensive family of the chipewyans.* (*footnote. as the subjects may be interesting to philologists i subjoin a few words of the blackfoot language: peestah kan: tobacco. moohksee: an awl. nappoeoohkee: rum. cook keet: give me. eeninee: buffalo. pooxapoot: come here. kat oetsits: none, i have none. keet sta kee: a beaver. naum: a bow. stooan: a knife. sassoopats: ammunition. meenee: beads. poommees: fat. miss ta poot: keep off. saw: no. stwee: cold; it is cold. pennakomit: a horse. ahseeu: good.) ... visit to a buffalo pound. on the 6th of february we accompanied mr. prudens on a visit to a cree encampment and a buffalo pound about six miles from the house; we found seven tents pitched within a small cluster of pines which adjoined the pound. the largest, which we entered, belonged to the chief who was absent but came in on learning our arrival. the old man (about sixty) welcomed us with a hearty shake of the hand and the customary salutation of "what cheer!" an expression which they have gained from the traders. as we had been expected they had caused the tent to be neatly arranged, fresh grass was spread on the ground, buffalo robes were placed on the side opposite the door for us to sit on, and a kettle was on the fire to boil meat for us. after a few minutes' conversation an invitation was given to the chief and his hunters to smoke the calumet with us as a token of our friendship: this was loudly announced through the camp and ten men from the other tents immediately joined our party. on their entrance the women and children withdrew, their presence on such occasions being contrary to etiquette. the calumet having been prepared and lighted by mr. prudens' clerk was presented to the chief who performed the following ceremony before he commenced smoking: he first pointed the stem to the south, then to the west, north, and east, and afterwards to the heavens, the earth and the fire, as an offering to the presiding spirits; he took three whiffs only and then passed the pipe to his next companion who took the same number of whiffs and so did each person as it went round. after the calumet had been replenished the person who then commenced repeated only the latter part of the ceremony, pointing the stem to the heavens, the earth and the fire. some spirits mixed with water were presented to the old man who before he drank demanded a feather which he dipped into the cup several times and sprinkled the moisture on the ground, pronouncing each time a prayer. his first address to the keetchee manitou, or great spirit, was that buffalo might be abundant everywhere and that plenty might come into their pound. he next prayed that the other animals might be numerous and particularly those which were valuable for their furs, and then implored that the party present might escape the sickness which was at that time prevalent and be blessed with constant health. some other supplications followed which we could not get interpreted without interrupting the whole proceeding; but at every close the whole indian party assented by exclaiming aha; and when he had finished the old man drank a little and passed the cup round. after these ceremonies each person smoked at his leisure and they engaged in a general conversation which i regretted not understanding as it seemed to be very humorous, exciting frequent bursts of laughter. the younger men in particular appeared to ridicule the abstinence of one of the party who neither drank nor smoked. he bore their jeering with perfect composure and assured them, as i was told, they would be better if they would follow his example. i was happy to learn from mr. prudens that this man was not only one of the best hunters but the most cheerful and contented of the tribe. four stone indians arrived at this time and were invited into the tent but one only accepted the invitation and partook of the fare. when mr. prudens heard the others refuse he gave immediate directions that our horses should be narrowly watched as he suspected these fellows wished to carry them off. having learned that these crees considered mr. back and myself to be war chiefs possessing great power and that they expected we should make some address to them i desired them to be kind to the traders, to be industrious in procuring them provision and furs, and to refrain from stealing their stores and horses; and i assured them that if i heard of their continuing to behave kindly i would mention their good conduct in the strongest terms to their great father across the sea (by which appellation they designate the king) whose favourable consideration they had been taught by the traders to value most highly. they all promised to follow my advice and assured me it was not they but the stone indians who robbed and annoyed the traders. the stone indian who was present heard this accusation against his tribe quite unmoved, but he probably did not understand the whole of the communication. we left them to finish their rum and went to look round the lodges and examine the pound. the greatest proportion of labour in savage life falls to the women; we now saw them employed in dressing skins, and conveying wood, water, and provision. as they have often to fetch the meat from some distance they are assisted in this duty by their dogs which are not harnessed in sledges but carry their burdens in a manner peculiarly adapted to this level country. two long poles are fastened by a collar to the dog's neck; their ends trail on the ground and are kept at a proper distance by a hoop which is lashed between them immediately behind the dog's tail; the hoop is covered with network upon which the load is placed. the boys were amusing themselves by shooting arrows at a mark and thus training to become hunters. the stone indians are so expert with the bow and arrow that they can strike a very small object at a considerable distance and will shoot with sufficient force to pierce through the body of a buffalo when near. the buffalo pound was a fenced circular space of about a hundred yards in diameter; the entrance was banked up with snow to a sufficient height to prevent the retreat of the animals that once have entered. for about a mile on each side of the road leading to the pound stakes were driven into the ground at nearly equal distances of about twenty yards; these were intended to represent men and to deter the animals from attempting to break out on either side. within fifty or sixty yards from the pound branches of trees were placed between these stakes to screen the indians who lie down behind them to await the approach of the buffalo. the principal dexterity in this species of chase is shown by the horsemen who have to manoeuvre round the herd in the plains so as to urge them to enter the roadway which is about a quarter of a mile broad. when this has been accomplished they raise loud shouts and, pressing close upon the animals, so terrify them that they rush heedlessly forward towards the snare. when they have advanced as far as the men who are lying in ambush they also rise and increase the consternation by violent shouting and firing guns. the affrighted beasts having no alternative run directly to the pound where they are quickly despatched either with an arrow or gun. there was a tree in the centre of the pound on which the indians had hung strips of buffalo flesh and pieces of cloth as tributary or grateful offerings to the great master of life; and we were told that they occasionally place a man in the tree to sing to the presiding spirit as the buffaloes are advancing who must keep his station until the whole that have entered are killed. this species of hunting is very similar to that of taking elephants on the island of ceylon but upon a smaller scale. the crees complained to us of the audacity of a party of stone indians who two nights before had stripped their revered tree of many of its offerings and had injured their pound by setting their stakes out of the proper places. other modes of killing the buffalo are practised by the indians with success; of these the hunting them on horseback requires most dexterity. an expert hunter, when well mounted, dashes at the herd and chooses an individual which he endeavours to separate from the rest. if he succeeds he contrives to keep him apart by the proper management of his horse though going at full speed. whenever he can get sufficiently near for a ball to penetrate the beast's hide he fires and seldom fails of bringing the animal down; though of course he cannot rest the piece against the shoulder nor take a deliberate aim. on this service the hunter is often exposed to considerable danger from the fall of his horse in the numerous holes which the badgers make in these plains, and also from the rage of the buffalo which when closely pressed often turns suddenly and, rushing furiously on the horse, frequently succeeds in wounding it or dismounting the rider. whenever the animal shows this disposition which the experienced hunter will readily perceive he immediately pulls up his horse and goes off in another direction. when the buffaloes are on their guard horses cannot be used in approaching them; but the hunter dismounts at some distance and crawls in the snow towards the herd, pushing his gun before him. if the buffaloes happen to look towards him he stops and keeps quite motionless until their eyes are turned in another direction; by this cautious proceeding a skilful person will get so near as to be able to kill two or three out of the herd. it will easily be imagined this service cannot be very agreeable when the thermometer stands 30 or 40 degrees below zero as sometimes happens in this country. as we were returning from the tents the dogs that were harnessed to three sledges, in one of which mr. back was seated, set off in pursuit of a buffalo-calf. mr. back was speedily thrown from his vehicle and had to join me in my horse-cariole. mr. heriot, having gone to recover the dogs, found them lying exhausted beside the calf which they had baited until it was as exhausted as themselves. mr. heriot, to show us the mode of hunting on horseback or as the traders term it, running of the buffalo, went in chase of a cow and killed it after firing three shots. the buffalo is a huge and shapeless animal quite devoid of grace or beauty; particularly awkward in running but by no means slow; when put to his speed he plunges through the deep snow very expeditiously; the hair is dark brown, very shaggy, curling about the head, neck, and hump, and almost covering the eye, particularly in the bull which is larger and more unsightly than the cow. the most esteemed part of the animal is the hump, called by the canadians bos, by the hudson's bay people the wig; it is merely a strong muscle on which nature at certain seasons forms a considerable quantity of fat. it is attached to the long spinous processes of the first dorsal vertebrae and seems to be destined to support the enormous head of the animal. the meat which covers the spinal processes themselves after the wig is removed is next in esteem for its flavour and juiciness and is more exclusively termed the hump by the hunters. the party was prevented from visiting a stone indian encampment by a heavy fall of snow, which made it impracticable to go and return the same day. we were dissuaded from sleeping at their tents by the interpreter at the north-west post who told us they considered the whooping-cough and measles, under which they were now suffering, to have been introduced by some white people recently arrived in the country, and that he feared those who had lost relatives, imagining we were the persons, might vent their revenge on us. we regretted to learn that these diseases had been so very destructive among the tribes along the saskatchewan as to have carried off about three hundred persons, crees and asseenaboines, within the trading circle of these establishments. the interpreter also informed us of another bad trait peculiar to the stone indians. though they receive a visitor kindly at their tents and treat him very hospitably during his stay yet it is very probable they will despatch some young men to waylay and rob him in going towards the post: indeed all the traders assured us it was more necessary to be vigilantly on our guard on the occasion of a visit to them than at any other time. carlton house (which our observations place in latitude 52 degrees 50 minutes 47 seconds north, longitude 106 degrees 12 minutes 42 seconds west, variation 20 degrees 44 minutes 47 seconds east) is pleasantly situated about a quarter of a mile from the river's side on the flat ground under the shelter of the high banks that bound the plains. the land is fertile and produces with little trouble ample returns of wheat, barley, oats, and potatoes. the ground is prepared for the reception of these vegetables about the middle of april and when dr. richardson visited this place on may 10th the blade of wheat looked strong and healthy. there were only five acres in cultivation at the period of my visit. the prospect from the fort must be pretty in summer owing to the luxuriant verdure of this fertile soil; but in the uniform and cheerless garb of winter it has little to gratify the eye. beyond the steep bank behind the house commences the vast plain whose boundaries are but imperfectly known; it extends along the south branch of the saskatchewan and towards the sources of the missouri and asseenaboine rivers, being scarcely interrupted through the whole of this great space by hills or even rising grounds. the excellent pasturage furnishes food in abundance to a variety of grazing animals of which the buffalo, red-deer, and a species of antelope are the most important. their presence naturally attracts great hordes of wolves which are of two kinds, the large, and the small. many bears prowl about the banks of this river in summer; of these the grizzly bear is the most ferocious and is held in dread both by indians and europeans. the traveller in crossing these plains not only suffers from the want of food and water but is also exposed to hazard from his horse stumbling in the numerous badger-holes. in many large districts the only fuel is the dried dung of the buffalo; and when a thirsty traveller reaches a spring he has not unfrequently the mortification to find the water salt. carlton house and la montee are provision-posts, only an inconsiderable quantity of furs being obtained at either of them. the provisions are procured in the winter season from the indians in the form of dried meat and fat and, when converted by mixture into pemmican, furnish the principal support of the voyagers in their passages to and from the depots in summer. a considerable quantity of it is also kept for winter use at most of the fur-posts as the least bulky article that can be taken on a winter journey. the mode of making pemmican is very simple, the meat is dried by the indians in the sun or over a fire, and pounded by beating it with stones when spread on a skin. in this state it is brought to the forts where the admixture of hair is partially sifted out and a third part of melted fat incorporated with it, partly by turning the two over with a wooden shovel, partly by kneading them together with the hands. the pemmican is then firmly pressed into leathern bags, each capable of containing eighty-five pounds and, being placed in an airy place to cool, is fit for use. it keeps in this state if not allowed to get wet very well for one year and with great care it may be preserved good for two. between three and four hundred bags were made here by each of the companies this year. there were eight men besides mr. prudens and his clerk belonging to carlton house. at la montee there were seventy canadians and half-breeds and sixty women and children who consumed upwards of seven hundred pounds of buffalo meat daily, the allowance per diem for each man being eight pounds: a portion not so extravagant as may at first appear when allowance is made for bone and the entire want of farinaceous food or vegetables. there are other provision posts, fort augustus and edmonton farther up the river, from whence some furs are also procured. the stone indians have threatened to cut off the supplies in going up to these establishments to prevent their enemies from obtaining ammunition and other european articles; but as these menaces have been frequently made without being put in execution the traders now hear them without any great alarm though they take every precaution to prevent being surprised. mr. back and i were present when an old cree communicated to mr. prudens that the indians spoke of killing all the white people in that vicinity this year which information he received with perfect composure and was amused as well as ourselves with the man's judicious remark which immediately followed, "a pretty state we shall then be in without the goods you bring us." goitres. the following remarks on a well-known disease are extracted from dr. richardson's journal: bronchocele or goitre is a common disorder at edmonton. i examined several of the individuals afflicted with it and endeavoured to obtain every information on the subject from the most authentic sources. the following facts may be depended upon. the disorder attacks those only who drink the water of the river. it is indeed in its worst state confined almost entirely to the half-breed women and children who reside constantly at the fort and make use of river water drawn in the winter through a hole cut in the ice. the men, being often from home on journeys through the plain, when their drink is melted snow, are less affected; and if any of them exhibit during the winter some incipient symptoms of the complaint the annual summer voyage to the sea-coast generally effects a cure. the natives who confine themselves to snow-water in the winter and drink of the small rivulets which flow through the plains in the summer are exempt from the attacks of this disease. these facts are curious inasmuch as they militate against the generally received opinion that the disease is caused by drinking snow-water; an opinion which seems to have originated from bronchocele being endemial to subalpine districts. the saskatchewan at edmonton is clear in the winter and also in the summer except during the may and july floods. this distance from the rocky mountains (which i suppose to be of primitive formation) is upwards of one hundred and thirty miles. the neighbouring plains are alluvial, the soil is calcareous and contains numerous travelled fragments of limestone. at a considerable distance below edmonton the river, continuing its course through the plains, becomes turbid and acquires a white colour. in this state it is drunk by the inmates of carlton house where the disease is known only by name. it is said that the inhabitants of rocky mountain house, sixty miles nearer the source of the river are more severely affected than those at edmonton. the same disease occurs near the sources of the elk and peace rivers; but in those parts of the country which are distant from the rocky mountain chain it is unknown although melted snow forms the only drink of the natives for nine months of the year. a residence of a single year at edmonton is sufficient to render a family bronchocelous. many of the goitres acquire great size. burnt sponge has been tried and found to remove the disease but an exposure to the same cause immediately reproduces it. a great proportion of the children of women who have goitres are born idiots with large heads and the other distinguishing marks of cretins. i could not learn whether it was necessary that both parents should have goitres to produce cretin children: indeed the want of chastity in the half-breed women would be a bar to the deduction of any inference on this head. ... departure from carlton house. february 8. having recovered from the swellings and pains which our late march from cumberland had occasioned we prepared for the commencement of our journey to isle a la crosse, and requisitions were made on both the establishments for the means of conveyance and the necessary supply of provisions for the party which were readily furnished. on the 9th the carioles and sledges were loaded and sent off after breakfast; but mr. back and i remained till the afternoon as mr. prudens had offered that his horses should convey us to the encampment. at three p.m. we parted from our kind host and, in passing through the gate, were honoured with a salute of musketry. after riding six miles we joined the men at their encampment which was made under the shelter of a few poplars. the dogs had been so much fatigued in wading through the very deep snow with their heavy burdens, having to drag upwards of ninety pounds' weight each, that they could get no farther. soon after our arrival the snow began to fall heavily and it continued through the greater part of the night. our next day's march was therefore particularly tedious, the snow being deep and the route lying across an unvarying level, destitute of wood except one small cluster of willows. in the afternoon we reached the end of the plain and came to an elevation on which poplars, willows, and some pines grew, where we encamped, having travelled ten miles. we crossed three small lakes, two of fresh water and one of salt, near the latter of which we encamped and were in consequence obliged to use for our tea water made from snow which has always a disagreeable taste. we had scarcely ascended the hill on the following morning when a large herd of red-deer was perceived grazing at a little distance; and though we were amply supplied with provision our canadian companions could not resist the temptation of endeavouring to add to our stock. a half-breed hunter was therefore sent after them. he succeeded in wounding one but not so as to prevent its running off with the herd in a direction wide of our course. a couple of rabbits and a brace of wood partridges were shot in the afternoon. there was an agreeable variety of hill and dale in the scenery we passed through today, and sufficient wood for ornament but not enough to crowd the picture. the valleys were intersected by several small lakes and pools whose snowy covering was happily contrasted with the dark green of the pine-trees which surrounded them. after ascending a moderately high hill by a winding path through a close wood we opened suddenly upon lake iroquois and had a full view of its picturesque shores. we crossed it and encamped. though the sky was cloudless yet the weather was warm. we had the gratification of finding a beaten track soon after we started on the morning of the 12th and were thus enabled to walk briskly. we crossed at least twenty hills and found a small lake or pool at the foot of each. the destructive ravages of fire were visible during the greater part of the day. the only wood we saw for miles together consisted of pine-trees stripped of their branches and bark by this element: in other parts poplars alone were growing which we have remarked invariably to succeed the pine after a conflagration. we walked twenty miles today but the direct distance was only sixteen. the remains of an indian hut were found in a deep glen and close to it was placed a pile of wood which our companions supposed to cover a deposit of provision. our canadian voyagers, induced by their insatiable desire of procuring food, proceeded to remove the upper pieces and examine its contents when, to their surprise, they found the body of a female, clothed in leather, which appeared to have been recently placed there. her former garments, the materials for making a fire, a fishing-line, a hatchet, and a bark dish were laid beside the corpse. the wood was carefully replaced. a small owl, perched on a tree near to the spot, called forth many singular remarks from our companions as to its being a good or bad omen. we walked the whole of the 13th over flat meadow-land which is much resorted to by the buffalo at all seasons. some herds of them were seen which our hunters were too unskilful to approach. in the afternoon we reached the stinking lake which is nearly of an oval form. its shores are very low and swampy to which circumstances and not to the bad quality of the waters it owes its indian name. our observations place its western part in latitude 53 degrees 25 minutes 24 seconds north, longitude 107 degrees 18 minutes 58 seconds west, variation 20 degrees 32 minutes 10 seconds east. after a march of fifteen miles and a half we encamped among a few pines at the only spot where we saw sufficient wood for making our fire during the day. the next morning about an hour after we had commenced our march we came upon a beaten track and perceived recent marks of snowshoes. in a short time an iroquois joined us, who was residing with a party of cree indians, to secure the meat and furs they should collect for the north-west company. he accompanied us as far as the stage on which his meat was placed and then gave us a very pressing invitation to halt for the day and partake of his fare which, as the hour was too early, we declined, much to the annoyance of our canadian companions who had been cherishing the prospect of indulging their amazing appetites at this well-furnished store ever since the man had been with us. he gave them however a small supply previous to our parting. the route now crossed some ranges of hills on which fir, birch and poplar grew so thickly that we had much difficulty in getting the sledges through the narrow pathway between them. in the evening we descended from the elevated ground, crossed three swampy meadows, and encamped at their northern extremity within a cluster of large pine-trees, the branches of which were elegantly decorated with abundance of a greenish yellow lichen. our march was ten miles. the weather was very mild, almost too warm for the exercise we were taking. we had a strong gale from the north-west during the night which subsided as the morning opened. one of the sledges had been so much broken the day before in the woods that we had to divide its cargo among the others. we started after this had been arranged and, finding almost immediately a firm track, soon arrived at some indian lodges to which it led. the inhabitants were crees belonging to the posts on the saskatchewan from whence they had come to hunt beaver. we made but a short stay and proceeded through a swamp to pelican lake. our view to the right was bounded by a range of lofty hills which extended for several miles in a north and south direction which, it may be remarked, was that of all the hilly land we had passed since quitting the plain. pelican lake is of an irregular form, about six miles from east to west and eight from north to south; it decreases to the breadth of a mile towards the northern extremity and is there terminated by a creek. we went up this creek for a short distance and then struck into the woods and encamped among a cluster of the firs which the canadians term cypres (pinus banksiana) having come fourteen miles and a half. february 16. shortly after commencing the journey today we met an indian and his family who had come from the houses at green lake; they informed us the track was well beaten the whole way. we therefore put forth our utmost speed in the hope of reaching them by night but were disappointed, and had to halt at dark about twelve miles from them in a fisherman's hut which was unoccupied. frequent showers of snow fell during the day and the atmosphere was thick and gloomy. we started at an early hour the following morning and reached the hudson's bay company's post to breakfast, and were received very kindly by mr. macfarlane, the gentleman in charge. the other establishment, situated on the opposite side of the river, was under the direction of mr. dugald cameron, one of the partners of the north-west company on whom mr. back and i called soon after our arrival and were honoured with a salute of musketry. these establishments are small but said to be well situated for procuring furs; as the numerous creeks in their vicinity are much resorted to by the beaver, otter and musquash. the residents usually obtain a superabundant supply of provision. this season however they barely had sufficient for their own support, owing to the epidemic which has incapacitated the indians for hunting. the green lake lies nearly north and south, is eighteen miles in length and does not exceed one mile and a half of breadth in any part. the water is deep and it is in consequence one of the last lakes in the country that is frozen. excellent tittameg and trout are caught in it from march to december but after that time most of the fish remove to some larger lake. we remained two days awaiting the return of some men who had been sent to the indian lodges for meat and who were to go on with us. mr. back and i did not need this rest, having completely surmounted the pain occasioned by the snowshoes. we dined twice with mr. cameron and received from him many useful suggestions respecting our future operations. this gentleman, having informed us that provisions would probably be very scarce next spring in the athabasca department in consequence of the sickness of the indians during the hunting season, undertook at my request to cause a supply of pemmican to be conveyed from the saskatchewan to isle a la crosse for our use during the winter, and i wrote to apprise dr. richardson and mr. hood that they would find it at the latter post when they passed, and also to desire them to bring as much as the canoes would stow from cumberland. the atmosphere was clear and cold during our stay; observations were obtained at the hudson's bay fort, latitude 54 degrees 16 minutes 10 seconds north, longitude 107 degrees 29 minutes 52 seconds west, variation 22 degrees 6 minutes 35 seconds east. february 20. having been equipped with carioles, sledges and provisions from the two posts, we this day recommenced our journey and were much amused by the novelty of the salute given at our departure, the guns being principally fired by the women in the absence of the men. our course was directed to the end of the lake and for a short distance along a small river; we then crossed the woods to the beaver river which we found to be narrow and very serpentine, having moderately high banks. we encamped about one mile and a half farther up among poplars. the next day we proceeded along the river; it was winding and about two hundred yards broad. we passed the mouths of two rivers whose waters it receives; the latter one we were informed is a channel by which the indians go to the lesser slave lake. the banks of the river became higher as we advanced and were adorned with pines, poplars and willows. though the weather was very cold we travelled more comfortably than at any preceding time since our departure from cumberland as we had light carioles which enabled us to ride nearly the whole day warmly covered up with a buffalo robe. we were joined by mr. mcleod of the north-west company who had kindly brought some things from green lake which our sledges could not carry. pursuing our route along the river we reached at an early hour the upper extremity of the grand rapid where the ice was so rough that the carioles and sledges had to be conveyed across a point of land. soon after noon we left the river, inclining north-east, and directed our course north-west until we reached long lake and encamped at its northern extremity, having come twenty-three miles. this lake is about fourteen miles long and from three-quarters to one mile and a half broad, its shores and islands low but well wooded. there were frequent snow-showers during the day. isle a la crosse. february 23. the night was very stormy but the wind became more moderate in the morning. we passed today through several nameless lakes and swamps before we came to train lake which received its name from being the place where the traders procured the birch to make their sledges or traineaux; but this wood has been all used and there only remain pines and a few poplars. we met some sledges laden with fish, kindly sent to meet us by mr. clark of the hudson's bay company on hearing of our approach. towards the evening the weather became much more unpleasant and we were exposed to a piercingly cold wind and much snowdrift in traversing the isle a la crosse lake; we were therefore highly pleased at reaching the hudson's bay house by six p.m. we were received in the most friendly manner by mr. clark and honoured by volleys of musketry. similar marks of attention were shown to us on the following day by mr. bethune, the partner in charge of the north-west company's fort. i found here the letters which i had addressed from cumberland in november last to the partners of the north-west company in the athabasca, which circumstance convinced me of the necessity of our present journey. these establishments are situated on the southern side of the lake and close to each other. they are forts of considerable importance being placed at a point of communication with the english river, the athabasca and columbia districts. the country around them is low and intersected with water, and was formerly much frequented by beavers and otters which however have been so much hunted by the indians that their number is greatly decreased. the indians frequenting these forts are the crees and some chipewyans; they scarcely ever come except in the spring and autumn, in the former season to bring their winter's collection of furs and in the latter to get the stores they require. three chipewyan lads came in during our stay to report what furs the band to which they belonged had collected and to desire they might be sent for, the indians having declined bringing either furs or meat themselves since the opposition between the companies commenced. mr. back drew a portrait of one of the boys. isle a la crosse lake receives its name from an island situated near the forts on which the indians formerly assembled annually to amuse themselves at the game of the cross. it is justly celebrated for abundance of the finest tittameg, which weigh from five to fifteen pounds. the residents live principally upon this most delicious fish which fortunately can be eaten a long time without disrelish. it is plentifully caught with nets throughout the year except for two or three months. march 4. we witnessed the aurora borealis very brilliant for the second time since our departure from cumberland. a winter encampment is not a favourable situation for viewing this phenomenon as the trees in general hide the sky. arrangements had been made for recommencing our journey today but the wind was stormy and the snow had drifted too much for travelling with comfort; we therefore stayed and dined with mr. bethune who promised to render every assistance in getting pemmican conveyed to us from the saskatchewan to be in readiness for our canoes when they might arrive in the spring; mr. clark also engaged to procure six bags for us and to furnish our canoes with any other supplies which might be wanted and could be spared from his post, and to contribute his aid in forwarding the pemmican to the athabasca if our canoes could not carry it all. i feel greatly indebted to this gentleman for much valuable information respecting the country and the indians residing to the north of slave lake and for furnishing me with a list of stores he supposed we should require. he had resided some years on mackenzie's river and had been once so far towards its mouth as to meet the esquimaux in great numbers. but they assumed such a hostile attitude that he deemed it unadvisable to attempt opening any communication with them and retreated as speedily as he could. the observations we obtained here showed that the chronometers had varied their rates a little in consequence of the jolting of the carioles, but their errors and rates were ascertained previous to our departure. we observed the position of this fort to be latitude 55 degrees 25 minutes 35 seconds north, longitude 107 degrees 51 minutes 00 seconds west, by lunars reduced back from fort chipewyan, variation 22 degrees 15 minutes 48 seconds west, dip 84 degrees 13 minutes 35 seconds. march 5. we recommenced our journey this morning, having been supplied with the means of conveyance by both the companies in equal proportions. mr. clark accompanied us with the intention of going as far as the boundary of his district. this gentleman was an experienced winter traveller and we derived much benefit from his suggestions; he caused the men to arrange the encampment with more attention to comfort and shelter than our former companions had done. after marching eighteen miles we put up on gravel point in the deep river. at nine the next morning we came to the commencement of clear lake. we crossed its southern extremes and then went over a point of land to buffalo lake and encamped after travelling twenty-six miles. after supper we were entertained till midnight with paddling songs by our canadians who required very little stimulus beyond their natural vivacity to afford us this diversion. the next morning we arrived at the establishments which are situated on the western side of the lake near a small stream called the beaver river. they were small log buildings hastily erected last october for the convenience of the indians who hunt in the vicinity. mr. macmurray, a partner in the north-west company, having sent to isle a la crosse an invitation to mr. back and i, our carioles were driven to his post and we experienced the kindest reception. these posts are frequented by only a few indians, crees, and chipewyans. the country round is not sufficiently stocked with animals to afford support to many families and the traders subsist almost entirely on fish caught in the autumn prior to the lake being frozen but, the water being shallow, they remove to a deeper part as soon as the lake is covered with ice. the aurora borealis was brilliantly displayed on both the nights we remained here, but particularly on the 7th when its appearances were most diversified and the motion extremely rapid. its coruscations occasionally concealed from sight stars of the first magnitude in passing over them, at other times these were faintly discerned through them; once i perceived a stream of light to illumine the under surface of some clouds as it passed along. there was no perceptible noise. mr. macmurray gave a dance to his voyagers and the women; this is a treat which they expect on the arrival of any stranger at the post. we were presented by this gentleman with the valuable skin of a black fox which he had entrapped some days before our arrival; it was forwarded to england with other specimens. our observations place the north-west company's house in latitude 55 degrees 53 minutes 00 seconds north, longitude 108 degrees 51 minutes 10 seconds west, variation 22 degrees 33 minutes 22 seconds east. the shores of buffalo lake are of moderate height and well wooded but immediately beyond the bank the country is very swampy and intersected with water in every direction. at some distance from the western side there is a conspicuous hill which we hailed with much pleasure as being the first interruption to the tediously uniform scene we had for some time passed through. on the 10th we recommenced our journey after breakfast and travelled quickly as we had the advantage of a well-beaten track. at the end of eighteen miles we entered upon the river loche which has a serpentine course and is confined between alluvial banks that support stunted willows and a few pines; we encamped about three miles farther on and in the course of the next day's march perceived several holes on the ice and many unsafe places for the sledges. our companions said the ice of this river is always in the same insecure state, even during the most severe winter, which they attributed to warm springs. quitting the river we crossed a portage and came upon the methye lake and soon afterwards arrived at the trading posts on its western side. these were perfect huts which had been hastily built after the commencement of the last winter. we here saw two hunters who were chipewyan half-breeds and made many inquiries of them respecting the countries we expected to visit, but we found them quite ignorant of every part beyond the athabasca lake. they spoke of mr. hearne and of his companion matonnabee, but did not add to our stock of information respecting that journey. it had happened before their birth but they remembered the expedition of sir alexander mackenzie towards the sea. this is a picturesque lake about ten miles long and six broad and receives its name from a species of fish caught in it but not much esteemed; the residents never eat any part but the liver except through necessity, the dogs dislike even that. the tittameg and trout are also caught in the fall of the year. the position of the houses by our observations is latitude 56 degrees 24 minutes 20 seconds north, longitude 109 degrees 23 minutes 06 seconds west, variation 22 degrees 50 minutes 28 seconds east. on the 13th we renewed our journey and parted from mr. clark to whom we were much obliged for his hospitality and kindness. we soon reached the methye portage and had a very pleasant ride across it in our carioles. the track was good and led through groups of pines, so happily placed that it would not have required a great stretch of imagination to fancy ourselves in a well-arranged park. we had now to cross a small lake and then gradually ascended hills beyond it until we arrived at the summit of a lofty chain of mountains commanding the most picturesque and romantic prospect we had yet seen in this country. two ranges of high hills run parallel to each other for several miles until the faint blue haze hides their particular characters, when they slightly change their course and are lost to the view. the space between them is occupied by nearly a level plain through which a river pursues a meandering course and receives supplies from the creeks and rills issuing from the mountains on each side. the prospect was delightful even amid the snow and though marked with all the cheerless characters of winter; how much more charming must it be when the trees are in leaf and the ground is arrayed in summer verdure! some faint idea of the difference was conveyed to my mind by witnessing the effect of the departing rays of a brilliant sun. the distant prospect however is surpassed in grandeur by the wild scenery which appeared immediately below our feet. there the eye penetrates into vast ravines two or three hundred feet in depth that are clothed with trees and lie on either side of the narrow pathway descending to the river over eight successive ridges of hills. at one spot termed the cockscomb the traveller stands insulated as it were on a small slip where a false step might precipitate him into the glen. from this place mr. back took an interesting and accurate sketch to allow time for which we encamped early, having come twenty-one miles. the methye portage is about twelve miles in extent and over this space the canoes and all their cargoes are carried, both in going to and from the athabasca department. it is part of the range of mountains which separates the waters flowing south from those flowing north. according to sir alexander mackenzie "this range of hills continues in a south-west direction until its local height is lost between the saskatchewan and elk rivers, close on the banks of the former in latitude 53 degrees 36 minutes north, longitude 113 degrees 45 minutes west, when it appears to take its course due north." observations taken in the spring by mr. hood place the north side of the portage in latitude 56 degrees 41 minutes 40 seconds north, longitude 109 degrees 52 minutes 15 seconds west, variation 25 degrees 2 minutes 30 seconds east, dip 85 degrees 7 minutes 27 seconds. at daylight on the 14th we began to descend the range of hills leading towards the river, and no small care was required to prevent the sledges from being broken in going down these almost perpendicular heights, or being precipitated into the glens on each side. as a precautionary measure the dogs were taken off and the sledges guided by the men, notwithstanding which they descended with amazing rapidity and the men were thrown into the most ridiculous attitudes in endeavouring to stop them. when we had arrived at the bottom i could not but feel astonished at the laborious task which the voyagers have twice in the year to encounter at this place in conveying their stores backwards and forwards. we went across the clear water river which runs at the bases of these hills, and followed an indian track along its northern bank, by which we avoided the white mud and good portages. we afterwards followed the river as far as the pine portage, when we passed through a very romantic defile of rocks which presented the appearance of gothic ruins, and their rude characters were happily contrasted with the softness of the snow and the darker foliage of the pines which crowned their summits. we next crossed the cascade portage which is the last on the way to the athabasca lake, and soon afterwards came to some indian tents containing five families belonging to the chipewyan tribe. we smoked the calumet in the chief's tent, whose name was the thumb, and distributed some tobacco and a weak mixture of spirits and water among the men. they received this civility with much less grace than the crees, and seemed to consider it a matter of course. there was an utter neglect of cleanliness and a total want of comfort in their tents; and the poor creatures were miserably clothed. mr. frazer, who accompanied us from the methye lake, accounted for their being in this forlorn condition by explaining that this band of indians had recently destroyed everything they possessed as a token of their great grief for the loss of their relatives in the prevailing sickness. it appears that no article is spared by these unhappy men when a near relative dies; their clothes and tents are cut to pieces, their guns broken, and every other weapon rendered useless if some person do not remove these articles from their sight, which is seldom done. mr. back sketched one of the children which delighted the father very much, who charged the boy to be very good since his picture had been drawn by a great chief. we learned that they prize pictures very highly and esteem any they can get, however badly executed, as efficient charms. they were unable to give us any information respecting the country beyond the athabasca lake which is the boundary of their peregrinations to the northward. having been apprised of our coming they had prepared an encampment for us; but we had witnessed too many proofs of their importunity to expect that we could pass the night near them in any comfort whilst either spirits, tobacco or sugar remained in our possession; and therefore preferred to go about two miles farther along the river and to encamp among a cluster of fine pine-trees after a journey of sixteen miles. on the morning of the 15th, in proceeding along the river, we perceived a strong smell of sulphur, and on the north shore found a quantity of it scattered, which seemed to have been deposited by some spring in the neighbourhood: it appeared very pure and good. we continued our course the whole day along the river, which is about four hundred yards wide, has some islands, and is confined between low land extending from the bases of the mountains on each side. we put up at the end of thirteen miles and were then joined by a chipewyan who came, as we supposed, to serve as our guide to pierre au calumet but, as none of the party could communicate with our new friend otherwise than by signs, we waited patiently until the morning to see what he intended to do. the wind blew a gale during the night and the snow fell heavily. the next day our guide led us to the pembina river which comes from the southward where we found traces of indians who appeared to have quitted this station the day before; we had therefore the benefit of a good track which our dogs much required as they were greatly fatigued, having dragged their loads through very deep snow for the last two days. a moose-deer crossed the river just before the party: this animal is plentiful in the vicinity. we encamped in a pleasant well-sheltered place, having travelled fourteen miles. a short distance on the following morning brought us to some indian lodges which belonged to an old chipewyan chief named the sun and his family consisting of five hunters, their wives and children. they were delighted to see us and, when the object of our expedition had been explained to them, expressed themselves much interested in our progress; but they could not give a particle of information respecting the countries beyond the athabasca lake. we smoked with them and gave each person a glass of mixed spirits and some tobacco. a canadian servant of the north-west company who was residing with them informed us that this family had lost numerous relatives, and that the destruction of property which had been made after their deaths was the only cause for the pitiable condition in which we saw them as the whole family were industrious hunters and therefore were usually better provided with clothes and other useful articles than most of the indians. we purchased from them a pair of snowshoes in exchange for some ammunition. the chipewyans are celebrated for making them good and easy to walk in; we saw some here upwards of six feet long and three broad. with these unwieldy clogs an active hunter, in the spring when there is a crust on the surface of the snow, will run down a moose or red-deer. we made very slow progress after leaving this party on account of the deep snow, but continued along the river until we reached its junction with the athabasca or elk river. we obtained observations on an island a little below the forks which gave longitude 111 degrees 8 minutes 42 seconds west, variation 24 degrees 18 minutes 20 seconds east. very little wood was seen during this day's march. the western shore near the forks is destitute of trees; it is composed of lofty perpendicular cliffs which were now covered with snow. the eastern shore supports a few pines. march 18. soon after our departure from the encampment we met two men from the establishment at pierre au calumet, who gave us correct information of its situation and distance. having the benefit of their track we marched at a tolerably quick pace and made twenty-two miles in the course of the day though the weather was very disagreeable for travelling, being stormy with constant snow. we kept along the river the whole time: its breadth is about two miles. the islands appear better furnished with wood than its banks, the summits of which are almost bare. soon after we had encamped our indian guide rejoined us; he had remained behind the day before without consulting us to accompany a friend on a hunting excursion. on his return he made no endeavour to explain the reason of his absence but sat down coolly and began to prepare his supper. this behaviour made us sensible that little dependence is to be placed on the continuance of an indian guide when his inclination leads him away. early the next morning we sent forward the indian and a canadian to apprise the gentleman in charge of pierre au calumet of our approach; and after breakfast the rest of the party proceeded along the river for that station which we reached in the afternoon. the senior partner of the north-west company in the athabasca department, mr. john stuart, was in charge of the post. though he was quite ignorant until this morning of our being in the country we found him prepared to receive us with great kindness and ready to afford every information and assistance agreeably to the desire conveyed in mr. simon mcgillivray's circular letter. this gentleman had twice traversed this continent and reached the pacific by the columbia river; he was therefore fully conversant with the different modes of travelling and with the obstacles that may be expected in passing through unfrequented countries. his suggestions and advice were consequently very valuable to us but, not having been to the northward of the great slave lake, he had no knowledge of that line of country except what he had gained from the reports of indians. he was of opinion however that positive information on which our course of proceedings might safely be determined could be procured from the indians that frequent the north side of the lake when they came to the forts in the spring. he recommended my writing to the partner in charge of that department, requesting him to collect all the intelligence he could and to provide guides and hunters from the tribe best acquainted with the country through which we proposed to travel. to our great regret mr. stuart expressed much doubt as to our prevailing upon any experienced canadian voyagers to accompany us to the sea in consequence of their dread of the esquimaux who, he informed us, had already destroyed the crew of one canoe which had been sent under mr. livingstone to open a trading communication with those who reside near the mouth of the mackenzie river; and he also mentioned that the same tribe had driven away the canoes under mr. clark's direction, going to them on a similar object, to which circumstance i have alluded in my remarks at isle a la crosse. this was unpleasant information but we were comforted by mr. stuart's assurance that himself and his partners would use every endeavour to remove their fears as well as to promote our views in every other way; and he undertook as a necessary part of our equipment in the spring to prepare the bark and other materials for constructing two canoes at this post. mr. stuart informed us that the residents at fort chipewyan, from the recent sickness of their indian hunters, had been reduced to subsist entirely on the produce of their fishing-nets, which did not yield more than a bare sufficiency for their support; and he kindly proposed to us to remain with him until the spring but, as we were most desirous to gain all the information we could as early as possible and mr. stuart assured us that the addition of three persons would not be materially felt in their large family at chipewyan, we determined on proceeding thither and fixed on the 22nd for our departure. pierre au calumet receives its name from the place where the stone is procured, of which many of the pipes used by the canadians and indians are made. it is a clayey limestone, impregnated with various shells. the house, which is built on the summit of a steep bank rising almost perpendicular to the height of one hundred and eighty feet, commands an extensive prospect along this fine river and over the plains which stretch out several miles at the back of it, bounded by hills of considerable height and apparently better furnished with wood than the neighbourhood of the fort where the trees grow very scantily. there had been an establishment belonging to the hudson's bay company on the opposite bank of the river but it was abandoned in december last, the residents not being able to procure provision from their hunters having been disabled by the epidemic sickness which has carried off one-third of the indians in these parts. they belong to the northern crees, a name given them from their residing in the athabasca department. there are now but few families of these men who formerly by their numbers and predatory habits spread terror among the natives of this part of the country. there are springs of bituminous matter on several of the islands near these houses; and the stones on the riverbank are much impregnated with this useful substance. there is also another place remarkable for the production of a sulphureous salt which is deposited on the surface of a round-backed hill about half a mile from the beach and on the marshy ground underneath it. we visited these places at a subsequent period of the journey and descriptions of them will appear in dr. richardson's mineralogical notices. the latitude of the north-west company's house is 57 degrees 24 minutes 06 seconds north, but this was the only observation we could obtain, the atmosphere being cloudy. mr. stuart had an excellent thermometer which indicated the lowest state of temperature to be 43 degrees below zero. he told me 45 degrees was the lowest temperature he had ever witnessed at the athabasca or great slave lake after many years' residence. on the 21st it rose above zero and at noon attained the height of 43 degrees; the atmosphere was sultry, snow fell constantly, and there was quite an appearance of a change in the season. on the 22nd we parted from our hospitable friend and recommenced our journey, but under the expectation of seeing him again in may, at which time the partners of the company usually assemble at fort chipewyan where we hoped the necessary arrangements for our future proceedings would be completed. we encamped at sunset at the end of fourteen miles, having walked the whole way along the river which preserves nearly a true north course and is from four hundred to six hundred yards broad. the banks are high and well clothed with the liard, spruce, fir, alder, birch-tree and willows. having come nineteen miles and a half on the 23rd we encamped among pines of a great height and girth. showers of snow fell until noon on the following day but we continued our journey along the river whose banks and islands became gradually lower as we advanced and less abundantly supplied with wood except willows. we passed an old canadian who was resting his wearied dogs during the heat of the sun. he was carrying meat from some indian lodges to fort chipewyan, having a burden exceeding two hundred and fifty pounds on his sledge which was dragged by two miserable dogs. he came up to our encampment after dark. we were much amused by the altercation that took place between him and our canadian companions as to the qualifications of their respective dogs. this however is such a general topic of conversation among the voyagers in the encampment that we should not probably have remarked it had not the old man frequently offered to bet the whole of his wages that his two dogs, poor and lean as they were, would drag their load to the athabasca lake in less time than any three of theirs. having expressed our surprise at his apparent temerity he coolly said the men from the lower countries did not understand the management of their dogs and that he depended on his superior skill in driving, and we soon gathered from his remarks that the voyagers of the athabasca department consider themselves very superior to any other. the only reasons which he could assign were that they had borne their burdens across the terrible methye portage and that they were accustomed to live harder and more precariously. march 25. having now the guidance of the old canadian we sent forward the indian and one of our men with letters to the gentleman at the athabasca lake. the rest of the party set off afterwards and kept along the river until ten when we branched off by portages into the embarras river, the usual channel of communication in canoes with the lake. it is a narrow and serpentine stream confined between alluvial banks which support pines, poplars and willows. we had not advanced far before we overtook the two men despatched by us this morning. the stormy weather had compelled them to encamp as there was too much drifting of the snow for any attempt to cross the lake. we were obliged, though most reluctantly, to follow their example but comforted ourselves with the reflection that this was the first time we had been stopped by the weather during our long journey which was so near at an end. the gale afterwards increased, the squalls at night became very violent, disburdened the trees of the snow and gave us the benefit of a continual fall of patches from them, in addition to the constant shower. we therefore quickly finished our suppers and retired under the shelter of our blankets. arrival at fort chipewyan. march 26. the boisterous weather continued through the night and it was not before six this morning that the wind became apparently moderate and the snow ceased. two of the canadians were immediately sent off with letters to the gentlemen at fort chipewyan. after breakfast we also started but our indian friend, having a great indisposition to move in such weather, remained by the fire. we soon quitted the river and, after crossing a portage, a small lake and a point of land, came to the borders of the mammawee lake. we then found our error as to the strength of the wind, and that the gale still blew violently and there was so much drifting of the snow as to cover the distant objects by which our course could be directed. we fortunately got a glimpse through this cloud of a cluster of islands in the direction of the houses, and decided on walking towards them; but in doing this we suffered very much from the cold and were obliged to halt under the shelter of them and await the arrival of our indian guide. he conducted us between these islands, over a small lake, and by a swampy river into the athabasca lake, from whence the establishments were visible. at four p.m. we had the pleasure of arriving at fort chipewyan and of being received by messrs. keith and black, the partners of the north-west company in charge, in the most kind and hospitable manner. thus terminated a winter's journey of eight hundred and fifty-seven miles, in the progress of which there was a great intermixture of agreeable and disagreeable circumstances. could the amount of each be balanced i suspect the latter would much preponderate; and amongst these the initiation into walking in snowshoes must be considered as prominent. the suffering it occasions can be but faintly imagined by a person who thinks upon the inconvenience of marching with a weight of between two and three pounds constantly attached to galled feet and swelled ankles. perseverance and practice only will enable the novice to surmount this pain. the next evil is the being constantly exposed to witness the wanton and unnecessary cruelty of the men to their dogs, especially those of the canadians who beat them unmercifully and habitually vent on them the most dreadful and disgusting imprecations. there are other inconveniences which, though keenly felt during the day's journey, are speedily forgotten when stretched out in the encampment before a large fire, you enjoy the social mirth of your companions who usually pass the evening in recounting their former feats in travelling. at this time the canadians are always cheerful and merry and the only bar to their comfort arises from the frequent interruption occasioned by the dogs who are constantly prowling about the circle and snatching at every kind of food that happens to be within their reach. these useful animals are a comfort to them afterwards by the warmth they impart when lying down by their side or feet as they usually do. but the greatest gratifications a traveller in these regions enjoys are derived from the hospitable welcome he receives at every trading post, however poor the means of the host may be; and from being disrobed even for a short time of the trappings of a voyager and experiencing the pleasures of cleanness. the following are the estimated distances in statute miles which mr. back and i had travelled since our departure from cumberland: from cumberland house to carlton house: 263. from carlton house to isle a la crosse: 230. from isle a la crosse to north side of the methye portage: 124. from the methye portage to fort chipewyan: 240. total: 857 miles. chapter 5. transactions at fort chipewyan. arrival of dr. richardson and mr. hood. preparations for our journey to the northward. transactions at fort chipewyan. march 26, 1820. on the day after our arrival at fort chipewyan we called upon mr. macdonald, the gentleman in charge of the hudson's bay establishment called fort wedderburne, and delivered to him governor williams' circular letter which desired that every assistance should be given to further our progress, and a statement of the requisitions which we should have to make on his post. our first object was to obtain some certain information respecting our future route and accordingly we received from one of the north-west company's interpreters, named beaulieu, a half-breed who had been brought up amongst the dog-ribbed and copper indians, some satisfactory information which we afterwards found tolerably correct respecting the mode of reaching the copper-mine river which he had descended a considerable way, as well as of the course of that river to its mouth. the copper indians however he said would be able to give us more accurate information as to the latter part of its course as they occasionally pursue it to the sea. he sketched on the floor a representation of the river and a line of coast according to his idea of it. just as he had finished an old chipewyan indian named black meat unexpectedly came in and instantly recognised the plan. he then took the charcoal from beaulieu and inserted a track along the sea-coast which he had followed in returning from a war excursion made by his tribe against the esquimaux. he detailed several particulars of the coast and the sea which he represented as studded with well-wooded islands and free from ice close to the shore in the month of july, but not to a great distance. he described two other rivers to the eastward of the copper-mine river which also fall into the northern ocean, the anatessy, which issues from the contwayto or rum lake, and the thloueeatessy or fish river, which rises near the eastern boundary of the great slave lake; but he represented both of them as being shallow and too much interrupted by barriers for being navigated in any other than small indian canoes. having received this satisfactory intelligence i wrote immediately to mr. smith of the north-west company and mr. mcvicar of the hudson's bay company, the gentlemen in charge of the posts at the great slave lake, to communicate the object of the expedition and our proposed route, and to solicit any information they possessed or could collect from the indians relative to the countries we had to pass through and the best manner of proceeding. as the copper indians frequent the establishment on the north side of the lake i particularly requested them to explain to that tribe the object of our visit and to endeavour to procure from them some guides and hunters to accompany our party. two canadians were sent by mr. keith with these letters. the month of april commenced with fine and clear but extremely cold weather; unfortunately we were still without a thermometer and could not ascertain the degrees of temperature. the coruscations of the aurora borealis were very brilliant almost every evening of the first week and were generally of the most variable kind. on the 3rd they were particularly changeable. the first appearance exhibited three illuminated beams issuing from the horizon in the north, east, and west points, and directed towards the zenith; in a few seconds these disappeared and a complete circle was displayed, bounding the horizon at an elevation of fifteen degrees. there was a quick lateral motion in the attenuated beams of which this zone was composed. its colour was a pale yellow with an occasional tinge of red. on the 8th of april the indians saw some geese in the vicinity of this lake but none of the migratory birds appeared near the houses before the 15th when some swans flew over. these are generally the first that arrive; the weather had been very stormy for the four preceding days and this in all probability kept the birds from venturing farther north than where the indians had first seen them. in the middle of the month the snow began to waste daily and by degrees it disappeared from the hills and the surface of the lake. on the 17th and 19th the aurora borealis appeared very brilliant in patches of light bearing north-west. an old cree indian having found a beaver-lodge near to the fort, mr. keith, back, and i accompanied him to see the method of breaking into it and their mode of taking those interesting animals. the lodge was constructed on the side of a rock in a small lake having the entrance into it beneath the ice. the frames were formed of layers of sticks, the interstices being filled with mud, and the outside was plastered with earth and stones which the frost had so completely consolidated that to break through required great labour with the aid of the ice chisel and the other iron instruments which the beaver hunters use. the chase however was unsuccessful as the beaver had previously vacated the lodge. on the 21st we observed the first geese that flew near the fort and some were brought to the house on the 30th but they were very lean. on the 25th flies were seen sporting in the sun and on the 26th the athabasca river, having broken up, overflowed the lake along its channel; but except where this water spread there was no appearance of decay in the ice. may. during the first part of this month the wind blew from the north-west and the sky was cloudy. it generally thawed during the day but froze at night. on the 2nd the aurora borealis faintly gleamed through very dense clouds. we had a long conversation with mr. dease of the north-west company who had recently arrived from his station at the bottom of the athabasca lake. this gentleman, having passed several winters on the mackenzie's river and at the posts to the northward of slave lake, possessed considerable information respecting the indians and those parts of the country to which our inquiries were directed, which he very promptly and kindly communicated. during our conversation an old chipewyan indian named the rabbit's head entered the room, to whom mr. dease referred for information on some point. we found from his answer that he was a stepson of the late chief matonnabee who had accompanied mr. hearne on his journey to the sea, and that he had himself been of the party but, being then a mere boy, he had forgotten many of the circumstances. he confirmed however the leading incidents related by hearne and was positive he reached the sea, though he admitted that none of the party had tasted the water. he represented himself to be the only survivor of that party. as he was esteemed a good indian i presented him with a medal which he received gratefully and concluded a long speech upon the occasion by assuring me he should preserve it carefully all his life. the old man afterwards became more communicative and unsolicited began to relate the tradition of his tribe respecting the discovery of the copper-mine, which we thought amusing: and as the subject is somewhat connected with our future researches i will insert the translation of it which was given at the time by mr. dease, though a slight mention of it has been made by hearne. the chipewyans suppose the esquimaux originally inhabited some land to the northward which is separated by the sea from this country; and that in the earliest ages of the world a party of these men came over and stole a woman from their tribe whom they carried to this distant country and kept in a state of slavery. she was very unhappy in her situation and effected her escape after many years residence among them. the forlorn creature wandered about for some days in a state of uncertainty what direction to take, when she chanced to fall upon a beaten path which she followed and was led to the sea. at the sight of the ocean her hope of being able to return to her native country vanished and she sat herself down in despair and wept. a wolf now advanced to caress her and, having licked the tears from her eyes, walked into the water, and she perceived with joy that it did not reach up to the body of the animal; emboldened by this appearance she instantly arose, provided two sticks to support herself, and determined on following the wolf. the first and second nights she proceeded on without finding any increase in the depth of the water and, when fatigued, rested herself on the sticks whose upper ends she fastened together for the purpose. she was alarmed on the third morning by arriving at a deeper part, but resolved on going forward at any risk rather than return; and her daring perseverance was crowned with success by her attaining her native shore on the fifth day. she fortunately came to a part where there was a beaten path which she knew to be the track made by the reindeer in their migrations. here she halted and prepared some sort of weapon for killing them; as soon as this was completed she had the gratification to behold several herds advancing along the road, and had the happiness of killing a sufficient number for her winter's subsistence, which she determined to pass at that place, and therefore formed a house for herself after the manner she had learned from the esquimaux. when spring came and she emerged from her subterraneous dwelling (for such the chipewyans suppose it to have been) she was astonished by observing a glittering appearance on a distant hill which she knew was not produced by the reflection of the sun and, being at a loss to assign any other cause for it, she resolved on going up to the shining object and then found the hill was entirely composed of copper. she broke off several pieces and, finding it yielded so readily to her beating, it occurred to her that this metal would be very serviceable to her countrymen if she should find them again. while she was meditating on what was to be done the thought struck her that it would be advisable to attach as many pieces of copper to her dress as she could and then proceed into the interior in search of some inhabitants who, she supposed, would give her a favourable reception on account of the treasure she had brought. it happened that she met her own relations and the young men, elated with the account she had given of the hill, made her instantly return with them, which she was enabled to do, having taken the precaution of putting up marks to indicate the path. the party reached the spot in safety but the story had a melancholy catastrophe. these youths, overcome by excess of joy, gave loose to their passions and offered the grossest insults to their benefactress. she powerfully resisted them for some time and, when her strength was failing, fled to the point of the mountain as the only place of security. the moment she had gained the summit the earth opened and ingulphed both herself and the mountain to the utter dismay of the men who were not more astonished at its sudden disappearance than sorrowful for this just punishment of their wickedness. ever since this event the copper has only been found in small detached pieces on the surface of the earth. ... on the 10th of may we were gratified by the appearance of spring though the ice remained firm on the lake. the anemone (pulsatilla, pasque flower) appeared this day in flower, the trees began to put forth their leaves, and the mosquitoes visited the warm rooms. on the 17th and 18th there were frequent showers of rain and much thunder and lightning. this moist weather caused the ice to waste so rapidly that by the 24th it had entirely disappeared from the lake. the gentlemen belonging to both the companies quickly arrived from the different posts in this department, bringing their winter's collection of furs which are forwarded from these establishments to the depots. i immediately waited on mr. colin robertson, the agent of the hudson's bay company, and communicated to him, as i had done before to the several partners of the north-west company, our plan and the requisitions we should have to make on each company, and i requested of all the gentlemen the favour of their advice and suggestions. as i perceived that the arrangement of their winter accounts and other business fully occupied them i forbore further pressing the subject of our concerns for some days until there was an appearance of despatching the first brigade of canoes. it then became necessary to urge their attention to them; but it was evident from the determined commercial opposition and the total want of intercourse between the two companies that we could not expect to receive any cordial advice or the assurance of the aid of both without devising some expedient to bring the parties together. i therefore caused a tent to be pitched at a distance from both establishments and solicited the gentlemen of both companies to meet mr. back and myself there for the purpose of affording us their combined assistance. with this request they immediately complied and on may 25th we were joined at the tent by mr. stuart and mr. grant of the north-west company and mr. colin robertson of the hudson's bay company, all of whom kindly gave very satisfactory answers to a series of questions which we had drawn up for the occasion and promised all the aid in their power. preparations for our journey to the northward. furnished with the information thus obtained we proceeded to make some arrangements respecting the obtaining of men and the stores we should require for their equipment as well as for presents to the indians; and on the following day a requisition was made on the companies for eight men each and whatever useful stores they could supply. we learned with regret that, in consequence of the recent lavish expenditure of their goods in support of the opposition, their supply to us would of necessity be very limited. the men too were backward in offering their services, especially those of the hudson's bay company who demanded a much higher rate of wages than i considered it proper to grant. june 3. mr. smith, a partner of the north-west company, arrived from the great slave lake bearing the welcome news that the principal chief of the copper indians had received the communication of our arrival with joy and given all the intelligence he possessed respecting the route to the sea-coast by the copper-mine river; and that he and a party of his men, at the instance of mr. wentzel, a clerk of the north-west company whom they wished might go along with them, had engaged to accompany the expedition as guides and hunters. they were to wait our arrival at fort providence on the north side of the slave lake. their information coincided with that given by beaulieu. they had no doubt of our being able to obtain the means of subsistence in travelling to the coast. this agreeable intelligence had a happy effect upon the canadian voyagers, many of their fears being removed: several of them seemed now disposed to volunteer; and indeed on the same evening two men from the north-west company offered themselves and were accepted. june 5. this day mr. back and i went over to fort wedderburne to see mr. robertson respecting his quota of men. we learned from him that, notwithstanding his endeavours to persuade them, his most experienced voyagers still declined engaging without very exorbitant wages. after some hesitation however six men engaged with us who were represented to be active and steady; and i also got mr. robertson's permission for st. germain, an interpreter belonging to this company, to accompany us from slave lake if he should choose. the bowmen and steersmen were to receive one thousand six hundred livres halifax per annum, and the middle men one thousand two hundred, exclusive of their necessary equipments; and they stipulated that their wages should be continued until their arrival in montreal or their rejoining the service of their present employers. i delivered to mr. robertson an official request that the stores we had left at york factory and the rock depot with some other supplies might be forwarded to slave lake by the first brigade of canoes which should come in. he also took charge of my letters addressed to the admiralty. five men were afterwards engaged from the north-west company for the same wages and under the same stipulations as the others, besides an interpreter for the copper indians; but this man required three thousand livres halifax currency which we were obliged to give him as his services were indispensable. the extreme scarcity of provision at the posts rendered it necessary to despatch all our men to the mammawee lake where they might procure their own subsistence by fishing. the women and children resident at the fort were also sent away for the same purpose; and no other families were permitted to remain at the houses after the departure of the canoes than those belonging to the men who were required to carry on the daily duty. the large party of officers and men which had assembled here from the different posts in the department was again quickly dispersed. the first brigade of canoes laden with furs was despatched to the depot on may 30th and the others followed in two or three days afterwards. mr. stuart, the senior partner of the north-west company, quitted us for the same destination on june 4th; mr. robertson for his depot on the next day; and on the 9th we parted with our friend mr. keith, to whose unremitting kindness we felt much indebted. i entrusted to his care a box containing some drawings by mr. back, the map of our route from cumberland house, and the skin of a black beaver (presented to the expedition by mr. smith) with my official letters addressed to the under-secretary of state. i wrote by each of these gentlemen to inform dr. richardson and mr. hood of the scarcity of stores at these posts and to request them to procure all they possibly could on their route. mr. smith was left in charge of this post during the summer; this gentleman soon evinced his desire to further our progress by directing a new canoe to be built for our use which was commenced immediately. june 21. this day an opportunity offered of sending letters to the great slave lake and i profited by it to request mr. wentzel would accompany the expedition agreeably to the desire of the copper indians, communicating to him that i had received permission for him to do so from the partners of the north-west company. should he be disposed to comply with my invitation i desired that he would go over to fort providence and remain near the indians whom he had engaged for our service. i feared lest they should become impatient at our unexpected delay and, with the usual fickleness of the indian character, remove from the establishment before we could arrive. it had been my intention to go to them myself, could the articles with which they expected to be presented on my arrival have been provided at these establishments; but as they could not be procured i was compelled to defer my visit until our canoes should arrive. mr. smith supposed that my appearance amongst them without the means of satisfying any of their desires would give them an unfavourable impression respecting the expedition which would make them indifferent to exertion if it did not even cause them to withdraw from their engagements. the establishments at this place, forts chipewyan and wedderburne, the chief posts of the companies in this department, are conveniently situated for communicating with the slave and peace rivers from whence the canoes assemble in the spring and autumn; on the first occasion they bring the collection of furs which has been made at the different outposts during the winter; and at the latter season they receive a supply of stores for the equipment of the indians in their vicinity. fort wedderburne is a small house which was constructed on coal island about five years ago when the hudson's bay company recommenced trading in this part of the country. fort chipewyan has been built many years and is an establishment of very considerable extent, conspicuously situated on a rocky point of the northern shore; it has a tower which can be seen at a considerable distance. this addition was made about eight years ago to watch the motions of the indians who intended, as it was then reported, to destroy the house and all its inhabitants. they had been instigated to this rash design by the delusive stories of one among them who had acquired great influence over his companions by his supposed skill in necromancy. this fellow had prophesied that there would soon be a complete change in the face of their country, that fertility and plenty would succeed to the present sterility, and that the present race of white inhabitants, unless they became subservient to the indians, would be removed and their place be filled by other traders who would supply their wants in every possible manner. the poor deluded wretches, imagining they would hasten this happy change by destroying their present traders, of whose submission there was no prospect, threatened to extirpate them. none of these menaces however were put in execution. they were probably deterred from the attempt by perceiving that a most vigilant guard was kept against them. the portion of this extensive lake which is near the establishments is called the lake of the hills, not improperly as the northern shore and the islands are high and rocky. the south side however is quite level, consisting of alluvial land, subject to be flooded, lying betwixt the different mouths of the elk river and much intersected by water. the rocks of the northern shore are composed of syenite over which the soil is thinly spread; it is however sufficient to support a variety of firs and poplars and many shrubs, lichens and mosses. the trees were now in full foliage, the plants generally in flower, and the whole scene quite enlivening. there can scarcely be a higher gratification than that which is enjoyed in this country in witnessing the rapid change which takes place in the course of a few days in the spring; scarcely does the snow disappear from the ground before the trees are clothed with thick foliage, the shrubs open their leaves and put forth their variegated flowers, and the whole prospect becomes animating. the spaces between the rocky hills, being for the most part swampy, support willows and a few poplars. these spots are the favourite resort of the mosquitoes, which incessantly torment the unfortunate persons who have to pass through them. some of the hills attain an elevation of five or six hundred feet at the distance of a mile from the house; and from their summits a very picturesque view is commanded of the lake and of the surrounding country. the land above the great point at the confluence of the main stream of the elk river is six or seven hundred feet high and stretches in a southern direction behind pierre au calumet. opposite to that establishment, on the west side of the river, at some distance in the interior, the bark mountain rises and ranges to the north-west until it reaches clear lake, about thirty miles to the southward of these forts, and then goes to the south-westward. the cree indians generally procure from this range their provision as well as the bark for making their canoes. there is another range of hills on the south shore which runs towards the peace river. the residents of these establishments depend for subsistence almost entirely on the fish which this lake affords; they are usually caught in sufficient abundance throughout the winter though at the distance of eighteen miles from the houses; on the thawing of the ice the fish remove into some smaller lakes and the rivers to the south shore. though they are nearer to the forts than in winter it frequently happens that high winds prevent the canoes from transporting them thither and the residents are kept in consequence without a supply of food for two or three days together. the fish caught in the net are the attihhawmegh, trout, carp, methye, and pike.* (*footnote. see above.) the traders also get supplied by the hunters with buffalo and moose-deer meat (which animals are found at some distance from the forts) but the greater part of it is either in a dried state or pounded ready for making pemmican and is required for the men whom they keep travelling during the winter to collect the furs from the indians, and for the crews of the canoes on their outward passage to the depots in spring. there was a great want of provision this season, and both the companies had much difficulty to provide a bare sufficiency for their different brigades of canoes. mr. smith assured me that after the canoes had been despatched he had only five hundred pounds of meat remaining for the use of the men who might travel from the post during the summer and that, five years preceding, there had been thirty thousand pounds in store under similar circumstances. he ascribed this amazing difference more to the indolent habits which the indians had acquired since the commercial struggle commenced than to their recent sickness, mentioning in confirmation of his opinion that they could now, by the produce of little exertion, obtain whatever they demanded from either establishment. at the opening of the water in spring the indians resort to the establishments to settle their accounts with the traders and to procure the necessaries they require for the summer. this meeting is generally a scene of much riot and confusion as the hunters receive such quantities of spirits as to keep them in a state of intoxication for several days. this spring however, owing to the great deficiency of spirits, we had the gratification of seeing them generally sober. they belong to the great family of the chipewyan or northern indians, dialects of their language being spoken in the peace and mackenzie's rivers and by the populous tribes in new caledonia, as ascertained by sir alexander mackenzie in his journey to the pacific. they style themselves generally dinneh men or indians, but each tribe or horde adds some distinctive epithet taken from the name of the river or lake on which they hunt, or the district from which they last migrated. those who come to fort chipewyan term themselves saweessawdinneh (indians from the rising sun or eastern indians) their original hunting grounds being between the athabasca and great slave lakes and churchill river. this district, more particularly termed the chipewyan lands or barren country, is frequented by numerous herds of reindeer which furnish easy subsistence and clothing to the indians, but the traders endeavour to keep them in the parts to the westward where the beavers resort. there are about one hundred and sixty hunters who carry their furs to the great slave lake, forty to hay river, and two hundred and forty to fort chipewyan. a few northern indians also resort to the posts at the bottom of the lake of the hills, on red deer lake, and to churchill. the distance however of the latter post from their hunting grounds and the sufferings to which they are exposed in going thither from want of food have induced those who were formerly accustomed to visit it to convey their furs to some nearer station. these people are so minutely described by hearne and mackenzie that little can be added by a passing stranger whose observations were made during short interviews and when they were at the forts, where they lay aside many of their distinguishing characteristics and strive to imitate the manners of the voyagers and traders. the chipewyans are by no means prepossessing in appearance: they have broad faces, projecting cheek-bones and wide nostrils; but they have generally good teeth and fine eyes. when at the fort they imitate the dress of the canadians except that instead of trousers they prefer the indian stockings, which only reach from the thigh to the ankle, and in place of the waistband they have a piece of cloth round the middle which hangs down loosely before and behind. their hunting dress consists of a leathern shirt and stockings over which a blanket is thrown, the head being covered with a fur cap or band. their manner is reserved and their habits are selfish; they beg with unceasing importunity for everything they see. i never saw men who either received or bestowed a gift with such bad grace; they almost snatch the thing from you in the one instance and throw it at you in the other. it could not be expected that such men should display in their tents the amiable hospitality which prevails generally amongst the indians of this country. a stranger may go away hungry from their lodges unless he possess sufficient impudence to thrust uninvited his knife into the kettle and help himself. the owner indeed never deigns to take any notice of such an act of rudeness except by a frown, it being beneath the dignity of a hunter to make disturbance about a piece of meat. as some relief to the darker shades of their character it should be stated that instances of theft are extremely rare amongst them. they profess strong affection for their children and some regard for their relations who are often numerous, as they trace very far the ties of consanguinity. a curious instance of the former was mentioned to us and so well authenticated that i shall venture to give it in the words of dr. richardson's journal: a young chipewyan had separated from the rest of his band for the purpose of trenching beaver when his wife, who was his sole companion and in her first pregnancy, was seized with the pains of labour. she died on the third day after she had given birth to a boy. the husband was inconsolable and vowed in his anguish never to take another woman to wife, but his grief was soon in some degree absorbed in anxiety for the fate of his infant son. to preserve its life he descended to the office of nurse, so degrading in the eyes of a chipewyan as partaking of the duties of a woman. he swaddled it in soft moss, fed it with broth made from the flesh of the deer and, to still its cries, applied it to his breast, praying earnestly to the great master of life to assist his endeavours. the force of the powerful passion by which he was actuated produced the same effect in his case as it has done in some others which are recorded: a flow of milk actually took place from his breast. he succeeded in rearing his child, taught him to be a hunter and, when he attained the age of manhood, chose him a wife from the tribe. the old man kept his vow in never taking a second wife himself but he delighted in tending his son's children and, when his daughter-in-law used to interfere, saying that it was not the occupation of a man, he was wont to reply that he had promised to the great master of life, if his child were spared, never to be proud like the other indians. he used to mention too, as a certain proof of the approbation of providence that, although he was always obliged to carry his child on his back while hunting, yet that it never roused a moose by its cries, being always particularly still at those times. our informant* added that he had often seen this indian in his old age and that his left breast even then retained the unusual size it had acquired in his occupation of nurse. (*footnote. mr. wentzel.) ... we had proof of their sensibility towards their relations in their declining to pitch their tents where they had been accustomed for many years, alleging a fear of being reminded of the happy hours they had formerly spent there in the society of the affectionate relatives whom the sickness had recently carried off. the change of situation however had not the effect of relieving them from sorrowful impressions, and they occasionally indulged in very loud lamentations as they sat in groups within and without their tents. unfortunately the spreading of a severe dysentery amongst them at this time gave occasion for the renewal of their grief. the medicinal charms of drumming and singing were plentifully applied and once they had recourse to conjuring over a sick person. i was informed however that the northern indians do not make this expedient for the cure of a patient so often as the crees; but when they do the conjurer is most assiduous and suffers great personal fatigue. particular persons only are trained in the mysteries of the art of conjuring to procure the recovery of the sick or to disclose future events. on extraordinary occasions the man remains in his narrow conjuring tents for days without eating before he can determine the matter to his satisfaction. when he is consulted about the sick the patient is shut up with him; but on other occasions he is alone and the poor creature often works his mind up to a pitch of illusion that can scarcely be imagined by one who has not witnessed it. his deluded companions seat themselves round his tent and await his communication with earnest anxiety, yet during the progress of his manoeuvres they often venture to question him as to the disposition of the great spirit. these artful fellows usually gain complete ascendancy over the minds of their companions. they are supported by voluntary contributions of provision that their minds may not be diverted by the labour of hunting from the peculiar duties of their profession. the chiefs among the chipewyans are now totally without power. the presents of a flag and a gaudy dress still bestowed upon them by the traders do not procure for them any respect or obedience except from the youths of their own families. this is to be attributed mainly to their living at peace with their neighbours and to the facility which the young men find in getting their wants supplied independent of the recommendation of the chiefs which was formerly required. in war excursions boldness and intrepidity would still command respect and procure authority; but the influence thus acquired would probably cease with the occasion that called it forth. the traders however endeavour to support their authority by continuing towards them the accustomed marks of respect hoisting the flag and firing a salute of musketry on their entering the fort. the chief halts at a distance from the house and despatches one of his young men to announce his approach and to bring his flag, which is carried before him when he arrives. the messenger carries back to him some vermilion to ornament the faces of his party, together with a looking-glass and comb, some tobacco, and a few rounds of ammunition that they may return the salute. these men paint round the eyes, the forehead, and the cheekbones. the northern indians evince no little vanity by assuming to themselves the comprehensive title of the people, whilst they designate all other nations by the name of their particular country. if men were seen at a distance and a chipewyan was asked who those persons were he would answer the people if he recognised them to belong to his tribe and never chipewyans; but he would give them their respective names if they were europeans, canadians, or cree indians. as they suppose their ancestors to come originally from the east those who happen to be born in the eastern part of their territory are considered to be of the purest race. i have been informed that all the indians who trade at the different posts in the north-west parts of america imagine that their forefathers came from the east, except the dog-ribs who reside between the copper indian islands and the mackenzie's river and who deduce their origin from the west, which is the more remarkable as they speak a dialect of the chipewyan language. i could gather no information respecting their religious opinions except that they have a tradition of the deluge. the chipewyans are considered to be less expert hunters than the crees, which probably arises from their residing much on the barren lands where the reindeer are so numerous that little skill is requisite. a good hunter however is highly esteemed among them. the facility of procuring goods since the commercial opposition commenced has given great encouragement to their native indolence of disposition, as is manifested by the difference in the amount of their collections of furs and provision between the late and former years. from six to eight hundred packs of furs used formerly to be sent from this department, now the return seldom exceeds half that amount. the decrease in the provision has been already mentioned. the northern indians suppose that they originally sprang from a dog; and about five years ago a superstitious fanatic so strongly impressed upon their minds the impropriety of employing these animals, to which they were related, for purposes of labour that they universally resolved against using them any more and, strange as it may seem, destroyed them. they now have to drag everything themselves on sledges. this laborious task falls most heavily on the women; nothing can more shock the feelings of a person accustomed to civilised life than to witness the state of their degradation. when a party is on a march the women have to drag the tent, the meat, and whatever the hunter possesses, whilst he only carries his gun and medicine case. in the evening they form the encampment, cut wood, fetch water, and prepare the supper; and then, perhaps, are not permitted to partake of the fare until the men have finished. a successful hunter sometimes has two or three wives; whoever happens to be the favourite assumes authority over the others and has the management of the tent. these men usually treat their wives unkindly and even with harshness; except indeed when they are about to increase the family and then they show them much indulgence. hearne charges the chipewyans with the dreadful practice of abandoning, in extremity, their aged and sick people. the only instance that came under our personal notice was attended with some palliating circumstances: an old woman arrived at fort chipewyan during our residence with her son, a little boy about ten years old, both of whom had been deserted by their relations and left in an encampment when much reduced by sickness: two or three days after their departure the woman gained a little strength and, with the assistance of the boy, was enabled to paddle a canoe to the fishing station of this post where they were supported for some days until they were enabled to proceed in search of some other relations who they expected would treat them with more kindness. i learned that the woman bore an extremely bad character, having even been guilty of infanticide and that her companions considered her offences merited the desertion. this tribe since its present intimate connection with the traders has discontinued its war excursions against the esquimaux, but they still speak of that nation in terms of the most inveterate hatred. we have only conversed with four men who have been engaged in any of those expeditions; all these confirm the statements of black meat respecting the sea-coast. our observations concerning the half-breed population in this vicinity coincided so exactly with those which have been given of similar persons in dr. richardson's account of the crees that any statement respecting them at this place is unnecessary. both the companies have wisely prohibited their servants from intermarrying with pure indian women, which was formerly the cause of many quarrels with the tribes. the weather was extremely variable during the month of june; we scarcely had two clear days in succession, and the showers of rain were frequent; the winds were often strong and generally blowing from the north-east quarter. on the evening of the 16th the aurora borealis was visible but after that date the nights were too light for our discerning it. the mosquitoes swarmed in great numbers about the house and tormented us so incessantly by their irritating stings that we were compelled to keep our rooms constantly filled with smoke which is the only means of driving them away: the weather indeed was now warm. having received one of dollond's eighteen-inch spirit thermometers from mr. stuart, which he had the kindness to send us from his post at pierre au calumet after he had learned that ours had been rendered useless, i observed the temperature at noon on the 25th of june to be 63 degrees. on the following morning we made an excursion accompanied by mr. smith round the fishing stations on the south side of the lake for the purpose of visiting our men; we passed several groups of women and children belonging to both the forts, posted wherever they could find a sufficiently dry spot for an encampment. at length we came to our men, pitched upon a narrow strip of land situated between two rivers. though the portion of dry ground did not exceed fifty yards yet they appeared to be living very comfortably, having formed huts with the canoe's sail and covering, and were amply supported by the fish their nets daily furnished. they sometimes had a change in their fare by procuring a few ducks and other waterfowl which resort in great abundance to the marshes by which they were surrounded. july 2. the canoe which was ordered to be built for our use was finished. as it was constructed after the manner described by hearne and several of the american travellers a detail of the process will be unnecessary. its extreme length was thirty-two feet six inches, including the bow and stern pieces, its greatest breadth was four feet ten inches, but it was only two feet nine inches forward where the bowman sat, and two feet four inches behind where the steersman was placed, and its depth was one foot eleven and a quarter inches. there were seventy-three hoops of thin cedar and a layer of slender laths of the same wood within the frame. these feeble vessels of bark will carry twenty-five pieces of goods, each weighing ninety pounds exclusive of the necessary provision and baggage for the crew of five or six men, amounting in the whole to about three thousand three hundred pounds' weight. this great lading they annually carry between the depots and the posts in the interior; and it rarely happens that any accidents occur if they be managed by experienced bowmen and steersmen, on whose skill the safety of the canoe entirely depends in the rapids and difficult places. when a total portage is made these two men carry the canoe, and they often run with it though its weight is estimated at about three hundred pounds exclusive of the poles and oars which are occasionally left in where the distance is short. on the 5th we made an excursion for the purpose of trying our canoe. a heavy gale came on in the evening which caused a great swell in the lake and in crossing the waves we had the satisfaction to find that our birchen vessel proved an excellent sea-boat. july 7. this morning some men and their families, who had been sent off to search for indians with whom they intended to pass the summer, returned to the fort in consequence of a serious accident having befallen their canoe in the red deer river; when they were in the act of hauling up a strong rapid the line broke, the canoe was overturned, and two of the party narrowly escaped drowning; fortunately the women and children happened to be on shore or in all probability they would have perished in the confusion of the scene. nearly all their stores, their guns and fishing nets were lost, and they could not procure any other food for the last four days than some unripe berries. some gentlemen arrived in the evening with a party of chipewyan indians from hay river, a post between the peace river and the great slave lake. these men gave distressing accounts of sickness among their relatives and the indians in general along the peace river, and they said many of them have died. the disease was described as dysentery. on the 10th and 11th we had very sultry weather and were dreadfully tormented by mosquitoes. the highest temperature was 73 degrees. arrival of dr. richardson and mr. hood. july 13. this morning mr. back and i had the sincere gratification of welcoming our long-separated friends, dr. richardson and mr. hood, who arrived in perfect health with two canoes, having made a very expeditious journey from cumberland notwithstanding they were detained near three days in consequence of the melancholy loss of one of their bowmen by the upsetting of a canoe in a strong rapid but, as the occurrences of this journey together with the mention of some other circumstances that happened previous to their departure from cumberland, which have been extracted from mr. hood's narrative, will appear in the following chapter, it will be unnecessary to enter further into these points now. the zeal and talent displayed by dr. richardson and mr. hood in the discharge of their several duties since my separation from them drew forth my highest approbation. these gentlemen had brought all the stores they could procure from the establishments at cumberland and isle a la crosse; and at the latter place they had received ten bags of pemmican from the north-west company, which proved to be mouldy and so totally unfit for use that it was left at the methye portage. they got none from the hudson's bay post. the voyagers belonging to that company, being destitute of provision, had eaten what was intended for us. in consequence of these untoward circumstances the canoes arrived with only one day's supply of this most essential article. the prospect of having to commence our journey from hence almost destitute of provision and scantily supplied with stores was distressing to us and very discouraging to the men. it was evident however that any unnecessary delay here would have been very imprudent as fort chipewyan did not at the present time furnish the means of subsistence for so large a party, much less was there a prospect of our receiving a supply to carry us forward. we therefore hastened to make the necessary arrangements for our speedy departure. all the stores were demanded that could possibly be spared from both the establishments; and we rejoiced to find that, when this collection was added to the articles that had been brought up by the canoes, we had a sufficient quantity of clothing for the equipment of the men who had been engaged here, as well as to furnish a present to the indians, besides some few goods for the winter's consumption; but we could not procure any ammunition which was the most essential article, or spirits, and but little tobacco. we then made a final arrangement respecting the voyagers who were to accompany the party; and fortunately there was no difficulty in doing this as dr. richardson and mr. hood had taken the very judicious precaution of bringing up ten men from cumberland who were engaged to proceed forward if their services were required. the canadians whom they brought were most desirous of being continued, and we felt sincere pleasure in being able to keep men who were so zealous in the cause and who had given proofs of their activity on their recent passage to this place by discharging those men who were less willing to undertake the journey; of these three were englishmen, one american, and three canadians. when the numbers were completed which we had been recommended by the traders to take as a protection against the esquimaux we had sixteen canadian voyagers and our worthy and only english attendant john hepburn, besides the two interpreters whom we were to receive at the great slave lake; we were also accompanied by a chipewyan woman. an equipment of goods was given to each of the men who had been engaged at this place similar to what had been furnished to the others at cumberland; and when this distribution had been made the remainder were made up into bales preparatory to our departure on the following day. we were cheerfully assisted in these and all our occupations by mr. smith who evinced an anxious desire to supply our wants as far as his means permitted. mr. hood having brought up the dipping needle from cumberland house, we ascertained the dip to be 85 degrees 23 minutes 42 seconds, and the difference produced by reversing the face of the instrument was 6 degrees 2 minutes 10 seconds. the intensity of the magnetic force was also observed. several observations had been procured on both sides of the moon during our residence at fort chipewyan, the result of which gave for its longitude 111 degrees 18 minutes 20 seconds west, its latitude was observed to be 58 degrees 42 minutes 38 seconds north, and the variation of the compass 22 degrees 49 minutes 32 seconds east. fresh rates were procured for the chronometers and their errors determined for greenwich time by which the survey to the northward was carried on. chapter 6. mr. hood's journey to the basquiau hill. sojourns with an indian party. his journey to chipewyan. mr. hood's journey to the basquiau hill. march, 1820. being desirous of obtaining a drawing of a moose-deer, and also of making some observation on the height of the aurora borealis, i set out on the 23rd to pass a few days at the basquiau hill. two men accompanied me with dogs and sledges who were going to the hill for meat. we found the saskatchewan open and were obliged to follow it several miles to the eastward. we did not then cross it without wading in water which had overflowed the ice, and our snowshoes were encumbered with a heavy weight for the remainder of the day. on the south bank of the saskatchewan were some poplars ten or twelve feet in circumference at the root. beyond the river we traversed an extensive swamp bounded by woods. in the evening we crossed the swan lake, about six miles in breadth and eight in length, and halted on its south side for the night, twenty-four miles south-south-west of cumberland house. at four in the morning of the 24th we continued the journey and crossed some creeks in the woods and another large swamp. these swamps are covered with water in summer to the depth of several feet which arises from the melted snow from the higher grounds. the tracks of foxes, wolves, wolverines and martens were very numerous. the people employed in carrying meat set traps on their way out and take possession of their captures at their return, for which they receive a sum from the company proportioned to the value of the fur. in the evening we crossed the goose lake which is a little longer than swan lake and afterwards the river sepanach, a branch of the saskatchewan forming an island extending thirty miles above and forty below cumberland house. we turned to the westward on the root river which enters the sepanach and halted on its banks, having made in direct distance not more than twenty miles since the 23rd. we passed the shoal lake on the 25th and then marched twelve miles through woods and swamps to a hunting tent of the indians. it was situated in a grove of large poplars and would have been no unpleasant residence if we could have avoided the smoke. a heavy gale from the westward with snow confined us for several days to this tent. on the 30th two indians arrived, one of whom, named the warrior, was well known at the house. we endeavoured to prevail upon them to set out in quest of moose which they agreed to do on receiving some rum. promises were of no avail; the smallest present gratification is preferred to the certainty of ample reward at another period; an unfailing indication of strong animal passions and a weak understanding. on our compliance with their demand they departed. the next day i went to the warrior's tent distant about eleven miles. the country was materially changed: the pine had disappeared and gentle slopes with clumps of large poplars formed some pleasing groups: willows were scattered over the swamps. when i entered the tent the indians spread a buffalo robe before the fire and desired me to sit down. some were eating, others sleeping, many of them without any covering except the breechcloth and a blanket over the shoulders, a state in which they love to indulge themselves till hunger drives them forth to the chase. besides the warrior's family there was that of another hunter named long-legs whose bad success in hunting had reduced him to the necessity of feeding on moose leather for three weeks when he was compassionately relieved by the warrior. i was an unwilling witness of the preparation of my dinner by the indian women. they cut into pieces a portion of fat meat, using for that purpose a knife and their teeth. it was boiled in a kettle and served in a platter made of birch bark from which, being dirty, they had peeled the surface. however the flavour of good moose meat will survive any process that it undergoes in their hands except smoking. having provided myself with some drawing materials i amused the indians with a sketch of the interior of the tent and its inhabitants. an old woman who was relating with great volubility an account of some quarrel with the traders at cumberland house broke off from her narration when she perceived my design, supposing perhaps that i was employing some charm against her; for the indians have been taught a supernatural dread of particular pictures. one of the young men drew with a piece of charcoal a figure resembling a frog on the side of the tent and, by significantly pointing at me, excited peals of merriment from his companions. the caricature was comic, but i soon fixed their attention by producing my pocket compass and affecting it with a knife. they have great curiosity which might easily be directed to the attainment of useful knowledge. as the dirt accumulated about these people was visibly of a communicative nature i removed at night into the open air where the thermometer fell to 15 degrees below zero although it was the next day 60 degrees above it. in the morning the warrior and his companion arrived; i found that, instead of hunting, they had passed the whole time in a drunken fit at a short distance from the tent. in reply to our angry questions the warrior held out an empty vessel as if to demand the payment of a debt before he entered into any new negotiation. not being inclined to starve his family we set out for another indian tent ten miles to the southward, but we found only the frame or tent poles standing when we reached the spot. the men, by digging where the fireplace had been, ascertained that the indians had quitted it the day before and, as their marches are short when encumbered with the women and baggage, we sought out their track and followed it. at an abrupt angle of it which was obscured by trees the men suddenly disappeared and, hastening forward to discover the cause, i perceived them both still rolling at the foot of a steep cliff over which they had been dragged while endeavouring to stop the descent of their sledges. the dogs were gazing silently with the wreck of their harness about them and the sledges deeply buried in the snow. the effects of this accident did not detain us long and we proceeded afterwards with greater caution. sojourns with an indian party. the air was warm at noon and the solitary but sweet notes of the jay, the earliest spring bird, were in every wood. late in the evening we descried the ravens wheeling in circles round a small grove of poplars and, according to our expectations, found the indians encamped there. the men were absent hunting and returned unsuccessful. they had been several days without provisions and, thinking that i could depend upon the continuance of their exertions, i gave them a little rum; the next day their set out and at midnight they swept by us with their dogs in close pursuit. in the morning we found that a moose had eaten the bark of a tree near our fire. the hunters however again failed; and they attributed the extreme difficulty of approaching the chase to the calmness of the weather, which enabled it to hear them at a great distance. they concluded, as usual when labouring under any affliction, that they were tormented by the evil spirit, and assembled to beat a large tambourine and sing an address to the manito or deity, praying for relief according to the explanation which i received; but their prayer consisted of only three words constantly repeated. one of the hunters yet remained abroad and, as the wind rose at noon, we had hopes that he was successful. in the evening he made his appearance and, announcing that he had killed a large moose, immediately secured the reward which had been promised. the tidings were received with apparent indifference by people whose lives are alternate changes from the extremity of want to abundance. but as their countenances seldom betray their emotions it cannot be determined whether their apathy is real or affected. however the women prepared their sledges and dogs with the design of dismembering and bringing home the carcass, a proceeding to which, in their necessitous condition, i could have had neither reasonable nor available objections without giving them a substitute. by much solicitation i obtained an audience and offered them our own provisions on condition of their suspending the work of destruction till the next day. they agreed to the proposition and we set out with some indians for the place where the animal was lying. the night advancing we were separated by a snowstorm and, not being skilful enough to follow tracks which were so speedily filled up, i was bewildered for several hours in the woods, when i met with an indian who led me back at such a pace that i was always in the rear, to his infinite diversion. the indians are vain of their local knowledge which is certainly very wonderful. our companions had taken out the entrails and young of the moose, which they buried in the snow. the indians then returned to the tents and one of my men accompanied them; he was the person charged with the management of the trade at the hunting tent; and he observed that the opportunity of making a bargain with the indians while they were drinking was too advantageous to be lost. it remained for us to prevent the wolves from mangling the moose; for which purpose we wrapped ourselves in blankets between its feet and placed the hatchets within our reach. the night was stormy and apprehension kept me long awake but, finding my companion in so deep a sleep that nothing could have roused him except the actual gripe of a wolf, i thought it advisable to imitate his example as much as was in my power rather than bear the burden of anxiety alone. at daylight we shook off the snow which was heaped upon us and endeavoured to kindle a fire, but the violence of the storm defeated all our attempts. at length two indians arrived with whose assistance we succeeded, and they took possession of it to show their sense of our obligations to them. we were ashamed of the scene before us; the entrails of the moose and its young, which had been buried at our feet, bore testimony to the nocturnal revel of the wolves during the time we had slept. this was a fresh subject of derision for the indians whose appetites however would not suffer them to waste long upon us a time so precious. they soon finished what the wolves had begun and with as little aid from the art of cookery, eating both the young moose and the contents of the paunch raw. i had scarcely secured myself by a lodge of branches from the snow and placed the moose in a position for my sketch when we were stormed by a troop of women and children with their sledges and dogs. we obtained another short respite from the indians but our blows could not drive, nor their caresses entice, the hungry dogs from the tempting feast before them. i had not finished my sketch before the impatient crowd tore the moose to pieces and loaded their sledges with meat. on our way to the tent a black wolf rushed out upon an indian who happened to pass near its den. it was shot and the indians carried away three black whelps to improve the breed of their dogs. i purchased one of them, intending to send it to england, but it perished for want of proper nourishment. the latitude of these tents was 53 degrees 12 minutes 46 seconds north, and longitude by chronometers 103 degrees 13 minutes 10 seconds west. on the 5th of april we set out for the hunting tent by our former track and arrived there in the evening. as the increasing warmth of the weather had threatened to interrupt communication by removing the ice orders had been sent from cumberland house to the people at the tent to quit it without delay, which we did on the 7th. some altitudes of the aurora borealis were obtained. we had a fine view at sunrise of the basquiau hill, skirting half the horizon with its white sides chequered by forests of pine. it is seen from pine island lake at the distance of fifty miles and cannot therefore be less than three-fourths of a mile in perpendicular height; probably the greatest elevation between the atlantic ocean and the rocky mountains. a small stream runs near the hunting tent, strongly impregnated with salt. there are several salt springs about it which are not frozen during the winter. the surface of the snow, thawing in the sun and freezing at night, had become a strong crust which sometimes gave way in a circle round our feet, immersing us in the soft snow beneath. the people were afflicted with snow blindness, a kind of ophthalmia occasioned by the reflection of the sun's rays in the spring. the miseries endured during the first journey of this nature are so great that nothing could induce the sufferer to undertake a second while under the influence of present pain. he feels his frame crushed by unaccountable pressure, he drags a galling and stubborn weight at his feet, and his track is marked with blood. the dazzling scene around him affords no rest to his eye, no object to divert his attention from his own agonising sensations. when he arises from sleep half his body seems dead till quickened into feeling by the irritation of his sores. but fortunately for him no evil makes an impression so evanescent as pain. it cannot be wholly banished nor recalled by the force of reality by any act of the mind, either to affect our determinations or to sympathise with another. the traveller soon forgets his sufferings and at every future journey their recurrence is attended with diminished acuteness. it was not before the 10th or 12th of april that the return of the swans, geese, and ducks gave certain indications of the advance of spring. the juice of the maple-tree began to flow and the women repaired to the woods for the purpose of collecting it. this tree which abounds to the southward is not i believe found to the northward of the saskatchewan. the indians obtain the sap by making incisions into the tree. they boil it down and evaporate the water, skimming off the impurities. they are so fond of sweets that after this simple process they set an extravagant price upon it. on the 15th fell the first shower of rain we had seen for six months, and on the 17th the thermometer rose to 77 degrees in the shade. the whole face of the country was deluged by the melted snow. all the nameless heaps of dirt accumulated in the winter now floated over the very thresholds, and the long-imprisoned scents dilated into vapours so penetrating that no retreat was any security from them. the flood descended into the cellar below our house and destroyed a quantity of powder and tea; a loss irreparable in our situation. the noise made by the frogs which this inundation produced is almost incredible. there is strong reason to believe that they outlive the severity of winter. they have often been found frozen and revived by warmth, nor is it possible that the multitude which incessantly filled our ears with its discordant notes could have been matured in two or three days. the fishermen at beaver lake and the other detached parties were ordered to return to the post. the expedients to which the poor people were reduced to cross a country so beset with waters presented many uncouth spectacles. the inexperienced were glad to compromise with the loss of property for the safety of their persons and, astride upon ill-balanced rafts with which they struggled to be uppermost, exhibited a ludicrous picture of distress. happy were they who could patch up an old canoe though obliged to bear it half the way on their shoulders through miry bogs and interwoven willows. but the veteran trader, wedged in a box of skin with his wife, children, dogs, and furs, wheeled triumphantly through the current and deposited his heterogeneous cargo safely on the shore. the woods reechoed with the return of their exiled tenants. a hundred tribes, as gaily dressed as any burnished natives of the south, greeted our eyes in our accustomed walks, and their voices, though unmusical, were the sweetest that ever saluted our ears. from the 19th to the 26th the snow once more blighted the resuscitating verdure, but a single day was sufficient to remove it. on the 28th the saskatchewan swept away the ice which had adhered to its banks, and on the morrow a boat came down from carlton house with provisions. we received such accounts of the state of vegetation at that place that dr. richardson determined to visit it in order to collect botanical specimens, as the period at which the ice was expected to admit of the continuation of our journey was still distant. accordingly he embarked on the 1st of may. in the course of the month the ice gradually wore away from the south side of the lake but the great mass of it still hung to the north side with some snow visible on its surface. by the 21st the elevated grounds were perfectly dry and teeming with the fragrant offspring of the season. when the snow melted the earth was covered with the fallen leaves of the last year, and already it was green with the strawberry plant and the bursting buds of the gooseberry, raspberry, and rose bushes, soon variegated by the rose and the blossoms of the choke-cherry. the gifts of nature are disregarded and undervalued till they are withdrawn and in the hideous regions of the arctic zone she would make a convert of him for whom the gardens of europe had no charms or the mild beauties of a southern climate had bloomed in vain. mr. williams found a delightful occupation in his agricultural pursuits. the horses were brought to the plough and fields of wheat, barley, and indian corn promised to reward his labours. his dairy furnished us with all the luxuries of an english farm. on the 25th the ice departed from pine island lake. we were however informed that beaver lake, which was likewise in our route, would not afford a passage before the 4th of june. according to directions left by mr. franklin applications were made to the chiefs of the hudson's bay and north-west companies' posts for two canoes with their crews and a supply of stores for the use of the expedition. they were not in a condition to comply with this request till the arrival of their respective returns from isle a la crosse and the saskatchewan departments. of the six men whom we brought from england the most serviceable, john hepburn, had accompanied mr. franklin, and only one other desired to prosecute the journey with us. mr. franklin had made arrangements with mr. williams for the employment of the remaining five men in bringing to cumberland house the ammunition, tobacco, etc., left at york fort, which stores were if possible to be sent after us in the summer. on the 30th dr. richardson returned from carlton house, and on the 31st the boats arrived belonging to the hudson's bay company's saskatchewan department. we obtained a canoe and two more volunteers. on the 1st of june the saskatchewan, swelled by the melting of the snow near the rocky mountains, rose twelve feet and the current of the little rivers bounding pine island ran back into the lake, which it filled with mud. on the 5th the north-west company's people arrived and mr. connolly furnished us with a canoe and five canadians. they were engaged to attend us till mr. franklin should think fit to discharge them and bound under the usual penalties in case of disobedience or other improper conduct. these poor people entertained such dread of a ship of war that they stipulated not to be embarked in lieutenant parry's vessels if we should find them on the coast, a condition with which they would gladly have dispensed had that desirable event taken place. as we required a canadian foreman and steersman for the other canoe we were compelled to wait for the appearance of the isle a la crosse canoes under mr. clark. on the 8th mr. williams embarked for york fort. he gave us a circular letter addressed to the chiefs of the hudson's bay company's posts directing them to afford us all possible assistance on our route, and he promised to exert every endeavour to forward the esquimaux interpreter, upon whom the success of our journey so much depended. he was accompanied by eight boats. with him we sent our collections of plants, minerals, charts, and drawings to be transmitted to england by the hudson's bay ships. after this period our detention, though short, cost us more vexation than the whole time we had passed at cumberland house because every hour of the short summer was invaluable to us. on the 11th mr. clark arrived and completed our crews. he brought letters from mr. franklin dated march 28th at fort chipewyan where he was engaged procuring hunters and interpreters. a heavy storm of wind and rain from the north-east again delayed us till the morning of the 13th. the account we had received at york factory of the numerous stores at cumberland house proved to be very erroneous. the most material stores we received did not amount in addition to our own to more than two barrels of powder, a keg of spirits, and two pieces of tobacco, with pemmican for sixteen days. the crew of dr. richardson's canoe consisted of three englishmen and three canadians and the other carried five canadians; both were deeply laden and the waves ran high on the lake. no person in our party being well acquainted with the rivers to the northward, mr. connolly gave us a pilot on condition that we should exchange him when we met with the athabasca brigade of canoes. at four a.m. we embarked. we soon found that birchen-bark canoes were not calculated to brave rough weather on a large lake, for we were compelled to land on the opposite border to free them from the water which had already saturated their cargoes. the wind became more moderate and we were enabled, after traversing a chain of smaller lakes, to enter the mouth of the sturgeon river at sunset, where we encamped. the lading of the canoes is always if possible carried on shore at night and the canoes taken out of the water. the following evening we reached beaver lake and landed to repair some damages sustained by the canoes. a round stone will displace the lading of a canoe without doing any injury but a slight blow against a sharp corner penetrates the bark. for the purpose of repairing it, a small quantity of gum or pitch, bark and pine roots are embarked, and the business is so expeditiously performed that the speed of the canoe amply compensates for every delay. the sturgeon river is justly called by the canadians la riviere maligne from its numerous and dangerous rapids. against the strength of a rapid it is impossible to effect any progress by paddling and the canoes are tracked or, if the bank will not admit of it, propelled with poles, in the management of which the canadians show great dexterity. their simultaneous motions were strongly contrasted with the awkward confusion of the inexperienced englishmen, defended by the torrent, who sustained the blame of every accident which occurred. at sunset we encamped on an island in beaver lake and, at four a.m. the next morning, passed the first portage in the ridge river. beaver lake is twelve miles in length and six in breadth. the flat limestone country rises into bold rocks on its banks and at the mouth of the ridge river the limestone discontinues. the lake is very deep and has already been noticed for the number and excellence of its fish. the ridge river is rapid and shallow. we had emerged from the muddy channels through an alluvial soil, and the primitive rocks interrupted our way with frequent portages through the whole route to isle a la crosse lake. at two p.m. we passed the mouth of the hay river, running from the westward, and the ridge above its confluence takes the name of the great river, which rises at the height of land called frog portage. the thermometer was this day 100 degrees in the sun and the heat was extremely oppressive from our constant exposure to it. we crossed three portages in the great river and encamped at the last; here we met the director of the north-west company's affairs in the north, mr. stuart, on his way to fort william in a light canoe. he had left the athabasca lake only thirteen days and brought letters from mr. franklin who desired that we would endeavour to collect stores of every kind at isle a la crosse and added a favourable account of the country to the northward of the slave lake. on the 16th at three a.m. we continued our course, the river increasing to the breadth of half a mile with many rapids between the rocky islands. the banks were luxuriantly clothed with pines, poplars, and birch trees, of the largest size, but the different shades of green were undistinguishable at a distance and the glow of autumnal colours was wanting to render the variety beautiful. having crossed two portages at the different extremities of the island lake we ran under sail through two extensive sheets of water called the heron and pelican lakes, the former of which is fifteen miles in length and the latter five; but its extent to the southward has not been explored. an intricate channel with four small portages conducted us to the woody lake. its borders were indeed walls of pines, hiding the face of steep and high rocks; and we wandered in search of a landing-place till ten p.m., when we were forced to take shelter from the impending storm on a small island where we wedged ourselves between the trees. but though we secured the canoes we incurred a personal evil of much greater magnitude in the torments inflicted by the mosquitoes, a plague which had grown upon us since our departure from cumberland house and which infested us during the whole summer; we found no relief from their attacks by exposing ourselves to the utmost violence of the wind and rain. our last resource was to plunge ourselves in the water, and from this uncomfortable situation we gladly escaped at daylight, and hoisted our sails. the woody lake is thirteen miles in length and a small grassy channel at its north-western extremity leads to the frog portage, the source of the waters descending by beaver lake to the saskatchewan. the distance to the missinippi or churchill river is only three hundred and eighty yards and, as its course crosses the height nearly at rightangles to the direction of the great river, it would be superfluous to compute the elevation at this place. the portage is in latitude 55 degrees 26 minutes 0 seconds north, and longitude 103 degrees 34 minutes 50 seconds west. its name according to sir alexander mackenzie is derived from the crees having left suspended a stretched frog's skin in derision of the northern indian mode of dressing the beaver. the part of the missinippi in which we embarked we should have mistaken for a lake had it not been for the rapidity of the current against which we made our way. at four p.m. we passed a long portage occasioned by a ledge of rocks three hundred yards in length over which the river falls seven or eight feet. after crossing another portage we encamped. on the 18th we had rain, wind, and thunder the whole day but this weather was much preferable to the heat we had borne hitherto. we passed three portages and at six p.m. encamped on the north bank. below the third portage is the mouth of the rapid river, flowing from a large lake to the southward, on which a post was formerly maintained by the north-west company. next morning we found ourselves involved in a confused mass of islands through the openings of which we could not discern the shore. the guide's knowledge of the river did not extend beyond the last portage, and our perplexity continued till we observed some foam floating on the water and took the direction from which it came. the noise of a heavy fall at the mountain portage reached our ears at the distance of four miles and we arrived there at eight a.m. the portage was a difficult ascent over a rocky island between which and the main shore were two cataracts and a third in sight above them, making another portage. we surprised a large brown bear which immediately retreated into the woods. to the northward of the second portage we again found the channels intricate but, the shores being sometimes visible, we ventured to proceed. the character of the country was new and more interesting than before. the mountainous and strong elevations receded from the bank and the woods crept through their openings to the valleys behind, the adventurous pine alone ascending their bases and braving storms unfelt below. at noon we landed at the otter portage where the river ran with great velocity for half a mile among large stones. having carried across the principal part of the cargo the people attempted to track the canoes along the edge of the rapid. with the first they succeeded but the other, in which were the foreman and steersman, was overset and swept away by the current. an account of this misfortune was speedily conveyed to the upper end of the portage and the men launched the remaining canoe into the rapid, though wholly unacquainted with the dangers of it. the descent was quickly accomplished and they perceived the bottom of the lost canoe above water in a little bay whither it had been whirled by the eddy. one man had reached the bank but no traces could be found of the foreman louis saint jean. we saved the canoe out of which two guns and a case of preserved meats had been thrown into the rapid.* so early a disaster deeply affected the spirits of the canadians, and their natural vivacity gave way to melancholy forebodings while they erected a wooden cross in the rocks near the spot where their companion perished. (*footnote. mr. hood himself was the first to leap into the canoe and incite the men to follow him and shoot the rapid to save the lives of their companions. dr. richardson's journal.) the loss of this man's services and the necessity of procuring a guide determined us to wait for the arrival of the north-west company's people from fort chipewyan and we encamped accordingly. the canoe was much shattered but, as the gunwales were not broken, we easily repaired it. in the evening a north-west canoe arrived with two of the partners. they gave us an account of mr. franklin's proceedings and referred us to the brigade following them for a guide. during the 20th it rained heavily and we passed the day in anxious suspense confined to our tents. a black bear came to the bank on the opposite side of the river and, on seeing us, glided behind the trees. late on the 21st mr. robertson of the hudson's bay company arrived and furnished us with a guide, but desired that he might be exchanged when we met the northern canoes. we took advantage of the remainder of the day to cross the next portage which was three-fourths of a mile in length. on the 22nd we crossed three small portages and encamped at the fourth. at one of them we passed some of the hudson's bay company's canoes and our application to them was unsuccessful. we began to suspect that isle a la crosse was the nearest place at which we might hope for assistance. however on the morning of the 23rd, as we were about to embark, we encountered the last brigades of canoes belonging to both the companies and obtained a guide and foreman from them. thus completely equipped we entered the black bear island lake, the navigation of which requires a very experienced pilot. its length is twenty-two miles and its breadth varies from three to five, yet it is so choked with islands that no channel is to be found through it exceeding a mile in breadth. at sunset we landed and encamped on an island, and at six a.m. on the 24th left the lake and crossed three portages into another which has probably several communications with the last, as that by which we passed is too narrow to convey the whole body of the missinippi. at one of these portages called the pin portage is a rapid about ten yards in length with a descent of ten or twelve feet and beset with rocks. light canoes sometimes venture down this fatal gulf to avoid the portage, unappalled by the warning crosses which overhang the brink, the mournful records of former failures. the hudson's bay company's people whom we passed on the 23rd going to the rock house with their furs were badly provided with food, of which we saw distressing proofs at every portage behind them. they had stripped the birch trees of their rind to procure the soft pulpy vessels in contact with the wood which are sweet but very insufficient to satisfy a craving appetite. the lake to the westward of the pin portage is called sandfly lake; it is seven miles long and a wide channel connects it with the serpent lake, the extent of which to the southward we could not discern. there is nothing remarkable in this chain of lakes except their shapes, being rocky basins filled by the waters of the missinippi, insulating the massy eminences and meandering with almost imperceptible current between them. from the serpent to the sandy lake it is again confined in a narrow space by the approach of its winding banks, and on the 26th we were some hours employed in traversing a series of shallow rapids where it was necessary to lighten the canoes. having missed the path through the woods we walked two miles in the water upon sharp stones, from which some of us were incessantly slipping into deep holes and floundering in vain for footing at the bottom, a scene highly diverting notwithstanding our fatigue. we were detained in sandy lake till one p.m. by a strong gale when, the wind becoming moderate, we crossed five miles to the mouth of the river and at four p.m. left the main branch of it and entered a little rivulet called the grassy river, running through an extensive reedy swamp. it is the nest of innumerable ducks which rear their young among the long rushes in security from beasts of prey. at sunset we encamped on the banks of the main branch. at three a.m. june 28th we embarked in a thick fog occasioned by a fall of the temperature of the air ten degrees below that of the water. having crossed knee lake which is nine miles in length and a portage at its western extremity we entered primeau lake with a strong and favourable wind, by the aid of which we ran nineteen miles through it and encamped at the river's mouth. it is shaped like the barb of an arrow with the point towards the north and its greatest breadth is about four miles. during the night a torrent of rain washed us from our beds accompanied with the loudest thunder i ever heard. this weather continued during the 29th and often compelled us to land and turn the canoes up to prevent them from filling. we passed one portage and the confluence of a river said to afford by other rivers beyond a height of land a shorter but more difficult route to the athabasca lake than that which is generally pursued. on the 28th we crossed the last portage and at ten a.m. entered the isle a la crosse lake. its long succession of woody points, both banks stretching towards the south till their forms were lost in the haze of the horizon, was a grateful prospect to us after our bewildered and interrupted voyage in the missinippi. the gale wafted us with unusual speed and as the lake increased in breadth the waves swelled to a dangerous height. a canoe running before the wind is very liable to burst asunder when on the top of a wave so that part of the bottom is out of the water, for there is nothing to support the weight of its heavy cargo but the bark and the slight gunwales attached to it. on making known our exigencies to the gentlemen in charge of the hudson's bay and north-west companies' forts they made up an assortment of stores amounting to five bales, for four of which we were indebted to mr. mcleod of the north-west company who shared with us the ammunition absolutely required for the support of his post, receiving in exchange an order for the same quantity upon the cargo which we expected to follow us from york factory. we had heard from mr. stuart that fort chipewyan was too much impoverished to supply the wants of the expedition and we found isle a la crosse in the same condition; which indeed we might have foreseen from the exhausted state of cumberland house but could not have provided against. we never had heard before our departure from york that the posts in the interior only received annually the stores necessary for the consumption of a single year. it was fortunate for us that mr. franklin had desired ten bags of pemmican to be sent from the saskatchewan across the plains to isle a la crosse for our use. this resource was untouched but we could not embark more than five pieces in our own canoes. however mr. mcleod agreed to send a canoe after us to the methye portage with the pemmican, and we calculated that the diminution of our provision would there enable us to receive it. the beaver river enters this lake on the south-east side, and another river which has not been named on the south-west. both these rivers are branches of the missinippi as it is the only outlet from the lake. the banks appeared to be rocky and the beach in many places sandy but its waters are yellow and muddy. it produces a variety of fish among which its white-fish are esteemed the best in the country. the only birds visible at this season are common to every part of the missinippi; gulls, ducks, pigeons, goatsuckers, and the raven; and geese and swans pay a momentary visit in passing to the north and returning. there was little in the forts differing from the establishments that we had before seen. the ground on which they are erected is sandy and favourable to cultivation. curiosity however was satisfied by the first experiment and utility alone has been unable to extend it. isle a la crosse is frequented by the crees and the chipewyans. it is not the dread of the indians but of one another that has brought the rival companies so close together at every trading post, each party seeking to prevent the other from engaging the affections of the natives and monopolising the trade. whenever a settlement is made by the one the other immediately follows, without considering the eligibility of the place, for it may injure its opponent though it cannot benefit itself, and that advantage, which is the first object of all other commercial bodies, becomes but the second with the fur traders. on the evening of the 30th we embarked and entered a wide channel to the northward of the forts and extending towards the north-west. it gradually decreased in breadth till it became a river which is the third fork of the missinippi and, its current being almost insensible, we entered the clear lake at ten a.m. on the 1st of july. of this lake, which is very large, no part is known except the south border, but its extent would lead us to conclude that its evaporation must be supplied by another river to the northward, especially as the small channel that communicates with buffalo lake is motionless. the existence of such a river is asserted by the indians, and a shorter passage might be found by it across the height of land to clear water river than the portage from the methye lake. in buffalo lake the wind was too strong for us to proceed and we therefore encamped upon a gravel beach thrown up by the waves. we embarked at three a.m. july 2nd and at four p.m. entered the mouth of the methye river. the lake is thirty-four miles in length and fourteen in breadth. it is probably very deep for we saw no islands on this wide expanse except at the borders. on the south-west side were two forts belonging to the companies and near them a solitary hill seven or eight hundred feet high. at eight p.m. we encamped in the methye river at the confluence of the river pembina. a route has been explored by it to the red willow river across the height of land, but the difficulties of it were so great that the ordinary route is preferred. on the 3rd we passed through the methye river and encamped on the borders of the methye lake. the soil from isle a la crosse to this place is sandy with some portion of clay and the trees numerous; but the methye river is stony and so shallow that, to lighten the canoes, we made two portages of five and two miles. the paths were overflowed with cold spring water and barricaded by fallen trees; we should have been contented to immerse ourselves wholly had the puddle been sufficiently deep for the mosquitoes devoured every part that was exposed to them. on the 4th we crossed the methye lake and landed at the portage on the north-west side in one of the sources of the missinippi. the lake is seventeen miles in length with a large island in the middle. we proceeded to the north side of the portage with two men carrying a tent and some instruments, leaving the canoes and cargoes to be transported by daily journeys of two or three miles. the distance is fourteen statute miles and there are two small lakes about five miles from the north side. several species of fish were found in them though they have no known communication with any other body of water, being situated on the elevation of the height. the road was a gentle ascent, miry from the late rainy weather and shaded by pines, poplars, birches, and cypresses, which terminated our view. on the north side we discovered through an opening in the trees that we were on a hill eight or nine hundred feet high and at the edge of a steep descent. we were prepared to expect an extensive prospect, but the magnificent scene before us was so superior to what the nature of the country had promised that it banished even our sense of suffering from the mosquitoes which hovered in clouds about our heads. two parallel chains of hills extended towards the setting sun, their various projecting outlines exhibiting the several gradations of distance and the opposite bases closing at the horizon. on the nearest eminence the objects were clearly defined by their dark shadows; the yellow rays blended their softening hues with brilliant green on the next, and beyond it all distinction melted into gray and purple. in the long valley between, the smooth and colourless clear water river wound its spiral course, broken and shattered by encroaching woods. an exuberance of rich herbage covered the soil and lofty trees climbed the precipice at our feet, hiding its brink with their summits. impatient as we were and blinded with pain we paid a tribute of admiration, which this beautiful landscape is capable of exciting unaided by the borrowed charms of a calm atmosphere, glowing with the vivid tints of evening. we descended to the banks of the clear water river and, having encamped, the two men returned to assist their companions. we had sometimes before procured a little rest by closing the tent and burning wood or flashing gunpowder within, the smoke driving the mosquitoes into the crannies of the ground. but this remedy was now ineffectual though we employed it so perseveringly as to hazard suffocation: they swarmed under our blankets, goring us with their envenomed trunks and steeping our clothes in blood. we rose at daylight in a fever and our misery was unmitigated during our whole stay. the mosquitoes of america resemble in shape those of africa and europe but differ essentially in size and other particulars. there are two distinct species, the largest of which is brown and the smallest black. where they are bred cannot easily be determined for they are numerous in every soil. they make their first appearance in may and the cold destroys them in september; in july they are most voracious and, fortunately for the traders, the journeys from the trading posts to the factories are generally concluded at that period. the food of the mosquito is blood which it can extract by penetrating the hide of a buffalo; and if it is not disturbed it gorges itself so as to swell its body into a transparent globe. the wound does not swell like that of the african mosquito, but it is infinitely more painful; and when multiplied a hundredfold and continued for so many successive days it becomes an evil of such magnitude that cold, famine, and every other concomitant of an inhospitable climate must yield the pre-eminence to it. it chases the buffalo to the plains, irritating him to madness; and the reindeer to the seashore, from which they do not return till the scourge has ceased. on the 6th the thermometer was 106 degrees in the sun and on the 7th 110 degrees. the mosquitoes sought the shade in the heat of the day. it was some satisfaction to us to see the havoc made among them by a large and beautiful species of dragonfly called the mosquito hawk, which wheeled through their retreats swallowing their prey without a momentary diminution of speed. but the temporary relief that we had hoped for was only an exchange of tormentors: our new assailant, the horsefly, or bulldog, ranged in the hottest glare of the sun and carried off a portion of flesh at each attack. another noxious insect, the smallest but not the least formidable, was the sandfly known in canada by the name of the brulot. to such annoyance all travellers must submit, and it would be unworthy to complain of that grievance in the pursuit of knowledge which is endured for the sake of profit. this detail of it has only been as an excuse for the scantiness of our observations on the most interesting part of the country through which we passed. the north side of the methye portage is in latitude 56 degrees 41 minutes 40 seconds north and longitude 109 degrees 52 minutes 0 seconds west. it is of course one hundred and twenty-four miles from isle a la crosse and considered as a branch of the missinippi, five hundred and ninety-two miles from the frog portage. the clear water river passing through the valley, described above, evidently rises not far to the eastward. the height, computed by the same mode as that of the echiamamis, by allowing a foot for each mile of distance and six feet on an average for each fall and rapid, is two thousand four hundred and sixty-seven feet above the level of the sea, admitting it to be nine hundred feet above the clear water river. the country in a line between it and the mouth of mackenzie's river is a continual descent, although to the eastward of that line there may be several heights between it and the arctic sea. to the eastward the lands descend to hudson's bay, and to the westward also, till the athabasca river cuts through it, from whence it ascends to the rocky mountains. daring was the spirit of enterprise that first led commerce with her cumbrous train from the waters of hudson's bay to those of the arctic sea, across an obstacle to navigation so stupendous as this; and persevering has been the industry which drew riches from a source so remote. his journey to chipewyan. on the 8th two men arrived and informed us that they had brought us our ten bags of pemmican from isle a la crosse, but that they were found to be rotten. thus were we unexpectedly deprived of the most essential of our stores for we knew fort chipewyan to be destitute of provisions and that mr. franklin depended upon us for a supply, whereas enough did not remain for our own use. on the 9th the canoes and cargoes reached the north side of the portage. our people had selected two bags of pemmican less mouldy than the rest which they left on the beach. its decay was caused by some defect in the mode of mixing it. on the 10th we embarked in the clear water river and proceeded down the current. the hills, the banks, and bed of the river were composed of fine yellow sand with some limestone rocks. the surface soil was alluvial. at eight a.m. we passed a portage on which the limestone rocks were singularly scattered through the woods, bearing the appearance of houses and turrets overgrown with moss. the earth emitted a hollow sound and the river was divided by rocks into narrow crooked channels, every object indicating that some convulsion had disturbed the general order of nature at this place. we had passed a portage above it and after two long portages below it we encamped. near the last was a small stream so strongly impregnated with sulphur as to taint the air to a great distance around it. we saw two brown bears on the hills in the course of the day. at daylight on the 11th we embarked. the hills continued on both sides of the mouth of the river, varying from eight hundred to one thousand feet in height. they declined to the banks in long green slopes diversified by woody mounds and copses. the pines were not here in thick impenetrable masses but perched aloft in single groups on the heights or shrouded by the livelier hues of the poplar and willow. we passed the mouth of the red willow river on the south bank flowing through a deep ravine. it is the continuation of the route by the pembina before mentioned. at noon we entered the majestic athabasca or elk river. its junction with the clear water river is called the forks. its banks were inaccessible cliffs, apparently of clay and stones about two hundred feet high, and its windings in the south were encircled by high mountains. its breadth exceeded half a mile and was swelled to a mile in many places by long muddy islands in the middle covered with trees. no more portages interrupted our course but a swift current hurried us towards the quarter in which our anticipated discoveries were to commence. the passing cliffs returned a loud confusion of echoes to the sprightly canoe song and the dashing paddles and the eagles, watching with half-closed eyes on the pine-tops, started from their airy rest and prepared their drowsy pinions for the flight. about twenty miles from the forks are some salt pits and plains, said to be very extensive. the height of the banks was reduced to twenty or thirty feet and the hills ranged themselves at an increased distance from the banks in the same variety as those of the clear water river. at sunset we encamped on a small sandy island but the next morning made a speedy retreat to the canoes, the water having nearly overflown our encampment. we passed two deserted settlements of the fur traders on opposite banks at a place called pierre au calumet. beyond it the hills disappeared and the banks were no longer visible above the trees. the river carries away yearly large portions of soil which increases its breadth and diminishes its depth, rendering the water so muddy as to be scarcely drinkable. whole forests of timber are drifted down the stream and choke up the channels between the islands at its mouth. we observed the traces of herds of buffaloes where they had crossed the river, the trees being trodden down and strewed as if by a whirlwind. at four p.m. we left the main branch of the athabasca, entering a small river called the embarras. it is narrow and muddy with pines of an enormous size on its banks. some of them are two hundred feet high and three or four feet in diameter. at nine p.m. we landed and encamped but, finding ourselves in a nest of mosquitoes, we continued our journey before daybreak; and at eight a.m. emerged into the athabasca lake. a strong wind agitated this sea of fresh water which however we crossed without any accident, and landed on the north side of it at fort chipewyan where we had the satisfaction of finding our companions in good health, and of experiencing that sympathy in our anxiety on the state of affairs, which was only to be expected from those who were to share our future fortunes. chapter 7. departure from chipewyan. difficulties of the various navigations of the rivers and lakes, and of the portages. slave lake and fort providence. scarcity of provisions, and discontent of the canadian voyagers. difficulties with regard to the indian guides. refusal to proceed. visit of observation to the upper part of copper-mine river. return to the winter quarters of fort enterprise. departure from chipewyan. july 18, 1820. early this morning the stores were distributed to the three canoes. our stock of provision unfortunately did not amount to more than sufficient for one day's consumption exclusive of two barrels of flour, three cases of preserved meats, some chocolate, arrowroot, and portable soup, which we had brought from england and intended to reserve for our journey to the coast the next season. seventy pounds of moose meat and a little barley were all that mr. smith was enabled to give us. it was gratifying however to perceive that this scarcity of food did not depress the spirits of our canadian companions who cheerfully loaded their canoes and embarked in high glee after they had received the customary dram. at noon we bade farewell to our kind friend mr. smith. the crews commenced a lively paddling song on quitting the shore which was continued until we had lost sight of the houses. we soon reached the western boundary of the lakem and at two entered the stony river, one of the discharges of the athabasca lake into the slave lake and, having a favouring current, passed swiftly along. this narrow stream is confined between low swampy banks which support willows, dwarf birch, and alder. at five we passed its conflux with the peace river. the slave river, formed by the union of these streams, is about three-quarters of a mile wide. we descended this magnificent river with much rapidity and, after passing through several narrow channels, formed by an assemblage of islands, crossed a spot where the waters had a violent whirling motion which, when the river is low, is said to subside into a dangerous rapid; on the present occasion no other inconvenience was felt than the inability of steering the canoes which were whirled about in every direction by the eddies until the current carried them beyond their influence. we encamped at seven on the swampy bank of the river but had scarcely pitched the tents before we were visited by a terrible thunderstorm; the rain fell in torrents and the violence of the wind caused the river to overflow its banks so that we were completely flooded. swarms of mosquitoes succeeded the storm and their tormenting stings, superadded to other inconveniences, induced us to embark and, after taking a hasty supper, to pursue our voyage down the stream during the night. at six on the following morning we passed the reindeer islands and at ten reached the entrance of the dog river where we halted to set the fishing nets. these were examined in the evening but, to our mortification, we obtained only four small trout and were compelled to issue part of our preserved meats for supper. the latitude of the mouth of dog river was observed 59 degrees 52 minutes 16 seconds north. difficulties of the various navigations of the rivers and lakes, and of the portages. the nets were taken up at daylight but they furnished only a solitary pike. we lost no time in embarking and crossed the crooked channel of the dog rapid when two of the canoes came in such violent contact with each other that the sternmost had its bow broken off. we were fortunately near the shore or the disabled canoe would have sunk. the injury being repaired in two hours we again embarked and, having descended another rapid, arrived at the cassette portage of four hundred and sixty paces, over which the cargoes and canoes were carried in about twenty-six minutes. we next passed through a narrow channel full of rapids, crossed the portage d'embarras of seventy yards, and the portage of the little rock of three hundred yards, at which another accident happened to one of the canoes by the bowman slipping and letting it fall upon a rock and breaking it in two. two hours were occupied in sewing the detached pieces together and covering the seam with pitch but, this being done, it was as effective as before. after leaving this place we soon came to the next portage of two hundred and seventy-three paces; and shortly afterwards to the mountain portage of one hundred and twenty, which is appropriately named as the path leads over the summit of a high hill. this elevated situation commands a very grand and picturesque view for some miles along the river which at this part is about a mile wide. we next crossed a portage of one hundred and twenty yards; and then the pelican portage of eight hundred paces. mr. back took an accurate sketch of the interesting scenery which the river presents at this place. after descending six miles farther we came to the last portage on the route to slave lake which we crossed and encamped in its lower end. it is called the portage of the drowned and it received that name from a melancholy accident which took place many years ago. two canoes arrived at the upper end of the portage in one of which there was an experienced guide. this man, judging from the height of the river, deemed it practicable to shoot the rapid and determined upon trying it. he accordingly placed himself in the bow of his canoe, having previously agreed that, if the passage was found easy, he should, on reaching the bottom of the rapid, fire a musket as a signal for the other canoe to follow. the rapid proved dangerous and called forth all the skill of the guide and the utmost exertion of his crew and they narrowly escaped destruction. just as they were landing an unfortunate fellow, seizing the loaded fowling-piece, fired at a duck which rose at the instant. the guide, anticipating the consequences, ran with the utmost haste to the other end of the portage but he was too late: the other canoe had pushed off and he arrived only to witness the fate of his comrades. they got alarmed in the middle of the rapid, the canoe was upset, and every man perished. the various rapids we passed this day are produced by an assemblage of islands and rocky ledges which obstruct the river and divide it into many narrow channels. two of these channels are rendered still more difficult by accumulations of drift timber, a circumstance which has given a name to one of the portages. the rocks which compose the bed of the river and the numerous islands belong to the granite formation. the distance made today was thirteen miles. july 21. we embarked at four a.m. and pursued our course down the river. the rocks ceased at the last portage and below it the banks are composed of alluvial soil which is held together by the roots of trees and shrubs that crown their summits. the river is about a mile wide and the current is greatly diminished. at eight we landed at the mouth of the salt river and pitched our tents, intending to remain there that and the next day for the purpose of fishing. after breakfast, which made another inroad on our preserved meats, we proceeded up the river in a light canoe to visit the salt springs, leaving a party behind to attend the nets. this river is about one hundred yards wide at its mouth. its waters did not become brackish until we had ascended it seven or eight miles but, when we had passed several rivulets of fresh water which flowed in, the main stream became very salt, at the same time contracting its width to fifteen or twenty yards. at a distance of twenty-two miles, including the windings of the river, the plains commence. having pitched the tent at this spot we set out to visit the principal springs and had walked about three miles when the mosquitoes compelled us to give up our project. we did not see the termination of the plains toward the east, but on the north and west they are bounded by an even ridge about six or seven hundred feet in height. several salt springs issue from the foot of this ridge and spread their waters over the plain which consists of tenacious clay. during the summer much evaporation takes place and large heaps of salt are left behind crystallised in the form of cubes. some beds of grayish compact gypsum were exposed on the sides of the hills. the next morning after filling some casks with salt for our use during winter we embarked to return, and had descended the river a few miles when, turning round a point, we perceived a buffalo plunge into the river before us. eager to secure so valuable a prize we instantly opened a fire upon him from four muskets and in a few minutes he fell, but not before he had received fourteen balls. the carcass was towed to the bank and the canoe speedily laden with meat. after this piece of good fortune we descended the stream merrily, our voyagers chanting their liveliest songs. on arrival at the mouth of the river we found that our nets had not produced more than enough to supply a scanty meal to the men whom we had left behind, but this was now of little importance as the acquisition of meat we had made would enable us to proceed without more delay to slave lake. the poisson inconnu mentioned by mackenzie is found here. it is a species of the genus salmo, and is said by the indians to ascend from the arctic sea but, being unable to pass the cascade of the slave river, is not found higher than this place. in the evening a violent thunderstorm came on with heavy rain, thermometer 70 degrees. at a very early hour on the following morning we embarked and continued to paddle against a very strong wind and high waves under the shelter of the bank of the rivers until two p.m. when, having arrived at a more exposed part of the stream, the canoes took in so much water that we were obliged to disembark on a small island. the river here is from one mile and a quarter to one mile and three-quarters wide. its banks are of moderate height, sandy, and well wooded. slave lake and fort providence. july 24. we made more progress notwithstanding the continuance of the wind. the course of the river is very winding, making in one place a circuit of seven or eight miles round a peninsula which is joined to the west bank by a narrow isthmus. near the foot of this elbow a long island occupies the centre of the river which it divides into two channels. the longitude was obtained near to it 113 degrees 25 minutes 36 seconds and variation 27 degrees 25 minutes 14 seconds north, and the latitude 60 degrees 54 minutes 52 seconds north, about four miles farther down. we passed the mouth of a broad channel leading to the north-east termed la grande riviere de jean, one of the two large branches by which the river pours its waters into the great slave lake; the flooded delta at the mouth of the river is intersected by several smaller channels through one of which, called the channel of the scaffold, we pursued our voyage on the following morning and by eight a.m. reached the establishment of the north-west company on moose-deer island. we found letters from mr. wentzel, dated fort providence, a station on the north side of the lake, which communicated to us that there was an indian guide waiting for us at that post; but that the chief and the hunters who were to accompany the party had gone to a short distance to hunt, having become impatient at our delay. soon after landing i visited the hudson's bay post on the same island and engaged pierre st. germain, an interpreter for the copper indians. we regretted to find the posts of both the companies extremely bare of provision but, as the gentlemen in charge had despatched men on the preceding evening to a band of indians in search of meat and they promised to furnish us with whatever should be brought, it was deemed advisable to wait for their return as the smallest supply was now of importance to us. advantage was taken of the delay to repair effectually the canoe which had been broken in the dog rapid. on the next evening the men arrived with the meat and enabled mr. mcleod of the north-west company to furnish us with four hundred pounds of dried provisions. mr. mcvicar of the hudson's bay company also supplied one hundred and fifty pounds. this quantity we considered would be sufficient until we could join the hunters. we also obtained three fishing-nets, a gun, and a pair of pistols, which were all the stores these posts could furnish, although the gentlemen in charge were much disposed to assist us. moose-deer island is about a mile in diameter and rises towards the centre about three hundred feet above the lake. its soil is in general sandy, in some parts swampy. the varieties of the northern berries grow abundantly on it. the north-west company's fort is in latitude 61 degrees 11 minutes 8 seconds north, longitude 113 degrees 51 minutes 37 seconds west, being two hundred and sixty statute miles distant from fort chipewyan by the river course. the variation of the compass is 25 degrees 40 minutes 47 seconds east. the houses of the two companies are small and have a bleak northern aspect. there are vast accumulations of driftwood on the shores of the lake, brought down by the river, which afford plenty of fuel. the inhabitants live principally on the fish, which the lake at certain seasons furnishes in great abundance; of these the white-fish, trout, and poisson inconnu are considered the best. they also procure moose, buffalo, and reindeer meat occasionally from their hunters; but these animals are generally found at the distance of several days' walk from the forts. the indians who trade here are chipewyans. beavers, martens, foxes, and muskrats are caught in numbers in the vicinity of this great body of water. the mosquitoes here were still a serious annoyance to us but less numerous than before. they were in some degree replaced by a small sandfly, whose bite is succeeded by a copious flow of blood and considerable swelling but is attended with incomparably less irritation than the puncture of the mosquito. on the 27th of july we embarked at four a.m. and proceeded along the south shore of the lake through a narrow channel, formed by some islands, beyond the confluence of the principal branch of the slave river; and as far as stony island, where we breakfasted. this island is merely a rock of gneiss that rises forty or fifty feet above the lake and is precipitous on the north side. as the day was fine and the lake smooth we ventured upon paddling across to the reindeer islands, which were distant about thirteen miles in a northern direction, instead of pursuing the usual track by keeping farther along the south shore which inclines to the eastward from this point. these islands are numerous and consist of granite, rising from one hundred to two hundred feet above the water. they are for the most part naked; but towards the centres of the larger ones there is a little soil and a few groves of pines. at seven in the evening we landed upon one of them and encamped. on the following morning we ran before a strong breeze and a heavy swell for some hours, but at length were obliged to seek shelter on a large island adjoining to isle a la cache of mackenzie, where the following observations were obtained: latitude 61 degrees 50 minutes 18 seconds north, longitude 113 degrees 21 minutes 40 seconds west, and variation 31 degrees 2 minutes 06 seconds east. the wind and swell having subsided in the afternoon we reembarked and steered towards the western point of the big island of mackenzie and, when four miles distant from it, had forty-two fathoms soundings. passing between this island and a promontory of the main shore, termed big cape, we entered into a deep bay which receives the waters from several rivers that come from the northward; and we immediately perceived a decrease in the temperature of the waters from 59 to 48 degrees. we coasted along the eastern side of the bay, its western shore being always visible, but the canoes were exposed to the hazard of being broken by the numerous sunken rocks which were scattered in our track. we encamped for the night on a rocky island and by eight a.m. on the following morning arrived at fort providence which is situated twenty-one miles from the entrance of the bay. the post is exclusively occupied by the north-west company, the hudson's bay company having no settlement to the northward of great slave lake. we found mr. wentzel and our interpreter jean baptiste adam here with one of the indian guides: but the chief of the tribe and his hunters were encamped with their families some miles from the fort in a good situation for fishing. our arrival was announced to him by a fire on the top of a hill, and before night a messenger came to communicate his intention of seeing us next morning. the customary present of tobacco and some other articles was immediately sent to him. mr. wentzel prepared me for the first conference with the indians by mentioning all the information they had already given to him. the duties allotted to this gentleman were the management of the indians, the superintendence of the canadian voyagers, the obtaining and the general distribution of the provision, and the issue of the other stores. these services he was well qualified to perform, having been accustomed to execute similar duties during a residence of upwards of twenty years in this country. we also deemed mr. wentzel to be a great acquisition to our party as a check on the interpreters, he being one of the few traders who speak the chipewyan language. as we were informed that external appearances made lasting impressions on the indians we prepared for the interview by decorating ourselves in uniform and suspending a medal round each of our necks. our tents had been previously pitched and over one of them a silken union flag was hoisted. soon after noon on july 30th several indian canoes were seen advancing in a regular line and, on their approach, the chief was discovered in the headmost which was paddled by two men. on landing at the fort the chief assumed a very grave aspect and walked up to mr. wentzel with a measured and dignified step, looking neither to the right nor to the left at the persons who had assembled on the beach to witness his debarkation, but preserving the same immovability of countenance until he reached the hall and was introduced to the officers. when he had smoked his pipe, drank a small portion of spirits and water himself, and issued a glass to each of his companions, who had seated themselves on the floor, he commenced his harangue by mentioning the circumstances that led to his agreeing to accompany the expedition, an engagement which he was quite prepared to fulfil. he was rejoiced he said to see such great chiefs on his lands; his tribe were poor but they loved white men who had been their benefactors; and he hoped that our visit would be productive of much good to them. the report which preceded our arrival he said had caused much grief to him. it was at first rumoured that a great medicine chief accompanied us who was able to restore the dead to life; at this he rejoiced; the prospect of again seeing his departed relatives had enlivened his spirits, but his first communication with mr. wentzel had removed these vain hopes and he felt as if his friends had a second time been torn from him. he now wished to be informed exactly of the nature of our expedition. in reply to this speech, which i understood had been prepared for many days, i endeavoured to explain the objects of our mission in a manner best calculated to ensure his exertions in our service. with this view i told him that we were sent out by the greatest chief in the world who was the sovereign also of the trading companies in the country; that he was the friend of peace and had the interest of every nation at heart. having learned that his children in the north were much in want of articles of merchandise, in consequence of the extreme length and difficulty of the present route, he had sent us to search for a passage by the sea which, if found, would enable large vessels to transport great quantities of goods more easily to their lands. that we had not come for the purpose of traffic but solely to make discoveries for their benefit as well as that of every other people. that we had been directed to inquire into the nature of all the productions of the countries we might pass through and particularly respecting their inhabitants. that we desired the assistance of the indians in guiding us and providing us with food; finally that we were most positively enjoined by the great chief to recommend that hostilities should cease throughout this country, and especially between the indians and the esquimaux, whom he considered his children in common with other natives and, by way of enforcing the latter point more strongly, i assured him that a forfeiture of all the advantages which might be anticipated from the expedition would be a certain consequence if any quarrel arose between his party and the esquimaux. i also communicated to him that, owing to the distance we had travelled, we had now few more stores than was necessary for the use of our own party, a part of these, however, should be forthwith presented to him; on his return he and his party should be remunerated with cloth, ammunition, and tobacco, and some useful iron materials, besides having their debts to the north-west company discharged. the chief whose name is akaitcho or big-foot replied by a renewal of his assurances that he and his party would attend us to the end of our journey, and that they would do their utmost to provide us with the means of subsistence. he admitted that his tribe had made war upon the esquimaux but said they were now desirous of peace and unanimous in their opinion as to the necessity of all who accompanied us abstaining from every act of enmity against that nation. he added however that the esquimaux were very treacherous and therefore recommended that we should advance towards them with caution. the communications which the chief and the guides then gave respecting the route to the copper-mine river and its course to the sea coincided in every material point with the statements which were made by boileau and black meat at chipewyan, but they differed in their descriptions of the coast. the information however, collected from both sources, was very vague and unsatisfactory. none of his tribe had been more than three days' march along the sea-coast to the eastward of the river's mouth. as the water was unusually high this season the indian guides recommended our going by a shorter route to the copper-mine river than that they had first proposed to mr. wentzel, and they assigned as a reason for the change that the reindeer would be sooner found upon this track. they then drew a chart of the proposed route on the floor with charcoal, exhibiting a chain of twenty-five small lakes extending towards the north, about one-half of them connected by a river which flows into slave lake near fort providence. one of the guides named keskarrah drew the copper-mine river running through the upper lake in a westerly direction towards the great bear lake and then northerly to the sea. the other guide drew the river in a straight line to the sea from the above-mentioned place but, after some dispute, admitted the correctness of the first delineation. the latter was elder brother to akaitcho and he said that he had accompanied mr. hearne on his journey and, though very young at the time, still remembered many of the circumstances and particularly the massacre committed by the indians on the esquimaux. they pointed out another lake to the southward of the river, about three days' journey distant from it, on which the chief proposed the next winter's establishment should be formed as the reindeer would pass there in the autumn and spring. its waters contained fish and there was a sufficiency of wood for building as well as for the winter's consumption. these were important considerations and determined me in pursuing the route they now proposed. they could not inform us what time we should take in reaching the lake until they saw our manner of travelling in the large canoes, but they supposed we might be about twenty days, in which case i entertained the hope that, if we could then procure provision, we should have time to descend the copper-mine river for a considerable distance, if not to the sea itself, and return to the lake before the winter set in. it may here be proper to mention that it had been my original plan to descend the mackenzie's river and to cross the great bear lake, from the eastern side of which, boileau informed me, there is a communication with the copper-mine river by four small lakes and portages; but under our present circumstances this course could not be followed because it would remove us too far from the establishments at the great slave lake to receive the supplies of ammunition and some other stores in the winter which were absolutely necessary for the prosecution of our journey, or to get the esquimaux interpreter whom we expected. if i had not deemed these circumstances paramount i should have preferred the route by bear lake. akaitcho and the guides having communicated all the information they possessed on the different points to which our questions had been directed i placed my medal round the neck of the chief, and the officers presented theirs to an elder brother of his and the two guides, communicating to them that these marks of distinction were given as tokens of our friendship and as pledges of the sincerity of our professions. being conferred in the presence of all the hunters their acquisition was highly gratifying to them, but they studiously avoided any great expression of joy because such an exposure would have been unbecoming the dignity which the senior indians assume during a conference. they assured us however of their being duly sensible of these tokens of our regard and that they should be preserved during their lives with the utmost care. the chief evinced much penetration and intelligence during the whole of this conversation, which gave us a favourable opinion of his intellectual powers. he made many inquiries respecting the discovery ships under the command of captain parry which had been mentioned to him, and asked why a passage had not been discovered long ago, if one existed. it may be stated that we gave a faithful explanation to all his inquiries, which policy would have prompted us to do if a love of truth had not; for whenever these northern nations detect a falsehood in the dealings of the traders they make it an unceasing subject of reproach, and their confidence is irrecoverably lost. we presented to the chief, the two guides, and the seven hunters who had engaged to accompany us some cloth, blankets, tobacco, knives, daggers, besides other useful iron materials, and a gun to each; also a keg of very weak spirits and water which they kept until the evening as they had to try their guns before dark and make the necessary preparations for commencing the journey on the morrow. they however did not leave us so soon, as the chief was desirous of being present with his party at the dance which was given in the evening to our canadian voyagers. they were highly entertained by the vivacity and agility displayed by our companions in their singing and dancing, and especially by their imitating the gestures of a canadian who placed himself in the most ludicrous postures and, whenever this was done, the gravity of the chief gave way to violent bursts of laughter. in return for the gratification akaitcho had enjoyed he desired his young men to exhibit the dog-rib indian dance; and immediately they ranged themselves in a circle and, keeping their legs widely separated, began to jump simultaneously sideways; their bodies were bent, their hands placed on their hips, and they uttered forcibly the interjection tsa at each jump. devoid as were their attitudes of grace and their music of harmony we were much amused by the novelty of the exhibition. in the midst of this scene an untoward accident occurred which for a time interrupted our amusements. the tent, in which dr. richardson and i lodged having caught fire from some embers that had been placed in it to expel the mosquitoes, was entirely burnt. hepburn, who was sleeping within it close to some powder, most providentially awoke in time to throw it clear of the flame and rescue the baggage before any material injury had been received. we dreaded the consequences of this disaster upon the fickle minds of the indians and wished it not to be communicated to them. the chief however was soon informed of it by one of his people and expressed his desire that no future misfortune should be concealed from him. we found that he was most concerned to hear that the flag had been burnt, but we removed his anxiety on that point by the assurance that it could easily be repaired. we were advised by mr. wentzel to recommence the dancing after this event lest the indians should imagine, by our putting a stop to it, that we considered the circumstance as an unfavourable commencement of our undertaking. we were however deeply impressed with a grateful sense of the divine providence in averting the threatened destruction of our stores, which would have been fatal to every prospect of proceeding forward this season. august 1. this morning the indians set out, intending to wait for us at the mouth of the yellow-knife river. we remained behind to pack our stores in bales of eighty pounds each, an operation which could not be done in the presence of these indians as they are in the habit of begging for everything they see. our stores consisted of two barrels of gunpowder, one hundred and forty pounds of ball and small shot, four fowling-pieces, a few old trading guns, eight pistols, twenty-four indian daggers, some packages of knives, chisels, nails, and fastenings for a boat; a few yards of cloth, some blankets, needles, looking-glasses, and beads, together with nine fishing-nets, having meshes of different sizes. our provision was two casks of flour, two hundred dried reindeer tongues, some dried moose-meat, portable soup, and arrowroot, sufficient in the whole for ten days' consumption, besides two cases of chocolate, and two canisters of tea. we engaged another canadian voyager at this place and the expedition then consisted of twenty-eight persons, including the officers, and the wives of three of our voyagers, who were brought for the purpose of making shoes and clothes for the men at the winter establishment; there were also three children belonging to two of these women.* (*footnote. the following is the list of the officers and men who composed the expedition on its departure from fort providence: john franklin, lieutenant of the royal navy and commander. john richardson, m.d., surgeon of the royal navy. mr. george back, of the royal navy, admiralty midshipman. mr. robert hood, of the royal navy, admiralty midshipman. mr. frederick wentzel, clerk to the north-west company. john hepburn, english seaman. canadian voyagers: joseph peltier, matthew pelonquin, dit credit, solomon belanger, joseph benoit, joseph gagne, pierre dumas, joseph forcier, ignace perrault, francois samandre, gabriel beauparlant, vincenza fontano, registe vaillant, jean baptiste parent, jean baptiste belanger, jean baptiste belleau, emanuel cournoyee, michel teroahaute, an iroquois, interpreters: pierre st. germain, jean baptiste adam, chipewyan bois brules.) our observations place fort providence in latitude 62 degrees 17 minutes 19 seconds north, longitude 114 degrees 9 minutes 28 seconds west; the variation of the compass is 33 degrees 35 minutes 55 seconds east and the dip of the needle 86 degrees 38 minutes 02 seconds. it is distant from moose-deer island sixty-six geographic miles. this is the last establishment of the traders in this direction, but the north-west company have two to the northward of it on the mackenzie river. it has been erected for the convenience of the copper and dog-rib indians who generally bring such a quantity of reindeer meat that the residents are enabled, out of their superabundance, to send annually some provision to the fort at moose-deer island. they also occasionally procure moose and buffalo meat, but these animals are not numerous on this side of the lake. few furs are collected. les poissons inconnus, trout, pike, carp, and white-fish are very plentiful, and on these the residents principally subsist. their great supply of fish is procured in the latter part of september and the beginning of october, but there are a few taken daily in the nets during the winter. the surrounding country consists almost entirely of coarse-grained granite, frequently enclosing large masses of reddish felspar. these rocks form hills which attain an elevation of three hundred or four hundred feet about a mile behind the house; their surface is generally naked but in the valleys between them grow a few spruce, aspen, and birch trees, together with a variety of shrubs and berry-bearing plants. on the afternoon of the 2nd of august we commenced our journey, having, in addition to our three canoes, a smaller one to convey the women; we were all in high spirits, being heartily glad that the time had at length arrived when our course was to be directed towards the copper-mine river and through a line of country which had not been previously visited by any european. we proceeded to the northward along the eastern side of a deep bay of the lake, passing through various channels formed by an assemblage of rocky islands; and at sunset encamped on a projecting point of the north main shore eight miles from fort providence. to the westward of this arm, or bay of the lake, there is another deep bay that receives the waters of a river which communicates with great marten lake where the north-west company had once a post established. the eastern shores of the great slave lake are very imperfectly known: none of the traders have visited them and the indians give such loose and unsatisfactory accounts that no estimation can be formed of its extent in that direction. these men say there is a communication from its eastern extremity by a chain of lakes with a shallow river which discharges its waters into the sea. this stream they call the thloueetessy, and report it to be navigable for indian canoes only. the forms of the south and western shores are better known from the survey of sir alexander mackenzie and in consequence of the canoes having to pass and repass along these borders annually between moose-deer island and mackenzie's river. our observations made the breadth of the lake between stony island and the north main shore sixty miles less than it is laid down in arrowsmith's map; and there is also a considerable difference in the longitude of the eastern side of the bay, which we entered. this lake, owing to its great depth, is seldom completely frozen over before the last week in november and the ice, which is generally seven feet thick, breaks up about the middle of june, three weeks later than that of the slave river. the only known outlet to this vast body of water which receives so many streams on its north and south shores is the mackenzie river. august 3. we embarked at three a.m. and proceeded to the entrance of the yellow-knife river of the traders, which is called by the natives begholodessy or river of the toothless fish. we found akaitcho and the hunters with their families encamped here. there were also several other indians of his tribe who intended to accompany us some distance into the interior. this party was quickly in motion after our arrival and we were soon surrounded by a fleet of seventeen indian canoes. in company with them we paddled up the river, which is one hundred and fifty yards wide, and in an hour came to a cascade of five feet where we were compelled to make a portage of one hundred and fifty-eight yards. we next crossed a dilatation of the river, about six miles in length, upon which the name of lake prosperous was bestowed. its shores, though scantily supplied with wood, are very picturesque. akaitcho caused himself to be paddled by his slave, a young man of the dog-rib nation whom he had taken by force from his friends; when he thought himself however out of reach of our observation he laid aside a good deal of his state and assisted in the labour; and after a few days' further acquaintance with us he did not hesitate to paddle in our presence or even carry his canoe on the portages. several of the canoes were managed by women who proved to be noisy companions, for they quarrelled frequently, and the weakest was generally profuse in her lamentations, which were not at all diminished when the husband attempted to settle the difference by a few blows from his paddle. an observation near the centre of the lake gave 114 degrees 13 minutes 39 seconds west and 33 degrees 8 minutes 06 seconds east variation. leaving the lake we ascended a very strong rapid and arrived at a range of three steep cascades situated in the bend of the river. here we made a portage of one thousand three hundred yards over a rocky hill which received the name of the bowstring portage from its shape. we found that the indians had greatly the advantage of us in this operation; the men carried their small canoes, the women and children the clothes and provisions, and at the end of the portage they were ready to embark, whilst it was necessary for our people to return four times before they could transport the weighty cargo with which we were burdened. after passing through another expansion of the river and over the steep portage of one hundred and fifteen yards we encamped on a small rocky isle, just large enough to hold our party, and the indians took possession of an adjoining rock. we were now thirty miles from fort providence. as soon as the tents were pitched the officers and men were divided into watches for the night, a precaution intended to be taken throughout the journey, not merely to prevent our being surprised by strangers but also to show our companions that we were constantly on our guard. the chief, who suffered nothing to escape his observation, remarked that he should sleep without anxiety among the esquimaux for he perceived no enemy could surprise us. after supper we retired to rest but our sleep was soon interrupted by the indians joining in loud lamentations over a sick child whom they supposed to be dying. dr. richardson however immediately went to the boy and administered some medicine which relieved his pain and put a stop to their mourning. the temperatures this day were at four a.m. 54 degrees, three p.m. 72 degrees, at seven p.m. 65 degrees. on the 4th we crossed a small lake and passed in succession over the blueberry cascade and double fall portages where the river falls over ridges of rocks that completely obstruct the passages for canoes. we came to three strong rapids beyond these barriers, which were surmounted by the aid of the poles and lines, and then to a bend of the river in which the cascades were so frequent that to avoid them we carried the canoes into a chain of small lakes. we entered them by a portage of nine hundred and fifty paces, and during the afternoon traversed three other grassy lakes and encamped on the banks of the river, at the end of the yellow-knife portage, of three hundred and fifty paces. this day's work was very laborious to our men. akaitcho however had directed his party to assist them in carrying their burdens on the portages, which they did cheerfully. this morning mr. back caught several fish with a fly, a method of fishing entirely new to the indians, and they were not more delighted than astonished at his skill and success. the extremes of temperature today were 54 and 65 degrees. scarcity of provisions, and discontent of the canadian voyagers. on august 5th we continued the ascent of the river, which varied much in breadth, as did the current in rapidity. it flows between high rocky banks on which there is sufficient soil to support pines, birch, and poplars. five portages were crossed, then the rocky lake, and we finished our labours at the end of the sixth portage. the issue of dried meat for breakfast this morning had exhausted all our stock, and no other provision remained but the portable soups and a few pounds of preserved meat. at the recommendation of akaitcho the hunters were furnished with ammunition and desired to go forward as speedily as possible to the part where the reindeer were expected to be found, and to return to us with any provision they could procure. he also assured us that in our advance towards them we should come to some lakes abounding in fish. many of the indians, being likewise in distress for food, decided on separating from us and going on at a quicker pace than we could travel. akaitcho himself was always furnished with a portion at our meals as a token of regard which the traders have taught the chiefs to expect and which we willingly paid. the next morning we crossed a small lake and a portage before we entered the river; shortly afterwards the canoes and cargoes were carried a mile along its banks to avoid three very strong rapids, and over another portage into a narrow lake; we encamped on an island in the middle of it to set the nets; but they only yielded a few fish and we had a very scanty supper as it was necessary to deal out our provision sparingly. the longitude 114 degrees 27 minutes 03 seconds west and variation 33 degrees 00 minutes 04 seconds east were observed. we had the mortification of finding the nets entirely empty next morning, an untoward circumstance that discouraged our voyagers very much; and they complained of being unable to support the fatigue to which they were daily exposed on their present scanty fare. we had seen with regret that the portages were more frequent as we advanced to the northward and feared that their strength would fail if provision were not soon obtained. we embarked at six, proceeded to the head of the lake, and crossed a portage of two thousand five hundred paces leading over ridges of sandhills which nourished pines of a larger size than we had lately seen. this conducted us to mossy lake whence we regained the river after traversing another portage. the birch and poplar portages next followed, and beyond these we came to a part where the river takes a great circuit and its course is interrupted by several heavy falls. the guide therefore advised us to quit it and proceed through a chain of nine lakes extending to the north-east which we did and encamped on icy portage where the nets were set. the bottom of the valley through which the track across this portage led was covered with ice four or five feet thick, the remains of a large iceberg which is annually formed there by the snow drifting into the valley and becoming consolidated into ice by the overflowing of some springs that are warm enough to resist the winter's cold. the latitude is 63 degrees 22 minutes 15 seconds north, longitude 114 degrees 15 minutes 30 seconds west. we were alarmed in the night by our fire communicating to the dry moss which, spreading by the force of a strong wind, encircled the encampment and threatened destruction to our canoes and baggage. the watch immediately aroused all the men who quickly removed whatever could be injured to a distant part and afterwards succeeded in extinguishing the flame. august 8. during this day we crossed five portages, passing over a very bad road. the men were quite exhausted with fatigue by five p.m. when we were obliged to encamp on the borders of the fifth lake, in which the fishing-nets were set. we began this evening to issue some portable soup and arrowroot which our companions relished very much; but this food is too unsubstantial to support their vigour under their daily exhausting labour, and we could not furnish them with a sufficient quantity even of this to satisfy their desires. we commenced our labours on the next day in a very wet uncomfortable state as it had rained through the night until four a.m. the fifth grassy lake was crossed and four others, with their intervening portages, and we returned to the river by a portage of one thousand four hundred and fifteen paces. the width of the stream here is about one hundred yards, its banks are moderately high and scantily covered with wood. we afterwards twice carried the cargoes along its banks to avoid a very stony rapid and then crossed the first carp portage in longitude 114 degrees 2 minutes 01 seconds west, variation of the compass 32 degrees 30 minutes 40 seconds east, and encamped on the borders of lower carp lake. the chief having told us that this was a good lake for fishing we determined on halting for a day or two to recruit our men, of whom three were lame and several others had swelled legs. the chief himself went forward to look after the hunters and promised to make a fire as a signal if they had killed any reindeer. all the indians had left us in the course of yesterday and today to seek these animals except the guide keskarrah. august 10. the nets furnishing only four carp we embarked for the purpose of searching for a better spot and encamped again on the shores of the same lake. the spirits of the men were much revived by seeing some recent traces of reindeer at this place, which circumstance caused them to cherish the hope of soon getting a supply of meat from the hunters. they were also gratified by finding abundance of blueberries near the encampment, which made an agreeable and substantial addition to their otherwise scanty fare. we were teased by sandflies this evening although the thermometer did not rise above 45 degrees. the country through which we had travelled for some days consists principally of granite, intermixed in some spots with mica-slate, often passing into clay-slate. but the borders of lower carp lake where the gneiss formation prevails are composed of hills having less altitude, fewer precipices, and more rounded summits. the valleys are less fertile, containing a gravelly soil and fewer trees, so that the country has throughout a more barren aspect. august 11. having caught sufficient trout, white-fish, and carp yesterday and this morning to afford the party two hearty meals, and the men having recovered from their fatigue, we proceeded on our journey, crossed the upper carp portage, and embarked on the lake of that name where we had the gratification of paddling for ten miles. we put up at its termination to fish by the advice of our guide and the following observations were then taken: longitude 113 degrees 46 minutes 35 seconds west, variation of the compass 36 degrees 45 minutes 30 seconds east, dip 87 degrees 11 minutes 48 seconds. at this place we first perceived the north end of our dipping-needle to pass the perpendicular line when the instrument was faced to the west. we had scarcely quitted the encampment next day before an indian met us with the agreeable communication that the hunters had made several fires which were certain indications of their having killed reindeer. this intelligence inspired our companions with fresh energy and they quickly traversed the next portage and paddled through the reindeer lake; at the north side of it we found the canoes of our hunters and learned from our guide that the indians usually leave their canoes here as the water communication on their hunting grounds is bad. the yellow-knife river had now dwindled into an insignificant rivulet and we could not trace it beyond the next lake except as a mere brook. the latitude of its source 64 degrees 1 minute 30 seconds north, longitude 113 degrees 36 minutes 00 seconds west, and its length is one hundred and fifty-six statute miles. though this river is of sufficient breadth and depth for navigating in canoes yet i conceive its course is too much interrupted by cascades and rapids for its ever being used as a channel for the conveyance of merchandise. whilst the crews were employed in making a portage over the foot of prospect hill we ascended to the top of it and, as it is the highest ground in the neighbourhood, its summit, which is about five hundred feet above the water, commands an extensive view. akaitcho who was here with his family pointed out to us the smoke of the distant fires which the hunters had made. the prospect is agreeably diversified by an intermixture of hill and valley and the appearance of twelve lakes in different directions. on the borders of these lakes a few thin pine groves occur, but the country in general is destitute of almost every vegetable except a few berry-bearing shrubs and lichens, and has a very barren aspect. the hills are composed of gneiss but their acclivities are covered with a coarse gravelly soil. there are many large loose stones both on their sides and summits composed of the same materials as the solid rock. we crossed another lake in the evening, encamped and set the nets. the chief made a large fire to announce our situation to the hunters. difficulties with regard to the indian guides. refusal to proceed. august 13. we caught twenty fish this morning but they were small and furnished but a scanty breakfast for the party. whilst this meal was preparing our canadian voyagers, who had been for some days past murmuring at their meagre diet and striving to get the whole of our little provision to consume at once, broke out into open discontent, and several of them threatened they would not proceed forward unless more food was given to them. this conduct was the more unpardonable as they saw we were rapidly approaching the fires of the hunters and that provision might soon be expected. i therefore felt the duty incumbent on me to address them in the strongest manner on the danger of insubordination and to assure them of my determination to inflict the heaviest punishment on any that should persist in their refusal to go on, or in any other way attempt to retard the expedition. i considered this decisive step necessary, having learned from the gentlemen most intimately acquainted with the character of the canadian voyagers that they invariably try how far they can impose upon every new master and that they will continue to be disobedient and intractable if they once gain any ascendancy over him. i must admit however that the present hardships of our companions were of a kind which few could support without murmuring, and no one could witness without a sincere pity for their sufferings. after this discussion we went forward until sunset. in the course of the day we crossed seven lakes and as many portages. just as we had encamped we were delighted to see four of the hunters arrive with the flesh of two reindeer. this seasonable supply, though only sufficient for this evening's and the next day's consumption, instantly revived the spirits of our companions and they immediately forgot all their cares. as we did not after this period experience any deficiency of food during this journey they worked extremely well and never again reflected upon us as they had done before for rashly bringing them into an inhospitable country where the means of subsistence could not be procured. several blue fish resembling the grayling were caught in a stream which flows out of hunter's lake. it is remarkable for the largeness of the dorsal fin and the beauty of its colours. august 14. having crossed the hunter's portage we entered the lake of the same name in latitude 64 degrees 6 minutes 47 seconds north, longitude 113 degrees 25 minutes 00 seconds west; but soon quitted it by desire of the indian guide and diverged more to the eastward that we might get into the line upon which our hunters had gone. this was the only consideration that could have induced us to remove to a chain of small lakes connected by long portages. we crossed three of these and then were obliged to encamp to rest the men. the country is bare of wood except a few dwarf birch bushes which grow near the borders of the lakes, and here and there a few stunted pines, and our fuel principally consisted of the roots of decayed pines which we had some difficulty to collect in sufficient quantity for cooking. when this material is wanting the reindeer lichen and other mosses that grow in profusion on the gravelly acclivities of the hills are used as substitutes. three more of the hunters arrived with meat this evening which supply came very opportunely as our nets were unproductive. at eight p.m. a faint aurora borealis appeared to the southward, the night was cold, the wind strong from north-west. we were detained some time in the following morning before the fishing-nets, which had sunk in the night, could be recovered. after starting we first crossed the orkney lake, then a portage which brought us to sandy lake and here we missed one of our barrels of powder which the steersman of the canoe then recollected had been left the day before. he and two other men were sent back to search for it in the small canoe. the rest of the party proceeded to the portage on the north side of the grizzly-bear lake, where the hunters had made a deposit of meat, and there encamped to await their return which happened at nine p.m. with the powder. we perceived from the direction of this lake that considerable labour would have been spared if we had continued our course yesterday, instead of striking off at the guide's suggestion, as the bottom of this lake cannot be far separated from either hunter's lake or the one to the westward of it. the chief and all the indians went off to hunt accompanied by pierre st. germain the interpreter. they returned at night bringing some meat and reported that they had put the carcasses of several reindeer en cache. these were sent for early next morning and, as the weather was unusually warm, the thermometer at noon being 77 degrees, we remained stationary all day that the women might prepare the meat for keeping by stripping the flesh from the bones and drying it in the sun over a slow fire. the hunters were again successful and by the evening we had collected the carcasses of seventeen deer. as this was a sufficient store to serve us until we arrived at winter lake the chief proposed that he and his hunters should proceed to that place and collect some provision against our arrival. he also requested that we would allow him to be absent ten days to provide his family with clothing as the skin of the reindeer is unfit for that purpose after the month of september. we could not refuse to grant such a reasonable request but caused st. germain to accompany him that his absence might not exceed the appointed time. previous to his departure the chief warned us to be constantly on our guard against the grizzly bears which he described as being numerous in this vicinity and very ferocious; one had been seen this day by an indian, to which circumstance the lake owes its appellation. we afterwards learned that the only bear in this part of the country is the brown bear and that this by no means possesses the ferocity which the indians, with their usual love of exaggeration, ascribe to it. the fierce grizzly bear which frequents the sources of the missouri is not found on the barren grounds. the shores of this lake and the neighbouring hills are principally composed of sand and gravel; they are much varied in their outline and present some picturesque scenery. the following observations were taken here: latitude 64 degrees 15 minutes 17 seconds north, longitude 113 degrees 2 minutes 39 seconds west; variation of the compass 36 degrees 50 minutes 47 seconds east; and dip of the needle 87 degrees 20 minutes 35 seconds. on august the 17th, having finished drying the meat which had been retarded by the heavy showers of rain that fell in the morning, we embarked at one p.m. and crossed two lakes and two portages. the last of these was two thousand and sixty-six paces long and very rugged so that the men were much fatigued. on the next day we received the flesh of four reindeer by the small canoe which had been sent for it and heard that the hunters had killed several more deer on our route. we saw many of these animals as we passed along; and our companions, delighted with the prospect of having food in abundance, now began to accompany their paddling with singing, which they had discontinued ever since our provisions became scarce. we passed from one small lake to another over four portages, then crossed a lake about six miles in diameter and encamped on its border where, finding pines, we enjoyed the luxury of a good fire, which we had not done for some days. at ten p.m. the aurora borealis appeared very brilliant in an arch across the zenith from north-west to south-east which afterwards gave place to a beautiful corona borealis. august 19. after crossing a portage of five hundred and ninety-five paces, a small lake and another portage of two thousand paces, which occupied the crews seven hours, we embarked on a small stream running towards the north-west which carried us to the lake where akaitcho proposed that we should pass the winter. the officers ascended several of the loftiest hills in the course of the day, prompted by a natural anxiety to examine the spot which was to be their residence for many months. the prospect however was not then the most agreeable as the borders of the lake seemed to be scantily furnished with wood and that of a kind too small for the purposes of building. we perceived the smoke of a distant fire which the indians suppose had been made by some of the dog-ribbed tribe who occasionally visit this part of the country. embarking at seven next morning we paddled to the western extremity of the lake and there found a small river which flows out of it to the south-west. to avoid a strong rapid at its commencement we made a portage and then crossed to the north bank of the river where the indians recommended that the winter establishment should be erected, and we soon found that the situation they had chosen possessed all the advantages we could desire. the trees were numerous and of a far greater size than we had supposed them to be in a distant view, some of the pines being thirty or forty feet high and two feet in diameter at the root. we determined on placing the house on the summit of the bank which commands a beautiful prospect of the surrounding country. the view in the front is bounded at the distance of three miles by round-backed hills; to the eastward and westward lie the winter and round-rock lakes which are connected by the winter river whose banks are well clothed with pines and ornamented with a profusion of mosses, lichens, and shrubs. in the afternoon we read divine service and offered our thanksgiving to the almighty for his goodness in having brought us thus far on our journey; a duty which we never neglected when stationary on the sabbath. the united length of the portages we had crossed since leaving fort providence is twenty-one statute miles and a half and, as our men had to traverse each portage four times, with a load of one hundred and eighty pounds, and return three times light, they walked in the whole upwards of one hundred and fifty miles. the total length of our voyage from chipewyan is five hundred and fifty-three miles.* (*footnote. stony and slave rivers: 260 statute miles. slave lake: 107 statute miles. yellow-knife river: 156.5 statute miles. barren country between the source of the yellow-knife river and fort enterprise: 29.5 statute miles. total: 553 statute miles.) a fire was made on the south side of the river to inform the chief of our arrival, which, spreading before a strong wind, caught the whole wood, and we were completely enveloped in a cloud of smoke for the three following days. on the next morning our voyagers were divided into two parties, the one to cut the wood for the building of a storehouse and the other to fetch the meat as the hunters procured it. an interpreter was sent with keskarrah the guide to search for the indians who had made the fire seen on saturday, from whom we might obtain some supplies of provision. an indian was also despatched to akaitcho with directions for him to come to this place directly and bring whatever provision he had as we were desirous of proceeding without delay to the copper-mine river. in the evening our men brought in the carcasses of seven reindeer which two hunters had shot yesterday and the women commenced drying the meat for our journey. we also obtained a good supply of fish from our nets today. a heavy rain on the 23rd prevented the men from working either at the building or going for meat; but on the next day the weather was fine and they renewed their labours. the thermometer that day did not rise higher than 42 degrees and it fell to 31 degrees before midnight. on the morning of the 25th we were surprised by some early symptoms of the approach of winter; the small pools were frozen over and a flock of geese passed to the southward. in the afternoon however a fog came on which afterwards changed into rain and the ice quickly disappeared. we suffered great anxiety all the next day respecting john hepburn who had gone to hunt before sunrise on the 25th and had been absent ever since. about four hours after his departure the wind changed and a dense fog obscured every mark by which his course to the tents could be directed, and we thought it probable he had been wandering in an opposite direction to our situation as the two hunters who had been sent to look for him returned at sunset without having seen him. akaitcho arrived with his party and we were greatly disappointed at finding they had stored up only fifteen reindeer for us. st. germain informed us that, having heard of the death of the chief's brother-in-law, they had spent several days in bewailing his loss instead of hunting. we learned also that the decease of this man had caused another party of the tribe, who had been sent by mr. wentzel to prepare provision for us on the banks of the copper-mine river, to remove to the shores of the great bear lake, distant from our proposed route. mortifying as these circumstances were they produced less painful sensations than we experienced in the evening by the refusal of akaitcho to accompany us in the proposed descent of the copper-mine river. when mr. wentzel, by my direction, communicated to him my intention of proceeding at once on that service he desired a conference with me upon the subject which, being immediately granted, he began by stating that the very attempt would be rash and dangerous as the weather was cold, the leaves were falling, some geese had passed to the southward, and the winter would shortly set in and that, as he considered the lives of all who went on such a journey would be forfeited, he neither would go himself nor permit his hunters to accompany us. he said there was no wood within eleven days' march, during which time we could not have any fire as the moss which the indians use in their summer excursions would be too wet for burning in consequence of the recent rains; that we should be forty days in descending the copper-mine river, six of which would be expended in getting to its banks, and that we might be blocked up by the ice in the next moon; and during the whole journey the party must experience great sufferings for want of food as the reindeer had already left the river. he was now reminded that these statements were very different from the account he had given both at fort providence and on the route hither; and that up to this moment we had been encouraged by his conversation to expect that the party might descend the copper-mine river accompanied by the indians. he replied that at the former place he had been unacquainted with our slow mode of travelling and that the alteration in his opinion arose from the advance of winter. we now informed him that we were provided with instruments by which we could ascertain the state of the air and water and that we did not imagine the winter to be so near as he supposed; however we promised to return on discovering the first change in the season. he was also told that, all the baggage being left behind, our canoes would now of course travel infinitely more expeditiously than anything he had hitherto witnessed. akaitcho appeared to feel hurt that we should continue to press the matter further and answered with some warmth: "well, i have said everything i can urge to dissuade you from going on this service on which it seems you wish to sacrifice your own lives as well as the indians who might attend you: however if after all i have said you are determined to go some of my young men shall join the party because it shall not be said that we permitted you to die alone after having brought you hither; but from the moment they embark in the canoes i and my relatives shall lament them as dead." we could only reply to this forcible appeal by assuring him and the indians who were seated around him that we felt the most anxious solicitude for the safety of every individual and that it was far from our intention to proceed without considering every argument for and against the proposed journey. we next informed him that it would be very desirable to see the river at any rate, that we might give some positive information about its situation and size in our next letters to the great chief; and that we were very anxious to get on its banks for the purpose of observing an eclipse of the sun which we described to him and said would happen in a few days. he received this communication with more temper than the preceding, though he immediately assigned as a reason for his declining to go that "the indians must now procure a sufficient quantity of deer-skins for winter clothing for themselves, and dresses for the canadians who would need them if they had to travel in the winter." finding him so averse to proceed and feeling at the same time how essential his continuance with us was, not only to our future success but even to our existence during the winter, i closed the conversation here, intending to propose to him next morning some modification of the plan which might meet his approbation. soon after we were gone however he informed mr. wentzel, with whom he was in the habit of speaking confidentially, that, as his advice was neglected, his presence was useless and he should therefore return to fort providence with his hunters after he had collected some winter provision for us. mr. wentzel having reported this to me the night was passed in great anxiety and, after weighing all the arguments that presented themselves to my mind, i came reluctantly to the determination of relinquishing the intention of going any distance down the river this season. i had considered that, could we ascertain what were the impediments to the navigation of the copper-mine river, what wood grew on its banks, if fit for boat building, and whether drift timber existed where the country was naked, our operations next season would be much facilitated; but we had also cherished the hope of reaching the sea this year for the indians in their conversations with us had only spoken of two great rapids as likely to obstruct us. this was a hope extremely painful to give up for, in the event of success, we should have ascertained whether the sea was clear of ice and navigable for canoes, have learned the disposition of the esquimaux, and might have obtained other information that would have had great influence on our future proceedings. i must confess however that my opinion of the probability of our being able to attain so great a desideratum this season had been somewhat altered by the recent changes in the weather although, had the chief been willing to accompany us with his party, i should have made the attempt, with the intention however of returning immediately upon the first decided appearance of winter. on the morning of august 27th, having communicated my sentiments to the officers on the subject of the conference last evening, they all agreed that the descent to the sea this season could not be attempted without hazarding a complete rupture with the indians; but they thought that a party should be sent to ascertain the distance and size of the copper-mine river. these opinions being in conformity with my own i determined on despatching messrs. back and hood on that service in a light canoe as soon as possible. we witnessed this morning an instance of the versatility of our indian companions which gave us much uneasiness as it regarded the safety of our faithful attendant hepburn. when they heard on their arrival last night of his having been so long absent they expressed the greatest solicitude about him, and the whole party immediately volunteered to go in search of him as soon as daylight permitted. their resolutions however seem to have been changed in consequence of the subsequent conversation we had with the chief, and we found all of them indisposed to proceed on that errand this morning; and it was only by much entreaty that three of the hunters and a boy were prevailed upon to go. they fortunately succeeded in their search and we were infinitely rejoiced to see hepburn return with them in the afternoon, though much jaded by the fatigue he had undergone. he had got bewildered, as we had conjectured, in the foggy weather on the 25th, and had been wandering about ever since except during half an hour that he slept yesterday. he had eaten only a partridge and some berries for his anxiety of mind had deprived him of appetite; and of a deer which he had shot he took only the tongue, and the skin to protect himself from the wind and rain. this anxiety we learned from him was occasioned by the fear that the party which was about to descend the copper-mine river might be detained until he was found, or that it might have departed without him. he did not entertain any dread of the white bears of whose numbers and ferocious attacks the indians had been constantly speaking since we had entered the barren grounds. our fears for his safety however were in a considerable degree excited by the accounts we had received of these animals. having made a hearty supper he retired to rest, slept soundly, and arose next morning in perfect health. on the 28th of august akaitcho was informed of our intention to send a party to the river and of the reasons for doing so, of which he approved when he found that i had relinquished the idea of going myself, in compliance with the desire which he and the indians had expressed; and he immediately said two of the hunters should go to provide them with food on the journey and to serve as guides. during this conversation we gathered from him for the first time that there might still be some of his tribe near to the river from whom the party could get provision. our next object was to despatch the indians to their hunting-ground to collect provision for us, and to procure the fat of the deer for our use during the winter, and for making the pemmican we should require in the spring. they were therefore furnished with some ammunition, clothing, and other necessary articles, and directed to take their departure as soon as possible. akaitcho came into our tent this evening at supper and made several pertinent inquiries respecting the eclipse of which we had spoken last night. he desired to know the effect that would be produced and the cause of it, which we endeavoured to explain and, having gained this information, he sent for several of his companions that they might also have it repeated to them. they were most astonished at our knowing the time at which this event should happen and remarked that this knowledge was a striking proof of the superiority of the whites over the indians. we took advantage of this occasion to speak to them respecting the supreme being, who ordered all the operations of nature, and to impress on their minds the necessity of paying strict attention to their moral duties, in obedience to his will. they readily assented to all these points and akaitcho assured us that both himself and his young men would exert themselves in obtaining provision for us in return for the interesting communications we had just made to them. having received a supply of dried meat from the indian lodges we were enabled to equip the party for the copper-mine river, and at nine a.m. on the 29th mr. back and mr. hood embarked on that service in a light canoe with st. germain, eight canadians, and one indian. we could not furnish them with more than eight days' provision which, with their blankets, two tents, and a few instruments, composed their lading. mr. back, who had charge of the party, was directed to proceed to the river and, if when he arrived at its banks the weather should continue to be mild and the temperature of the water was not lower than 40 degrees, he might embark and descend the stream for a few days to gain some knowledge of its course, but he was not to go so far as to risk his being able to return to this place in a fortnight with the canoe. but if the weather should be severe and the temperature of the water below 40 degrees he was not to embark but return immediately and endeavour to ascertain the best track for our goods to be conveyed thither next spring. we had seen that the water decreases rapidly in temperature at this season and i feared that if he embarked to descend the river when it was below 40 degrees the canoe might be frozen in and the crew have to walk back in very severe weather. as soon as the canoe had started akaitcho and the indians took their departure also, except two of the hunters who stayed behind to kill deer in our neighbourhood, and old keskarrah and his family who remained as our guests. the fishing-nets were this day transferred from the river in which they had been set since our arrival to winter lake, whither the fish had removed, and the fishermen built a log-hut on its borders to reside in that they might attend more closely to their occupation. the month of september commenced with very disagreeable weather. the temperature of the atmosphere ranged between 39 and 31 degrees during the first three days, and that of the water in the river decreased from 49 to 44 degrees. several reindeer and a large flight of white geese passed to the southward. these circumstances led us to fear for the comfort, if not for the safety, of our absent friends. on the 4th of september we commenced building our dwelling-house, having cut sufficient wood for the frame of it. in the afternoon of september the 6th we removed our tent to the summit of a hill about three miles distant for the better observing the eclipse, which was calculated to occur on the next morning. we were prevented however from witnessing it by a heavy snow-storm, and the only observation we could then make was to examine whether the temperature of the atmosphere altered during the eclipse, but we found that both the mercurial and spirit thermometers remained steadily at 30 degrees for a quarter of an hour previous to its commencement, during its continuance, and for half an hour subsequent to its termination; we remarked the wind increased very much and the snow fell in heavier flakes just after the estimated time of its commencement. this boisterous weather continued until three p.m. when the wind abated and the snow changed to rain. visit of observation to the upper part of copper-mine river. as there was now no immediate occasion for my remaining on the spot, the eclipse being over and the indians having removed to their hunting grounds, dr. richardson and i determined on taking a pedestrian excursion to the copper-mine river, leaving mr. wentzel in charge of the men and to superintend the buildings. on the morning of september the 9th we commenced our journey under the guidance of old keskarrah, and accompanied by john hepburn and samandre, who carried our blankets, cooking utensils, hatchets, and a small supply of dried meat. our guide led us from the top of one hill to the top of another, making as straight a course to the northward as the numerous lakes with which the country is intersected, would permit. at noon we reached a remarkable hill with precipitous sides, named by the copper indians the dog-rib rock, and its latitude, 64 degrees 34 minutes 52 seconds south, was obtained. the canoe-track passes to the eastward of this rock but we kept to the westward as being the more direct course. from the time we quitted the banks of the winter river we saw only a few detached clumps of trees; but after we passed the dog-rib rock even these disappeared and we travelled through a naked country. in the course of the afternoon keskarrah killed a reindeer and loaded himself with its head and skin, and our men also carried off a few pounds of its flesh for supper; but their loads were altogether too great to permit them to take much additional weight. keskarrah offered to us as a great treat the raw marrow from the hind legs of the animal, of which all the party ate except myself and thought it very good. i was also of the same opinion when i subsequently conquered my then too fastidious taste. we halted for the night on the borders of a small lake which washed the base of a ridge of sandhills about three hundred feet high, having walked in direct distance sixteen miles. there were four ancient pine-trees here which did not exceed six or seven feet in height but whose branches spread themselves out for several yards and we gladly cropped a few twigs to make a bed and to protect us from the frozen ground, still white from a fall of snow which took place in the afternoon. we were about to cut down one of these trees for firewood but our guide solicited us to spare them and made us understand by signs that they had been long serviceable to his nation and that we ought to content ourselves with a few of the smaller branches. as soon as we comprehended his request we complied with it and our attendants, having with some trouble grubbed up a sufficient quantity of roots of the dwarf birch to make a fire, we were enabled to prepare a comfortable supper of reindeer's meat which we despatched with the appetites which travelling in this country never fails to ensure. we then stretched ourselves out on the pine brush and, covered by a single blanket, enjoyed a night of sound repose. the small quantity of bed-clothes we carried induced us to sleep without undressing. old keskarrah followed a different plan; he stripped himself to the skin and, having toasted his body for a short time over the embers of the fire, he crept under his deer-skin and rags, previously spread out as smoothly as possible and, coiling himself up in a circular form, fell asleep instantly. this custom of undressing to the skin even when lying in the open air is common to all the indian tribes. the thermometer at sunset stood at 29 degrees. resuming our journey next morning we pursued a northerly course but had to make a considerable circuit round the western ends of two lakes whose eastern extremities were hidden from our view. the march was very uncomfortable as the wind was cold and there was a constant fall of snow until noon; our guide too persisted in taking us over the summit of every hill that lay in the route so that we had the full benefit of the breeze. we forded two streams in the afternoon flowing between small lakes and, being wet, did not much relish having to halt whilst keskarrah pursued a herd of reindeer; but there was no alternative as he set off and followed them without consulting our wishes. the old man loaded himself with the skin and some meat of the animal he killed in addition to his former burden; but after walking two miles, finding his charge too heavy for his strength, he spread the skin on the rock and deposited the meat under some stones, intending to pick them up on our return. we put up at sunset on the borders of a large lake, having come twelve miles. a few dwarf birches afforded us but a scanty fire yet, being sheltered from the wind by a sandy bank, we passed the night comfortably though the temperature was 30 degrees. a number of geese passed over us to the southward. we set off early next morning and marched at a tolerably quick pace. the atmosphere was quite foggy and our view was limited to a short distance. at noon the sun shone forth for a few minutes and the latitude 64 degrees 57 minutes 7 seconds was observed. the small streams that we had hitherto crossed run uniformly to the southward. at the end of sixteen miles and a half we encamped amongst a few dwarf pines and were much rejoiced at having a good fire as the night was very stormy and cold. the thermometer fluctuated this day between 31 and 35 degrees. though the following morning was foggy and rainy we were not sorry to quit the cold and uncomfortable beds of rock upon which we had slept and commence our journey at an early hour. after walking about three miles we passed over a steep sandy ridge and found the course of the rivulets running towards the north and north-west. our progress was slow in the early part of the morning and we were detained for two hours on the summit of a hill exposed to a very cold wind whilst our guide went in an unsuccessful pursuit of some reindeer. after walking a few miles farther the fog cleared away and keskarrah pointed out the copper-mine river at a distance and we pushed towards it with all the speed we could put forth. at noon we arrived at an arm of point lake, an extensive expansion of the river, and observed the latitude 65 degrees 9 minutes 06 seconds north. we continued our walk along the south end of this arm for about a mile farther and then halted to breakfast amidst a cluster of pines. here the longitude 112 degrees 57 minutes 25 seconds was observed. after breakfast we set out and walked along the east side of the arm towards the main body of the lake, leaving samandre to prepare an encampment amongst the pines against our return. we found the main channel deep, its banks high and rocky, and the valleys on its borders interspersed with clusters of spruce-trees. the latter circumstance was a source of much gratification to us. the temperature of its surface water was 41 degrees, that of the air being 43 degrees. having gained all the information we could collect from our guide and from personal observation we retraced our steps to the encampment, and on the way back hepburn and keskarrah shot several waveys (anas hyperborea) which afforded us a seasonable supply, our stock of provision being nearly exhausted. these birds were feeding in large flocks on the crow-berries which grew plentifully on the sides of the hills. we reached the encampment after dark, found a comfortable hut prepared for our reception, made an excellent supper, and slept soundly though it snowed hard the whole night. the hills in this neighbourhood are higher than those about fort enterprise; they stand however in the same detached manner without forming connected ranges; and the bottom of every valley is occupied either by a small lake or a stony marsh. on the borders of such of these lakes as communicate with the copper-mine river there are a few groves of spruce-trees, generally growing on accumulations of sand on the acclivities of the hills. we did not quit the encampment on the morning of september 13th until nine o'clock in consequence of a constant fall of snow; but at that hour we set out on our return to fort enterprise and, taking a route somewhat different from the one by which we came, kept to the eastward of a chain of lakes. soon after noon the weather became extremely disagreeable; a cold northerly gale came on attended by snow and sleet, and the temperature fell very soon from 43 to 34 degrees. the waveys, alarmed at the sudden change, flew over our heads in great numbers to a milder climate. we walked as quickly as possible to get a place that would furnish some fuel and shelter; but the fog occasioned us to make frequent halts from the inability of our guide to trace his way. at length we came to a spot which afforded us plenty of dwarf birches but they were so much frozen and the snow fell so thick that upwards of two hours were wasted in endeavouring to make a fire, during which time our clothes were freezing upon us. at length our efforts were crowned with success and after a good supper we laid or rather sat down to sleep, for the nature of the ground obliged us to pass the night in a demi-erect position with our backs against a bank of earth. the thermometer was 16 degrees at six p.m. after enjoying a more comfortable night's rest than we had expected we set off at daybreak, the thermometer then standing at 18 degrees. the ground was covered with snow, the small lakes were frozen, and the whole scene had a wintry appearance. we got on but slowly at first owing to an old sprained ankle which had been very troublesome to me for the last three days and was this morning excessively painful. in fording a rivulet however the application of cold water gave me immediate relief and i walked with ease the remainder of the day. in the afternoon we rejoined our track outwards and came to the place where keskarrah had made his deposit of provision, which proved a very acceptable supply as our stock was exhausted. we then crossed some sandhills and encamped amidst a few small pines, having walked thirteen miles. the comfort of a good fire made us soon insensible to the fatigue we had experienced through the day in marching over the rugged stones whose surface was rendered slippery by the frost. the thermometer at seven p.m. stood at 27 degrees. return to the winter quarters of fort enterprise. we set off at sunrise next morning and our provision being expended pushed on as fast as we could to fort enterprise where we arrived at eight p.m., almost exhausted by a harassing day's march of twenty-two miles. a substantial supper of reindeer steaks soon restored our vigour. we had the happiness of meeting our friends mr. back and mr. hood who had returned from their excursion on the day succeeding that on which we set out; and i received from them the following account of their journey. they proceeded up the winter river to the north end of the little marten lake and then the guide, being unacquainted with the route by water to the copper-mine river, proposed that the canoe should be left. upon this they ascended the loftiest hill in the neighbourhood to examine whether they could discover any large lakes or water communication in the direction where the guide described the river to be. they only saw a small rivulet which was too shallow for the canoe and also wide of the course and, as they perceived the crew would have to carry it over a rugged hilly track, they judiciously decided on leaving it and proceeding forward on foot. having deposited the canoe among a few dwarf birch bushes they commenced their march, carrying their tents, blankets, cooking utensils, and a part of the dried meat. st. germain however had previously delineated with charcoal a man and a house on a piece of bark which he placed over the canoe and the few things that were left to point out to the dog-ribs that they belonged to white people. the party reached the shores of point lake through which the copper-mine river runs on the 1st of september. the next day was too stormy for them to march but on the 3rd they proceeded along its shores to the westward round a mountainous promontory and, perceiving the course of the lake extending to the west-north-west, they encamped near some pines and then enjoyed the luxury of a good fire for the first time since their departure from us. the temperature of the water in the lake was 35 degrees and of the air 32 degrees, but the latter fell to 20 degrees in the course of that night. as their principal object was to ascertain whether any arm of the lake branched nearer to fort enterprise than the part they had fallen upon, to which the transport of our goods could be more easily made next spring, they returned on its borders to the eastward, being satisfied by the appearance of the mountains between south and west that no further examination was necessary in that direction; and they continued their march until the 6th at noon without finding any part of the lake inclining nearer the fort. they therefore encamped to observe the eclipse which was to take place on the following morning but, a violent snowstorm rendering the observation impossible, they commenced their return and after a comfortless and laborious march regained their canoe on the 10th and, embarking in it, arrived the same evening at the house. point lake varied, as far as they traced, from one to three miles in width. its main course was nearly east and west, but several arms branched off in different directions. i was much pleased with the able manner in which these officers executed the service they had been despatched upon, and was gratified to learn from them that their companions had conducted themselves extremely well and borne the fatigues of their journey most cheerfully. they scarcely ever had more than sufficient fuel to boil the kettle and were generally obliged to lie down in their wet clothes and consequently suffered much from cold. the distance which the parties travelled in their journey to and from point lake may be estimated at one hundred and ten statute miles which, being added to the distances given in the preceding pages, amount to one thousand five hundred and twenty miles that the expedition travelled in 1820 up to the time of its residence at fort enterprise. chapter 8. transactions at fort enterprise. mr. back's narrative of his journey to chipewyan, and return. transactions at fort enterprise. september 1820. during our little expedition to the copper-mine river mr. wentzel had made great progress in the erection of our winter-house having nearly roofed it in. but before proceeding to give an account of a ten months' residence at this place, henceforth designated fort enterprise, i may premise that i shall omit many of the ordinary occurrences of a north american winter as they have been already detailed in so able and interesting a manner by ellis* and confine myself principally to the circumstances which had an influence on our progress in the ensuing summer. the observations on the magnetic needle, the temperature of the atmosphere, the aurora borealis, and other meteorological phenomena, together with the mineralogical and botanical notices, being less interesting to the general reader, are omitted in this edition. (*footnote. voyage to hudson's bay in the dobbs and california.) the men continued to work diligently at the house and by the 30th of september had nearly completed it for our reception when a heavy fall of rain washed the greater part of the mud off the roof. this rain was remarked by the indians as unusual after what they had deemed so decided a commencement of winter in the early part of the month. the mean temperature for the month was 33 3/4 degrees, but the thermometer had sunk as low as 16 degrees and on one occasion rose to 53 degrees. besides the party constantly employed at the house two men were appointed to fish and others were occasionally sent for meat as the hunters procured it. this latter employment, although extremely laborious, was always relished by the canadians as they never failed to use a prescriptive right of helping themselves to the fattest and most delicate parts of the deer. towards the end of the month the reindeer began to quit the barren grounds and came into the vicinity of the house on their way to the woods and, the success of the hunters being consequently great, the necessity of sending for the meat considerably retarded the building of the house. in the meantime we resided in our canvas tents which proved very cold habitations although we maintained a fire in front of them and also endeavoured to protect ourselves from the piercing winds by a barricade of pine branches. on the 6th of october, the house being completed, we struck our tents and removed into it. it was merely a log building, fifty feet long and twenty-four wide, divided into a hall, three bedrooms and a kitchen. the walls and roof were plastered with clay, the floors laid with planks rudely squared with the hatchet, and the windows closed with parchment of deer-skin. the clay which, from the coldness of the weather, required to be tempered before the fire with hot water, froze as it was daubed on and afterwards cracked in such a manner as to admit the wind from every quarter yet, compared with the tents, our new habitation appeared comfortable and, having filled our capacious clay-built chimney with fagots, we spent a cheerful evening before the invigorating blaze. the change was peculiarly beneficial to dr. richardson who, having in one of his excursions incautiously laid down on the frozen side of a hill when heated with walking, had caught a severe inflammatory sore throat which became daily worse whilst we remained in the tents but began to mend soon after he was enabled to confine himself to the more equable warmth of the house. we took up our abode at first on the floor but our working party, who had shown such skill as house carpenters, soon proved themselves to be, with the same tools (the hatchet and crooked knife) excellent cabinetmakers and daily added a table, chair, or bedstead to the comforts of our establishment. the crooked knife generally made of an old file, bent and tempered by heat, serves an indian or canadian voyager for plane, chisel, and auger. with it the snowshoe and canoe-timbers are fashioned, the deals of their sledges reduced to the requisite thinness and polish, and their wooden bowls and spoons hollowed out. indeed though not quite so requisite for existence as the hatchet yet without its aid there would be little comfort in these wilds. on the 7th we were gratified by a sight of the sun after it had been obscured for twelve days. on this and several following days the meridian sun melted the light covering of snow or hoarfrost on the lichens which clothe the barren grounds, and rendered them so tender as to attract great herds of reindeer to our neighbourhood. on the morning of the 10th i estimated the numbers i saw during a short walk at upwards of two thousand. they form into herds of different sizes from ten to a hundred according as their fears or accident induce them to unite or separate. the females being at this time more lean and active usually lead the van. the haunches of the males are now covered to the depth of two inches or more with fat which is beginning to get red and high flavoured and is considered a sure indication of the commencement of the rutting season. their horns, which in the middle of august were yet tender, have now attained their proper size and are beginning to lose their hairy covering which hangs from them in ragged filaments. the horns of the reindeer vary not only with its sex and age but are otherwise so uncertain in their growth that they are never alike in any two individuals. the old males shed theirs about the end of december; the females retain them until the disappearance of the snow enables them to frequent the barren grounds which may be stated to be about the middle or end of may, soon after which period they proceed towards the sea-coast and drop their young. the young males lose their horns about the same time with the females or a little earlier, some of them as early as april. the hair of the reindeer falls in july and is succeeded by a short thick coat of mingled clove, deep reddish and yellowish browns; the belly and under parts of the neck, etc., remaining white. as the winter approaches the hair becomes longer and lighter in its colours and it begins to loosen in may, being then much worn on the sides from the animal rubbing itself against trees and stones. it becomes grayish and almost white before it is completely shed. the indians form their robes of the skins procured in autumn when the hair is short. towards the spring the larvae of the oestrus, attaining a large size, produce so many perforations in the skins that they are good for nothing. the cicatrices only of these holes are to be seen in august but a fresh set of ova have in the meantime been deposited.* (*footnote. "it is worthy of remark that in the month of may a very great number of large larvae exist under the mucous membrane at the root of the tongue and posterior part of the nares and pharynx. the indians consider them to belong to the same species with the oestrus that deposits its ova under the skin: to us the larvae of the former appeared more flattened than those of the latter. specimens of both kinds preserved in spirits were destroyed by the frequent falls they received on the portages." dr. richardson's journal.) the reindeer retire from the sea-coast in july and august, rut in october on the verge of the barren grounds and shelter themselves in the woods during the winter. they are often induced by a few fine days in winter to pay a transitory visit to their favourite pastures in the barren country, but their principal movement to the northward commences generally in the end of april when the snow first begins to melt on the sides of the hills and early in may, when large patches of the ground are visible, they are on the banks of the copper-mine river. the females take the lead in this spring migration and bring forth their young on the sea-coast about the end of may or beginning of june. there are certain spots or passes well-known to the indians, through which the deer invariably pass in their migrations to and from the coast and it has been observed that they always travel against the wind. the principal food of the reindeer in the barren grounds consists of the cetraria nivalis and cucullata, cenomyce rangiferina, cornicularia ochrileuca, and other lichens, and they also eat the hay or dry grass which is found in the swamps in autumn. in the woods they feed on the different lichens which hang from the trees. they are accustomed to gnaw their fallen antlers and are said also to devour mice. the weight of a full-grown barren-ground deer, exclusive of the offal, varies from ninety to one hundred and thirty pounds. there is however a much larger kind found in the woody parts of the country whose carcass weighs from two hundred to two hundred and forty pounds. this kind never leaves the woods but its skin is as much perforated by the gadfly as that of the others, a presumptive proof that the smaller species are not driven to the sea-coast solely by the attacks of that insect. there are a few reindeer occasionally killed in the spring whose skins are entire and these are always fat whereas the others are lean at that season. this insect likewise infests the red-deer (wawaskeesh) but its ova are not found in the skin of the moose or buffalo, nor, as we have been informed, of the sheep and goat that inhabit the rocky mountains, although the reindeer found in those parts (which are of an unusually large kind) are as much tormented by them as the barren-ground variety. the herds of reindeer are attended in their migrations by bands of wolves which destroy a great many of them. the copper indians kill the reindeer in the summer with the gun or, taking advantage of a favourable disposition of the ground, they enclose a herd upon a neck of land and drive them into a lake where they fall an easy prey but, in the rutting season and in the spring, when they are numerous on the skirts of the woods, they catch them in snares. the snares are simple nooses, formed in a rope made of twisted sinew, which are placed in the aperture of a slight hedge constructed of the branches of trees. this hedge is so disposed as to form several winding compartments and, although it is by no means strong, yet the deer seldom attempt to break through it. the herd is led into the labyrinth by two converging rows of poles and one is generally caught at each of the openings by the noose placed there. the hunter too, lying in ambush, stabs some of them with his bayonet as they pass by and the whole herd frequently becomes his prey. where wood is scarce a piece of turf turned up answers the purpose of a pole to conduct them towards the snares. the reindeer has a quick eye but the hunter, by keeping to leeward and using a little caution, may approach very near, their apprehensions being much more easily roused by the smell than the sight of any unusual object. indeed their curiosity often causes them to come close up and wheel around the hunter; thus affording him a good opportunity of singling out the fattest of the herd, and upon these occasions they often become so confused by the shouts and gestures of their enemy that they run backwards and forwards with great rapidity but without the power of making their escape. the copper indians find by experience that a white dress attracts them most readily and they often succeed in bringing them within shot by kneeling and vibrating the gun from side to side in imitation of the motion of a deer's horns when he is in the act of rubbing his head against a stone. the dog-rib indians have a mode of killing these animals which though simple is very successful. it was thus described by mr. wentzel who resided long amongst that people. the hunters go in pairs, the foremost man carrying in one hand the horns and part of the skin of the head of a deer and in the other a small bundle of twigs against which he from time to time rubs the horns, imitating the gestures peculiar to the animal. his comrade follows, treading exactly in his footsteps and holding the guns of both in a horizontal position so that the muzzles project under the arms of him who carries the head. both hunters have a fillet of white skin round their foreheads and the foremost has a strip of the same kind round his wrists. they approach the herd by degrees, raising their legs very slowly but setting them down somewhat suddenly after the manner of a deer, and always taking care to lift their right or left feet simultaneously. if any of the herd leave off feeding to gaze upon this extraordinary phenomenon it instantly stops and the head begins to play its part by licking its shoulders and performing other necessary movements. in this way the hunters attain the very centre of the herd without exciting suspicion and have leisure to single out the fattest. the hindmost man then pushes forward his comrade's gun, the head is dropped, and they both fire nearly at the same instant. the herd scampers off, the hunters trot after them; in a short time the poor animals halt to ascertain the cause of their terror, their foes stop at the same instant and, having loaded as they ran, greet the gazers with a second fatal discharge. the consternation of the deer increases, they run to and fro in the utmost confusion, and sometimes a great part of the herd is destroyed within the space of a few hundred yards. a party who had been sent to akaitcho returned bringing three hundred and seventy pounds of dried meat and two hundred and twenty pounds of suet, together with the unpleasant information that a still larger quantity of the latter article had been found and carried off, as he supposed, by some dog-ribs who had passed that way. the weather becoming daily colder all the lakes in the neighbourhood of the house were completely, and the river partially, frozen over by the middle of the month. the reindeer now began to quit us for more southerly and better-sheltered pastures. indeed their longer residence in our neighbourhood would have been of little service to us, for our ammunition was almost completely expended though we had dealt it of late with a very sparing hand to the indians. we had however already secured in the storehouse the carcasses of one hundred deer together with one thousand pounds of suet and some dried meat, and had moreover eighty deer stowed up at various distances from the house. the necessity of employing the men to build a house for themselves before the weather became too severe obliged us to put the latter en cache, as the voyagers term it, instead of adopting the more safe plan of bringing them to the house. putting a deer en cache means merely protecting it against the wolves and still more destructive wolverines by heavy loads of wood or stones; the latter animal however sometimes digs underneath the pile and renders the precautions abortive. on the 18th mr. back and mr. wentzel set out for fort providence accompanied by beauparlant, belanger, and two indians, akaiyazza and tholezzeh, with their wives, the little forehead and the smiling marten. mr. back had volunteered to go and make the necessary arrangements for transporting the stores we expected from cumberland house and to endeavour to obtain some additional supplies from the establishments at slave lake. if any accident should have prevented the arrival of our stores and the establishments at moose-deer island should be unable to supply the deficiency he was, if he found himself equal to the task, to proceed to chipewyan. ammunition was essential to our existence and a considerable supply of tobacco was also requisite, not only for the comfort of the canadians, who use it largely and had stipulated for it in their engagements, but also as a means of preserving the friendship of the indians. blankets, cloth, and iron-work were scarcely less indispensable to equip our men for the advance next season. mr. wentzel accompanied mr. back to assist him in obtaining from the traders, on the score of old friendship, that which they might be inclined to deny to our necessities. i forwarded by them letters to the colonial office and admiralty detailing the proceedings of the expedition up to this period. on the 22nd we were surprised by a visit from a dog; the poor animal was in low condition and much fatigued. our indians discovered by marks on his ears that he belonged to the dog-ribs. this tribe, unlike the chipewyans and copper indians, had preserved that useful associate of man although, from their frequent intercourse with the latter people, they were not ignorant of the prediction alluded to in a former page. one of our interpreters was immediately despatched with an indian to endeavour to trace out the dog-ribs, whom he supposed might be concealed in the neighbourhood from their dread of the copper indians; although we had no doubt of their coming to us were they aware of our being here. the interpreter however returned without having discovered any traces of strange indians, a circumstance which led us to conclude that the dog had strayed from his masters a considerable time before. towards the end of the month the men completed their house and took up their abode in it. it was thirty-four feet long and eighteen feet wide, was divided into two apartments and was placed at rightangles to the officers' dwelling and facing the storehouse, the three buildings forming three sides of a quadrangle. on the 26th akaitcho and his party arrived, the hunting in this neighbourhood being terminated for the season by the deer having retired southward to the shelter of the woods. the arrival of this large party was a serious inconvenience to us from our being compelled to issue them daily rates of provision from the store. the want of ammunition prevented us from equipping and sending them to the woods to hunt and, although they are accustomed to subsist themselves for a considerable part of the year by fishing or snaring the deer, without having recourse to firearms, yet on the present occasion they felt little inclined to do so and gave scope to their natural love of ease as long as our storehouse seemed to be well stocked. nevertheless as they were conscious of impairing our future resources they did not fail occasionally to remind us that it was not their fault, to express an ardent desire to go hunting, and to request a supply of ammunition although they knew that it was not in our power to give it. the summer birds had by this time entirely deserted us, leaving for our winter companions the raven, cinereous crow, ptarmigan, and snow-bird. the last of the waterfowl that quitted us was a species of diver of the same size with the colymbus arcticus but differing from it in the arrangement of the white spots on its plumage, and in having a yellowish-white bill. this bird was occasionally caught in our fishing-nets. the thermometer during the month of october at fort enterprise never rose above 37 degrees or fell below 5 degrees; the mean temperature for the month was 23 degrees. in the beginning of october a party had been sent to the westward to search for birch to make snowshoe frames, and the indian women were afterwards employed in netting the shoes and preparing leather for winter clothing to the men. robes of reindeer skins were also obtained from the indians and issued to the men who were to travel as they were not only a great deal lighter than blankets but also much warmer and altogether better adapted for a winter in this climate. they are however unfit for summer use as the least moisture causes the skin to spoil and lose its hair. it requires the skins of seven deer to make one robe. the finest are made of the skins of young fawns. the fishing having failed as the weather became more severe was given up on the 5th. it had procured us about one thousand two hundred white-fish, from two to three pounds each. there are two other species of coregoni in winter lake, back's grayling and the round-fish; and a few trout, pike, methye, and red carp were also occasionally obtained from the nets. it may be worthy of notice here that the fish froze as they were taken out of the nets, in a short time became a solid mass of ice and, by a blow or two of the hatchet, were easily split open, when the intestines might be removed in one lump. if in this completely frozen state they were thawed before the fire they recovered their animation. this was particularly the case with the carp and we had occasion to observe it repeatedly as dr. richardson occupied himself with examining the structure of the different species of fish and was always in the winter under the necessity of thawing them before he could cut them. we have seen a carp recover so far as to leap about with much vigour after it had been frozen for thirty-six hours. from the 12th to the 16th we had fine and, for the season, warm weather; and the deer, which had not been seen since the 26th of october, reappeared in the neighbourhood of the house, to the surprise of the indians who attributed their return to the barren grounds to the unusual mildness of the season. on this occasion, by melting some of our pewter cups, we managed to furnish five balls to each of the hunters, but they were all expended unsuccessfully, except by akaitcho who killed two deer. by the middle of the month winter river was firmly frozen over except the small rapid at its commencement which remained open all the winter. the ice on the lake was now nearly two feet thick. after the 16th we had a succession of cold, snowy, and windy weather. we had become anxious to hear of the arrival of mr. back and his party at fort providence. the indians, who had calculated the period at which a messenger ought to have returned from thence to be already passed, became impatient when it had elapsed and, with their usual love of evil augury, tormented us by their melancholy forebodings. at one time they conjectured that the whole party had fallen through the ice; at another that they had been waylaid and cut off by the dog-ribs. in vain did we urge the improbability of the former accident, or the peaceable character of the dog-ribs, so little in conformity with the latter. "the ice at this season was deceitful," they said "and the dog-ribs, though unwarlike, were treacherous." these assertions, so often repeated, had some effect upon the spirits of our canadian voyagers who seldom weigh any opinion they adopt, but we persisted in treating their fears as chimerical for, had we seemed to listen to them for a moment, it is more than probable that the whole of our indians would have gone to fort providence in search of supplies, and we should have found it extremely difficult to have recovered them. the matter was put to rest by the appearance of belanger on the morning of the 23rd and the indians, now running into the opposite extreme, were disposed to give us more credit for our judgment than we deserved. they had had a tedious and fatiguing journey to fort providence and for some days were destitute of provisions. belanger arrived alone; he had walked constantly for the last six-and-thirty hours, leaving his indian companions encamped at the last woods, they being unwilling to accompany him across the barren grounds during the storm that had prevailed for several days and blew with unusual violence on the morning of his arrival. his locks were matted with snow and he was encrusted with ice from head to foot so that we scarcely recognised him when he burst in upon us. we welcomed him with the usual shake of the hand but were unable to give him the glass of rum which every voyager receives on his arrival at a trading post. as soon as his packet was thawed we eagerly opened it to obtain our english letters. the latest were dated on the preceding april. they came by way of canada and were brought up in september to slave lake by north-west company's canoes. we were not so fortunate with regard to our stores; of ten pieces, or bales of 90 pounds weight, which had been sent from york factory by governor williams five of the most essential had been left at the grand rapid on the saskatchewan, owing, as far as we could judge from the accounts that reached us, to the misconduct of the officer to whom they were entrusted and who was ordered to convey them to cumberland house. being overtaken by some of the north-west company's canoes he had insisted on their taking half of his charge as it was intended for the service of government. the north-west gentlemen objected that their canoes had already got a cargo in and that they had been requested to convey our stores from cumberland house only, where they had a canoe waiting for the purpose. the hudson's bay officer upon this deposited our ammunition and tobacco upon the beach and departed without any regard to the serious consequences that might result to us from the want of them. the indians, who assembled at the opening of the packet and sat in silence watching our countenances, were necessarily made acquainted with the non-arrival of our stores and bore the intelligence with unexpected tranquillity. we took care however in our communications with them to dwell upon the more agreeable parts of our intelligence, and they seemed to receive particular pleasure on being informed of the arrival of two esquimaux interpreters at slave lake, on their way to join the party. the circumstance not only quieted their fears of opposition from the esquimaux on our descent to the sea next season, but also afforded a substantial proof of our influence in being able to bring two people of that nation from such a distance. akaitcho, who is a man of great penetration and shrewdness, duly appreciated these circumstances; indeed he has often surprised us by his correct judgment of the character of individuals amongst the traders of our own party, although his knowledge of their opinions was in most instances obtained through the imperfect medium of interpretation. he was an attentive observer however of every action, and steadily compared their conduct with their pretensions. by the newspapers we learned the demise of our revered and lamented sovereign george iii and the proclamation of george iv. we concealed this intelligence from the indians lest the death of their great father might lead them to suppose that we should be unable to fulfil our promises to them. the indians who had left fort providence with belanger arrived the day after him and, amongst other intelligence, informed akaitcho of some reports they had heard to our disadvantage. they stated that mr. weeks, the gentleman in charge of fort providence, had told them that, so far from our being what we represented ourselves to be, the officers of a great king, we were merely a set of dependent wretches whose only aim was to obtain subsistence for a season in the plentiful country of the copper indians, that out of charity we had been supplied with a portion of goods by the trading companies, but that there was not the smallest probability of our being able to reward the indians when their term of service was completed. akaitcho, with great good sense, instantly came to have the matter explained, stating at the same time that he could not credit it. i then pointed out to him that mr. wentzel, with whom they had long been accustomed to trade, had pledged the credit of his company for the stipulated rewards to the party that accompanied us, and that the trading debts due by akaitcho and his party had already been remitted, which was of itself a sufficient proof of our influence with the north-west company. i also reminded akaitcho that our having caused the esquimaux to be brought up at a great expense was evidence of our future intentions, and informed him that i should write to mr. smith, the senior trader in the department, on the subject when i had no doubt that a satisfactory explanation would be given. the indians retired from the conference apparently satisfied, but this business was in the end productive of much inconvenience to us, and proved very detrimental to the progress of the expedition. in conjunction also with other intelligence conveyed in mr. back's letters respecting the disposition of the traders towards us, particularly a statement of mr. weeks that he had been desired not to assist us with supplies from his post, it was productive of much present uneasiness to me. on the 28th st. germain the interpreter set out with eight canadian voyagers and four indian hunters to bring up our stores from fort providence. i wrote by him to mr. smith at moose-deer island and mr. keith at chipewyan, both of the north-west company, urging them in the strongest manner to comply with the requisition for stores which mr. back would present. i also informed mr. simpson, principal agent in the athabasca for the hudson's bay company who had proffered every assistance in his power, that we should gladly avail ourselves of the kind intentions expressed in a letter which i had received from him. we also sent a number of broken axes to slave lake to be repaired. the dog that came to us on the 22nd of october and had become very familiar followed the party. we were in hopes that it might prove of some use in dragging their loads but we afterwards learned that on the evening after their departure from the house they had the cruelty to kill and eat it although they had no reason to apprehend a scarcity of provision. a dog is considered to be delicate eating by the voyagers. the mean temperature of the air for november was minus 0.7 degrees. the greatest heat observed was 25 degrees above and the least 31 degrees below zero. on the 1st of december the sky was clear, a slight appearance of stratus only being visible near the horizon, but a kind of snow fell at intervals in the forenoon, its particles so minute as to be observed only in the sunshine. towards noon the snow became more apparent and the two limbs of a prismatic arch were visible, one on each side of the sun near its place in the heavens, the centre being deficient. we have frequently observed this descent of minute icy spiculae when the sky appears perfectly clear, and could even perceive that its silent but continued action added to the snowy covering of the ground. having received one hundred balls from fort providence by belanger we distributed them amongst the indians, informing the leader at the same time that the residence of so large a party as his at the house, amounting with women and children to forty souls, was producing a serious reduction in our stock of provision. he acknowledged the justice of the statement and promised to remove as soon as his party had prepared snowshoes and sledges for themselves. under one pretext or other however their departure was delayed until the 10th of the month when they left us, having previously received one of our fishing-nets and all the ammunition we possessed. the leader left his aged mother and two female attendants to our care, requesting that if she died during his absence she might be buried at a distance from the fort that he might not be reminded of his loss when he visited us. keskarrah the guide also remained behind with his wife and daughter. the old man has become too feeble to hunt and his time is almost entirely occupied in attendance upon his wife who has been long affected with an ulcer on the face which has nearly destroyed her nose. lately he made an offering to the water spirits whose wrath he apprehended to be the cause of her malady. it consisted of a knife, a piece of tobacco, and some other trifling articles which were tied up in a small bundle and committed to the rapid with a long prayer. he does not trust entirely however to the relenting of the spirits for his wife's cure, but comes daily to dr. richardson for medicine. upon one occasion he received the medicine from the doctor with such formality and wrapped it up in his reindeer robe with such extraordinary carefulness that it excited the involuntary laughter of mr. hood and myself. the old man smiled in his turn and, as he always seemed proud of the familiar way in which we were accustomed to joke with him, we thought no more upon the subject. but he unfortunately mentioned the circumstance to his wife who imagined in consequence that the drug was not productive of its usual good effects and they immediately came to the conclusion that some bad medicine had been intentionally given to them. the distress produced by this idea was in proportion to their former faith in the potency of the remedy and the night was spent in singing and groaning. next morning the whole family were crying in concert and it was not until the evening of the second day that we succeeded in pacifying them. the old woman began to feel better and her faith in the medicine was renewed. while speaking of this family i may remark that the daughter, whom we designated green-stockings from her dress, is considered by her tribe to be a great beauty. mr. hood drew an accurate portrait of her although her mother was averse to her sitting for it. she was afraid she said that her daughter's likeness would induce the great chief who resided in england to send for the original. the young lady however was undeterred by any such fear. she has already been an object of contest between her countrymen and, although under sixteen years of age, has belonged successively to two husbands and would probably have been the wife of many more if her mother had not required her services as a nurse. the weather during this month was the coldest we experienced during our residence in america. the thermometer sank on one occasion to 57 degrees below zero and never rose beyond 6 degrees above it; the mean for the month was minus 29.7 degrees. during these intense colds however the atmosphere was generally calm and the woodcutters and others went about their ordinary occupations without using any extraordinary precautions yet without feeling any bad effects. they had their reindeer shirts on, leathern mittens lined with blankets, and furred caps; but none of them used any defence for the face, or needed any. indeed we have already mentioned that the heat is abstracted most rapidly from the body during strong breezes and most of those who have perished from cold in this country have fallen a sacrifice to their being overtaken on a lake or other unsheltered place by a storm of wind. the intense colds were however detrimental to us in another way. the trees froze to their very centres and became as hard as stones and more difficult to cut. some of the axes were broken daily and by the end of the month we had only one left that was fit for felling trees. by entrusting it only to one of the party who had been bred a carpenter and who could use it with dexterity it was fortunately preserved until the arrival of our men with others from fort providence. a thermometer hung in our bedroom at the distance of sixteen feet from the fire but exposed to its direct radiation stood even in the daytime occasionally at 15 degrees below zero, and was observed more than once previous to the kindling of the fire in the morning to be as low as 40 degrees below zero. on two of these occasions the chronometers 2149 and 2151 which during the night lay under mr. hood's and dr. richardson's pillows stopped while they were dressing themselves. the rapid at the commencement of the river remained open in the severest weather although it was somewhat contracted in width. its temperature was 32 degrees, as was the surface of the river opposite the house about a quarter of a mile lower down tried at a hole in the ice through which water was drawn for domestic purposes. the river here was two fathoms and a half deep and the temperature at its bottom was at least 42 degrees above zero. this fact was ascertained by a spirit thermometer in which, probably from some irregularity in the tube, a small portion of the coloured liquid usually remained at 42 degrees when the column was made to descend rapidly. in the present instance, the thermometer standing at 47 degrees below zero with no portion of the fluid in the upper part of the tube, was let down slowly into the water but drawn cautiously and rapidly up again, when a red drop at plus 42 degrees indicated that the fluid had risen to that point or above it. at this period the daily visits of the sun were very short and, owing to the obliquity of his rays, afforded us little warmth or light. it is half-past eleven before he peeps over a small ridge of hills opposite to the house, and he sinks in the horizon at half-past two. on the 28th mr. hood, in order to attain an approximation to the quantity of terrestrial refraction, observed the sun's meridian altitude when the thermometer stood at 46 degrees below zero, at the imminent hazard of having his fingers frozen. he found the sextant had changed its error considerably, and that the glasses had lost their parallelism from the contraction of the brass. in measuring the error he perceived that the diameter of the sun's image was considerably short of twice the semi-diameter, a proof of the uncertainty of celestial observations made during these intense frosts. the results of this and another similar observation are given in the footnote.* (*footnote. the observed meridian altitude of sun upper limb was 2 degrees 52 minutes 51 seconds. temperature of the air minus 45.5 degrees. by comparing this altitude, corrected by the mean refraction and parallax with that deduced from the latitude which was observed in autumn, the increase of refraction is found to be 6 minutes 50 seconds, the whole refraction therefore for the altitude 2 degrees 52 minutes 51 seconds is 21 minutes 49 seconds. admitting that the refraction increases in the same ratio as that of the atmosphere at a mean state of temperature the horizontal refraction will be 47 degrees 22 seconds. but the diameter of the sun, measured immediately after the observation, was only 27 minutes 7 seconds, which shows an increase of refraction at the lower limb of 3 minutes 29 seconds. the horizontal refraction calculated with this difference and the above-mentioned ratio is 56 minutes 3 seconds at the temperature minus 45.5 degrees. so that in the parallel 68 degrees 42 minutes where, if there is no refraction, the sun would be invisible for thirty-four days, his upper limb with the refraction 56 minutes 3 seconds is in fact above the horizon at every noon. the wind was from the westward a moderate breeze and the air perfectly clear. january 1st, 1821. observed meridian altitude of sun lower limb 2 degrees 35 minutes 20 seconds, sun apparent diameter 29 degrees 20 minutes. for apparent altitude 2 degrees 35 minutes 20 seconds the mean refraction is 16 minutes 5 seconds (mackay's tables) and the true, found as detailed above, is 20 minutes 8 seconds which, increasing in the same ratio as that of the atmosphere at a mean state of temperature, is 41 minutes 19 seconds at the horizon. but the difference of refraction at the upper and lower limbs increasing also in that ratio gives 55 minutes 16 seconds for the horizontal refraction. temperature of the air minus 41 degrees. wind north, a light breeze, a large halo visible about the sun. january 15th, 1821. observed an apparent meridian altitude sun lower limb 4 degrees 24 minutes 57 seconds. sun apparent diameter 31 minutes 5 seconds. for apparent altitude 4 degrees 24 minutes 57 seconds the mean refraction is 10 minutes 58 seconds (mackay's tables) and the true, found as detailed above, is 14 minutes 39 seconds which, increasing in the same ratio as that of the atmosphere at a mean state of temperature, is 43 minutes 57 seconds at the horizon. but the difference of refraction between the upper and lower limbs increasing also in that ratio gives 48 minutes 30 seconds for the horizontal refraction. temperature of the air minus 35 degrees, a light air from the westward, very clear. the extreme coldness of the weather rendered these operations difficult and dangerous; yet i think the observations may be depended upon within 30 seconds, as will appear by their approximate results in calculating the horizontal refraction, for it must be considered that an error of 30 seconds in the refraction in altitude would make a difference of several minutes in the horizontal refraction. mr. hood's journal.) the aurora borealis appeared with more or less brilliancy on twenty-eight nights of this month and we were also gratified by the resplendent beauty of the moon which for many days together performed its circle round the heavens, shining with undiminished lustre and scarcely disappearing below the horizon during the twenty-four hours. during many nights there was a halo round the moon although the stars shone brightly and the atmosphere appeared otherwise clear. the same phenomenon was observed round the candles even in our bedrooms, the diameter of the halo increasing as the observer receded from the light. these halos, both round the moon and candles, occasionally exhibited faintly some of the prismatic colours. as it may be interesting to the reader to know how we passed our time at this season of the year i shall mention briefly that a considerable portion of it was occupied in writing up our journals. some newspapers and magazines that we had received from england with our letters were read again and again and commented upon at our meals; and we often exercised ourselves with conjecturing the changes that might take place in the world before we could hear from it again. the probability of our receiving letters and the period of their arrival were calculated to a nicety. we occasionally paid the woodmen a visit or took a walk for a mile or two on the river. in the evenings we joined the men in the hall and took part in their games which generally continued to a late hour; in short we never found the time to hang heavy upon our hands; and the peculiar occupations of each of the officers afforded them more employment than might at first be supposed. i recalculated the observations made on our route; mr. hood protracted the charts, and made those drawings of birds, plants and fishes, which cannot appear in this work but which have been the admiration of everyone who has seen them. each of the party sedulously and separately recorded their observations on the aurora borealis; and dr. richardson contrived to obtain from under the snow specimens of most of the lichens in the neighbourhood, and to make himself acquainted with the mineralogy of the surrounding country. the sabbath was always a day of rest with us; the woodmen were required to provide for the exigencies of that day on saturday and the party were dressed in their best attire. divine service was regularly performed and the canadians attended and behaved with great decorum although they were all roman catholics and but little acquainted with the language in which the prayers were read. i regretted much that we had not a french prayer-book but the lord's prayer and creed were always read to them in their own language. our diet consisted almost entirely of reindeer meat, varied twice a week by fish and occasionally by a little flour, but we had no vegetables of any description. on the sunday mornings we drank a cup of chocolate but our greatest luxury was tea (without sugar) of which we regularly partook twice a day. with reindeer's fat and strips of cotton shirts we formed candles; and hepburn acquired considerable skill in the manufacture of soap from the wood-ashes, fat and salt. the formation of soap was considered as rather a mysterious operation by our canadians and in their hands was always supposed to fail if a woman approached the kettle in which the ley was boiling. such are our simple domestic details. on the 30th two hunters came from the leader to convey ammunition to him as soon as our men should bring it from fort providence. the men at this time coated the walls of the house on the outside with a thin mixture of clay and water which formed a crust of ice that for some days proved impervious to the air; the dryness of the atmosphere however was such that the ice in a short time evaporated and gave admission to the wind as before. it is a general custom at the forts to give this sort of coating to the walls at christmas time. when it was gone we attempted to remedy its defect by heaping up snow against the walls. january 1, 1821. this morning our men assembled and greeted us with the customary salutation on the commencement of the new year. that they might enjoy a holiday they had yesterday collected double the usual quantity of firewood and we anxiously expected the return of the men from fort providence with some additions to their comforts. we had stronger hope of their arrival before the evening as we knew that every voyager uses his utmost endeavour to reach a post upon or previous to the jour de l'an that he may partake of the wonted festivities. it forms, as christmas is said to have done among our forefathers, the theme of their conversation for months before and after the period of its arrival. on the present occasion we could only treat them with a little flour and fat; these were both considered as great luxuries but still the feast was defective from the want of rum although we promised them a little when it should arrive. the early part of january proved mild, the thermometer rose to 20 degrees above zero, and we were surprised by the appearance of a kind of damp fog approaching very nearly to rain. the indians expressed their astonishment at this circumstance and declared the present to be one of the warmest winters they had ever experienced. some of them reported that it had actually rained in the woody parts of the country. in the latter part of the month however the thermometer again descended to minus 49 degrees and the mean temperature for the month proved to be minus 15.6 degrees. owing to the fogs that obscured the sky the aurora borealis was visible only upon eighteen nights in the month. on the 15th seven of our men arrived from fort providence with two kegs of rum, one barrel of powder, sixty pounds of ball, two rolls of tobacco and some clothing. they had been twenty-one days on their march from slave lake and the labour they underwent was sufficiently evinced by their sledge-collars having worn out the shoulders of their coats. their loads weighed from sixty to ninety pounds each, exclusive of their bedding and provisions which at starting must have been at least as much more. we were much rejoiced at their arrival and proceeded forthwith to pierce the spirit cask and issue to each of the household the portion of rum which had been promised on the first day of the year. the spirits which were proof were frozen but, after standing at the fire for some time, they flowed out with the consistency of honey. the temperature of the liquid even in this state was so low as instantly to convert into ice the moisture which condensed on the surface of the dram-glass. the fingers also adhered to the glass and would doubtless have been speedily frozen had they been kept in contact with it; yet each of the voyagers swallowed his dram without experiencing the slightest inconvenience or complaining of toothache. after the men had retired an indian who had accompanied them from fort providence informed me that they had broached the cask on their way up and spent two days in drinking. this instance of breach of trust was excessively distressing to me; i felt for their privations and fatigues and was disposed to seize every opportunity of alleviating them but this, combined with many instances of petty dishonesty with regard to meat, showed how little confidence could be put in a canadian voyager when food or spirits were in question. we had been indeed made acquainted with their character on these points by the traders; but we thought that when they saw their officers living under equal if not greater privations than themselves they would have been prompted by some degree of generous feeling to abstain from those depredations which under ordinary circumstances they would scarcely have blushed to be detected in. as they were pretty well aware that such a circumstance could not long be concealed from us one of them came the next morning with an artful apology for their conduct. he stated that as they knew it was my intention to treat them with a dram on the commencement of the new year they had helped themselves to a small quantity on that day, trusting to my goodness for forgiveness and, being unwilling to act harshly at this period, i did forgive them after admonishing them to be very circumspect in their future conduct. the ammunition and a small present of rum were sent to akaitcho. on the 18th vaillant the woodman had the misfortune to break his axe. this would have been a serious evil a few weeks sooner but we had just received some others from slave lake. on the 27th mr. wentzel and st. germain arrived with the two esquimaux, attannoeuck and hoeootoerock (the belly and the ear). the english names which were bestowed upon them at fort churchill in commemoration of the months of their arrival there are augustus and junius. the former speaks english. we now learned that mr. back proceeded with beauparlant to fort chipewyan on the 24th of december to procure stores, having previously discharged j. belleau from our service at his own request and according to my directions. i was the more induced to comply with this man's desire of leaving us as he proved to be too weak to perform the duty of bowman which he had undertaken. four dogs were brought up by this party and proved a great relief to our wood-haulers during the remainder of the season. by the arrival of mr. wentzel who is an excellent musician and assisted us (con amore) in our attempts to amuse the men we were enabled to gratify the whole establishment with an occasional dance. of this amusement the voyagers were very fond and not the less so as it was now and then accompanied by a dram as long as our rum lasted. on the 5th of february two canadians came from akaitcho for fresh supplies of ammunition. we were mortified to learn that he had received some further unpleasant reports concerning us from fort providence and that his faith in our good intentions was somewhat shaken. he expressed himself dissatisfied with the quantity of ammunition we had sent him, accused us of an intention of endeavouring to degrade him in the eyes of his tribe, and informed us that mr. weeks had refused to pay some notes for trifling quantities of goods and ammunition that had been given to the hunters who accompanied our men to slave lake. some powder and shot and a keg of diluted spirits were sent to him with the strongest assurances of our regard. on the 12th another party of six men was sent to fort providence to bring up the remaining stores. st. germain went to akaitcho for the purpose of sending two of his hunters to join this party on its route. on comparing the language of our two esquimaux with a copy of st. john's gospel printed for the use of the moravian missionary settlements on the labrador coast it appeared that the esquimaux who resort to churchill speak a language essentially the same with those who frequent the labrador coast. the red knives too recognise the expression teyma, used by the esquimaux when they acost strangers in a friendly manner, as similarly pronounced by augustus and those of his race who frequent the mouth of the copper-mine river. the tribe to which augustus belongs resides generally a little to the northward of churchill. in the spring before the ice quits the shores they kill seal but during winter they frequent the borders of the large lakes near the coast where they obtain fish, reindeer, and musk-oxen. there are eighty-four grown men in the tribe only seven of whom are aged. six chiefs have each two wives; the rest of the men have only one; so that the number of married people may amount to one hundred and seventy. he could give me no certain data whereby i might estimate the number of children. two great chiefs or ackhaiyoot have complete authority in directing the movements of the party and in distributing provisions. the attoogawnoeuck or lesser chiefs are respected principally as senior men. the tribe seldom suffers from want of food if the chief moves to the different stations at the proper season. they seem to follow the eastern custom respecting marriage. as soon as a girl is born the young lad who wishes to have her for a wife goes to her father's tent and proffers himself. if accepted a promise is given which is considered binding and the girl is delivered to her betrothed husband at the proper age. they consider their progenitors to have come from the moon. augustus has no other idea of a deity than some confused notions which he has obtained at churchill. when any of the tribe are dangerously ill a conjurer is sent for and the bearer of the message carries a suitable present to induce his attendance. upon his arrival he encloses himself in the tent with the sick man and sings over him for days together without tasting food; but augustus as well as the rest of the uninitiated are ignorant of the purport of his songs and of the nature of the being to whom they are addressed. the conjurors practise a good deal of jugglery in swallowing knives, firing bullets through their bodies, etc., but they are at these times generally secluded from view and the bystanders believe their assertions without requiring to be eye-witnesses of the fact. sixteen men and three women amongst augustus' tribe are acquainted with the mysteries of the art. the skill of the latter is exerted only on their own sex. upon the map being spread before augustus he soon comprehended it and recognised chesterfield inlet to be the opening into which salt-waters enter at spring tides and which receives a river at its upper end. he termed it kannoeuck kleenoeuck. he has never been farther north himself than marble island, which he distinguishes as being the spot where the large ships were wrecked, alluding to the disastrous termination of barlow and knight's voyage of discovery.* he says however that esquimaux of three different tribes have traded with his countrymen and that they described themselves as having come across land from a northern sea. one tribe who named themselves ahwhacknanhelett he supposes may come from repulse bay; another designated ootkooseekkalingmoeoot or stone-kettle esquimaux reside more to the westward; and the third the kangorrmoeoot or white goose esquimaux describe themselves as coming from a great distance and mentioned that a party of indians had killed several of their tribe in the summer preceding their visit. upon comparing the dates of this murder with that of the last massacre which the copper indians have perpetrated on these harmless and defenceless people they appear to differ two years; but the lapse of time is so inaccurately recorded that this difference in their accounts is not sufficient to destroy their identity; besides, the chipewyans, the only other indians who could possibly have committed the deed, have long since ceased to go to war. if this massacre should be the one mentioned by the copper indians the kangorrmoeoot must reside near the mouth of the anatessy, or river of strangers. (footnote. see introduction to hearne's journey page 24.) the winter habitations of esquimaux who visit churchill are built of snow and, judging from one constructed by augustus today, they are very comfortable dwellings. having selected a spot on the river where the snow was about two feet deep and sufficiently compact he commenced by tracing out a circle twelve feet in diameter. the snow in the interior of the circle was next divided with a broad knife having a long handle into slabs three feet long, six inches thick, and two feet deep, being the thickness of the layer of snow. these slabs were tenacious enough to admit of being moved about without breaking or even losing the sharpness of their angles and they had a slight degree of curvature corresponding with that of the circle from which they were cut. they were piled upon each other exactly like courses of hewn stone around the circle which was traced out and care was taken to smooth the beds of the different courses with the knife, and to cut them so as to give the wall a slight inclination inwards, by which contrivance the building acquired the properties of a dome. the dome was closed somewhat suddenly and flatly by cutting the upper slabs in a wedge-form instead of the more rectangular shape of those below. the roof was about eight feet high, and the last aperture was shut up by a small conical piece. the whole was built from within and each slab was cut so that it retained its position without requiring support until another was placed beside it, the lightness of the slabs greatly facilitating the operation. when the building was covered in a little loose snow was thrown over it to close up every chink and a low door was cut through the walls with a knife. a bed-place was next formed and neatly faced up with slabs of snow, which was then covered with a thin layer of pine branches to prevent them from melting by the heat of the body. at each end of the bed a pillar of snow was erected to place a lamp upon, and lastly a porch was built before the door and a piece of clear ice was placed in an aperture cut in the wall for a window. the purity of the material of which the house was framed, the elegance of its construction, and the translucency of its walls which transmitted a very pleasant light, gave it an appearance far superior to a marble building and one might survey it with feelings somewhat akin to those produced by the contemplation of a grecian temple reared by phidias; both are triumphs of art, inimitable in their kinds. annexed there is a plan of a complete esquimaux snow-house and kitchen and other apartments copied from a sketch made by augustus with the names of the different places affixed. the only fireplace is in the kitchen, the heat of the lamps sufficing to keep the other apartments warm. (not included in this ebook.) references to the plan. a. ablokeyt, steps. b. pahloeuk, porch. c. wadl-leek, passage. d. haddnoeweek, for the reception of the sweepings of the house. e. g. tokheuook, antechamber, or passage. f. annarroeartoweek. h. eegah, cooking-house. i. eegah-natkah, passage. k. keidgewack, for piling wood upon. l. keek kloweyt, cooking side. m. keek loot, fireplace built of stone. n. eegloo, house. o. kattack, door. p. nattoeuck, clear space in the apartment. a. d. eekput, a kind of shelf where the candle stands; and b. c. a pit where they throw their bones and other offal of their provision. q. eegl-luck, bed-place. r. eegleeteoet, bedside or sitting-place. s. bed-place, as on the other side. t. kie'gn-nok, small pantry. u. hoergloack, storehouse for provisions. ... several deer were killed near the house and we received some supplies from akaitcho. parties were also employed in bringing in the meat that was placed en cache in the early part of the winter. more than one half of these caches however had been destroyed by the wolves and wolverines, a circumstance which, in conjunction with the empty state of our storehouse, led us to fear that we should be much straitened for provisions before the arrival of any considerable number of reindeer in this neighbourhood. a good many ptarmigan were seen at this time and the women caught some in snares, but not in sufficient quantity to make any further alteration in the rations of deers' meat that were daily issued. they had already been reduced from eight to the short allowance of five pounds. many wolves prowled nightly about the house and even ventured upon the roof of the kitchen, which is a low building, in search of food; keskarrah shot a very large white one, of which a beautiful and correct drawing was made by mr. hood. the temperature in february was considerably lower than in the preceding month although not so low as in december, the mean being minus 25.3 degrees. the greatest temperature was 1 degree above zero and the lowest 51 degrees below. on the 5th of march the people returned from slave lake bringing the remainder of our stores consisting of a cask of flour, thirty-six pounds of sugar, a roll of tobacco, and forty pounds of powder. i received a letter from mr. weeks wherein he denied that he had ever circulated any reports to our disadvantage, and stated that he had done everything in his power to assist us, and even discouraged akaitcho from leaving us when he had sent him a message saying that he wished to do so if he was sure of being well received at fort providence. we mentioned the contents of the letter to the indians who were at the house at the time, when one of the hunters, who had attended the men on their journey, stated that he had heard many of the reports against us from mr. weeks himself and expressed his surprise that he should venture to deny them. st. germain soon afterwards arrived from akaitcho and informed us that he left him in good humour and apparently not harbouring the slightest idea of quitting us. on the 12th we sent four men to fort providence, and on the 17th mr. back arrived from fort chipewyan, having performed since he left us a journey of more than one thousand miles on foot. i had every reason to be much pleased with his conduct on this arduous undertaking, but his exertions may be best estimated by the perusal of the following narrative. mr. back's narrative of his journey to chipewyan, and return. on quitting fort enterprise with mr. wentzel and two canadians, accompanied by two hunters and their wives, our route lay across the barren hills. we saw during the day a number of deer and occasionally a solitary white wolf, and in the evening halted near a small knot of pines. owing to the slow progress made by the wives of the hunters we only travelled the first day a distance of seven miles and a half. during the night we had a glimpse of the fantastic beauties of the aurora borealis and were somewhat annoyed by the wolves whose nightly howling interrupted our repose. early the next morning we continued our march, sometimes crossing small lakes (which were just frozen enough to bear us) and at other times going large circuits in order to avoid those which were open. the walking was extremely bad throughout the day for, independent of the general unevenness of the ground and the numberless large stones which lay scattered in every direction, the unusual warmth of the weather had dissolved the snow which not only kept us constantly wet but deprived us of a firm footing, so that the men with their heavy burdens were in momentary apprehension of falling. in the afternoon a fine herd of deer was descried and the indians, who are always anxious for the chase and can hardly be restrained from pursuing every animal they see, set out immediately. it was late when they returned, having had good success and bringing with them five tongues and the shoulder of a deer. we made about twelve miles this day. the night was fine and the aurora borealis so vivid that we imagined more than once that we heard a rustling noise like that of autumnal leaves stirred by the wind; but after two hours of attentive listening we were not entirely convinced of the fact. the coruscations were not so bright nor the transition from one shape and colour to another so rapid as they sometimes are, otherwise i have no doubt from the midnight silence which prevailed that we should have ascertained this yet undecided point. the morning of the 20th was so extremely hazy that we could not see ten yards before us; it was therefore late when we started and during our journey the hunters complained of the weather and feared they should lose the track of our route. towards the evening it became so thick that we could not proceed, consequently we halted in a small wood situated in a valley, having only completed a distance of six miles. the scenery consisted of high hills which were almost destitute of trees, and lakes appeared in the valleys. the cracking of the ice was so loud during the night as to resemble thunder and the wolves howled around us. we were now at the commencement of the woods and at an early hour on the 21st continued our journey over high hills for three miles, when the appearance of some deer caused us to halt and nearly the remainder of the day was passed in hunting them. in the evening we stopped within sight of prospect hill having killed and concealed six deer. a considerable quantity of snow fell during the night. the surrounding country was extremely rugged, the hills divided by deep ravines and the valleys covered with broken masses of rocks and stones; yet the deer fly (as it were) over these impediments with apparent ease, seldom making a false step, and springing from crag to crag with all the confidence of the mountain goat. after passing reindeer lake (where the ice was so thin as to bend at every step for nine miles) we halted, perfectly satisfied with our escape from sinking into the water. while some of the party were forming the encampment one of the hunters killed a deer, a part of which was concealed to be ready for use on our return. this evening we halted in a wood near the canoe track after having travelled a distance of nine miles. the wind was south-east and the night cloudy with wind and rain. on the 24th and 25th we underwent some fatigue from being obliged to go round the lakes which lay across our route and were not sufficiently frozen to bear us. several rivulets appeared to empty themselves into the lakes, no animals were killed and few tracks seen. the scenery consisted of barren rocks and high hills covered with lofty pine, birch, and larch trees. october 26. we continued our journey, sometimes on frozen lakes and at other times on high craggy rocks. when we were on the lakes we were much impeded in our journey by different parts which were unfrozen. there was a visible increase of wood, consisting of birch and larch, as we inclined to the southward. about ten a.m. we passed icy portage where we saw various tracks of the moose, bear and otter and, after a most harassing march through thick woods and over fallen trees, we halted a mile to the westward of fishing lake; our provisions were now almost expended; the weather was cloudy with snow. on the 27th we crossed two lakes and performed a circuitous route, frequently crossing high hills to avoid those lakes which were not frozen; during the day one of the women made a hole through the ice and caught a fine pike which she gave to us; the indians would not partake of it from the idea (as we afterwards learnt) that we should not have sufficient for ourselves: "we are accustomed to starvation," said they, "but you are not." in the evening we halted near rocky lake. i accompanied one of the indians to the summit of a hill where he showed me a dark horizontal cloud extending to a considerable distance along the mountains in the perspective, which he said was occasioned by the great slave lake and was considered as a good guide to all the hunters in the vicinity. on our return we saw two untenanted bears' dens. the night was cloudy with heavy snow, yet the following morning we continued our tedious march; many of the lakes remained still open and the rocks were high and covered with snow which continued to fall all day, consequently we effected but a trifling distance and that too with much difficulty. in the evening we halted, having only performed about seven miles. one of the indians gave us a fish which he had caught though he had nothing for himself; and it was with much trouble that he could be prevailed upon to partake of it. the night was again cloudy with snow. on the 29th we set out through deep snow and thick woods and after crossing two small lakes stopped to breakfast, sending the women on before as they had already complained of lameness and could not keep pace with the party. it was not long before we overtook them on the banks of a small lake which, though infinitely less in magnitude than many we had passed, yet had not a particle of ice on its surface. it was shoal, had no visible current, and was surrounded by hills. we had nothing to eat and were not very near an establishment where food could be procured; however as we proceeded the lakes were frozen and we quickened our pace, stopping but twice for the hunters to smoke. nevertheless the distance we completed was but trifling, and at night we halted near a lake, the men being tired and much bruised from constantly falling amongst thick broken wood and loose stones concealed under the snow. the night was blowing and hazy with snow. on the 30th we set out with the expectation of gaining the slave lake in the evening; but our progress was again impeded by the same causes as before so that the whole day was spent in forcing our way through thick woods and over snow-covered swamps. we had to walk over pointed and loose rocks which, sliding from under our feet, made our path dangerous and often threw us down several feet on sharp-edged stones lying beneath the snow. once we had to climb a towering and almost perpendicular rock which not only detained us but was the cause of great anxiety for the safety of the women who, being heavily laden with furs and one of them with a child at her back, could not exert themselves with the activity which such a task required. fortunately nothing serious occurred though one of them once fell with considerable violence. during the day one of the hunters broke through the ice but was soon extricated; when it became dark we halted near the bow string portage, greatly disappointed at not having reached the lake. the weather was cloudy, accompanied with thick mist and snow. the indians expected to have found here a bear in its den and to have made a hearty meal of its flesh, indeed it had been the subject of conversation all day and they had even gone so far as to divide it, frequently asking me what part i preferred, but when we came to the spot--oh! lamentable! it had already fallen a prey to the devouring appetites of some more fortunate hunters who had only left sufficient evidence that such a thing had once existed, and we had merely the consolation of realising an old proverb. one of our men however caught a fish which, with the assistance of some weed scraped from the rocks (tripe de roche) which forms a glutinous substance, made us a tolerable supper; it was not of the most choice kind yet good enough for hungry men. while we were eating it i perceived one of the women busily employed scraping an old skin, the contents of which her husband presented us with. they consisted of pounded meat, fat, and a greater proportion of indians' and deers' hair than either; and though such a mixture may not appear very alluring to an english stomach it was thought a great luxury after three days' privation in these cheerless regions of america. indeed had it not been for the precaution and generosity of the indians we must have gone without sustenance until we reached the fort. on the 1st of november our men began to make a raft to enable us to cross a river which was not even frozen at the edges. it was soon finished and three of us embarked, being seated up to the ankles in water. we each took a pine branch for a paddle and made an effort to gain the opposite shore in which, after some time (and not without strong apprehensions of drifting into the slave lake) we succeeded. in two hours the whole party was over, with a comfortable addition to it in the shape of some fine fish which the indians had caught: of course we did not forget to take these friends with us and, after passing several lakes, to one of which we saw no termination, we halted within eight miles to the fort. the great slave lake was not frozen. in crossing a narrow branch of the lake i fell through the ice but received no injury; and at noon we arrived at fort providence and were received by mr. weeks, a clerk of the north-west company in charge of the establishment. i found several packets of letters for the officers, which i was desirous of sending to them immediately but, as the indians and their wives complained of illness and inability to return without rest, a flagon of mixed spirits was given them and their sorrows were soon forgotten. in a quarter of an hour they pronounced themselves excellent hunters and capable of going anywhere; however their boasting ceased with the last drop of the bottle when a crying scene took place which would have continued half the night had not the magic of an additional quantity of spirits dried their tears and once more turned their mourning into joy. it was a satisfaction to me to behold these poor creatures enjoying themselves for they had behaved in the most exemplary and active manner towards the party, and with a generosity and sympathy seldom found even in the more civilised parts of the world, and the attention and affection which they manifested towards their wives evinced a benevolence of disposition and goodness of nature which could not fail to secure the approbation of the most indifferent observer. the accounts i here received of our goods were of so unsatisfactory a nature that i determined to proceed, as soon as the lake was frozen, to moose-deer island or if necessary to the athabasca lake, both to inform myself of the grounds of the unceremonious and negligent manner in which the expedition had been treated and to obtain a sufficient supply of ammunition and other stores to enable it to leave its present situation and proceed for the attainment of its ultimate object. november 9. i despatched to fort enterprise one of the men with the letters and a hundred musket-balls which mr. weeks lent me on condition that they should be returned the first opportunity. an indian and his wife accompanied the messenger. lieutenant franklin was made acquainted with the exact state of things, and i awaited with much impatience the freezing of the lake. november 16. a band of slave indians came to the fort with a few furs and some bear's grease. though we had not seen any of them it appeared that they had received information of our being in the country and knew the precise situation of our house, which they would have visited long ago but from the fear of being pillaged by the copper indians. i questioned the chief about the great bear and marten lakes, their distance from fort enterprise, etc., but his answers were so vague and unsatisfactory that they were not worth attention; his description of bouleau's route (which he said was the shortest and best and abundant in animals) was very defective though the relative points were sufficiently characteristic had we not possessed a better route. he had never been at the sea and knew nothing about the mouth of the copper-mine river. in the evening he made his young men dance and sometimes accompanied them himself. they had four feathers in each hand. one commenced moving in a circular form, lifting both feet at the same time, similar to jumping sideways. after a short time a second and third joined and afterwards the whole band was dancing, some in a state of nudity, others half dressed, singing an unmusical wild air with (i suppose) appropriate words, the particular sounds of which were ha! ha! ha! uttered vociferously and with great distortion of countenance and peculiar attitude of body, the feathers being always kept in a tremulous motion. the ensuing day i made the chief acquainted with the object of our mission and recommended him to keep at peace with his neighbouring tribes and to conduct himself with attention and friendship towards the whites. i then gave him a medal, telling him it was the picture of the king whom they emphatically term their great father. november 18. we observed two mock moons at equal distances from the central one, and the whole were encircled by a halo, the colour of the inner edge of the large circle was a light red inclining to a faint purple. november 20. two parhelia were observable with a halo; the colours of the inner edge of the circle were a bright carmine and red lake intermingled with a rich yellow, forming a purplish orange; the outer edge was pale gamboge. december 5. a man was sent some distance on the lake to see if it was sufficiently frozen for us to cross. i need scarcely mention my satisfaction when he returned with the pleasing information that it was. december 7. i quitted fort providence, being accompanied by mr. wentzel, beauparlant, and two other canadians, provided with dogs and sledges. we proceeded along the borders of the lake, occasionally crossing deep bays, and at dusk encamped at the gros cap, having proceeded twenty-five miles. december 8. we set out on the lake with an excessively cold north-west wind and were frequently interrupted by large pieces of ice which had been thrown up by the violence of the waves during the progress of congelation, and at dusk we encamped on the reindeer islands. the night was fine with a faint aurora borealis. next day the wind was so keen that the men proposed conveying me in a sledge that i might be the less exposed, to which after some hesitation i consented. accordingly a reindeer skin and a blanket were laid along the sledge and in these i was wrapped tight up to the chin and lashed to the vehicle, just leaving sufficient play for my head to perceive when i was about to be upset on some rough projecting piece of ice. thus equipped we set off before the wind (a favourable circumstance on the lake) and went on very well until noon, when the ice, being driven up in ridges in such a manner as to obstruct us very much, i was released, and i confess not unwillingly though i had to walk the remainder of the day. there are large openings in many parts where the ice had separated and, in attempting to cross one of them, the dogs fell into the water and were saved with difficulty. the poor animals suffered dreadfully from the cold and narrowly escaped being frozen to death. we had quickened our pace towards the close of the day but could not get sight of the land, and it was not till the sun had set that we perceived it about four miles to our left, which obliged us to turn back and head the wind. it was then so cold that two of the party were frozen almost immediately about the face and ears. i escaped from having the good fortune to possess a pair of gloves made of rabbits' skin with which i kept constantly chafing the places which began to be affected. at six p.m. we arrived at the fishing-huts near stony island and remained the night there. the canadians were not a little surprised at seeing us whom they had already given up for lost--nor less so at the manner by which we had come--for they all affirmed that the lake near them was quite free from ice the day before. december 10. at an early hour we quitted the huts, lashed on sledges as before, with some little addition to our party; and at three hours thirty minutes p.m. arrived at the north-west fort on moose-deer island where i was received by mr. smith with whom i had been acquainted at the athabasca. he said he partly expected me. the same evening i visited messrs. mcvicar and mcaulay at hudson's bay fort when i found the reports concerning our goods were but too true, there being in reality but five packages for us. i also was informed that two esquimaux, augustus the chief, and junius his servant, who had been sent from fort churchill by governor williams to serve in the capacity of interpreters to the expedition, were at the fort. these men were short of stature but muscular, apparently good-natured, and perfectly acquainted with the purpose for which they were intended. they had built themselves a snow-house on an adjacent island where they used frequently to sleep. the following day i examined the pieces and to my great disappointment found them to consist of three kegs of spirits, already adulterated by the voyagers who had brought them, a keg of flour and thirty-five pounds of sugar, instead of sixty. the ammunition and tobacco, the two greatest requisites, were left behind. i lost no time in making a demand from both parties and, though their united list did not furnish the half of what was required, yet it is possible that everything was given by them which could be spared consistently with their separate interests, particularly by mr. mcvicar who in many articles gave me the whole he had in his possession. these things were sent away immediately for fort enterprise, when an interpreter arrived with letters from lieutenant franklin which referred to a series of injurious reports said to have been propagated against us by someone at fort providence. finding a sufficiency of goods could not be provided at moose-deer island i determined to proceed to the athabasca lake and ascertain the inclinations of the gentlemen there. with this view i communicated my intentions to both parties but could only get dogs enough from the north-west company to carry the necessary provisions for the journey. indeed mr. smith informed me plainly he was of opinion that nothing could be spared at fort chipewyan, that goods had never been transported so long a journey in the winter season, and that the same dogs could not possibly go and return; besides it was very doubtful if i could be provided with dogs there; and finally that the distance was great and could take sixteen days to perform it. he added that the provisions would be mouldy and bad and that from having to walk constantly on snowshoes i should suffer a great deal of misery and fatigue. notwithstanding these assertions on the 23rd of december i left the fort with beauparlant and a bois-brule, each having a sledge drawn by dogs, laden with pemmican. we crossed an arm of the lake and entered the little buffalo river which is connected with the salt river and is about fifty yards wide at its junction with the lake--the water is brackish. this route is usually taken in the winter as it cuts off a large angle in going to the great slave river. in the afternoon we passed two empty fishing-huts and in the evening encamped amongst some high pines on the banks of the river having had several snow-showers during the day which considerably impeded the dogs so that we had not proceeded more than fifteen miles. december 24 and 25. we continued along the river, frequently making small portages to avoid going round to the points, and passed some small canoes which the indians had left for the winter. the snow was so deep that the dogs were obliged to stop every ten minutes to rest; and the cold so excessive that both the men were badly frozen on both sides of the face and chin. at length, having come to a long meadow which the dogs could not cross that night, we halted in an adjoining wood and were presently joined by a canadian who was on his return to the fort and who treated us with some fresh meat in exchange for pemmican. during the latter part of the day we had seen numerous tracks of the moose, buffalo, and marten. december 26. the weather was so cold that we were compelled to run to prevent ourselves from freezing; our route lay across some large meadows which appeared to abound in animals, though the indians around slave lake are in a state of great want. about noon we passed a sulphur-stream which ran into the river; it appeared to come from a plain about fifty yards distant. there were no rocks near it and the soil through which it took its course was composed of a reddish clay. i was much galled by the strings of the snowshoes during the day and once got a severe fall occasioned by the dogs running over one of my feet and, dragging me some distance, my snowshoe having become entangled with the sledge. in the evening we lost our way from the great similarity of appearance in the country and it was dark before we found it again when we halted in a thick wood after having come about sixteen miles from the last encampment. much snow fell during the night. at an early hour on the 27th of december we continued our journey over the surface of a long but narrow lake and then through a wood which brought us to the grand detour on the slave river. the weather was extremely cloudy with occasional falls of snow which tended greatly to impede our progress from its gathering in lumps between the dogs' toes; and though they did not go very fast yet my left knee pained me so much that i found it difficult to keep up with them. at three p.m. we halted within nine miles of the salt river and made a hearty meal of mouldy pemmican. december 28 and 29. we had much difficulty in proceeding owing to the poor dogs being quite worn out and their feet perfectly raw. we endeavoured to tie shoes on them to afford them some little relief but they continually came off when amongst deep snow so that it occupied one person entirely to look after them. in this state they were hardly of any use among the steep ascents of the portages, when we were obliged to drag the sledges ourselves. we found a few of the rapids entirely frozen. those that were not had holes and large spaces about them from whence issued a thick vapour, and in passing this we found it particularly cold; but what appeared most curious was the number of small fountains which rose through the ice and often rendered it doubtful which way we should take. i was much disappointed at finding several falls (which i had intended to sketch) frozen almost even with the upper and lower parts of the stream; the ice was connected by a thin arch and the rushing of the water underneath might be heard at a considerable distance. on the banks of these rapids there was a constant overflowing of the water but in such small quantities as to freeze before it had reached the surface of the central ice so that we passed between two ridges of icicles, the transparency of which was beautifully contrasted by the flakes of snow and the dark green branches of the overhanging pine. beauparlant complained bitterly of the cold whilst among the rapids but no sooner had he reached the upper part of the river than he found the change of the temperature so great that he vented his indignation against the heat. "mais c'est terrible," said he, to be frozen and sunburnt in the same day. the poor fellow, who had been a long time in the country, regarded it as the most severe punishment that could have been inflicted on him and would willingly have given a part of his wages rather than this disgrace had happened; for there is a pride amongst old voyagers which makes them consider the state of being frost-bitten as effeminate and only excusable in a pork-eater or one newly come into the country. i was greatly fatigued and suffered acute pains in the knees and legs, both of which were much swollen when we halted a little above the dog river. december 30 and 31. our journey these days was by far the most annoying we had yet experienced but, independent of the vast masses of ice that were piled on one another, as well as the numerous open places about the rapids (and they did not a little impede us) there was a strong gale from the north-west and so dreadfully keen that our time was occupied in rubbing the frozen parts of the face and in attempting to warm the hands in order to be prepared for the next operation. scarcely was one place cured by constant friction than another was frozen; and though there was nothing pleasant about it yet it was laughable enough to observe the dexterity which was used in changing the position of the hand from the face to the mitten and vice versa. one of the men was severely affected, the whole side of his face being nearly raw. towards sunset i suffered so much in my knee and ankle from a recent sprain that it was with difficulty i could proceed with snowshoes to the encampment on the stony islands. but in this point i was not singular for beauparlant was almost as bad and without the same cause. january 1, 1821. we set out with a quick step, the wind still blowing fresh from the north-west, which seemed in some measure to invigorate the dogs; for towards sunset they left me considerably behind. indeed my legs and ankles were now so swelled that it was excessive pain to drag the snowshoes after me. at night we halted on the banks of stony river, when i gave the men a glass of grog to commemorate the new year, and the next day, january 2, we arrived at fort chipewyan, after a journey of ten days and four hours--the shortest time in which the distance had been performed at the same season. i found messrs. g. keith and s. mcgillivray in charge of the fort, who were not a little surprised to see me. the commencement of the new year is the rejoicing season of the canadians when they are generally intoxicated for some days. i postponed making any demand till this time of festivity should cease; but on the same day i went over to the hudson's bay fort and delivered lieutenant franklin's letters to mr. simpson. if they were astonished on one side to see me, the amazement was still greater on the other for reports were so far in advance that we were said to have already fallen by the spears of the esquimaux. january 3. i made a demand from both parties for supplies such as ammunition, gun-flints, axes, files, clothing, tobacco and spirits. i stated to them our extreme necessity and that without their assistance the expedition must be arrested in its progress. the answer from the north-west gentlemen was satisfactory enough; but on the hudson's bay side i was told that any further assistance this season entirely depended on the arrival of supplies expected in a few weeks from a distant establishment. i remained at fort chipewyan five weeks during which time some laden sledges did arrive, but i could not obtain any addition to the few articles i had procured at first. a packet of letters for us from england having arrived i made preparations for my return, but not before i had requested both companies to send next year from the depots a quantity of goods for our use specified in lists furnished to them. the weather during my abode at chipewyan was generally mild with occasional heavy storms, most of which were anticipated by the activity of the aurora borealis; and this i observed had been the case between fort providence and the athabasca in december and january, though not invariably so in other parts of the country. one of the partners of the north-west company related to me the following singular story: he was travelling in a canoe in the english river and had landed near the kettle fall when the coruscations of the aurora borealis were so vivid and low that the canadians fell on their faces and began praying and crying, fearing they should be killed; he himself threw away his gun and knife that they might not attract the flashes for they were within two feet from the earth, flitting along with incredible swiftness and moving parallel to its surface. they continued for upwards of five minutes as near as he could judge and made a loud rustling noise like the waving of a flag in a strong breeze. after they had ceased the sky became clear with little wind. february 9. having got everything arranged and had a hearty breakfast with a coupe de l'eau de vie (a custom amongst the traders) i took my departure or rather attempted to do so for, on going to the gate, there was a long range of women who came to bid me farewell. they were all dressed (after the manner of the country) in blue or green cloth, with their hair fresh greased, separated before, and falling down behind, not in careless tresses but in a good sound tail, fastened with black tape or riband. this was considered a great compliment and the ceremony consisted in embracing the whole party. i had with me four sledges laden with goods for the expedition and a fifth belonging to the hudson's bay company. we returned exactly by the same route, suffering no other inconvenience but that arising from the chafing of the snowshoe and bad weather. some indians whom we met on the banks of the little buffalo river were rather surprised at seeing us, for they had heard that we were on an island which was surrounded by esquimaux. the dogs were almost worn out and their feet raw when on february the 20th we arrived at moose-deer island with our goods all in good order. towards the end of the month two of our men arrived with letters from lieutenant franklin containing some fresh demands, the major part of which i was fortunate enough to procure without the least trouble. having arranged the accounts and receipts between the companies and the expedition, and sent everything before me to fort providence, i prepared for my departure; and it is but justice to the gentlemen of both parties at moose-deer island to remark that they afforded the means of forwarding our stores in the most cheerful and pleasant manner. march 5. i took leave of the gentlemen at the forts and in the afternoon got to the fisheries near stony island where i found mr. mcvicar who was kind enough to have a house ready for my reception; and i was not a little gratified at perceiving a pleasant-looking girl employed in roasting a fine joint and afterwards arranging the table with all the dexterity of an accomplished servant. march 6. we set out at daylight and breakfasted at the reindeer islands. as the day advanced the heat became so oppressive that each pulled off his coat and ran till sunset when we halted with two men who were on their return to moose-deer island. there was a beautiful aurora borealis in the night; it rose about north by west and divided into three bars, diverging at equal distances as far as the zenith and then converging until they met in the opposite horizon; there were some flashes at rightangles to the bars. march 7. we arrived at fort providence and found our stores safe and in good order. there being no certainty when the indian who was to accompany me to our house would arrive, and my impatience to join my companions increasing as i approached it, after making the necessary arrangements with mr. weeks respecting our stores, on march the 10th i quitted the fort with two of our men who had each a couple of dogs and a sledge laden with provision. on the 13th we met the indian near icy portage who was sent to guide me back. on the 14th we killed a deer and gave the dogs a good feed; and on the 17th at an early hour we arrived at fort enterprise, having travelled about eighteen miles a day. i had the pleasure of meeting my friends all in good health after an absence of nearly five months, during which time i had travelled one thousand one hundred and four miles on snowshoes, and had no other covering at night in the woods than a blanket and deer-skin with the thermometer frequently at minus 40 degrees and once at minus 57 degrees, and sometimes passing two or three days without tasting food. ... chapter 9. continuation of proceedings at fort enterprise. some account of the copper indians. preparations for the journey to the northward. continuation of proceedings at fort enterprise. some account of the copper indians. march 18, 1821. i shall now give a brief account of the copper indians termed by the chipewyans tantsawhotdinneh, or birch-rind indians. they were originally a tribe of the chipewyans and, according to their own account, inhabited the south side of great slave lake at no very distant period. their language, traditions, and customs, are essentially the same with those of the chipewyans but in personal character they have greatly the advantage of that people, owing probably to local causes or perhaps to their procuring their food more easily and in greater abundance. they hold women in the same low estimation as the chipewyans do, looking upon them as a kind of property which the stronger may take from the weaker whenever there is just reason for quarrelling, if the parties are of their own nation, or whenever they meet if the weaker party are dog-ribs or other strangers. they suffer however the kinder affections to show themselves occasionally; they in general live happily with their wives, the women are contented with their lot, and we witnessed several instances of strong attachment. of their kindness to strangers we are fully qualified to speak; their love of property, attention to their interests, and fears for the future made them occasionally clamorous and unsteady; but their delicate and humane attention to us in a season of great distress at a future period are indelibly engraven on our memories. of their notions of a deity or future state we never could obtain any satisfactory account; they were unwilling perhaps to expose their opinions to the chance of ridicule. akaitcho generally evaded our questions on these points but expressed a desire to learn from us and regularly attended divine service during his residence at the fort, behaving with the utmost decorum. this leader indeed and many others of his tribe possess a laudable curiosity which might easily be directed to the most important ends; and i believe that a well-conducted christian mission to this quarter would not fail of producing the happiest effect. old keskarrah alone used boldly to express his disbelief of a supreme deity and state that he could not credit the existence of a being whose power was said to extend everywhere but whom he had not yet seen, although he was now an old man. the aged sceptic is not a little conceited as the following exordium to one of his speeches evinces: "it is very strange that i never meet with anyone who is equal in sense to myself." the same old man in one of his communicative moods related to us the following tradition: the earth had been formed but continued enveloped in total darkness, when a bear and a squirrel met on the shores of a lake; a dispute arose as to their respective powers, which they agreed to settle by running in opposite directions round the lake, and whichever arrived first at the starting point was to evince his superiority by some signal act of power. the squirrel beat, ran up a tree, and loudly demanded light which, instantly beaming forth, discovered a bird dispelling the gloom with its wings; the bird was afterwards recognised to be a crow. the squirrel next broke a piece of bark from the tree, endowed it with the power of floating, and said, "behold the material which shall afford the future inhabitants of the earth the means of traversing the waters." the indians are not the first people who have ascribed the origin of nautics to the ingenuity of the squirrel. the copper indians consider the bear, otter, and other animals of prey, or rather some kind of spirits which assume the forms of these creatures, as their constant enemies and the cause of every misfortune they endure; and in seasons of difficulty or sickness they alternately deprecate and abuse them. few of this nation have more than one wife at a time and none but the leaders have more than two. akaitcho has three and the mother of his only son is the favourite. they frequently marry two sisters and there is no prohibition to the intermarriage of cousins but a man is restricted from marrying his niece. the last war excursion they made against the esquimaux was ten years ago when they destroyed about thirty persons at the mouth of what they term stony-point river, not far from the mouth of the copper-mine river. they now seem desirous of being on friendly terms with that persecuted nation and hope through our means to establish a lucrative commerce with them. indeed the copper indians are sensible of the advantages that would accrue to them were they made the carriers of goods between the traders and esquimaux. at the time of hearne's visit the copper indians, being unsupplied with firearms, were oppressed by the chipewyans; but even that traveller had occasion to praise their kindness of heart. since they have received arms from the traders the chipewyans are fearful of venturing upon their lands; and all of that nation who frequent the shores of great slave lake hold the name of akaitcho in great respect. the chipewyans have no leader of equal authority among themselves. the number of the copper indians may be one hundred and ninety souls namely eighty men and boys and one hundred and ten women and young children. there are forty-five hunters in the tribe. the adherents of akaitcho amount to about forty men and boys; the rest follow a number of minor chiefs. for the following notices of the nations on mackenzie's river we are principally indebted to mr. wentzel who resided for many years in that quarter. the thlingchadinneh or dog-ribs or as they are sometimes termed after the crees, who formerly warred against them, slaves, inhabit the country to the westward of the copper indians as far as mackenzie's river. they are of a mild, hospitable, but rather indolent disposition; spend much of their time in amusements and are fond of singing and dancing. in this respect and in another they differ very widely from most of the other aborigines of north america. i allude to their kind treatment of the women. the men do the laborious work whilst their wives employ themselves in ornamenting their dresses with quill-work and in other occupations suited to their sex. mr. wentzel has often known the young married men to bring specimens of their wives' needlework to the forts and exhibit them with much pride. kind treatment of the fair sex being usually considered as an indication of considerable progress in civilisation it might be worthwhile to inquire how it happens that this tribe has stepped so far beyond its neighbours. it has had undoubtedly the same common origin with the chipewyans, for their languages differ only in accent, and their mode of life is essentially the same. we have not sufficient data to prosecute the inquiry with any hope of success but we may recall to the reader's memory what was formerly mentioned, that the dog-ribs say they came from the westward, whilst the chipewyans say that they migrated from the eastward. when bands of dog-ribs meet each other after a long absence they perform a kind of dance. a piece of ground is cleared for the purpose, if in winter of the snow, or if in summer of the bushes; and the dance frequently lasts for two or three days, the parties relieving each other as they get tired. the two bands commence the dance with their backs turned to each other, the individuals following one another in indian file and holding the bow in the left hand and an arrow in the right. they approach obliquely after many turns and, when the two lines are closely back to back, they feign to see each other for the first time and the bow is instantly transferred to the right hand and the arrow to the left, signifying that it is not their intention to employ them against their friends. at a fort they use feathers instead of bows. the dance is accompanied with a song. these people are the dancing-masters of the country. the copper indians have neither dance nor music but what they borrow from them. on our first interview with akaitcho at fort providence he treated us as has already been mentioned with a representation of the dog-rib dance; and mr. back during his winter journey had an opportunity of observing it performed by the dog-ribs themselves. the chief tribe of the dog-rib nation, termed horn mountain indians, inhabit the country betwixt great bear lake and the west end of great slave lake. they muster about two hundred men and boys capable of pursuing the chase. small detachments of the nation frequent marten lake and hunt during the summer in the neighbourhood of fort enterprise. indeed this part of the country was formerly exclusively theirs, and most of the lakes and remarkable hills bear the names which they imposed upon them. as the copper indians generally pillage them of their women and furs when they meet they endeavour to avoid them and visit their ancient quarters on the barren grounds only by stealth. immediately to the northward of the dog-ribs, on the north side of bear lake river, are the kawchodinneh or hare indians who also speak a dialect of the chipewyan language and have much of the same manners with the dog-ribs, but are considered both by them and by the copper indians to be great conjurors. these people report that in their hunting excursions to the northward of great bear lake they meet small parties of esquimaux. immediately to the northward of the hare indians on both banks of mackenzie's river are the tykotheedinneh, loucheux, squint-eyes, or quarrellers. they speak a language distinct from the chipewyan. they war often with the esquimaux at the mouth of mackenzie's river but have occasionally some peaceable intercourse with them, and it would appear that they find no difficulty in understanding each other, there being considerable similarity in their languages. their dress also resembles the esquimaux and differs from that of the other inhabitants of mackenzie's river. the tykotheedinneh trade with fort good-hope, situated a considerable distance below the confluence of bear lake river with mackenzie's river and, as the traders suppose, within three days' march of the arctic sea. it is the most northern establishment of the north-west company, and some small pieces of russian copper coin once made their way thither across the continent from the westward. blue or white beads are almost the only articles of european manufacture coveted by the loucheux. they perforate the septum of the nose and insert in the opening three small shells which they procure at a high price from the esquimaux. on the west bank of mackenzie's river there are several tribes who speak dialects of the chipewyan language that have not hitherto been mentioned. the first met with on tracing the river to the southward from fort good-hope are the ambawtawhootdinneh, or sheep indians. they inhabit the rocky mountains near the sources of the dawhootdinneh river which flows into mackenzie's and are but little known to the traders. some of them have visited fort good-hope. a report of their being cannibals may have originated in an imperfect knowledge of them. some distance to the southward of this people are the rocky mountain indians, a small tribe which musters about forty men and boys capable of pursuing the chase. they differ but little from the next we are about to mention, the edchawtawhootdinneh, strong-bow, beaver, or thickwood indians who frequent the riviere aux liards or south branch of mackenzie's river. the strong-bows resemble the dog-ribs somewhat in their disposition; but when they meet they assume a considerable degree of superiority over the latter who meekly submit to the haughtiness of their neighbours. until the year 1813 when a small party of them, from some unfortunate provocation, destroyed fort nelson on the riviere aux liards and murdered its inmates, the strong-bows were considered to be a friendly and quiet tribe and esteemed as excellent hunters. they take their names in the first instance from their dogs. a young man is the father of a certain dog but when he is married and has a son he styles himself the father of the boy. the women have a habit of reproving the dogs very tenderly when they observe them fighting: "are you not ashamed," say they, "are you not ashamed to quarrel with your little brother?" the dogs appear to understand the reproof and sneak off. the strong-bows and rocky mountain indians have a tradition in common with the dog-ribs that they came originally from the westward, from a level country where there was no winter, which produced trees and large fruits now unknown to them. it was inhabited also by many strange animals, amongst which there was a small one whose visage bore a striking resemblance to the human countenance. during their residence in this land their ancestors were visited by a man who healed the sick, raised the dead, and performed many other miracles, enjoining them at the same time to lead good lives and not to eat of the entrails of animals, nor to use the brains for dressing skins until after the third day; and never to leave the skulls of deer upon the ground within the reach of dogs and wolves but to hang them carefully upon trees. no one knew from whence this good man came or whither he went. they were driven from that land by the rising of the waters and, following the tracks of animals on the seashore, they directed their course to the northward. at length they came to a strait which they crossed upon a raft but the sea has since frozen and they have never been able to return. these traditions are unknown to the chipewyans. the number of men and boys of the strong-bow nation who are capable of hunting may amount to seventy. there are some other tribes who also speak dialects of the chipewyan upon the upper branches of the riviere aux liards such as the nohhannies and the tsillawdawhootdinneh or brushwood indians. they are but little known but the latter are supposed occasionally to visit some of the establishments on peace river. having now communicated as briefly as i could the principal facts that came to our knowledge regarding the indians in this quarter i shall resume the narrative of events at fort enterprise. the month of march proved fine. the thermometer rose once to 24 degrees above zero and fell upon another day 49 degrees below zero but the mean was minus 11 1/2 degrees. on the 23rd the last of our winter's stock of deer's meat was expended and we were compelled to issue a little pounded meat which we had reserved for making pemmican for summer use. our nets which were set under the ice on the 15th produced only two or three small fish daily. amongst these was the round-fish, a species of coregonus which we had not previously seen. on the following day two indians came with a message from the hook, the chief next to akaitcho in authority amongst the copper indians. his band was between west marten and great bear lakes and he offered to provide a quantity of dried meat for us on the banks of the copper-mine river in the beginning of summer, provided we sent him goods and ammunition. it was in his power to do this without inconvenience as he generally spends the summer months on the banks of the river near the copper mountain; but we had no goods to spare and i could not venture to send any part of our small stock of ammunition until i saw what the necessities of our own party required. i told them however that i would gladly receive either provisions or leather when we met and would pay for them by notes on the north-west company's post; but to prevent any misunderstanding with mr. weeks i requested them to take their winter's collection of furs to fort providence before they went to the copper-mine river. they assured me that the hook would watch anxiously for our passing as he was unwell and wished to consult the doctor. several circumstances having come lately to my knowledge that led me to suspect the fidelity of our interpreters they were examined upon this subject. it appeared that in their intercourse with the indians they had contracted very fearful ideas of the danger of our enterprise which augmented as the time of our departure drew near, and had not hesitated to express their dislike to the journey in strong terms amongst the canadians, who are accustomed to pay much deference to the opinions of an interpreter. but this was not all; i had reason to suspect they had endeavoured to damp the exertions of the indians with the hope that the want of provision in the spring would put an end to our progress at once. st. germain in particular had behaved in a very equivocal way since his journey to slave lake. he denied the principal parts of the charge in a very dogged manner but acknowledged he had told the leader that we had not paid him the attention which a chief like him ought to have received; and that we had put a great affront on him in sending him only a small quantity of rum. an artful man like st. germain, possessing a flow of language and capable of saying even what he confessed, had the means of poisoning the minds of the indians without committing himself by any direct assertion; and it is to be remarked that, unless mr. wentzel had possessed a knowledge of the copper indian language, we should not have learned what we did. although perfectly convinced of his baseness i could not dispense with his services; and had no other resource but to give him a serious admonition and desire him to return to his duty, after endeavouring to work upon his fears by an assurance that i would certainly convey him to england for trial if the expedition should be stopped through his fault. he replied, "it is immaterial to me where i lose my life, whether in england or in accompanying you to the sea, for the whole party will perish." after this discussion however he was more circumspect in his conduct. on the 28th we received a small supply of meat from the indian lodges. they had now moved into a lake about twelve miles from us, in expectation of the deer coming soon to the northward. preparations for the journey to the northward. on the 29th akaitcho arrived at the house, having been sent for to make some arrangements respecting the procuring of provision and that we might learn what his sentiments were with regard to accompanying us on our future journey. next morning we had a conference which i commenced by showing him the charts and drawings that were prepared to be sent to england, and explaining fully our future intentions. he appeared much pleased at this mark of attention and, when his curiosity was satisfied, began his speech by saying that although a vast number of idle rumours had been floating about the barren grounds during the winter he was convinced that the representations made to him at fort providence regarding the purport of the expedition were perfectly correct. i next pointed out to him the necessity of our proceeding with as little delay as possible during the short period of the year that was fit for our operations, and that to do so it was requisite we should have a large supply of provisions at starting. he instantly admitted the force of these observations and promised that he and his young men should do their utmost to comply with our desires, and afterwards in answer to my questions informed us that he would accompany the expedition to the mouth of the copper-mine river or, if we did not meet with esquimaux there, for some distance along the coast; he was anxious he said to have an amicable interview with that people, and he further requested that, in the event of our meeting with dog-ribs on the copper-mine river, we should use our influence to persuade them to live on friendly terms with his tribe. we were highly pleased to find his sentiments so favourable to our views and, after making some minor arrangements, we parted mutually content. he left us on the morning of the 31st, accompanied by augustus who, at his request, went to reside for a few days at his lodge. on the 4th of april our men arrived with the last supply of goods from fort providence, the fruits of mr. back's arduous journey to the athabasca lake, and on the 17th belanger le gros and belanger le rouge, for so our men discriminated them, set out for slave lake with a box containing the journals of the officers, charts, drawings, observations, and letters addressed to the secretary of state for colonial affairs. they also conveyed a letter for governor williams in which i requested that he would if possible send a schooner to wager bay with provisions and clothing to meet the exigencies of the party should they succeed in reaching that part of the coast. connoyer, who was much tormented with biliary calculi and had done little or no duty all the winter, was discharged at the same time and sent down in company with an indian named the belly. the commencement of april was fine and for several days a considerable thaw took place in the heat of the sun which, laying bare some of the lichens on the sides of the hills, produced a consequent movement of the reindeer to the northward and induced the indians to believe that the spring was already commencing. many of them therefore quitted the woods and set their snares on the barren grounds near fort enterprise. two or three days of cold weather however towards the middle of the month damped their hopes, and they began to say that another moon must elapse before the arrival of the wished-for season. in the meantime their premature departure from the woods caused them to suffer from want of food and we were in some degree involved in their distress. we received no supplies from the hunters, our nets produced but very few fish, and the pounded meat which we had intended to keep for summer use was nearly expended. our meals at this period were always scanty and we were occasionally restricted to one in the day. the indian families about the house, consisting principally of women and children, suffered most. i had often requested them to move to akaitcho's lodge where they were more certain of receiving supplies but, as most of them were sick or infirm, they did not like to quit the house, where they daily received medicines from dr. richardson, to encounter the fatigue of following the movements of a hunting camp. they cleared away the snow on the site of the autumn encampments to look for bones, deer's feet, bits of hide, and other offal. when we beheld them gnawing the pieces of hide and pounding the bones for the purpose of extracting some nourishment from them by boiling we regretted our inability to relieve them, but little thought that we should ourselves be afterwards driven to the necessity of eagerly collecting these same bones a second time from the dunghill. at this time, to divert the attention of the men from their wants, we encouraged the practice of sliding down the steep bank of the river upon sledges. these vehicles descended the snowy bank with much velocity and ran a great distance upon the ice. the officers joined in the sport and the numerous overturns we experienced formed no small share of the amusement of the party, but on one occasion, when i had been thrown from my seat and almost buried in the snow, a fat indian woman drove her sledge over me and sprained my knee severely. on the 18th at eight in the evening a beautiful halo appeared round the sun when it was about 8 degrees high. the colours were prismatic and very bright, the red next the sun. on the 21st the ice in the river was measured and found to be five feet thick and, in setting the nets in round rock lake, it was there ascertained to be six feet and a half thick, the water being six fathoms deep. the stomachs of some fish were at this time opened by dr. richardson and found filled with insects which appear to exist in abundance under the ice during the winter. on the 22nd a moose-deer was killed at the distance of forty-five miles; st. germain went for it with a dog-sledge and returned with unusual expedition on the morning of the third day. this supply was soon exhausted and we passed the 27th without eating, with the prospect of fasting a day or two longer, when old keskarrah entered with the unexpected intelligence of having killed a deer. it was divided betwixt our own family and the indians and during the night a seasonable supply arrived from akaitcho. augustus returned with the men who brought it, much pleased with the attention he had received from the indians during his visit to akaitcho. next day mr. wentzel set out with every man that we could spare from the fort for the purpose of bringing meat from the indians as fast as it could be procured. dr. richardson followed them two days afterwards to collect specimens of the rocks in that part of the country. on the same day the two belangers arrived from fort providence having been only five days on the march from thence. the highest temperature in april was plus 40 degrees, the lowest minus 32 degrees, the mean plus 4.6 degrees. the temperature of the rapid, examined on the 30th by messrs. back and hood, was 32 degrees at the surface, 33 degrees at the bottom. on the 7th of may dr. richardson returned. he informed me that the reindeer were again advancing to the northward but that the leader had been joined by several families of old people and that the daily consumption of provision at the indian tents was consequently great. this information excited apprehensions of being very scantily provided when the period of our departure should arrive. the weather in the beginning of may was fine and warm. on the 2nd some patches of sandy ground near the house were cleared of snow. on the 7th the sides of the hills began to appear bare and on the 8th a large house-fly was seen. this interesting event spread cheerfulness through our residence and formed a topic of conversation for the rest of the day. on the 9th the approach of spring was still more agreeably confirmed by the appearance of a merganser and two gulls, and some loons or arctic divers, at the rapid. this day to reduce the labour of dragging meat to the house the women and children and all the men except four were sent to live at the indian tents. the blueberries, crow-berries, eye-berries, and cranberries, which had been covered and protected by the snow during the winter might at this time be gathered in abundance and proved indeed a valuable resource. the ground continued frozen but the heat of the sun had a visible effect on vegetation; the sap thawed in the pine-trees and dr. richardson informed me that the mosses were beginning to shoot and the calyptrae of some of the jungermanniae already visible. on the 11th mr. wentzel returned from the indian lodges having made the necessary arrangements with akaitcho for the drying of meat for summer use, the bringing fresh meat to the fort and the procuring a sufficient quantity of the resin of the spruce fir, or as it is termed by the voyagers gum, for repairing the canoes previous to starting and during the voyage. by my desire he had promised payment to the indian women who should bring in any of the latter article and had sent several of our own men to the woods to search for it. at this time i communicated to mr. wentzel the mode in which i meant to conduct the journey of the approaching summer. upon our arrival at the sea i proposed to reduce the party to what would be sufficient to man two canoes in order to lessen the consumption of provisions during our voyage or journey along the coast and, as mr. wentzel had expressed a desire of proceeding no farther than the mouth of the copper-mine river, which was seconded by the indians who wished him to return with them, i readily relieved his anxiety on this subject, the more so as i thought he might render greater service to us by making deposits of provision at certain points than by accompanying us through a country which was unknown to him, and amongst a people with whom he was totally unacquainted. my intentions were explained to him in detail but they were of course to be modified by circumstances. on the 14th a robin (turdus migratorius) appeared; this bird is hailed by the natives as the infallible precursor of warm weather. ducks and geese were also seen in numbers and the reindeer advanced to the northward. the merganser (mergus serrator) which preys upon small fish, was the first of the duck tribe that appeared; next came the teal (anas crecca) which lives upon small insects that abound in the waters at this season; and lastly the goose which feeds upon berries and herbage. geese appear at cumberland house in latitude 54 degrees usually about the 12th of april; at fort chipewyan in latitude 59 degrees on the 25th of april; at slave lake in latitude 61 degrees on the 1st of may; and at fort enterprise in latitude 64 degrees 28 minutes on the 12th or 14th of the same month. on the 16th a minor chief amongst the copper indians attended by his son arrived from fort providence to consult dr. richardson. he was affected with snow-blindness which was soon relieved by the dropping of a little laudanum into his eyes twice a day. most of our own men had been lately troubled with this complaint but it always yielded in twenty or thirty hours to the same remedy. on the 21st all our men returned from the indians and akaitcho was on his way to the fort. in the afternoon two of his young men arrived to announce his visit and to request that he might be received with a salute and other marks of respect that he had been accustomed to on visiting fort providence in the spring. i complied with his desire although i regretted the expenditure of ammunition and sent the young man away with the customary present of powder to enable him to return the salute, some tobacco, vermilion to paint their faces, a comb and a looking-glass. at eleven akaitcho arrived; at the first notice of his appearance the flag was hoisted at the fort and upon his nearer approach a number of muskets were fired by a party of our people and returned by his young men. akaitcho, preceded by his standard-bearer, led the party and advanced with a slow and stately step to the door where mr. wentzel and i received him. the faces of the party were daubed with vermilion, the old men having a spot on the right cheek, the young ones on the left. akaitcho himself was not painted. on entering he sat down on a chest, the rest placed themselves in a circle on the floor. the pipe was passed once or twice round and in the meantime a bowl of spirits and water and a present considerable for our circumstances of cloth, blankets, capots, shirts, etc., was placed on the floor for the chief's acceptance and distribution amongst his people. akaitcho then commenced his speech but i regret to say that it was very discouraging and indicated that he had parted with his good humour, at least since his march visit. he first inquired whether, in the event of a passage by sea being discovered, we should come to his lands in any ship that might be sent? and being answered that it was probable but not quite certain that someone amongst us might come, he expressed a hope that some suitable present should be forwarded to himself and nation, "for" said he, "the great chief who commands where all the goods come from must see from the drawings and descriptions of us and our country that we are a miserable people." i assured him that he would be remembered, provided he faithfully fulfilled his engagement with us. he next complained of the non-payment of my notes by mr. weeks, from which he apprehended that his own reward would be withheld. "if," said he, "your notes to such a trifling amount are not accepted whilst you are within such a short distance and can hold communication with the fort, it is not probable that the large reward which has been promised to myself and party will be paid when you are far distant on your way to your own country. it really appears to me," he continued, "as if both the companies consider your party as a third company, hostile to their interests, and that neither of them will pay the notes you give to the indians." afterwards in the course of a long conference he enumerated many other grounds of dissatisfaction, the principal of which were our want of attention to him as chief, the weakness of the rum formerly sent to him, the smallness of the present now offered, and the want of the chief's clothing, which he had been accustomed to receive at fort providence every spring. he concluded by refusing to receive the goods now laid before him. in reply to these complaints it was stated that mr. weeks' conduct could not be properly discussed at such a distance from his fort, that no dependence ought to be placed on the vague reports that floated through the indian territory, that for our part, although we had heard many stories to his (akaitcho's) disadvantage, we discredited them all, that the rum we had sent him, being what the great men in england were accustomed to drink, was of a milder kind but in fact stronger than what he had been accustomed to receive, and that the distance we had come and the speed with which we travelled precluded us from bringing large quantities of goods like the traders, that this had been fully explained to him when he agreed to accompany us and that, in consideration of his not receiving his usual spring outfit, his debts to the company had been cancelled and a present, much greater than any he had ever received before, ordered to be got ready for his return. he was further informed that we were much disappointed in not receiving any dried meat from him, an article indispensable for our summer voyage and which he had led us to believe there was no difficulty in procuring, and that in fact his complaints were so groundless in comparison with the real injury we sustained from the want of supplies that we were led to believe they were preferred solely for the purpose of cloaking his own want of attention to the terms of his engagement. he then shifted his ground and stated that if we endeavoured to make a voyage along the sea-coast we should inevitably perish, and he advised us strongly against persisting in the attempt. this part of his harangue, being an exact transcript of the sentiments formerly expressed by our interpreters, induced us to conclude that they had prompted his present line of conduct by telling him that we had goods or rum concealed. he afterwards received a portion of our dinner in the manner he had been accustomed to do, and seemed inclined to make up matters with us in the course of the evening, provided we added to the present offered to him. being told however that this was impossible since we had already offered him all the rum we had and every article of goods we could spare from our own equipment his obstinacy was a little shaken, and he made some concessions but deferred giving a final answer until the arrival of humpy his elder brother. the young men however did not choose to wait so long and at night came for the rum, which we judged to be a great step towards a reconciliation. st. germain, the most intelligent of our two interpreters and the one who had most influence with the indians, being informed that their defection was in a great measure attributed to the unguarded conversations he had held with them, and which he had in part acknowledged, exerted himself much on the following day in bringing about a change in their sentiments and with some success. the young men, though they declined hunting, conducted themselves with the same good humour and freedom as formerly. akaitcho being as he said ashamed to show himself kept close in his tent all day. on the 24th one of the women who accompanied us from athabasca was sent down to fort providence under charge of the old chief who came some days before for medicine for his eyes. angelique and roulante, the other two women, having families, preferred accompanying the indians during their summer hunt. on the 25th clothing and other necessary articles were issued to the canadians as their equipment for the ensuing voyage. two or three blankets, some cloth, ironwork, and trinkets were reserved for distribution amongst the esquimaux on the sea-coast. laced dresses were given to augustus and junius. it is impossible to describe the joy that took possession of the latter on the receipt of this present. the happy little fellow burst into ecstatic laughter as he surveyed the different articles of his gay habiliments.* (*footnote. these men kept their dresses and delighted in them. an indian chief on the other hand only appears once before the donor in the dress of ceremony which he receives and then transfers it to some favourite in the tribe whom he desires to reward by this robe of honour.) in the afternoon humpy the leader's elder brother, annoethaiyazzeh, another of his brothers, and one of our guides arrived with the remainder of akaitcho's band; as also long-legs, brother to the hook, with three of his band. there were now in the encampment thirty hunters, thirty-one women, and sixty children, in all one hundred and twenty-one of the copper indian or red-knife tribe. the rest of the nation were with the hook on the lower part of the copper-mine river. annoethaiyazzeh is remarkable amongst the indians for the number of his descendants; he has eighteen children living by two wives, of whom sixteen were at the fort at this time. in the evening we had another formidable conference. the former complaints were reiterated and we parted about midnight without any satisfactory answer to my questions as to when akaitcho would proceed towards the river and where he meant to make provision for our march. i was somewhat pleased however to find that humpy and annoethaiyazzeh censured their brother's conduct and accused him of avarice. on the 26th the canoes were removed from the places where they had been deposited as we judged that the heat of the atmosphere was now so great as to admit of their being repaired without risk of cracking the bark. we were rejoiced to find that two of them had suffered little injury from the frost during the winter. the bark of the third was considerably rent but it was still capable of repair. the indians sat in conference in their tents all the morning and in the afternoon came into the house charged with fresh matter for discussion. soon after they had seated themselves and the room was filled with the customary volume of smoke from their calumets the goods which had been laid aside were again presented to the leader, but he at once refused to distribute so small a quantity amongst his men and complained that there were neither blankets, kettles, nor daggers amongst them, and in the warmth of his anger he charged mr. wentzel with having advised the distribution of all our goods to the canadians and thus defrauding the indians of what was intended for them. mr. wentzel of course immediately repelled this injurious accusation and reminded akaitcho again that he had been told on engaging to accompany us that he was not to expect any goods until his return. this he denied with an effrontery that surprised us all, when humpy, who was present at our first interview at fort providence, declared that he heard us say that no goods could be taken for the supply of the indians on the voyage; and the first guide added, "i do not expect anything here, i have promised to accompany the white people to the sea and i will therefore go, confidently relying upon receiving the stipulated reward on my return." akaitcho did not seem prepared to hear such declarations from his brothers and, instantly changing the subject, began to descant upon the treatment he had received from the traders in his concerns with them with an asperity of language that bore more the appearance of menace than complaint. i immediately refused to discuss this topic as foreign to our present business and desired akaitcho to recall to memory that he had told me on our first meeting that he considered me the father of every person attached to the expedition, in which character it was surely my duty to provide for the comfort and safety of the canadians as well as the indians. the voyagers, he knew, had a long journey to perform and would in all probability be exposed to much suffering from cold on a coast destitute of wood, and therefore required a greater provision of clothing than was necessary for the indians who, by returning immediately from the mouth of the river, would reach fort providence in august and obtain their promised rewards. most of the indians appeared to assent to this argument but akaitcho said, "i perceive the traders have deceived you; you should have brought more goods but i do not blame you." i then told him that i had brought from england only ammunition, tobacco, and spirits and that, being ignorant what other articles the indians required, we were dependent on the traders for supplies, but he must be aware that every endeavour had been used on our parts to procure them, as was evinced by mr. back's journey to fort chipewyan. with respect to the ammunition and tobacco we had been as much disappointed as themselves in not receiving them, but this was to be attributed to the neglect of those to whom they had been entrusted. this explanation seemed to satisfy him. after some minutes of reflection his countenance became more cheerful and he made inquiry whether his party might go to either of the trading posts they chose on their return, and whether the hudson's bay company were rich, for they had been represented to him as a poor people? i answered him that we really knew nothing about the wealth of either company, having never concerned ourselves with trade, but that all the traders appeared to us to be respectable. our thoughts i added are fixed solely on the accomplishment of the objects for which we came to the country. our success depends much on your furnishing us with provision speedily, that we may have all the summer to work and, if we succeed, a ship will soon bring goods in abundance to the mouth of the copper-mine river. the indians talked together for a short time after this conversation and then the leader made an application for two or three kettles and some blankets to be added to the present to his young men; we were unable to spare him any kettles but the officers promised to give a blanket each from their own beds. dinner was now brought in and relieved us for a time from their importunity. the leading men as usual received each a portion from the table. when the conversation was resumed the chief renewed his solicitations for goods, but it was now too palpable to be mistaken that he aimed at getting everything he possibly could and leaving us without the means of making any presents to the esquimaux or other indians we might meet. i resolved therefore on steadily refusing every request and, when he perceived that he could extort nothing more, he rose in an angry manner and, addressing his young men, said: "there are too few goods for me to distribute; those that mean to follow the white people to the sea may take them." this was an incautious speech as it rendered it necessary for his party to display their sentiments. the guides and most of the hunters declared their readiness to go and came forward to receive a portion of the present which was no inconsiderable assortment. this relieved a weight of anxiety from my mind and i did not much regard the leader's retiring in a very dissatisfied mood. the hunters then applied to mr. wentzel for ammunition that they might hunt in the morning and it was cheerfully given to them. the officers and men amused themselves at prison-bars and other canadian games till two o'clock in the morning, and we were happy to observe the indians sitting in groups enjoying the sport. we were desirous of filling up the leisure moments of the canadians with amusements, not only for the purpose of enlivening their spirits but also to prevent them from conversing upon our differences with the indians, which they must have observed. the exercise was also in a peculiar manner serviceable to mr. hood. ever ardent in his pursuits he had, through close attention to his drawings and other avocations, confined himself too much to the house in winter, and his health was impaired by his sedentary habits. i could only take the part of a spectator in these amusements, being still lame from the hurt formerly alluded to. the sun now sank for so short a time below the horizon that there was more light at midnight than we enjoyed on some days at noon in the wintertime. on the 27th the hunters brought in two reindeer. many of the indians attended divine service this day and were attentive spectators of our addresses to the almighty. on the 28th i had a conversation with long-legs whose arrival two days before has been mentioned. i acquainted him with the objects of our expedition and our desire of promoting peace between his nation and the esquimaux, and learned from him that his brother the hook was by this time on the copper-mine river with his party and that, although he had little ammunition, yet it was possible he might have some provision collected before our arrival at his tents. i then decorated him with a medal similar to those given to the other chiefs. he was highly pleased with this mark of our regard and promised to do everything for us in his power. akaitcho came in during the latter part of our conversation with a very cheerful countenance. jealousy of the hook and a knowledge that the sentiments of the young men differed from his own with respect to the recent discussions had combined to produce this change in his conduct, and next morning he took an opportunity of telling me that i must not think the worse of him for his importunities. it was their custom he said to do so however strange it might appear to us, and he as the leader of his party had to beg for them all; but as he saw we had not deceived him by concealing any of our goods and that we really had nothing left he should ask for no more. he then told me that he would set out for the river as soon as the state of the country admitted of travelling. the snow he remarked was still too deep for sledges to the northward and the moss too wet to make fires. he was seconded in this opinion by long-legs whom i was the more inclined to believe knowing that he was anxious to rejoin his family as soon as possible. akaitcho now accepted the dress he had formerly refused and next day clothed himself in another new suit which he had received from us in the autumn. ever since his arrival at the fort he had dressed meanly and pleaded poverty but, perceiving that nothing more could be gained by such conduct, he thought proper to show some of his riches to the strangers who were daily arriving. in the afternoon however he made another though a covert attack upon us. he informed me that two old men had just arrived at the encampment with a little pounded meat which they wished to barter. it was evident his intention was merely to discover whether we had any goods remaining or not. i told him that we had nothing at present to give for meat, however much we stood in need of it, but that we would pay for it by notes on the north-west company in any kind of goods they pleased. after much artful circumlocution and repeated assurances of the necessities of the men who owned the meat he introduced them and they readily agreed to give us the provision on our own terms. i have deemed it my duty to give the details of these tedious conversations to point out to future travellers the art with which these indians pursue their objects, their avaricious nature, and the little reliance that can be placed upon them when their interests jar with their promises. in these respects they agree with other tribes of northern indians but, as has been already mentioned, their dispositions are not cruel and their hearts are readily moved by the cry of distress. the average temperature for may was nearly 32 degrees, the greatest heat was 68 degrees, the lowest 8 degrees. we had constant daylight at the end of the month and geese and ducks were abundant, indeed rather too much so for our hunters were apt to waste upon them the ammunition that was given to them for killing deer. uncertain as to the length of time that it might be required to last we did not deem a goose of equal value with the charge it cost to procure it. dr. richardson and mr. back having visited the country to the northward of the slave rock and reported that they thought we might travel over it i signified my intention of sending the first party off on monday the 4th of june. i was anxious to get the indians to move on before, but they lingered about the house, evidently with the intention of picking up such articles as we might deem unnecessary to take. when akaitcho was made acquainted with my purpose of sending away a party of men he came to inform me that he would appoint two hunters to accompany them and at the same time requested that dr. richardson or, as he called him, the medicine chief, might be sent with his own band. these indians set a great value upon medicine and made many demands upon dr. richardson on the prospect of his departure. he had to make up little packets of the different articles in his chest, not only for the leader but for each of the minor chiefs who carefully placed them in their medicine bags, noting in their memories the directions he gave for their use. the readiness with which their requests for medical assistance were complied with was considered by them as a strong mark of our good intentions towards them and the leader often remarked that they owed much to our kindness in that respect, that formerly numbers had died every year but that not a life had been lost since our arrival amongst them. in the present instance however the leader's request could not be complied with. dr. richardson had volunteered to conduct the first party to the copper-mine river whilst the rest of the officers remained with me to the last moment to complete our astronomical observations at the house. he therefore informed the leader that he would remain stationary at point lake until the arrival of the whole party, where he might be easily consulted if any of his people fell sick as it was in the neighbourhood of their hunting grounds. on the 2nd the stores were packed up in proper-sized bales for the journey. i had intended to send the canoes by the first party but they were not yet repaired, the weather not being sufficiently warm for the men to work constantly at them without the hazard of breaking the bark. this day one of the new trading guns which we had recently received from fort chipewyan burst in the hands of a young indian, fortunately however without doing him any material injury. this was the sixth accident of the kind which had occurred since our departure from slave lake. surely this deficiency in the quality of the guns, which hazards the lives of so many poor indians, requires the serious consideration of the principals of the trading companies. on the 4th at three in the morning the party under the charge of dr. richardson started. it consisted of fifteen voyagers, three of them conducting dog sledges, baldhead and basil, two indian hunters with their wives, akaiyazzeh a sick indian and his wife, together with angelique and roulante, so that the party amounted to twenty-three exclusive of children. the burdens of the men were about eighty pounds each, exclusive of their personal baggage which amounted to nearly as much more. most of them dragged their loads upon sledges but a few preferred carrying them on their backs. they set off in high spirits. after breakfast the indians struck their tents, and the women, the boys, and the old men who had to drag sledges, took their departure. it was three p.m. however before akaitcho and the hunters left us. we issued thirty balls to the leader and twenty to each of the hunters and guides with a proportionate quantity of powder, and gave them directions to make all the provision they could on their way to point lake. i then desired mr. wentzel to inform akaitcho in the presence of the other indians that i wished a deposit of provision to be made at this place previous to next september as a resource should we return this way. he and the guides not only promised to see this done but suggested that it would be more secure if placed in the cellar or in mr. wentzel's room. the dog-ribs, they said, would respect anything that was in the house as knowing it to belong to the white people. at the close of this conversation akaitcho exclaimed with a smile, "i see now that you have really no goods left (the rooms and stores being completely stripped) and therefore i shall not trouble you any more but use my best endeavours to prepare provision for you, and i think if the animals are tolerably numerous we may get plenty before you can embark on the river." whilst the indians were packing up this morning one of the women absconded. she belongs to the dog-rib tribe and had been taken by force from her relations by her present husband who treated her very harshly. the fellow was in my room when his mother announced the departure of his wife and received the intelligence with great composure as well as the seasonable reproof of akaitcho. "you are rightly served," said the chief to him, "and will now have to carry all your things yourself instead of having a wife to drag them." one hunter remained after the departure of the other indians. on the 5th the dog-rib woman presented herself on a hill at some distance from the house, but was afraid to approach us until the interpreter went and told her that neither we nor the indian who remained with us would prevent her from going where she pleased. upon this she came to solicit a fire-steel and kettle. she was at first low-spirited from the non-arrival of a countrywoman who had promised to elope with her, but had probably been too narrowly watched. the indian hunter however, having given her some directions as to the proper mode of joining her own tribe, she became more composed and ultimately agreed to adopt his advice of proceeding at once to fort providence instead of wandering about the country all summer in search of them at the imminent hazard of being starved. on the 7th the wind, shifting to the southward, dispersed the clouds which had obscured the sky for several days and produced a change of temperature under which the snow rapidly disappeared. the thermometer rose to 73 degrees, many flies came forth, mosquitoes showed themselves for the first time, and one swallow made its appearance. we were the more gratified with these indications of summer that st. germain was enabled to commence the repair of the canoes, and before night had completed the two which had received the least injury. augustus killed two deer today. on the 10th the dip of the magnetic needle, being observed, showed a decrease of 22 minutes 44 seconds since last autumn. the repairs of the third canoe were finished this evening. the snow was now confined to the bases of the hills and our indian hunter told us the season was early. the operations of nature however seemed to us very tardy. we were eager to be gone and dreaded the lapse of summer before the indians would allow it had begun. on the 11th the geese and ducks had left the vicinity of fort enterprise and proceeded to the northward. some young ravens and whiskey-johns made their appearance at this time. on the 12th winter river was nearly cleared of ice and on the 13th the men returned, having left dr. richardson on the borders of point lake. dr. richardson informed me by letter that the snow was deeper in many parts near his encampment than it had been at any time last winter near fort enterprise, and that the ice on point lake had scarcely begun to decay. although the voyagers were much fatigued on their arrival, and had eaten nothing for the last twenty-four hours, they were very cheerful and expressed a desire to start with the remainder of the stores next morning. the dog-rib woman, who had lingered about the house since the 6th of june, took alarm at the approach of our men, thinking perhaps that they were accompanied by indians, and ran off. she was now provided with a hatchet, kettle, and fire-steel, and would probably go at once to fort providence in the expectation of meeting with some of her countrymen before the end of summer. chapter 10.* (*footnote. it will be seen hereafter that i had the misfortune to lose my portfolio containing my journals from fort enterprise to the 14th of september. but the loss has been amply redeemed by my brother officers' journals from which the narrative up to that period has been chiefly compiled.) departure from fort enterprise. navigation of the copper-mine river. visit to the copper mountain. interview with the esquimaux. departure of the indian hunters. arrangements made with them for our return. departure from fort enterprise. june 14, 1821. the trains for the canoes having been finished during the night the party attached to them commenced their journey at ten this morning. each canoe was dragged by four men assisted by two dogs. they took the route of winter lake with the intention of following, although more circuitous, the watercourse as far as practicable, it being safer for the canoes than travelling overland. after their departure the remaining stores, the instruments, and our small stock of dried meat, amounting only to eighty pounds, were distributed equally among hepburn, three canadians, and the two esquimaux; with this party and two indian hunters we quitted fort enterprise, most sincerely rejoicing that the long-wished-for day had arrived when we were to proceed towards the final object of the expedition. we left in one of the rooms a box containing a journal of the occurrences up to this date, the charts and some drawings, which was to be conveyed to fort chipewyan by mr. wentzel on his return from the sea and thence to be sent to england. the room was blocked up and, by the advice of mr. wentzel, a drawing representing a man holding a dagger in a threatening attitude was affixed to the door to deter any indians from breaking it open. we directed our course towards the dog-rib rock but, as our companions were loaded with the weight of near one hundred and eighty pounds each, we of necessity proceeded at a slow pace. the day was extremely warm and the mosquitoes, whose attacks had hitherto been feeble, issued forth in swarms from the marshes and were very tormenting. having walked five miles we encamped near a small cluster of pines about two miles from the dog-rib rock. the canoe party had not been seen since they set out. our hunters went forward to marten lake, intending to wait for us at a place where two deer were deposited. at nine p.m. the temperature of the air was 63 degrees. we resumed our march at an early hour and crossed several lakes which lay in our course as the ice enabled the men to drag their burdens on trains formed of sticks and deers' horns with more ease than they could carry them on their backs. we were kept constantly wet by this operation as the ice had broken near the shores of the lakes but this was little regarded as the day was unusually warm, the temperature at two p.m. being at 82 1/2 degrees. at marten lake we joined the canoe party and encamped with them. we had the mortification of learning from our hunters that the meat they had put en cache here had been destroyed by the wolverines, and we had in consequence to furnish the supper from our scanty stock of dried meat. the wind changed from south-east to north-east in the evening and the weather became very cold, the thermometer being at 43 degrees at nine p.m. the few dwarf birches we could collect afforded fire insufficient to keep us warm and we retired under the covering of our blankets as soon as the supper was despatched. the north-east breeze rendered the night so extremely cold that we procured but little sleep, having neither fire nor shelter for, though we carried our tents, we had been forced to leave the tent-poles which we could not now replace; we therefore gladly recommenced the journey at five in the morning and travelled through the remaining part of the lake on the ice. its surface being quite smooth the canoes were dragged along expeditiously by the dogs, and the rest of the party had to walk very quick to keep pace with them, which occasioned many severe falls. by the time we had reached the end of the lake the wind had increased to a perfect gale and the atmosphere was so cold that we could not proceed farther with the canoes without the risk of breaking the bark and seriously injuring them; we therefore crossed winter river in them and put up in a well-sheltered place on a ridge of sandhills but, as the stock of provision was scanty, we determined on proceeding as quick as possible and leaving the canoe party under the charge of mr. wentzel. we parted from them in the afternoon, and first directed our course towards a range of hills where we expected to find antonio fontano, who had separated from us in the morning. in crossing towards these hills i fell through the ice into the lake with my bundle on my shoulders but was soon extricated without any injury, and mr. back, who left us to go in search of the straggler, met with a similar accident in the evening. we put up on a ridge of sandhills where we found some pines, and made a large fire to apprise mr. back and fontano of our position. st. germain having killed a deer in the afternoon we received an acceptable supply of meat. the night was stormy and very cold. at five the next morning our men were sent in different directions after our absent companions, but as the weather was foggy we despaired of finding them unless they should chance to hear the muskets our people were desired to fire. they returned however at ten, bringing intelligence of them. i went immediately with hepburn to join mr. back and directed mr. hood to proceed with the canadians and halt with them at the spot where the hunters had killed a deer. though mr. back was much fatigued he set off with me immediately, and in the evening we rejoined our friends on the borders of the big lake. the indians informed us that fontano only remained a few hours with them and then continued his journey. we had to oppose a violent gale and frequent snowstorms through the day, which unseasonable weather caused the temperature to descend below the freezing-point this evening. the situation of our encampment being bleak, and our fuel stunted green willows, we passed a very cold and uncomfortable night. june 18. though the breeze was moderate this morning the air was piercingly keen. when on the point of starting we perceived mr. wentzel's party coming, and awaited his arrival to learn whether the canoes had received any injury during the severe weather of yesterday. finding they had not we proceeded to get upon the ice on the lake, which could not be effected without walking up to the waist in water for some distance from its borders. we had not the command of our feet in this situation and the men fell often; poor junius broke through the ice with his heavy burden on his back but fortunately was not hurt. this lake is extensive and large arms branch from its main course in different directions. at these parts we crossed the projecting points of land and on each occasion had to wade as before, which so wearied everyone that we rejoiced when we reached its north side and encamped, though our resting-place was a bare rock. we had the happiness of finding fontano at this place. the poor fellow had passed the three preceding days without tasting food and was exhausted by anxiety and hunger. his sufferings were considered to have been a sufficient punishment for his imprudent conduct in separating from us, and i only admonished him to be more cautious in future. having received information that the hunters had killed a deer we sent three men to fetch the meat, which was distributed between our party and the canoe-men who had been encamped near to us. the thermometer at three p.m. was 46 degrees, at nine 34 degrees. we commenced the following day by crossing a lake about four miles in length and then passed over a succession of rugged hills for nearly the same distance. the men, being anxious to reach some pine-trees which they had seen on their former journey, walked at a quick pace though they were suffering from swelled legs and rheumatic pains; we could not however attain the desired point and therefore encamped on the declivity of a hill which sheltered us from the wind, and used the reindeer moss for fuel, which afforded us more warmth than we expected. several patches of snow were yet remaining on the surrounding hills. the thermometer varied today between 55 and 45 degrees. on the 20th of june we began our march by crossing a small lake, not without much risk as the surface of the ice was covered with water to the depth of two feet and there were many holes into which we slipped in spite of our efforts to avoid them. a few of the men, being fearful of attempting the traverse with their heavy loads, walked round the eastern end of the lake. the parties met on the sandy ridge which separates the streams that fall into winter lake from those that flow to the northward; and here we killed three deer. near the base of this ridge we crossed a small but rapid stream in which there is a remarkable cascade of about fifty feet. some indians joined us here and gave information respecting the situation of dr. richardson's tent, which our hunters considered was sufficient for our guidance, and therefore proceeded as quickly as they could. we marched a few miles farther in the evening and encamped among some pines; but the comfort of a good fire did not compensate for the torment we suffered from the host of mosquitoes at this spot. the temperature was 52 degrees. we set off next morning at a very early hour. the men took the course of point lake that they might use their sledges, but the officers pursued the nearest route by land to dr. richardson's tent, which we reached at eleven a.m. it was on the western side of an arm of the lake and near the part through which the copper-mine river runs. our men arrived soon after us and in the evening mr. wentzel and his party, with the canoes in excellent condition. they were much jaded by their fatiguing journey and several were lame from swellings of the lower extremities. the ice on the lake was still six or seven feet thick and there was no appearance of its decay except near the edges and, as it was evident that, by remaining here until it should be removed, we might lose every prospect of success in our undertaking, i determined on dragging our stores along its surface until we should come to a part of the river where we could embark, and directions were given this evening for each man to prepare a train for the conveyance of his portion of the stores. i may remark here, as a proof of the strong effect of radiation from the earth in melting the ice, that the largest holes in the ice were always formed at the base of the high and steep cliffs which abound on the borders of this lake. we found akaitcho and the hunters encamped here but their families and the rest of the tribe had gone off two days before to the bethseeto, a large lake to the northward where they intended passing the summer. long-legs and keskarrah had departed to desire the hook to collect as much meat as he could against our arrival at his lodge. we were extremely distressed to learn from dr. richardson that akaitcho and his party had expended all the ammunition they had received at fort enterprise without having contributed any supply of provision. the doctor had however, through the assistance of two hunters he kept with him, prepared two hundred pounds of dried meat, which was now our sole dependence for the journey. on the following morning i represented to akaitcho that we had been greatly disappointed by his conduct which was so opposite to the promise of exertion he had made on quitting fort enterprise. he offered many excuses but, finding they were not satisfactory, admitted that the greater part of the ammunition had been given to those who accompanied the women to the bethseeto, and promised to behave better in future. i then told him that i intended in future to give them ammunition only in proportion to the meat which was brought in, and that we should commence upon that plan by supplying him with fifteen balls, and each of the hunters with ten. the number of our hunters was now reduced to five as two of the most active declined going any farther, their father, who thought himself dying, having solicited them to remain and close his eyes. these five were furnished with ammunition and sent forward to hunt on the south border of the lake, with directions to place any meat they might procure near the edge of the lake and set up marks to guide us to the spots. akaitcho, his brother, the guide, and three other men remained to accompany us. we were much surprised to perceive an extraordinary difference in climate in so short an advance to the northward as fifty miles. the snow here was lying in large patches on the hills. the dwarf-birch and willows were only just beginning to open their buds which had burst forth at fort enterprise many days before our departure. vegetation seemed to be three weeks or a month later here than at that place. we had heavy showers of rain through the night of the 22nd which melted the snow and visibly wasted the ice. on the 23rd the men were busily employed in making their trains and in pounding the meat for pemmican. the situation of the encampment was ascertained latitude 65 degrees 12 minutes 40 seconds north, longitude 113 degrees 8 minutes 25 seconds west, and the variation 43 degrees 4 minutes 20 seconds east. the arrangements being completed we purposed commencing our journey next morning, but the weather was too stormy to venture upon the lake with the canoes. in the afternoon a heavy fall of snow took place, succeeded by sleet and rain. the north-east gale continued but the thermometer rose to 39 degrees. june 25. the wind having abated in the night we prepared for starting at an early hour. the three canoes were mounted on sledges and nine men were appointed to conduct them, having the assistance of two dogs to each canoe. the stores and provisions were distributed equally among the rest of our men, except a few small articles which the indians carried. the provision consisted of only two bags of pemmican, two of pounded meat, five of suet, and two small bundles of dried provision, together with fresh meat sufficient for our supper at night. it was gratifying to witness the readiness with which the men prepared for and commenced a journey which threatened to be so very laborious, as each of them had to drag upwards of one hundred and eighty pounds on his sledge. our course led down the main channel of the lake, which varied in breadth from half a mile to three miles; but we proceeded at a slow pace as the snow which fell last night and still lay on the ice very much impeded the sledges. many extensive arms branched off on the north side of this channel and it was bounded on the south by a chain of lofty islands. the hills on both sides rose to six or seven hundred feet and high steep cliffs were numerous. clusters of pines were occasionally seen in the valleys. we put up at eight p.m. in a spot which afforded us but a few twigs for fuel. the party was much fatigued and several of the men were affected by an inflammation on the inside of the thigh attended with hardness and swelling. the distance made today was six miles. we started at ten next morning. the day was extremely hot and the men were soon jaded; their lameness increased very much and some not previously affected began to complain. the dogs too showed symptoms of great weakness, and one of them stretched himself obstinately on the ice and was obliged to be released from the harness. we were therefore compelled to encamp at an early hour, having come only four miles. the sufferings of the people in this early stage of our journey were truly discouraging to them and very distressing to us, whose situation was comparatively easy. i therefore determined on leaving the third canoe which had been principally carried to provide against any accident to the others. we should thus gain three men to lighten the loads of those who were most lame, and an additional dog for each of the other canoes. it was accordingly properly secured on a stage erected for the purpose near the encampment. dried meat was issued for supper but in the course of the evening the indians killed two deer for which we immediately sent. the channel of the lake through which we had passed today was bounded on both sides by islands of considerable height, presenting bold and rugged scenery. we were informed by our guide that a large body of the lake lies to the northward of a long island which we passed. another deer was killed next morning but, as the men breakfasted off it before they started, the additional weight was not materially felt. the burdens of the men being considerably lightened by the arrangements of last evening, the party walked at the rate of one mile and three-quarters an hour until the afternoon, when our pace was slackened as the ice was more rough and our lame companions felt their sores very galling. at noon we passed a deep bay on the south side which is said to receive a river. throughout the day's march the hills on each side of the lake bore a strong resemblance in height and form to those about fort enterprise. we encamped on the north main shore among some spruce trees, having walked eight miles and a half. three or four fish were caught with lines through holes which the water had worn in the ice. we perceived a light westerly current at these places. it rained heavily during the night and this was succeeded by a dense fog on the morning of the 28th. being short of provisions we commenced our journey though the points of land were not discernible beyond a short distance. the surface of the ice, being honeycombed by the recent rains, presented innumerable sharp points which tore our shoes and lacerated the feet at every step. the poor dogs too marked their path with their blood. navigation of the copper-mine river. in the evening the atmosphere became clear and at five p.m. we reached the rapid by which point lake communicates with red-rock lake. this rapid is only one hundred yards wide and we were much disappointed at finding the copper-mine river such an inconsiderable stream. the canoes descended the rapid but the cargoes were carried across the peninsula and placed again on the sledges as the next lake was still frozen. we passed an extensive arm branching to the eastward, and encamped just below it on the western bank among spruce pines, having walked six miles of direct distance. the rolled stones on the beach are principally red clay slate, hence its indian appellation which we have retained. we continued our journey at the usual hour next morning. at noon the variation was observed to be 47 degrees east. our attention was afterwards directed to some pine branches scattered on the ice which proved to be marks placed by our hunters to guide us to the spot where they had deposited the carcasses of two small deer. this supply was very seasonable and the men cheerfully dragged the additional weight. akaitcho, judging from the appearance of the meat, thought it had been placed here three days ago and that the hunters were considerably in advance. we put up at six p.m. near the end of the lake, having come twelve miles and three-quarters, and found the channel open by which it is connected with the rock-nest lake. a river was pointed out bearing south from our encampment, which is said to rise near great marten lake. red-rock lake is in general narrow, its shelving banks are well clothed with wood and even the hills, which attain an elevation of four hundred or five hundred feet, are ornamented halfway up with stunted pines. on june 30 the men, having gummed the canoes, embarked with their burdens to descend the river; but we accompanied the indians about five miles across a neck of land, when we also embarked. the river was about two hundred yards wide and, its course being uninterrupted, we cherished a sanguine hope of now getting on more speedily, until we perceived that the waters of rock-nest lake were still bound by ice and that recourse must again be had to the sledges. the ice was much decayed and the party were exposed to great risk of breaking through in making the traverse. in one part we had to cross an open channel in the canoes, and in another were compelled to quit the lake and make a portage along the land. when the party had got upon the ice again our guide evinced much uncertainty as to the route. he first directed us towards the west end of the lake but, when we had nearly gained that point, he discovered a remarkable rock to the north-east, named by the indians the rock-nest, and then recollected that the river ran at its base. our course was immediately changed to that direction, but the traverse we had then to make was more dangerous than the former one. the ice cracked under us at every step and the party were obliged to separate widely to prevent accidents. we landed at the first point we could approach but, having found an open channel close to the shore, were obliged to ferry the goods across on pieces of ice. the fresh meat being expended we had to make another inroad on our pounded meat. the evening was very warm and the mosquitoes numerous. a large fire was made to apprise the hunters of our advance. the scenery of rock-nest lake is picturesque, its shores are rather low except at the rock-nest, and two or three eminences on the eastern side. the only wood is the pine which is twenty or thirty feet high and about one foot in diameter. our distance today was six miles. july 1. our guide directed us to proceed towards a deep bay on the north side of the lake where he supposed we should find the river. in consequence of the bad state of the ice we employed all the different modes of travelling we had previously followed in attaining this place and, in crossing a point of land, had the misfortune to lose one of the dogs, which set off in pursuit of some reindeer. arriving at the bay we only found a stream that fell into it from the north-east and looked in vain for the copper-mine river. this circumstance confused the guide and he confessed that he was now doubtful of the proper route; we therefore halted and despatched him with two men to look for the river from the top of the high hills near the rock-nest. during this delay a slight injury was repaired which one of the canoes had received. we were here amused by the sight of a wolf chasing two reindeer on the ice. the pursuer, being alarmed at the sight of our men, gave up the chase when near to the hindmost, much to our regret for we were calculating upon the chance of sharing in his capture. at four p.m. our men returned with the agreeable information that they had seen the river flowing at the base of the rock-nest. the canoes and stores were immediately placed on the ice and dragged thither; we then embarked but soon had to cut through a barrier of drift ice that blocked up the way. we afterwards descended two strong rapids and encamped near the discharge of a small stream which flows from an adjoining lake. the copper-mine river at this point is about two hundred yards wide and ten feet deep, and flows very rapidly over a rocky bottom. the scenery of its banks is picturesque, the hills shelve to the waterside and are well covered with wood, and the surface of the rocks is richly ornamented with lichens. the indians say that the same kind of country prevails as far as mackenzie's river in this parallel, but that the land to the eastward is perfectly barren. akaitcho and one of the indians killed two deer which were immediately sent for. two of the hunters arrived in the night and we learned that their companions, instead of being in advance as we supposed, were staying at the place where we first found the river open. they had only seen our fires last evening and had sent to examine who we were. the circumstance of having passed them was very vexatious as they had three deer en cache at their encampment. however an indian was sent to desire those who remained to join us and bring the meat. we embarked at nine a.m. on july 2nd and descended a succession of strong rapids for three miles. we were carried along with extraordinary rapidity, shooting over large stones upon which a single stroke would have been destructive to the canoes; and we were also in danger of breaking them, from the want of the long poles which lie along their bottoms and equalise their cargoes, as they plunged very much, and on one occasion the first canoe was almost filled with the waves. but there was no receding after we had once launched into the stream, and our safety depended on the skill and dexterity of the bowmen and steersmen. the banks of the river here are rocky and the scenery beautiful, consisting of gentle elevations and dales wooded to the edge of the stream and flanked on both sides at the distance of three or four miles by a range of round-backed barren hills, upwards of six hundred feet high. at the foot of the rapids the high lands recede to a greater distance and the river flows with a more gentle current in a wider channel through a level and open country consisting of alluvial sand. in one place the passage was blocked up by drift ice still deeply covered with snow. a channel for the canoes was made for some distance with the hatchets and poles but, on reaching the more compact part, we were under the necessity of transporting the canoes and cargoes across it, an operation of much hazard as the snow concealed the numerous holes which the water had made in the ice. this expansion of the river being mistaken by the guide for a lake which he spoke of as the last on our route to the sea, we supposed that we should have no more ice to cross, and therefore encamped after passing through it, to fit the canoes properly for the voyage and to provide poles, which are not only necessary to strengthen them when placed in the bottom, but essentially requisite for the safe management of them in dangerous rapids. the guide began afterwards to doubt whether the lake he meant was not farther on, and he was sent with two men to examine into the fact, who returned in the evening with the information of its being below us but that there was an open channel through it. this day was very sultry and several plants appeared in flower. the men were employed in repairing their canoes to a late hour and commenced very early next morning as we were desirous of availing ourselves of every part of this favourable weather. the hunters arrived in the course of the night. it appeared that the dog which escaped from us two days ago came into the vicinity of their encampment, howling piteously; seeing him without his harness they came to the hasty conclusion that our whole party had perished in a rapid and, throwing away part of their baggage and leaving the meat behind them, they set off with the utmost haste to join long-legs. our messenger met them in their flight but too far advanced to admit of their returning for the meat. akaitcho scolded them heartily for their thoughtlessness in leaving the meat, which we so much wanted. they expressed their regret and, being ashamed of their panic, proposed to remedy the evil as much as possible by going forward without stopping until they came to a favourable spot for hunting, which they expected to do about thirty or forty miles below our present encampment. akaitcho accompanied them but previous to setting off he renewed his charge that we should be on our guard against the bears, which was occasioned by the hunters having fired at one is morning as they were descending a rapid in their canoe. as their small canoes would only carry five persons two of the hunters had to walk in turns along the banks. in our rambles round the encampment we witnessed with pleasure the progress which vegetation had made within the few last warm days; most of the trees had put forth their leaves and several flowers ornamented the moss-covered ground; many of the smaller summer birds were observed in the woods, and a variety of ducks, gulls, and plovers, sported on the banks of the river. it is about three hundred yards wide at this part, is deep and flows over a bed of alluvial sand. we caught some trout of considerable size with our lines, and a few white-fish in the nets, which maintained us with a little assistance from the pemmican. the repair of our canoes was completed this evening. before embarking i issued an order that no rapid should in future be descended until the bowman had examined it and decided upon its being safe to run. wherever the least danger was to be apprehended or the crew had to disembark for the purpose of lightening the canoe, the ammunition, guns, and instruments were always to be put out and carried along the bank, that we might be provided with the means of subsisting ourselves in case of any accident befalling the canoes. the situation of our encampment was ascertained to be 65 degrees 43 minutes 28 seconds north, longitude 114 degrees 26 minutes 45 seconds west, and the variation 42 degrees 17 minutes 22 seconds east. at four in the morning of july 4th we embarked and descended a succession of very agitated rapids, but took the precaution of landing the articles mentioned yesterday wherever there appeared any hazard; notwithstanding all our precautions the leading canoe struck with great force against a stone and the bark was split, but this injury was easily repaired and we regretted only the loss of time. at eleven we came to an expansion of the river where the current ran with less force and an accumulation of drift ice had in consequence barred the channel; over this the canoes and cargoes were carried. the ice in many places adhered to the banks and projected in wide ledges several feet thick over the stream, which had hollowed them out beneath. on one occasion as the people were embarking from one of these ledges it suddenly gave way and three men were precipitated into the water but were rescued without further damage than a sound ducking, and the canoe fortunately (and narrowly) escaped being crushed. perceiving one of the indians sitting on the east bank of the river we landed and, having learned from him that akaitcho and the hunters had gone in pursuit of a herd of musk-oxen, we encamped, having come twenty-four miles and a half. in the afternoon they brought us the agreeable intelligence of having killed eight cows, of which four were full-grown. all the party were immediately despatched to bring in this seasonable supply. a young cow, irritated by the firing of the hunters, ran down to the river and passed close to me when walking at a short distance from the tents. i fired and wounded it, when the animal instantly turned and ran at me, but i avoided its fury by jumping aside and getting upon an elevated piece of ground. in the meantime some people came from the tents and it took to flight. the musk-oxen, like the buffalo, herd together in bands and generally frequent the barren grounds during the summer months, keeping near the rivers, but retire to the woods in winter. they seem to be less watchful than most other wild animals and, when grazing, are not difficult to approach provided the hunters go against the wind; when two or three men get so near a herd as to fire at them from different points these animals, instead of separating or running away, huddle closer together and several are generally killed; but if the wound is not mortal they become enraged and dart in the most furious manner at the hunters, who must be very dextrous to evade them. they can defend themselves by their powerful horns against the wolves and bears which, as the indians say, they not unfrequently kill. the musk-oxen feed on the same substances with the reindeer, and the prints of the feet of these two animals are so much alike that it requires the eye of an experienced hunter to distinguish them. the largest killed by us did not exceed in weight three hundred pounds. the flesh has a musky disagreeable flavour, particularly when the animal is lean which, unfortunately for us, was the case with all that we now killed. during this day's march the river varied in breadth from one hundred to two hundred feet, and except in two open spaces a very strong current marked a deep descent the whole way. it flows over a bed of gravel, of which also its immediate banks are composed. near to our encampment it is bounded by cliffs of fine sand from one hundred to two hundred feet high. sandy plains extend on a level with the summit of these cliffs, and at the distance of six or seven miles are terminated by ranges of hills eight hundred or one thousand feet high. the grass on these plains affords excellent pasturage for the musk-oxen and they generally abound here. the hunters added two more to our stock in the course of the night. as we had now more meat than the party could consume fresh we delayed our voyage next day to dry it. the hunters were supplied with more ammunition and sent forward; but akaitcho, his brother, and another indian remained with us. it may here be proper to mention that the officers had treated akaitcho more distantly since our departure from point lake, to mark their opinion of his misconduct. the diligence in hunting however which he had evinced at this place induced us to receive him more familiarly when he came to the tent this evening. during our conversation he endeavoured to excite suspicions in our minds against the hook by saying, "i am aware that you consider me the worst man of my nation; but i know the hook to be a great rogue and i think he will disappoint you." on the morning of the 6th we embarked and descended a series of rapids, having twice unloaded the canoes where the water was shallow. after passing the mouth of the fairy lake river* the rapids ceased. the main stream was then about three hundred yards wide and generally deep, though in one part the channel was interrupted by several sandy banks and low alluvial islands covered with willows. it flows between banks of sand thinly wooded and as we advanced the barren hills approached the water's edge. (*footnote. this is an indian name. the northern indian fairies are six inches high, lead a life similar to the indians, and are excellent hunters. those who have had the good fortune to fall in with their tiny encampments have been kindly treated and regaled on venison. we did not learn with certainty whether the existence of these delightful creatures is known from indian tradition or whether the indians own their knowledge of them to their intercourse with the traders, but think the former probable.) at ten we rejoined our hunters who had killed a deer and halted to breakfast. we sent them forward; one of them who was walking along the shore afterwards fired upon two brown bears and wounded one of them, which instantly turned and pursued him. his companions in the canoes put ashore to his assistance but did not succeed in killing the bears, which fled upon the reinforcement coming up. during the delay thus occasioned we overtook them and they continued with us the rest of the day. we encamped at the foot of a lofty range of mountains which appear to be from twelve to fifteen hundred feet high; they are in general round-backed but the outline is not even, being interrupted by craggy conical eminences. this is the first ridge of hills we have seen in this country that deserves the appellation of a mountain range; it is probably a continuation of the stony mountains crossed by hearne. many plants appeared in full flower near the tents and dr. richardson gathered some high up on the hills. the distance we made today was fifty miles. there was a hoar frost in the night and the temperature at four next morning was 40 degrees: embarking at that hour we glided quickly down the stream and by seven arrived at the hook's encampment which was placed on the summit of a lofty sand cliff whose base was washed by the river. this chief had with him only three hunters and a few old men and their families, the rest of the band having remained at their snares in bear lake. his brother long-legs and our guide keskarrah, who had joined him three days before, had communicated to him our want of provision, and we were happy to find that, departing from the general practice of indian chiefs, he entered at once upon the business without making a long speech. as an introductory mark of our regard i decorated him with a medal similar to those which had been given to the other leaders. the hook began by stating that he was aware of our being destitute of provision, and of the great need we had of an ample stock to enable us to execute our undertaking, and his regret that the unusual scarcity of animals this season, together with the circumstance of his having only just received a supply of ammunition from fort providence, had prevented him from collecting the quantity of meat he had wished to do for our use. "the amount indeed," he said, "is very small, but i will cheerfully give you what i have: we are too much indebted to the white people to allow them to want food on our lands whilst we have any to give them. our families can live on fish until we can procure more meat, but the season is too short to allow of your delaying to gain subsistence in that manner." he immediately desired aloud that the women should bring all the meat they had to us; and we soon collected sufficient to make three bags and a half of pemmican, besides some dried meat and tongues. we were truly delighted by this prompt and cheerful behaviour and would gladly have rewarded the kindness of himself and his companions by some substantial present, but we were limited by the scantiness of our store to a small donation of fifteen charges of ammunition to each of the chiefs. in return for the provision they accepted notes on the north-west company to be paid at fort providence, and to these was subjoined an order for a few articles of clothing as an additional present. i then endeavoured to prevail upon the hook to remain in this vicinity with his hunters until the autumn, and to make deposits of provision in different parts of the course to the sea as a resource for our party, in the event of our being compelled to return by this route. he required time however to consider this matter, and promised to give me an answer next day. i was rejoiced to find him then prepared to meet my wish and the following plan was agreed upon: as the animals abound at all times on the borders of bear lake he promised to remain on the east side of it until the month of november, at that spot which is nearest to the copper-mine river, from whence there is a communication by a chain of lakes and portages. there the principal deposit of provision was to be made, but during the summer the hunters were to be employed in putting up supplies of dried meat at convenient distances, not only along the communication from this river, but also upon its banks as far down as the copper mountain. they were also to place particular marks to guide our course to their lodges. we contracted to pay them liberally, whether we returned by this way or not; if we did they were to accompany us to fort providence to receive the reward, and at any rate i promised to send the necessary documents by mr. wentzel from the sea-coast to ensure them an ample remuneration. with this arrangement they were perfectly satisfied and we could not be less so, knowing they had every motive for fulfilling their promises, as the place they had chosen to remain at is their usual hunting ground. the uncommon anxiety these chiefs expressed for our safety appeared to us likely to prompt them to every care and attention, and i record their expressions with gratitude. after representing the numerous hardships we should have to encounter in the strongest manner, though in language similar to what we had often heard from our friend akaitcho, they earnestly entreated we would be constantly on our guard against the treachery of the esquimaux, and no less forcibly desired we would not proceed far along the coast, as they dreaded the consequences of our being exposed to a tempestuous sea in canoes, and having to endure the cold of the autumn on a shore destitute of fuel. the hook having been an invalid for several years rejoiced at the opportunity of consulting dr. richardson, who immediately gave him advice and supplied him with medicine. the pounded meat and fat were converted into pemmican preparatory to our voyage. the result of our observations at the hook's encampment was latitude 66 degrees 45 minutes 11 seconds north, longitude 115 degrees 42 minutes 23 seconds west, variation of the compass 46 degrees 7 minutes 30 seconds east. we embarked at eleven to proceed on our journey. akaitcho and his brother the guide being in the first canoe and old keskarrah in the other. we wished to dispense with the further attendance of two guides and made a proposition that either of them might remain here, but neither would relinquish the honour of escorting the expedition to the sea. one of our hunters however was less eager for this distinction and preferred remaining with green-stockings, keskarrah's fascinating daughter. the other four, with the little singer accompanied us, two of them conducting their small canoes in turns and the rest walking along the beach. the river flows over a bed of sand and winds in an uninterrupted channel of from three-quarters to a mile broad between two ranges of hills, which are pretty even in their outline and round-backed, but having rather steep acclivities. the immediate borders of the stream consist either of high banks of sand or steep gravel cliffs and sometimes, where the hills recede to a little distance, the intervening space is occupied by high sandy ridges. at three p.m., after passing along the foot of a high range of hills, we arrived at the portage leading to the bear lake, to which we have previously alluded. its position is very remarkable, being at the most westerly part of the copper-mine river and at the point where it resumes a northern course and forces a passage through the lofty ridge of mountains to which it has run parallel for the last thirty miles. as the indians travel from hence with their families in three days to the point where they have proposed staying for us, the distance i think cannot exceed forty miles and, admitting the course to be due west, which is the direction the guide pointed, it would place the eastern part of bear lake in 118 1/4 degrees west longitude. beyond this spot the river is diminished in breadth and a succession of rapids are formed but, as the water was deep, we passed through them without discharging any part of the cargoes. it still runs between high ranges of mountains, though its actual boundaries are banks of mud mixed with clay which are clothed with stunted pines. we picked up a deer which the hunters had shot and killed another from the canoe, and also received an addition to our stock of provision of seven young geese which the hunters had beaten down with their sticks. about six p.m. we perceived a mark on the shore which on examination was found to have been recently put up by some indians: and on proceeding farther we discerned stronger proofs of their vicinity; we therefore encamped and made a large fire as a signal which they answered in a similar way. mr. wentzel was immediately sent in expectation of getting provision from them. on his return we learned that the party consisted of three old copper indians with their families, who had supported themselves with the bow and arrow since last autumn, not having visited fort providence for more than a year, and so successful had they been that they were enabled to supply us with upwards of seventy pounds of dried meat, and six moose skins fit for making shoes, which were the more valuable as we were apprehensive of being barefooted before the journey could be completed. the evening was sultry and the mosquitoes appeared in great numbers. the distance made today was twenty-five miles. on the following morning we went down to these indians and delivered to them notes on the north-west company for the meat and skins they had furnished, and we had then the mortification of learning that, not having people to carry a considerable quantity of pounded meat which they intended for us, they had left it upon the bear lake portage. they promised however to get it conveyed to the banks of this river before we could return and we rewarded them with a present of knives and files. after reembarking we continued to descend the river which was now contracted between lofty banks to about one hundred and twenty yards wide; the current was very strong. at eleven we came to a rapid which had been the theme of discourse with the indians for many days, and which they had described to us as impassable in canoes. the river here descends for three-quarters of a mile in a deep but narrow and crooked channel which it has cut through the foot of a hill of five hundred or six hundred feet high. it is confined between perpendicular cliffs resembling stone walls, varying in height from eighty to one hundred and fifty feet, on which lies a mass of fine sand. the body of the river pent within this narrow chasm dashed furiously round the projecting rocky columns and discharged itself at the northern extremity in a sheet of foam. the canoes, after being lightened of part of their cargoes, ran through this defile without sustaining any injury. accurate sketches of this interesting scene were taken by messrs. back and hood. soon after passing this rapid we perceived the hunters running up the east side of the river to prevent us from disturbing a herd of musk-oxen which they had observed grazing on the opposite bank; we put them across and they succeeded in killing six, upon which we encamped for the purpose of drying the meat. the country below the rocky defile rapid consists of sandy plains, broken by small conical eminences also of sand, and bounded to the westward by a continuation of the mountain chain which we had crossed at the bear lake portage, and to the eastward and northward at the distance of twelve miles by the copper mountains, which mr. hearne visited. the plains are crowned by several clumps of moderately large spruces about thirty feet high. this evening the indians made a large fire as a signal to the hook's party that we had passed the terrific rapid in safety. the position of our encampment was ascertained to be latitude 67 degrees 1 minute 10 seconds north, longitude 116 degrees 27 minutes 28 seconds west, variation of the compass 44 degrees 11 minutes 43 seconds east, dip of the needle 87 degrees 31 minutes 18 seconds. some thundershowers retarded the drying of the meat and our embarkation was delayed till the next day. the hunters were sent forward to hunt at the copper mountains under the superintendence of adam the interpreter who received strict injunctions not to permit them to make any large fires lest they should alarm straggling parties of the esquimaux. the mosquitoes were now very numerous and annoying but we consoled ourselves with the hope that their season would be short. visit to the copper mountain. on the 11th we started at three a.m. and, as the guide had represented the river below our encampment to be full of shoals, some of the men were directed to walk along the shore, but they were assailed so violently by the mosquitoes as to be compelled to embark very soon; and we afterwards passed over the shallow parts by the aid of the poles without experiencing much interruption. the current ran very rapidly, having been augmented by the waters of the mouse river and several small streams. we rejoined our hunters at the foot of the copper mountains and found they had killed three musk-oxen. this circumstance determined us on encamping to dry the meat as there was wood at the spot. we availed ourselves of this delay to visit the copper mountains in search of specimens of the ore, agreeably to my instructions; and a party of twenty-one persons, consisting of the officers, some of the voyagers, and all the indians, set off on that excursion. we travelled for nine hours over a considerable space of ground but found only a few small pieces of native copper. the range we ascended was on the west side of the river extending west-north-west and east-south-east. the mountains varied in height from twelve to fifteen hundred feet. the uniformity of the mountains is interrupted by narrow valleys traversed by small streams. the best specimens of metal we procured were among the stones in these valleys, and it was in such situations that our guides desired us to search most carefully. it would appear that, when the indians see any sparry substance projecting above the surface, they dig there, but they have no other rule to direct them, and have never found the metal in its original repository. our guides reported that they had found copper in large pieces in every part of this range for two days' walk to the north-west, and that the esquimaux come hither to search for it. the annual visits which the copper indians were accustomed to make to these mountains, when most of their weapons and utensils were made of copper, have been discontinued since they have been enabled to obtain a supply of ice chisels and other instruments of iron by the establishment of trading posts near their hunting grounds. that none of those who accompanied us had visited them for many years was evident from their ignorance of the spots most abundant in metal. the impracticability of navigating the river upwards from the sea, and the want of wood for forming an establishment, would prove insuperable objections to rendering the collection of copper at this part worthy of mercantile speculation. we had the opportunity of surveying the country from several elevated positions. two or three small lakes only were visible, still partly frozen, and much snow remained on the mountains. the trees were reduced to a scanty fringe on the borders of the river and every side was beset by naked mountains. the day was unusually warm and therefore favourable for drying meat. our whole stock of provision, calculated for preservation, was sufficient for fourteen days without any diminution of the ordinary allowance of three pounds to each man per day. the situation of our tents was 67 degrees 10 minutes 30 seconds north, longitude 116 degrees 25 minutes 45 seconds west. june 12. the indians, knowing the course of the river below this point to be only a succession of rapids, declined taking their canoes any farther but, as i conceived one of them would be required, should we be compelled to walk along the coast, two of our men were appointed to conduct it. as we were now entering the confines of the esquimaux country our guides recommended us to be cautious in lighting fires lest we should discover ourselves, adding that the same reason would lead them to travel as much as possible in the valleys, and to avoid crossing the tops of the hills. we embarked at six a.m., taking with us only old keskarrah. the other indians walked along the banks of the river. throughout this day's voyage the current was very strong, running four or five miles an hour, but the navigation was tolerable and we had to lighten the canoes only once, in a contracted part of the river where the waves were very high. the river is in many places confined between perpendicular walls of rock to one hundred and fifty yards in width, and there the rapids were most agitated. large masses of ice twelve or fourteen feet thick were still adhering to many parts of the bank, indicating the tardy departure of winter from this inhospitable land, but the earth around them was rich with vegetation. in the evening two musk-oxen, being seen on the beach, were pursued and killed by our men. whilst we were waiting to embark the meat the indians rejoined us and reported they had been attacked by a bear which sprung upon them whilst they were conversing together. his attack was so sudden that they had not time to level their guns properly, and they all missed except akaitcho who, less confused than the rest, took deliberate aim and shot the animal dead. they do not eat the flesh of the bear but, knowing that we had no such prejudice, they brought us some of the choice pieces which upon trial we found to be very excellent meat. the indians having informed us that we were now within twelve miles of the rapid where the esquimaux have invariably been found, we pitched our tents on the beach under the shelter of a high hill whose precipitous side is washed by the river, intending to send forward some persons to determine the situation of their present abode. some vestiges of an old esquimaux encampment were observed near the tents and the stumps of the trees bore marks of the stone hatchets they use. a strict watch was appointed consisting of an officer, four canadians, and an indian, and directions were given for the rest of the party to sleep with their arms by their side. that as little delay as possible might be experienced in opening a communication with the esquimaux we immediately commenced arrangements for sending forward persons to discover whether there were any in our vicinity. akaitcho and the guides proposed that two of the hunters should be despatched on this service who had extremely quick sight and were accustomed to act as scouts, an office which requires equal caution and circumspection. a strong objection however lay against this plan in the probability of their being discovered by a straggling hunter, which would be destructive to every hope of accommodation. it was therefore determined to send augustus and junius, who were very desirous to undertake the service. these adventurous men proposed to go armed only with pistols concealed in their dress, and furnished with beads, looking-glasses, and other articles, that they might conciliate their countrymen by presents. we could not divest our minds of the apprehension that it might be a service of much hazard if the esquimaux were as hostile to strangers as the copper indians have invariably represented them to be, and we felt great reluctance in exposing our two little interpreters, who had rendered themselves dear to the whole party, to the most distant chance of receiving injury, but this course of proceeding appeared in their opinion and our own to offer the only chance of gaining an interview. though not insensible to the danger they cheerfully prepared for their mission, and clothed themselves in esquimaux dresses which had been made for the purpose at fort enterprise. augustus was desired to make his presents and to tell the esquimaux that the white men had come to make peace between them and all their enemies, and also to discover a passage by which every article of which they stood in need might be brought in large ships. he was not to mention that we were accompanied by the indians but to endeavour to prevail on some of the esquimaux to return with him. he was directed to come back immediately if there were no lodges at the rapid. the indians were not suffered to move out of our sight, but in the evening we permitted two of them to cross the river in pursuit of a musk-ox, which they killed on the beach and returned immediately. the officers, prompted by an anxious solicitude for augustus and junius, crawled up frequently to the summit of the mountain to watch their return. the view however was not extensive, being bounded at the distance of eight miles by a range of hills similar to the copper mountains but not so lofty. the night came without bringing any intelligence of our messengers, and our fears for their safety increased with the length of their absence. as everyone had been interested in the welfare of these men through their vivacity and good nature and the assistance they had cheerfully rendered in bearing their portion of whatever labour might be going on, their detention formed the subject of all our conversation and numerous conjectures were hazarded as to the cause. dr. richardson, having the first watch, had gone to the summit of the hill and remained seated, contemplating the river that washed the precipice under his feet long after dusk had hid distant objects from his view. his thoughts were perhaps far distant from the surrounding scenery, when he was roused by an indistinct noise behind him and, on looking round, perceived that nine white wolves had ranged themselves in form of a crescent and were advancing, apparently with the intention of driving him into the river. on his rising up they halted, and when he advanced they made way for his passage down to the tents. he had his gun in his hand but forbore to fire lest there should be esquimaux in the neighbourhood. during mr. wentzel's middle watch the wolves appeared repeatedly on the summit of the hill, and at one time they succeeded in driving a deer over the precipice. the animal was stunned by the fall but, recovering itself, swam across the stream and escaped up the river. i may remark here that at midnight it was tolerably dark in the valley of the river at this time but that an object on the eminence above could be distinctly seen against the sky. the following observations were taken at this encampment, latitude 67 degrees 23 minutes 14 seconds north, longitude 116 degrees 6 minutes 51 seconds west, variation 49 degrees 46 minutes 24 seconds east. thermometer 75 degrees at three p.m. sultry weather. augustus and junius not having returned next morning we were more alarmed respecting them, and determined on proceeding to find out the cause of their detention, but it was eleven a.m. before we could prevail upon the indians to remain behind, which we wished them to do lest the esquimaux might be suspicious of our intentions if they were seen in our suite. we promised to send for them when we had paved the way for their reception, but akaitcho, ever ready to augur misfortune, expressed his belief that our messengers had been killed and that the esquimaux, warned of our approach, were lying in wait for us, and "although," said he, "your party may be sufficiently strong to repulse any hostile attack, my band is too weak to offer effectual resistance when separated from you, and therefore we are determined to go on with you or to return to our lands." after much argument however he yielded and agreed to stay behind, provided mr. wentzel would remain with him. this gentleman was accordingly left with a canadian attendant and they promised not to pass a range of hills then in view to the northward unless we sent notice to them. the river during the whole of this day's voyage flowed between alternate cliffs of looses and intermixed with gravel and red sandstone rocks, and was everywhere shallow and rapid. as its course was very crooked much time was spent in examining the different rapids previous to running them, but the canoes descended, except at a single place, without any difficulty. most of the officers and half the men marched along the land to lighten the canoes and reconnoitre the country, each person being armed with a gun and a dagger. arriving at a range of mountains which had terminated our view yesterday, we ascended it with much eagerness, expecting to see the rapid that mr. hearne visited near its base, and to gain a view of the sea; but our disappointment was proportionably great when we beheld beyond a plain, similar to that we had just left, terminated by another range of trap hills, between whose tops the summits of some distant blue mountains appeared. our reliance on the information of the guides, which had been for some time shaken, was now quite at an end, and we feared that the sea was still far distant. the flat country here is covered with grass and is devoid of the large stones so frequent in the barren grounds, but the ranges of trap hills which seem to intersect it at regular distances are quite barren. a few decayed stunted pines were standing on the borders of the river. in the evening we had the gratification of meeting junius who was hastening back to inform us that they had found four esquimaux tents at the fall which we recognised to be the one described by mr. hearne. the inmates were asleep at the time of their arrival but rose soon afterwards, and then augustus presented himself and had some conversation across the river. he told them the white people had come, who would make them very useful presents. the information of our arrival seemed to alarm them very much but, as the noise of the rapid prevented them from hearing distinctly, one of them approached him in his canoe and received the rest of the message. he would not however land on his side of the river, but returned to the tents without receiving the present. his language differed in some respects from augustus's but they understood each other tolerably well. augustus, trusting for a supply of provision to the esquimaux, had neglected to carry any with him, and this was the main cause of junius's return. we now encamped, having come fourteen miles. after a few hours' rest junius set off again to rejoin his companion, being accompanied by hepburn who was directed to remain about two miles above the fall to arrest the canoes on their passage, lest we should too suddenly surprise the esquimaux. about ten p.m. we were mortified by the appearance of the indians with mr. wentzel, who had in vain endeavoured to restrain them from following us. the only reason assigned by akaitcho for this conduct was that he wished for a reassurance of my promise to establish peace between his nation and the esquimaux. i took this occasion of again enforcing the necessity of their remaining behind until we had obtained the confidence and goodwill of their enemies. after supper dr. richardson ascended a lofty hill about three miles from the encampment and obtained the first view of the sea; it appeared to be covered with ice. a large promontory, which i named cape hearne, bore north-east and its lofty mountains proved to be the blue land we had seen in the forenoon, and which had led us to believe the sea was still far distant. he saw the sun set a few minutes before midnight from the same elevated situation. it did not rise during the half hour he remained there, but before he reached the encampment its rays gilded the tops of the hills. the night was warm and we were much annoyed by the mosquitoes. june 15. we this morning experienced as much difficulty as before in prevailing upon the indians to remain behind, and they did not consent until i had declared that they should lose the reward which had been promised if they proceeded any farther before we had prepared the esquimaux to receive them. we left a canadian with them and proceeded, not without apprehension that they would follow us and derange our whole plan by their obstinacy. two of the officers and a party of men walked on the shore to lighten the canoes. the river in this part flows between high and stony cliffs, reddish slate clay rocks, and shelving banks of white clay, and is full of shoals and dangerous rapids. one of these was termed escape rapid, both the canoes having narrowly escaped foundering in its high waves. we had entered the rapid before we were aware and, the steepness of the cliffs preventing us from landing, we were indebted to the swiftness of our descent for preservation. two waves made a complete breach over the canoes; a third would in all probability have filled and overset them, which must have proved fatal to everyone in them. the powder fortunately escaped the water, which was soon discharged when we reached the bottom of the rapid. at noon we perceived hepburn lying on the left bank of the river and landed immediately to receive his information. as he represented the water to be shoal the whole way to the rapid (below which the esquimaux were) the shore party were directed to continue their march to a sandy bay at the head of the fall and there await the arrival of the canoes. the land in the neighbourhood of the rapid is of the most singular form: large irregular sandhills bounding both banks, apparently so unconnected that they resemble icebergs, the country around them consisting of high round green hills. the river becomes wide in this part and full of shoals, but we had no difficulty in finding a channel through them. on regaining the shore party we regretted to find that some of the men had incautiously appeared on the tops of the hills just at the time augustus was conversing with one of the esquimaux, who had again approached in his canoe and was almost persuaded to land. the unfortunate appearance of so many people at this instant revived his fears, and he crossed over to the eastern bank of the river, and fled with the whole of his party. we learned from augustus that this party, consisting of four men and as many women, had manifested a friendly disposition. two of the former were very tall. the man who first came to speak to him inquired the number of canoes that we had with us, expressed himself to be not displeased at our arrival, and desired him to caution us not to attempt running the rapid, but to make the portage on the west side of the river. notwithstanding this appearance of confidence and satisfaction it seems they did not consider their situation free from danger, as they retreated the first night to an island somewhat farther down the river, and in the morning they returned and threw down their lodges, as if to give notice to any of their nation that might arrive that there was an enemy in the neighbourhood. from seeing all their property strewed about, and ten of their dogs left, we entertained the hope that these poor people would return after their first alarm had subsided, and therefore i determined on remaining until the next day, in the expectation of seeing them as i considered the opening of an early communication a matter of the greatest importance in our state of absolute ignorance respecting the sea-coast. the canoes and cargoes were carried across the portage and we encamped on the north side of it. we sent augustus and junius across the river to look for the runaways but their search was fruitless. they put a few pieces of iron and trinkets in their canoes, which were lying on the beach. we also sent some men to put up the stages of fish and secure them as much as possible from the attacks of the dogs. under the covering of their tents were observed some stone kettles and hatchets, a few fish spears made of copper, two small bits of iron, a quantity of skins, and some dried salmon, which was covered with maggots and half putrid. the entrails of the fish were spread out to dry. a great many skins of small birds were hung up to a stage, and even two mice were preserved in the same way. thus it would appear that the necessities of these poor people induce them to preserve every article that can be possibly used as food. several human skulls, which bore the marks of violence, and many bones were strewed about the ground near the encampment and, as the spot exactly answers the description given by mr. hearne of the place where the chipewyans who accompanied him perpetrated the dreadful massacre on the esquimaux, we had no doubt of this being the place, notwithstanding the difference in its position as to latitude and longitude given by him and ascertained by our observation. we have therefore preserved the appellation of bloody fall which he bestowed upon it. its situation by our observations is in latitude 67 degrees 42 minutes 35 seconds north, longitude 115 degrees 49 minutes 33 seconds west, variation 50 degrees 20 minutes 14 seconds east. this rapid is a sort of shelving cascade, about three hundred yards in length, having a descent of from ten to fifteen feet. it is bounded on each side by high walls of red sandstone, upon which rests a series of lofty green hills. on its north side close to the east bank is the low rocky island which the esquimaux had deserted. the surrounding scenery was accurately delineated in a sketch taken by mr. hood. we caught forty excellent salmon and white-fish in a single net below the rapid. we had not seen any trees during this day's journey; our fuel consisted of small willows and pieces of dried wood that were picked up near the encampment. the ground is well clothed with grass and nourishes most of the shrubs and berry-bearing plants that we have seen north of fort enterprise; and the country altogether has a richer appearance than the barren lands of the copper indians. we had a distinct view of the sea from the summit of a hill behind the tents; it appeared choked with ice and full of islands. interview with the esquimaux. on the morning of the 16th three men were sent up the river to search for dried wood to make floats for the nets. adam the interpreter was also despatched with a canadian to inform akaitcho of the flight of the esquimaux. we were preparing to go down to the sea in one of the canoes, leaving mr. back to await the return of the men who were absent but, just as the crew were putting the canoe in the water, adam returned in the utmost consternation and informed us that a party of esquimaux were pursuing the men whom we had sent to collect floats. the orders for embarking were instantly countermanded and we went with a part of our men to their rescue. we soon met our people returning at a slow pace and learned that they had come unawares upon the esquimaux party, which consisted of six men with their women and children, who were travelling towards the rapid with a considerable number of dogs carrying their baggage. the women hid themselves on the first alarm, but the men advanced and, stopping at some distance from our men, began to dance in a circle, tossing up their hands in the air and accompanying their motions with much shouting, to signify i conceive their desire of peace. our men saluted them by pulling off their hats and making bows, but neither party was willing to approach the other, and at length the esquimaux retired to the hill from whence they had descended when first seen. we proceeded in the hope of gaining an interview with them but lest our appearance in a body should alarm them we advanced in a long line, at the head of which was augustus. we were led to their baggage, which they had deserted, by the howling of the dogs, and on the summit of a hill we found lying behind a stone an old man who was too infirm to effect his escape with the rest. he was much terrified when augustus advanced and probably expected immediate death but, that the fatal blow might not be unrevenged, he seized his spear and made a thrust with it at his supposed enemy. augustus however easily repressed the feeble effort and soon calmed his fears by presenting him with some pieces of iron and assuring him of his friendly intentions. dr. richardson and i then joined them and, after receiving our presents, the old man was quite composed and became communicative. his dialect differed from that used by augustus but they understood each other tolerably well. it appeared that his party consisted of eight men and their families who were returning from a hunting excursion with dried meat. after being told who we were he said that he had heard of white people from different parties of his nation which resided on the sea-coast to the eastward and, to our inquiries respecting the provision and fuel we might expect to get on our voyage, he informed us that the reindeer frequent the coast during the summer, the fish are plentiful at the mouths of the rivers, the seals are abundant, but there are no sea-horses nor whales, although he remembered one of the latter, which had been killed by some distant tribe, having been driven on shore on his part of the coast by a gale of wind. that musk-oxen were to be found a little distance up the rivers, and that we should get driftwood along the shore. he had no knowledge of the coast to the eastward beyond the next river, which he called nappaarktoktowock, or tree river. the old man, contrary to the indian practice, asked each of our names and, in reply to a similar question on our part, said his name was terregannoeuck, or the white fox, and that his tribe denominated themselves naggeooktormoeoot, or deer-horn esquimaux. they usually frequent the bloody fall during this and the following moons for the purpose of salting salmon, and then retire to a river which flows into the sea a short way to the westward (since denominated richardson's river) and pass the winter in snow-houses. after this conversation terregannoeuck proposed going down to his baggage, and we then perceived he was too infirm to walk without the assistance of sticks. augustus therefore offered him his arm which he readily accepted and, on reaching his store, he distributed pieces of dried meat to each person which, though highly tainted, were immediately eaten, this being a universal token among the indians of peaceable intention. we then informed him of our desire to procure as much meat as we possibly could and he told us that he had a large quantity concealed in the neighbourhood which he would cause to be carried to us when his people returned. i now communicated to him that we were accompanied by some copper indians who were very desirous to make peace with his nation, and that they had requested me to prevail upon the esquimaux to receive them in a friendly manner, to which he replied he should rejoice to see an end put to the hostility that existed between the nations and therefore would most gladly welcome our companions. having despatched adam to inform akaitcho of this circumstance we left terregannoeuck, in the hope that his party would rejoin him but, as we had doubts whether the young men would venture upon coming to our tents on the old man's bare representation, we sent augustus and junius back in the evening to remain with him until they came, that they might fully detail our intentions. the countenance of terregannoeuck was oval with a sufficiently prominent nose and had nothing very different from a european face, except in the smallness of his eyes and perhaps in the narrowness of his forehead. his complexion was very fresh and red and he had a longer beard than i had seen on any of the aboriginal inhabitants of america. it was between two and three inches long and perfectly white. his face was not tattooed. his dress consisted of a shirt, or jacket with a hood, wide breeches reaching only to the knee, and tight leggings sewed to the shoes, all of deer skins. the soles of the shoes were made of seal-skin and stuffed with feathers instead of socks. he was bent with age but appeared to be about five feet ten inches high. his hands and feet were small in proportion to his height. whenever terregannoeuck received a present he placed each article first on his right shoulder then on his left, and when he wished to express still higher satisfaction he rubbed it over his head. he held hatchets and other iron instruments in the highest esteem. on seeing his countenance in a glass for the first time he exclaimed, "i shall never kill deer more," and immediately put the mirror down. the tribe to which he belongs repair to the sea in spring and kill seals; as the season advances they hunt deer and musk-oxen at some distance from the coast. their weapon is the bow and arrow and they get sufficiently nigh the deer, either by crawling or by leading these animals by ranges of turf towards a spot where the archer can conceal himself. their bows are formed of three pieces of fir, the centrepiece alone bent, the other two lying in the same straight line with the bowstring; the pieces are neatly tied together with sinew. their canoes are similar to those we saw in hudson's straits but smaller. they get fish constantly in the rivers and in the sea as soon as the ice breaks up. this tribe do not make use of nets but are tolerably successful with the hook and line. their cooking utensils are made of pot-stone, and they form very neat dishes of fir, the sides being made of thin deal, bent into an oval form, secured at the ends by sewing, and fitted so nicely to the bottom as to be perfectly water-tight. they have also large spoons made of the horns of the musk-oxen. akaitcho and the indians arrived at our tents in the evening and we learned that they had seen the esquimaux the day before and endeavoured without success to open a communication with them. they exhibited no hostile intention but were afraid to advance. akaitcho, keeping out of their sight, followed at a distance, expecting that, ultimately finding themselves enclosed between our party and his, they would be compelled to come to a parley with one of us. akaitcho had seen terregannoeuck soon after our departure; he was much terrified and thrust his spear at him as he had done at augustus, but was soon reconciled after the demonstrations of kindness the indians made in cutting off the buttons from their dress to present to him. july 17. we waited all this forenoon in momentary expectation of the return of augustus and junius but as they did not appear at two p.m. i sent mr. hood with a party of men to inquire into the cause of their detention and to bring the meat which terregannoeuck had promised us. he returned at midnight with the information that none of the esquimaux had yet ventured to come near terregannoeuck except his aged wife, who had concealed herself amongst the rocks at our first interview, and she told him the rest of the party had gone to a river a short distance to the westward where there was another party of esquimaux fishing. augustus and junius had erected the tent and done everything in their power to make the old man comfortable in their absence. terregannoeuck, being unable to walk to the place where the meat was concealed, readily pointed the spot out to mr. hood who went thither but, after experiencing much difficulty in getting at the column of rock on which it was deposited, he found it too putrid for our use. the features of terregannoeuck's wife were remarkable for roundness and flatness; her face was much tattooed and her dress differed little from the old man's. in the afternoon a party of nine esquimaux appeared on the east bank of the river about a mile below our encampment, carrying their canoes and baggage on their backs, but they turned and fled as soon as they perceived our tents. the appearance of so many different bands of esquimaux terrified the indians so much that they determined on leaving us the next day lest they should be surrounded and their retreat cut off. i endeavoured, by the offer of any remuneration they would choose, to prevail upon one or two of the hunters to proceed but in vain; and i had much difficulty even in obtaining their promise to wait at the copper mountains for mr. wentzel and the four men, whom i intended to discharge at the sea. the fears which our interpreters, st. germain and adam, entertained respecting the voyage were now greatly increased and both of them came this evening to request their discharge, urging that their services could be no longer requisite as the indians were going from us. st. germain even said that he had understood he was only engaged to accompany us as long as the indians did, and persisted in this falsehood until his agreement to go with us throughout the voyage had been twice read to him. as these were the only two of the party on whose skill in hunting we could rely i was unable to listen for a moment to their desire of quitting us and, lest they should leave us by stealth, their motions were strictly watched. this was not an unnecessary precaution as i was informed that they had actually laid a plan for eloping; but the rest of the men, knowing that their own safety would have been compromised had they succeeded, kept a watchful eye over them. we knew that the dread of the esquimaux would prevent these men from leaving us as soon as the indians were at a distance, and we trusted to their becoming reconciled to the journey when once the novelty of a sea voyage had worn off. departure of the indian hunters. arrangements made with them for our return. july 18. as the indians persevered in their determination of setting out this morning i reminded them, through mr. wentzel and st. germain, of the necessity of our having the deposit of provision made at fort enterprise, and received a renewed assurance of their attending to that point. they were also desired to put as much meat as they could en cache on the banks of the copper-mine river on their return. we then furnished them with what ammunition we could spare and they took their departure promising to wait three days for mr. wentzel at the copper mountains. we afterwards learned that their fears did not permit them to do so, and that mr. wentzel did not rejoin them until they were a day's march to the southward of the mountains. we embarked at five a.m. and proceeded towards the sea which is about nine miles beyond the bloody fall. after passing a few rapids the river became wider and more navigable for canoes, flowing between banks of alluvial sand. we encamped at ten on the western bank at its junction with the sea. the river is here about a mile wide but very shallow, being barred nearly across by sandbanks which run out from the mainland on each side to a low alluvial island that lies in the centre and forms two channels, of these the westernmost only is navigable even for canoes, the other being obstructed by a stony bar. the islands to seaward are high and numerous and fill the horizon in many points of the compass; the only open space seen from an eminence near the encampment being from north by east to north-east by north. towards the east the land was like a chain of islands, the ice apparently surrounding them in a compact body, leaving a channel between its edge and the main of about three miles. the water in this channel was of a clear green colour and decidedly salt. mr. hearne could have tasted it only at the mouth of the river, when he pronounced it merely brackish. a rise and fall of four inches in the water was observed. the shore is strewed with a considerable quantity of drift timber, principally of the populus balsamifera, but none of it of great size. we also picked up some decayed wood far out of the reach of the water. a few stunted willows were growing near the encampment. some ducks, gulls, and partridges were seen this day. as i had to make up despatches for england to be sent by mr. wentzel the nets were set in the interim and we were rejoiced to find that they produced sufficient fish for the party. those caught were the copper-mine river salmon, white-fish, and two species of pleuronectes. we felt a considerable change of temperature on reaching the sea-coast, produced by the winds changing from the southward to the north-west. our canadian voyagers complained much of the cold but they were amused with their first view of the sea and particularly with the sight of the seals that were swimming about near the entrance of the river, but these sensations gave place to despondency before the evening had elapsed. they were terrified at the idea of a voyage through an icy sea in bark canoes. they speculated on the length of the journey, the roughness of the waves, the uncertainty of provisions, the exposure to cold where we could expect no fuel, and the prospect of having to traverse the barren grounds to get to some establishment. the two interpreters expressed their apprehensions with the least disguise and again urgently applied to be discharged, but only one of the canadians made a similar request. judging that the constant occupation of their time as soon as we were enabled to commence the voyage would prevent them from conjuring up so many causes of fear, and that familiarity with the scenes on the coast would in a short time enable them to give scope to their natural cheerfulness, the officers endeavoured to ridicule their fears and happily succeeded for the present. the manner in which our faithful hepburn viewed the element to which he had been so long accustomed contributed not a little to make them ashamed of their fears. on the morning of the 19th dr. richardson, accompanied by augustus, paid another visit to terregannoeuck to see if he could obtain any additional information respecting the country to the eastward, but he was disappointed at finding that his affrighted family had not yet rejoined him, and the old man could add nothing to his former communication. the doctor remarked that terreganoeuck had a great dislike to mentioning the name of the copper-mine river, and evaded the question with much dexterity as often as it was put to him, but that he willingly told the name of a river to the eastward and also of his tribe. he attempted to persuade augustus to remain with him and offered him one of his daughters for a wife. these esquimaux strike fire with two stones, catching the sparks in the down of the catkins of a willow. the despatches being finished were delivered this evening to mr. wentzel, who parted from us at eight p.m. with parent, gagnier, dumas, and forcier, canadians whom i discharged for the purpose of reducing our expenditure of provision as much as possible. the remainder of the party including officers amounted to twenty persons. i made mr. wentzel acquainted with the probable course of our future proceedings and mentioned to him that, if we were far distant from this river when the season or other circumstances rendered it necessary to put a stop to our advance, we should in all probability be unable to return to it and should have to travel across the barren grounds towards some established post, in which case i told him that we should certainly go first to fort enterprise, expecting that he would cause the indians to place a supply of dried provision there, as soon as possible after their arrival in its vicinity. my instructions to him were that he should proceed to point lake, transport the canoe that was left there to fort enterprise, where he was to embark the instruments and books and carry them to slave lake, and to forward the box containing the journals, etc., with the present despatches by the next winter packet to england. but before he quitted fort enterprise he was to be assured of the intention of the indians to lay up the provision we required and, if they should be in want of ammunition for that purpose, to procure it if possible from fort providence or the other forts in slave lake, and send it immediately to them by the hunters who accompanied him thither. i also requested him to ascertain from akaitcho and the other leading indians where their different parties would be hunting in the months of september and october, and to leave this information in a letter at fort enterprise for our guidance in finding them, as we should require their assistance. mr. wentzel was furnished with a list of the stores that had been promised to akaitcho and his party as a remuneration for their services, as well as with an official request to the north-west company that these goods might be paid to them on their next visit to fort providence, which they expected to make in the latter part of november. i desired him to mention this circumstance to the indians as an encouragement to exertion in our behalf and to promise them an additional reward for the supply of provision they should collect at fort enterprise. if mr. wentzel met the hook or any of his party he was instructed to assure them that he was provided with the necessary documents to get them payment for any meat they should put en cache for our use, and to acquaint them that we fully relied on their fulfilling every part of the agreement they had made with us. whenever the indians, whom he was to join at the copper mountains, killed any animals on their way to fort enterprise, he was requested to put en cache whatever meat could be spared, placing conspicuous marks to guide us to them, and i particularly begged he would employ them in hunting in our service immediately after his arrival at the house. when mr. wentzel's party had been supplied with ammunition our remaining stock consisted of one thousand balls and rather more than the requisite proportion of powder. a bag of small shot was missing and we afterwards discovered that the canadians had secreted and distributed it among themselves in order that when provision should become scarce they might privately procure ducks and geese and avoid the necessity of sharing them with the officers. the situation of our encampment was ascertained to be latitude 67 degrees 47 minutes 50 seconds north, longitude 115 degrees 36 minutes 49 seconds west, the variation of the compass 46 degrees 25 minutes 52 seconds east, and dip of the needle 88 degrees 5 minutes 07 seconds. it will be perceived that the position of the mouth of the river given by our observations differs widely from that assigned by mr. hearne, but the accuracy of his description, conjoined with indian information, assured us that we were at the very part he visited. i therefore named the most conspicuous cape we then saw cape hearne as a just tribute to the memory of that persevering traveller. i distinguished another cape by the name of mackenzie in honour of sir alexander mackenzie, the only other european* who had before reached the northern ocean. i called the river which falls into the sea to the westward of the copper-mine richardson as a testimony of sincere regard for my friend and companion dr. richardson, and named the islands which were in view from our encampment couper's isles in honour of a friend of his. the sun set this night at thirty minutes after eleven apparent time. (*footnote. captain parry's success was at this time unknown to us.) the travelling distance from fort enterprise to the north of the copper-mine river is about three hundred and thirty-four miles. the canoes and baggage were dragged over snow and ice for one hundred and seventeen miles of this distance. chapter 11. navigation of the polar sea, in two canoes, as far as cape turnagain, to the eastward, a distance exceeding five hundred and fifty miles. observations on the probability of a north-west passage. navigation of the polar sea, in two canoes, as far as cape turnagain, to the eastward, a distance exceeding five hundred and fifty miles. july 20, 1821. we intended to have embarked early this morning and to have launched upon an element more congenial with our habits than the freshwater navigations with their numerous difficulties and impediments which we had hitherto encountered, but which was altogether new to our canadian voyagers. we were detained however by a strong north-east gale which continued the whole day with constant thundershowers, the more provoking as our nets procured but few fish and we had to draw upon our store of dried meat, which, with other provision for the journey, amounted only to fifteen days' consumption. indeed we should have preferred going dinnerless to bed rather than encroach on our small stock had we not been desirous of satisfying the appetites and cheering the spirits of our canadian companions at the commencement of our voyage. these thoughtless people would at any time incur the hazard of absolute starvation at a future period for the present gratification of their appetites, to indulge which they do not hesitate, as we more than once experienced, at helping themselves secretly, it being in their opinion no disgrace to be detected in pilfering food. our only luxury now was a little salt which had long been our substitute both for bread and vegetables. since our departure from point lake we had boiled the indian tea plant ledum palustre which provided a beverage in smell much resembling rhubarb, notwithstanding which we found it refreshing and were gratified to see this plant flourishing abundantly on the sea shore though of dwarfish growth. july 21. the wind which had blown strong through the night became moderate in the morning, but a dense fog prevented us from embarking until noon when we commenced our voyage on the hyperborean sea. soon afterwards we landed on an island where the esquimaux had erected a stage of drift timber, and stored up many of their fishing implements and winter sledges, together with a great many dressed seal, musk-ox, and deer skins. their spears, headed with bone and many small articles of the same material, were worked with extreme neatness, as well as their wooden dishes and cooking utensils of stone, and several articles, very elegantly formed of bone, were evidently intended for some game, but augustus was unacquainted with their use. we took from this deposit four seal-skins to repair our shoes and left in exchange a copper-kettle, some awls and beads. we paddled all day along the coast to the eastward on the inside of a crowded range of islands and saw very little ice; the blink of it however was visible to the northward, and one small iceberg was seen at a distance. a tide was distinguishable among the islands by the foam floating on the water but we could not ascertain its direction. in the afternoon st. germain killed on an island a fat deer which was a great acquisition to us; it was the first we had seen for some months in good condition. having encamped on the main shore after a run of thirty-seven miles we set up a pole to ascertain the rise and fall of the water, which was repeated at every halting-place, and hepburn was ordered to attend to the result. we found the coast well covered with vegetation of moderate height, even in its outline, and easy of approach. the islands are rocky and barren, presenting high cliffs of a columnar structure. i have named the westernmost group of those we passed berens' isles in honour of the governor of the hudson's bay company, and the easternmost sir graham moore's islands. at the spot where we landed some mussel-shells and a single piece of seaweed lay on the beach; this was the only spot on the coast where we saw shells. we were rejoiced to find the beach strewed with abundance of small driftwood none of it recent. it may be remarked that the copper-mine river does not bring down any driftwood, nor does any other known stream except mackenzie's river, hence from its appearance on this part of the coast an easterly current may be inferred. this evening we were all in high glee at the progress we had made; the disappearance of the ice and the continuance of the land in an eastern direction and our future prospects formed an enlivening subject of conversation. the thermometer varied during the day between 43 and 45 degrees. the fishing-nets were set but produced nothing. on the 22nd we embarked at four a.m. and, having the benefit of a light breeze, continued our voyage along the coast under sail until eleven when we halted to breakfast and to obtain the latitude. the coast up to this point presented the same general appearance as yesterday, namely a gravelly or sandy beach skirted by green plains, but as we proceeded the shore became exceedingly rocky and sterile and at last, projecting considerably to the northward, it formed a high and steep promontory. some ice had drifted down upon this cape which we feared might check our progress but, as the evening was fine, we ventured upon pushing the canoes through the small channels formed among it. after pursuing this kind of navigation with some danger and more anxiety we landed and encamped on a smooth rocky point whence we perceived with much satisfaction that the ice consisted only of detached pieces which would be removed by the first breeze. we sounded in seventeen fathoms close to the shore this day. the least depth ascertained by the lead since our departure from the river was six fathoms, and any ship might pass safely between the islands and the main. the water is of a light green colour but not very clear and much less salt than that of the atlantic, judging from our recollection of its taste. in the course of the day we saw geese and ducks with their young and two deer, and experienced very great variations of temperature from the light breezes blowing alternately from the ice and the land. the name of lawford's islands was bestowed on a group we passed in the course of the day as a mark of my respect for vice-admiral lawford, under whose auspices i first entered the naval service. a fresh breeze blowing through the night had driven the ice from the land and opened a channel of a mile in width; we therefore embarked at nine a.m. to pursue our journey along the coast but, at the distance of nine miles were obliged to seek shelter in port epworth, the wind having become adverse and too strong to admit of our proceeding. the tree river of the esquimaux which discharges its waters into this bay appears to be narrow and much interrupted by rapids. the fishing-nets were set but obtained only one white-fish and a few bull-heads. this part of the coast is the most sterile and inhospitable that can be imagined. one trap-cliff succeeds another with tiresome uniformity and their debris cover the narrow valleys that intervene, to the exclusion of every kind of herbage. from the summit of these cliffs the ice appeared in every direction. we obtained the following observations during our stay: latitude 67 degrees 42 minutes 15 seconds north, longitude 112 degrees 30 minutes 00 seconds west, variation 47 degrees 37 minutes 42 seconds east. the wind abating, at eight p.m. we reembarked and soon afterwards discovered on an island a reindeer, which the interpreters fortunately killed. resuming our voyage we were much impeded by the ice and at length, being unable to force a passage through a close stream that had collected round a cape, we put ashore at four a.m. on the 24th several stone fox-traps and other traces of the esquimaux were seen near the encampment. the horizontal refraction varied so much this morning that the upper limb of the sun twice appeared at the horizon before it finally rose. for the last two days the water rose and fell about nine inches. the tides however seemed to be very irregular and we could not determine the direction of the ebb or flood. a current setting to the eastward was running about two miles an hour during our stay. the ice having removed a short distance from the shore by eleven a.m. we embarked, and with some difficulty effected a passage, then, making a traverse across gray's bay,* we paddled up under the eastern shore against a strong wind. the interpreters landed here and went in pursuit of a deer but had no success. this part of the coast is indented by deep bays which are separated by peninsulas formed like wedges, sloping many miles into the sea and joined by low land to the main, so that, often mistaking them for islands, we were led by a circuitous route round the bays. cliffs were numerous on the islands which were all of the trap formation. (*footnote. named after mr. gray principal of the belfast academy. an island which lies across the mouth of this bay bears the name of our english sailor hepburn.) at seven, a thunderstorm coming on, we encamped at the mouth of a river about eighty yards wide and set four nets. this stream, which received the name of wentzel after our late companion, discharges a considerable body of water. its banks are sandy and clothed with herbage. the esquimaux had recently piled up some drift timber here. a few ducks, ravens, and snow-birds were seen today. the distance made was thirty-one miles. july 25. we had constant rain with thunder during the night. the nets furnished only three salmon-trout. we attributed the want of greater success to the entrance of some seals into the mouth of the river. embarking at six a.m. we paddled against a cold breeze until the spreading of a thick fog caused us to land. the rocks here consisted of a beautiful mixture of red and gray granite, traversed from north to south by veins of red felspar which were crossed in various directions by smaller veins filled with the same substance. at noon the wind coming from a favourable quarter tempted us to proceed, although the fog was unabated. we kept as close as we could to the main shore but, having to cross some bays, it became a matter of doubt whether we had not left the main and were running along an island. just as we were endeavouring to double a bold cape the fog partially cleared away and allowed us an imperfect view of a chain of islands on the outside, and of much heavy ice which was pressing down upon us. the coast near us was so steep and rugged that no landing of the cargoes could be effected and we were preserved only by some men jumping on the rocks and thrusting the ice off with poles. there was no alternative but to continue along this dreary shore seeking a channel between the different masses of ice which had accumulated at the various points. in this operation both the canoes were in imminent danger of being crushed by the ice which was now tossed about by the waves that the gale had excited. we effected a passage however and, keeping close to the shore, landed at the entrance of detention harbour at nine p.m., having come twenty-eight miles. an old esquimaux encampment was traced on this spot, and an ice chisel, a copper knife, and a small iron knife were found under the turf. i named this cape after mr. barrow of the admiralty to whose exertions are mainly owing the discoveries recently made in arctic geography. an opening on its eastern side received the appellation of inman harbour after my friend the professor at the royal naval college, portsmouth, and to a group of islands to seaward of it we gave the name of jameson in honour of the distinguished professor of mineralogy at edinburgh. we had much wind and rain during the night and by the morning of the 26th a great deal of ice had drifted into the inlet. we embarked at four and attempted to force a passage, when the first canoe got enclosed and remained for some time in a very perilous situation: the pieces of ice, crowded together by the action of the current and wind, pressing strongly against its feeble sides. a partial opening however occurring we landed without having sustained any serious injury. two men were then sent round the bay and it was ascertained that, instead of having entered a narrow passage between an island and the main, we were at the mouth of a harbour having an island at its entrance, and that it was necessary to return by the way we came and get round a point to the northward. this was however impracticable, the channel being blocked up by drift ice, and we had no prospect of release except by a change of wind. this detention was extremely vexatious as we were losing a fair wind and expending our provision. in the afternoon the weather cleared up and several men went hunting but were unsuccessful. during the day the ice floated backwards and forwards in the harbour, moved by currents not regular enough to deserve the name of tide, and which appeared to be governed by the wind. we perceived great diminution by melting in the pieces near us. that none of this ice survives the summer is evident from the rapidity of its decay and because no ice of last year's formation was hanging on the rocks. whether any body of it exists at a distance from the shore we could not determine. the land around cape barrow and to detention harbour consists of steep craggy mountains of granite rising so abruptly from the water's edge as to admit few landing-places even for a canoe. the higher parts attain an elevation of fourteen or fifteen hundred feet and the whole is entirely destitute of vegetation. on the morning of the 27th, the ice remaining stationary at the entrance, we went to the bottom of the harbour and carried the canoes and cargoes about a mile and a half across the point of land that forms the east side of it, but the ice was not more favourable there for our advancement than at the place we had left. it consisted of small pieces closely packed together by the wind extending along the shore but leaving a clear passage beyond the chain of islands with which the whole of this coast is girt. indeed when we left the harbour we had little hope of finding a passage, and the principal object in moving was to employ the men in order to prevent their reflecting upon and discussing the dangers of our situation which we knew they were too apt to do when leisure permitted. our observations place the entrance of detention harbour in latitude 67 degrees 53 minutes 45 seconds, longitude 110 degrees 41 minutes 20 seconds west, variation 40 degrees 49 minutes 34 seconds east. it is a secure anchorage being sheltered from the wind in every direction; the bottom is sandy. july 28. as the ice continued in the same state several of the men were sent out to hunt, and one of them fired no less than four times at deer but unfortunately without success. it was satisfactory however to ascertain that the country was not destitute of animals. we had the mortification to discover that two of the bags of pemmican which was our principal reliance had become mouldy by wet. our beef too had been so badly cured as to be scarcely eatable through our having been compelled from haste to dry it by fire instead of the sun. it was not however the quality of our provision that gave us uneasiness but its diminution and the utter incapacity to obtain any addition. seals were the only animals that met our view at this place and these we could never approach. dr. richardson discovered near the beach a small vein of galena traversing gneiss rocks, and the people collected a quantity of it in the hope of adding to our stock of balls, but their endeavours to smelt it were as may be supposed ineffectual. the drift timber on this part of the coast consists of pine and taccamahac (populus balsamifera) most probably from mackenzie's or some other river to the westward of the copper-mine. it all appears to have lain long in the water, the bark being completely worn off and the ends of the pieces rubbed perfectly smooth. there had been a sharp frost in the night which formed a pretty thick crust of ice in a kettle of water that stood in the tents, and for several nights thin films of ice had appeared on the salt water amongst the cakes of stream ice.* notwithstanding this state of temperature we were tormented by swarms of mosquitoes; we had persuaded ourselves that these pests could not sustain the cold in the vicinity of the sea but it appears they haunt every part of this country in defiance of climate. mr. back made an excursion to a hill at seven or eight miles distance and from its summit he perceived the ice close to the shore as far as his view extended. (footnote. this is termed bay-ice by the greenland men.) on the morning of the 29th the party attended divine service. about noon, the ice appearing less compact, we embarked to change our situation, having consumed all the fuel within our reach. the wind came off the land just as the canoes had started and we determined on attempting to force a passage along the shore, in which we happily succeeded after seven hours' labour and much hazard to our frail vessels. the ice lay so close that the crews disembarked on it and effected a passage by bearing against the pieces with their poles, but in conducting the canoes through the narrow channels thus formed the greatest care was requisite to prevent the sharp projecting points from breaking the bark. they fortunately received no material injury though they were split in two places. at the distance of three miles we came to the entrance of a deep bay whose bottom was filled by a body of ice so compact as to preclude the idea of a passage through it, whilst at the same time the traverse across its mouth was attended with much danger from the approach of a large field of ice which was driving down before the wind. the dread of further detention however prevented us from hesitating, and we had the satisfaction of landing in an hour and a half on the opposite shore, where we halted to repair the canoes and to dine. i have named this bay after my friend mr. daniel moore of lincoln's inn, to whose zeal for science the expedition was indebted for the use of a most valuable chronometer. its shores are picturesque, sloping hills receding from the beach and closed with verdure bound its bottom and western side, and lofty cliffs of slate clay with their intervening grassy valleys skirt its eastern border. embarking at midnight we pursued our voyage without interruption, passing between the stockport and marcet islands and the main, until six a.m. on july 30th when, having rounded point kater, we entered arctic sound and were again involved in a stream of ice, but after considerable delay extricated ourselves and proceeded towards the bottom of the inlet in search of the mouth of a river which we supposed it to receive, from the change in the colour of the water. about ten a.m. we landed to breakfast on a small deer which st. germain had killed, and sent men in pursuit of some others in sight but with which they did not come up. reembarking we passed the river without perceiving it and entered a deep arm of the sound which i have named baillie's cove in honour of a relative of the lamented mr. hood. as it was too late to return we encamped and, by walking across the country, discovered the river whose mouth, being barred by low sandy islands and banks, was not perceived when we passed it. course and distance from galena point to this encampment were south-east 3/4 south forty miles. from the accounts of black-meat and boileau at fort chipewyan we considered this river to be the anatessy, and cape barrow to be the projection which they supposed to be the north-east termination of america. the outline of the coast indeed bears some resemblance to the chart they sketched, and the distance of this river from the copper-mine nearly coincides with what we estimated the anatessy to be from their statements. in our subsequent journey however across the barren grounds we ascertained that this conjecture was wrong, and that the anatessy, which is known to come from rum lake, must fall into the sea to the eastward of this place. our stock of provision being now reduced to eight days' consumption it had become a matter of the first importance to obtain a supply and, as we had learned from terregannoeuck that the esquimaux frequent the rivers at this season, i determined on seeking a communication with them here, in the hope of obtaining relief for our present wants or even shelter for the winter if the season should prevent us from returning either to the hook's party or fort enterprise, and i was the more induced to take this step at this time as several deer had been seen today and the river appeared good for fishing, which led me to hope we might support the party during our stay if not add to our stock by our own exertions in hunting and fishing. augustus, junius, and hepburn were therefore furnished with the necessary presents and desired to go along the bank of the river as far as they could on the following day in search of the natives to obtain provision and leather as well as information respecting the coast. they started at four a.m. and at the same time our hunters were sent off in search of deer, and the rest of the party proceeded in the canoes to the first cascade in the river, at the foot of which we encamped and set four nets. this cascade, produced by a ridge of rocks crossing the stream, is about three or four feet in height and about two hundred and fifty yards wide. its position by our observations in latitude 67 degrees 19 minutes 23 seconds north, longitude 109 degrees 44 minutes 30 seconds west, variation 41 degrees 43 minutes 22 seconds, dip 88 degrees 58 minutes 48 seconds. i have named this river hood as a small tribute to the memory of our lamented friend and companion. it is from three to four hundred yards wide below the cascade but in many places very shallow. the banks, bottom, and adjacent hills are formed of a mixture of sand and clay. the ground was overspread with small willows and the dwarf birch, both too diminutive for fuel, and the stream brought down no driftwood. we were mortified to find the nets only procured one salmon and five white-fish, and that we had to make another inroad upon our dried meat. august 1. at two this morning the hunters returned with two small deer and a brown bear. augustus and junius arrived at the same time, having traced the river twelve miles farther up without discovering any vestige of inhabitants. we had now an opportunity of gratifying our curiosity respecting the bear so much dreaded by the indians, and of whose strength and ferocity we had heard such terrible accounts. it proved to be a lean male of a yellowish brown colour and not longer than a common black bear. it made a feeble attempt to defend itself and was easily despatched. the flesh was brought to the tent but, our fastidious voyagers supposing, from its leanness, that the animal had been sickly, declined eating it; the officers however being less scrupulous boiled the paws and found them excellent. we embarked at ten a.m. and, proceeding down the river, took on board another deer that had been killed by credit that evening. we then ran along the eastern shore of arctic sound, distinguished by the name of banks' peninsula in honour of the late right honourable sir joseph banks, president of the royal society and, rounding point wollaston at its eastern extremity, opened another extensive sheet of water, and the remainder of the afternoon was spent in endeavouring to ascertain from the tops of the hills whether it was another bay or merely a passage enclosed by a chain of islands. appearances rather favouring the latter opinion we determined on proceeding through it to the southward. during the delay four more deer were killed, all young and lean. it appeared that the coast is pretty well frequented by reindeer at this season, but it was rather singular that hitherto we had killed none (excepting the first) but young ones of last season which were all too lean to have been eaten by any but persons who had no choice. we paddled along the western shore with the intention of encamping but were prevented by the want of driftwood on the beach. this induced us to make a traverse to an island where we put up at midnight, having found a small bay whose shores furnished us with a little firewood. a heavy gale came on from the westward attended with constant rain, and one of the squalls overthrew our tents. the course and distance made this day were north-east sixteen miles and a half. i may here mention that arctic sound appeared the most convenient and perhaps the best place for ships to anchor that we had seen along the coast, at this season especially, when they might increase their stock of provision, if provided with good marksmen. deer are numerous in its vicinity, musk-oxen also may be found up hood's river, and the fine sandy bottom of the bays promises favourably for fishing with the seine. the hills on the western side are even in their outline and slope gradually to the water's edge. the rocks give place to an alluvial sandy soil towards the bottom of the sound, but on banks' peninsula rocky eminences again prevail which are rugged and uneven but intersected by valleys, at this time green; along their base is a fine sandy beach. from point wollaston to our encampment the coast is skirted with trap cliffs which have often a columnar form and are very difficult of access. these cliffs lie in ranges parallel to the shore and the deer that we killed were feeding in small marshy grassy plats that lie in the valleys between them. being detained by the continuance of the gale on the 2nd of august some men were sent out to hunt and the officers visited the tops of the highest hills to ascertain the best channels to be pursued. the wind abating at ten p.m. we embarked and paddled round the southern end of the island and continued our course to the south-east. much doubt at this time prevailed as to the land on the right being the main shore or merely a chain of islands. the latter opinion was strengthened by the broken appearance of the land and the extensive view we had up brown's channel (named after my friend mr. robert brown) the mouth of which we passed and were in some apprehension of being led away from the main shore and, perhaps after passing through a group of islands, of coming to a traverse greater than we durst venture upon in canoes: on the other hand the continuous appearance of the land on the north side of the channel and its tending to the southward excited the fear that we were entering a deep inlet. in this state of doubt we landed often and endeavoured, from the summits of the highest hills adjoining the shore, to ascertain the true nature of the coast but in vain, and we continued paddling through the channel all night against a fresh breeze, which at half-past four increased to a violent gale and compelled us to land. the gale diminished a short time after noon on the 3rd and permitted us to reembark and continue our voyage until four p.m., when it returned with its former violence and finally obliged us to encamp, having come twenty-four miles on a south-east three-quarter south course. from the want of driftwood to make a fire we had fasted all day and were under the necessity in the evening of serving out pemmican, which was done with much reluctance, especially as we had some fresh deers' meat remaining. the inlet when viewed from a high hill adjoining to our encampment exhibited so many arms that the course we ought to pursue was more uncertain than ever. it was absolutely necessary however to see the end of it before we could determine that it was not a strait. starting at three a.m. on the 4th we paddled the whole day through channels from two to five or six miles wide, all tending to the southward. in the course of the day's voyage we ascertained that the land which we had seen on our right since yesterday morning consisted of several large islands which have been distinguished by the names of goulburn, elliott, and young, but the land on our left preserved its unbroken appearance and when we encamped we were still uncertain whether it was the eastern side of a deep sound or merely a large island. it differed remarkably from the main shore, being very rugged, rocky, and sterile, whereas the outline of the main on the opposite side was even and its hills covered with a comparatively good sward of grass exhibiting little naked rock. there was no drift timber but the shores near the encampment were strewed with small pieces of willow which indicated our vicinity to the mouth of a river. this fuel enabled us to make a hearty supper from a small deer killed this evening. the shallows we passed this day were covered with shoals of capelin, the angmaggoeuk of the esquimaux. it was known to augustus who informed us that it frequents the coast of hudson's bay and is delicate eating. the course and distance made was south by east-half-east, thirty-three miles. after paddling twelve miles in the morning of the 5th we had the mortification to find the inlet terminated by a river, the size of which we could not ascertain as the entrance was blocked by shoals. its mouth lies in latitude 66 degrees 30 minutes north, longitude 107 degrees 53 minutes west. i have named this stream back as a mark of my friendship for my associate.* we were somewhat consoled for the loss of time in exploring this inlet by the success of junius in killing a musk-ox, the first we had seen on the coast; and afterwards by the acquisition of the flesh of a bear that was shot as we were returning up the eastern side in the evening. the latter proved to be a female in very excellent condition; and our canadian voyagers whose appetite for fat meat is insatiable were delighted. (*footnote. from subsequent conversation with the copper indians we were inclined to suppose this may be the thlueetessy described by black meat mentioned in a former part of the narrative.) we encamped on the shores of a sandy bay and set the nets and, finding a quantity of dried willows on the beach, we were enabled to cook the bear's flesh which was superior to any meat we tasted on the coast. the water fell two feet at this place during the night. our nets produced a great variety of fish, namely a salmon trout, some round-fish, tittameg, bleak, star-fish, several herrings and a flat fish resembling plaice, but covered on the back with horny excrescences. on the 6th we were detained in the encampment by stormy weather until five p.m. when we embarked and paddled along the northern shore of the inlet, the weather still continuing foggy but the wind moderate. observing on the beach a she-bear with three young ones we landed a party to attack them but, being approached without due caution, they took the alarm and scaled a precipitous rocky hill with a rapidity that baffled all pursuit. at eight o'clock, the fog changing into rain, we encamped. many seals were seen this day but as they kept in deep water we did not fire at them. on august 7th the atmosphere was charged with fog and rain all the day, but as the wind was moderate we pursued our journey; our situation however was very unpleasant, being quite wet and without room to stretch a limb, much less to obtain warmth by exercise. we passed a cove which i have named after my friend mr. w.h. tinney, and proceeded along the coast until five p.m. when we put up on a rocky point nearly opposite to our encampment on the 3rd, having come twenty-three miles on a north-north-west course. we were detained on the 8th by a northerly gale which blew violently throughout the day attended by fog and rain. some of the men went out to hunt but they saw no other animal than a white wolf which could not be approached. the fresh meat being expended a little pemmican was served out this evening. the gale abated on the morning of the 9th and the sea, which it had raised, having greatly subsided, we embarked at seven a.m. and, after paddling three or four miles, opened sir j.a. gordon's bay into which we penetrated thirteen miles and then discovered from the summit of a hill that it would be in vain to proceed in this direction in search of a passage out of the inlet. our breakfast diminished our provision to two bags of pemmican and a single meal of dried meat. the men began to apprehend absolute want of food and we had to listen to their gloomy forebodings of the deer entirely quitting the coast in a few days. as we were embarking however a large bear was discovered on the opposite shore which we had the good fortune to kill, and the sight of this fat meat relieved their fears for the present. dr. richardson found in the stomach of this animal the remains of a seal, several marmots (arctomys richardsonii) a large quantity of the liquorice root of mackenzie (hedysarum) which is common on these shores, and some berries. there was also intermixed with these substances a small quantity of grass. we got again into the main inlet and paddled along its eastern shore until forty minutes after eight a.m. when we encamped in a small cove. we found a single log of driftwood; it was pine and sufficiently large to enable us to cook a portion of the bear which had a slight fishy taste but was deemed very palatable. august 10. we followed up the east border of the inlet about twenty-four miles and at length emerged into the opens sea, a body of islands to the westward concealing the channel by which we had entered. here our progress was arrested by returning bad weather. we killed a bear and its young cub of this year on the beach near our encampment. we heartily congratulated ourselves at having arrived at the eastern entrance of this inlet which had cost us nine invaluable days in exploring. it contains several secure harbours, especially near the mouth of back's river where there is a sandy bottom in forty fathoms. on the 3rd and 4th of august we observed a fall of more than two feet in the water during the night. there are various irregular and partial currents in the inlet which may be attributed to the wind. i have distinguished it by the name of bathurst's inlet after the noble secretary of state under whose orders i had the honour to act. it runs about seventy-six miles south-east from cape everitt but in coasting its shores we went about one hundred and seventy-four geographical miles. it is remarkable that none of the indians with whom we had spoken mentioned this inlet, and we subsequently learned that in their journeys they strike across from the mouth of one river to the mouth of another without tracing the intermediate line of coast. august 11. embarking at five a.m. we rounded point everitt and then encountered a strong breeze and heavy swell which, by causing the canoes to pitch very much, greatly impeded our progress. some deer being seen grazing in a valley near the beach we landed and sent st. germain and adam in pursuit of them who soon killed three which were very small and lean. their appearance however quite revived the spirits of our men who had suspected that the deer had retired to the woods. it would appear from our not having seen any in passing along the shores of bathurst's inlet that at this season they confine themselves to the sea-coast and the islands. the magpie-berries (arbutus alpina) were found quite ripe at this place, and very abundant on the acclivities of the hills. we also ascended the highest hill and gained a view of a distant chain of islands extending as far as the eye could reach, and perceived a few patches of ice still lingering round to some of them, but in every other part the sea was quite open. resuming our voyage after noon we proceeded along the coast which is fringed by islands, and at five p.m. entered another bay where we were for some time involved in our late difficulties by the intricacy of the passages, but we cleared them in the afternoon and encamped near the northern entrance of the bay at a spot which had recently been visited by a small party of esquimaux, as the remains of some eggs containing young were lying beside some half-burnt firewood. there were also several piles of stones put up by them. i have named this bay after my friend captain david buchan of the royal navy. it appears to be a safe anchorage, well sheltered from the wind and sea by islands; the bottom is sandy, the shores high and composed of red sandstone. two deer were seen on its beach but could not be approached. the distance we made today was eighteen miles and three-quarters. embarking at four on the morning of the 12th we proceeded against a fresh piercing north-east wind which raised the waves to a height that quite terrified our people, accustomed only to the navigation of rivers and lakes. we were obliged however to persevere in our advance, feeling as we did that the short season for our operations was hastening away, but after rounding cape croker the wind became so strong that we could proceed no farther. the distance we had made was only six miles on a north-east by east course. the shore on which we encamped is formed of the debris of red sandstone and is destitute of vegetation. the beach furnished no driftwood and we dispensed with our usual meal rather than expend our pemmican. several deer were seen but the hunters could not approach them; they killed two swans. we observed the latitude 68 degrees 1 minute 20 seconds where we had halted to breakfast this morning. august 13. though the wind was not much diminished we were urged by the want of firewood to venture upon proceeding. we paddled close to the shore for some miles and then ran before the breeze with reefed sails scarcely two feet in depth. both the canoes received much water and one of them struck twice on sunken rocks. at the end of eighteen miles we halted to breakfast in a bay which i have named after vice-admiral sir william johnstone hope, one of the lords of the admiralty. we found here a considerable quantity of small willows such as are brought down by the rivers we had hitherto seen, and hence we judged that a river discharges itself into the bottom of this bay. a paddle was also found which augustus on examination declared to be made after the fashion of the white goose esquimaux, a tribe with whom his countrymen had had some trading communication as has been mentioned in a former part of the narrative. this morning we passed the embouchure of a pretty large stream and saw the vestiges of an esquimaux encampment not above a month old. having obtained the latitude 68 degrees 6 minutes 40 seconds north we recommenced our voyage under sail, taking the precaution to embark all the pieces of willow we could collect, as we had found the driftwood become more scarce as we advanced. our course was directed to a distant point which we supposed to be a cape, and the land stretching to the westward of it to be islands, but we soon found ourselves in an extensive bay from which no outlet could be perceived but the one by which we had entered. on examination however from the top of a hill we perceived a winding shallow passage running to the north-west which we followed for a short time and then encamped, having come twenty-three miles north by east half east. some articles left by the esquimaux attracted our attention; we found a winter sledge raised upon four stones, with some snow-shovels and a small piece of whalebone. an ice-chisel, a knife and some beads were left at this pile. the shores of this bay, which i have named after sir george warrender, are low and clayey and the country for many miles is level and much intersected with water, but we had not leisure to ascertain whether they were branches of the bay or freshwater lakes. some white geese were seen this evening and some young gray ones were caught on the beach being unable to fly. we fired at two reindeer but without success. on august 14th we paddled the whole day along the northern shores of the sound, returning towards its mouth. the land we were now tracing is generally so flat that it could not be descried from the canoes at the distance of four miles and is invisible from the opposite side of the sound, otherwise a short traverse might have saved us some days. the few eminences that are on this side were mistaken for islands when seen from the opposite shore; they are for the most part cliffs of basalt and are not above one hundred feet high; the subjacent strata are of white sandstone. the rocks are mostly confined to the capes and shores, the soil inland being flat, clayey, and barren. most of the headlands showed traces of visits from the esquimaux but none of them recent. many ducks were seen, belonging to a species termed by the voyagers from their cry caccawees. we also saw some gray geese and swans. the only seal we procured during our voyage was killed this day; it happened to be blind and our men imagining it to be in bad health would not taste the flesh; we however were less nice. we encamped at the end of twenty-four miles' march on the north-west side of the bay to which i have given the name of my friend captain parry, now employed in the interesting research for a north-west passage. driftwood had become very scarce and we found none near the encampment; a fire however was not required as we served out pemmican for supper and the evening was unusually warm. on the following morning the breeze was fresh and the waves rather high. in paddling along the west side of parry's bay we saw several deer but, owing to the openness of the country, the hunters could not approach them. they killed however two swans that were moulting, several cranes and many gray geese. we procured also some caccawees which were then moulting and assembled in immense flocks. in the evening, having rounded point beechy and passed hurd's islands, we were exposed to much inconvenience and danger from a heavy rolling sea, the canoes receiving many severe blows and shipping a good deal of water, which induced us to encamp at five p.m. opposite to cape croker which we had passed on the morning of the 12th; the channel which lay between our situation and it being about seven miles wide. we had now reached the northern point of entrance into this sound which i have named in honour of lord viscount melville, the first lord of the admiralty. it is thirty miles wide from east to west and twenty from north to south, and in coasting it we had sailed eighty-seven and a quarter geographical miles. shortly after the tents were pitched mr. back reported from the steersman that both canoes had sustained material injury during this day's voyage. i found on examination that fifteen timbers of the first canoe were broken, some of them in two places, and that the second canoe was so loose in the frame that its timbers could not be bound in the usual secure manner, and consequently there was danger of its bark separating from the gunwales if exposed to a heavy sea. distressing as were these circumstances they gave me less pain than the discovery that our people, who had hitherto displayed in following us through dangers and difficulties no less novel than appalling to them a courage beyond our expectation, now felt serious apprehensions for their safety which so possessed their minds that they were not restrained even by the presence of their officers from expressing them. their fears we imagined had been principally excited by the interpreters, st. germain and adam, who from the outset had foreboded every calamity; and we now strongly suspected that their recent want of success in hunting had proceeded from an intentional relaxation in their efforts to kill deer in order that the want of provision might compel us to put a period to our voyage. i must now mention that many concurrent circumstances had caused me during the few last days to meditate on the approach of this painful necessity. the strong breezes we had encountered for some days led me to fear that the season was breaking up and severe weather would soon ensue which we could not sustain in a country destitute of fuel. our stock of provision was now reduced to a quantity of pemmican only sufficient for three days' consumption and the prospect of increasing it was not encouraging for, though reindeer were seen, they could not be easily approached on the level shores we were now coasting, besides it was to be apprehended they would soon migrate to the south. it was evident that the time spent in exploring the arctic and melville sounds and bathurst's inlet had precluded the hope of reaching repulse bay, which at the outset of the voyage we had fondly cherished, and it was equally obvious that, as our distance from any of the trading establishments would increase as we proceeded, the hazardous traverse across the barren grounds which we should have to make if compelled to abandon the canoes upon any part of the coast would become greater. i this evening communicated to the officers my sentiments on these points as well as respecting our return and was happy to find that their opinions coincided with my own. we were all convinced of the necessity of putting a speedy termination to our advance as our hope of meeting the esquimaux and procuring provision from them could now scarcely be retained, but yet we were desirous of proceeding until the land should be seen trending again to the eastward, that we might be satisfied of its separation from what we had conceived, in passing from cape barrow to bathurst's inlet, to be a great chain of islands. as it was needful however at all events to set a limit to our voyage i announced my determination of returning after four days' examination, unless indeed we should previously meet the esquimaux and be enabled to make some arrangement for passing the winter with them. this communication was joyfully received by the men and we hoped that the industry of our hunters being once more excited we should be able to add to our stock of provision. it may here be remarked that we observed the first regular return of the tides in warrender's and parry's bays, but their set could not be ascertained. the rise of water did not amount to more than two feet. course today south one quarter east-nine miles and a quarter. august 16. some rain fell in the night but the morning was unusually fine. we set forward at five a.m. and the men paddled cheerfully along the coast for ten miles when a dense fog caused us to land on slate-clay point. here we found more traces of the esquimaux and the skull of a man placed between two rocks. the fog dispersed at noon and we discerned a group of islands to the northward which i have named after vice-admiral sir george cockburn, one of the lords of the admiralty. reembarking we rounded the point and entered walker's bay (so-called after my friend admiral walker) where as in other instances the low beach which lay between several high trap cliffs could not be distinguished until we had coasted down the east side nearly to the bottom of the bay. when the continuity of the land was perceived we crossed to the western shore and on landing discovered a channel leading through a group of islands. having passed through this channel we ran under sail by the porden islands, across riley's bay and, rounding a cape which now bears the name of my lamented friend captain flinders, had the pleasure to find the coast trending north-north-east, with the sea in the offing unusually clear of islands, a circumstance which afforded matter of wonder to our canadians who had not previously had an uninterrupted view of the ocean. our course was continued along the coast until eight p.m. when a change in the wind and a threatening thunder-squall induced us to encamp, but the water was so shallow that we found some difficulty in approaching the shore. large pieces of driftwood gave us assurance that we had finally escaped from the bays. our tents were scarcely pitched before we were assailed by a heavy squall and rain, which was succeeded by a violent gale from west-north-west which thrice overset the tents during the night. the wind blew with equal violence on the following day and the sea rolled furiously upon the beach. the canadians had now an opportunity of witnessing the effect of a storm upon the sea and the sight increased their desire of quitting it. our hunters were sent out and saw many deer but the flatness of the country defeated their attempts to approach them; they brought however a few unfledged geese. as there was no appearance of increasing our stock of provision the allowance was limited to a handful of pemmican and a small portion of portable soup to each man per day. the thermometer this afternoon stood to 41 degrees. the following observations were obtained: latitude 68 degrees 18 minutes 50 seconds north, longitude 110 degrees 5 minutes 15 seconds west, but 109 degrees 25 minutes 00 seconds west was used in the construction of the chart as the chronometers were found, on our return to hood's river, to have altered their rates; variation 44 degrees 15 minutes 46 seconds east and dip of the needle 89 degrees 31 minutes 12 seconds. on august 18th, the stormy weather and sea continuing, there was no prospect of our being able to embark. dr. richardson, mr. back, and i therefore set out on foot to discover whether the land within a day's march inclined more to the east. we went from ten to twelve miles along the coast, which continued flat, and kept the same direction as the encampment. the most distant land we saw had the same bearing north-north-east, and appeared like two islands which we estimated to be six or seven miles off; the shore on their side seemingly tended more to the east so that it is probable point turnagain, for so this spot was named, forms the pitch of a low flat cape. augustus killed a deer in the afternoon but the men were not able to find it. the hunters found the burrows of a number of white foxes and hepburn killed one of these animals, which proved excellent eating, equal to the young geese with which it was boiled and far superior to the lean deer we had upon the coast. large flocks of geese passed over the tents flying to the southward. the lowest temperature today was 38 degrees. though it will appear from the chart that the position of point turnagain is only six degrees and a half to the east of the mouth of the copper-mine river, we sailed, in tracing the deeply-indented coast, five hundred and fifty-five geographical miles, which is little less than the direct distance between the copper-mine river and repulse bay, supposing the latter to be in the longitude assigned to it by middleton. when the many perplexing incidents which occurred during the survey of the coast are considered in connection with the shortness of the period during which operations of the kind can be carried on, and the distance we had to travel before we could gain a place of shelter for the winter, i trust it will be judged that we prosecuted the enterprise as far as was prudent and abandoned it only under a well-founded conviction that a farther advance would endanger the lives of the whole party and prevent the knowledge of what had been done from reaching england. the active assistance i received from the officers in contending with the fears of the men demands my warmest gratitude. observations on the probability of a north-west passage. our researches, as far as they have gone, favour the opinion of those who contend for the practicability of a north-west passage. the general line of coast probably runs east and west, nearly in the latitude assigned to mackenzie's river, the sound into which kotzebue entered, and repulse bay, and i think there is little doubt of a continued sea in or about that line of direction. the existence of whales too on this part of the coast, evidenced by the whalebone we found in esquimaux cove, may be considered as an argument for an open sea; and a connection with hudson's bay is rendered more probable from the same kind of fish abounding on the coasts we visited, and on those to the north of churchill river. i allude more particularly to the capelin or salmo arcticus which we found in large shoals in bathurst's inlet and which not only abounds, as augustus told us, in the bays in his country, but swarms in the greenland firths.* the portion of the sea over which we passed is navigable for vessels of any size; the ice we met, particularly after quitting detention harbour, would not have arrested a strong boat. the chain of islands affords shelter from all heavy seas and there are good harbours at convenient distances. i entertain indeed sanguine hopes that the skill and exertions of my friend captain parry will soon render this question no longer problematical. his task is doubtless an arduous one and if ultimately successful may occupy two and perhaps three seasons but, confiding as i do from personal knowledge in his perseverance and talent for surmounting difficulties, the strength of his ships, and the abundance of provisions with which they are stored, i have very little apprehension of his safety. as i understand his object was to keep the coast of america close on board he will find in the spring of the year, before the breaking up of the ice can permit him to pursue his voyage, herds of deer flocking in abundance to all parts of the coast, which may be procured without difficulty, and even later in the season additions to his stock of provision may be obtained on many parts of the coast, should circumstances give him leisure to send out hunting parties. with the trawl or seine nets also he may almost everywhere get abundance of fish even without retarding his progress. under these circumstances i do not conceive that he runs any hazard of wanting provisions should his voyage be prolonged even beyond the latest period of time which is calculated upon. drift timber may be gathered at many places in considerable quantities and there is a fair prospect of his opening a communication with the esquimaux who come down to the coast to kill seals in the spring previous to the ice breaking up, and from whom, if he succeeds in conciliating their goodwill, he may obtain provision and much useful assistance. (*footnote. arctic zoology volume 2 page 394.) if he makes for copper-mine river, as he probably will do, he will not find it in the longitude as laid down on the charts, but he will probably find what would be more interesting to him, a post which we erected on the 26th august at the mouth of hood's river which is nearly, as will appear hereafter, in that longitude, with a flag upon it and a letter at the foot of it, which may convey to him some useful information. it is possible however that he may keep outside of the range of islands which skirt this part of the coast. chapter 12. journey across the barren grounds. difficulty and delay in crossing copper-mine river. melancholy and fatal results thereof. extreme misery of the whole party. murder of mr. hood. death of several of the canadians. desolate state of fort enterprise. distress suffered at that place. dr. richardson's narrative. mr. back's narrative. conclusion. journey across the barren grounds. august 17, 1821. my original intention, whenever the season should compel us to relinquish the survey, had been to return by the copper-mine river and, in pursuance of my arrangement with the hook, to travel to slave lake through the line of woods extending thither by the great bear and marten lakes, but our scanty stock of provision and the length of the voyage rendered it necessary to make for a nearer place. we had already found that the country between cape barrow and the copper-mine river would not supply our wants, and this it seemed probable would now be still the case, besides at this advanced season we expected the frequent recurrence of gales which would cause great detention if not danger in proceeding along that very rocky part of the coast. i determined therefore to make at once for arctic sound where we had found the animals more numerous than at any other place and, entering hood's river, to advance up that stream as far as it was navigable and then to construct small canoes out of the materials of the larger ones, which could be carried in crossing the barren grounds to fort enterprise. august 19. we were almost beaten out of our comfortless abodes by rain during the night and this morning the gale continued without diminution. the thermometer fell to 33 degrees. two men were sent with junius to search for the deer which augustus had killed. junius returned in the evening, bringing part of the meat but, owing to the thickness of the weather, his companions parted from him and did not make their appearance. divine service was read. on the 20th we were presented with the most chilling prospect, the small pools of water being frozen over, the ground covered with snow, and the thermometer at the freezing-point at midday. flights of geese were passing to the southward. the wind however was more moderate, having changed to the eastward. considerable anxiety prevailing respecting belanger and michel, the two men who strayed from junius yesterday, the rest were sent out to look for them. the search was successful and they all returned in the evening. the stragglers were much fatigued and had suffered severely from the cold, one of them having his thighs frozen and, what under our present circumstances was most grievous, they had thrown away all the meat. the wind during the night returned to the north-west quarter, blew more violently than ever, and raised a very turbulent sea. the next day did not improve our condition, the snow remained on the ground, and the small pools were frozen. our hunters were sent out but they returned after a fatiguing day's march without having seen any animals. we made a scanty meal off a handful of pemmican, after which only half a bag remained. the wind abated after midnight and the surf diminished rapidly, which caused us to be on the alert at a very early hour on the 22nd, but we had to wait until six a.m. for the return of augustus who had continued out all night on an unsuccessful pursuit of deer. it appears that he had walked a few miles further along the coast than the party had done on the 18th and, from a sketch he drew on the sand, we were confirmed in our former opinion that the shore inclined more to the eastward beyond point turnagain. he also drew a river of considerable size that discharges its waters into walker's bay, on the banks of which stream he saw a piece of wood such as the esquimaux use in producing fire, and other marks so fresh that he supposed they had recently visited the spot. we therefore left several iron materials for them and, embarking without delay, prepared to retrace our steps.* our men, cheered by the prospect of returning, showed the utmost alacrity and, paddling with unusual vigour, carried us across riley's and walker's bays, a distance of twenty miles before noon, when we landed on slate-clay point as the wind had freshened too much to permit us to continue the voyage. the whole party went to hunt but returned without success in the evening, drenched with the heavy rain which commenced soon after they had set out. several deer were seen but could not be approached in this naked country and, as our stock of pemmican did not admit of serving out two meals, we went dinnerless to bed. (*footnote. it is a curious coincidence that our expedition left point turnagain on august 22--on the same day that captain parry sailed out of repulse bay. the parties were then distant from each other 539 miles.) soon after our departure this day a sealed tin-case, sufficiently buoyant to float, was thrown overboard, containing a short account of our proceedings and the position of the most conspicuous points. the wind blew off the land, the water was smooth and, as the sea is in this part more free from islands than in any other, there was every probability of its being driven off the shore into the current which, as i have before mentioned, we suppose, from the circumstance of mackenzie's river being the only known stream that brings down the wood we have found along the shores, to set to the eastward. august 23. a severe frost caused us to pass a comfortless night. at two p.m. we set sail and the men voluntarily launched out to make a traverse of fifteen miles across melville sound before a strong wind and heavy sea. the privation of food under which our voyagers were then labouring absorbed every other terror; otherwise the most powerful persuasion could not have induced them to attempt such a traverse. it was with the utmost difficulty that the canoes were kept from turning their broadsides to the waves, though we sometimes steered with all the paddles. one of them narrowly escaped being overset by this accident, which occurred in a mid-channel where the waves were so high that the masthead of our canoe was often hid from the other, though it was sailing within hail. the traverse however was made; we were then near a high rocky lee shore on which a heavy surf was beating. the wind being on the beam, the canoes drifted fast to leeward and, on rounding a point, the recoil of the sea from the rocks was so great that they were with difficulty kept from foundering. we looked in vain for a sheltered bay to land in but at length, being unable to weather another point, we were obliged to put ashore on the open beach which fortunately was sandy at this spot. the debarkation was effected fortunately without further injury than splitting the head of the second canoe, which was easily repaired. our encampment being near the spot where we killed the deer on the 11th, almost the whole party went out to hunt, but returned in the evening without having seen any game. the berries however were ripe and plentiful and with the addition of some country tea furnished a supper. there were some showers in the afternoon and the weather was cold, the thermometer being 42 degrees, but the evening and night were calm and fine. it may be remarked that the mosquitoes disappeared when the late gales commenced. august 24. embarking at three a.m. we stretched across the eastern entrance of bathurst's inlet and arrived at an island which i have named after the right honourable colonel barry of newton barry. some deer being seen on the beach the hunters went in pursuit of them and succeeded in killing three females which enabled us to save our last remaining meal of pemmican. they saw also some fresh tracks of musk-oxen on the banks of a small stream which flowed into a lake in the centre of the island. these animals must have crossed a channel at least three miles wide to reach the nearest of these islands. some specimens of variegated pebbles and jasper were found here embedded in the amygdaloidal rock. reembarking at two p.m. and continuing through what was supposed to be a channel between two islands we found our passage barred by a gravelly isthmus of only ten yards in width; the canoes and cargoes were carried across it and we passed into bathurst's inlet through another similar channel bounded on both sides by steep rocky hills. the wind then changing from south-east to north-west brought heavy rain, and we encamped at seven p.m. having advanced eighteen miles. august 25. starting this morning with a fresh breeze in our favour we soon reached that part of barry's island where the canoes were detained on the 2nd and 3rd of this month and, contrary to what we then experienced, the deer were now plentiful. the hunters killed two and relieved us from all apprehension of immediate want of food. from their assembling at this time in such numbers on the islands nearest to the coast we conjectured that they were about to retire to the main shore. those we saw were generally females with their young and all of them very lean. the wind continued in the same direction until we had rounded point wollaston and then changed to a quarter which enabled us to steer for hood's river, which we ascended as high as the first rapid and encamped. here terminated our voyage on the arctic sea during which we had gone over six hundred and fifty geographical miles. our canadian voyagers could not restrain their joy at having turned their backs on the sea, and passed the evening in talking over their past adventures with much humour and no little exaggeration. the consideration that the most painful, and certainly the most hazardous, part of the journey was yet to come did not depress their spirits at all. it is due to their character to mention that they displayed much courage in encountering the dangers of the sea, magnified to them by their novelty. the shores between cape barrow and cape flinders, including the extensive branches of arctic and melville sounds and bathurst's inlet, may be comprehended in one great gulf which i have distinguished by the appellation of george iv's coronation gulf in honour of his most gracious majesty, the latter name being added to mark the time of its discovery. the archipelago of islands which fringe the coast from copper-mine river to point turnagain i have named in honour of his royal highness the duke of york. it may be deserving of notice that the extremes in temperature of the seawater during our voyage were 53 and 35 degrees, but its general temperature was between 43 and 48 degrees. throughout our return from point turnagain we observed that the sea had risen several feet above marks left at our former encampments. this may perhaps be attributed to the north-west gales. august 26. previous to our departure this morning an assortment of iron materials, beads, looking-glasses, and other articles were put up in a conspicuous situation for the esquimaux and the english union was planted on the loftiest sandhill where it might be seen by any ships passing in the offing. here also was deposited in a tin box a letter containing an outline of our proceedings, the latitude and longitude of the principal places, and the course we intended to pursue towards slave lake. embarking at eight a.m. we proceeded up the river which is full of sandy shoals but sufficiently deep for canoes in the channels. it is from one hundred to two hundred yards wide and is bounded by high and steep banks of clay. we encamped at a cascade of eighteen or twenty feet high which is produced by a ridge of rock crossing the river and the nets were set. a mile below this cascade hood's river is joined by a stream half its own size which i have called james' branch. bear and deer tracks had been numerous on the banks of the river when we were here before but not a single recent one was to be seen at this time. credit however killed a small deer at some distance inland which, with the addition of berries, furnished a delightful repast this evening. the weather was remarkably fine and the temperature so mild that the mosquitoes again made their appearance, but not in any great numbers. our distance made today was not more than six miles. the next morning the net furnished us with ten white-fish and trout. having made a further deposit of ironwork for the esquimaux we pursued our voyage up the river, but the shoals and rapids in this part were so frequent that we walked along the banks the whole day and the crews laboured hard in carrying the canoes thus lightened over the shoals or dragging them up the rapids, yet our journey in a direct line was only about seven miles. in the evening we encamped at the lower end of a narrow chasm through which the river flows for upwards of a mile. the walls of this chasm are upwards of two hundred feet high, quite perpendicular and in some places only a few yards apart. the river precipitates itself into it over a rock, forming two magnificent and picturesque falls close to each other. the upper fall is about sixty feet high and the lower one at least one hundred but perhaps considerably more, for the narrowness of the chasm into which it fell prevented us from seeing its bottom and we could merely discern the top of the spray far beneath our feet. the lower fall is divided into two by an insulated column of rock which rises about forty feet above it. the whole descent of the river at this place probably exceeds two hundred and fifty feet. the rock is very fine felspathose sandstone. it has a smooth surface and a light red colour. i have named these magnificent cascades wilberforce falls as a tribute of my respect for that distinguished philanthropist and christian. messrs. back and hood took beautiful sketches of this majestic scene. the river, being surveyed from the summit of a hill above these falls, appeared so rapid and shallow that it seemed useless to attempt proceeding any farther in the large canoes. i therefore determined on constructing out of their materials two smaller ones of sufficient size to contain three persons for the purpose of crossing any river that might obstruct our progress. this operation was accordingly commenced and by the 31st, both the canoes being finished, we prepared for our departure on the following day. the leather which had been preserved for making shoes was equally divided among the men, two pairs of flannel socks were given to each person, and such articles of warm clothing as remained were issued to those who most required them. they were also furnished with one of the officers' tents. this being done i communicated to the men my intention of proceeding in as direct a course as possible to the part of point lake opposite our spring encampment, which was only distant one hundred and forty-nine miles in a straight line. they received the communication cheerfully, considered the journey to be short, and left me in high spirits to arrange their own packages. the stores, books, etc., which were not absolutely necessary to be carried were then put up in boxes to be left en cache here, in order that the men's burdens might be as light as possible. the next morning was warm and very fine. everyone was on the alert at an early hour, being anxious to commence the journey. our luggage consisted of ammunition, nets, hatchets, ice chisels, astronomical instruments, clothing, blankets, three kettles, and the two canoes, which were each carried by one man. the officers carried such a portion of their own things as their strength would permit; the weight carried by each man was about ninety pounds, and with this we advanced at the rate of about a mile an hour including rests. in the evening the hunters killed a lean cow out of a large drove of musk-oxen; but the men were too much laden to carry more than a small portion of its flesh. the alluvial soil which, towards the mouth of the river, spreads into plains covered with grass and willows, was now giving place to a more barren and hilly country, so that we could but just collect sufficient brushwood to cook our suppers. the part of the river we skirted this day was shallow and flowed over a bed of sand, its width about one hundred and twenty yards. about midnight our tent was blown down by a squall and we were completely drenched with rain before it could be repitched. on the morning of the 1st of september a fall of snow took place; the canoes became a cause of delay from the difficulty of carrying them in a high wind, and they sustained much damage through the falls of those who had charge of them. the face of the country was broken by hills of moderate elevation but the ground was plentifully strewed with small stones which, to men bearing heavy burdens and whose feet were protected only by soft moose-skin shoes, occasioned great pain. at the end of eleven miles we encamped and sent for a musk-ox and a deer which st. germain and augustus had killed. the day was extremely cold, the thermometer varying between 34 and 36 degrees. in the afternoon a heavy fall of snow took place on the wind changing from north-west to south-west. we found no wood at the encampment but made a fire of moss to cook the supper and crept under our blankets for warmth. at sunrise the thermometer was at 31 degrees and the wind fresh from north-west, but the weather became mild in the course of the forenoon and the snow disappeared from the gravel. the afternoon was remarkably fine and the thermometer rose to 50 degrees. one of the hunters killed a musk-ox. the hills in this part are lower and more round-backed than those we passed yesterday, exhibiting but little naked rock; they were covered with lichens. having ascertained from the summit of the highest hill near the tents that the river continued to preserve a west course and, fearing that by pursuing it farther we might lose much time and unnecessarily walk over a great deal of ground, i determined on quitting its banks the next day and making as directly as we could for point lake. we accordingly followed the river on the 3rd only to the place where the musk-ox had been killed last evening and, after the meat was procured, crossed the river in our two canoes lashed together. we now emerged from the valley of the river and entered a level but very barren country, varied only by small lakes and marshes, the ground being covered with small stones. many old tracks of reindeer were seen in the clayey soil and some more recent traces of the musk-ox. we encamped on the borders of wright's river which flows to the eastward, the direct distance walked today being ten miles and three-quarters. the next morning was very fine and as the day advanced the weather became quite warm. we set out at six a.m. and, having forded the river, walked over a perfectly level country interspersed with small lakes which communicated with each other by streams running in various directions. no berry-bearing plants were found in this part, the surface of the earth being thinly covered in the moister places with a few grasses, and on the drier spots with lichens. having walked twelve miles and a half we encamped at seven p.m. and distributed our last piece of pemmican and a little arrowroot for supper which afforded but a scanty meal. this evening was warm but dark clouds overspread the sky. our men now began to find their burdens very oppressive and were much fatigued by this day's march but did not complain. one of them was lame from an inflammation in the knee. heavy rain commenced at midnight and continued without intermission until five in the morning, when it was succeeded by snow on the wind changing to north-west, which soon increased to a violent gale. as we had nothing to eat and were destitute of the means of making a fire, we remained in our beds all the day, but the covering of our blankets was insufficient to prevent us from feeling the severity of the frost and suffering inconvenience from the drifting of the snow into our tents. there was no abatement of the storm next day; our tents were completely frozen and the snow had drifted around them to a depth of three feet, and even in the inside there was a covering of several inches on our blankets. our suffering from cold in a comfortless canvas tent in such weather with the temperature at 20 degrees and without fire will easily be imagined; it was however less than that which we felt from hunger. the morning of the 7th cleared up a little but the wind was still strong and the weather extremely cold. from the unusual continuance of the storm we feared the winter had set in with all its rigour and that by longer delay we should only be exposed to an accumulation of difficulties; we therefore prepared for our journey although we were in a very unfit condition for starting, being weak from fasting and our garments stiffened by the frost. we had no means of making a fire to thaw them, the moss, at all times difficult to kindle, being now covered with ice and snow. a considerable time was consumed in packing up the frozen tents and bed clothes, the wind blowing so strong that no one could keep his hands long out of his mittens. just as we were about to commence our march i was seized with a fainting fit in consequence of exhaustion and sudden exposure to the wind but, after eating a morsel of portable soup, i recovered so far as to be able to move on. i was unwilling at first to take this morsel of soup, which was diminishing the small and only remaining meal for the party, but several of the men urged me to it with much kindness. the ground was covered a foot deep with snow, the margins of the lakes were encrusted with ice, and the swamps over which we had to pass were entirely frozen but the ice, not being sufficiently strong to bear us, we frequently plunged knee-deep in water. those who carried the canoes were repeatedly blown down by the violence of the wind and they often fell from making an insecure step on a slippery stone; on one of these occasions the largest canoe was so much broken as to be rendered utterly unserviceable. this we felt was a serious disaster as the remaining canoe having through mistake been made too small, it was doubtful whether it would be sufficient to carry us across a river. indeed we had found it necessary in crossing hood's river to lash the two canoes together. as there was some suspicion that benoit, who carried the canoe, had broken it intentionally, he having on a former occasion been overheard by some of the men to say that he would do so when he got it in charge, we closely examined him on the point; he roundly denied having used the expressions attributed to him, and insisted that it was broken by his falling accidentally and, as he brought men to attest the latter fact who saw him tumble, we did not press the matter further. i may here remark that our people had murmured a good deal at having to carry two canoes, though they were informed of the necessity of taking both in case it should be deemed advisable to divide the party, which it had been thought probable we should be obliged to do if animals proved scarce, in order to give the whole the better chance of procuring subsistence, and also for the purpose of sending forward some of the best walkers to search for indians and to get them to meet us with supplies of provision. the power of doing this was now at an end. as the accident could not be remedied we turned it to the best account by making a fire of the bark and timbers of the broken vessel and cooked the remainder of our portable soup and arrowroot. this was a scanty meal after three days' fasting but it served to allay the pangs of hunger and enabled us to proceed at a quicker pace than before. the depth of the snow caused us to march in indian file, that is in each other's steps, the voyagers taking it in turn to lead the party. a distant object was pointed out to this man in the direction we wished to take and mr. hood followed immediately behind him to renew the bearings and keep him from deviating more than could be helped from the mark. it may be here observed that we proceeded in this manner throughout our route across the barren grounds. in the afternoon we got into a more hilly country where the ground was strewed with large stones. the surface of these was covered with lichens of the genus gyrophora which the canadians term tripe de roche. a considerable quantity was gathered and with half a partridge each (which we shot in the course of the day) furnished a slender supper which we cooked with a few willows dug up from beneath the snow. we passed a comfortless night in our damp clothes but took the precaution of sleeping upon our socks and shoes to prevent them from freezing. this plan was afterwards adopted throughout the journey. at half-past five in the morning we proceeded and after walking about two miles came to cracroft's river, flowing to the westward with a very rapid current over a rocky channel. we had much difficulty in crossing this, the canoe being useless, not only from the bottom of the channel being obstructed by large stones, but also from its requiring gumming, an operation which, owing to the want of wood and the frost, we were unable to perform. however after following the course of the river some distance we effected a passage by means of a range of large rocks that crossed a rapid. as the current was strong and many of the rocks were covered with water to the depth of two or three feet, the men were exposed to much danger in carrying their heavy burdens across, and several of them actually slipped into the stream but were immediately rescued by the others. junius went farther up the river in search of a better crossing-place and did not rejoin us this day. as several of the party were drenched from head to foot and we were all wet to the middle, our clothes became stiff with the frost and we walked with much pain for the remainder of the day. the march was continued to a late hour from our anxiety to rejoin the hunters who had gone before, but we were obliged to encamp at the end of ten miles and a quarter without seeing them. our only meal today consisted of a partridge each (which the hunters shot) mixed with tripe de roche. this repast, although scanty for men with appetites such as our daily fatigue created, proved a cheerful one and was received with thankfulness. most of the men had to sleep in the open air in consequence of the absence of credit who carried their tent, but we fortunately found an unusual quantity of roots to make a fire, which prevented their suffering much from the cold though the thermometer was at 17 degrees. we started at six on the 9th and at the end of two miles regained our hunters who were halting on the borders of a lake amidst a clump of stunted willows. this lake stretched to the westward as far as we could see and its waters were discharged by a rapid stream one hundred and fifty yards wide. being entirely ignorant where we might be led by pursuing the course of the lake, and dreading the idea of going a mile unnecessarily out of the way, we determined on crossing the river if possible, and the canoe was gummed for the purpose, the willows furnishing us with fire. but we had to await the return of junius before we could make the traverse. in the meantime we gathered a little tripe de roche and breakfasted upon it and a few partridges that were killed in the morning. st. germain and adam were sent upon some recent tracks of deer. junius arrived in the afternoon and informed us that he had seen a large herd of musk-oxen on the banks of cracroft's river, and had wounded one of them but it escaped. he brought about four pounds of meat, the remains of a deer that had been devoured by the wolves. the poor fellow was much fatigued, having walked throughout the night but, as the weather was particularly favourable for our crossing the river, we could not allow him to rest. after he had taken some refreshment we proceeded to the river. the canoe being put into the water was found extremely ticklish, but it was managed with much dexterity by st. germain, adam, and peltier, who ferried over one passenger at a time, causing him to lie flat in its bottom, by no means a pleasant position owing to its leakiness, but there was no alternative. the transport of the whole party was effected by five o'clock and we walked about two miles farther and encamped, having come five miles and three-quarters on a south-west course. two young alpine hares were shot by st. germain which with the small piece of meat brought in by junius furnished the supper of the whole party. there was no tripe de roche here. the country had now become decidedly hilly and was covered with snow. the lake preserved its western direction as far as i could see from the summit of the highest mountain near the encampment. we subsequently learned from the copper indians that the part at which we had crossed the river was the congecathawhachaga of hearne, of which i had little idea at the time, not only from the difference of latitude, but also from its being so much farther east of the mouth of the copper-mine river than his track is laid down, he only making one degree and three-quarters' difference of longitude and we upwards of four. had i been aware of the fact several days' harassing march and a disastrous accident would have been prevented by keeping on the western side of the lake instead of crossing the river. we were informed also that this river is the anatessy or river of strangers and is supposed to fall into bathurst's inlet, but although the indians have visited its mouth their description was not sufficient to identify it with any of the rivers whose mouths we had seen. it probably discharges itself in that part of the coast which was hid from our view by goulbourn's or elliott's islands. september 10. we had a cold north wind and the atmosphere was foggy. the thermometer 18 degrees at five a.m. in the course of our march this morning we passed many small lakes and the ground, becoming higher and more hilly as we receded from the river, was covered to a much greater depth with snow. this rendered walking not only extremely laborious but also hazardous in the highest degree, for the sides of the hills, as is usual throughout the barren grounds, abounding in accumulations of large angular stones, it often happened that the men fell into the interstices with their loads on their backs, being deceived by the smooth appearance of the drifted snow. if anyone had broken a limb here his fate would have been melancholy indeed; we could neither have remained with him nor carried him on. we halted at ten to gather tripe de roche but it was so frozen that we were quite benumbed with cold before a sufficiency could be collected even for a scanty meal. on proceeding our men were somewhat cheered by observing on the sandy summit of a hill, from whence the snow had been blown, the summer track of a man, and afterwards by seeing several deer tracks on the snow. about noon the weather cleared up a little and, to our great joy, we saw a herd of musk-oxen grazing in a valley below us. the party instantly halted and the best hunters were sent out; they approached the animals with the utmost caution, no less than two hours being consumed before they got within gunshot. in the meantime we beheld their proceedings with extreme anxiety, and many secret prayers were doubtless offered up for their success. at length they opened their fire and we had the satisfaction of seeing one of the largest cows fall; another was wounded but escaped. this success infused spirit into our starving party. to skin and cut up the animal was the work of a few minutes. the contents of the stomach were devoured upon the spot, and the raw intestines which were next attacked were pronounced by the most delicate amongst us to be excellent. a few willows whose tops were seen peeping through the snow in the bottom of the valley were quickly grubbed, the tents pitched, and supper cooked and devoured with avidity. this was the sixth day since we had had a good meal, the tripe de roche, even where we got enough, only serving to allay the pangs of hunger for a short time. after supper two of the hunters went in pursuit of the herd but could not get near them. i do not think that we witnessed through the course of our journey a more striking proof of the wise dispensation of the almighty and of the weakness of our own judgment than on this day. we had considered the dense fog which prevailed throughout the morning as almost the greatest inconvenience that could have befallen us, since it rendered the air extremely cold and prevented us from distinguishing any distant object towards which our course could be directed. yet this very darkness enabled the party to get to the top of the hill which bounded the valley wherein the musk-oxen were grazing without being perceived. had the herd discovered us and taken alarm our hunters in their present state of debility would in all probability have failed in approaching them. we were detained all the next day by a strong southerly wind and were much incommoded in the tents by the drift snow. the temperature was 20 degrees. the average for the last ten days about 24 degrees. we restricted ourselves to one meal this day as we were at rest and there was only meat remaining sufficient for the morrow. the gale had not diminished on the 12th and, as we were fearful of its continuance for some time, we determined on going forward; our only doubt regarded the preservation of the canoe, but the men promised to pay particular attention to it, and the most careful persons were appointed to take it in charge. the snow was two feet deep and the ground much broken, which rendered the march extremely painful. the whole party complained more of faintness and weakness than they had ever done before; their strength seemed to have been impaired by the recent supply of animal food. in the afternoon the wind abated and the snow ceased; cheered with the change we proceeded forward at a quicker pace and encamped at six p.m. having come eleven miles. our supper consumed the last of our meat. we set out on the 13th in thick hazy weather and, after an hour's march, had the extreme mortification to find ourselves on the borders of a large lake; neither of its extremities could be seen and, as the portion which lay to the east seemed the widest, we coasted along to the westward portion in search of a crossing-place. this lake being bounded by steep and lofty hills our march was very fatiguing. those sides which were exposed to the sun were free from snow and we found upon them some excellent berries. we encamped at six p.m. having come only six miles and a half. credit was then missing and he did not return during the night. we supped off a single partridge and some tripe de roche; this unpalatable weed was now quite nauseous to the whole party and in several it produced bowel complaints. mr. hood was the greatest sufferer from this cause. this evening we were extremely distressed at discovering that our improvident companions since we left hood's river had thrown away three of the fishing-nets and burnt the floats; they knew we had brought them to procure subsistence for the party when the animals should fail, and we could scarcely believe the fact of their having wilfully deprived themselves of this resource, especially when we considered that most of them had passed the greater part of their servitude in situations where the nets alone had supplied them with food. being thus deprived of our principal resource, that of fishing, and the men evidently getting weaker every day, it became necessary to lighten their burdens of everything except ammunition, clothing, and the instruments that were required to find our way. i therefore issued directions to deposit at this encampment the dipping needle, azimuth compass, magnet, a large thermometer, and a few books we had carried, having torn out of these such parts as we should require to work the observations for latitude and longitude. i also promised, as an excitement to the efforts in hunting, my gun to st. germain, and an ample compensation to adam or any of the other men who should kill any animals. mr. hood on this occasion lent his gun to michel the iroquois, who was very eager in the chase and often successful. september 14. this morning, the officers being assembled round a small fire, perrault presented each of us with a small piece of meat which he had saved from his allowance. it was received with great thankfulness, and such an act of self-denial and kindness being totally unexpected in a canadian voyager filled our eyes with tears. in directing our course to a river issuing from the lake we met credit who communicated the joyful intelligence of his having killed two deer in the morning. we instantly halted and, having shared the deer that was nearest to us, prepared breakfast. after which the other deer was sent for and we went down to the river, which was about three hundred yards wide and flowed with great velocity through a broken rocky channel. having searched for a part where the current was most smooth, the canoe was placed in the water at the head of a rapid, and st. germain, solomon belanger, and i embarked in order to cross. we went from the shore very well, but in mid-channel the canoe became difficult to manage under our burden as the breeze was fresh. the current drove us to the edge of the rapid, when belanger unluckily applied his paddle to avert the apparent danger of being forced down it, and lost his balance. the canoe was overset in consequence in the middle of the rapid. we fortunately kept hold of it until we touched a rock where the water did not reach higher than our waists; here we kept our footing, notwithstanding the strength of the current, until the water was emptied out of the canoe. belanger then held the canoe steady whilst st. germain placed me in it and afterwards embarked himself in a very dexterous manner. it was impossible however to embark belanger, as the canoe would have been hurried down the rapid the moment he should have raised his foot from the rock on which he stood. we were therefore compelled to leave him in his perilous situation. we had not gone twenty yards before the canoe, striking on a sunken rock, went down. the place being shallow we were again enabled to empty it and the third attempt brought us to the shore. in the meantime belanger was suffering extremely, immersed to his middle in the centre of a rapid, the temperature of which was very little above the freezing-point, and the upper part of his body covered with wet clothes, exposed in a temperature not much above zero to a strong breeze. he called piteously for relief and st. germain on his return endeavoured to embark him but in vain. the canoe was hurried down the rapid and when he landed he was rendered by the cold incapable of further exertion and adam attempted to embark belanger but found it impossible. an attempt was next made to carry out to him a line made of the slings of the men's loads. this also failed, the current acting so strongly upon it as to prevent the canoe from steering and it was finally broken and carried down the stream. at length when belanger's strength seemed almost exhausted the canoe reached him with a small cord belonging to one of the nets and he was dragged perfectly senseless through the rapid. by the direction of dr. richardson he was instantly stripped and, being rolled up in blankets, two men undressed themselves and went to bed with him: but it was some hours before he recovered his warmth and sensations. as soon as belanger was placed in his bed the officers sent over my blankets and a person to make a fire. augustus brought the canoe over and in returning he was obliged to descend both the rapids before he could get across the stream, which hazardous service he performed with the greatest coolness and judgment. it is impossible to describe my sensations as i witnessed the various unsuccessful attempts to relieve belanger. the distance prevented my seeing distinctly what was going on and i continued pacing up and down upon the rock on which i landed, regardless of the coldness of my drenched and stiffening garments. the canoe in every attempt to reach him was hurried down the rapid, and was lost to view amongst the rocky islets with a rapidity that seemed to threaten certain destruction; once indeed i fancied that i saw it overwhelmed in the waves. such an event would have been fatal to the whole party. separated as i was from my companions without gun, ammunition, hatchet, or the means of making a fire, and in wet clothes, my doom would have been speedily sealed. my companions too, driven to the necessity of coasting the lake, must have sunk under the fatigue of rounding its innumerable arms and bays which as we have learned from the indians are very extensive. by the goodness of providence however we were spared at that time and some of us have been permitted to offer up our thanksgivings in a civilised land for the signal deliverances we then and afterwards experienced. by this accident i had the misfortune to lose my portfolio containing my journal from fort enterprise together with all the astronomical and meteorological observations made during the descent of the copper-mine river and along the sea-coast (except those for the dip and variation). i was in the habit of carrying it strapped across my shoulders but had taken it off on entering the canoe to reduce the upper weight. the results of most of the observations for latitude and longitude had been registered in the sketch-books so that we preserved the requisites for the construction of the chart. the meteorological observations not having been copied were lost. my companions, dr. richardson, mr. back, and mr. hood, had been so careful in noting every occurrence in their journals that the loss of mine could fortunately be well supplied. these friends immediately offered me their documents and every assistance in drawing up another narrative, of which kindness i availed myself at the earliest opportunity afterwards. september 15. the rest of the party were brought across this morning and we were delighted to find belanger so much recovered as to be able to proceed, but we could not set out until noon as the men had to prepare substitutes for the slings which were lost yesterday. soon after leaving the encampment we discerned a herd of deer and after a long chase a fine male was killed by perrault, several others were wounded but they escaped. after this we passed round the north end of a branch of the lake and ascended the willingham mountains, keeping near the border of the lake. these hills were steep, craggy, and covered with snow. we encamped at seven and enjoyed a substantial meal. the party were in good spirits this evening at the recollection of having crossed the rapid and being in possession of provision for the next day. besides we had taken the precaution of bringing away the skin of the deer to eat when the meat should fail. the temperature at six p.m. was 30 degrees. we started at seven next morning and marched until ten when the appearance of a few willows peeping through the snow induced us to halt and breakfast. recommencing the journey at noon we passed over a more rugged country where the hills were separated by deep ravines whose steep sides were equally difficult to descend and to ascend, and the toil and suffering we experienced were greatly increased. the party was quite fatigued when we encamped, having come ten miles and three-quarters. we observed many summer deer roads and some recent tracks. some marks that had been put up by the indians were also noticed. we have since learned that this is a regular deer pass and, on that account, annually frequented by the copper indians. the lake is called by them contwoyto or rum lake in consequence of mr. hearne having here given the indians who accompanied him some of that liquor. fish is not found here. we walked next day over a more level country but it was strewed with large stones. these galled our feet a good deal; we contrived however to wade through the snow at a tolerably quick pace until five p.m., having proceeded twelve miles and a half. we had made today our proper course south by east which we could not venture upon doing before for fear of falling again upon some branch of the contwoyto. some deer were seen in the morning but the hunters failed of killing any and in the afternoon we fell into the track of a large herd which had passed the day before but did not overtake them. in consequence of this want of success we had no breakfast and but a scanty supper, but we allayed the pangs of hunger by eating pieces of singed hide. a little tripe de roche* was also obtained. these would have satisfied us in ordinary times but we were now almost exhausted by slender fare and travel and our appetites had become ravenous. we looked however with humble confidence to the great author and giver of all good for a continuance of the support which had hitherto been always supplied to us at our greatest need. the thermometer varied today between 25 and 28 degrees. the wind blew fresh from the south. (*footnote. the different kinds of gyrophora are termed indiscriminately by the voyagers tripe de roche.) on the 18th the atmosphere was hazy but the day was more pleasant for walking than usual. the country was level and gravelly and the snow very deep. we went for a short time along a deeply-beaten road made by the reindeer which turned suddenly off to the south-west, a direction so wide of our course that we could not venture upon following it. all the small lakes were frozen and we marched across those which lay in our track. we supped off the tripe de roche which had been gathered during our halts in the course of the march. thermometer at six p.m. 32 degrees. showers of snow fell without intermission through the night but they ceased in the morning and we set out at the usual hour. the men were very faint from hunger and marched with difficulty, having to oppose a fresh breeze and to wade through snow two feet deep. we gained however ten miles by four o'clock and then encamped. the canoe was unfortunately broken by the fall of the person who had it in charge. no tripe de roche was seen today but in clearing the snow to pitch the tents we found a quantity of iceland moss which was boiled for supper. this weed not having been soaked proved so bitter that few of the party could eat more than a few spoonfuls. our blankets did not suffice this evening to keep us in tolerable warmth; the slightest breeze seeming to pierce our debilitated frames. the reader will probably be desirous to know how we passed our time in such a comfortless situation: the first operation after encamping was to thaw our frozen shoes if a sufficient fire could be made, and dry ones were put on; each person then wrote his notes of the daily occurrences and evening prayers were read; as soon as supper was prepared it was eaten, generally in the dark, and we went to bed and kept up a cheerful conversation until our blankets were thawed by the heat of our bodies and we had gathered sufficient warmth to enable us to fall asleep. on many nights we had not even the luxury of going to bed in dry clothes for when the fire was insufficient to dry our shoes we durst not venture to pull them off lest they should freeze so hard as to be unfit to put on in the morning and therefore inconvenient to carry. on the 20th we got into a hilly country and the marching became much more laborious, even the stoutest experienced great difficulty in climbing the craggy eminences. mr. hood was particularly weak and was obliged to relinquish his station of second in the line which dr. richardson now took to direct the leading man in keeping the appointed course. i was also unable to keep pace with the men who put forth their utmost speed, encouraged by the hope which our reckoning had led us to form of seeing point lake in the evening, but we were obliged to encamp without gaining a view of it. we had not seen either deer or their tracks through the day, and this circumstance, joined to the disappointment of not discovering the lake, rendered our voyagers very desponding, and the meagre supper of tripe de roche was little calculated to elevate their spirits. they now threatened to throw away their bundles and quit us, which rash act they would probably have committed if they had known what track to pursue. september 21. we set out at seven this morning in dark foggy weather and changed our course two points to the westward. the party were very feeble and the men much dispirited; we made slow progress, having to march over a hilly and very rugged country. just before noon the sun beamed through the haze for the first time for six days and we obtained an observation in latitude 65 degrees 7 minutes 06 seconds north, which was six miles to the southward of that part of point lake to the way our course was directed. by this observation we discovered that we had kept to the eastward of the proper course, which may be attributed partly to the difficulty of preserving a straight line through an unknown country, unassisted by celestial observations and in such thick weather that our view was often limited to a few hundred yards, but chiefly to our total ignorance of the amount of the variation of the compass. we altered the course immediately to west-south-west and fired guns to apprise the hunters who were out of our view and ignorant of our having done so. after walking about two miles we waited to collect the stragglers. two partridges were killed and these with some tripe de roche furnished our supper. notwithstanding a full explanation was given to the men of the reasons for altering the course, and they were assured that the observation had enabled us to discover our exact distance from fort enterprise, they could not divest themselves of the idea of our having lost our way, and a gloom was spread over every countenance. at this encampment dr. richardson was obliged to deposit his specimens of plants and minerals collected on the sea-coast, being unable to carry them any farther. the way made today was five miles and a quarter. september 22. after walking about two miles this morning we came upon the borders of an extensive lake whose extremities could not be discerned in consequence of the density of the atmosphere but, as its shores seemed to approach nearer to each other to the southward than to the northward, we determined on tracing it in that direction. we were grieved at finding the lake expand very much beyond the contracted part we had first seen and incline to the eastward of south. as however it was considered more than probable, from the direction and size of the body of water we were now tracing, that it was a branch of point lake, and as in any case we knew that by passing round its south end we must shortly come to the copper-mine river, our course was continued in that direction. the appearance of some dwarf pines and willows, larger than usual, induced us to suppose the river was near. we encamped early having come eight miles. our supper consisted of tripe de roche and half a partridge each. our progress next day was extremely slow from the difficulty of managing the canoe in passing over the hills as the breeze was fresh. peltier, who had it in charge, having received several severe falls, became impatient and insisted on leaving his burden as it had already been much injured by the accidents of this day, and no arguments we could use were sufficient to prevail on him to continue carrying it. vaillant was therefore directed to take it and we proceeded forward. having found that he got on very well and was walking even faster than mr. hood could follow in his present debilitated state, i pushed forward to stop the rest of the party who had got out of sight during the delay which the discussion respecting the canoe had occasioned. i accidentally passed the body of the men and followed the tracks of two persons who had separated from the rest until two p.m. when, not seeing any person, i retraced my steps, and on my way met dr. richardson who had also missed the party whilst he was employed gathering tripe de roche, and we went back together in search of them. we found they had halted among some willows where they had picked up some pieces of skin and a few bones of deer that had been devoured by the wolves last spring. they had rendered the bones friable by burning and eaten them as well as the skin; and several of them had added their old shoes to the repast. peltier and vaillant were with them, having left the canoe which they said was so completely broken by another fall as to be rendered incapable of repair and entirely useless. the anguish this intelligence occasioned may be conceived but it is beyond my power to describe it. impressed however with the necessity of taking it forward, even in the state these men represented it to be, we urgently desired them to fetch it, but they declined going and the strength of the officers was inadequate to the task. to their infatuated obstinacy on this occasion a great portion of the melancholy circumstances which attended our subsequent progress may perhaps be attributed. the men now seemed to have lost all hope of being preserved and all the arguments we could use failed in stimulating them to the least exertion. after consuming the remains of the bones and horns of the deer we resumed our march, and in the evening reached a contracted part of the lake which, perceiving it to be shallow, we forded and encamped on the opposite side. heavy rain began soon afterwards and continued all night. on the following morning the rain had so wasted the snow that the tracks of mr. back and his companions, who had gone before with the hunters, were traced with difficulty, and the frequent showers during the day almost obliterated them. the men became furious at the apprehension of being deserted by the hunters and some of the strongest, throwing down their bundles, prepared to set out after them, intending to leave the more weak to follow as they could. the entreaties and threats of the officers however prevented their executing this mad scheme, but not before solomon belanger was despatched with orders for mr. back to halt until we should join him. soon afterwards a thick fog came on, but we continued our march and overtook mr. back, who had been detained in consequence of his companions having followed some recent tracks of deer. after halting an hour, during which we refreshed ourselves with eating our old shoes and a few scraps of leather, we set forward in the hope of ascertaining whether an adjoining piece of water was the copper-mine river or not, but were soon compelled to return and encamp for fear of a separation of the party, as we could not see each other at ten yards' distance. the fog diminishing towards evening, augustus was sent to examine the water but, having lost his way, he did not reach the tents before midnight when he brought the information of its being a lake. we supped upon tripe de roche and enjoyed a comfortable fire, having found some pines seven or eight feet high in a valley near the encampment. the bounty of providence was most seasonably manifested to us next morning in our killing five small deer out of a herd which came in sight as we were on the point of starting. this unexpected supply reanimated the drooping spirits of our men and filled every heart with gratitude. the voyagers instantly petitioned for a day's rest which we were most reluctant to grant, being aware of the importance of every moment at this critical period of our journey. but they so earnestly and strongly pleaded their recent sufferings and their conviction that the quiet enjoyment of two substantial meals after eight days' famine would enable them to proceed next day more vigorously, that we could not resist their entreaties. the flesh, the skins, and even the contents of the stomachs of the deer were equally distributed among the party by mr. hood who had volunteered, on the departure of mr. wentzel, to perform the duty of issuing the provision. this invidious task he had all along performed with great impartiality, but seldom without producing some grumbling amongst the canadians, and on the present occasion the hunters were displeased that the heads and some other parts had not been added to their portions. it is proper to remark that mr. hood always took the smallest portion for his own mess, but this weighed little with these men as long as their own appetites remained unsatisfied. we all suffered much inconvenience from eating animal food after our long abstinence, but particularly those men who indulged themselves beyond moderation. the canadians, with their usual thoughtlessness, had consumed above a third of their portions of meat that evening. we set out early on the 26th and, after walking about three miles along the lake, came to the river which we at once recognised from its size to be the copper-mine. it flowed to the northward and, after winding about five miles terminated in point lake. its current was swift, and there were two rapids in this part of its course which in a canoe we could have crossed with ease and safety. these rapids, as well as every other part of the river, were carefully examined in search of a ford but, finding none, the expedients occurred of attempting to cross on a raft made of the willows which were growing there, or in a vessel framed with willows and covered with the canvas of the tents, but both these schemes were abandoned through the obstinacy of the interpreters and the most experienced voyagers, who declared that they would prove inadequate to the conveyance of the party and that much time would be lost in the attempt. the men in fact did not believe that this was the copper-mine river and, so little confidence had they in our reckoning, and so much had they bewildered themselves on the march, that some of them asserted it was hood's river and others that it was the bethetessy. (a river which rises from a lake to the northward of rum lake and holds a course to the sea parallel with that of the copper-mine.) in short their despondency had returned, and they all despaired of seeing fort enterprise again. however the steady assurances of the officers that we were actually on the banks of the copper-mine river, and that the distance to fort enterprise did not exceed forty miles, made some impression upon them, which was increased upon our finding some bear-berry plants (arbutus uva ursi) which are reported by the indians not to grow to the eastward of that river. they then deplored their folly and impatience in breaking the canoe, being all of opinion that had it not been so completely demolished on the 23rd it might have been repaired sufficiently to take the party over. we again closely interrogated peltier and vaillant as to its state, with the intention of sending for it; but they persisted in the declaration that it was in a totally unserviceable condition. st. germain, being again called upon to endeavour to construct a canoe frame with willows, stated that he was unable to make one sufficiently large. it became necessary therefore to search for pines of sufficient size to form a raft and, being aware that such trees grow on the borders of point lake, we considered it best to trace its shores in search of them; we therefore resumed our march, carefully looking but in vain for a fordable part, and encamped at the east end of point lake. as there was little danger of our losing the path of our hunters whilst we coasted the shores of this lake i determined on again sending mr. back forward with the interpreters to hunt. i had in view in this arrangement the further object of enabling mr. back to get across the lake with two of these men to convey the earliest possible account of our situation to the indians. accordingly i instructed him to halt at the first pines he should come to and then prepare a raft and, if his hunters had killed animals so that the party could be supported whilst we were making our raft, he was to cross immediately with st. germain and beauparlant and send the indians to us as quickly as possible with supplies of meat. we had this evening the pain of discovering that two of our men had stolen part of the officers' provision which had been allotted to us with strict impartiality. this conduct was the more reprehensible as it was plain that we were suffering even in a greater degree than themselves from the effects of famine, owing to our being of a less robust habit and less accustomed to privations. we had no means of punishing this crime but by the threat that they should forfeit their wages, which had now ceased to operate. mr. back and his companions set out at six in the morning and we started at seven. as the snow had entirely disappeared and there were no means of distinguishing the footsteps of stragglers, i gave strict orders previously to setting out for all the party to keep together, and especially i desired the two esquimaux not to leave us, they having often strayed in search of the remains of animals. our people however, through despondency, had become careless and disobedient and had ceased to dread punishment or hope for reward. much time was lost in halting and firing guns to collect them, but the labour of walking was so much lightened by the disappearance of the snow that we advanced seven or eight miles along the lake before noon, exclusive of the loss of distance in rounding its numerous bays. at length we came to an arm running away to the north-east and apparently connected with the lake which we had coasted on the 22nd, 23rd and 24th of the month. the idea of again rounding such an extensive piece of water and of travelling over so barren a country was dreadful, and we feared that other arms equally large might obstruct our path, and that the strength of the party would entirely fail long before we could reach the only part where we were certain of finding wood, distant in a direct line twenty-five miles. while we halted to consider of this subject and to collect the party, the carcass of a deer was discovered in the cleft of a rock into which it had fallen in the spring. it was putrid but little less acceptable to us on that account in our present circumstances and, a fire being kindled, a large portion was devoured on the spot, affording us an unexpected breakfast for, in order to husband our small remaining portion of meat we had agreed to make only one scanty meal a day. the men, cheered by this unlooked-for supply, became sanguine in the hope of being able to cross the stream on a raft of willows, although they had before declared such a project impracticable, and they unanimously entreated us to return back to the rapid, a request which accorded with our own opinion and was therefore acceded to. credit and junius however were missing, and it was also necessary to send notice of our intention to mr. back and his party. augustus, being promised a reward, undertook the task and we agreed to wait for him at the rapid. it was supposed he could not fail meeting with the two stragglers on his way to or from mr. back, as it was likely they would keep on the borders of the lake. he accordingly set out after mr. back whilst we returned about a mile towards the rapid and encamped in a deep valley amongst some large willows. we supped on the remains of the putrid deer and the men, having gone to the spot where it was found, scraped together the contents of its intestines which were scattered on the rock and added them to their meal. we also enjoyed the luxury today of eating a large quantity of excellent blueberries and cranberries (vaccinium uliginosum and v. vitis idaea) which were laid bare by the melting of the snow, but nothing could allay our inordinate appetites. in the night we heard the report of credit's gun in answer to our signal muskets, and he rejoined us in the morning, but we got no intelligence of junius. we set out about an hour after daybreak, and encamped at two p.m. between the rapids where the river was about one hundred and thirty yards wide, being its narrowest part. difficulty and delay in crossing copper-mine river. eight deer were seen by michel and credit who loitered behind the rest of the party, but they could not approach them. a great many shots were fired by those in the rear at partridges but they missed, or at least did not choose to add what they killed to the common stock. we subsequently learned that the hunters often secreted the partridges they shot and ate them unknown to the officers. some tripe de roche was collected which we boiled for supper with the moiety of the remainder of our deer's meat. the men commenced cutting the willows for the construction of the raft. as an incitement to exertion i promised a reward of three hundred livres to the first person who should convey a line across the river by which the raft could be managed in transporting the party. melancholy and fatal results thereof. september 29. strong south-east winds with fog in the morning, more moderate in the evening. temperature of the rapid 38 degrees. the men began at an early hour to bind the willows in fagots for the construction of the raft, and it was finished by seven but, as the willows were green, it proved to be very little buoyant, and was unable to support more than one man at a time. even on this however we hoped the whole party might be transported by hauling it from one side to the other, provided a line could be carried to the other bank. several attempts were made by belanger and benoit, the strongest men of the party, to convey the raft across the stream, but they failed for want of oars. a pole constructed by tying the tent poles together was too short to reach the bottom at a short distance from the shore, and a paddle which had been carried from the sea-coast by dr. richardson did not possess sufficient power to move the raft in opposition to a strong breeze which blew from the other side. all the men suffered extremely from the coldness of the water in which they were necessarily immersed up to the waists in their endeavours to aid belanger and benoit and, having witnessed repeated failures, they began to consider the scheme as hopeless. at this time dr. richardson, prompted by a desire of relieving his suffering companions, proposed to swim across the stream with a line and to haul the raft over. he launched into the stream with the line round his middle but when he had got a short distance from the bank his arms became benumbed with cold and he lost the power of moving them; still he persevered and, turning on his back, had nearly gained the opposite bank when his legs also became powerless and, to our infinite alarm, we beheld him sink. we instantly hauled upon the line and he came again on the surface and was gradually drawn ashore in an almost lifeless state. being rolled up in blankets he was placed before a good fire of willows and fortunately was just able to speak sufficiently to give some slight directions respecting the manner of treating him. he recovered strength gradually and through the blessing of god was enabled in the course of a few hours to converse and by the evening was sufficiently recovered to remove into the tent. we then regretted to learn that the skin of his whole left side was deprived of feeling in consequence of exposure to too great heat. he did not perfectly recover the sensation of that side until the following summer. i cannot describe what everyone felt at beholding the skeleton which the doctor's debilitated frame exhibited. when he stripped the canadians simultaneously exclaimed "ah! que nous sommes maigres!" i shall best explain his state and that of the party by the following extract from his journal: "it may be worthy of remark that i should have had little hesitation in any former period of my life at plunging into water even below 38 degrees fahrenheit, but at this time i was reduced almost to skin and bone and, like the rest of the party, suffered from degrees of cold that would have been disregarded in health and vigour. during the whole of our march we experienced that no quantity of clothing would keep us warm whilst we fasted, but on those occasions on which we were enabled to go to bed with full stomachs we passed the night in a warm and comfortable manner." in following the detail of our friend's narrow escape i have omitted to mention that when he was about to step into the water he put his foot on a dagger which cut him to the bone, but this misfortune could not stop him from attempting the execution of his generous undertaking. in the evening augustus came in. he had walked a day and a half beyond the place from whence we turned back but had neither seen junius nor mr. back. of the former he had seen no traces but he had followed the tracks of mr. back's party for a considerable distance until the hardness of the ground rendered them imperceptible. junius was well equipped with ammunition, blankets, knives, a kettle, and other necessaries; and it was the opinion of augustus that when he found he could not rejoin the party he would endeavour to gain the woods on the west end of point lake and follow the river until he fell in with the esquimaux who frequent its mouth. the indians too with whom we have since conversed upon this subject are confident that he would be able to subsist himself during the winter. credit on his hunting excursion today found a cap which our people recognised to belong to one of the hunters who had left us in the spring. this circumstance produced the conviction of our being on the banks of the copper-mine river which all the assertions of the officers had hitherto failed in effecting with some of the party, and it had the happy consequence of reviving their spirits considerably. we consumed the last of our deer's meat this evening at supper. next morning the men went out in search of dry willows and collected eight large fagots with which they formed a more buoyant raft than the former but, the wind being still adverse and strong, they delayed attempting to cross until a more favourable opportunity. pleased however with the appearance of this raft they collected some tripe de roche and made a cheerful supper. dr. richardson was gaining strength but his leg was much swelled and very painful. an observation for latitude placed the encampment in 65 degrees 00 minutes 00 seconds north, the longitude being 112 degrees 20 minutes 00 seconds west, deduced from the last observation. on the morning of the 1st of october the wind was strong and the weather as unfavourable as before for crossing on the raft. we were rejoiced to see mr. back and his party in the afternoon. they had traced the lake about fifteen miles farther than we did and found it undoubtedly connected, as we had supposed, with the lake we fell in with on the 22nd of september and, dreading as we had done, the idea of coasting its barren shores, they returned to make an attempt at crossing here. st. germain now proposed to make a canoe of the fragments of painted canvas in which we wrapped our bedding. this scheme appearing practicable, a party was sent to our encampment of the 24th and 25th last to collect pitch amongst the small pines that grew there to pay over the seams of the canoe. in the afternoon we had a heavy fall of snow which continued all night. a small quantity of tripe de roche was gathered and credit, who had been hunting, brought in the antlers and back bone of a deer which had been killed in the summer. the wolves and birds of prey had picked them clean but there still remained a quantity of the spinal marrow which they had not been able to extract. this, although putrid, was esteemed a valuable prize and the spine being divided into portions was distributed equally. after eating the marrow, which was so acrid as to excoriate the lips, we rendered the bones friable by burning and ate them also. on the following morning the ground was covered with snow to the depth of a foot and a half and the weather was very stormy. these circumstances rendered the men again extremely despondent; a settled gloom hung over their countenances and they refused to pick tripe de roche, choosing rather to go entirely without eating than to make any exertion. the party which went for gum returned early in the morning without having found any, but st. germain said he could still make the canoe with the willows covered with canvas, and removed with adam to a clump of willows for that purpose. mr. back accompanied them to stimulate his exertion as we feared the lowness of his spirits would cause him to be slow in his operations. augustus went to fish at the rapid but, a large trout having carried away his bait, we had nothing to replace it. the snow-storm continued all the night and during the forenoon of the 3rd. having persuaded the people to gather some tripe de roche i partook of a meal with them and afterwards set out with the intention of going to st. germain to hasten his operations, but though he was only three-quarters of a mile distant i spent three hours in a vain attempt to reach him, my strength being unequal to the labour of wading through the deep snow, and i returned quite exhausted and much shaken by the numerous falls i had got. my associates were all in the same debilitated state and poor hood was reduced to a perfect shadow from the severe bowel complaints which the tripe de roche never failed to give him. back was so feeble as to require the support of a stick in walking, and dr. richardson had lameness superadded to weakness. the voyagers were somewhat stronger than ourselves but more indisposed to exertion on account of their despondency. the sensation of hunger was no longer felt by any of us, yet we were scarcely able to converse upon any other subject than the pleasures of eating. we were much indebted to hepburn at this crisis. the officers were unable from weakness to gather tripe de roche themselves and samandre, who had acted as our cook on the journey from the coast, sharing in the despair of the rest of the canadians, refused to make the slightest exertion. hepburn on the contrary, animated by a firm reliance on the beneficence of the supreme being, tempered with resignation to his will, was indefatigable in his exertions to serve us and daily collected all the tripe de roche that was used in the officers' mess. mr. hood could not partake of this miserable fare, and a partridge which had been reserved for him was i lament to say this day stolen by one of the men. october 4. the canoe being finished it was brought to the encampment and, the whole party being assembled in anxious expectation on the beach, st. germain embarked and, amidst our prayers for his success, succeeded in reaching the opposite shore. the canoe was then drawn back again and another person transported, and in this manner, by drawing it backwards and forwards, we were all conveyed over without any serious accident. by these frequent traverses the canoe was materially injured, and latterly it filled each time with water before reaching the shore, so that all our garments and bedding were wet and there was not a sufficiency of willows upon the side on which we now were to make a fire to dry them. that no time might be lost in procuring relief i immediately despatched mr. back with st. germain, solomon belanger, and beauparlant to search for the indians, directing him to go to fort enterprise where we expected they would be or where at least a note from mr. wentzel would be found to direct us in our search for them. if st. germain should kill any animals on his way a portion of the meat was to be put up securely for us and conspicuous marks placed over it. it is impossible to imagine a more gratifying change than was produced in our voyagers after we were all safely landed on the southern banks of the river. their spirits immediately revived, each of them shook the officers cordially by the hand and declared they now considered the worst of their difficulties over as they did not doubt of reaching fort enterprise in a few days, even in their feeble condition. we had indeed every reason to be grateful and our joy would have been complete had it not been mingled with sincere regret at the separation of our poor esquimaux, the faithful junius. extreme misery of the whole party. the want of tripe de roche caused us to go supperless to bed. showers of snow fell frequently during the night. the breeze was light next morning, the weather cold and clear. we were all on foot by daybreak but, from the frozen state of our tents and bedclothes, it was long before the bundles could be made and as usual the men lingered over a small fire they had kindled so that it was eight o'clock before we started. our advance from the depth of the snow was slow, and about noon, coming to a spot where there was some tripe de roche, we stopped to collect it and breakfasted. mr. hood, who was now very feeble, and dr. richardson, who attached himself to him, walked together at a gentle pace in the rear of the party. i kept with the foremost men to cause them to halt occasionally until the stragglers came up. resuming our march after breakfast we followed the track of mr. back's party and encamped early as all of us were much fatigued, particularly credit who, having today carried the men's tent, it being his turn so to do, was so exhausted that when he reached the encampment he was unable to stand. the tripe de roche disagreed with this man and with vaillant in consequence of which they were the first whose strength totally failed. we had a small quantity of this weed in the evening and the rest of our supper was made up of scraps of roasted leather. the distance walked today was six miles. as credit was very weak in the morning his load was reduced to little more than his personal luggage, consisting of his blanket, shoes and gun. previous to setting out the whole party ate the remains of their old shoes and whatever scraps of leather they had to strengthen their stomachs for the fatigue of the day's journey. we left the encampment at nine and pursued our route over a range of black hills. the wind, having increased to a strong gale in the course of the morning, became piercingly cold and the drift rendered it difficult for those in the rear to follow the track over the heights, whilst in the valleys where it was sufficiently marked from the depth of the snow the labour of walking was proportionably great. those in advance made as usual frequent halts, yet being unable from the severity of the weather to remain long still they were obliged to move on before the rear could come up and the party of course straggled very much. about noon, samandre coming up, informed us that credit and vaillant could advance no farther. some willows being discovered in a valley near us i proposed to halt the party there whilst dr. richardson went back to visit them. i hoped too that when the sufferers received the information of a fire being kindled at so short a distance they would be cheered, and use their utmost efforts to reach it, but this proved a vain hope. the doctor found vaillant about a mile and a half in the rear, much exhausted with cold and fatigue. having encouraged him to advance to the fire, after repeated solicitations he made the attempt, but fell down amongst the deep snow at every step. leaving him in this situation the doctor went about half a mile farther back to the spot where credit was said to have halted and, the track being nearly obliterated by the snowdrift, it became unsafe for him to go farther. returning he passed vaillant who, having moved only a few yards in his absence, had fallen down, was unable to rise, and could scarcely answer his questions. being unable to afford him any effectual assistance he hastened on to inform us of his situation. when j.b. belanger had heard the melancholy account he went immediately to aid vaillant and bring up his burden. respecting credit we were informed by samandre that he had stopped a short distance behind vaillant, but that his intention was to return to the encampment of the preceding evening. when belanger came back with vaillant's load he informed us that he had found him lying on his back, benumbed with cold and incapable of being roused. the stoutest men of the party were now earnestly entreated to bring him to the fire, but they declared themselves unequal to the task, and on the contrary urged me to allow them to throw down their loads and proceed to fort enterprise with the utmost speed. a compliance with their desire would have caused the loss of the whole party, for the men were totally ignorant of the course to be pursued, and none of the officers who could have directed the march were sufficiently strong to keep up at the pace they would then walk, besides, even supposing them to have found their way, the strongest men would certainly have deserted the weak. something however was absolutely necessary to be done to relieve them as much as possible from their burdens, and the officers consulted on the subject. mr. hood and dr. richardson proposed to remain behind with a single attendant at the first place where sufficient wood and tripe de roche should be found for ten days' consumption, and that i should proceed as expeditiously as possible with the men to the house and thence send them immediate relief. they strongly urged that this arrangement would contribute to the safety of the rest of the party by relieving them from the burden of a tent and several other articles, and that they might afford aid to credit if he should unexpectedly come up. i was distressed beyond description at the thought of leaving them in such a dangerous situation and for a long time combated their proposal, but they strenuously urged that this step afforded the only chance of safety for the party and i reluctantly acceded to it. the ammunition, of which we had a small barrel, was also to be left with them, and it was hoped that this deposit would be a strong inducement for the indians to venture across the barren grounds to their aid. we communicated this resolution to the men who were cheered at the slightest prospect of alleviation to their present miseries and promised with great appearance of earnestness to return to those officers upon the first supply of food. the party then moved on; vaillant's blanket and other necessaries were left in the track at the request of the canadians, without any hope however of his being able to reach them. after marching till dusk without seeing a favourable place for encamping, night compelled us to take shelter under the lee of a hill amongst some willows, with which, after many attempts, we at length made a fire. it was not sufficient however to warm the whole party, much less to thaw our shoes, and the weather not permitting the gathering of tripe de roche we had nothing to cook. the painful retrospection of the melancholy events of the day banished sleep, and we shuddered as we contemplated the dreadful effects of this bitterly cold night on our two companions, if still living. some faint hopes were entertained of credit's surviving the storm as he was provided with a good blanket and had leather to eat. the weather was mild next morning. we left the encampment at nine and at a little before noon came to a pretty extensive thicket of small willows near which there appeared a supply of tripe de roche on the face of the rocks. at this place dr. richardson and mr. hood determined to remain with john hepburn who volunteered to stop with them. the tent was securely pitched, a few willows collected, and the ammunition and all other articles were deposited, except each man's clothing, one tent, a sufficiency of ammunition for the journey, and the officers' journals. i had only one blanket which was carried for me and two pair of shoes. the offer was now made for any of the men who felt themselves too weak to proceed to remain with the officers but none of them accepted it. michel alone felt some inclination to do so. after we had united in thanksgiving and prayers to almighty god i separated from my companions, deeply afflicted that a train of melancholy circumstances should have demanded of me the severe trial of parting in such a condition from friends who had become endeared to me by their constant kindness and cooperation, and a participation of numerous sufferings. this trial i could not have been induced to undergo but for the reasons they had so strongly urged the day before, to which my own judgment assented and for the sanguine hope i felt of either finding a supply of provision at fort enterprise or meeting the indians in the immediate vicinity of that place, according to my arrangements with mr. wentzel and akaitcho. previously to our starting peltier and benoit repeated their promises to return to them with provision if any should be found at the house or to guide the indians to them if any were met. greatly as mr. hood was exhausted, and indeed incapable as he must have proved of encountering the fatigue of our very next day's journey, so that i felt his resolution to be prudent, i was sensible that his determination to remain was chiefly prompted by the disinterested and generous wish to remove impediments to the progress of the rest. dr. richardson and hepburn, who were both in a state of strength to keep pace with the men besides, this motive which they shared with him, were influenced in their resolution to remain, the former by the desire which had distinguished his character throughout the expedition of devoting himself to the succour of the weak, and the latter by the zealous attachment he had ever shown towards his officers. we set out without waiting to take any of the tripe de roche and, walking at a tolerable pace, in an hour arrived at a fine group of pines about a mile and a quarter from the tent. we sincerely regretted not having seen these before we separated from our companions as they would have been better supplied with fuel here and there appeared to be more tripe de roche than where we had left them. descending afterwards into a more level country we found the snow very deep and the labour of wading through it so fatigued the whole party that we were compelled to encamp after a march of four miles and a half. belanger and michel were left far behind and when they arrived at the encampment appeared quite exhausted. the former, bursting into tears, declared his inability to proceed and begged me to let him go back next morning to the tent and shortly afterwards michel made the same request. i was in hopes they might recover a little strength by the night's rest and therefore deferred giving any permission until morning. the sudden failure in the strength of these men cast a gloom over the rest, which i tried in vain to remove by repeated assurances that the distance to fort enterprise was short and that we should in all probability reach it in four days. not being able to find any tripe de roche we drank an infusion of the labrador tea plant (ledum palustre) and ate a few morsels of burnt leather for supper. we were unable to raise the tent and found its weight too great to carry it on; we therefore cut it up and took a part of the canvas for a cover. the night was bitterly cold and though we lay as close to each other as possible, having no shelter, we could not keep ourselves sufficiently warm to sleep. a strong gale came on after midnight which increased the severity of the weather. in the morning belanger and michel renewed their request to be permitted to go back to the tent, assuring me they were still weaker than on the preceding evening and less capable of going forward, and they urged that the stopping at a place where there was a supply of tripe de roche was their only chance of preserving life; under these circumstances i could not do otherwise than yield to their desire. i wrote a note to dr. richardson and mr. hood informing them of the pines we had passed and recommending their removing thither. having found that michel was carrying a considerable quantity of ammunition i desired him to divide it among my party, leaving him only ten balls and a little shot to kill any animals he might meet on his way to the tent. this man was very particular in his inquiries respecting the direction of the house and the course we meant to pursue; he also said that if he should be able he would go and search for vaillant and credit; and he requested my permission to take vaillant's blanket if he should find it, to which i agreed and mentioned it in my notes to the officers. scarcely were these arrangements finished before perrault and fontano were seized with a fit of dizziness and betrayed other symptoms of extreme debility. some tea was quickly prepared for them and after drinking it and eating a few morsels of burnt leather they recovered and expressed their desire to go forward, but the other men, alarmed at what they had just witnessed, became doubtful of their own strength and, giving way to absolute dejection, declared their inability to move. i now earnestly pressed upon them the necessity of continuing our journey as the only means of saving their own lives as well as those of our friends at the tent, and after much entreaty got them to set out at ten a.m. belanger and michel were left at the encampment and proposed to start shortly afterwards. by the time we had gone about two hundred yards perrault became again dizzy and desired us to halt which we did until he, recovering, offered to march on. ten minutes more had hardly elapsed before he again desired us to stop and, bursting into tears, declared he was totally exhausted and unable to accompany us farther. as the encampment was not more than a quarter of a mile distant we recommended that he should return to it and rejoin belanger and michel whom we knew to be still there from perceiving the smoke of a fresh fire, and because they had not made any preparation for starting when we quitted them. he readily acquiesced in the proposition and, having taken a friendly leave of each of us, and enjoined us to make all the haste we could in sending relief, he turned back, keeping his gun and ammunition. we watched him until he was nearly at the fire and then proceeded. during these detentions augustus becoming impatient of the delay had walked on and we lost sight of him. the labour we experienced in wading through the deep snow induced us to cross a moderate-sized lake which lay in our track, but we found this operation far more harassing. as the surface of the ice was perfectly smooth we slipped at almost every step and were frequently blown down by the wind with such force as to shake our whole frames. poor fontano was completely exhausted by the labour of this traverse and we made a halt until his strength was recruited, by which time the party was benumbed with cold. proceeding again he got on tolerably well for a little time but, being again seized with faintness and dizziness, he fell often and at length exclaimed that he could go no farther. we immediately stopped and endeavoured to encourage him to persevere until we should find some willows to encamp; he insisted however that he could not march any longer through this deep snow, and said that, if he should even reach our encampment this evening, he must be left there, provided tripe de roche could not be procured to recruit his strength. the poor man was overwhelmed with grief and seemed desirous to remain at that spot. we were about two miles from the place where the other men had been left and, as the track to it was beaten, we proposed to him to return thither as we thought it probable he would find the men still there; at any rate he would be able to get fuel to keep him warm during the night, and on the next day he could follow their track to the officers' tent and, should the path be covered by the snow, the pines we had passed yesterday would guide him as they were yet in view. i cannot describe my anguish on the occasion of separating from another companion under circumstances so distressing. there was however no alternative. the extreme debility of the rest of the party put the carrying him quite out of the question, as he himself admitted, and it was evident that the frequent delays he must occasion if he accompanied us and did not gain strength would endanger the lives of the whole. by returning he had the prospect of getting to the tent where tripe de roche could be obtained, which agreed with him better than with any other of the party, and which he was always very assiduous in gathering. after some hesitation he determined on going back and set out, having bid each of us farewell in the tenderest manner. we watched him with inexpressible anxiety for some time, and were rejoiced to find, though he got on slowly, that he kept on his legs better than before. antonio fontano was an italian and had served for many years in de meuron's regiment. he had spoken to me that very morning and after his first attack of dizziness about his father, and had begged that, should he survive, i would take him with me to england and put him in the way of reaching home. the party was now reduced to five persons, adam, peltier, benoit, samandre and myself. continuing the journey we came after an hour's walk to some willows and encamped under the shelter of a rock, having walked in the whole four miles and a half. we made an attempt to gather some tripe de roche but could not, owing to the severity of the weather. our supper therefore consisted of tea and a few morsels of leather. augustus did not make his appearance but we felt no alarm at his absence, supposing he would go to the tent if he missed our track. having fire we procured a little sleep. next morning the breeze was light and the weather mild which enabled us to collect some tripe de roche and to enjoy the only meal we had had for four days. we derived great benefit from it and walked with considerably more ease than yesterday. without the strength it supplied we should certainly have been unable to oppose the strong breeze we met in the afternoon. after walking about five miles we came upon the borders of marten lake and were rejoiced to find it frozen so that we could continue our course straight for fort enterprise. we encamped at the first rapid in winter river amidst willows and alders, but these were so frozen and the snow fell so thick that the men had great difficulty in making a fire. this proving insufficient to warm us or even thaw our shoes, and having no food to prepare, we crept under our blankets. the arrival in a well-known part raised the spirits of the men to a high pitch, and we kept up a cheerful conversation until sleep overpowered us. the night was very stormy and the morning scarcely less so but, being desirous to reach the house this day, we commenced our journey very early. we were gratified by the sight of a large herd of reindeer on the side of the hill near the track, but our only hunter adam was too feeble to pursue them. our shoes and garments were stiffened by the frost and we walked in great pain until we arrived at some stunted pines, at which we halted, made a good fire, and procured the refreshment of tea. the weather becoming fine in the afternoon we continued our journey, passed the dog-rib rock, and encamped among a clump of pines of considerable growth about a mile farther on. here we enjoyed the comfort of a large fire for the first time since our departure from the sea-coast, but this gratification was purchased at the expense of many severe falls in crossing a stony valley to get to these trees. there was no tripe de roche and we drank tea and ate some of our shoes for supper. next morning after taking the usual repast of tea we proceeded to the house. musing on what we were likely to find there our minds were agitated between hope and fear and, contrary to the custom we had kept up of supporting our spirits by conversation, we went silently forward. desolate state of fort enterprise. at length we reached fort enterprise and to our infinite disappointment and grief found it a perfectly desolate habitation. there was no deposit of provision, no trace of the indians, no letter from mr. wentzel to point out where the indians might be found. it would be impossible to describe our sensations after entering this miserable abode and discovering how we had been neglected; the whole party shed tears, not so much for our own fate as for that of our friends in the rear, whose lives depended entirely on our sending immediate relief from this place. i found a note however from mr. back, stating that he had reached the house two days before and was going in search of the indians at a part where st. germain deemed it probable they might be found. if he was unsuccessful he purposed walking to fort providence and sending succour from thence, but he doubted whether either he or his party could perform the journey to that place in their present debilitated state. it was evident that any supply that could be sent from fort providence would be long in reaching us, neither could it be sufficient to enable us to afford any assistance to our companions behind, and that the only relief for them must be procured from the indians. i resolved therefore on going also in search of them, but my companions were absolutely incapable of proceeding and i thought by halting two or three days they might gather a little strength whilst the delay would afford us the chance of learning whether mr. back had seen the indians. distress suffered at that place. we now looked round for the means of subsistence and were gratified to find several deer-skins which had been thrown away during our former residence. the bones were gathered from the heap of ashes; these with the skins and the addition of tripe de roche we considered would support us tolerably well for a time. as to the house, the parchment being torn from the windows, the apartment we selected for our abode was exposed to all the rigour of the season. we endeavoured to exclude the wind as much as possible by placing loose boards against the apertures. the temperature was now between 15 and 20 degrees below zero. we procured fuel by pulling up the flooring of the other rooms, and water for cooking by melting the snow. whilst we were seated round the fire, singeing the deer-skin for supper, we were rejoiced by the unexpected entrance of augustus. he had followed quite a different course from ours and the circumstance of his having found his way through a part of the country he had never been in before must be considered a remarkable proof of sagacity. the unusual earliness of this winter became manifest to us from the state of things at this spot. last year at the same season and still later there had been very little snow on the ground and we were surrounded by vast herds of reindeer; now there were but few recent tracks of these animals and the snow was upwards of two feet deep. winter river was then open, now it was frozen two feet thick. when i arose the following morning my body and limbs were so swollen that i was unable to walk more than a few yards. adam was in a still worse condition, being absolutely incapable of rising without assistance. my other companions happily experienced this inconvenience in a less degree and went to collect bones and some tripe de roche which supplied us with two meals. the bones were quite acrid and the soup extracted from them excoriated the mouth if taken alone, but it was somewhat milder when boiled with tripe de roche and we even thought the mixture palatable with the addition of salt, of which a cask had been fortunately left here in the spring. augustus today set two fishing-lines below the rapid. on his way thither he saw two deer but had not strength to follow them. on the 13th the wind blew violently from south-east and the snow drifted so much that the party were confined to the house. in the afternoon of the following day belanger arrived with a note from mr. back stating that he had seen no trace of the indians, and desiring further instructions as to the course he should pursue. belanger's situation however required our first care as he came in almost speechless and covered with ice, having fallen into a rapid and, for the third time since we left the coast, narrowly escaped drowning. he did not recover sufficiently to answer our questions until we had rubbed him for some time, changed his dress, and given him some warm soup. my companions nursed him with the greatest kindness and the desire of restoring him to health seemed to absorb all regard for their own situation. i witnessed with peculiar pleasure this conduct, so different from that which they had recently pursued when every tender feeling was suspended by the desire of self-preservation. they now no longer betrayed impatience or despondency but were composed and cheerful and had entirely given up the practice of swearing, to which the canadian voyagers are so lamentably addicted. our conversation naturally turned upon the prospect of getting relief and upon the means which were best adapted for obtaining it. the absence of all traces of indians on winter river convinced me that they were at this time on the way to fort providence and that, by proceeding towards that post, we should overtake them as they move slowly when they have their families with them. this route also offered us the prospect of killing deer in the vicinity of reindeer lake, in which neighbourhood our men in their journey to and fro last winter had always found them abundant. upon these grounds i determined on taking the route to fort providence as soon as possible, and wrote to mr. back, desiring him to join me at reindeer lake and detailing the occurrences since we parted, that our friends might receive relief in case of any accident happening to me. belanger did not recover sufficient strength to leave us before the 18th. his answers as to the exact part of round-rock lake in which he had left mr. back were very unsatisfactory, and we could only collect that it was at a considerable distance, and that he was still going on with the intention of halting at the place where akaitcho was encamped last summer, about thirty miles off. this distance appeared so great that i told belanger it was very unsafe for him to attempt it alone and that he would be several days in accomplishing it. he stated however that, as the track was beaten, he should experience little fatigue, and seemed so confident that i suffered him to depart with a supply of singed hide. next day i received information which explained why he was so unwilling to acquaint us with the situation of mr. back's party. he dreaded that i should resolve upon joining it when our numbers would be so great as to consume at once everything st. germain might kill, if by accident he should be successful in hunting. he even endeavoured to entice away our other hunter, adam, and proposed to him to carry off the only kettle we had and without which we could not have subsisted two days. adam's inability to move however precluded him from agreeing to the proposal but he could assign no reason for not acquainting me with it previous to belanger's departure. i was at first inclined to consider the whole matter as a fiction of adam's, but he persisted in his story without wavering, and belanger when we met again confessed that every part of it was true. it is painful to have to record a fact so derogatory to human nature but i have deemed it proper to mention it to show the difficulties we had to contend with, and the effect which distress had in warping the feelings and understanding of the most diligent and obedient of our party, for such belanger had been always esteemed up to this time. in making arrangements for our departure adam disclosed to me for the first time that he was affected with oedematous swellings in some parts of the body to such a degree as to preclude the slightest attempt at marching and, upon my expressing my surprise at his having hitherto concealed from me the extent of his malady, among other explanations the details of the preceding story came out. it now became necessary to abandon the original intention of proceeding with the whole party towards fort providence and, peltier and samandre having volunteered to remain with adam, i determined on setting out with benoit and augustus, intending to send them relief by the first party of indians we should meet. my clothes were so much torn as to be quite inadequate to screen me from the wind and peltier and samandre, fearing that i might suffer on the journey in consequence, kindly exchanged with me parts of their dress, desiring me to send them skins in return by the indians. having patched up three pairs of snowshoes and singed a quantity of skin for the journey we started on the morning of the 20th. previous to my departure i packed up the journals of the officers, the charts, and some other documents, together with a letter addressed to the under-secretary of state detailing the occurrences of the expedition up to this period, which package was given in charge to peltier and samandre with directions that it should be brought away by the indians who might come to them. i also instructed them to send succour immediately on its arrival to our companions in the rear, which they solemnly promised to do, and i left a letter for my friends, richardson and hood, to be sent at the same time. i thought it necessary to admonish peltier, samandre, and adam to eat two meals every day in order to keep up their strength, which they promised me they would do. no language that i can use could adequately describe the parting scene. i shall only say there was far more calmness and resignation to the divine will evince by everyone than could have been expected. we were all cheered by the hope that the indians would be found by the one party and relief sent to the other. those who remained entreated us to make all the haste we could and expressed their hope of seeing the indians in ten or twelve days. at first starting we were so feeble as scarcely to be able to move forwards and the descent of the bank of the river through the deep snow was a severe labour. when we came upon the ice where the snow was less deep we got on better, but after walking six hours we had only gained four miles and were then compelled by fatigue to encamp on the borders of round-rock lake. augustus tried for fish here but without success so that our fare was skin and tea. composing ourselves to rest we lay close to each other for warmth. we found the night bitterly cold and the wind pierced through our famished frames. the next morning was mild and pleasant for travelling and we set out after breakfast. we had not however gone many yards before i had the misfortune to break my snowshoes by falling between two rocks. this accident prevented me from keeping pace with benoit and augustus and in the attempt i became quite exhausted. feeling convinced that their being delayed on my account might prove of fatal consequence to the rest i resolved on returning to the house and letting them proceed alone in search of the indians. i therefore halted them only whilst i wrote a note to mr. back, stating the reason of my return, and desiring he would send meat from reindeer lake by these men if st. germain should kill any animals there. if benoit should miss mr. back i directed him to proceed to fort providence and furnished him with a letter to the gentleman in charge of it, requesting that immediate supplies might be sent to us. on my return to the house i found samandre very dispirited and too weak, as he said, to render any assistance to peltier, upon whom the whole labour of getting wood and collecting the means of subsistence would have devolved. conscious too that his strength would have been unequal to these tasks they had determined upon taking only one meal each day, so that i felt my going back particularly fortunate as i hoped to stimulate samandre to exertion and at any rate could contribute some help to peltier. i undertook the office of cooking and insisted they should eat twice a day whenever food could be procured but, as i was too weak to pound the bones, peltier agreed to do that in addition to his more fatiguing task of getting wood. we had a violent snow-storm all the next day and this gloomy weather increased the depression of spirits under which adam and samandre were labouring. neither of them would quit their beds and they scarcely ceased from shedding tears all day; in vain did peltier and myself endeavour to cheer them. we had even to use much entreaty before they would take the meals we had prepared for them. our situation was indeed distressing but in comparison with that of our friends in the rear we thought it happy. their condition gave us unceasing solicitude and was the principal subject of our conversation. though the weather was stormy on the 26th samandre assisted me to gather tripe de roche. adam, who was very ill and could not now be prevailed upon to eat this weed, subsisted principally on bones, though he also partook of the soup. the tripe de roche had hitherto afforded us our chief support, and we naturally felt great uneasiness at the prospect of being deprived of it by its being so frozen as to render it impossible for us to gather it. we perceived our strength decline every day and every exertion began to be irksome; when we were once seated the greatest effort was necessary in order to rise, and we had frequently to lift each other from our seats, but even in this pitiable condition we conversed cheerfully, being sanguine as to the speedy arrival of the indians. we calculated indeed that if they should be near the situation where they had remained last winter our men would have reached them by this day. having expended all the wood which we could procure from our present dwelling, without danger of its fall, peltier began this day to pull down the partitions of the adjoining houses. though these were only distant about twenty yards yet the increase of labour in carrying the wood fatigued him so much that by the evening he was exhausted. on the next day his weakness was such, especially in the arms of which he chiefly complained, that he with difficulty lifted the hatchet; still he persevered whilst samandre and i assisted him in bringing in the wood, but our united strength could only collect sufficient to replenish the fire four times in the course of the day. as the insides of our mouths had become sore from eating the bone-soup we relinquished the use of it and now boiled the skin, which mode of dressing we found more palatable than frying it, as we had hitherto done. on the 29th peltier felt his pains more severe and could only cut a few pieces of wood. samandre, who was still almost as weak, relieved him a little time and i aided them in carrying in the wood. we endeavoured to pick some tripe de roche but in vain as it was entirely frozen. in turning up the snow, in searching for bones, i found several pieces of bark which proved a valuable acquisition as we were almost destitute of dry wood proper for kindling the fire. we saw a herd of reindeer sporting on the river about half a mile from the house; they remained there a long time but none of the party felt themselves strong enough to go after them, nor was there one of us who could have fired a gun without resting it. murder of mr. hood. death of several of the canadians. whilst we were seated round the fire this evening, discoursing about the anticipated relief, the conversation was suddenly interrupted by peltier's exclaiming with joy "ah! le monde!" imagining that he heard the indians in the other room; immediately afterwards to his bitter disappointment dr. richardson and hepburn entered, each carrying his bundle. peltier however soon recovered himself enough to express his delight at their safe arrival and his regret that their companions were not with them. when i saw them alone my own mind was instantly filled with apprehensions respecting my friend hood and our other companions, which were immediately confirmed by the doctor's melancholy communication that mr. hood and michel were dead. perrault and fontano had neither reached the tent nor been heard of by them. this intelligence produced a melancholy despondency in the minds of my party and on that account the particulars were deferred until another opportunity. we were all shocked at beholding the emaciated countenances of the doctor and hepburn as they strongly evidenced their extremely debilitated state. the alteration in our appearance was equally distressing to them for since the swellings had subsided we were little more than skin and bone. the doctor particularly remarked the sepulchral tone of our voices which he requested us to make more cheerful if possible, unconscious that his own partook of the same key. hepburn, having shot a partridge which was brought to the house, the doctor tore out the feathers and, having held it to the fire a few minutes, divided it into six portions. i and my three companions ravenously devoured our shares as it was the first morsel of flesh any of us had tasted for thirty-one days, unless indeed the small gristly particles which we found occasionally adhering to the pounded bones may be termed flesh. our spirits were revived by this small supply and the doctor endeavoured to raise them still higher by the prospect of hepburn's being able to kill a deer next day, as they had seen and even fired at several near the house. he endeavoured too to rouse us into some attention to the comfort of our apartment, and particularly to roll up in the day our blankets which (expressly for the convenience of adam and samandre) we had been in the habit of leaving by the fire where we lay on them. the doctor having brought his prayer-book and testament, some prayers and psalms and portions of scripture appropriate to our situation were read and we retired to bed. next morning the doctor and hepburn went out early in search of deer, but though they saw several herds and fired some shots they were not so fortunate as to kill any, being too weak to hold their guns steadily. the cold compelled the former to return soon but hepburn persisted until late in the evening. my occupation was to search for skins under the snow, it being now our object immediately to get all that we would, but i had not strength to drag in more than two of those which were within twenty yards of the house until the doctor came and assisted me. we made up our stock to twenty-six but several of them were putrid and scarcely eatable, even by men suffering the extremity of famine. peltier and samandre continued very weak and dispirited and they were unable to cut firewood. hepburn had in consequence that laborious task to perform after he came back. the doctor having scarified the swelled parts of adam's body a large quantity of water flowed out, and he obtained some ease but still kept his bed. after our usual supper of singed skin and bone-soup dr. richardson acquainted me with the afflicting circumstances attending the death of mr. hood and michel, and detailed the occurrences subsequent to my departure from them which i shall give from his journal in his own words, but i must here be permitted to express the heart-felt sorrow with which i was overwhelmed at the loss of so many companions, especially of my friend mr. hood to whose zealous and able cooperation i had been indebted for so much invaluable assistance during the expedition, whilst the excellent qualities of his heart engaged my warmest regard. his scientific observations together with his maps and drawings (a small part of which only appear in this work) evince a variety of talent which, had his life been spared, must have rendered him a distinguished ornament to his profession, and which will cause his death to be felt as a loss to the service. ... dr. richardson's narrative. after captain franklin had bidden us farewell we remained seated by the fireside as long as the willows the men had cut for us before they departed lasted. we had no tripe de roche that day but drank an infusion of the country tea-plant, which was grateful from its warmth although it afforded no sustenance. we then retired to bed where we remained all the next day as the weather was stormy, and the snow-drift so heavy as to destroy every prospect of success in our endeavours to light a fire with the green and frozen willows which were our only fuel. through the extreme kindness and forethought of a lady the party, previous to leaving london, had been furnished with a small collection of religious books, of which we still retained two or three of the most portable, and they proved of incalculable benefit to us. we read portions of them to each other as we lay in bed, in addition to the morning and evening service, and found that they inspired us on each perusal with so strong a sense of the omnipresence of a beneficent god that our situation even in these wilds appeared no longer destitute, and we conversed not only with calmness but with cheerfulness, detailing with unrestrained confidence the past events of our lives and dwelling with hope on our future prospects. had my poor friend been spared to revisit his native land i should look back to this period with unalloyed delight. on the morning of the 9th the weather although still cold was clear, and i went out in quest of tripe de roche, leaving hepburn to cut willows for a fire and mr. hood in bed. i had no success as yesterday's snow-drift was so frozen on the surface of the rocks that i could not collect any of the weed, but on my return to the tent i found that michel the iroquois had come with a note from mr. franklin which stated that, this man and jean baptiste belanger being unable to proceed, were about to return to us, and that a mile beyond our present encampment there was a clump of pine-trees to which he recommended us to remove the tent. michel informed us that he quitted mr. franklin's party yesterday morning but that having missed his way he had passed the night on the snow a mile or two to the northward of us. belanger he said, being impatient, left the fire about two hours earlier and, as he had not arrived, he supposed must have gone astray. it will be seen in the sequel that we had more than sufficient reason to doubt the truth of this story. michel now produced a hare and a partridge which he had killed in the morning. this unexpected supply of provision was received by us with a deep sense of gratitude to the almighty for his goodness, and we looked upon michel as the instrument he had chosen to preserve all our lives. he complained of cold and mr. hood offered to share his buffalo robe with him at night. i gave him one of two shirts which i wore whilst hepburn in the warmth of his heart exclaimed "how i shall love this man if i find that he does not tell lies like the others." our meals being finished we arranged that the greatest part of the things should be carried to the pines the next day and, after reading the evening service, retired to bed full of hope. early in the morning hepburn, michel, and myself, carried the ammunition and most of the other heavy articles to the pines. michel was our guide and it did not occur to us at the time that his conducting us perfectly straight was incompatible with his story of having mistaken his road in coming to us. he now informed us that he had on his way to the tent left on the hill above the pines a gun and forty-eight balls which perrault had given to him when with the rest of mr. franklin's party he took leave of him. it will be seen on a reference to mr. franklin's journal that perrault carried his gun and ammunition with him when they parted from michel and belanger. after we had made a fire and drank a little of the country tea hepburn and i returned to the tent where we arrived in the evening, much exhausted with our journey. michel preferred sleeping where he was and requested us to leave him the hatchet, which we did after he had promised to come early in the morning to assist us in carrying the tent and bedding. mr. hood remained in bed all day. seeing nothing of belanger today we gave him up for lost. on the 11th, after waiting until late in the morning for michel who did not come, hepburn and i loaded ourselves with the bedding and, accompanied by mr. hood, set out for the pines. mr. hood was much affected with dimness of sight, giddiness, and other symptoms of extreme debility, which caused us to move very slowly and to make frequent halts. on arriving at the pines we were much alarmed to find that michel was absent. we feared that he had lost his way in coming to us in the morning, although it was not easy to conjecture how that could have happened, as our footsteps of yesterday were very distinct. hepburn went back for the tent and returned with it after dusk, completely worn out with the fatigue of the day. michel too arrived at the same time and relieved our anxiety on his account. he reported that he had been in chase of some deer which passed near his sleeping-place in the morning and, although he did not come up with them, yet that he found a wolf which had been killed by the stroke of a deer's horn and had brought a part of it. we implicitly believed this story then, but afterwards became convinced from circumstances, the detail of which may be spared, that it must have been a portion of the body of belanger or perrault. a question of moment here presents itself, namely whether he actually murdered these men, or either of them, or whether he found the bodies in the snow. captain franklin, who is the best able to judge of this matter from knowing their situation when he parted from them, suggested the former idea, and that both belanger and perrault had been sacrificed. when perrault turned back captain franklin watched him until he reached a small group of willows which was immediately adjoining to the fire and concealed it from view, and at this time the smoke of fresh fuel was distinctly visible. captain franklin conjectures that michel, having already destroyed belanger, completed his crime by perrault's death in order to screen himself from detection. although this opinion is founded only on circumstances and is unsupported by direct evidence it has been judged proper to mention it, especially as the subsequent conduct of the man showed that he was capable of committing such a deed. the circumstances are very strong. it is not easy to assign any other adequate motive for his concealing from us that perrault had turned back, while his request overnight that we should leave him the hatchet and his cumbering himself with it when he went out in the morning, unlike a hunter who makes use only of his knife when he kills a deer, seem to indicate that he took it for the purpose of cutting up something that he knew to be frozen. these opinions however are the result of subsequent consideration. we passed this night in the open air. on the following morning the tent was pitched; michel went out early, refused my offer to accompany him, and remained out the whole day. he would not sleep in the tent at night but chose to lie at the fireside. on the 13th there was a heavy gale of wind and we passed the day by the fire. next day about two p.m., the gale abating, michel set out as he said to hunt but returned unexpectedly in a very short time. this conduct surprised us and his contradictory and evasory answers to our questions excited some suspicions but they did not turn towards the truth. october 15th. in the course of this day michel expressed much regret that he had stayed behind mr. franklin's party, and declared that he would set out for the house at once if he knew the way. we endeavoured to sooth him and to raise his hopes of the indians speedily coming to our relief but without success. he refused to assist us in cutting wood but about noon, after much solicitation, he set out to hunt. hepburn gathered a kettleful of tripe de roche but froze his fingers. both hepburn and i fatigued ourselves much today in pursuing a flock of partridges from one part to another of the group of willows in which the hut was situated, but we were too weak to be able to approach them with sufficient caution. in the evening michel returned, having met with no success. next day he refused either to hunt or cut wood, spoke in a very surly manner, and threatened to leave us. under these circumstances mr. hood and i deemed it better to promise if he would hunt diligently for four days that then we would give hepburn a letter for mr. franklin, a compass, inform him what course to pursue, and let them proceed together to the fort. the non-arrival of the indians to our relief now led us to fear that some accident had happened to mr. franklin, and we placed no confidence in the exertions of the canadians that accompanied him but we had the fullest confidence in hepburn's returning the moment he could obtain assistance. on the 17th i went to conduct michel to where vaillant's blanket was left and after walking about three miles pointed out the hills to him at a distance, and returned to the hut, having gathered a bagful of tripe de roche on the way. it was easier to gather this weed on a march than at the tent, for the exercise of walking produced a glow of heat which enabled us to withstand for a time the cold to which we were exposed in scraping the frozen surface of the rocks. on the contrary when we left the fire to collect it in the neighbourhood of the hut we became chilled at once and were obliged to return very quickly. michel proposed to remain out all night and to hunt next day on his way back. he returned in the afternoon of the 18th, having found the blanket together with a bag containing two pistols and some other things which had been left beside it. we had some tripe de roche in the evening but mr. hood, from the constant griping it produced, was unable to eat more than one or two spoonfuls. he was now so weak as to be scarcely able to sit up at the fireside and complained that the least breeze of wind seemed to blow through his frame. he also suffered much from cold during the night. we lay close to each other but the heat of the body was no longer sufficient to thaw the frozen rime formed by our breaths on the blankets that covered him. at this period we avoided as much as possible conversing upon the hopelessness of our situation and generally endeavoured to lead the conversation towards our future prospects in life. the fact is that with the decay of our strength our minds decayed, and we were no longer able to bear the contemplation of the horrors that surrounded us. each of us, if i may be allowed to judge from my own case, excused himself from so doing by a desire of not shocking the feelings of others, for we were sensible of one another's weakness of intellect though blind to our own. yet we were calm and resigned to our fate, not a murmur escaped us, and we were punctual and fervent in our addresses to the supreme being. on the 19th michel refused to hunt or even to assist in carrying a log of wood to the fire which was too heavy for hepburn's strength and mine. mr. hood endeavoured to point out to him the necessity and duty of exertion, and the cruelty of his quitting us without leaving something for our support, but the discourse, far from producing any beneficial effect, seemed only to excite his anger and, amongst other expressions, he made use of the following remarkable one: "it is no use hunting, there are no animals, you had better kill and eat me." at length however he went out but returned very soon with a report that he had seen three deer which he was unable to follow from having wet his foot in a small stream of water thinly covered with ice and being consequently obliged to come to the fire. the day was rather mild and hepburn and i gathered a large kettleful of tripe de roche; michel slept in the tent this night. sunday, october 20. in the morning we again urged michel to go a-hunting that he might if possible leave us some provision, tomorrow being the day appointed for his quitting us, but he showed great unwillingness to go out and lingered about the fire under the pretence of cleaning his gun. after we had read the morning service i went about noon to gather some tripe de roche, leaving mr. hood sitting before the tent at the fireside arguing with michel; hepburn was employed cutting down a tree at a short distance from the tent, being desirous of accumulating a quantity of firewood before he left us. a short time after i went out i heard the report of a gun, and about ten minutes afterwards hepburn called to me in a voice of great alarm to come directly. when i arrived i found poor hood lying lifeless at the fireside, a ball having apparently entered his forehead. i was at first horror-struck with the idea that in a fit of despondency he had hurried himself into the presence of his almighty judge by an act of his own hand, but the conduct of michel soon gave rise to other thoughts, and excited suspicions which were confirmed when, upon examining the body, i discovered that the shot had entered the back part of the head and passed out at the forehead, and that the muzzle of the gun had been applied so close as to set fire to the night-cap behind. the gun, which was of the longest kind supplied to the indians, could not have been placed in a position to inflict such a wound except by a second person. upon inquiring of michel how it happened he replied that mr. hood had sent him into the tent for the short gun and that during his absence the long gun had gone off, he did not know whether by accident or not. he held the short gun in his hand at the time he was speaking to me. hepburn afterwards informed me that previous to the report of the gun mr. hood and michel were speaking to each other in an elevated angry tone, that mr. hood, being seated at the fireside, was hid from him by intervening willows, but that on hearing the report he looked up and saw michel rising up from before the tent-door, or just behind where mr. hood was seated, and then going into the tent. thinking that the gun had been discharged for the purpose of cleaning it he did not go to the fire at first, and when michel called to him that mr. hood was dead a considerable time had elapsed. although i dared not openly to evince any suspicion that i thought michel guilty of the deed, yet he repeatedly protested that he was incapable of committing such an act, kept constantly on his guard, and carefully avoided leaving hepburn and me together. he was evidently afraid of permitting us to converse in private and whenever hepburn spoke he inquired if he accused him of the murder. it is to be remarked that he understood english very imperfectly yet sufficiently to render it unsafe for us to speak on the subject in his presence. we removed the body into a clump of willows behind the tent and, returning to the fire, read the funeral service in addition to the evening prayers. the loss of a young officer of such distinguished and varied talents and application may be felt and duly appreciated by the eminent characters under whose command he had served, but the calmness with which he contemplated the probable termination of a life of uncommon promise, and the patience and fortitude with which he sustained, i may venture to say, unparalleled bodily sufferings, can only be known to the companions of his distresses. owing to the effect that the tripe de roche invariably had when he ventured to taste it, he undoubtedly suffered more than any of the survivors of the party. bickersteth's scripture help was lying open beside the body as if it had fallen from his hand, and it is probable that he was reading it at the instant of his death. we passed the night in the tent together without rest, everyone being on his guard. next day, having determined on going to the fort, we began to patch and prepare our clothes for the journey. we singed the hair off a part of the buffalo robe that belonged to mr. hood and boiled and ate it. michel tried to persuade me to go to the woods on the copper-mine river and hunt for deer instead of going to the fort. in the afternoon, a flock of partridges coming near the tent, he killed several which he shared with us. thick snowy weather and a head-wind prevented us from starting the following day but on the morning of the 23rd we set out, carrying with us the remainder of the singed robe. hepburn and michel had each a gun and i carried a small pistol which hepburn had loaded for me. in the course of the march michel alarmed us much by his gestures and conduct, was constantly muttering to himself, expressed an unwillingness to go to the fort, and tried to persuade me to go to the southward to the woods where he said he could maintain himself all the winter by killing deer. in consequence of this behaviour and the expression of his countenance i requested him to leave us and to go to the southward by himself. this proposal increased his ill-nature, he threw out some obscure hints of freeing himself from all restraint on the morrow, and i overheard his muttering threats against hepburn whom he openly accused of having told stories against him. he also for the first time assumed such a tone of superiority in addressing me as evinced that he considered us to be completely in his power and he gave vent to several expressions of hatred towards the white people or as he termed us in the idiom of the voyagers, the french, some of whom he said had killed and eaten his uncle and two of his relations. in short, taking every circumstance of his conduct into consideration, i came to the conclusion that he would attempt to destroy us on the first opportunity that offered, and that he had hitherto abstained from doing so from his ignorance of his way to the fort, but that he would never suffer us to go thither in company with him. in the course of the day he had several times remarked that we were pursuing the same course that mr. franklin was doing when he left him and that, by keeping towards the setting sun, he could find his way himself. hepburn and i were not in a condition to resist even an open attack, nor could we by any device escape from him. our united strength was far inferior to his and, beside his gun, he was armed with two pistols, an indian bayonet, and a knife. in the afternoon, coming to a rock on which there was some tripe de roche, he halted and said he would gather it whilst we went on and that he would soon overtake us. hepburn and i were now left together for the first time since mr. hood's death, and he acquainted me with several material circumstances which he had observed of michel's behaviour and which confirmed me in the opinion that there was no safety for us except in his death, and he offered to be the instrument of it. i determined however, as i was thoroughly convinced of the necessity of such a dreadful act, to take the whole responsibility upon myself and, immediately upon michel's coming up, i put an end to his life by shooting him through the head with a pistol. had my own life alone been threatened i would not have purchased it by such a measure, but i considered myself as entrusted also with the protection of hepburn's, a man who, by his humane attentions and devotedness, had so endeared himself to me that i felt more anxiety for his safety than for my own. michel had gathered no tripe de roche and it was evident to us that he had halted for the purpose of putting his gun in order with the intention of attacking us, perhaps whilst we were in the act of encamping. i have dwelt in the preceding part of the narrative upon many circumstances of michel's conduct, not for the purpose of aggravating his crime, but to put the reader in possession of the reasons that influenced me in depriving a fellow-creature of life. up to the period of his return to the tent his conduct had been good and respectful to the officers, and in a conversation between captain franklin, mr. hood, and myself, at obstruction rapid, it had been proposed to give him a reward upon our arrival at a post. his principles however, unsupported by a belief in the divine truths of christianity, were unable to withstand the pressure of severe distress. his countrymen, the iroquois, are generally christians, but he was totally uninstructed and ignorant of the duties inculcated by christianity, and from his long residence in the indian country seems to have imbibed or retained the rules of conduct which the southern indians prescribe to themselves. on the two following days we had mild but thick snowy weather and, as the view was too limited to enable us to preserve a straight course, we remained encamped amongst a few willows and dwarf pines about five miles from the tent. we found a species of cornicularia, a kind of lichen that was good to eat when moistened and toasted over the fire, and we had a good many pieces of singed buffalo hide remaining. on the 26th, the weather being clear and extremely cold, we resumed our march which was very painful from the depth of the snow, particularly on the margins of the small lakes that lay in our route. we frequently sunk under the load of our blankets and were obliged to assist each other in getting up. after walking about three miles and a half however we were cheered by the sight of a large herd of reindeer and hepburn went in pursuit of them but, his hand being unsteady through weakness, he missed. he was so exhausted by this fruitless attempt that we were obliged to encamp upon the spot although it was a very unfavourable one. next day we had fine and clear but cold weather. we set out early and, in crossing a hill, found a considerable quantity of tripe de roche. about noon we fell upon little marten lake, having walked about two miles. the sight of a place that we knew inspired us with fresh vigour and, there being comparatively little snow on the ice, we advanced at a pace to which we had lately been unaccustomed. in the afternoon we crossed a recent track of a wolverine which, from a parallel mark in the snow, appeared to have been dragging something. hepburn traced it and upon the borders of the lake found the spine of a deer that it had dropped. it was clean picked and at least one season old, but we extracted the spinal marrow from it which, even in its frozen state, was so acrid as to excoriate the lips. we encamped within sight of the dog-rib rock and from the coldness of the night and the want of fuel rested very ill. on the 28th we rose at daybreak, but from the want of the small fire that we usually made in the mornings to warm our fingers, a very long time was spent in making up our bundles. this task fell to hepburn's share as i suffered so much from the cold as to be unable to take my hands out of my mittens. we kept a straight course for the dog-rib rock but, owing to the depth of the snow in the valleys we had to cross, did not reach it until late in the afternoon. we would have encamped but did not like to pass a second night without fire and, though scarcely able to drag our limbs after us, we pushed on to a clump of pines about a mile to the southward of the rock and arrived at them in the dusk of the evening. during the last few hundred yards of our march our track lay over some large stones amongst which i fell down upwards of twenty times, and became at length so exhausted that i was unable to stand. if hepburn had not exerted himself far beyond his strength and speedily made the encampment and kindled a fire, i must have perished on the spot. this night we had plenty of dry wood. on the 29th we had clear and fine weather. we set out at sunrise and hurried on in our anxiety to reach the house, but our progress was much impeded by the great depth of the snow in the valleys. although every spot of ground over which we travelled today had been repeatedly trodden by us yet we got bewildered in a small lake. we took it for marten lake, which was three times its size, and fancied that we saw the rapids and the grounds about the fort, although they were still far distant. our disappointment when this illusion was dispelled by our reaching the end of the lake so operated on our feeble minds as to exhaust our strength, and we decided upon encamping but, upon ascending a small eminence to look for a clump of wood, we caught a glimpse of the big stone, a well-known rock upon the summit of a hill opposite to the fort, and determined upon proceeding. in the evening we saw several large herds of reindeer but hepburn, who used to be considered a good marksman, was now unable to hold the gun straight and although he got near them all his efforts proved fruitless. in passing through a small clump of pines we saw a flock of partridges, and he succeeded in killing one after firing several shots. we came in sight of the fort at dusk and it is impossible to describe our sensations when, on attaining the eminence that overlooks it, we beheld the smoke issuing from one of the chimneys. from not having met with any footsteps in the snow as we drew nigh our once cheerful residence we had been agitated by many melancholy forebodings. upon entering the now desolate building we had the satisfaction of embracing captain franklin, but no words can convey an idea of the filth and wretchedness that met our eyes on looking around. our own misery had stolen upon us by degrees and we were accustomed to the contemplation of each other's emaciated figures, but the ghastly countenances, dilated eyeballs, and sepulchral voices of captain franklin and those with him were more than we could at first bear. conclusion of dr. richardson's narrative. ... the morning of the 31st was very cold, the wind being strong from the north. hepburn went again in quest of deer and the doctor endeavoured to kill some partridges, both were unsuccessful. a large herd of deer passed close to the house, the doctor fired once at them but was unable to pursue them. adam was easier this day and left his bed. peltier and samandre were much weaker and could not assist in the labours of the day. both complained of soreness in the throat and samandre suffered much from cramps in his fingers. the doctor and hepburn began this day to cut the wood and also brought it to the house. being too weak to aid in these laborious tasks i was employed in searching for bones and cooking and attending to our more weakly companions. in the evening peltier, complaining much of cold, requested of me a portion of a blanket to repair his shirt and drawers. the mending of these articles occupied him and samandre until past one a.m. and their spirits were so much revived by the employment that they conversed even cheerfully the whole time. adam sat up with them. the doctor, hepburn, and myself went to bed. we were afterwards agreeably surprised to see peltier and samandre carry three or four logs of wood across the room to replenish the fire, which induced us to hope they still possessed more strength than we had supposed. november 1. this day was fine and mild. hepburn went hunting but was as usual unsuccessful. as his strength was rapidly declining we advised him to desist from the pursuit of deer, and only to go out for a short time and endeavour to kill a few partridges for peltier and samandre. the doctor obtained a little tripe de roche but peltier could not eat any of it, and samandre only a few spoonfuls, owing to the soreness of their throats. in the afternoon peltier was so much exhausted that he sat up with difficulty and looked piteously; at length he slid from his stool upon his bed, as we supposed to sleep, and in this composed state he remained upwards of two hours without our apprehending any danger. we were then alarmed by hearing a rattling in his throat and on the doctor's examining him he was found to be speechless. he died in the course of the night. samandre sat up the greater part of the day and even assisted in pounding some bones but, on witnessing the melancholy state of peltier, he became very low and began to complain of cold and stiffness of the joints. being unable to keep up a sufficient fire to warm him we laid him down and covered him with several blankets. he did not however appear to get better and i deeply lament to add he also died before daylight. we removed the bodies of the deceased into the opposite part of the house but our united strength was inadequate to the task of interring them or even carrying them down to the river. it may be worthy of remark that poor peltier, from the time of benoit's departure, had fixed on the first of november as the time when he should cease to expect any relief from the indians, and had repeatedly said that if they did not arrive by that day he should not survive. peltier had endeared himself to each of us by his cheerfulness, his unceasing activity, and affectionate care and attentions ever since our arrival at this place. he had nursed adam with the tenderest solicitude the whole time. poor samandre was willing to have taken his share in the labours of the party had he not been wholly incapacitated by his weakness and low spirits. the severe shock occasioned by the sudden dissolution of our two companions rendered us very melancholy. adam became low and despondent, a change which we lamented the more as we had perceived he had been gaining strength and spirits for the two preceding days. i was particularly distressed by the thought that the labour of collecting wood must now devolve upon dr. richardson and hepburn, and that my debility would disable me from affording them any material assistance; indeed both of them most kindly urged me not to make the attempt. they were occupied the whole of the next day in tearing down the logs of which the storehouse was built but the mud plastered between them was so hard frozen that the labour of separation exceeded their strength, and they were completely exhausted by bringing in wood sufficient for less than twelve hours' consumption. i found it necessary in their absence to remain constantly near adam and to converse with him in order to prevent his reflecting on our condition, and to keep up his spirits as far as possible. i also lay by his side at night. on the 3rd the weather was very cold though the atmosphere was cloudy. this morning hepburn was affected with swelling in his limbs, his strength as well as that of the doctor was rapidly declining; they continued however to be full of hope. their utmost exertions could only supply wood to renew the fire thrice and on making it up the last time we went to bed. adam was in rather better spirits but he could not bear to be left alone. our stock of bones was exhausted by a small quantity of soup we made this evening. the toil of separating the hair from the skins, which in fact were our chief support, had now become so wearisome as to prevent us from eating as much as we should otherwise have done. november 4. calm and comparatively mild weather. the doctor and hepburn, exclusive of their usual occupation, gathered some tripe de roche. i went a few yards from the house in search of bones and returned quite fatigued, having found but three. the doctor again made incisions in adam's leg which discharged a considerable quantity of water and gave him great relief. we read prayers and a portion of the new testament in the morning and evening, as had been our practice since dr. richardson's arrival, and i may remark that the performance of these duties always afforded us the greatest consolation, serving to reanimate our hope in the mercy of the omnipotent, who alone could save and deliver us. on the 5th the breezes were light with dark cloudy weather and some snow. the doctor and hepburn were getting much weaker and the limbs of the latter were now greatly swelled. they came into the house frequently in the course of the day to rest themselves and when once seated were unable to rise without the help of one another, or of a stick. adam was for the most part in the same low state as yesterday, but sometimes he surprised us by getting up and walking with an appearance of increased strength. his looks were now wild and ghastly and his conversation was often incoherent. the next day was fine but very cold. the swellings in adam's limbs having subsided he was free from pain and arose this morning in much better spirits, and spoke of cleaning his gun ready for shooting partridges or any animals that might appear near the house, but his tone entirely changed before the day was half over; he became again dejected and could scarcely be prevailed upon to eat. the doctor and hepburn were almost exhausted. the cutting of one log of wood occupied the latter half an hour, and the other took as much time to drag it into the house, though the distance did not exceed thirty yards. i endeavoured to help the doctor but my assistance was very trifling. yet it was evident that in a day or two if their strength should continue to decline at the same rate i should be the strongest of the party. i may here remark that owing to our loss of flesh the hardness of the floor from which we were only protected by a blanket produced soreness over the body, and especially those parts on which the weight rested in lying, yet to turn ourselves for relief was a matter of toil and difficulty. however during this period and indeed all along after the acute pains of hunger, which lasted but three or four days, had subsided, we generally enjoyed the comfort of a few hours' sleep. the dreams which for the most part but not always accompanied it were usually (though not invariably) of a pleasant character, being very often about the enjoyments of feasting. in the daytime we fell into the practice of conversing on common and light subjects, although we sometimes discussed with seriousness and earnestness topics connected with religion. we generally avoided speaking directly of our present sufferings or even of the prospect of relief. i observed that in proportion as our strength decayed our minds exhibited symptoms of weakness, evinced by a kind of unreasonable pettishness with each other. each of us thought the other weaker in intellect than himself, and more in need of advice and assistance. so trifling a circumstance as a change of place, recommended by one as being warmer and more comfortable and refused by the other from a dread of motion, frequently called forth fretful expressions which were no sooner uttered than atoned for, to be repeated perhaps in the course of a few minutes. the same thing often occurred when we endeavoured to assist each other in carrying wood to the fire; none of us were willing to receive assistance although the task was disproportioned to our strength. on one of these occasions hepburn was so convinced of this waywardness that he exclaimed, "dear me, if we are spared to return to england, i wonder if we shall recover our understandings." november 7. adam had passed a restless night, being disquieted by gloomy apprehensions of approaching death, which we tried in vain to dispel. he was so low in the morning as to be scarcely able to speak. i remained in bed by his side to cheer him as much as possible. the doctor and hepburn went to cut wood. they had hardly begun their labour when they were amazed at hearing the report of a musket. they could scarcely believe that there was really anyone near until they heard a shout and immediately espied three indians close to the house. adam and i heard the latter noise and i was fearful that a part of the house had fallen upon one of my companions, a disaster which had in fact been thought not unlikely. my alarm was only momentary, dr. richardson came in to communicate the joyful intelligence that relief had arrived. he and myself immediately addressed thanksgivings to the throne of mercy for this deliverance but poor adam was in so low a state that he could scarcely comprehend the information. when the indians entered he attempted to rise but sank down again. but for this seasonable interposition of providence his existence must have terminated in a few hours, and that of the rest probably in not many days. the indians had left akaitcho's encampment on the 5th november, having been sent by mr. back with all possible expedition after he had arrived at their tents. they brought but a small supply of provision that they might travel quickly. it consisted of dried deer's meat, some fat, and a few tongues. dr. richardson, hepburn and i eagerly devoured the food which they imprudently presented to us in too great abundance, and in consequence we suffered dreadfully from indigestion and had no rest the whole night. adam, being unable to feed himself, was more judiciously treated by them and suffered less; his spirits revived hourly. the circumstance of our eating more food than was proper in our present condition was another striking proof of the debility of our minds. we were perfectly aware of the danger, and dr. richardson repeatedly cautioned us to be moderate, but he was himself unable to practise the caution he so judiciously recommended. boudell-kell, the youngest of the indians, after resting about an hour, returned to akaitcho with the intelligence of our situation, and he conveyed a note from me to mr. back, requesting another supply of meat as soon as possible. the two others, crooked-foot and the rat, remained to take care of us until we should be able to move forward. the note received by the indians from mr. back communicated a tale of distress with regard to himself and his party as painful as that which we had suffered, as will be seen hereafter by his own narrative. november 8. the indians this morning requested us to remove to an encampment on the banks of the river as they were unwilling to remain in the house where the bodies of our deceased companions were lying exposed to view. we agreed but the day proved too stormy and dr. richardson and hepburn, having dragged the bodies to a short distance and covered them with snow, the objections of the indians to remain in the house were dissipated, and they began to clear our room of the accumulation of dirt and fragments of pounded bones. the improved state of our apartment and the large and cheerful fires they kept up produced in us a sensation of comfort to which we had long been strangers. in the evening they brought in a pile of dried wood which was lying on the riverside and towards which we had often cast a wishful eye, being unable to drag it up the bank. the indians set about everything with an activity that amazed us. indeed contrasted with our emaciated figures and extreme debility their frames appeared to us gigantic and their strength supernatural. these kind creatures next turned their attention to our personal appearance and prevailed upon us to shave and wash ourselves. the beards of the doctor and hepburn had been untouched since they left the sea-coast and were become of a hideous length and peculiarly offensive to the indians. the doctor and i suffered extremely from distension and therefore ate sparingly.* hepburn was getting better and adam recovered his strength with amazing rapidity. (*footnote. the first alvine discharges after we received food were, as hearne remarks on a similar occasion, attended with excessive pain. previous to the arrival of the indians the urinary secretion was extremely abundant and we were obliged to rise from bed in consequence upwards of ten times in a night. this was an extreme annoyance in our reduced state. it may perhaps be attributed to the quantity of the country tea that we drank.) november 9. this morning was pleasantly fine. crooked-foot caught four large trout in winter lake which were very much prized, especially by the doctor and myself, who had taken a dislike to meat in consequence of our sufferings from repletion which rendered us almost incapable of moving. adam and hepburn in a good measure escaped this pain. though the night was stormy and our apartment freely admitted the wind we felt no inconvenience, the indians were so very careful in covering us up and in keeping a good fire, and our plentiful cheer gave such power of resisting the cold, that we could scarcely believe otherwise than that the season had become milder. on the 13th the weather was stormy with constant snow. the indians became desponding at the non-arrival of the supply and would neither go to hunt nor fish. they frequently expressed their fears of some misfortune having befallen boudel-kell, and in the evening went off suddenly without apprising us of their intention, having first given to each of us a handful of pounded meat which they had reserved. their departure at first gave rise to a suspicion of their having deserted us, not meaning to return, especially as the explanations of adam, who appeared to be in their secret, were very unsatisfactory. at length by interrogations we got from him the information that they designed to march night and day until they should reach akaitcho's encampment whence they would send us aid. as we had combated their fears about boudell-kell they perhaps apprehended that we should oppose their determination and therefore concealed it. we were now left a second time without food, and with appetites recovered and strongly excited by recent indulgence. on the following day the doctor and hepburn resumed their former occupation of collecting wood and i was able to assist a little in bringing it into the house. adam, whose expectation of the arrival of the indians had been raised by the fineness of the weather, became towards night very desponding and refused to eat the singed skin. the night was stormy and there was a heavy fall of snow. the next day he became still more dejected. about eleven hepburn, who had gone out for the wood, came in with the intelligence that a party appeared upon the river. the room was instantly swept and, in compliance with the prejudices of the indians, every scrap of skin was carefully removed out of sight, for these simple people imagine that burning deer-skin renders them unsuccessful in hunting. the party proved to be crooked-foot, thooeeyorre, and the fop, with the wives of the two latter dragging provisions. they were accompanied by benoit, one of our own men. we were rejoiced to learn by a note from mr. back dated november 11 that he and his companions had so recruited their strength that they were preparing to proceed to fort providence. adam recovered his spirits on the arrival of the indians and even walked about the room with an appearance of strength and activity that surprised us all. as it was of consequence to get amongst the reindeer before our present supply should fail we made preparations for quitting fort enterprise the next day and accordingly, at an early hour on the 16th, having united in thanksgiving and prayer, the whole party left the house after breakfast. our feelings on quitting the fort where we had formerly enjoyed much comfort, if not happiness, and latterly experienced a degree of misery scarcely to be paralleled, may be more easily conceived than described. the indians treated us with the utmost tenderness, gave us their snowshoes, and walked without themselves, keeping by our sides that they might lift us when we fell. we descended winter river and about noon crossed the head of round-rock lake, distant about three miles from the house, where we were obliged to halt as dr. richardson was unable to proceed. the swellings in his limbs rendered him by much the weakest of the party. the indians prepared our encampment, cooked for us, and fed us as if we had been children, evincing humanity that would have done honour to the most civilised people. the night was mild and fatigue made us sleep soundly. from this period to the 26th of november we gradually improved through their kindness and attention, and on that day arrived in safety at the abode of our chief and companion akaitcho. we were received by the party assembled in the leader's tent with looks of compassion and profound silence which lasted about a quarter of an hour and by which they meant to express their condolence for our sufferings. the conversation did not begin until we had tasted food. the chief akaitcho showed us the most friendly hospitality and all sorts of personal attention, even to cooking for us with his own hands, an office which he never performs for himself. annoethaiyazzeh and humpy, the chief's two brothers, and several of our hunters, with their families were encamped here together with a number of old men and women. in the course of the day we were visited by every person of the band, not merely from curiosity, but a desire to evince their tender sympathy in our late distress. we learned that mr. back with st. germain and belanger had gone to fort providence and that, previous to his departure, he had left a letter in a cache of pounded meat which we had missed two days ago. as we supposed that this letter might acquaint us with his intentions more fully than we could gather from the indians, through our imperfect knowledge of their language, augustus, the esquimaux, whom we found here in perfect health, and an indian lad were despatched to bring it. we found several of the indian families in great affliction for the loss of three of their relatives who had been drowned in the august preceding by the upsetting of a canoe near fort enterprise. they bewailed the melancholy accident every morning and evening by repeating the names of the persons in a loud singing tone which was frequently interrupted by bursts of tears. one woman was so affected by the loss of her only son that she seemed deprived of reason and wandered about the tents the whole day, crying and singing out his name. on the 1st of december we removed with the indians to the southward. on the 4th we again set off after the indians about noon, and soon overtook them, as they had halted to drag from the water and cut up and share a moose-deer that had been drowned in a rapid part of the river, partially covered with ice. these operations detained us a long time which was the more disagreeable as the weather was extremely unpleasant from cold low fogs. we were all much fatigued at the hour of encampment, which was after dark, though the day's journey did not exceed four miles. at every halt the elderly men of the tribe made holes in the ice and put in their lines. one of them shared the produce of his fishery with us this evening. in the afternoon of the 6th belanger and another canadian arrived from fort providence, sent by mr. weeks with two trains of dogs, some spirits and tobacco for the indians, a change of dress for ourselves, and a little tea and sugar. they also brought letters for us from england and from mr. back and mr. wentzel. by the former we received the gratifying intelligence of the successful termination of captain parry's voyage, and were informed of the promotion of myself and mr. back, and of poor hood, our grief for whose loss was renewed by this intelligence. the letter from mr. back stated that the rival companies in the fur trade had united but that, owing to some cause which had not been explained to him, the goods intended as rewards to akaitcho and his band which we had demanded in the spring from the north-west company were not sent. there were however some stores lying for us at moose-deer island, which had been ordered for the equipment of our voyagers, and mr. back had gone across to that establishment to make a selection of the articles we could spare for a temporary present to the indians. the disappointment at the non-arrival of the goods was seriously felt by us as we had looked forward with pleasure to the time when we should be enabled to recompense our kind indian friends for their tender sympathy in our distresses, and the assistance they had so cheerfully and promptly rendered. i now regretted to find that mr. wentzel and his party, in their return from the sea, had suffered severely on their march along the copper-mine river, having on one occasion, as he mentioned, had no food but tripe de roche for eleven days. all the indians flocked to our encampment to learn the news and to receive the articles brought for them. having got some spirits and tobacco they withdrew to the tent of the chief and passed the greater part of the night in singing. we had now the indescribable gratification of changing our linen which had been worn ever since our departure from the sea-coast. december 8. after a long conference with akaitcho we took leave of him and his kind companions and set out with two sledges, heavily laden with provision and bedding, drawn by the dogs, and conducted by belanger and the canadian sent by mr. weeks. hepburn and augustus jointly dragged a smaller sledge laden principally with their own bedding. adam and benoit were left to follow with the indians. we encamped on the grassy-lake portage, having walked about nine miles, principally on the yellow knife river. it was open at the rapids and in these places we had to ascend its banks and walk through the woods for some distance, which was very fatiguing, especially to dr. richardson whose feet were severely galled in consequence of some defect in his snowshoes. on the 11th however we arrived at the fort which was still under the charge of mr. weeks. he welcomed us in the most kind manner, immediately gave us changes of dress, and did everything in his power to make us comfortable. our sensations on being once more in a comfortable dwelling after the series of hardships and miseries we had experienced may be imagined. our first act was again to return our grateful praises to the almighty for the manifold instances of his mercy towards us. having found here some articles which mr. back had sent across from moose-deer island i determined on awaiting the arrival of akaitcho and his party in order to present these to them and to assure them of the promised reward as soon as it could possibly be procured. in the afternoon of the 14th akaitcho with his whole band came to the fort. he smoked his customary pipe and made an address to mr. weeks in the hall previous to his coming into the room in which dr. richardson and i were. we discovered at the commencement of his speech to us that he had been informed that our expected supplies had not come. he spoke of this circumstance as a disappointment indeed sufficiently severe to himself, to whom his band looked up for the protection of their interests, but without attaching any blame to us. "the world goes badly," he said "all are poor; you are poor, the traders appear to be poor, i and my party are poor likewise, and since the goods have not come in we cannot have them. i do not regret having supplied you with provisions for a copper indian can never permit white men to suffer from want of food on his lands without flying to their aid. i trust however that we shall, as you say, receive what is due next autumn, and at all events," he added in a tone of good humour, "it is the first time that the white people have been indebted to the copper indians." we assured him the supplies should certainly be sent to him by the autumn if not before. he then cheerfully received the small present we made to himself and, although we could give a few things only to those who had been most active in our service, the others who perhaps thought themselves equally deserving did not murmur at being left out in the distribution. akaitcho afterwards expressed a strong desire that we should represent the character of his nation in a favourable light to our countrymen. "i know," he said, "you write down every occurrence in your books, but probably you have only noticed the bad things we have said and done, and have omitted the good." in the course of the desultory conversation which ensued he said that he had been always told by us to consider the traders in the same light as ourselves, and that for his part he looked upon both as equally respectable. this assurance, made in the presence of mr. weeks, was particularly gratifying to us as it completely disproved the defence that had been set up respecting the injurious reports circulated against us amongst the indians in the spring, namely that they were in retaliation for our endeavours to lower the traders in the eyes of the indians. i take this opportunity of stating my opinion that mr. weeks, in spreading these reports, was actuated by a mistaken idea that he was serving the interest of his employers. on the present occasion we felt indebted to him for the sympathy he displayed for our distresses, and the kindness with which he administered to our personal wants. after this conference such indians as were indebted to the company were paid for the provision they had given us by deducting a corresponding sum from their debts; in the same way we gave a reward of sixteen skins of beaver to each of the persons who had come to our relief at fort enterprise. as the debts of akaitcho and his hunters had been effaced at the time of his engagement with us we placed a sum equal to the amount of provision they had recently supplied to their credit on the company's books. these things being, through the moderation of the indians, adjusted with an unexpected facility, we gave them a keg of mixed liquors (five parts water) and distributed among them several fathoms of tobacco, and they retired to their tents to spend the night in merriment. adam, our interpreter, being desirous of uniting himself with the copper indians, applied to me for his discharge which i granted, and gave him a bill on the hudson's bay company for the amount of his wages. these arrangements being completed we prepared to cross the lake. mr. weeks provided dr. richardson and i with a cariole each and we set out at eleven a.m. on the 15th for moose-deer island. our party consisted of belanger who had charge of a sledge laden with the bedding and drawn by two dogs, our two cariole men, benoit and augustus. previous to our departure we had another conference with akaitcho who, as well as the rest of his party, bade us farewell with a warmth of manner rare among the indians. the badness of belanger's dogs and the roughness of the ice impeded our progress very much and obliged us to encamp early. we had a good fire made of the driftwood which lines the shores of this lake in great quantities. the next day was very cold. we began the journey at nine a.m. and encamped at the big cape, having made another short march in consequence of the roughness of the ice. on the 17th we encamped on the most southerly of the reindeer islands. this night was very stormy but, the wind abating in the morning, we proceeded and by sunset reached the fishing-huts of the company at stony point. here we found mr. andrews, a clerk of the hudson's bay company, who regaled us with a supper of excellent white-fish for which this part of slave lake is particularly celebrated. two men with sledges arrived soon afterwards, sent by mr. mcvicar, who expected us about this time. we set off in the morning before daybreak with several companions and arrived at moose-deer island about one p.m. here we were received with the utmost hospitality by mr. mcvicar, the chief trader of the hudson's bay company in this district, as well as by his assistant mr. mcauley. we had also the happiness of joining our friend mr. back; our feelings on this occasion can be well imagined and we were deeply impressed with gratitude to him for his exertions in sending the supply of food to fort enterprise, to which under divine providence we felt the preservation of our lives to be owing. he gave us an affecting detail of the proceedings of his party since our separation, the substance of which i shall convey to the reader by the following extracts from his journal. mr. back's narrative. october 4, 1821. captain franklin having directed me to proceed with st. germain, belanger, and beauparlant to fort enterprise, in the hope of obtaining relief for the party, i took leave of my companions and set out on my journey through a very swampy country which, with the cloudy state of the weather and a keen north-east wind, accompanied by frequent snow-showers, retarded us so much that we had scarcely got more than four miles before we halted for the night and made a meal of tripe de roche and some old leather. on the 5th we set out early amidst extremely deep snow, sinking frequently in it up to the thighs, a labour in our enfeebled and almost worn-out state that nothing but the cheering hopes of reaching the house and affording relief to our friends could have enabled us to support. as we advanced we found to our mortification that the tripe de roche, hitherto our sole dependence, began to be scarce, so that we could only collect sufficient to make half a kettleful which, with the addition of a partridge each that st. germain had killed, yielded a tolerable meal; during this day i felt very weak and sore in the joints, particularly between the shoulders. at eight we encamped among a small clump of willows. on the 6th we set out at an early hour, pursuing our route over a range of hills at the foot of one of which we saw several large pines and a great quantity of willows, a sight that encouraged us to quicken our pace as we were now certain we could not be far from the woods. indeed we were making considerable progress when belanger unfortunately broke through the ice and sank up to the hips. the weather being cold, he was in danger of freezing, but some brushwood on the borders of the lake enabled us to make a fire to dry him. at the same time we took the opportunity of refreshing ourselves with a kettle of swamp tea. my increasing debility had for some time obliged me to use a stick for the purpose of extending my arms, the pain in my shoulders being so acute that i could not bear them to remain in the usual position for two minutes together. we halted at five among some small brushwood and made a sorry meal of an old pair of leather trousers and some swamp tea. the night was cold with a hard frost and though two persons slept together yet we could not by any means keep ourselves warm, but remained trembling the whole time. the following morning we crossed several lakes, occasionally seeing the recent tracks of deer, and at noon we fell upon marten lake; it happened to be at the exact spot where we had been the last year with the canoes yet, though i immediately recognised the place, the men would not believe it to be the same; at length by pointing out several marks and relating circumstances connected with them they recovered their memory, and a simultaneous expression of "mon dieu, nous sommes sauves," broke from the whole. contrary to our expectations the lake was frozen sufficiently to bear us, so that we were excused from making the tours of the different bays. this circumstance seemed to impart fresh vigour to us and we walked as fast as the extreme smoothness of the ice would permit, intending to reach the slave rock that night, but an unforeseen and almost fatal accident prevented the prosecution of our plan: belanger (who seemed the victim of misfortune) again broke through the ice in a deep part near the head of the rapid, but was timely saved by our fastening our worsted belts together and pulling him out. by urging him forwards as quick as his icy garments would admit to prevent his freezing, we reached a few pines and kindled a fire, but it was late before he even felt warm, though he was so near the flame as to burn his hair twice, and to add to our distress (since we could not pursue them) three wolves crossed the lake close to us. the night of the 7th was extremely stormy and about ten the following morning, on attempting to go on, we found it totally impossible, being too feeble to oppose the wind and drift which frequently blew us over and, on attempting to cross a small lake that lay in our way, drove us faster backwards than with every effort we could get forwards; we therefore encamped under the shelter of a small clump of pines, secure from the south-west storm that was raging around us. in the evening, there being no tripe de roche we were compelled to satisfy, or rather allay, the cravings of hunger by eating a gun cover and a pair of old shoes; at this time i had scarcely strength to get on my legs. the wind did not in the least abate during the night but in the morning of the 9th it changed to north-east and became moderate. we took advantage of this circumstance and, rising with great difficulty, set out, though had it not been for the hope of reaching the house i am certain, from the excessive faintness which almost overpowered me, that i must have remained where i was. we passed the slave rock and, making frequent halts, arrived within a short distance of fort enterprise, but as we perceived neither any marks of indians nor even of animals, the men began absolutely to despair, on a nearer approach however the tracks of large herds of deer which had only passed a few hours tended a little to revive their spirits, and shortly after we crossed the ruinous threshold of the long-sought spot, but what was our surprise, what our sensations, at beholding everything in the most desolate and neglected state; the doors and windows of that room in which we expected to find provision had been thrown down and the wild animals of the woods had resorted there as to a place of shelter and retreat. mr. wentzel had taken away the trunks and papers but had left no note to guide us to the indians. this was to us the most grievous disappointment: without the assistance of the indians, bereft of every resource, we felt ourselves reduced to the most miserable state, which was rendered still worse from the recollection that our friends in the rear were as miserable as ourselves. for the moment however hunger prevailed and each began to gnaw the scraps of putrid and frozen meat that were lying about without waiting to prepare them. a fire however was made and the neck and bones of a deer found in the house were boiled and devoured. i determined to remain a day here to repose; then to go in search of the indians and, in the event of missing them, to proceed to the first trading establishment which was distant about one hundred and thirty miles, and from thence to send succour to my companions. this indeed i should have done immediately as the most certain manner of executing my purpose, had there been any probability of the river and lakes being frozen to the southward, or had we possessed sufficient strength to have clambered over the rocks and mountains which impeded the direct way, but as we were aware of our inability to do so i listened to st. germain's proposal, which was to follow the deer into the woods (so long as they did not lead us out of our route to the indians) and if possible to collect sufficient food to carry us to fort providence. we now set about making mittens and snowshoes whilst belanger searched under the snow and collected a mass of old bones which, when burned and used with a little salt, we found palatable enough and made a tolerable meal. at night st. germain returned, having seen plenty of tracks but no animals; the day was cloudy with fresh breezes and the river was frozen at the borders. on the 11th we prepared for our journey, having first collected a few old skins of deer to serve us as food, and written a note to be left for our commander to apprise him of our intentions. we pursued the course of the river to the lower lake when st. germain fell in, which obliged us to encamp directly to prevent his being frozen; indeed we were all glad to rest for, in our meagre and reduced state, it was impossible to resist the weather which at any other time would have been thought fine; my toes were frozen and, although wrapped up in a blanket, i could not keep my hands warm. the 12th was exceedingly cold with fresh breezes. our meal at night consisted of scraps of old deer-skins and swamp tea and the men complained greatly of their increasing debility. the following morning i sent st. germain to hunt, intending to go some distance down the lake, but the weather becoming exceedingly thick with snow-storms we were prevented from moving. he returned without success, not having seen any animals. we had nothing to eat. in the morning of the 14th the part of the lake before us was quite frozen. there was so much uncertainty in st. germain's answers as to the chance of any indians being in the direction we were then going (although he had previously said that the leader had told him he should be there) and he gave so much dissatisfaction in his hunting excursions that i was induced to send a note to the commander, whom i supposed to be by this time at fort enterprise, to inform him of our situation; not that i imagined for a moment he could amend it, but that by all returning to the fort we might perhaps have better success in hunting; with this view i despatched belanger, much against his inclination, and told him to return as quickly as possible to a place about four miles farther on where we intended to fish and to await his arrival. the men were so weak this day that i could get neither of them to move from the encampment, and it was only necessity that compelled them to cut wood for fuel, in performing which operation beauparlant's face became so dreadfully swelled that he could scarcely see; i myself lost my temper on the most trivial circumstances and was become very peevish; the day was fine but cold with a freezing north-east wind. we had nothing to eat. october 15. the night was calm and clear but it was not before two in the afternoon that we set out, and the one was so weak and the other so full of complaints that we did not get more than three-quarters of a mile from our last encampment before we were obliged to put up, but in this distance we were fortunate enough to kill a partridge, the bones of which were eaten and the remainder reserved for baits to fish with. we however collected sufficient tripe de roche to make a meal and i anxiously awaited belanger's return to know what course to take. i was now so much reduced that my shoulders were as if they would fall from my body, my legs seemed unable to support me and, in the disposition in which i then found myself, had it not been for the remembrance of my friends behind who relied on me for relief as well as the persons of whom i had charge, i certainly should have preferred remaining where i was to the miserable pain of attempting to move. october 16. we waited until two in the afternoon for belanger but, not seeing anything of him on the lake, we set out, purposing to encamp at the narrows, the place which was said to be so good for fishing and where, according to st. germain's account, the indians never failed to catch plenty; its distance at most could not be more than two miles. we had not proceeded far before beauparlant began to complain of increasing weakness, but this was so usual with us that no particular notice was taken of it, for in fact there was little difference, all being alike feeble: among other things he said whilst we were resting that he should never get beyond the next encampment for his strength had quite failed him. i endeavoured to encourage him by explaining the mercy of the supreme being who ever beholds with an eye of pity those that seek his aid. this passed as common discourse. when he inquired where we were to put up st. germain pointed to a small clump of pines near us, the only place indeed that offered for fuel. "well," replied the poor man, "take your axe, mr. back, and i will follow at my leisure, i shall join you by the time the encampment is made." this is a usual practice of the country and st. germain and myself went on towards the spot; it was five o'clock and not very cold but rather milder than we had experienced it for some time when, on leaving the ice, we saw a number of crows perched on the top of some high pines near us. st. germain immediately said there must be some dead animal thereabouts and proceeded to search, when we saw several heads of deer half buried in the snow and ice without eyes or tongues, the previous severity of the weather having obliged the wolves and other animals to abandon them. an expression of "oh merciful god! we are saved," broke from us both, and with feelings more easily imagined than described we shook hands, not knowing what to say for joy. it was twilight and a fog was rapidly darkening the surface of the lake when st. germain commenced making the encampment; the task was too laborious for me to render him any assistance and, had we not thus providentially found provision, i feel convinced that the next twenty-four hours would have terminated my existence. but this good fortune in some measure renovated me for the moment and, putting out my whole strength, i contrived to collect a few heads and with incredible difficulty carried them singly about thirty paces to the fire. darkness stole on us apace and i became extremely anxious about beauparlant; several guns were fired to each of which he answered. we then called out and again heard his responses though faintly, when i told st. germain to go and look for him as i had not strength myself, being quite exhausted. he said that he had already placed a pine branch on the ice and he could then scarcely find his way back, but if he went now he should certainly be lost. in this situation i could only hope that, as beauparlant had my blanket and everything requisite to light a fire, he might have encamped at a little distance from us. october 17. the night was cold and clear but we could not sleep at all from the pains of having eaten. we suffered the most excruciating torments though i in particular did not eat a quarter of what would have satisfied me; it might have been from using a quantity of raw or frozen sinews of the legs of deer, which neither of us could avoid doing, so great was our hunger. in the morning, being much agitated for the safety of beauparlant, i desired st. germain to go in search of him and to return with him as quick as possible, when i would have something prepared for them to eat. it was however late when he arrived, with a small bundle which beauparlant was accustomed to carry and, with tears in his eyes, told me that he had found our poor companion dead. dead! i could not believe him. "it is so sir," said st. germain, "after hallooing and calling his name to no purpose i went towards our last encampment about three-quarters of a mile and found him stretched upon his back on a sandbank frozen to death, his limbs all extended and swelled enormously and as hard as the ice that was near him; his bundle was behind him as if it had rolled away when he fell, and the blanket which he wore around his neck and shoulders thrown on one side. seeing that there was no longer life in him i threw your covering over him and placed his snowshoes on the top of it." i had not even thought of so serious an occurrence in our little party and for a short time was obliged to give vent to my grief. left with one person and both of us weak, no appearance of belanger, a likelihood that great calamity had taken place amongst our other companions, still upwards of seventeen days' march from the nearest establishment, and myself unable to carry a burden; all these things pressed heavy on me, and how to get to the indians or to the fort i did not know but, that i might not depress st. germain's spirits, i suppressed the feelings to which these thoughts gave rise and made some arrangements for the journey to fort providence. october 18. while we were this day occupied in scraping together the remains of some deer's meat we observed belanger coming round a point apparently scarcely moving. i went to meet him and made immediate inquiries about my friends. five, with the captain, he said, were at the house, the rest were left near the river unable to proceed, but he was too weak to relate the whole. he was conducted to the encampment and paid every attention to, and by degrees we heard the remainder of his tragic tale, at which the interpreter could not avoid crying. he then gave me a letter from my friend the commander which indeed was truly afflicting. the simple story of belanger i could hear, but when i read it in another language, mingled with the pious resignation of a good man, i could not sustain it any longer. the poor man was much affected at the death of our lamented companion but his appetite prevailed over every other feeling and, had i permitted it, he would have done himself an injury; for after two hours' eating, principally skin and sinews, he complained of hunger. the day was cloudy with snow and fresh breezes from the north-east by east. the last evening as well as this morning the 19th i mentioned my wishes to the men that we should proceed towards reindeer lake, but this proposal met with a direct refusal. belanger stated his inability to move and st. germain used similar language, adding for the first time that he did not know the route, and that it was of no use to go in the direction i mentioned, which was the one agreed upon between the commander and myself. i then insisted that we should go by the known route and join the commander, but they would not hear of it; they would remain where they were until they had regained their strength; they said i wanted to expose them again to death (faire perir). in vain did i use every argument to the contrary for they were equally heedless to all. thus situated i was compelled to remain, and from this time to the 25th we employed ourselves in looking about for the remnants of the deer and pieces of skin which even the wolves had left and, by pounding the bones, we were enabled to make a sort of soup which strengthened us greatly, though each still complained of weakness. it was not without the greatest difficulty that i could restrain the men from eating every scrap they found, though they were well aware of the necessity there was of being economical in our present situation and to save whatever they could for our journey; yet they could not resist the temptation and whenever my back was turned they seldom failed to snatch at the nearest piece to them, whether cooked or raw. we had set fishing-lines but without any success, and we often saw large herds of deer crossing the lake at full speed and wolves pursuing them. the night of the 25th was cold with hard frost. early the next morning i sent the men to cover the body of our departed companion beauparlant with the trunks and branches of trees which they did and, shortly after their return, i opened his bundle and found it contained two papers of vermilion, several strings of beads, some fire-steels, flints, awls, fish-hooks, rings, linen, and the glass of an artificial horizon. my two men began to recover a little as well as myself, though i was by far the weakest of the three; the soles of my feet were cracked all over and the other parts were as hard as horn from constant walking. i again urged the necessity of advancing to join the commander's party but they said they were not sufficiently strong. on the 27th we discovered the remains of a deer on which we feasted. the night was unusually cold and ice formed in a pint-pot within two feet of the fire. the coruscations of the aurora borealis were beautifully brilliant; they served to show us eight wolves which we had some trouble to frighten away from our collection of deer's bones and, between their howling and the constant cracking of the ice, we did not get much rest. having collected with great care and by self-denial two small packets of dried meat or sinews sufficient (for men who knew what it was to fast) to last for eight days at the rate of one indifferent meal per day, we prepared to set out on the 30th. i calculated that we should be about fourteen days in reaching fort providence and, allowing that we neither killed deer nor found indians, we could but be unprovided with food six days and this we heeded not whilst the prospect of obtaining full relief was before us. accordingly we set out against a keen north-east wind in order to gain the known route to fort providence. we saw a number of wolves and some crows on the middle of the lake and, supposing such an assemblage was not met idly, we made for them and came in for a share of a deer which they had killed a short time before, and thus added a couple of meals to our stock. by four p.m. we gained the head of the lake or the direct road to fort providence and, some dry wood being at hand, we encamped; by accident it was the same place where the commander's party had slept on the 19th, the day on which i supposed they had left fort enterprise, but the encampment was so small that we feared great mortality had taken place amongst them, and i am sorry to say the stubborn resolution of my men not to go to the house prevented me from determining this most anxious point, so that i now almost dreaded passing their encampments lest i should see some of our unfortunate friends dead at each spot. our fire was hardly kindled when a fine herd of deer passed close to us. st. germain pursued them a short distance but with his usual want of success so that we made a meal off the muscles and sinews we had dried, though they were so tough that we could scarcely cut them. my hands were benumbed throughout the march and we were all stiff and fatigued. the marching of two days weakened us all very much and the more so on account of our exertion to follow the tracks of our commander's party, but we lost them and concluded that they were not before us. though the weather was not cold i was frozen in the face and was so reduced and affected by these constant calamities, as well in mind as in body, that i found much difficulty in proceeding even with the advantages i had enjoyed. november 3. we set out before day, though in fact we were all much fitter to remain from the excessive pain which we suffered in our joints, and proceeded till one p.m. without halting, when belanger who was before stopped and cried out "footsteps of indians." it is needless to mention the joy that brightened the countenances of each at this unlooked-for sight; we knew relief must be at hand and considered our sufferings at an end. st. germain inspected the tracks and said that three persons had passed the day before, and that he knew the remainder must be advancing to the southward as was customary with these indians when they sent to the trading establishment on the first ice. on this information we encamped and, being too weak to walk myself, i sent st. germain to follow the tracks, with instructions to the chief of the indians to provide immediate assistance for such of our friends as might be at fort enterprise, as well as for ourselves, and to lose no time in returning to me. i was now so exhausted that, had we not seen the tracks this day, i must have remained at the next encampment until the men could have sent aid from fort providence. we had finished our small portion of sinews and were preparing for rest when an indian boy made his appearance with meat. st. germain had arrived before sunset at the tents of akaitcho whom he found at the spot where he had wintered last year, but imagine my surprise when he gave me a note from the commander and said that benoit and augustus, two of the men, had just joined them. the note was so confused by the pencil marks being partly rubbed out that i could not decipher it clearly, but it informed me that he had attempted to come with the two men but, finding his strength inadequate to the task, he relinquished his design and returned to fort enterprise to await relief with the others. there was another note for the gentleman in charge of fort providence desiring him to send meat, blankets, shoes, and tobacco. akaitcho wished me to join him on the ensuing day at a place which the boy knew where they were going to fish, and i was the more anxious to do so on account of my companions, but particularly that i might hear a full relation of what had happened and of the commander's true situation, which i suspected to be much worse than he had described. in the afternoon i joined the indians and repeated to akaitcho what st. germain had told him; he seemed much affected and said he would have sent relief directly though i had not been there; indeed his conduct was generous and humane. the next morning at an early hour three indians with loaded sledges of meat, skins, shoes, and a blanket, set out for fort enterprise; one of them was to return directly with an answer from captain franklin to whom i wrote but, in the event of his death, he was to bring away all the papers he could find, and he promised to travel with such haste as to be able to return to us on the fourth day. i was now somewhat more at ease, having done all in my power to succour my unfortunate companions, but was very anxious for the return of the messenger. the indians brought me meat in small quantities though sufficient for our daily consumption and, as we had a little ammunition, many were paid on the spot for what they gave. on the 9th i had the satisfaction of seeing the indian arrive from fort enterprise. at first he said they were all dead but shortly after he gave me a note which was from the commander and then i learned all the fatal particulars which had befallen them. i now proposed that the chief should immediately send three sledges loaded with meat to fort enterprise, should make a cache of provision at our present encampment, and also that he should here await the arrival of the commander. by noon two large trains laden with meat were sent off for fort enterprise. the next day we proceeded on our journey and arrived at fort providence on the 21st of november. conclusion of mr. back's narrative. ... conclusion. i have little now to add to the melancholy detail into which i felt it proper to enter, but i cannot omit to state that the unremitting care and attentions of our kind friends mr. mcvicar and mr. mcauley, united with our improved diet to promote to the restoration of our health, so that by the end of february the swellings of our limbs which had returned upon us entirely subsided, and we were able to walk to any part of the island. our appetites gradually moderated and we nearly regained our ordinary state of body before the spring. hepburn alone suffered from a severe attack of rheumatism which confined him to his bed for some weeks. the usual symptoms of spring having appeared, on the 25th of may we prepared to embark for fort chipewyan. fortunately on the following morning a canoe arrived from that place with the whole of the stores which we required for the payment of akaitcho and the hunters. it was extremely gratifying to us to be thus enabled, previous to our departure, to make arrangements respecting the requital of our late indian companions, and the more so as we had recently discovered that akaitcho and the whole of his tribe, in consequence of the death of the leader's mother and the wife of our old guide keskarrah, had broken and destroyed every useful article belonging to them and were in the greatest distress. it was an additional pleasure to find our stock of ammunition more than sufficient to pay them what was due, and that we could make a considerable present of this most essential article to every individual that had been attached to the expedition. we quitted moose-deer island at five p.m. on the 26th, accompanied by mr. mcvicar and mr. mcauley and nearly all the voyagers at the establishment, having resided there about five months, not a day of which had passed without our having cause of gratitude for the kind and unvaried attentions of mr. mcvicar and mr. mcauley. these gentlemen accompanied us as far as fort chipewyan where we arrived on the 2nd of june, here we met mr. wentzel and the four men who had been sent with him from the mouth of the copper-mine river, and i think it due to that gentleman to give his own explanation of the unfortunate circumstances which prevented him from fulfilling my instructions respecting the provisions to have been left for us at fort enterprise. (see below.) in a subsequent conversation he stated to me that the two indians who were actually with him at fort enterprise whilst he remained there altering his canoe were prevented from hunting, one by an accidental lameness, the other by the fear of meeting alone some of the dog-rib indians. we were here furnished with a canoe by mr. smith and a bowman to act as our guide and, having left fort chipewyan on the 5th, we arrived on the 4th of july at norway house. finding at this place that canoes were about to go down to montreal i gave all our canadian voyagers their discharges and sent them by those vessels, furnishing them with orders on the agent of the hudson's bay company for the amount of their wages. we carried augustus down to york factory where we arrived on the 14th of july, and were received with every mark of attention and kindness by mr. simpson the governor, mr. mctavish, and indeed by all the officers of the united companies. and thus terminated our long, fatiguing, and disastrous travels in north america, having journeyed by water and by land (including our navigation of the polar sea) five thousand five hundred and fifty miles. ... mr. wentzel's explanation. after you sent me back from the mouth of the copper-mine river and i had overtaken the leader, guides, and hunters, on the fifth day, leaving the sea-coast, as well as our journey up the river, they always expressed the same desire of fulfilling their promises, although somewhat dissatisfied at being exposed to privation while on our return from a scarcity of animals for, as i have already stated in my first communication from moose-deer island, we had been eleven days with no other food but tripe de roche. in the course of this time an indian with his wife and child, who were travelling in company with us, were left in the rear and are since supposed to have perished through want, as no intelligence had been received of them at fort providence in december last. on the seventh day after i had joined the leader, etc. etc., and journeying on together, all the indians excepting petit pied and bald-head left me to seek their families and crossed point lake at the crow's nest, where humpy had promised to meet his brother ekehcho (akaitcho the leader) with the families but did not fulfil, nor did any of my party of indians know where to find them, for we had frequently made fires to apprise them of our approach yet none appeared in return as answers. this disappointment as might be expected served to increase the ill-humour of the leader and party, the brooding of which (agreeably to indian custom) was liberally discharged on me, in bitter reproach for having led them from their families and exposed them to dangers and hardships which, but for my influence, they said they might have spared themselves. nevertheless they still continued to profess the sincerest desire of meeting your wishes in making caches of provisions and remaining until a late season on the road that leads from fort enterprise to fort providence, through which the expedition-men had travelled so often the year before, remarking however at the same time that they had not the least hopes of ever seeing one person return from the expedition. these alarming fears i never could persuade them to dismiss from their minds; they always sneered at what they called my credulity. "if," said the gros pied (also akaitcho) "the great chief (meaning captain franklin) or any of his party should pass at my tents, he or they shall be welcome to all my provisions or anything else that i may have." and i am sincerely happy to understand by your communication that in this he had kept his word, in sending you with such promptitude and liberality the assistance your truly dreadful situation required. but the party of indians on whom i had placed the utmost confidence and dependence was humpy and the white capot guide with their sons and several of the discharged hunters from the expedition. this party was well-disposed and readily promised to collect provisions for the possible return of the expedition, provided they could get a supply of ammunition from fort providence, for when i came up with them they were actually starving and converting old axes into ball, having no other substitute; this was unlucky. yet they were well inclined and i expected to find means at fort providence to send them a supply, in which i was however disappointed, for i found that establishment quite destitute of necessaries, and then shortly after i had left them they had the misfortune of losing three of their hunters who were drowned in marten lake; this accident was of all others the most fatal that could have happened, a truth which no one who has the least knowledge of the indian character will deny, and as they were nearly connected by relationship to the leader, humpy, and white capot guide, the three leading men of this part of the copper indian tribe, it had the effect of unhinging (if i may use the expression) the minds of all these families and finally destroying all the fond hopes i had so sanguinely conceived of their assisting the expedition, should it come back by the annadesse river of which they were not certain. as to my not leaving a letter at fort enterprise it was because by some mischance you had forgot to give me paper when we parted.* (*footnote. i certainly offered mr. wentzel some paper when he quitted us but he declined it, having then a notebook, and mr. back gave him a pencil.) i however wrote this news on a plank in pencil and placed it in the top of your former bedstead where i left it. since it has not been found there some indians must have gone to the house after my departure and destroyed it. these details, sir, i have been induced to enter into (rather unexpectedly) in justification of myself and hope it will be satisfactory.