CHAPTER XI
Investing Hard-earned Dollars
Barely six months had passed since Joe Bradley took passage to Canada and became one of the ever-growing army of immigrants who yearly ascend the mighty St. Lawrence river and are scattered throughout the provinces of the Dominion. The days had flown since his landing, and but for that long chase of Hurley, the murderer, scarcely an event had happened to break through the orderliness of his day's duties. No longer was he a greenhorn, either. His knowledge of farming as it is practised in England may be said to have been still extremely small, but of farming in the Dominion he knew almost enough to manage a quarter section of his own.
"Not that I advise it," said the cautious and knowing Peter. "You're over young yet to face the worries which must come to a landowner, and you could do with more capital. So you take the advice of one who's tried, and go as a labourer a bit longer. Meanwhile, you could put that 'ere money you've saved into something likely to make it grow whilst you're prospecting with Hank."
Joe had, in fact, saved quite a respectable amount, for it must be remembered that his personal expenses were extremely small, while his wages were good. Moreover, the dollar bills which Hurley had stolen from him had been recovered when that individual was captured, though the precious letter left him by his father seemed to have been lost for ever.
"It war a piece of luck, I do declare," said Peter. "Ef he'd gone off along the railway there would have been a different tale to tell. Joe aer fortunate to have come out of that mess with his life, and still more lucky to have got back his dollars. As to the letter, there ain't no saying if it war valuable. P'raps not; least, that's what I'm hoping. And now the thing's to invest his savings so as they'll grow while he's away prospecting. Seems to me, Hank, as ef this here place, as well as the settlement right up agin the railroad, might soon get big. The land's good for working. The crops this year has been first-class, and some of our boys has won prizes for their wheat. There's Jim, fer instance. His was nigh the heaviest yield per acre that there's been recorded, while the grain weighed mighty heavy to the bushel. In course the papers prints and publishes all these things, and people gets to know. There's been strangers hereabouts looking fer sections to take up come the summer. Wall?"
Hank was not the one to give an opinion offhand. He cogitated a great deal, and as a rule his faithful little pipe helped him considerably, or rather it appeared to help him, for it was his invariable custom to fill it on such occasions, set fire to the weed, and sit crouched into a ball, holding the pipe between two of his shapely fingers while he stared into the open. In this case there was no open, for they were seated in Mrs. Strike's parlour, and Hank had perforce to stare into the open stove, which is part and parcel of every settler's dwelling.
"Never did see such a man!" exclaimed Mrs. Strike impatiently. "He's all movement, you tell me, when he's off in the forest; but here, when you want his advice, he jest sits down and blinks, till you feel as ef you could shake him. I ain't got no patience with the man."
Peter grinned widely; he was accustomed to his wife's ways—and Joe also—knowing well that it was all playfulness on her part. As for Hank, the little man whom nothing daunted, as a rule, he pulled heavily at his pipe and looked as if he might take to his heels and run away. He glanced askance at Mrs. Strike, till the good woman smiled at him.
"I'm only teasing you," she explained, with a laugh. "But, dear, dear! you do amuse me. Seems to me as ef I shouted you'd be scared almost out of your life."
That set Hank grinning also—a nervous grin—then he became solemn, for matters which concerned the welfare of Joe needed the utmost attention.
"I'm with you, Peter," he said at last. "Down by the railroad things'll move soon. A few dollars laid out in town plots wouldn't come to harm, while ef we was both to apply for quarter sections right here, we could sell 'em at the break of winter to new settlers anxious not to be too far out. What about Hurley's, by the way?"
"That aer fer sale now," came the answer. "He didn't do much to it, and there don't seem no one wanting it just now, which are natural, seeing that winter's here. Come next spring it'll be asked for."
"Then there's Joe's chance. Ef he ain't got enough dollars, I'll chip in with him. Eh?"
"Ready and willing," agreed Joe. "I like the idea immensely. Hank and I are off into the woods prospecting, and we're not likely to want much cash. Seems to me it's a wise thing to put what I have where it may grow during my absence. I'll apply for a quarter section right here. It's a condition of the Government that all settlers shall fence their sections in a given time, and break so much of the virgin ground. I can't do that now, as we have hard frosts, and things are too cold for working. In the spring, if I like to, I can tackle the job. If not, I can sell; then I'll buy Hurley's if I can, and sell that again also."
Buying and selling is the life and soul of Canada. Land speculators purchase from the Government with the sole idea of selling to those who follow, and see in the land for sale something with greater attractions than that offered free by the authorities. Again, men must fail in such a country, and here and there are always to be found those unfortunate enough to have to offer their sections, on which they may have expended much toil already. Whereas a quarter section of virgin land, extending to one hundred and sixty acres in all, may be of little value when unbroken, broken and fenced it is almost always of considerably enhanced value; for breaking and fencing mean the expenditure of labour, and labour is terribly hard to come by at times in the Dominion.
"We'll go along and see into the matter to-morrow, then," said Peter, when the question had been further discussed. "Jest throw on a log or two, Joe; it's cold enough to freeze one even inside the shack."
Those few days which followed gave our hero some idea, though not a complete one, it must be acknowledged, of the life of settlers in Canada during the long and severe winter which visits the land. There are those who dread the winter. One meets occasionally a man who has returned to England because of the Canadian winter, because of the inertia it brings to great stretches of the country, stopping all outside work, and, on the farms, cutting off neighbours from intercourse with one another. At other times it is the loneliness and silence of the life which send would-be settlers away; but not very often. There are scores and scores who put up with the winter as we in England put up with decidedly dispiriting weather, resting tranquilly and passing the idle hours as best they can, knowing well that a glorious summer will surely follow.
"Not that there's fogs and suchlike," explained Peter, when telling Joe of the life. "Most days its beautifully sunny and bright, though the thermometer may be down below zero. And as to stayin' indoors all the while, that we don't. Most of us has knocked up runners, on which we put the rigs when we've stripped the wheels from 'em. Jim down below thar being a bachelor, with plenty to spend, and being also a good bit of a sportsman, has dogs, and his team drags him from shack to shack, specially round about Christmas. Even the school children get to school on their snowshoes. There ain't no difficulty about that neither, onless the weather's too altogether bad, for the Government build schools fer each settlement. There only wants to be a matter of seven children, and up goes a stone-built school, and a mistress who's properly trained for the job gets a lodging in the nearest shack, or in the school itself, and starts off to teach the youngsters. As to work, wall, I finds heaps. Winter's jest the time for papering the walls of the shack or fer doing a bit of painting. There's furniture wants making, and last winter I and the hand that stayed with us built a new stable. This time I'll whitewash all the outhouses, as well as the fowlhouse."
"And for me there's enough and to spare to keep me from being idle or from grumbling," interjected Mrs. Strike. "There's the house, in the first place, with the beds to make and sichlike. There's food to be cooked fer all, including the chickens, which have hot stuff every day through the winter. And ef I'm dull with looking at Peter there, I've only to go to the telephone and ring up Mrs. George Bailey. A real nice woman that, Joe. She's a help to her husband, she is, and that can't be said of every woman who's come out from England and has lived her life till then in a villa just outside London, with never any greater difficulty to provide for her family than that of stepping along the street to the nearest shop. If they was all like her, there's many settlers would be more successful."
It was clear that Peter and his wife could have kept on discussing this theme for an hour or more; and to those who knew them it was equally certain that these two worthy souls practised exactly as they preached. They had faced the difficulties and the privations often met with in greater number by early settlers, and they had succeeded. Peter was a man who, thanks to hard work and a genial temperament, had made a success of his quarter section, so that the land which had lain bare for centuries before was now entirely tilled, and yielded handsomely to his efforts. In fact, from the position almost of a pauper, the man had advanced to a point where he earned a handsome income that was more than sufficient for his needs, and allowed him to put by many dollars during the course of a year.
"And it ain't finished there," he told Joe and Hank gleefully, when dilating on the subject. "There's the quarter section. It's worth a tidy heap of dollars—more'n a thousand pounds in English money—and that's what I could get any day of the year. But I don't stand still, not never."
"I've had my eyes around, and have gone in as a partner with a brother of mine who came out to Canada at the same time. We worked together for a while, then he went west into British Columbia. Wall, he took up fruit land when irrigation wasn't much more'n dreamed of and, with dollars I put to his, bought two sections close handy. They're gold mines. He's been able to get labour, and seeing that he has a large family of sons and daughters able to work and help, why, it's only needed honest work to tickle the soil and put in the trees to turn over a fine penny; the land does all the rest. It's that fertile it grows astonishing crops of apples, while peaches, strawberries, and sichlike do thundering well. Tom—that's my brother—was mighty wise and lucky too; he took up ground within easy reach of Vancouver, so that he always has a close market for his goods, putting aside the fact that it allowed him to watch things going on, and buy other bits of land when he thought they were likely to go up in value. That's where some of my dollars has gone. Me and the missus will be sellin' up one o' these fine days, and going west where it's warmer."
Joe was bound to admit that the cold did not trouble him. Not that the winter had as yet set in in full severity, though there had been heavy frosts and a fall of snow; but, as Peter had told him, he always found work to do. Even those few days before departing with Hank were strenuous ones. There were logs to saw for the stove, for the huge iron thing which warmed the shack, and which is essential to a Canadian winter, ate timber wholesale. Then there were the cattle to be tended to—for they required feeding, since they could not graze for themselves—there were the pigs also, while always water was wanted inside the shack, and must be drawn from the well which had been one of Peter's labours.
Of an evening, too, while the weather was so open, George and his brother, Jim and other neighbours would drive over, and there would be a jovial supper, followed by a dance, when Mrs. Strike bustled Joe tremendously, till the rough furniture was cleared aside and the boarded floor made ready for the dancers. Then it was Hank's turn, and sometimes Jim's, though Hank was the one who usually obliged. Seated cross-legged in a corner, his face as serious as if he had an army of Redskins after him, the curious and lovable little fellow would bend over his concertina and send forth such notes, that dancing became easy even to the most clumsy.
Those were jolly days. The jovial and friendly fellow who had come out from England had found not a set of desperadoes in the settlers of the Dominion, but men and women just as he had known at home, with only the difference which climate and environment necessarily bring. Hard workers, they liked Joe because he was like them in that, and because of his modesty. They liked him, too, because of his open admiration of the country of his adoption and the life he led.
"Ef they was all like you there never wouldn't be any squabbling," said Peter; "but Canadians is getting to understand the Britisher better. He's coming out in greater numbers now, and sense he and we are the backbone of the country, why, we're fools if we ain't friends."
It was on a bright, clear, frosty morning that Hank and Joe climbed into Peter's rig and, with that worthy driving, set off for the nearest station. Mrs. Strike wiped her eyes as they went, for she was genuinely fond of them, while Tom shook Joe's hand as if he would wrench it off and hold it as a keepsake. An hour later they were aboard the train, and could see Peter driving back home to the settlement.
"Guess he's a good fellow, and deserves to succeed," said Hank, settling himself into a corner. "When next we see him it'll be spring or later hereabouts, and things will have changed wonderfully. There'll be a pile of people here compared with what's settled now. That's always the case; every year makes a huge difference. Shouldn't wonder if the plots you've bought didn't bring you in a small fortune; but of course it's a toss up."
Joe watched the surroundings as they pulled out of the station, noting the many shacks in the distance, and the fact that nearer the railway some of the older settlers had replaced their log dwellings by neatly-boarded houses. It was close to some of these that he himself, with the advice of Hank and Peter, had purchased certain portions of vacant ground in the hope that, as time passed, a township might spring up, and thereby make his purchases more valuable. As to Hurley's quarter section, the winter being on them, it happened that there was no one who cared to purchase, and Joe had picked it up at a very modest figure.
"You jest forget all about them things and set yer mind to the expedition we're after," said Hank, after a while. "Fust we goes along to Sudbury, where we can buy all that we want; then we sets off for Fennick's. Guess we'll put in a week with him, and then strike off for the country we're after. Maybe we'll get a bit of huntin', and seems to me we should be wise, for a pelt or two will be useful for bedcovering. Of course you've got to be able to stand the cold, youngster. There's lots would think this job but madness. But a man can easy stand the winter ef he's in hard condition, and particularly ef he's in amongst the forests. As to bear, why, seeing as they hibernate, there ain't much chance of meeting the beasts, though it do happen sometimes that one of them gets disturbed, and then, ef he ain't too sleepy, jest you look out fer ructions. I don't know of any animal that's so tarnation dangerous as a bear, 'cept perhaps a caribou, and he's jest every bit as bad as, they tell me, is a rhinoceros. Ever hunted, lad?"
Joe was forced to admit that he had not. "Never had the chance," he answered. "Minding a cycle shop for Father didn't give one opportunities of going hunting, and besides, there isn't much to be had in England, not of the sort you mean."
Of a sudden, as they sped along in the train, his thoughts went back to the little township in which he had spent his boyhood, till the moment had arrived for him to emigrate. He could not help but contrast his condition here in Canada with what it had been there, and with what it might have been had he remained. Travel and the wide expanse of New Ontario lands had broadened Joe's mind, as it is bound to broaden the outlook that any traveller takes of the world. Joe was, in fact, beginning to realize that there is some truth in the statement that travel is one of the finest educations.
"In course it is," asserted Hank, when he broached the subject, with the idea of starting up a conversation with the little hunter. "How could it fail to be? Don't I know the lives of them stay-at-homes. They work hard, no doubt. They does their whack of toil that helps to make the earth turn round, as you might say, and keep things hummin'; but, 'cept for the papers and sichlike, they ain't got two ideas as to what other people's like, what they does with themselves, and how they lives. And there's more, too, ef I could tell you. Stay-at-homes is sometimes narrow-minded. Narrow-mindedness gives rise to suspicion, so that it follows that men who are ignorant of one another's affairs and of all that concerns 'em is often not too good friends. That's how it is with nations. One don't know the other, and suspects all sorts of things. Wall, see what's happenin'. The railways and the steamships and them motor cars has made a deal of difference. People move about a heap these days and see other people. So they get to understand 'em, and, understandin' them, they see as they ain't much different to themselves; also, they see that their intentions are just as friendly as their own. And what follows? Why, better understanding, and the way is paved to international friendships. Dear, how jawin' do tire a man! I'm on fer a smoke."
He shut up like the proverbial oyster, leaving Joe to go on immersed in his own particular brown study. He was wondering now what the Fennicks had been doing with themselves, for though he had had a few lines from them, he had had but the scantiest information; he had heard, in fact, that they had settled, and that was all. Whether they had been fortunate in finding exactly the class of surroundings they desired, and whether the land they had chosen was rich, he had no idea. This he knew, they were a two-days' march from the railway, so that he and Hank had a long step before them.
"Guess we'll fill up at Sudbury," said Hank, after a while. "There's a gun wanted fer you, and ammunition for both of us. A shooter, too, ain't out of the way. We shall require warm clothing, too, though we'll trust to our shooting to get us pelts and make the most of those. A kettle, a fry-pan, and a few sich trifles will fill our kit, and then we'll step it to the Fennicks'. Guess we ain't so far from Sudbury now."
They found all they required in the town to which they had booked on the railway, and laid out quite a number of dollars in buying necessaries for their journey; for Hank insisted that salt, sugar, coffee, and tea were as necessary to them as were bullets. Each bought three pairs of thick socks, as well as roughly-fashioned fur gloves. The cooking equipment presented no difficulties, while neither bothered to buy extra boots.
"They'd load us up, that's all," said Hank; "besides, they ain't no use with snowshoes. You wait a bit till we're well away. We'll bag a few beasts that will give us skins, and then ef Hank can't make moccasins and caps and sichlike, why, all his eddication in the woods is lost. We've got enough as it is to carry, and come the time we reaches up at Fennicks' we'll be sorry we brought so much."
"What about some sort of covering for the night?" asked Joe, who was as yet ignorant on such matters.
"Coverin'?" asked Hank, scratching his head.
"Yes; surely we shall need it. It'll be frightfully cold, that is, if the story I have heard is true."
"True enough, lad," agreed Hank; "only, yer see, you and I'll be movin' every day, and exercise on snowshoes warms a man's blood. I know lots of young fellows who go off from their farms when snow's lyin' everywhere and the thermometer is 'way down below zero; but their shirts is open in front jest as ef it war summer, while they ain't got no use fer gloves. We'll be much the same, while at night a lean-to—a double lean-to, you understand—made by driving two forked sticks into the snow and laying one across the forks, with others leaning up agin it, will give us a crib that couldn't be beaten fer warmth. I kin hear folks that stays at home always shiverin' talkin' of rheumatism; but there ain't nothing of that. A man who starts healthy through a Canadian winter can keep healthy. Of course there's blizzards, and nasty, dangerous things they are! I've laid in one of them lean-to shacks as I've mentioned fer a week together till the snow was piled deep over the top, and would ha' broken through ef I hadn't crawled out every few hours and beaten it down. Cold? It warn't! It war hot inside that 'ere crib. As fer lonely, wall, to some folks it might be, but to me and mates like me—no, not bit! There's always a gun wants cleaning; logs has to be broke and the fire kept going, and there's tea and sichlike to prepare; while in between a man's got his pipe, and can smoke and think. Thinkin' ain't bad fer a man, nor fer a woman, ef it comes to that. There's many a time 'way back in my life when I might ha' done different and better. Wall, then, rememberin' that aer good; it's a sort of eddication. Then there's friends that you've knowed and had high times with. Guess it's when a man gets stuck up in a blizzard, with only his pipe to smoke, that he gets thinking of his old pals, wondering what they're doing, where they are, and how the world aer going fer them generally."
"But what about frostbite?" asked Joe, for that was a bogy which had been presented to him in glaring colours.
Hank laughed, a silent little laugh which shook every inch of his frail body. "Them old woman's tales was invented to scare new folks out from home," he said. "There's frostbites and there's frostbites. I ain't saying that they don't exist, but a hunter don't often get 'em, unless he's held up somewheres and can't get cover. His blood runs strong and hot most times, and the frost don't touch him. But it's the man who ain't used to the cold, and who huddles up in a shack most of the day, that gets bitten. Ef he's sensible, or has sensible friends, it don't make much harm to him. Ef not, like as not he loses a toe or a finger, or maybe a foot, though it's rare, so far as I'm able to reckon. You ain't likely to get bit; a chap same as you, who's always on the hop, gets his blood runnin' all the time. Don't you give a thought to it, Joe."
Having stayed in the town sufficiently long to complete their equipment, Joe and Hank finally took the track for that part of the country in which the Fennicks had settled. The weather was still quite open, though cold. But the bracing air agreed wonderfully with them both, and though there was not the smallest need for haste, they stepped out strongly, sending the miles rapidly behind them. It was some distance outside the town that they came upon a party of travellers riding in, and recognized Mike, the policeman, as one of them.
"Hallo, Mike!" sang out Hank. "Been after more of them 'ere murderers? How'd the case go with Hurley? This here Joe ha' been waitin' case he should be called for evidence; but he heard a while ago as he warn't likely to be wanted."
The face of the huge policeman, already tanned a deep colour, went red under his tan, while an expression of annoyance flitted across his features.
"We made a muss of that 'ere thing, Hank," he declared. "Joe wasn't called for the simple reason that the folks who'd taken Hurley in charge let him give 'em the slip. He got clear away, and I'm jest now returning after a chase. He's gone—where, I don't know. But he's got clear, which aer a bad nuisance. Jest you mind that you don't come up agin him. He's not the one to forget old scores, and he'd rub it in ef he'd the power. Wall, so long! I must get back and report; someone's going to get trouble over this business."
They parted where they had met, Hank and Joe pushing onward still at a sharp pace.
"I'm jest sorry that Hurley got clear," said Hank, after a while, as if he had been thinking the matter out. "He's a bad man aer Hurley, and bad men away in the wilds are apt to bring trouble to people. I've knowed one who took up with a party of Redskins wandering in the forests, and, gee! he didn't stop at anything. He'd made bad trouble before the police rounded him up and shot him down. Let's hope we shan't knock across this Hurley. Now, lad, guess we'll do another mile or so and then fix our camp fer the night. Looks ter me as ef it might snow, so we'll be wise to make all snug and tidy."
They came to a halt finally beside a small wood, and, penetrating to a part where the trees were of considerable size, deposited their belongings on the ground.
"Don't do to camp where it's damp, in the fust place," explained Hank. "Where there's muskegs the trees soon rot, and ef a wind springs up you might have the trunks coming about your ears, to say nothing of rotten branches. This place is high and dry, and the trees, being stout and well inside the wood, will stand up to a gale. Now fer that shack I was talking about. Look out fer a tidy long-forked stick, and fer other straight ones to lay across."
Hank was evidently a past master at all that appertained to camping, for even without Joe's aid he would soon have erected the shack. Taking two forked sticks, he drove the straight end in each case as deeply into the ground as he was able; a third was laid over the forks, and then a number were allowed to lean against the one laid horizontally. Thus a species oftente d'abriwas constructed, and a roofing quickly put to it, by the simple means of slashing off spruce twigs and branches and laying them on top.
"That ain't always enough," explained Hank. "Ef there's a bad wind, it would blow all them branches away. But it don't take long to cut turfs or to peg the branches down, whichever you've a fancy for. Seein' as the ground in here ain't over-hard, we'll take turfs; the wind won't hurt 'em, and ef it turns to rain instead o' snow, why, not a drop'll fall through. Now fer a bed—one between us, mate, for we'll be companions in every way. A pile of these spruce twigs will suit us well; then we'll light the fire and get the kettle going. A pot of tea with a morsel to bite won't come amiss after our march. How do yer think you'll like prospecting?"
Joe did not think; he was emphatic about the matter, for the farther they went the better he enjoyed the trip. He busied himself now with the fire, for, during the chase of Hurley, George Bailey had taught him much that concerned the culinary portion of a camp. Then he produced a small loin of pork, and, cutting portions from it, soon had them sizzling over the flames.
"My, what with the smell of these here spruce boughs and that 'ere pork, it makes a hunter's mouth jest water!" declared Hank, sitting down to watch Joe, and smoking the pipe which he loved so much. "See here, youngster, while you're gettin' supper ready I'll collect a few more logs. There's never any sayin' what sort of weather we may have, and ef we was short of firin' we'd have to eat cold grub, which ain't over fanciful, I kin tell you."
By the time he was back in the camp Joe had a number of pieces of pork cooked, and was fain to admit himself that the smell of cooking them was most appetizing. Then, as the shades of night drew in, he and Hank—as strangely an assorted couple as one could well come upon—sat down in the entrance of their humble shack and, wrapping blankets about their shoulders, ate their supper, enjoying every mouthful of it as others cannot do, even your gourmet set before the most recherché meal that was ever invented; for an active open-air life gives zest to everything. Your traveller does not complain of the toughness of his steak or of the weakness of his tea. He is thankful for all that is set before him, and with appetite sharpened by exercise, and tastes unspoiled and unpampered by a multiplicity of viands and etceteras, eats heartily, thankful that there is food to be had, mindful perhaps of other times when he went hungry.
"Wind's turned," stated Hank, as he rose after supper. "It's got away round, and we're in for a north-easter. That mostly brings snow, so I shouldn't wonder ef we was buried nigh the mornin'. That means snowshoes, and it aer a lucky thing that I brought all the fixings. There's many as buys their snowshoes. I ain't one of them. Ever sense I was as high as a table I've made 'em myself. Throw on another log, Joe, and let's get snug down inside. And jest for a moment have a look at our shack. You can see that I've faced it so that the opening looks west and south. Ef there's snow from the north-east it won't enter so easy, though, in course, there'll be eddies in here amongst the trees, and some of it'll be blowed in."
Tossing branches on the fire, Joe soon joined his comrade, when the two wrapped their blankets round them and were quickly asleep; but at midnight they were awakened by noise without, and crept to the exit of their shack.
"Blowin' moderate," said Hank, "and my, ain't it snowin'! Lucky there's a moon. It makes it look as ef the weather wouldn't be outrageous."
Joe was enchanted when he looked out into the forest. It was his first real taste of a Canadian winter; for here, besides the cold blast which whistled amongst the trees, there was snow. Flakes eddied and twirled everywhere. They came sidling down upon the shack as if afraid to disturb the campers. They had already formed a white carpet over the ground, while many a branch was groaning beneath the added weight. Under the rays of a pale, wintry moon the scene was simply enchanting.
"Beautiful!" declared our hero. "And just fancy being in camp at such a time! It would make them all sit up and have fits away back in Old England."
"It'd make men of some of them that needs changin'," grunted Hank. "You jest wait a tidy bit. This ain't nothing to what we'll get before we've done with the winter. But let's creep back agin'. It ain't too warm outside, and reckon the inside of that 'ere shack aer as comfortable as a feather bed under the roof of a palace."
It was, in fact. Joe's head hardly touched the heaped pillow of twigs when he fell asleep, and slumbered on, oblivious of the increasing sounds without and of the silent snowflakes settling overhead.
CHAPTER XII
The Canadian Winter
"It aer jest blowin' an almighty gale, and there ain't nothing to do but feed and make our snowshoes," said Hank, when early on the following morning he and Joe looked out of the shack. "It aer a lucky thing fer us that we brought a tidy-sized piece of pork along with us, 'cos this gale might last fer days. Not as I think it will, but it might; and ef we hadn't had plenty of grub, gee! it would ha' been a bad case."
Such a prospect met Joe's gaze when he stood to his full height and, having helped to throw the snow away from the entrance of the shack, peered over the white edge before him! The trees on either hand were heavily laden with snow. Branches here and there had crashed to the ground and lay in an unrecognizable heap, save for a twig here or a stronger bough there thrusting a way upward into the light; for all around everything was covered, smoothly clad in an all-pervading vestment of white. Gorgeous blue shadows lurked here and there, the faintness of the colouring adding to its beauty. Long icicles, beside which those to be seen in England were but babies, hung from branches already overweighted, one, a ponderous fellow, drooping to within a few feet of the shack; for the heat of the fire had melted the snow as it fell upon a branch above, and had produced this monster with the help of the frost.
"You kin get in at breakfast," said Hank, looking about him with the manner of a man who saw nothing extraordinary about the transformation which had arrived since the day before. "The fire's been out this two hours, so you'd best start another."
Joe showed his want of experience at once, for he began to rake away the snow, so as to get down to the ashes of the fire he had built on the evening of their arrival. But Hank stopped him with a merry guffaw.
"That ain't the way," he said. "You start buildin' yer fire right here on top of the snow. It'll eat its way down. Yer see, ef you was to begin right down in a hole, there wouldn't be any sorter draught, and how's flames to get in at the damp wood ef you don't have draught to help 'em? But once they get movin', and things is hot, why, in course the fire burns its way slowly downward to the ground level, when there ain't sich draught required."
It was one of the sort of things Joe and many another new to this country, and to such quaint surroundings, would never have thought of, though he was quick to see the reason in Hank's explanation. He arranged his logs, therefore, on the top of the snow, and then removed them once more.
"Wall?" asked Hank, who seemed always to have one eye for our hero, whatever he happened to be doing himself. "What are the game now?"
"Too much draught, that's all," grinned Joe, blowing on his fingers, for an icy wind whirled the flakes about him. "Too much of it, Hank. Blow the fire out or set our shack alight. Fine that'd be—eh?"
The little hunter grinned widely and nodded vigorously. "Good fer you," he shouted. "I've knowd chaps as would ha' taken a month o' Sundays ter spot that. There's some as is jest almighty windbags, and go about talkin' so much that they can't think, let alone allow others that has a mind to. There's something in bein' silent at times, Joe. A man ain't a fool 'cos he stays quiet takin' in things as they happen."
He sniffed the air as Joe's pork steaks began to frizzle, and looked up from the work he was engaged on when the kettle began to send out a merry tune, heard in spite of the howling wind. Steam whistled from the spout, and was the signal for Hank to step across to the canteen and extract the tea leaves which were to form their staple beverage during the trip.
"Tea aer comfortin'," he had said many a time, "and tea aer sustainin'. There ain't a one as I knows of that don't drink tea and feel better fer it. In course there's a few as is ill and find it hurts 'em, but, gee! you get to thinkin' of all the old ladies who swears by a cup! As fer hunters and prospectors and sich-like, tea don't hurt none of 'em. Summertime, when it's cold, it quenches thirst better nor anything I've met. And winter, when it's that cold you can't feel yer hands, why, a tin dish of the stuff warms yer right down into yer boots and sets toes and fingers tingling. Pitch in the dose, lad. I'm that set this mornin', seems to me I could eat all you've cooked single-handed, and a tidy slice more in addition."
It was all good-humoured fun, and Joe found that Hank was a splendid travelling companion; for he had proved time and again now that he had a means to get over more than ordinary difficulties, and that whatever the times, pleasant or foul, he was genial and bright, always looking on the right side of misfortunes.
"Now, jest as soon as you've cleaned up these here things, we'll finish off the shoes and try 'em," said Hank, when they had eaten their fill. "I brought along these two sets of frames from home, they being the ones I made this four year back. The strip to go across 'em war to be had back there in the settlement, and all we've got to do is to bind it on. Ever been across snow afore, lad?"
Joe had to acknowledge that he had not. As he melted snow in his kettle and washed the few tin utensils they carried with the resulting water, he watched the busy fingers of the hunter threading raw hide strips through holes bored in the tough, bending wood which formed the frames of the snowshoes. Then he was shown how to lash them to his feet, while a little later he essayed to test them, and, clambering out of the hollow which they now occupied, joined Hank on the snow. But Joe did not remain long there; a projecting bough brought his attempt to a sudden ending. One shoe caught badly, and before our hero knew precisely what was happening or where he was going, he took a header into the soft snow, till Hank could merely see a pair of shoes waving wildly above it.
"You jest try agin, and take care of snags comin' up from below," he cautioned our hero. "This here snowshoein' ain't really difficult. A fellow soon gets the knack or hang of it, and then he can go across frozen and snowed-under country quicker'n he could walk ef the ground was hard and he jest in boots. You stick to it, mate; nothing was ever larned but what caused trouble."
Joe did stick to it, in spite of the wind howling about him, and though he took many a tumble, there was nothing in that soft, unfrozen snow to do him injury; and in course of time he became more handy.
"You ain't done badly fer one lesson," said Hank encouragingly. "Best give in for a time now and go inside the shack. It aer snowin' a trifle harder, and sense it's gettin' dark too, it seems to me as ef the wust war before us. We'll smoke and sleep; a long rest won't harm either of us. 'Sides, there's heaps we could do. Now, see here, Joe. I don't rightly know much about England, nor more'n a little bit about Europe. Jest you get in at the job and tell me about it all. When you're tired I'll yarn to you all about the other provinces in Canada, for I've been in most of 'em. It might turn out handy for you, for one of these days you may be going west. They say out here that a settler in Manitoba or Ontario stays jest so long as is wanted to make enough dollars, then he streaks off west and takes to fruit farming, or settles nigh to Vancouver. In course he goes so as to have more folks about him, and also because the winter is a good deal less severe. Fer me, give me this sort of thing; I ain't afraid of winter."
Hank was a cheery individual to have to deal with and Joe found him, as one might have expected, a most attentive and intelligent listener. It was well, too, that they got on so easily together, for the gale lasted some twenty-four hours longer, though snow ceased to fall long before the wind had subsided. This change was followed by a sudden rise in temperature and then by a fierce frost.
"Couldn't have been better fer us," declared Hank. "That 'ere thaw made the snow soft and sloppy on top. Now it's all ice, and it aer likely we shall be able in parts to walk without snowshoes. In any case, the shoes will hold us up over the deepest drifts, seein' that there's now a firm skin all over. Guess we'll move come mornin'."
Busy always, for he could not sit down, in spite of his own statements to the contrary, and remain idle, Hank that evening, with the aid of a torch of the yellow birch bark, instructed Joe how to fashion moccasins, the soft leather socks and boots combined, with which all trappers and hunters are shod. Using some of the same hide which he had employed for the snowshoes, he laid out a pattern in a few moments, and then, with the small blade of a knife to bore the holes, and a thin lace of the same material, laced the sides of the sock together.
"In course, like that it ain't waterproof," he said, "and though trappers ain't so very careful, yet ef you've to march miles in moccasins, and has to sleep in 'em during the night, you might jest as well have comfort and dry feet. We'll march along in these to-morrow. It'll be easier than using snowshoes, for the surface is nice and hard. Soon as we kill a beast or two we'll make ourselves an extra pair, so as to have a change."
A brilliant wintry sun flooded the landscape as the two emerged from the forest on the following morning, and Joe got some idea of Canada's appearance once winter has set in. Everywhere a mantle of snow covered the ground, while trees, bushes, and rocks were clad in a thin coating of ice following the thaw. As for the surface of the snow, it was harder than that so much in request for skiing in Switzerland. The sharp thaw had liquefied the surface for a depth of perhaps half an inch, and this was now frozen hard.
"Likely as not there'll come another thaw," said Hank, "and in a jiffy almost all this snow'll go, and the country be jest as it war before. But that won't last long. Now that November's set in, we soon gets winter fer good, and then it ain't till late March that there's a sign of its ending. Sometimes it's later; sometimes earlier. But once the snow's down, we gets bright days same as this often enough, and though the thermometer may show thirty and forty degrees below zero, one don't seem to feel it. Now, lad, put yer best foot forward; we ain't goin' to fetch up at Fennick's to-night. This here snow'll delay us; but ter-morrer, somewheres about noon."
With their packs slung over their backs, and each one using a strong stick, the two went away on their journey, sometimes travelling over a smooth expanse which must have been the surface of some frozen lake, of which there are many in that part of Canada, and at other times plunging into forests. The backwoods, in fact, extended as far as the eye could reach, with open spaces here and there. Joe enjoyed the journey amazingly. Think of the delights of such a new experience. Well clad, and in suitable clothing, he was as warm as a toast, while the unwonted exercise and the crispness of the frosty air made him step out as he had never done before. Hank even was hard put to to keep up with his young comrade.
"Blest ef you won't tire me one of these fine days," he cried, calling for a halt. "It's them long legs of yourn; they takes you along over the snow quicker'n mine. Do yer feel lonely, lad?"
Joe shook his head with marked emphasis. "Not a bit," he said, "though if I were by myself I might very well do so. But there's something new to look at all the while, and the sun is so jolly. Still, I can imagine a farm hand, stuck away in some place right away from the villages or townships, eating his heart out if he had never been used to the wilds."
"Jest so; and that's why it is that bad tales of Canadian winters gets out of the Dominion and reaches the ears of those thinkin' of emigrating. It stands to reason that ef you take a young fellow that's lived in a thickly-populated town all his life and plank him away right in the wilds, he aer likely to feel lonesome come the winter, specially ef he ain't got move enough on him to find a job or so to occupy his time. He'll get thinking of the picture palaces and sichlike he might be able to see ef he was back in a town, and he gets grumbling. Even married folks do. I've knowed a chap go half crazy long afore the winter was ended—but then, there you are!"
He raised his eyes significantly, for Hank had experience of what every old settler has seen amongst newcomers. The life in the Dominion is new to them. The winter is cruelly hard, without a shadow of doubt; but grumbling does not help matters. Those who are ready to grumble at their surroundings find the winter more than trying. Those who have their hearts in the new life, and the firm resolve to persevere and be successful, make the most and the best of what cannot be avoided, and in place of longing for old conditions, for the amusements of a town, settle down to find tasks to occupy their attention. As Hank had told Joe before, and Peter also, there was always furniture to be made for the shack. The winter months, when the shack was as warm as possible, was just the time when papering and whitewashing could be done. There were, in fact, a number of jobs to keep idle hands busy, to help pass the time, and to aid settlers to happiness. However, if the winter were hard elsewhere, Joe found this, his first experience of it, most exhilarating. He trudged along blithely, whistling often. It was a couple of hours after noon, when they had eaten and were on their way once more, that something occurred to interrupt the journey. They were thrusting their way noiselessly through a wooded glade, when Hank brought his companion to a stop.
"There's been moose hereabouts," he told Joe, pointing to the snow. "You could tell it blindfold, for though there ain't no footmarks, there's deep holes. Yer see, a moose is that heavy and his feet so small comparatively, that the hard crust of snow that's frozen ain't strong enough to hold him up. He goes through deep ef he's making a new track, while ef he and his mates has been along afore, there's a deep hard path that there ain't no mistakin'. There's been jest one along here; it's likely they has a yard 'way up here."
"A yard?" asked Joe, ignorant of what that might be. "What's a yard?"
"Jest a place to which moose flock every winter almost. In course it's more or less open ground what's known as a 'barren', and there is always heaps of the class of trees and moss on which they feed. They congregates and treads the snow flat, and lives there till their food is eaten; then off they goes to form another. Jest you slip along easy, lad; a bull moose ain't the sorter fellow one asks to come up aginst."
A mile or so farther on it was evident that the moose whose tracks they were following, and who happened to have preceded them in their own direction, joined a well-worn track which plunged at once into forest. It was then that Hank again came to a sudden halt.
"Did you hear that sort of cough?" he asked. "That's a bull moose fer sure; 'praps we'll come in fer some shootin'. Anyway, reckon we'll get our guns unslung and ready in case."
Slipping cartridges into the breaches of their rifles, the two proceeded cautiously, and before many minutes had passed heard a succession of sounds which puzzled Joe immensely. Someone might have been thrashing the trunks of the trees with a heavy stake; at times the sounds were almost metallic, while now and again an angry cough came to their ears.
"It aer a moose bull fer sure," whispered Hank. "Yer see, the wind's fallen and there ain't a breath, else he'd have scented us long ago; what's more, there's been something happenin' to upset his temper. Bull moose aer the angriest, fiercest things as ever I clapped eyes on. One moment they'll run at the very shadow of a human, and next they'll charge with their heads up and their spreading antlers ready for the enemy. Hark there, he's 'sounding'!"
When our hero had the latter term explained to him, he gathered that it meant that the moose, scenting an enemy or a rival bull moose, perhaps, had halted and was thrashing some tree stump with his antlers, till a succession of blows sounded through the forest, for all the world as if lumbermen were at work with their axes. Then followed a series of lower-toned noises.
"He aer fairly working hisself up fer a fight," whispered Hank, crouching behind a trunk. "That 'ere bull moose aer laying into the trees with his fore hoofs, and lucky we are that it ain't us. Their fore hoofs is just edged as sharp as any axe and would cut badly, while a dig with the antlers would kill a man. You kin lay it as sartin that there's another bull moose around. Mayhap there's been a cow moose a-callin'. That's brought two of the others along, and now, ef I ain't altogether mistaken, there's likely to be an almighty ruction, for it ain't in reason fer one moose to give way to another; they're terrible fighters. Jest about this time o' the year they're in grand condition, and fights take place constantly. I ain't never seed one, but I've come up to moose as was in them as was nigh killed. Come along quietly; we may have a peep at what's happenin'."
Creeping on through the wood, the strange sounds which they had heard were for a time altogether absent. But it was not for long, for a dull croaking cough suddenly reached them from an opposite direction, and was followed instantly by loud and furious "sounding" and by a huge clatter that told of falling branches. Ten minutes later Hank put up his hand and slank in behind a thick mass of underwood.
"Look away over there," he whispered hoarsely. "He aer hidin' jest in amongst the trees, and another challenge from his rival will bring him out. Ain't he layin' into the trunks and sichlike?"
The noise made by the furious beast became in fact even greater, while there was a commotion amongst the branches and withered leaves which still clung in places. A second later there came a croaking roar from some point to the right, the trees in that direction were thrust asunder, while a magnificent beast pushed its way into the clearing. Joe's eyes opened wide in amazement, for never had he beheld such a sight. There, standing erect before him, was one of the wonders of the Dominion; in fact, one of the deer tribe peculiar to Canada, which, unlike ordinary deer, noted for their timidity, was obviously the reverse. A coat of shimmering black clothed the beast, setting off a neck and shoulders which were decidedly massive; huge palmated antlers of enormous breadth crowned a head which was large, like other portions of this animal, and extremely fierce in aspect. Grand upper limbs supported on slender lower ones, both streaked with orange lines, were finished off by shapely hoofs, which, as Hank had said, could be extremely dangerous. The animal made a truly magnificent spectacle, and Joe could have continued gazing at him for a considerable time. However, there was more to come yet, for of a sudden the leaves away to the right parted, and a second moose bull, bigger if anything than he who had already appeared, came striding into the arena.
"It'll be a fight that'll be worth watchin'," whispered Hank, his face set with excitement, his eyes blazing. "See 'em charge."
It took perhaps less than a minute for the two rivals to take stock of one another. A glance at either showed that their courage was raised to the highest and their tempers ferocious. Then they charged furiously, their heads down and their formidable antlers to the front. The shock of their meeting could have been heard a mile away, while Joe could easily hear their loud hissing breathing. Rising very cautiously so as to obtain a better view, he looked on spellbound while the two massive beasts fought for the victory, sometimes with their antlers locked, and then, separating for a little space, only to dash forward once more and come into contact with a crash which vibrated through the forest. It was at one of the moments when they withdrew from one another, as if to gather strength for another charge, that the brute Joe and Hank had first come upon suddenly threw up his head and gazed in their direction, causing both of them to crouch lower; then there came a bellowing roar and a commotion there could be no misunderstanding.
"He's scented us and is charging," cried Hank, leaping to his feet. "There ain't nothing for it but a tree. Quick, Joe; climb into one!"
So sudden had been the change, that our hero was altogether taken aback and, as it were, robbed of his energies. He could be quick enough at other times, but now, when there was urgent need for haste, his feet seemed too heavy, while as yet he had hardly taken in the danger of the situation. It was when he saw Hank's active figure already shinning up a tree that Joe awakened to his own position. By then the moose was within some ten yards of him, its head down, coughing and bellowing angrily.
"Dodge him! Dodge him!" shouted Hank, now astride a branch and looking as if he were about to leap down to aid his comrade. "Don't try to climb, or he'll cut you to pieces with his hoofs. Dodge him, lad!"
Joe heeded the warning, and, darting to one side, took cover behind a slender oak which happened to be there. But if he thought it would protect him he was much mistaken, for the moose charged madly, and, striking the tree with head and antlers, broke it off short at the bottom, sending the other portion and our hero flying together. In fact, the whole thing was a huge surprise, and might well have been expected to rob Joe of his wits altogether. But a sharp pang in his shoulder as the trunk struck him heavily seemed to sharpen his energies, and, leaping to his feet, he raced at once to another tree and sheltered behind it. Then began a chase that was anything but amusing, for the moose bull struck repeatedly at him, making the tree shake, and sending the sound of his blows echoing and reverberating through the forest. He rose on his hind legs and slashed fiercely with his fore legs, ripping long strips of bark away. It looked, in fact, as if any one of his rushes might take Joe unawares, and that his dodging behind the tree might come to a sudden ending. As for Hank, he was entirely helpless, for it was this selfsame tree in which he had taken refuge, while his own and our hero's rifles lay behind the thick underwood where they had been hiding. However, the little man was not the one to give in without a struggle, more particularly when Joe's life might depend upon his efforts, and presently a brilliant thought came to his aid.