Chapter Seven.

Chapter Seven.Mike’s precaution—We again go buffalo-hunting—The prairie on fire—A ride for life—Our escape from the fire and the Indians—Hobbling horses—The fire is stopped by the river—A brief sleep—Our fishing tackle—Mike catches a cat-fish—Our lean-to—Mike loses his book—The visit of Bruin—A hearty meal—Death of Mike’s horse—I am taken sick—Mike’s careful watch—My horse is drowned—Our visit to the rice-Lake—We find Lily and Dora there, with Ashatea, in a canoe, gathering rice—Lily’s account of Manilick, the young chief, Ashatea’s lover—Kepenau’s address—Again taken ill—How I recover.Mike and I were on the watch for an opportunity of mounting our horses and galloping off unperceived by the Indians; but, though they feasted for several successive days, that opportunity never came. Unfortunately, so far as our enterprise was concerned, they had no whisky in the camp, and were therefore able to watch our movements.In a few days the hunters again set out, to obtain a further supply of buffalo robes; not that these were required for their own use, but they intended to exchange them with the traders for whisky and other articles—especially firearms and ammunition. The chief and two or three of the leading men had already procured weapons, although as yet they were by no means expert in their use.“They’ll soon give us a chance, if they get howld of the whisky,” observed Mike; “so we must have patience till that happy time comes.”As we had proved ourselves such expert hunters on the previous occasion, the Indians decided to take us with them, and allowed us to select two capital horses, as also some tough spears and a supply of arrows. We likewise stowed away, at Mike’s suggestion, as much dried buffalo meat as our pouches would hold. “There is no harm in having it,” he observed; “and it may just come in convanient if we get the chance of giving our rid-skinned frinds the slip.”I was glad to find that the Indians were directing their course to the north-west of the camp, towards a plain on which, the scouts had brought word, buffalo had been seen feeding the previous evening, and it was supposed that they were not yet likely to have got far off. When we reached the ground, however, it was found that they had gone away further to the northward, so chase was immediately made after them. The herd must have gone on at a somewhat rapid rate, for we forded several streams, and entered on a part of the prairie across which, after riding a few miles, we could see nothing but the waving grass on every side.The chief had of late been friendly, and kept Mike and me near him. He was evidently pleased with the good-humour we exhibited, and probably thought that we were contented with our lot.At last we came in sight of the rear-guard of the herd, when the Indians at once gave chase.We had been riding on for some time, the buffalo evidently moving at a greater speed than they do under ordinary circumstances, when the chief, who was on the right of the party, stopped, and looking round him, shouted to those who were within hearing. I could not understand what he said, and asked Mike if he could.“Sure, it’s something not altogether plisant,” he answered. “Look there, Masther Roger. What does that mane?”He pointed, as he spoke, to a long line of what looked like grey mist, forming wreaths, and rising above the horizon to the westward.I saw several of the Indians standing up in their stirrups and gazing in the same direction. They knew perfectly well what it was, but they were trying to ascertain a point of vital importance to us all. The prairie was on fire! Of that there was no doubt; but, in order to give themselves the best chance of saving their lives, it was necessary to settle, before galloping forward, what course to take.While the Indians were discussing this point, Mike, who had been looking about him, exclaimed to me,—“There is one way we want to go, and that is to the north-east. Never mind if we do get singed a little, for sure, as we came along, I remember that we passed several swamps. If we can get into one of them we shall be safe, as the fire won’t be afther crossing the wather.”“But the Indians will probably take the same direction,” I observed.“Sure, if they intinded doing that same, they would have been off at once,” he answered. “They have some raison for what they think of doing, and we have another for what we will do; so come along, Masther Roger. There’s only one thing I mourn for, and that is me fiddle; but no matther; maybe I will be afther getting that another time. Whallop-ahoo-aboo! Erin go bragh!” Then digging his heels into his horse’s flanks, he set off in the direction he proposed; and I, seeing that the Indians were too much occupied to notice us, galloped after him.As I turned my head I saw them scampering along towards the north-west. The fire having approached with far greater rapidity than I could have supposed possible, I began to fear that they were right and we were wrong, when I saw the flames catching the dry grass and flaring up furiously, with dense masses of black smoke above them, and already scarcely a mile behind us; indeed, they looked very much nearer. Onward came the conflagration, faster than any horse could gallop. Happily we had the start of it, but we must, we knew, keep our steeds at the utmost stretch of their powers to maintain a safe distance.As our course diverged more and more from that of the Indians, they soon discovered our object, and shouted to us to accompany them.“Bawl away, me boys!” answered Mike. “It is not convanient just now to attind to you.”When our intention became clearly evident, the chief despatched two of his people in pursuit of us; but we kept well ahead of our pursuers, and they, fearing that the fire would overtake them, turned and took the same direction as the main body. Soon after this we lost sight of our late companions.“I would be well contint never to set eyes on you again, me jewels,” said Mike, shaking his spear as a sign of farewell.Although my companion kept up his spirits, I could not avoid fearing that, after all, the fire would overtake us. Happily our horses were fleet and in good wind, as we had not exhausted them during the early part of the day; and all we could do at present was to gallop on. The wind, of which there had hitherto been very little, now got up, and blew almost in our faces, driving the fire in the direction the Indians had taken, and at the same time keeping it back from that in which we were going. Still on came the fire, the whole country in our rear apparently one mass of flame. Even now, did we stop, we should be overtaken. Happily for us, there were no buffalo in the direction from which the fire was coming, or we should have run the danger of being overwhelmed by them. Smaller animals, however, came rushing by us or close at our heels, but too much frightened even to notice us; and we were in too great a hurry to interfere with them.I am almost afraid to say how many miles we covered in a couple of hours, but certainly not till that time had elapsed did we get to a safe distance from the fire; and even then, on looking back, we could see it raging along the whole verge of the horizon to the westward and southward. It was clear to me that Mike was mistaken about the swamps, and had not the wind, providentially for us, changed, we should probably have fallen victims.We now slackened our speed a little, hoping to meet with some broad river which might prove a barrier to the flames, should another change of wind drive them towards us, as there was nothing, so far as we could see, to stop the fire from quickly overtaking us. Our horses, too, were already suffering from want of water, and so were we. We therefore eagerly looked out for a pool or stream at which we might slake our thirst. At length, greatly to our joy, as evening was approaching, we caught sight in the far distance of a silvery line of water glittering in the rays of the western sun. It was a river running from the north-west to the south-east, and as we approached we saw that it was of considerable width. Should it not prove fordable, we resolved to swim across.With infinite satisfaction we reached the bank of the river, and descending quickly, allowed our horses to drink; while, stooping down by their sides, we lapped up the water eagerly with our hands. It seemed as if we could never drink enough. When we had somewhat slaked our thirst, we looked about for a place at which to cross. From the appearance of the current a little lower down, we hoped that we should there find the river fordable; we accordingly agreed to lead our horses to it.On climbing up the bank we observed that the fire was still raging in the direction from whence we had come; and it was evidently very much nearer. We had wished to allow our animals to rest and recover their strength before attempting to cross; but on again looking back we saw that there was no time to be lost. We accordingly at once mounted, and urged our steeds into the water, keeping their heads up the stream.As we advanced it grew deeper and deeper, and we expected every moment to have our horses taken off their legs; still it would not do to turn back. Our greatest chance of safety lay in pushing forward. The cool water restored strength to our beasts, and, sagaciously leaning over against the current, they soon got across the deep part. We had now no further difficulty, and in a few minutes landed safely on the opposite side. Fortunately there was plenty of fresh herbage, and we allowed the animals to crop it, while we sat down and discussed some of the pemmican with which, by Mike’s forethought, we had provided ourselves. Without it we should have starved; for we could find nothing eatable anywhere around. As night was approaching, and our horses were too much knocked up to go further, we resolved to remain on the bank of the river till the morning. We accordingly hobbled the animals, and then looked about for some place which might afford us shelter.Our search was rewarded by the discovery of a hollow made by the stream in the bank during the spring floods. Here we hoped that we might rest secure from danger. Indians were not likely to be passing at that time of the evening, and no wolves would find their way, we believed, into our cave. Our horses were, of course, more exposed to risk than ourselves; but we were obliged to let them take their chance, for unless they were allowed to feed during the night they would be unable to carry us the next day.After leaving our horses to pick up their supper, we were about to return to our cave, when, on looking to the eastward, we observed that the fire was making most rapid progress in our direction. We felt thankful indeed that we were on the right side of the river.On came the conflagration, the heat sensibly increasing every minute, while dark wreaths of smoke filled the air, below which the burning grass and shrubs hissed and crackled. The darkness of night added to the fearful character of the scene. As far as the eye could reach there appeared a long unbroken line of fire: now, as it caught some thick bush or clump of trees, forked flames rose high in the air; in other places it came along maintaining the same height, but ever advancing, till it reached the bank of the river, when every shrub and tree was enveloped in a sheet of fire; and notwithstanding the width of the river, we expected every instant to see some of the sparks carried across, and the whole country on our side given over to destruction. We might save our own lives, but our horses would inevitably be lost.We sat anxiously watching the conflagration as it raged along the entire bank: now the sparks, wafted by the wind, flew high into the air; now burning branches fell hissing into the water.“It’s all very fine,” observed Mike, after watching it for some time; “but I would rather be afther going quietly to slape.”I felt quite as tired as did Mike, but I sat up till my eyes began to close and my head to droop, and I could not for the life of me tell what I was looking at. I had just sense enough left to lie down alongside Mike, when I was almost directly asleep. I do not think I ever slept more soundly in my life than I did on that occasion. So thoroughly wearied out was I, that I forgot all about the fire raging within a few hundred yards of us; or prowling wolves, or Indians, or rattlesnakes, which might have made their holes in the bank.When I awoke I found Mike sitting up, dawn having just broken. The fire had burned itself out, a few burning embers alone appearing on the opposite side, with here and there a blackened stem of some tree which had resisted the flames. One side of the river presented a scene of utter desolation, while the other was still green, and glittering with the dew of early morn.We knelt down and returned thanks to God for our preservation, and offered up a petition that he would still take care of us. We then ate a little more pemmican, and took a draught of water from the river; though, to do so, we had to drive back the burned twigs and black scum which came floating down the stream. We then caught our horses, which, in consequence of being hobbled, had not strayed far; and after leading them down to drink we mounted and rode on to the north-east. Reaching some elevated ground whence we could obtain an extensive view, we looked round to ascertain if any Indians were in sight. Not a human being could we discover; and we therefore, with increased hopes that we might escape, continued our journey.I asked Mike how many days he thought it would take us to reach home, that I might see if his computation agreed with mine. I calculated, recollecting the distance we had come with our captors, that it would occupy us a week at least, or perhaps ten days. He was of the same opinion.“But will our pemmican last us as long?” I asked.“Sure, that depinds upon how much we take of it each day,” he answered. “The berries are now ripe, and by good luck I have found a couple of fish-hooks in me pocket. Maybe, also, I can manage to manufacture some traps in which to catch birds or small animals; and though we have no arrows, if we are hard pressed we may make some; and we have got our spears. If we could only meet with a young bear, we should have flesh enough to last us for many a day. Sure, we’ll not be fearing harm till it comes upon us.”I agreed with Mike that we were not so badly off after all, and we rode forward in good spirits. There was still, of course, the danger of being overtaken by the Indians; but on that score Mike thought that we need not trouble ourselves. They would probably suppose that we had been destroyed by the fire; or they themselves might have met with the fate from which we had so narrowly escaped.The sun shone brightly from the unclouded sky; the atmosphere was clear, and we could see objects at a great distance. We looked out, as we rode along, for any of the natives who might be passing either on the war-path or engaged in hunting, as we resolved to endeavour to avoid them rather than risk an encounter. They might prove to be friends; but if enemies, we knew that we should have a poor chance of coming off victorious. Whenever the country was open, we galloped across it as fast as we could venture to push our horses without over-fatiguing them; but when we came to woody districts we kept as much as possible under shelter of the trees, so as to avoid being seen. We did not forget that, should enemies cross our trail, they would probably follow us. We therefore very frequently looked about us, to ascertain if we were pursued. We agreed that, in that case, we would run for it, trusting to the mettle of our horses for escape.It may seem strange, but I enjoyed the excitement, and should not have been alarmed had we caught sight of a dozen Redskins, provided they were on foot, and we had a fair start. Mike did not quite enter into my feelings, however.“Sure it would be betther, Masther Roger, if we could get along asily, and just stop and enjoy our dinner and supper without the feeling that at any moment our scalps might be taken off our heads,” he observed.“We have kept them on through much greater dangers than we are now likely to meet with,” I answered; “and while we have fleet horses under us, we may laugh at the Indians. They won’t know that we are without firearms, and they are terribly afraid of bullets.”For all this, I should have been glad had we possessed a good rifle and a brace of pistols apiece. Though our spears might serve us in a close encounter with a bear, or even with wolves, we were but ill able to protect ourselves against the arrows of a party of Redskins.Whenever we reached a height we surveyed the country both before and behind us, to make sure, in the first place, that no Indians were following; and, in the second, that none were encamped ahead, or, as I have before said, moving about. During the day we met with several small streams at which we could water our horses and slake our own thirst; and the first night we encamped under shelter of a wood, where there was plenty of grass for our steeds. We contented ourselves with forming a lean-to, but did not light a fire lest it should betray our whereabouts. Having eaten a little more pemmican, we formed our beds of spruce-fir tops, and lay down to rest.“Do you slape as sound as you like, Masther Roger; I’ll jist keep one eye open, in case any unwelcome visitor should take the throuble to poke his nose into our palace,” observed Mike. “When you think you have had rest enough, you can jist wake up and let me take a snooze till morning.”I thanked my honest friend for his kind intentions, and in less than half a minute my eyes were closely shut. When I awoke it was already dawn, but Mike, instead of keeping watch, was as sound asleep as I had been.“Hallo, Mike!” I exclaimed; “I thought that you intended to rest with one eye open all night.”“Sure, Masther Roger, haven’t I done so, barring the last few minutes,” he answered. “I did my best, thinking that every moment you would be getting up; and small blame to me if at last I dramed that you did get up, and told me that you would take a turn at watching.”“Never mind, since no harm has happened,” I said. “Now let us mount our horses and ride forward till we can get some cold water for breakfast.”Our animals, who now knew us, came at our call; and throwing ourselves on their backs, we galloped forward as we had done the day before. Not a human being did we meet with during the whole day, and in the evening we encamped by the side of a broad stream overshadowed by trees. From the appearance of several deep holes close under the bank, we hoped that fish might be found in them. As soon, therefore, as we had secured our horses, we set to work to manufacture lines for the two hooks which Mike had found in his pocket.Some people might have been puzzled how to get the lines, but we were not to be defeated in our object. We procured them by cutting off a small portion of the two hobbles, which consisted of long strips of deer-hide, and plucking some hairs out of our horses’ tails. The deer-hide we cut into thinner strips, which served for the upper part of the lines, while the lower were formed of the hair platted together. We thus in a short time had two good lines, to which we carefully secured the hooks. Having caught some grasshoppers, we determined to try them for bait; while our spears served us for fishing-rods. Hunger made us keen sportsmen, and never had I felt so anxious for success.My line had not been long in the water when I felt a bite. I almost trembled with eagerness as I gave a gentle jerk, sufficient to hook the unwary fish. It tugged pretty hard, and I was sure that I had it fast; but still I was afraid that it might break my line. Carefully I drew it along till I got it sufficiently near the surface to ascertain its size. To my satisfaction, I saw that it was not more than two or three pounds’ weight. After playing it for some time I drew it towards the bank, when Mike, who had hitherto not got a bite, left his rod and rushed into the water to secure our prize, exclaiming—“Faix, thin, we’ll have this darlint for our supper to-night; and, bedad! there is another at my line. Hurrah! good luck to us!”Throwing the fish to me, which proved to be a gold-eye, he sprang off, just in time to catch his rod, the end of which was nearly off the bank.“Och, murther,” he cried out, “but it’s a big one!” and he rushed along the shore, jumping over all impediments; shrieking out in his eagerness in a manner which would have made a sedate Indian fancy that he had gone out of his mind.I could not help laughing as I watched him.“Come along, Masther Roger, and lend me a hand, or the baste will be afther getting away.”Securing our first prize, I followed Mike as he rushed along down the bank, afraid of breaking his line, which was by this time stretched to the utmost. Now he gently pulled it in, now he allowed it to go off again, as he felt the strain increase. By thus dexterously managing the fish for some minutes, he at length brought it close to the shore, and I caught sight of an ugly-looking dark monster.“Sure, it’s a cat-fish, and mighty good ateing too, though it’s no beauty,” exclaimed Mike. “Get howld of him, Masther Roger; get howld of him, or he will be off.”Following Mike’s example, I dashed into the water and grasped the huge creature, although, covered as it was with slime, it was no easy matter to do so. Giving it a sudden jerk, I threw it on shore, rushing after it to prevent its floundering back again into its native element. It proved to be a prize worth having, being at least seven or eight pounds in weight. It was a wonder how, with such slight tackle, Mike had contrived to hold it.We agreed that, as we had now an ample supply of fish for one day at least, we would not run the risk of losing our hooks; and accordingly, carrying our two prizes, we made our way back to the part of the bank we had selected for our camp. It was under a widespreading tree, which extended over the water, and would materially serve to hide a fire, which we agreed to light on a piece of flat ground, almost level with the water. We soon collected a sufficient supply of sticks, and had our fire blazing and our fish cooking. The cat-fish, in spite of its ugly name and uglier looks, proved excellent, though somewhat rich—tasting very like an eel.Having eaten a hearty meal, and cooked the remainder of our fish for the next day, we put out our fire, and then arranged our dwelling for the night. It consisted simply of branches stuck in the ground, and extending about six feet from the trunk of the tree. We closed the entrance, so that no wolves or bears could pay us a visit without some warning; and kept our spears by our sides, to poke at their noses should they make their appearance.The night passed quietly away, and the next morning at daylight, having caught our horses, we swam them across the stream. The sun soon dried our clothes, and as we had no fear of starving for that day, we rode merrily onward.Next day we were as successful in fishing at a stream we reached a short time before sundown; but we were not so prudent, for after each of us had caught a couple of fish we continued our sport, when Mike’s hook was carried off. He looked as if he was going to burst into tears, while he surveyed the end of his line with an utterly comical expression of countenance.“No, bedad! it’s not there,” he exclaimed; “the baste of a fish has got it—ill luck to him! But we shall have the consolation of ateing his brothers; and maybe some day we will come back and hook him.”We had now but one hook left, and this it was necessary to secure with the greatest care. What a value we set upon that little crooked bit of steel! Our lives might depend on it, for though Mike had set several traps of various descriptions, no animals would consent to be caught by them.Two days more we travelled on, catching sight of what we believed to be Indian encampments in the distance, but, according to our resolution, carefully avoiding them. Our fish had come to an end, our last handful of pemmican was exhausted, and for a whole day we had no food except a few berries. Towards evening we reached a wood. As there was a stream not far from it, while Mike was engaged in forming our camp I endeavoured to hook a fish.My efforts were vain; for some time none would bite. At last I felt a tug, and I was sure that I had hooked a fish. Eagerly I drew it towards the bank. It seemed to come willingly enough at first, but there was another tug, and my line almost flew out of the water. I cast a blank look at the end. The hook was gone!Feeling very disconsolate, I returned to the camp. Mike endeavoured to comfort me for our loss, but he could not supply us with food. We therefore lay down to rest, keeping our spears as usual by our sides, and Mike offering to watch while I slept.Whether or not he had done so I could not tell, but suddenly I was awakened by feeling the branches at my side roughly shaken; and looking up, what was my dismay to see, by the moonlight streaming through the wood, a big brown bear poking his nose through the bushes, and not live feet from us! Giving Mike a nudge with my elbow, I grasped my spear, and rising on my knee, without a moment’s consideration as to what might be the result, I thrust the spear with all my might into the bear’s chest. With a fierce growl and open jaws it rushed at me,—as it did so, driving the spear still further into its body; whilst I, expecting the movement, sprang to the inner end of our arbour.Mike in a moment was on his knees,—he had not time to rise to his feet,—and seizing his weapon, drove it into the bear’s neck. Still the creature, though thus desperately wounded, broke through the branches we had put up; but the thick leaves prevented it from seeing us as clearly as it would otherwise have done. The life-blood was flowing from its wounds. Mike managed, as I had done, to get out of Bruin’s way; and before the creature could turn to pursue either of us, over it fell, on the very ground on which we had been sleeping. It struggled for a few seconds, gnashing its teeth, and I had to retreat through the branches to avoid it. Mike, who had managed to escape at the other end, now joined me, and getting hold of the handle of his spear, endeavoured to pull it out of the bear’s body. After a few tugs he succeeded in regaining possession of his weapon; and the first thing he did with it was to plunge it again into the animal’s breast.“I did it just to make sure,” he remarked. “These bastes have as many lives as a cat; and maybe he would have come to again, and taken to ateing us instead of our ateing him, as I hope we will be afther doing before long.”Whether or not the last thrust was necessary I do not know, but the bear ceased struggling; and Mike, springing on the body, exclaimed—“He’s dead enough now, anyhow! And we’ll take the liberty of cutting him up, and getting our teeth into his flesh; for, sure, he has spoilt our rest for the night.”The centre of the hut was by this time a pool of blood; we therefore dragged out the bear, and while Mike began scientifically to flay the carcass, I collected sticks for a fire. We soon had a good one blazing up, and some of the slices of the bear toasting before it. We were too hungry to wait until the morning.“Sure, the bear was sent to us to be aten,” observed Mike; “and suppose we get nothing else till we reach home, it will serve to keep us alive till then.”Having satisfied the cravings of hunger, we cooked some more slices of the best portions of the meat, to serve for our breakfast before starting; and the remainder we cut into thin strips to smoke over the fire, and afterwards to dry in the sun. As both we and our steeds were tired, we agreed not to start till a later hour than usual. There was a risk in remaining, but still it was better to run it, rather than knock up our horses or ourselves.Mike faithfully kept watch, and the sun was already high in the sky when I awoke. We hung up the strips of bear’s flesh, to give them a drying before we packed them to carry with us. We also did up a portion of the fresh meat, which would, we calculated, last us for some time. Then, having taken a late breakfast, we mounted our horses and continued our journey.It would take too much time, were I to describe the events of the next few days. After continuing on for the time we supposed it would occupy us in reaching home, we were still unable to recognise any of the features of the country. Mike, however, remarked that as forests and hills and rivers were all much alike, it was no wonder that we could not make out where we were. I proposed directing our course eastward, as we should thus certainly come to some of the settlements. Mike thought that we had not got sufficiently far to the north, and advised that we should continue on in that direction. I gave in to him.Our horses had hitherto held out well, but suddenly Mike’s began to stagger, and, almost before he could throw himself from its back, down the poor animal fell. What had been the cause of the horse’s death we had not knowledge sufficient to ascertain; only one thing was certain,—that it was dead, and that we must take it by turns to ride, and thus get on at a much slower pace. There was no use stopping to mourn our loss, so, having taken off the saddle and bridle, we did them up in a package, and placed them on the back of my steed. We did this lest the dead horse should be recognised as having belonged to the Indians, and some of their friends might discover it and pursue us.We had, shortly afterwards, a river to cross. True, we might have made a raft, but as we were both good swimmers we determined to trust to our own arms and legs for getting to the other side. After some persuasion we induced the horse to go in; and then, Mike taking the rein, we each of us put a hand on the saddle and swam over, I on one side and Mike on the other. Though swept down for some distance, we got safe on shore at last, but we had to trudge on in our wet clothes. Not only were we wet, but so was our imperfectly dried meat; the consequence was, that when we came to cook it in the evening it was scarcely eatable. Our clothes, too, were damp when we lay down at night.I awoke shivering the next morning, though the fire was still blazing near me; and when I tried to get up I was unable to stand. Mike was in a state of great distress. The remainder of our provisions had become worse; but even had the food been of the most delicate description, I could not have touched it.Mike, faithful fellow that he was, immediately set to work to build a hut, so that I might be sheltered from the heat of the sun as well as from the wind. As soon as it was completed he carried me into it, and closing the entrance, said he would set out in search of food. In a short time he returned with some delicious strawberries, which greatly refreshed me.For several days he tended me with the greatest care, and was fortunate in trapping several young birds, which, though not very fat, served to restore my strength. I asked him how he had managed to eat the dried bear’s meat, being very sure that he had not touched any of the birds he had caught.“Bedad, Masther Roger, it’s not the mate at all I’ve been ateing,” he answered. “I found no lack of big fellows with four legs hopping about in the marsh down there, and, for want of better food, I took the liberty of cooking them. They are not so bad, afther all; only the idea of the thing was not plisant at first.”Mike had been living on frogs, I found out, during all my illness; and as for a whole day he was unable to catch any birds, I begged that he would let me taste the frogs. I confess that I had no reason to complain of the food, for he gave me the hinder legs alone, which I should have supposed to have been those of small birds, had he not told me what they were.I was at last strong enough to move about, and I proposed that we should at once continue our journey. Mike agreed, therefore, that we should start the next morning.When daylight arrived, he left the hut to look for the horse while I prepared breakfast. He was a long time absent, and I began to grow anxious, wondering what could have become of him. I waited and waited till I could bear the suspense no longer, so, going to a height at a little distance from the wood in which we had formed our encampment, I gazed around on every side. Should any accident have befallen him, how fearful would be my fate! I was also deeply grieved at the thought of losing him; but I confess that selfish feelings for the time predominated. There was a river, I should have said, in the distance, and on looking in that direction I at length saw a figure moving towards me. It might be Mike, or it might be an Indian, and perhaps an enemy. Still, I did not think of concealing myself.Great was my joy when, as the person drew nearer, I recognised Mike. I rushed down to meet him; but I saw that there was something wrong, by the expression of his countenance.“What is the matter, Mike?” I asked. “I was terribly afraid that you were lost.”“Sure, a great deal is the matther,” he answered. “That baste of a horse has been afther drowning himself; and you will have to walk the rest of the journey on foot, except when I carry you on me shoulders—and that I will do, as long as I have the strength, with the greatest pleasure in the world.”I assured Mike that I was so glad to see him, that I cared little in comparison for the loss of the horse, for I felt perfectly able to walk any distance.“Well, that is one comfort; and seeing that we have nothing to carry except our spears, which will help us along, matthers might have been worse,” he answered.Both of us were determined to make the best of what had happened; so, having eaten our breakfast, and packed up the remainder of our provisions, we recommenced our march forward. Mike insisted on our encamping early in the day, so that he might search for food; and before dark he had procured a supply of the same description as that on which we had been living for several days.The next morning we went on as before, and I felt my strength considerably restored. Soon after noon, having reached the summit of a height, we saw before us a wide river, connected with a series of small lakes, their borders apparently deeply fringed with tall grass. This, Mike said, he believed must be rice, and it would afford us a change of diet if we could procure some; we accordingly made our way down towards the nearest. We thought, also, that we might catch some unwary ducks, if they were not accustomed to the sight of human beings.On getting close to the borders, we fancied we heard some sounds from a brood of ducklings. We therefore crept cautiously along the shore, when, to our infinite satisfaction, we caught sight of a couple of ducks, and not one, but two broods. We had got almost near enough to catch hold of the hindermost, when the cries of the mother-ducks warned their young ones to make the best of their way from us. Eager to seize our prey, we dashed into the water after them; when, to escape us, they endeavoured to make their way through the high grass.We had each of us caught a couple, when what was our astonishment, on pressing aside the grass, to see directly before us a canoe with three girls in it! Two of them were busily employed in beating out the rice into their canoe, while the one who sat in the bow, on hearing the noise we made, turned her head with an inquiring but somewhat alarmed glance towards us. Yes! I could not be mistaken; it was Lily! Just before her sat Dora, while Ashatea occupied the stern.“Lily, Lily!” I exclaimed. “Don’t you know me?”“Yes, yes! I do. O Dora, Dora! there is Roger and Mike Laffan. They were not drowned, or killed by the Indians! I always said so,” she cried.In a moment their paddles were out, and, guided by Ashatea, they were making their way towards us.“Come into the canoe!” they exclaimed in chorus. “There is room for you; and we will take you to our friends. They will be so glad to know that you are alive, though you both look sadly tired and thin.”“No wonder, Misthress Lily,” observed Mike; and he gave an account of my illness.They were all eager to hear how we had escaped; and as the canoe skimmed lightly over the smooth surface of the lake, urged by their paddles, I told them all that had happened to us, from the time we left the camp of our Indian friends. I then asked if Reuben and his companion had ever been heard of.“Yes; it was they who told us that you had either been drowned or made prisoners by the Indians,” said Lily. “They escaped by running through the rapids at a place where no canoe had ever before ventured. And Reuben has undertaken to come up here and escort us back to the settlement. We have been paying our long-promised visit to Ashatea; and I can assure you she received us in the most hospitable manner. You will like to see the beautiful dome-shaped wigwam her people built for us, with a divan all round, and the floor covered thickly with matting. We felt quite like Indian princesses, when she escorted us into it. It is divided by a curtain into two portions. The inner serves as our bedroom, and the outer as our drawing-room. As there is space for a fireplace in the centre, we agreed that we should not object to spend the winter in it; while at the present season it is delightfully cool and pleasant.”“Ah, but it is not equal to one of your comfortable houses,” observed Ashatea, who understood all that Lily said, and had, I found, improved greatly in her knowledge of English, having spent a considerable time at the settlement with Lily and Dora.We had some distance to go, I found, before we could reach the spot where Kepenau and his people were now encamped. The chief had, Lily told me, spent several months there; and had, besides, made a tour with our missionary friend, Martin Godfrey, for the purpose of being instructed in gospel truth, which he was most anxious to impart to his countrymen. The chief had, some time before, learned to read, and had devoted all his attention to the study of the Scriptures, so that he was well able to carry the gospel to others.My uncles and aunt had been greatly grieved at my supposed loss, and it had made them less contented with the settlement than they had before been; Uncle Mark especially missed the assistance of Mike, though honest Quambo had done his best to supply his place.Various schemes were afloat for occupying fresh territory, far to the westward. Some speculators had visited our settlement, and my uncles had listened to their descriptions of the advantages to be gained with far more interest than they might otherwise have done.“I had hoped that we should remain where we are,” said Lily. “I am attached to the place, and should be content to spend the remainder of my days here.”“You have not got over many of them as yet, Lily,” I said, looking up in her face.“They may be many, in comparison with those which are to come,” she answered gravely, and I thought mournfully.“I hope to see you grow into a dear old woman, like Aunt Hannah. I like to think of the future, and I want my future to be happy. However, it will be a long, long time before you grow old, Lily.”“I already feel old,” she said; “or I did, at least, when they told me that you were lost, Roger, though I did not believe it; but perhaps I shall now feel young again. I have been very sorry, too, about poor Ashatea,” she continued in a whisper; “she has her troubles, though she does not show what she feels by her countenance as much as we white people do. A young Indian, who is said to be superior to most of his people, has long wished to marry her; but as she is a Christian and he is still a heathen, though I believe she likes him very much, neither she nor her father will consent. This has produced a feud between them; and the conduct of Manilick—for that is his name, which, I believe, means a ‘pine-tree’—has caused them a great deal of anxiety. Kepenau fears that Manilick will try to carry off his daughter by force, and he is therefore obliged to keep scouts constantly watching the movements of the young chief. Indeed, when you appeared through the rice grass I fancied that you were Manilick, and that you might have come to carry us all off together; not that I believe he would venture to injure any white people, since he professes to be our friend.”I was much interested in what Lily told me, for I fancied that Reuben had lost his heart to the Indian girl. Still, superior as she was in many respects to those of her race, she would scarcely have made a fitting wife for a well-educated young man; though the rough traders and hunters of the Far West frequently marry Indian wives, who make them as happy as they wish to be, but are seldom able to bring up their children properly, the chief objection to such alliances.While Lily was talking to me, Mike was recounting to Dora and Ashatea, in his rich Irish brogue, our various adventures with the Indians. Thus the time was passed while the girls paddled across the lake and up the river till we reached Kepenau’s lodges.As we neared the shore, we observed a large concourse of people assembled near the wigwams. Many by their costume appeared to be strangers, while others were Kepenau’s own people. I saw that Ashatea was regarding them with great interest. In front, on a rock, sat Kepenau; and I judged by his attitude and the tone of his voice that he was addressing them on a matter of importance, while they listened with rapt attention. His right hand pointed to the sky, while his left was directed towards the earth; and by the words which reached me I knew that he was preaching the gospel—setting before the people the way of eternal life.We all stopped at some distance to listen, and so intent were he and his auditors that none perceived us. Ashatea, who stood next to Lily, was regarding the scene with even greater interest than we were. I saw her eye directed towards a young Indian, who by the ornaments on his dress I guessed was a chief. I pointed him out to Lily.“Yes,” she said, “that is Manilick. I am very glad to see him here, as I hope he is receiving the truths which Kepenau is endeavouring to impart.”Ashatea was, I had no doubt, hoping the same.Kepenau had nearly brought his address to a conclusion when we arrived. Now, rising from his seat, he took Manilick’s hand, and spoke to him affectionately, as it seemed to me. The young chief hung down his head, and answered only in monosyllables.Kepenau, after speaking in the same way to others, offered up a prayer, in which several of his own people joined. Not till then did he discover us. With a look of surprise he at once advanced to greet Mike and me, his countenance as well as his words exhibiting his satisfaction. He afterwards turned again to the young chief, and addressed him. He had, until now, I found, suspected that Manilick had instigated the attack on us, if he had not taken part in it, and he wished openly to exonerate him. Kepenau questioned me as to the dress and appearance of the Indians who had made us prisoners. From my description he was satisfied that they were really Sioux, and that Manilick had nothing to do with them.We were anxious to return as soon as possible to the settlement, to relieve the minds of our relatives but that evening, in consequence of the fatigue and hardships I had endured, I was again taken ill. Kepenau had a wigwam carefully built for me, in which Lily and Dora assisted Mike in watching over me. Good food, however, was all I needed; and as our Indian friends had abundance of fish and game, I was soon well again.Just as I had recovered, we one evening saw a large canoe approaching the camp. Who should step out of it but Uncle Mark, accompanied by Reuben, Quambo, and several men! They had brought a quantity of goods to supply their Indian friends.As may be supposed, Uncle Mark was delighted to find that I was alive; and Quambo, in the exuberance of his joy, embraced Mike.“But where de fiddle?” he exclaimed, after their salutations had ceased. “Just play one tune. It do my heart good, and we set all de camp jigging.”“Och, botheration! but the Ridskins have got it—bad luck to the spalpeens! and sorra a one of thim can play a tune, or I would not mind it so much,” answered Mike.“But you must try to get him back,” observed Quambo; “if dey not play on him, dey not want him.”“I’m mighty afraid it’s burned, though,” said Mike, with a sorrowful countenance.When Uncle Mark heard of Mike’s loss, he told Kepenau and Manilick. The latter had that day paid a visit to the chief. They were both of opinion that should the fiddle be in existence, it might, by proper diplomatic proceedings, be recovered; and, greatly to Mike’s joy, Manilick undertook to ascertain what had become of it, and, if possible, to restore it to its owner.

Mike and I were on the watch for an opportunity of mounting our horses and galloping off unperceived by the Indians; but, though they feasted for several successive days, that opportunity never came. Unfortunately, so far as our enterprise was concerned, they had no whisky in the camp, and were therefore able to watch our movements.

In a few days the hunters again set out, to obtain a further supply of buffalo robes; not that these were required for their own use, but they intended to exchange them with the traders for whisky and other articles—especially firearms and ammunition. The chief and two or three of the leading men had already procured weapons, although as yet they were by no means expert in their use.

“They’ll soon give us a chance, if they get howld of the whisky,” observed Mike; “so we must have patience till that happy time comes.”

As we had proved ourselves such expert hunters on the previous occasion, the Indians decided to take us with them, and allowed us to select two capital horses, as also some tough spears and a supply of arrows. We likewise stowed away, at Mike’s suggestion, as much dried buffalo meat as our pouches would hold. “There is no harm in having it,” he observed; “and it may just come in convanient if we get the chance of giving our rid-skinned frinds the slip.”

I was glad to find that the Indians were directing their course to the north-west of the camp, towards a plain on which, the scouts had brought word, buffalo had been seen feeding the previous evening, and it was supposed that they were not yet likely to have got far off. When we reached the ground, however, it was found that they had gone away further to the northward, so chase was immediately made after them. The herd must have gone on at a somewhat rapid rate, for we forded several streams, and entered on a part of the prairie across which, after riding a few miles, we could see nothing but the waving grass on every side.

The chief had of late been friendly, and kept Mike and me near him. He was evidently pleased with the good-humour we exhibited, and probably thought that we were contented with our lot.

At last we came in sight of the rear-guard of the herd, when the Indians at once gave chase.

We had been riding on for some time, the buffalo evidently moving at a greater speed than they do under ordinary circumstances, when the chief, who was on the right of the party, stopped, and looking round him, shouted to those who were within hearing. I could not understand what he said, and asked Mike if he could.

“Sure, it’s something not altogether plisant,” he answered. “Look there, Masther Roger. What does that mane?”

He pointed, as he spoke, to a long line of what looked like grey mist, forming wreaths, and rising above the horizon to the westward.

I saw several of the Indians standing up in their stirrups and gazing in the same direction. They knew perfectly well what it was, but they were trying to ascertain a point of vital importance to us all. The prairie was on fire! Of that there was no doubt; but, in order to give themselves the best chance of saving their lives, it was necessary to settle, before galloping forward, what course to take.

While the Indians were discussing this point, Mike, who had been looking about him, exclaimed to me,—“There is one way we want to go, and that is to the north-east. Never mind if we do get singed a little, for sure, as we came along, I remember that we passed several swamps. If we can get into one of them we shall be safe, as the fire won’t be afther crossing the wather.”

“But the Indians will probably take the same direction,” I observed.

“Sure, if they intinded doing that same, they would have been off at once,” he answered. “They have some raison for what they think of doing, and we have another for what we will do; so come along, Masther Roger. There’s only one thing I mourn for, and that is me fiddle; but no matther; maybe I will be afther getting that another time. Whallop-ahoo-aboo! Erin go bragh!” Then digging his heels into his horse’s flanks, he set off in the direction he proposed; and I, seeing that the Indians were too much occupied to notice us, galloped after him.

As I turned my head I saw them scampering along towards the north-west. The fire having approached with far greater rapidity than I could have supposed possible, I began to fear that they were right and we were wrong, when I saw the flames catching the dry grass and flaring up furiously, with dense masses of black smoke above them, and already scarcely a mile behind us; indeed, they looked very much nearer. Onward came the conflagration, faster than any horse could gallop. Happily we had the start of it, but we must, we knew, keep our steeds at the utmost stretch of their powers to maintain a safe distance.

As our course diverged more and more from that of the Indians, they soon discovered our object, and shouted to us to accompany them.

“Bawl away, me boys!” answered Mike. “It is not convanient just now to attind to you.”

When our intention became clearly evident, the chief despatched two of his people in pursuit of us; but we kept well ahead of our pursuers, and they, fearing that the fire would overtake them, turned and took the same direction as the main body. Soon after this we lost sight of our late companions.

“I would be well contint never to set eyes on you again, me jewels,” said Mike, shaking his spear as a sign of farewell.

Although my companion kept up his spirits, I could not avoid fearing that, after all, the fire would overtake us. Happily our horses were fleet and in good wind, as we had not exhausted them during the early part of the day; and all we could do at present was to gallop on. The wind, of which there had hitherto been very little, now got up, and blew almost in our faces, driving the fire in the direction the Indians had taken, and at the same time keeping it back from that in which we were going. Still on came the fire, the whole country in our rear apparently one mass of flame. Even now, did we stop, we should be overtaken. Happily for us, there were no buffalo in the direction from which the fire was coming, or we should have run the danger of being overwhelmed by them. Smaller animals, however, came rushing by us or close at our heels, but too much frightened even to notice us; and we were in too great a hurry to interfere with them.

I am almost afraid to say how many miles we covered in a couple of hours, but certainly not till that time had elapsed did we get to a safe distance from the fire; and even then, on looking back, we could see it raging along the whole verge of the horizon to the westward and southward. It was clear to me that Mike was mistaken about the swamps, and had not the wind, providentially for us, changed, we should probably have fallen victims.

We now slackened our speed a little, hoping to meet with some broad river which might prove a barrier to the flames, should another change of wind drive them towards us, as there was nothing, so far as we could see, to stop the fire from quickly overtaking us. Our horses, too, were already suffering from want of water, and so were we. We therefore eagerly looked out for a pool or stream at which we might slake our thirst. At length, greatly to our joy, as evening was approaching, we caught sight in the far distance of a silvery line of water glittering in the rays of the western sun. It was a river running from the north-west to the south-east, and as we approached we saw that it was of considerable width. Should it not prove fordable, we resolved to swim across.

With infinite satisfaction we reached the bank of the river, and descending quickly, allowed our horses to drink; while, stooping down by their sides, we lapped up the water eagerly with our hands. It seemed as if we could never drink enough. When we had somewhat slaked our thirst, we looked about for a place at which to cross. From the appearance of the current a little lower down, we hoped that we should there find the river fordable; we accordingly agreed to lead our horses to it.

On climbing up the bank we observed that the fire was still raging in the direction from whence we had come; and it was evidently very much nearer. We had wished to allow our animals to rest and recover their strength before attempting to cross; but on again looking back we saw that there was no time to be lost. We accordingly at once mounted, and urged our steeds into the water, keeping their heads up the stream.

As we advanced it grew deeper and deeper, and we expected every moment to have our horses taken off their legs; still it would not do to turn back. Our greatest chance of safety lay in pushing forward. The cool water restored strength to our beasts, and, sagaciously leaning over against the current, they soon got across the deep part. We had now no further difficulty, and in a few minutes landed safely on the opposite side. Fortunately there was plenty of fresh herbage, and we allowed the animals to crop it, while we sat down and discussed some of the pemmican with which, by Mike’s forethought, we had provided ourselves. Without it we should have starved; for we could find nothing eatable anywhere around. As night was approaching, and our horses were too much knocked up to go further, we resolved to remain on the bank of the river till the morning. We accordingly hobbled the animals, and then looked about for some place which might afford us shelter.

Our search was rewarded by the discovery of a hollow made by the stream in the bank during the spring floods. Here we hoped that we might rest secure from danger. Indians were not likely to be passing at that time of the evening, and no wolves would find their way, we believed, into our cave. Our horses were, of course, more exposed to risk than ourselves; but we were obliged to let them take their chance, for unless they were allowed to feed during the night they would be unable to carry us the next day.

After leaving our horses to pick up their supper, we were about to return to our cave, when, on looking to the eastward, we observed that the fire was making most rapid progress in our direction. We felt thankful indeed that we were on the right side of the river.

On came the conflagration, the heat sensibly increasing every minute, while dark wreaths of smoke filled the air, below which the burning grass and shrubs hissed and crackled. The darkness of night added to the fearful character of the scene. As far as the eye could reach there appeared a long unbroken line of fire: now, as it caught some thick bush or clump of trees, forked flames rose high in the air; in other places it came along maintaining the same height, but ever advancing, till it reached the bank of the river, when every shrub and tree was enveloped in a sheet of fire; and notwithstanding the width of the river, we expected every instant to see some of the sparks carried across, and the whole country on our side given over to destruction. We might save our own lives, but our horses would inevitably be lost.

We sat anxiously watching the conflagration as it raged along the entire bank: now the sparks, wafted by the wind, flew high into the air; now burning branches fell hissing into the water.

“It’s all very fine,” observed Mike, after watching it for some time; “but I would rather be afther going quietly to slape.”

I felt quite as tired as did Mike, but I sat up till my eyes began to close and my head to droop, and I could not for the life of me tell what I was looking at. I had just sense enough left to lie down alongside Mike, when I was almost directly asleep. I do not think I ever slept more soundly in my life than I did on that occasion. So thoroughly wearied out was I, that I forgot all about the fire raging within a few hundred yards of us; or prowling wolves, or Indians, or rattlesnakes, which might have made their holes in the bank.

When I awoke I found Mike sitting up, dawn having just broken. The fire had burned itself out, a few burning embers alone appearing on the opposite side, with here and there a blackened stem of some tree which had resisted the flames. One side of the river presented a scene of utter desolation, while the other was still green, and glittering with the dew of early morn.

We knelt down and returned thanks to God for our preservation, and offered up a petition that he would still take care of us. We then ate a little more pemmican, and took a draught of water from the river; though, to do so, we had to drive back the burned twigs and black scum which came floating down the stream. We then caught our horses, which, in consequence of being hobbled, had not strayed far; and after leading them down to drink we mounted and rode on to the north-east. Reaching some elevated ground whence we could obtain an extensive view, we looked round to ascertain if any Indians were in sight. Not a human being could we discover; and we therefore, with increased hopes that we might escape, continued our journey.

I asked Mike how many days he thought it would take us to reach home, that I might see if his computation agreed with mine. I calculated, recollecting the distance we had come with our captors, that it would occupy us a week at least, or perhaps ten days. He was of the same opinion.

“But will our pemmican last us as long?” I asked.

“Sure, that depinds upon how much we take of it each day,” he answered. “The berries are now ripe, and by good luck I have found a couple of fish-hooks in me pocket. Maybe, also, I can manage to manufacture some traps in which to catch birds or small animals; and though we have no arrows, if we are hard pressed we may make some; and we have got our spears. If we could only meet with a young bear, we should have flesh enough to last us for many a day. Sure, we’ll not be fearing harm till it comes upon us.”

I agreed with Mike that we were not so badly off after all, and we rode forward in good spirits. There was still, of course, the danger of being overtaken by the Indians; but on that score Mike thought that we need not trouble ourselves. They would probably suppose that we had been destroyed by the fire; or they themselves might have met with the fate from which we had so narrowly escaped.

The sun shone brightly from the unclouded sky; the atmosphere was clear, and we could see objects at a great distance. We looked out, as we rode along, for any of the natives who might be passing either on the war-path or engaged in hunting, as we resolved to endeavour to avoid them rather than risk an encounter. They might prove to be friends; but if enemies, we knew that we should have a poor chance of coming off victorious. Whenever the country was open, we galloped across it as fast as we could venture to push our horses without over-fatiguing them; but when we came to woody districts we kept as much as possible under shelter of the trees, so as to avoid being seen. We did not forget that, should enemies cross our trail, they would probably follow us. We therefore very frequently looked about us, to ascertain if we were pursued. We agreed that, in that case, we would run for it, trusting to the mettle of our horses for escape.

It may seem strange, but I enjoyed the excitement, and should not have been alarmed had we caught sight of a dozen Redskins, provided they were on foot, and we had a fair start. Mike did not quite enter into my feelings, however.

“Sure it would be betther, Masther Roger, if we could get along asily, and just stop and enjoy our dinner and supper without the feeling that at any moment our scalps might be taken off our heads,” he observed.

“We have kept them on through much greater dangers than we are now likely to meet with,” I answered; “and while we have fleet horses under us, we may laugh at the Indians. They won’t know that we are without firearms, and they are terribly afraid of bullets.”

For all this, I should have been glad had we possessed a good rifle and a brace of pistols apiece. Though our spears might serve us in a close encounter with a bear, or even with wolves, we were but ill able to protect ourselves against the arrows of a party of Redskins.

Whenever we reached a height we surveyed the country both before and behind us, to make sure, in the first place, that no Indians were following; and, in the second, that none were encamped ahead, or, as I have before said, moving about. During the day we met with several small streams at which we could water our horses and slake our own thirst; and the first night we encamped under shelter of a wood, where there was plenty of grass for our steeds. We contented ourselves with forming a lean-to, but did not light a fire lest it should betray our whereabouts. Having eaten a little more pemmican, we formed our beds of spruce-fir tops, and lay down to rest.

“Do you slape as sound as you like, Masther Roger; I’ll jist keep one eye open, in case any unwelcome visitor should take the throuble to poke his nose into our palace,” observed Mike. “When you think you have had rest enough, you can jist wake up and let me take a snooze till morning.”

I thanked my honest friend for his kind intentions, and in less than half a minute my eyes were closely shut. When I awoke it was already dawn, but Mike, instead of keeping watch, was as sound asleep as I had been.

“Hallo, Mike!” I exclaimed; “I thought that you intended to rest with one eye open all night.”

“Sure, Masther Roger, haven’t I done so, barring the last few minutes,” he answered. “I did my best, thinking that every moment you would be getting up; and small blame to me if at last I dramed that you did get up, and told me that you would take a turn at watching.”

“Never mind, since no harm has happened,” I said. “Now let us mount our horses and ride forward till we can get some cold water for breakfast.”

Our animals, who now knew us, came at our call; and throwing ourselves on their backs, we galloped forward as we had done the day before. Not a human being did we meet with during the whole day, and in the evening we encamped by the side of a broad stream overshadowed by trees. From the appearance of several deep holes close under the bank, we hoped that fish might be found in them. As soon, therefore, as we had secured our horses, we set to work to manufacture lines for the two hooks which Mike had found in his pocket.

Some people might have been puzzled how to get the lines, but we were not to be defeated in our object. We procured them by cutting off a small portion of the two hobbles, which consisted of long strips of deer-hide, and plucking some hairs out of our horses’ tails. The deer-hide we cut into thinner strips, which served for the upper part of the lines, while the lower were formed of the hair platted together. We thus in a short time had two good lines, to which we carefully secured the hooks. Having caught some grasshoppers, we determined to try them for bait; while our spears served us for fishing-rods. Hunger made us keen sportsmen, and never had I felt so anxious for success.

My line had not been long in the water when I felt a bite. I almost trembled with eagerness as I gave a gentle jerk, sufficient to hook the unwary fish. It tugged pretty hard, and I was sure that I had it fast; but still I was afraid that it might break my line. Carefully I drew it along till I got it sufficiently near the surface to ascertain its size. To my satisfaction, I saw that it was not more than two or three pounds’ weight. After playing it for some time I drew it towards the bank, when Mike, who had hitherto not got a bite, left his rod and rushed into the water to secure our prize, exclaiming—

“Faix, thin, we’ll have this darlint for our supper to-night; and, bedad! there is another at my line. Hurrah! good luck to us!”

Throwing the fish to me, which proved to be a gold-eye, he sprang off, just in time to catch his rod, the end of which was nearly off the bank.

“Och, murther,” he cried out, “but it’s a big one!” and he rushed along the shore, jumping over all impediments; shrieking out in his eagerness in a manner which would have made a sedate Indian fancy that he had gone out of his mind.

I could not help laughing as I watched him.

“Come along, Masther Roger, and lend me a hand, or the baste will be afther getting away.”

Securing our first prize, I followed Mike as he rushed along down the bank, afraid of breaking his line, which was by this time stretched to the utmost. Now he gently pulled it in, now he allowed it to go off again, as he felt the strain increase. By thus dexterously managing the fish for some minutes, he at length brought it close to the shore, and I caught sight of an ugly-looking dark monster.

“Sure, it’s a cat-fish, and mighty good ateing too, though it’s no beauty,” exclaimed Mike. “Get howld of him, Masther Roger; get howld of him, or he will be off.”

Following Mike’s example, I dashed into the water and grasped the huge creature, although, covered as it was with slime, it was no easy matter to do so. Giving it a sudden jerk, I threw it on shore, rushing after it to prevent its floundering back again into its native element. It proved to be a prize worth having, being at least seven or eight pounds in weight. It was a wonder how, with such slight tackle, Mike had contrived to hold it.

We agreed that, as we had now an ample supply of fish for one day at least, we would not run the risk of losing our hooks; and accordingly, carrying our two prizes, we made our way back to the part of the bank we had selected for our camp. It was under a widespreading tree, which extended over the water, and would materially serve to hide a fire, which we agreed to light on a piece of flat ground, almost level with the water. We soon collected a sufficient supply of sticks, and had our fire blazing and our fish cooking. The cat-fish, in spite of its ugly name and uglier looks, proved excellent, though somewhat rich—tasting very like an eel.

Having eaten a hearty meal, and cooked the remainder of our fish for the next day, we put out our fire, and then arranged our dwelling for the night. It consisted simply of branches stuck in the ground, and extending about six feet from the trunk of the tree. We closed the entrance, so that no wolves or bears could pay us a visit without some warning; and kept our spears by our sides, to poke at their noses should they make their appearance.

The night passed quietly away, and the next morning at daylight, having caught our horses, we swam them across the stream. The sun soon dried our clothes, and as we had no fear of starving for that day, we rode merrily onward.

Next day we were as successful in fishing at a stream we reached a short time before sundown; but we were not so prudent, for after each of us had caught a couple of fish we continued our sport, when Mike’s hook was carried off. He looked as if he was going to burst into tears, while he surveyed the end of his line with an utterly comical expression of countenance.

“No, bedad! it’s not there,” he exclaimed; “the baste of a fish has got it—ill luck to him! But we shall have the consolation of ateing his brothers; and maybe some day we will come back and hook him.”

We had now but one hook left, and this it was necessary to secure with the greatest care. What a value we set upon that little crooked bit of steel! Our lives might depend on it, for though Mike had set several traps of various descriptions, no animals would consent to be caught by them.

Two days more we travelled on, catching sight of what we believed to be Indian encampments in the distance, but, according to our resolution, carefully avoiding them. Our fish had come to an end, our last handful of pemmican was exhausted, and for a whole day we had no food except a few berries. Towards evening we reached a wood. As there was a stream not far from it, while Mike was engaged in forming our camp I endeavoured to hook a fish.

My efforts were vain; for some time none would bite. At last I felt a tug, and I was sure that I had hooked a fish. Eagerly I drew it towards the bank. It seemed to come willingly enough at first, but there was another tug, and my line almost flew out of the water. I cast a blank look at the end. The hook was gone!

Feeling very disconsolate, I returned to the camp. Mike endeavoured to comfort me for our loss, but he could not supply us with food. We therefore lay down to rest, keeping our spears as usual by our sides, and Mike offering to watch while I slept.

Whether or not he had done so I could not tell, but suddenly I was awakened by feeling the branches at my side roughly shaken; and looking up, what was my dismay to see, by the moonlight streaming through the wood, a big brown bear poking his nose through the bushes, and not live feet from us! Giving Mike a nudge with my elbow, I grasped my spear, and rising on my knee, without a moment’s consideration as to what might be the result, I thrust the spear with all my might into the bear’s chest. With a fierce growl and open jaws it rushed at me,—as it did so, driving the spear still further into its body; whilst I, expecting the movement, sprang to the inner end of our arbour.

Mike in a moment was on his knees,—he had not time to rise to his feet,—and seizing his weapon, drove it into the bear’s neck. Still the creature, though thus desperately wounded, broke through the branches we had put up; but the thick leaves prevented it from seeing us as clearly as it would otherwise have done. The life-blood was flowing from its wounds. Mike managed, as I had done, to get out of Bruin’s way; and before the creature could turn to pursue either of us, over it fell, on the very ground on which we had been sleeping. It struggled for a few seconds, gnashing its teeth, and I had to retreat through the branches to avoid it. Mike, who had managed to escape at the other end, now joined me, and getting hold of the handle of his spear, endeavoured to pull it out of the bear’s body. After a few tugs he succeeded in regaining possession of his weapon; and the first thing he did with it was to plunge it again into the animal’s breast.

“I did it just to make sure,” he remarked. “These bastes have as many lives as a cat; and maybe he would have come to again, and taken to ateing us instead of our ateing him, as I hope we will be afther doing before long.”

Whether or not the last thrust was necessary I do not know, but the bear ceased struggling; and Mike, springing on the body, exclaimed—

“He’s dead enough now, anyhow! And we’ll take the liberty of cutting him up, and getting our teeth into his flesh; for, sure, he has spoilt our rest for the night.”

The centre of the hut was by this time a pool of blood; we therefore dragged out the bear, and while Mike began scientifically to flay the carcass, I collected sticks for a fire. We soon had a good one blazing up, and some of the slices of the bear toasting before it. We were too hungry to wait until the morning.

“Sure, the bear was sent to us to be aten,” observed Mike; “and suppose we get nothing else till we reach home, it will serve to keep us alive till then.”

Having satisfied the cravings of hunger, we cooked some more slices of the best portions of the meat, to serve for our breakfast before starting; and the remainder we cut into thin strips to smoke over the fire, and afterwards to dry in the sun. As both we and our steeds were tired, we agreed not to start till a later hour than usual. There was a risk in remaining, but still it was better to run it, rather than knock up our horses or ourselves.

Mike faithfully kept watch, and the sun was already high in the sky when I awoke. We hung up the strips of bear’s flesh, to give them a drying before we packed them to carry with us. We also did up a portion of the fresh meat, which would, we calculated, last us for some time. Then, having taken a late breakfast, we mounted our horses and continued our journey.

It would take too much time, were I to describe the events of the next few days. After continuing on for the time we supposed it would occupy us in reaching home, we were still unable to recognise any of the features of the country. Mike, however, remarked that as forests and hills and rivers were all much alike, it was no wonder that we could not make out where we were. I proposed directing our course eastward, as we should thus certainly come to some of the settlements. Mike thought that we had not got sufficiently far to the north, and advised that we should continue on in that direction. I gave in to him.

Our horses had hitherto held out well, but suddenly Mike’s began to stagger, and, almost before he could throw himself from its back, down the poor animal fell. What had been the cause of the horse’s death we had not knowledge sufficient to ascertain; only one thing was certain,—that it was dead, and that we must take it by turns to ride, and thus get on at a much slower pace. There was no use stopping to mourn our loss, so, having taken off the saddle and bridle, we did them up in a package, and placed them on the back of my steed. We did this lest the dead horse should be recognised as having belonged to the Indians, and some of their friends might discover it and pursue us.

We had, shortly afterwards, a river to cross. True, we might have made a raft, but as we were both good swimmers we determined to trust to our own arms and legs for getting to the other side. After some persuasion we induced the horse to go in; and then, Mike taking the rein, we each of us put a hand on the saddle and swam over, I on one side and Mike on the other. Though swept down for some distance, we got safe on shore at last, but we had to trudge on in our wet clothes. Not only were we wet, but so was our imperfectly dried meat; the consequence was, that when we came to cook it in the evening it was scarcely eatable. Our clothes, too, were damp when we lay down at night.

I awoke shivering the next morning, though the fire was still blazing near me; and when I tried to get up I was unable to stand. Mike was in a state of great distress. The remainder of our provisions had become worse; but even had the food been of the most delicate description, I could not have touched it.

Mike, faithful fellow that he was, immediately set to work to build a hut, so that I might be sheltered from the heat of the sun as well as from the wind. As soon as it was completed he carried me into it, and closing the entrance, said he would set out in search of food. In a short time he returned with some delicious strawberries, which greatly refreshed me.

For several days he tended me with the greatest care, and was fortunate in trapping several young birds, which, though not very fat, served to restore my strength. I asked him how he had managed to eat the dried bear’s meat, being very sure that he had not touched any of the birds he had caught.

“Bedad, Masther Roger, it’s not the mate at all I’ve been ateing,” he answered. “I found no lack of big fellows with four legs hopping about in the marsh down there, and, for want of better food, I took the liberty of cooking them. They are not so bad, afther all; only the idea of the thing was not plisant at first.”

Mike had been living on frogs, I found out, during all my illness; and as for a whole day he was unable to catch any birds, I begged that he would let me taste the frogs. I confess that I had no reason to complain of the food, for he gave me the hinder legs alone, which I should have supposed to have been those of small birds, had he not told me what they were.

I was at last strong enough to move about, and I proposed that we should at once continue our journey. Mike agreed, therefore, that we should start the next morning.

When daylight arrived, he left the hut to look for the horse while I prepared breakfast. He was a long time absent, and I began to grow anxious, wondering what could have become of him. I waited and waited till I could bear the suspense no longer, so, going to a height at a little distance from the wood in which we had formed our encampment, I gazed around on every side. Should any accident have befallen him, how fearful would be my fate! I was also deeply grieved at the thought of losing him; but I confess that selfish feelings for the time predominated. There was a river, I should have said, in the distance, and on looking in that direction I at length saw a figure moving towards me. It might be Mike, or it might be an Indian, and perhaps an enemy. Still, I did not think of concealing myself.

Great was my joy when, as the person drew nearer, I recognised Mike. I rushed down to meet him; but I saw that there was something wrong, by the expression of his countenance.

“What is the matter, Mike?” I asked. “I was terribly afraid that you were lost.”

“Sure, a great deal is the matther,” he answered. “That baste of a horse has been afther drowning himself; and you will have to walk the rest of the journey on foot, except when I carry you on me shoulders—and that I will do, as long as I have the strength, with the greatest pleasure in the world.”

I assured Mike that I was so glad to see him, that I cared little in comparison for the loss of the horse, for I felt perfectly able to walk any distance.

“Well, that is one comfort; and seeing that we have nothing to carry except our spears, which will help us along, matthers might have been worse,” he answered.

Both of us were determined to make the best of what had happened; so, having eaten our breakfast, and packed up the remainder of our provisions, we recommenced our march forward. Mike insisted on our encamping early in the day, so that he might search for food; and before dark he had procured a supply of the same description as that on which we had been living for several days.

The next morning we went on as before, and I felt my strength considerably restored. Soon after noon, having reached the summit of a height, we saw before us a wide river, connected with a series of small lakes, their borders apparently deeply fringed with tall grass. This, Mike said, he believed must be rice, and it would afford us a change of diet if we could procure some; we accordingly made our way down towards the nearest. We thought, also, that we might catch some unwary ducks, if they were not accustomed to the sight of human beings.

On getting close to the borders, we fancied we heard some sounds from a brood of ducklings. We therefore crept cautiously along the shore, when, to our infinite satisfaction, we caught sight of a couple of ducks, and not one, but two broods. We had got almost near enough to catch hold of the hindermost, when the cries of the mother-ducks warned their young ones to make the best of their way from us. Eager to seize our prey, we dashed into the water after them; when, to escape us, they endeavoured to make their way through the high grass.

We had each of us caught a couple, when what was our astonishment, on pressing aside the grass, to see directly before us a canoe with three girls in it! Two of them were busily employed in beating out the rice into their canoe, while the one who sat in the bow, on hearing the noise we made, turned her head with an inquiring but somewhat alarmed glance towards us. Yes! I could not be mistaken; it was Lily! Just before her sat Dora, while Ashatea occupied the stern.

“Lily, Lily!” I exclaimed. “Don’t you know me?”

“Yes, yes! I do. O Dora, Dora! there is Roger and Mike Laffan. They were not drowned, or killed by the Indians! I always said so,” she cried.

In a moment their paddles were out, and, guided by Ashatea, they were making their way towards us.

“Come into the canoe!” they exclaimed in chorus. “There is room for you; and we will take you to our friends. They will be so glad to know that you are alive, though you both look sadly tired and thin.”

“No wonder, Misthress Lily,” observed Mike; and he gave an account of my illness.

They were all eager to hear how we had escaped; and as the canoe skimmed lightly over the smooth surface of the lake, urged by their paddles, I told them all that had happened to us, from the time we left the camp of our Indian friends. I then asked if Reuben and his companion had ever been heard of.

“Yes; it was they who told us that you had either been drowned or made prisoners by the Indians,” said Lily. “They escaped by running through the rapids at a place where no canoe had ever before ventured. And Reuben has undertaken to come up here and escort us back to the settlement. We have been paying our long-promised visit to Ashatea; and I can assure you she received us in the most hospitable manner. You will like to see the beautiful dome-shaped wigwam her people built for us, with a divan all round, and the floor covered thickly with matting. We felt quite like Indian princesses, when she escorted us into it. It is divided by a curtain into two portions. The inner serves as our bedroom, and the outer as our drawing-room. As there is space for a fireplace in the centre, we agreed that we should not object to spend the winter in it; while at the present season it is delightfully cool and pleasant.”

“Ah, but it is not equal to one of your comfortable houses,” observed Ashatea, who understood all that Lily said, and had, I found, improved greatly in her knowledge of English, having spent a considerable time at the settlement with Lily and Dora.

We had some distance to go, I found, before we could reach the spot where Kepenau and his people were now encamped. The chief had, Lily told me, spent several months there; and had, besides, made a tour with our missionary friend, Martin Godfrey, for the purpose of being instructed in gospel truth, which he was most anxious to impart to his countrymen. The chief had, some time before, learned to read, and had devoted all his attention to the study of the Scriptures, so that he was well able to carry the gospel to others.

My uncles and aunt had been greatly grieved at my supposed loss, and it had made them less contented with the settlement than they had before been; Uncle Mark especially missed the assistance of Mike, though honest Quambo had done his best to supply his place.

Various schemes were afloat for occupying fresh territory, far to the westward. Some speculators had visited our settlement, and my uncles had listened to their descriptions of the advantages to be gained with far more interest than they might otherwise have done.

“I had hoped that we should remain where we are,” said Lily. “I am attached to the place, and should be content to spend the remainder of my days here.”

“You have not got over many of them as yet, Lily,” I said, looking up in her face.

“They may be many, in comparison with those which are to come,” she answered gravely, and I thought mournfully.

“I hope to see you grow into a dear old woman, like Aunt Hannah. I like to think of the future, and I want my future to be happy. However, it will be a long, long time before you grow old, Lily.”

“I already feel old,” she said; “or I did, at least, when they told me that you were lost, Roger, though I did not believe it; but perhaps I shall now feel young again. I have been very sorry, too, about poor Ashatea,” she continued in a whisper; “she has her troubles, though she does not show what she feels by her countenance as much as we white people do. A young Indian, who is said to be superior to most of his people, has long wished to marry her; but as she is a Christian and he is still a heathen, though I believe she likes him very much, neither she nor her father will consent. This has produced a feud between them; and the conduct of Manilick—for that is his name, which, I believe, means a ‘pine-tree’—has caused them a great deal of anxiety. Kepenau fears that Manilick will try to carry off his daughter by force, and he is therefore obliged to keep scouts constantly watching the movements of the young chief. Indeed, when you appeared through the rice grass I fancied that you were Manilick, and that you might have come to carry us all off together; not that I believe he would venture to injure any white people, since he professes to be our friend.”

I was much interested in what Lily told me, for I fancied that Reuben had lost his heart to the Indian girl. Still, superior as she was in many respects to those of her race, she would scarcely have made a fitting wife for a well-educated young man; though the rough traders and hunters of the Far West frequently marry Indian wives, who make them as happy as they wish to be, but are seldom able to bring up their children properly, the chief objection to such alliances.

While Lily was talking to me, Mike was recounting to Dora and Ashatea, in his rich Irish brogue, our various adventures with the Indians. Thus the time was passed while the girls paddled across the lake and up the river till we reached Kepenau’s lodges.

As we neared the shore, we observed a large concourse of people assembled near the wigwams. Many by their costume appeared to be strangers, while others were Kepenau’s own people. I saw that Ashatea was regarding them with great interest. In front, on a rock, sat Kepenau; and I judged by his attitude and the tone of his voice that he was addressing them on a matter of importance, while they listened with rapt attention. His right hand pointed to the sky, while his left was directed towards the earth; and by the words which reached me I knew that he was preaching the gospel—setting before the people the way of eternal life.

We all stopped at some distance to listen, and so intent were he and his auditors that none perceived us. Ashatea, who stood next to Lily, was regarding the scene with even greater interest than we were. I saw her eye directed towards a young Indian, who by the ornaments on his dress I guessed was a chief. I pointed him out to Lily.

“Yes,” she said, “that is Manilick. I am very glad to see him here, as I hope he is receiving the truths which Kepenau is endeavouring to impart.”

Ashatea was, I had no doubt, hoping the same.

Kepenau had nearly brought his address to a conclusion when we arrived. Now, rising from his seat, he took Manilick’s hand, and spoke to him affectionately, as it seemed to me. The young chief hung down his head, and answered only in monosyllables.

Kepenau, after speaking in the same way to others, offered up a prayer, in which several of his own people joined. Not till then did he discover us. With a look of surprise he at once advanced to greet Mike and me, his countenance as well as his words exhibiting his satisfaction. He afterwards turned again to the young chief, and addressed him. He had, until now, I found, suspected that Manilick had instigated the attack on us, if he had not taken part in it, and he wished openly to exonerate him. Kepenau questioned me as to the dress and appearance of the Indians who had made us prisoners. From my description he was satisfied that they were really Sioux, and that Manilick had nothing to do with them.

We were anxious to return as soon as possible to the settlement, to relieve the minds of our relatives but that evening, in consequence of the fatigue and hardships I had endured, I was again taken ill. Kepenau had a wigwam carefully built for me, in which Lily and Dora assisted Mike in watching over me. Good food, however, was all I needed; and as our Indian friends had abundance of fish and game, I was soon well again.

Just as I had recovered, we one evening saw a large canoe approaching the camp. Who should step out of it but Uncle Mark, accompanied by Reuben, Quambo, and several men! They had brought a quantity of goods to supply their Indian friends.

As may be supposed, Uncle Mark was delighted to find that I was alive; and Quambo, in the exuberance of his joy, embraced Mike.

“But where de fiddle?” he exclaimed, after their salutations had ceased. “Just play one tune. It do my heart good, and we set all de camp jigging.”

“Och, botheration! but the Ridskins have got it—bad luck to the spalpeens! and sorra a one of thim can play a tune, or I would not mind it so much,” answered Mike.

“But you must try to get him back,” observed Quambo; “if dey not play on him, dey not want him.”

“I’m mighty afraid it’s burned, though,” said Mike, with a sorrowful countenance.

When Uncle Mark heard of Mike’s loss, he told Kepenau and Manilick. The latter had that day paid a visit to the chief. They were both of opinion that should the fiddle be in existence, it might, by proper diplomatic proceedings, be recovered; and, greatly to Mike’s joy, Manilick undertook to ascertain what had become of it, and, if possible, to restore it to its owner.

Chapter Eight.Uncle Mark’s canoe—Our start for home—The rattlesnakes—Mike longs for his fiddle—Our night encampment—Jacques Lerocque’s fishing joke—Mike’s terror at the supposed Indian ambuscade—The phantom bear—Our arrival at home—Kakaik and the fiddle—Mike’s delight—Kepenau’s second visit—Reuben’s chagrin—Mr Simon Spark’s advent—His glowing description of the far north-west—The forest on fire—Our hut destroyed—Our escape.The canoe in which Uncle Mark had come up had been built by some Indians on the lake, who intended to dispose of it to the fur-traders; but, in consequence of some dispute, they had refused to let them have it, and had thereafter sold it to my uncles at a reduced price.It was of far superior construction to those we had hitherto seen used, though of the same materials.Formed of large sheets of birch-bark, kept in shape by delicate ribs of lance-wood or willow, it was nearly forty feet in length, and sharp at both ends; and the seams where the bark was sewn together were covered by a thick resinous gum, which became hard in the water. Like the small canoes, it required careful handling; for, having no keel, it was easily turned over. It was impelled by six or eight paddles,—three or four on one side, and the same number on the other; one man steering with a paddle, as well as paddling.Uncle Mark had come down one river, then across the lake, and up another river, instead of the shorter route along the course of several narrower streams with rapids, which necessitated the same number of portages. By this means he was able to bring a cargo of cottons, cutlery, and other heavy articles. He purposed returning by the same route, though it might have been possible to carry the canoe across the portages, as the bales of peltries occupied less space than the cargo he had brought. There was sufficient room, too, for the four additional people the canoe had now to carry.The day before we were to start, Ashatea appeared to be very unhappy. It was, I concluded, at the thought of parting from Lily; but Lily afterwards told me that it was more on account of Manilick, who still refused to embrace Christianity.“We must pray for him,” said Lily. “Kepenau has taken every opportunity of speaking to him, and putting the truth plainly before him; but though he would very gladly make Ashatea his wife, he still remains firm in his heathen belief.”We could no longer delay our return home, as the autumn was advancing, and before long we might expect storms and frosts, which would make our proposed voyage in the canoe both trying and dangerous.The whole tribe came down to the bank of the river at early dawn to see us off, as Uncle Mark wished to cross the lake before sunset. We should have to encamp for the night, and continue our voyage up the river next morning.We made good progress down the stream, having the current with us, and entered the lake just as the sun rose above what appeared like a sea horizon, though we knew that the shore was not far off on the opposite side. The calm lake shone like a burnished mirror. The shore we were leaving was tinted with various colours, the higher ground here crowned by groups of spruce-firs, and in other places rocky and barren, but still picturesque in the extreme.I took a paddle and sat by Lily. Reuben and Mike also made themselves of use; while Uncle Mark sat with Dora at the bottom of the canoe. It was the first voyage I had ever taken on the lake, and Lily and I agreed that it would be very pleasant to have a canoe or small vessel of our own, and to cruise round the shores, exploring every inlet and creek.As the sun rose the heat became intense; not a breath of air stirred the surface of the lake, and Lily, who had taken off her hat, was very glad to put it on again. After paddling for some distance we landed to breakfast, or rather to dine; for we did not intend to stop again till we went on shore to encamp for the night.Wild rocks fringed the shore, and we had to exercise great caution in approaching it, for the slightest touch would have knocked a hole in the bow of our canoe, and we should very soon have had the water rushing in. We had, therefore, to look out for some opening into which we could slowly paddle till we found a landing-place. After making two or three ineffectual attempts, we succeeded in finding a bank with an almost perpendicular side, on to which we could at once step from the canoe.Immediately after landing, all hands set to work to collect wood for a fire. An abundance lay on the ground, driven there by the wind. Lily and Dora undertook to cook the breakfast, the materials for which consisted of eggs, fish, maize cakes, and dandelion coffee—the roots having been prepared by Aunt Hannah. We soon had a fire blazing up, when, as Uncle Mark declared, Lily and Dora performed their duties in a most efficient manner.Just as we had finished, one of the men, who were seated at some little distance from us, started up, exclaiming, “Take care! take care! there are rattlesnakes near us.”Scarcely had he spoken when I saw one of the venomous creatures, the sound of whose tail the man had heard, rearing its head not five feet off from Lily. In another moment it might spring on her. Fortunately a long thin stick lay close to me, which I seized, and with all my might struck the snake a blow on the head which brought it to the ground, while I cried out to Lily to run to a distance. Almost in an instant the snake recovered itself, and sounding its rattle as it moved forward, made an attempt to spring at me. Again I struck it; and Mike coming to my assistance, it was quickly despatched.Where one rattlesnake is found, there are generally many more. Scarcely two minutes had passed ere another made its appearance, crawling out of a hole under a tree. While Mike and Reuben went to attack it, Uncle Mark advised that we should all get on board without delay. Our breakfast and cooking things were quickly packed up; and the second rattlesnake being destroyed, Mike and Reuben followed us into the canoe. Scarcely had we shoved off when three or four more rattlesnakes were seen, and we felt thankful that none of us had been bitten by them. We had literally encamped in the midst of a colony of the venomous reptiles.We had to exercise the same caution in going out of the harbour as on entering it; after which we continued our course to the eastward at a moderate distance from the shore.“The day was, Masther Roger, when you and I would have been very happy to have fallen in with as many of those same snakes as we could have caught,” observed Mike to me. “They’re mighty good ateing, barring the head and tail. At laste, the Ridskins hold to that notion.”I was, I confess, very thankful that we had not been compelled to eat the creatures; though I did not know what hunger might have induced me to do.As we paddled on, Uncle Mark asked Lily and Dora to sing. They were not girls to offer excuses, and declare that they were out of voice.“What shall it be?” said Lily.“Anything you like,” replied Dora; and immediately they commenced a melody which, although I had heard it before, sounded very sweet on the calm water.Reuben and I joined in chorus; and the men, as well they might, applauded heartily. Then one of them commenced a canoe-song, in which they all joined. As soon as they ceased, Lily and Dora gave us a third; and so we went on, singing and paddling over the calm water.“Och! but it’s a sad pity that them Ridskins have got me beautiful fiddle!” exclaimed Mike. “Would I not have been giving you all a tune! Sure, if I do not recover it I will be breaking me heart intirely.”He said this in so melancholy and yet comical a tone, that Reuben and I burst out laughing. We reminded him that our Indian friend had promised to try and recover his beloved instrument, and by degrees he regained his spirits.The weather continued fine, and the water smooth as before. As I gazed over the vast expanse spread out on our left, I could scarcely fancy myself navigating an inland lake, small though it was compared to many in that region. I thought, too, of how it would appear should a storm arise, and the now tranquil surface be turned into foaming billows by the furious wind. Our canoe, with sides not much thicker than a few sheets of brown paper, would have been a frail bark for navigating the lake under such circumstances.Evening was approaching, and though we had paddled on all day we could not as yet see the mouth of the river, near which we intended to camp. We redoubled our efforts, therefore, to gain it during daylight.The sun had almost reached the watery horizon to the west, when we espied a clump of tall trees which marked the spot towards which we were directing our course. Having rounded a point, we ran into a bay with a grass-covered shore; and here we were able to land without difficulty.We unloaded the canoe, and carried our packages up to a grassy spot underneath the trees. The men immediately set to work to collect bark with which to form a wigwam for Lily and Dora; we contenting ourselves with a lean-to, which would afford us protection from the night wind. The usual fire was lighted, and as we were all very hungry, no time was lost in cooking supper. As soon as it was over Lily and Dora retired to their abode, as they had been up and ready to start some time before dawn.We sat round the fire spinning yarns, as the sailors say, and singing songs. We were speaking of the necessity of trying to get some more fresh fish, as our stock was nearly exhausted, and Mike had told the party how successful we had been till our hooks were bitten off.“But there is a place not far from here where we can catch fish without hooks,” was the answer.“Sure, and I should like to see it!” exclaimed Mike. “But how is it to be done?”“Why, with nets, to be sure,” said the canoeman. “And if you like to come with me, I will show you how I do it.”Mike at once agreed to the proposal.Hearing that some nets which would suit the purpose had been leften cachewith other articles close at hand, Reuben and I and another man agreed to accompany them.Jacques Lerocque, Mike’s friend, was an amusing fellow, and fond of practical joking. It struck me at the time that he was up to some trick; but he put on so grave a face, and spoke so earnestly, that my suspicions were banished.On reaching the cache, which was close to the camp, I found that the nets were something in the form of hand-nets, only larger. We were also provided with a lantern containing a thick tallow candle.“You see how to use these nets!” said Jacques. “We put them into the water, and then hold the candle at the further end. When the fish see the light, they swim towards it and are caught.”The plan seemed very feasible, and Mike declared that he thought it was a mighty convenient way of obtaining a supper.We were to fish in twos; one man to hold the net, and the other the light. Reuben agreed to accompany Mike, and I was to take the other man; while Jacques said he would superintend operations, promising us an abundance of sport if we would follow his directions.Going on for half a mile over hard ground, we reached a marsh which was connected with the lake.“It is very full of fish, which come in to feed on the insects clinging to the reeds,” observed Jacques, “But you must not mind wetting your feet.”However, having so recently recovered from a severe illness, I thought it wiser, when it came to the point, not to do this; so Jacques took my intended companion with him.“Here, Master Reuben, you take one bit of candle and I the other,” said Jacques, cutting the piece in the lantern in two.Reuben and Mike at once plunged into the marsh, and made their way through the rushes. I heard their voices, although from where I stood I could not see them. Presently Mike exclaimed—“Here comes a big one! Howld the light furder back, Masther Reuben, and, bedad, we’ll have him. Sure, though, he’s gone off; come a little furder. There he is now; this time he’ll be afther getting caught, sure enough.”Then the sound of splashing and the crackling of the reeds reached my ears, when presently Mike cried out,—“Och! murther, but what are these bastes about? They’ll be biting off our noses, and bunging up our eyes! But we must have the fish, though. Och! murther, murther!”Reuben’s voice joined in chorus, though with varied exclamations.I ran to a point near the spot which my friends had reached, and there I saw Mike bending down, holding the net in one hand, while he endeavoured to beat off with his hat a swarm of mosquitoes which were buzzing thickly round him. Reuben stood near holding out the candle, and a second net in his other hand, which prevented him from defending his face from the venomous bites of his persevering assailants. Still, though his countenance exhibited the sufferings he was enduring, he manfully kept his post.Just then the most fearful shrieks and cries rent the air, sounding like the war-whoop of a band of savage Indians.“Och, but the Ridskins are upon us!” cried out Mike. “We must run for it, Masther Reuben dear. Niver mind the nets, or the fish, or the mosquito bastes. It’s too much for any mortal man to stand, with the savages into the bargain. Come along as fast as your legs can carry you; but we will find Masther Roger first. We must not lave him behind to be scalped; and as to Jacques and Tom Hodges, if they have not taken care of themselves, it’s more than we can do for them.”Mike was rapidly uttering these expressions while, floundering along, he made his way up to where I was standing. Whether or not Reuben was aware of the true state of the case I could not tell, but he was certainly following much more leisurely than might have been expected. I had that moment caught sight of the grinning countenances of Jacques and Tom over the rushes, and guessed that the former was playing off one of his tricks.When Mike saw me, he exclaimed, “Run, Masther Roger, run! sure, don’t you hear the shrieks of the Indians? They will have the scalps off our heads, if we don’t show them our heels, before many minutes are over.”I burst out laughing, and pointed to our two companions, who, however, at that moment bobbed down and hid themselves among the rushes.Mike now began to suspect that a trick had been played him; but nothing ever made him angry, so, laughing as I was doing, he exclaimed—“Come out of that, ye spalpeens! It will be many a day before you get me to go fishing with you again.”Jacques, having had his joke, recovered the nets, and being well experienced in the style of sport, in a short time caught half a dozen fine fish, with which we returned to the camp. I was glad to roll myself up in my blanket, and go to sleep under the shelter of our lean-to; but the rest of the party sat up cooking and eating one of our prizes.I was awoke before long by the sound of loud growlings, which made Uncle Mark and several of the party start to their feet, with guns ready to receive the bear from whom they expected an attack. Recollecting Jacques’ propensity to practical joking, I lay quiet; and I heard my uncle come back soon afterwards, growling almost as much as the supposed bear, and observing that the brute had got off, though it must have been close to the camp. I said nothing, though I suspected who had performed the part of the bear. The next morning I looked about, but could discover no traces of such an animal. Jacques, if he had represented it, kept his own counsel; and after we had started I heard him complaining that his night’s rest should have been so disagreeably disturbed.Lily and Dora had been awakened, but they, trusting to the vigilance of their protectors, had wisely gone to sleep again, being very sure that, did any savage animal approach the camp, we should soon give a good account of it.We had a long paddle up the river, and had again to encamp, but no event worthy of mention occurred; and the next day, late in the evening, we reached the settlement. Lily and Dora and Reuben went to their respective homes; and after we had paid a visit to Uncle Stephen and Aunt Hannah, to convince them that we were still alive notwithstanding our perilous adventures, we returned to the hut, where we were welcomed by our three canine friends, which had been left to guard it under charge of one of Uncle Stephen’s men.The autumn soon passed by, and once more the winter was upon us. We had plenty of work in felling trees, and either burning them or dragging them over the snow to places where we intended to cut them up. Occasionally we paid a visit to the settlement; indeed, I was always glad of an excuse for passing a few hours with Lily when I could spare the time. I looked in, also, on my friends the Claxtons. Both they and my uncles, as Lily had told me, were, I observed, becoming more and more discontented with the settlement, as were likewise a number of other people, and the attractions of the new regions of the far west were the constant subject of conversation. We at the hut troubled ourselves much less about such matters than did our friends. We had plenty of hard work, and were pretty well tired when the day’s labours were over. Mike declared that the only drawback to his happiness was the loss of his fiddle, which he never expected to see again.“Dat am de cause ob my grief,” observed Quambo, putting his hand to his heart. “If you did get it, would not we hab a dance! We would kick up de heels all night long, to make up for lost time.”It was some days after this that we one evening saw an Indian coming through the opening which had now been made down to the river, walking on snow-shoes, and with a package of some size on his back.“Here comes Kakaik! I wonder what him bring!” exclaimed Quambo, running forward to meet our visitor.Kakaik having made signs that he had got something valuable, Mike advanced with open mouth and outstretched hands. An idea had occurred to him.“What is it, me friend?” he asked eagerly.The Indian began a long speech.“Och, man alive! just tell us what it’s all about,” cried Mike, who could no longer restrain his curiosity.By this time Uncle Mark had come out of the hut. The Indian, however, would go on with his address, of which we did not understand a word. Mike kept all the time pointing to the package, and entreating him to undo it.At length the Indian stopped and commenced untying the thongs which secured the mysterious parcel, and exposed to the delighted eyes of Mike—his fiddle and bow.“Sure, I thought so!” exclaimed the Irishman, eagerly grasping his treasure. “Erin go bragh!—long life to yese, me jewil!” and clapping the instrument to his chin, he made an attempt to play on it; but it required, as may be supposed, no small amount of tuning. Mike at once set to work, however, turning the keys and drawing the bow over the strings, all the time uttering expressions of gratitude to the Indian, and to all concerned in the recovery of the fiddle. The moment he had tuned it to his satisfaction, he began playing one of the merriest of jigs, in unison with his own joyous spirits.Quambo on hearing the sounds started up, snapping his fingers, kicking up his legs, and whirling round and round in time to the tune. The Indian, grave as was his exterior, forthwith joined him, out-vying him in his leaps, and adding the wildest shrieks and shouts. I could not long resist their example, and in a few minutes even Uncle Mark was dancing away as vigorously as any of us; Mike all the time kicking his heels, and bobbing his head with a rapidity which seemed to threaten the dislocation of his neck. It was the wildest scene imaginable, and any one observing us would have supposed that we had all gone mad.At last we had to stop from sheer want of breath, and on entering the hut Kakaik informed us that it was through the exertions of Manilick that the fiddle had been recovered. He had paid half-a-dozen yards of cotton, the same number of strings of beads, a looking-glass, and a frying-pan, for the treasure. It had been regarded with reverential awe by the possessors. He sent it, however, as a gift to the rightful owner, and declined to receive anything in return.“Faix, thin, I will be grateful to him till the end of me days,” answered Mike; “and I hope that you will receive, for your throuble in coming, Masther Kakaik, my ’baccy-box, and half-a-dozen red cotton handkerchiefs for your wife and childer, all of them bran-new, except one which I wore as a night-cap when I last had a cowld, and another which has been in use for a matther of a week or so.”Kakaik accepted the proffered gifts with due gratitude, and further informed us that the Indians from whom Mike and I escaped had succeeded in regaining their encampment, though the fire had been close to their heels; and until Manilick’s ambassador visited them they had supposed that we were destroyed. By the manner in which we had got away from them, we were very much raised in their opinion; though they threatened, should they ever catch hold of us, to have our scalps off our heads.“Much obliged to the gintlemen,” remarked Mike; “but we will not let them do that same if we can help it, and we’ll show them that the Palefaces have as much brains in their skulls as the Ridskins, cunning as they think themselves.”Kakaik consented to stop with us for the night, and we had several more tunes from Mike’s fiddle, and another dance, almost as boisterous as the first. Kakaik, after remaining a day with us, took his departure, loaded with as many articles as he could well carry; some forced on him by Mike and Quambo, others being given by my uncle and myself as presents to our friends. I should have said that Kakaik also told us that Manilick was frequently at Kepenau’s camp, and appeared to be favourably received by Ashatea.Mike’s fiddle was a constant source of amusement to us during the remainder of the winter.Spring returned, whereupon Kepenau paid us another visit. He said that he and his people had determined to move further westward, into an unoccupied territory, and he feared that some time would pass before he could again see our faces, but that he hoped occasionally to come with the peltries he and his people might obtain.I accompanied him to the settlement. Lily was much grieved to find that she and Ashatea were not likely to meet again for a long time.“I thought that she would have become like one of us,” she said, “and live in a comfortable house, and adopt our habits.”“A flower of the forest cannot bloom on the mountain top; nor can one born in the wilderness live happily in a city,” answered Kepenau. “Though she may not adopt the habits of the Palefaces, she loves them, and the true faith they have taught her, and will ever pray to the same God they worship to protect them from danger.”Reuben scarcely attempted to conceal his disappointment, and even offered to accompany Kepenau back to his lodges; but the chief shook his head.“If it is not well for my daughter to dwell among your people, still worse would it be for you to live with us, natives of the land,” he answered. “Stay with your parents, and support and protect them, and you will be blessed, and made far happier than were you to follow the desires of your heart.”After spending some days with us, Kepenau took his departure.We were, as usual, very busy getting in the crops on our newly cleared ground, and carrying on other agricultural pursuits. The summer was intensely hot,—far hotter than I ever recollected it. The crops had come up early, but the locusts appeared and destroyed every growing thing which had risen above the surface. This greatly disappointed those who had looked forward to an early harvest.About this time a stranger arrived at the settlement. He quickly made himself known as Mr Simon Sparks; and said, moreover, that he was the chief land agent of a new territory far to the west, which wonderfully surpassed our settlement in richness of soil, and fertility, and abundance of game. His accounts were eagerly listened to, and my uncles were completely carried away, as were a large portion of the community. Still, some of the older people were of the opinion that well should be let alone; and that if we took as much pains in cultivating the ground as we should have to do were we to make a long journey, we should prove, notwithstanding the difficulties which might beset us, as successful in the end.Mr Sparks, however, was not a man to be defeated in his object; he continued arguing the point till he had won over a good many adherents. Still, he had not gained a sufficient number to suit his purpose.“Well, friends,” he said, mounting his horse one evening, as a large number of the inhabitants were assembled in the chief open place in the village, which was designated the Square, “do I look like a man who would mislead you, or fail to carry out my promises? I have slain many a bear, hunted the buffalo across the prairies, and, single-handed, fought and defeated scores of Redskins. With such fellows as you at my back, even if ten thousand were to attempt to stop us we would force our way onward, and send them to the right-about. What are you afraid of? If rivers are to be crossed, we can form rafts and swim our cattle over. There is grass on the plains, and game in the forests to supply all our wants; and a glorious country at the end of the journey, where happy homes can be established, and wealth obtained for ourselves and our children. I ask you again—Do you take me for a man who would bamboozle you; or do I look like one who will prove true as steel, and fulfil all his engagements, as an honest man should do? Those who believe that I speak the truth, hold up their hands; and those who don’t, keep them down, and we part friends notwithstanding.”Few of us could help confessing that, as Mr Simon Sparks, with his tall sinewy figure, firm-set lips, and keen eyes, sat there on his strongly-built mustang, his rifle held across his saddle, he did look like a man very capable of doing what he said he had done, and what he said he would do. Nearly all hands were raised up.“Thank you, friends,” he said; “I will stay another day with you, and we will talk the matter over again. If a fair number are determined to move, we will go together; if not, I shall soon find others who know their interests better than you seem to do.”Saying this, he dismounted, and went to spend the evening with Mr Claxton, who was one of his chief adherents.I returned home to report to Uncle Mark what Mr Sparks had said; but he was doubtful about moving till he had secured a purchaser for the land we had cleared with so much labour.We were about to turn in for the night, when Quambo, who had been to look after the cattle and pigs, reported that he observed a peculiar glare through the opening towards the west, though no camp-fire was likely to be burning in that direction. We all hurried out to look at what the black had described, and saw the brilliancy of the glare rapidly increasing.“It is such a fire as it will take many bucketfuls of water to put out!” exclaimed Uncle Mark. “As I live, boys, the forest is in flames! And they are likely to extend pretty rapidly, too, with the wood dry as it now is.”“What had we better do?” I asked.“Collect our cattle, pigs, and poultry, take our guns and ammunition, and a supply of food, and get out of the wood as fast as possible,” he answered, quite calmly. “In a few minutes, if I mistake not, we shall have the forest blazing away all round us; and nothing that I know of can save the hut from destruction. It will be fortunate if the village itself escapes, for the forest comes close up to it on two sides; and there will be no time to clear away the trees, and put an open belt between the houses and the fire.”Influenced by Uncle Mark’s spirit, we immediately set to work to drive in the cattle, set the pigs free, and collect the poultry. We loaded the waggon with as many articles as it could carry; and harnessing the oxen, commenced our retreat.We were not a moment too soon, for already the forest to the westward was in a blaze, extending from the river far away to the north. A narrow belt of trees alone remained between us and the conflagration, the dense smoke, curling in thick wreaths, being sent by the wind towards us, and making respiration difficult. While Uncle Mark took charge of the waggon, the rest of us drove on the other animals, directing our course to the settlement by the only open road. We knew, indeed, that in a short time we might have the fire on both sides of us.The flames rose up high above the tops of the trees in the rear. The crackling of the burning branches, and the loud reports as the thick trunks were split in two by the heat, sounded alarmingly near—the whole landscape before us being lighted up by the glare shed from the burning forest. We might, we believed, escape with our lives, were we to leave the waggon and the cattle, but that was very far from Uncle Mark’s thoughts. By voice and whip we urged on the oxen, and shouting, shrieking, and using our thick sticks, we endeavoured to drive forward our refractory charges.The inhabitants of the village must have seen the conflagration long before this, and would, we hoped, be preparing for their escape.I remembered the fire on the prairie. Then only the grass was burning, but now we should soon have the tall trees in flames on both sides of us. In a few minutes the flaming masses might be tumbling down on our heads, and overwhelming us. The thought of this prevented us from relaxing our efforts. We ran here and there flourishing our sticks, shouting and bawling till we were hoarse; still, we kept ahead of the fire, although it was advancing rapidly in our track. The hut, outbuildings, and enclosures must already, we knew, be reduced to a mass of cinders; but there was no use thinking about that. We should be fortunate, did we preserve the more valuable part of our property.At length the road became wider, and we got among clearings, which would somewhat stop the progress of the flames, did they not impede them altogether. We dared not halt, however, but pushed on, directing our course to the south side of the village, where the country was completely open, and no trees left standing. The river, too, ran in that direction, and some flat marshes on the banks would afford security to all fugitives.I was thinking all the time of Lily, and my uncle and aunt; and had not my duty compelled me to remain with the cattle, I would certainly have hurried on to warn them, in case they should not have discovered their danger. However, I felt sure that Uncle Mark would not have forgotten them, and that he was satisfied they would take the necessary steps to escape. Uncle Stephen had also a waggon in which to convey his household goods out of the way of danger.As we got near the village, we were satisfied that the inhabitants were aroused; for already several waggons were moving forward in the direction we were going, while we heard the shouts of the men driving others in the rear. Fortunate, indeed, were those who had waggons, as the rest of the people would have to carry on their shoulders everything they wished to save.The wind, which had increased, hurried forward the fire with terrific rapidity, and drove the smoke in dense masses round us, so that, bright as were the flames, we could often see but a short distance ahead. The shouts and cries of the terrified settlers increased in loudness. All hope that the village would be preserved must by this time have been abandoned. The fire was coming up from the west and north-west, leaping at a bound, as it seemed, over the clearings; the burning branches, driven by the wind, quickly igniting all combustible matters amid which they fell.We at last reached the ground I have spoken of; but not without the loss of some of our hogs, which had got away from us, in spite of our efforts to drive them forward. Having early taken the alarm, we were the first to arrive, but others from the village quickly followed; when we immediately set to work to cut down every bush and blade of grass which might catch fire.In a short time I heard Uncle Stephen’s voice, and thankful indeed was I to see Lily and Aunt Hannah safe. They had found time to load their waggon with the most valuable part of their property and a store of provisions. The Claxtons directly afterwards arrived, and reported that there were still several persons remaining in the village, who believed that the conflagration would not reach it, and that they would be perfectly safe. We were, however, too busily engaged in clearing the ground to think of anything else.It was fortunate that these precautions had been taken. In a short time, as we looked towards the village, we saw the flames rising up in all directions. The fire came working its way along; in some places in thin lines, in others like a wave rolling over the sandy beach, and consuming everything in its course.Before the night was half over a semicircle of flame was blazing up round the spot we occupied; the river, which was here very broad, preventing the progress of the fire in that direction. Still, a burning brand, driven across a narrow part by the wind, might set some dry grass or bushes on fire; and it was impossible to say how far it might then extend. Frequently the stifling smoke almost prevented our breathing, and we had to throw ourselves on the ground to escape it.All night long did the fire rage round us. The heat was intense, and the smoke and fine black dust blown over us was most oppressive. Happily, we had water near to quench our thirst, blackened though it was with ashes; and we had reason to be thankful that we had reached a place of safety—the only one near the settlement where we could have escaped destruction.The women and children were placed in the waggons, where they endeavoured to obtain some rest. The ground was too wet for the men to lie down; and we therefore either leaned against the wheels of the waggons or walked about. Indeed, we had ample occupation in beating out the fire, which ran along the most dry portions of the ground we occupied, wherever there was herbage of any description.Morning came: but the fire raged on; and there was but little chance of our being able to move for some days to come. We had, however, no lack of meat; for, besides the pigs and poultry, several deer and numerous small animals rushed for safety towards our camp—only to meet the fate they were attempting to avoid. Two or three bears, also endeavouring to escape from the flames, were shot. No wolves or foxes came near us: they had probably, exercising their cunning, made their escape from the burning forest against the wind.Daylight showed us such a scene of desolation as I hope never again to look on. Not a vestige of the village remained; while blackened trunks—some with a few of their stouter limbs still branching from them, others reduced to mere black poles, and many burned down to stumps—appeared in every direction. The crops had disappeared; and not even a fence was standing.Thus the settlers, with sorrowful countenances, beheld the labour of years destroyed.

The canoe in which Uncle Mark had come up had been built by some Indians on the lake, who intended to dispose of it to the fur-traders; but, in consequence of some dispute, they had refused to let them have it, and had thereafter sold it to my uncles at a reduced price.

It was of far superior construction to those we had hitherto seen used, though of the same materials.

Formed of large sheets of birch-bark, kept in shape by delicate ribs of lance-wood or willow, it was nearly forty feet in length, and sharp at both ends; and the seams where the bark was sewn together were covered by a thick resinous gum, which became hard in the water. Like the small canoes, it required careful handling; for, having no keel, it was easily turned over. It was impelled by six or eight paddles,—three or four on one side, and the same number on the other; one man steering with a paddle, as well as paddling.

Uncle Mark had come down one river, then across the lake, and up another river, instead of the shorter route along the course of several narrower streams with rapids, which necessitated the same number of portages. By this means he was able to bring a cargo of cottons, cutlery, and other heavy articles. He purposed returning by the same route, though it might have been possible to carry the canoe across the portages, as the bales of peltries occupied less space than the cargo he had brought. There was sufficient room, too, for the four additional people the canoe had now to carry.

The day before we were to start, Ashatea appeared to be very unhappy. It was, I concluded, at the thought of parting from Lily; but Lily afterwards told me that it was more on account of Manilick, who still refused to embrace Christianity.

“We must pray for him,” said Lily. “Kepenau has taken every opportunity of speaking to him, and putting the truth plainly before him; but though he would very gladly make Ashatea his wife, he still remains firm in his heathen belief.”

We could no longer delay our return home, as the autumn was advancing, and before long we might expect storms and frosts, which would make our proposed voyage in the canoe both trying and dangerous.

The whole tribe came down to the bank of the river at early dawn to see us off, as Uncle Mark wished to cross the lake before sunset. We should have to encamp for the night, and continue our voyage up the river next morning.

We made good progress down the stream, having the current with us, and entered the lake just as the sun rose above what appeared like a sea horizon, though we knew that the shore was not far off on the opposite side. The calm lake shone like a burnished mirror. The shore we were leaving was tinted with various colours, the higher ground here crowned by groups of spruce-firs, and in other places rocky and barren, but still picturesque in the extreme.

I took a paddle and sat by Lily. Reuben and Mike also made themselves of use; while Uncle Mark sat with Dora at the bottom of the canoe. It was the first voyage I had ever taken on the lake, and Lily and I agreed that it would be very pleasant to have a canoe or small vessel of our own, and to cruise round the shores, exploring every inlet and creek.

As the sun rose the heat became intense; not a breath of air stirred the surface of the lake, and Lily, who had taken off her hat, was very glad to put it on again. After paddling for some distance we landed to breakfast, or rather to dine; for we did not intend to stop again till we went on shore to encamp for the night.

Wild rocks fringed the shore, and we had to exercise great caution in approaching it, for the slightest touch would have knocked a hole in the bow of our canoe, and we should very soon have had the water rushing in. We had, therefore, to look out for some opening into which we could slowly paddle till we found a landing-place. After making two or three ineffectual attempts, we succeeded in finding a bank with an almost perpendicular side, on to which we could at once step from the canoe.

Immediately after landing, all hands set to work to collect wood for a fire. An abundance lay on the ground, driven there by the wind. Lily and Dora undertook to cook the breakfast, the materials for which consisted of eggs, fish, maize cakes, and dandelion coffee—the roots having been prepared by Aunt Hannah. We soon had a fire blazing up, when, as Uncle Mark declared, Lily and Dora performed their duties in a most efficient manner.

Just as we had finished, one of the men, who were seated at some little distance from us, started up, exclaiming, “Take care! take care! there are rattlesnakes near us.”

Scarcely had he spoken when I saw one of the venomous creatures, the sound of whose tail the man had heard, rearing its head not five feet off from Lily. In another moment it might spring on her. Fortunately a long thin stick lay close to me, which I seized, and with all my might struck the snake a blow on the head which brought it to the ground, while I cried out to Lily to run to a distance. Almost in an instant the snake recovered itself, and sounding its rattle as it moved forward, made an attempt to spring at me. Again I struck it; and Mike coming to my assistance, it was quickly despatched.

Where one rattlesnake is found, there are generally many more. Scarcely two minutes had passed ere another made its appearance, crawling out of a hole under a tree. While Mike and Reuben went to attack it, Uncle Mark advised that we should all get on board without delay. Our breakfast and cooking things were quickly packed up; and the second rattlesnake being destroyed, Mike and Reuben followed us into the canoe. Scarcely had we shoved off when three or four more rattlesnakes were seen, and we felt thankful that none of us had been bitten by them. We had literally encamped in the midst of a colony of the venomous reptiles.

We had to exercise the same caution in going out of the harbour as on entering it; after which we continued our course to the eastward at a moderate distance from the shore.

“The day was, Masther Roger, when you and I would have been very happy to have fallen in with as many of those same snakes as we could have caught,” observed Mike to me. “They’re mighty good ateing, barring the head and tail. At laste, the Ridskins hold to that notion.”

I was, I confess, very thankful that we had not been compelled to eat the creatures; though I did not know what hunger might have induced me to do.

As we paddled on, Uncle Mark asked Lily and Dora to sing. They were not girls to offer excuses, and declare that they were out of voice.

“What shall it be?” said Lily.

“Anything you like,” replied Dora; and immediately they commenced a melody which, although I had heard it before, sounded very sweet on the calm water.

Reuben and I joined in chorus; and the men, as well they might, applauded heartily. Then one of them commenced a canoe-song, in which they all joined. As soon as they ceased, Lily and Dora gave us a third; and so we went on, singing and paddling over the calm water.

“Och! but it’s a sad pity that them Ridskins have got me beautiful fiddle!” exclaimed Mike. “Would I not have been giving you all a tune! Sure, if I do not recover it I will be breaking me heart intirely.”

He said this in so melancholy and yet comical a tone, that Reuben and I burst out laughing. We reminded him that our Indian friend had promised to try and recover his beloved instrument, and by degrees he regained his spirits.

The weather continued fine, and the water smooth as before. As I gazed over the vast expanse spread out on our left, I could scarcely fancy myself navigating an inland lake, small though it was compared to many in that region. I thought, too, of how it would appear should a storm arise, and the now tranquil surface be turned into foaming billows by the furious wind. Our canoe, with sides not much thicker than a few sheets of brown paper, would have been a frail bark for navigating the lake under such circumstances.

Evening was approaching, and though we had paddled on all day we could not as yet see the mouth of the river, near which we intended to camp. We redoubled our efforts, therefore, to gain it during daylight.

The sun had almost reached the watery horizon to the west, when we espied a clump of tall trees which marked the spot towards which we were directing our course. Having rounded a point, we ran into a bay with a grass-covered shore; and here we were able to land without difficulty.

We unloaded the canoe, and carried our packages up to a grassy spot underneath the trees. The men immediately set to work to collect bark with which to form a wigwam for Lily and Dora; we contenting ourselves with a lean-to, which would afford us protection from the night wind. The usual fire was lighted, and as we were all very hungry, no time was lost in cooking supper. As soon as it was over Lily and Dora retired to their abode, as they had been up and ready to start some time before dawn.

We sat round the fire spinning yarns, as the sailors say, and singing songs. We were speaking of the necessity of trying to get some more fresh fish, as our stock was nearly exhausted, and Mike had told the party how successful we had been till our hooks were bitten off.

“But there is a place not far from here where we can catch fish without hooks,” was the answer.

“Sure, and I should like to see it!” exclaimed Mike. “But how is it to be done?”

“Why, with nets, to be sure,” said the canoeman. “And if you like to come with me, I will show you how I do it.”

Mike at once agreed to the proposal.

Hearing that some nets which would suit the purpose had been leften cachewith other articles close at hand, Reuben and I and another man agreed to accompany them.

Jacques Lerocque, Mike’s friend, was an amusing fellow, and fond of practical joking. It struck me at the time that he was up to some trick; but he put on so grave a face, and spoke so earnestly, that my suspicions were banished.

On reaching the cache, which was close to the camp, I found that the nets were something in the form of hand-nets, only larger. We were also provided with a lantern containing a thick tallow candle.

“You see how to use these nets!” said Jacques. “We put them into the water, and then hold the candle at the further end. When the fish see the light, they swim towards it and are caught.”

The plan seemed very feasible, and Mike declared that he thought it was a mighty convenient way of obtaining a supper.

We were to fish in twos; one man to hold the net, and the other the light. Reuben agreed to accompany Mike, and I was to take the other man; while Jacques said he would superintend operations, promising us an abundance of sport if we would follow his directions.

Going on for half a mile over hard ground, we reached a marsh which was connected with the lake.

“It is very full of fish, which come in to feed on the insects clinging to the reeds,” observed Jacques, “But you must not mind wetting your feet.”

However, having so recently recovered from a severe illness, I thought it wiser, when it came to the point, not to do this; so Jacques took my intended companion with him.

“Here, Master Reuben, you take one bit of candle and I the other,” said Jacques, cutting the piece in the lantern in two.

Reuben and Mike at once plunged into the marsh, and made their way through the rushes. I heard their voices, although from where I stood I could not see them. Presently Mike exclaimed—

“Here comes a big one! Howld the light furder back, Masther Reuben, and, bedad, we’ll have him. Sure, though, he’s gone off; come a little furder. There he is now; this time he’ll be afther getting caught, sure enough.”

Then the sound of splashing and the crackling of the reeds reached my ears, when presently Mike cried out,—“Och! murther, but what are these bastes about? They’ll be biting off our noses, and bunging up our eyes! But we must have the fish, though. Och! murther, murther!”

Reuben’s voice joined in chorus, though with varied exclamations.

I ran to a point near the spot which my friends had reached, and there I saw Mike bending down, holding the net in one hand, while he endeavoured to beat off with his hat a swarm of mosquitoes which were buzzing thickly round him. Reuben stood near holding out the candle, and a second net in his other hand, which prevented him from defending his face from the venomous bites of his persevering assailants. Still, though his countenance exhibited the sufferings he was enduring, he manfully kept his post.

Just then the most fearful shrieks and cries rent the air, sounding like the war-whoop of a band of savage Indians.

“Och, but the Ridskins are upon us!” cried out Mike. “We must run for it, Masther Reuben dear. Niver mind the nets, or the fish, or the mosquito bastes. It’s too much for any mortal man to stand, with the savages into the bargain. Come along as fast as your legs can carry you; but we will find Masther Roger first. We must not lave him behind to be scalped; and as to Jacques and Tom Hodges, if they have not taken care of themselves, it’s more than we can do for them.”

Mike was rapidly uttering these expressions while, floundering along, he made his way up to where I was standing. Whether or not Reuben was aware of the true state of the case I could not tell, but he was certainly following much more leisurely than might have been expected. I had that moment caught sight of the grinning countenances of Jacques and Tom over the rushes, and guessed that the former was playing off one of his tricks.

When Mike saw me, he exclaimed, “Run, Masther Roger, run! sure, don’t you hear the shrieks of the Indians? They will have the scalps off our heads, if we don’t show them our heels, before many minutes are over.”

I burst out laughing, and pointed to our two companions, who, however, at that moment bobbed down and hid themselves among the rushes.

Mike now began to suspect that a trick had been played him; but nothing ever made him angry, so, laughing as I was doing, he exclaimed—

“Come out of that, ye spalpeens! It will be many a day before you get me to go fishing with you again.”

Jacques, having had his joke, recovered the nets, and being well experienced in the style of sport, in a short time caught half a dozen fine fish, with which we returned to the camp. I was glad to roll myself up in my blanket, and go to sleep under the shelter of our lean-to; but the rest of the party sat up cooking and eating one of our prizes.

I was awoke before long by the sound of loud growlings, which made Uncle Mark and several of the party start to their feet, with guns ready to receive the bear from whom they expected an attack. Recollecting Jacques’ propensity to practical joking, I lay quiet; and I heard my uncle come back soon afterwards, growling almost as much as the supposed bear, and observing that the brute had got off, though it must have been close to the camp. I said nothing, though I suspected who had performed the part of the bear. The next morning I looked about, but could discover no traces of such an animal. Jacques, if he had represented it, kept his own counsel; and after we had started I heard him complaining that his night’s rest should have been so disagreeably disturbed.

Lily and Dora had been awakened, but they, trusting to the vigilance of their protectors, had wisely gone to sleep again, being very sure that, did any savage animal approach the camp, we should soon give a good account of it.

We had a long paddle up the river, and had again to encamp, but no event worthy of mention occurred; and the next day, late in the evening, we reached the settlement. Lily and Dora and Reuben went to their respective homes; and after we had paid a visit to Uncle Stephen and Aunt Hannah, to convince them that we were still alive notwithstanding our perilous adventures, we returned to the hut, where we were welcomed by our three canine friends, which had been left to guard it under charge of one of Uncle Stephen’s men.

The autumn soon passed by, and once more the winter was upon us. We had plenty of work in felling trees, and either burning them or dragging them over the snow to places where we intended to cut them up. Occasionally we paid a visit to the settlement; indeed, I was always glad of an excuse for passing a few hours with Lily when I could spare the time. I looked in, also, on my friends the Claxtons. Both they and my uncles, as Lily had told me, were, I observed, becoming more and more discontented with the settlement, as were likewise a number of other people, and the attractions of the new regions of the far west were the constant subject of conversation. We at the hut troubled ourselves much less about such matters than did our friends. We had plenty of hard work, and were pretty well tired when the day’s labours were over. Mike declared that the only drawback to his happiness was the loss of his fiddle, which he never expected to see again.

“Dat am de cause ob my grief,” observed Quambo, putting his hand to his heart. “If you did get it, would not we hab a dance! We would kick up de heels all night long, to make up for lost time.”

It was some days after this that we one evening saw an Indian coming through the opening which had now been made down to the river, walking on snow-shoes, and with a package of some size on his back.

“Here comes Kakaik! I wonder what him bring!” exclaimed Quambo, running forward to meet our visitor.

Kakaik having made signs that he had got something valuable, Mike advanced with open mouth and outstretched hands. An idea had occurred to him.

“What is it, me friend?” he asked eagerly.

The Indian began a long speech.

“Och, man alive! just tell us what it’s all about,” cried Mike, who could no longer restrain his curiosity.

By this time Uncle Mark had come out of the hut. The Indian, however, would go on with his address, of which we did not understand a word. Mike kept all the time pointing to the package, and entreating him to undo it.

At length the Indian stopped and commenced untying the thongs which secured the mysterious parcel, and exposed to the delighted eyes of Mike—his fiddle and bow.

“Sure, I thought so!” exclaimed the Irishman, eagerly grasping his treasure. “Erin go bragh!—long life to yese, me jewil!” and clapping the instrument to his chin, he made an attempt to play on it; but it required, as may be supposed, no small amount of tuning. Mike at once set to work, however, turning the keys and drawing the bow over the strings, all the time uttering expressions of gratitude to the Indian, and to all concerned in the recovery of the fiddle. The moment he had tuned it to his satisfaction, he began playing one of the merriest of jigs, in unison with his own joyous spirits.

Quambo on hearing the sounds started up, snapping his fingers, kicking up his legs, and whirling round and round in time to the tune. The Indian, grave as was his exterior, forthwith joined him, out-vying him in his leaps, and adding the wildest shrieks and shouts. I could not long resist their example, and in a few minutes even Uncle Mark was dancing away as vigorously as any of us; Mike all the time kicking his heels, and bobbing his head with a rapidity which seemed to threaten the dislocation of his neck. It was the wildest scene imaginable, and any one observing us would have supposed that we had all gone mad.

At last we had to stop from sheer want of breath, and on entering the hut Kakaik informed us that it was through the exertions of Manilick that the fiddle had been recovered. He had paid half-a-dozen yards of cotton, the same number of strings of beads, a looking-glass, and a frying-pan, for the treasure. It had been regarded with reverential awe by the possessors. He sent it, however, as a gift to the rightful owner, and declined to receive anything in return.

“Faix, thin, I will be grateful to him till the end of me days,” answered Mike; “and I hope that you will receive, for your throuble in coming, Masther Kakaik, my ’baccy-box, and half-a-dozen red cotton handkerchiefs for your wife and childer, all of them bran-new, except one which I wore as a night-cap when I last had a cowld, and another which has been in use for a matther of a week or so.”

Kakaik accepted the proffered gifts with due gratitude, and further informed us that the Indians from whom Mike and I escaped had succeeded in regaining their encampment, though the fire had been close to their heels; and until Manilick’s ambassador visited them they had supposed that we were destroyed. By the manner in which we had got away from them, we were very much raised in their opinion; though they threatened, should they ever catch hold of us, to have our scalps off our heads.

“Much obliged to the gintlemen,” remarked Mike; “but we will not let them do that same if we can help it, and we’ll show them that the Palefaces have as much brains in their skulls as the Ridskins, cunning as they think themselves.”

Kakaik consented to stop with us for the night, and we had several more tunes from Mike’s fiddle, and another dance, almost as boisterous as the first. Kakaik, after remaining a day with us, took his departure, loaded with as many articles as he could well carry; some forced on him by Mike and Quambo, others being given by my uncle and myself as presents to our friends. I should have said that Kakaik also told us that Manilick was frequently at Kepenau’s camp, and appeared to be favourably received by Ashatea.

Mike’s fiddle was a constant source of amusement to us during the remainder of the winter.

Spring returned, whereupon Kepenau paid us another visit. He said that he and his people had determined to move further westward, into an unoccupied territory, and he feared that some time would pass before he could again see our faces, but that he hoped occasionally to come with the peltries he and his people might obtain.

I accompanied him to the settlement. Lily was much grieved to find that she and Ashatea were not likely to meet again for a long time.

“I thought that she would have become like one of us,” she said, “and live in a comfortable house, and adopt our habits.”

“A flower of the forest cannot bloom on the mountain top; nor can one born in the wilderness live happily in a city,” answered Kepenau. “Though she may not adopt the habits of the Palefaces, she loves them, and the true faith they have taught her, and will ever pray to the same God they worship to protect them from danger.”

Reuben scarcely attempted to conceal his disappointment, and even offered to accompany Kepenau back to his lodges; but the chief shook his head.

“If it is not well for my daughter to dwell among your people, still worse would it be for you to live with us, natives of the land,” he answered. “Stay with your parents, and support and protect them, and you will be blessed, and made far happier than were you to follow the desires of your heart.”

After spending some days with us, Kepenau took his departure.

We were, as usual, very busy getting in the crops on our newly cleared ground, and carrying on other agricultural pursuits. The summer was intensely hot,—far hotter than I ever recollected it. The crops had come up early, but the locusts appeared and destroyed every growing thing which had risen above the surface. This greatly disappointed those who had looked forward to an early harvest.

About this time a stranger arrived at the settlement. He quickly made himself known as Mr Simon Sparks; and said, moreover, that he was the chief land agent of a new territory far to the west, which wonderfully surpassed our settlement in richness of soil, and fertility, and abundance of game. His accounts were eagerly listened to, and my uncles were completely carried away, as were a large portion of the community. Still, some of the older people were of the opinion that well should be let alone; and that if we took as much pains in cultivating the ground as we should have to do were we to make a long journey, we should prove, notwithstanding the difficulties which might beset us, as successful in the end.

Mr Sparks, however, was not a man to be defeated in his object; he continued arguing the point till he had won over a good many adherents. Still, he had not gained a sufficient number to suit his purpose.

“Well, friends,” he said, mounting his horse one evening, as a large number of the inhabitants were assembled in the chief open place in the village, which was designated the Square, “do I look like a man who would mislead you, or fail to carry out my promises? I have slain many a bear, hunted the buffalo across the prairies, and, single-handed, fought and defeated scores of Redskins. With such fellows as you at my back, even if ten thousand were to attempt to stop us we would force our way onward, and send them to the right-about. What are you afraid of? If rivers are to be crossed, we can form rafts and swim our cattle over. There is grass on the plains, and game in the forests to supply all our wants; and a glorious country at the end of the journey, where happy homes can be established, and wealth obtained for ourselves and our children. I ask you again—Do you take me for a man who would bamboozle you; or do I look like one who will prove true as steel, and fulfil all his engagements, as an honest man should do? Those who believe that I speak the truth, hold up their hands; and those who don’t, keep them down, and we part friends notwithstanding.”

Few of us could help confessing that, as Mr Simon Sparks, with his tall sinewy figure, firm-set lips, and keen eyes, sat there on his strongly-built mustang, his rifle held across his saddle, he did look like a man very capable of doing what he said he had done, and what he said he would do. Nearly all hands were raised up.

“Thank you, friends,” he said; “I will stay another day with you, and we will talk the matter over again. If a fair number are determined to move, we will go together; if not, I shall soon find others who know their interests better than you seem to do.”

Saying this, he dismounted, and went to spend the evening with Mr Claxton, who was one of his chief adherents.

I returned home to report to Uncle Mark what Mr Sparks had said; but he was doubtful about moving till he had secured a purchaser for the land we had cleared with so much labour.

We were about to turn in for the night, when Quambo, who had been to look after the cattle and pigs, reported that he observed a peculiar glare through the opening towards the west, though no camp-fire was likely to be burning in that direction. We all hurried out to look at what the black had described, and saw the brilliancy of the glare rapidly increasing.

“It is such a fire as it will take many bucketfuls of water to put out!” exclaimed Uncle Mark. “As I live, boys, the forest is in flames! And they are likely to extend pretty rapidly, too, with the wood dry as it now is.”

“What had we better do?” I asked.

“Collect our cattle, pigs, and poultry, take our guns and ammunition, and a supply of food, and get out of the wood as fast as possible,” he answered, quite calmly. “In a few minutes, if I mistake not, we shall have the forest blazing away all round us; and nothing that I know of can save the hut from destruction. It will be fortunate if the village itself escapes, for the forest comes close up to it on two sides; and there will be no time to clear away the trees, and put an open belt between the houses and the fire.”

Influenced by Uncle Mark’s spirit, we immediately set to work to drive in the cattle, set the pigs free, and collect the poultry. We loaded the waggon with as many articles as it could carry; and harnessing the oxen, commenced our retreat.

We were not a moment too soon, for already the forest to the westward was in a blaze, extending from the river far away to the north. A narrow belt of trees alone remained between us and the conflagration, the dense smoke, curling in thick wreaths, being sent by the wind towards us, and making respiration difficult. While Uncle Mark took charge of the waggon, the rest of us drove on the other animals, directing our course to the settlement by the only open road. We knew, indeed, that in a short time we might have the fire on both sides of us.

The flames rose up high above the tops of the trees in the rear. The crackling of the burning branches, and the loud reports as the thick trunks were split in two by the heat, sounded alarmingly near—the whole landscape before us being lighted up by the glare shed from the burning forest. We might, we believed, escape with our lives, were we to leave the waggon and the cattle, but that was very far from Uncle Mark’s thoughts. By voice and whip we urged on the oxen, and shouting, shrieking, and using our thick sticks, we endeavoured to drive forward our refractory charges.

The inhabitants of the village must have seen the conflagration long before this, and would, we hoped, be preparing for their escape.

I remembered the fire on the prairie. Then only the grass was burning, but now we should soon have the tall trees in flames on both sides of us. In a few minutes the flaming masses might be tumbling down on our heads, and overwhelming us. The thought of this prevented us from relaxing our efforts. We ran here and there flourishing our sticks, shouting and bawling till we were hoarse; still, we kept ahead of the fire, although it was advancing rapidly in our track. The hut, outbuildings, and enclosures must already, we knew, be reduced to a mass of cinders; but there was no use thinking about that. We should be fortunate, did we preserve the more valuable part of our property.

At length the road became wider, and we got among clearings, which would somewhat stop the progress of the flames, did they not impede them altogether. We dared not halt, however, but pushed on, directing our course to the south side of the village, where the country was completely open, and no trees left standing. The river, too, ran in that direction, and some flat marshes on the banks would afford security to all fugitives.

I was thinking all the time of Lily, and my uncle and aunt; and had not my duty compelled me to remain with the cattle, I would certainly have hurried on to warn them, in case they should not have discovered their danger. However, I felt sure that Uncle Mark would not have forgotten them, and that he was satisfied they would take the necessary steps to escape. Uncle Stephen had also a waggon in which to convey his household goods out of the way of danger.

As we got near the village, we were satisfied that the inhabitants were aroused; for already several waggons were moving forward in the direction we were going, while we heard the shouts of the men driving others in the rear. Fortunate, indeed, were those who had waggons, as the rest of the people would have to carry on their shoulders everything they wished to save.

The wind, which had increased, hurried forward the fire with terrific rapidity, and drove the smoke in dense masses round us, so that, bright as were the flames, we could often see but a short distance ahead. The shouts and cries of the terrified settlers increased in loudness. All hope that the village would be preserved must by this time have been abandoned. The fire was coming up from the west and north-west, leaping at a bound, as it seemed, over the clearings; the burning branches, driven by the wind, quickly igniting all combustible matters amid which they fell.

We at last reached the ground I have spoken of; but not without the loss of some of our hogs, which had got away from us, in spite of our efforts to drive them forward. Having early taken the alarm, we were the first to arrive, but others from the village quickly followed; when we immediately set to work to cut down every bush and blade of grass which might catch fire.

In a short time I heard Uncle Stephen’s voice, and thankful indeed was I to see Lily and Aunt Hannah safe. They had found time to load their waggon with the most valuable part of their property and a store of provisions. The Claxtons directly afterwards arrived, and reported that there were still several persons remaining in the village, who believed that the conflagration would not reach it, and that they would be perfectly safe. We were, however, too busily engaged in clearing the ground to think of anything else.

It was fortunate that these precautions had been taken. In a short time, as we looked towards the village, we saw the flames rising up in all directions. The fire came working its way along; in some places in thin lines, in others like a wave rolling over the sandy beach, and consuming everything in its course.

Before the night was half over a semicircle of flame was blazing up round the spot we occupied; the river, which was here very broad, preventing the progress of the fire in that direction. Still, a burning brand, driven across a narrow part by the wind, might set some dry grass or bushes on fire; and it was impossible to say how far it might then extend. Frequently the stifling smoke almost prevented our breathing, and we had to throw ourselves on the ground to escape it.

All night long did the fire rage round us. The heat was intense, and the smoke and fine black dust blown over us was most oppressive. Happily, we had water near to quench our thirst, blackened though it was with ashes; and we had reason to be thankful that we had reached a place of safety—the only one near the settlement where we could have escaped destruction.

The women and children were placed in the waggons, where they endeavoured to obtain some rest. The ground was too wet for the men to lie down; and we therefore either leaned against the wheels of the waggons or walked about. Indeed, we had ample occupation in beating out the fire, which ran along the most dry portions of the ground we occupied, wherever there was herbage of any description.

Morning came: but the fire raged on; and there was but little chance of our being able to move for some days to come. We had, however, no lack of meat; for, besides the pigs and poultry, several deer and numerous small animals rushed for safety towards our camp—only to meet the fate they were attempting to avoid. Two or three bears, also endeavouring to escape from the flames, were shot. No wolves or foxes came near us: they had probably, exercising their cunning, made their escape from the burning forest against the wind.

Daylight showed us such a scene of desolation as I hope never again to look on. Not a vestige of the village remained; while blackened trunks—some with a few of their stouter limbs still branching from them, others reduced to mere black poles, and many burned down to stumps—appeared in every direction. The crops had disappeared; and not even a fence was standing.

Thus the settlers, with sorrowful countenances, beheld the labour of years destroyed.

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