Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.Turned Adrift in a Foreign Land.It was a calm but very dark night when Swinton, Blazer, Garnet, Heron, Taylor, and several other men of kindred spirit, rose from their couches at the further end of the island, and, stealthily quitting the place, hastened back to their original camp.They reached it about midnight, and, as they had expected, found all quiet, for the so-called “guard” of the camp had been hard at work all day and were at that moment fast asleep. Paul and the captain, with Oliver, lay side by side under a tent which they had constructed out of broken spars and a piece of sailcloth.Their foes drew together not far from the spot.“Now, men,” said Swinton, “this is a tough job we have in hand, for they are strong men, and the boy, albeit not big, is a very tiger-cat to fight. You see, if our plan was murder we could easily settle their business while they slept but that’s not our plan. We arenotmurderers—by no means!”“Certainly not,” growled Blazer, with virtuous solemnity.“Well, that bein’ so, we must take them alive. I will creep into the tent with you, Jim Heron, for you’re big and strong enough. You will fall on Trench and hold ’im down. I’ll do the same to Burns. Garnet will manage the boy. The moment the rest of you hear the row begin, you will jump in and lend a hand wi’ the ropes. After we’ve got ’em all safe into the boat, we will pull to the big island—land them there, an’ bid them a tender farewell!”“But surely you won’t land them without a morsel to eat?” said Taylor.“Why not? They’re sure to fall in wi’ theirdearfriends the savages, who will, doubtless, be very grateful to ’em, an’ supply grub gratis! Now, lads, you understand what you’ve got to do?”“Ay, ay,” was the response, in a low tone, as they moved cautiously away, like evil spirits, to carry out their wicked plans.“Fortune,” it is said, “favours the brave,” but in this case she did not thus bestow her favours, for the cowardly plan was successfully carried out. Before the sleepers were well awake, they were overwhelmed by numbers, secured and bound. They were not gagged, however, as no one was near to hear even if they shouted their loudest, which they knew it was useless to do. In a few minutes the three prisoners were hurried into the boat and rowed across the wide channel that separated the islet from the opposite shore.At that time it was not supposed, either by the original discoverers or those who immediately followed them, that Newfoundland was one large island—considerably larger than Ireland. Not till many a year afterwards did explorers ascertain that it was an island of about three hundred and seventeen miles in length, by about the same in breadth; but so cut up by deep bays, inlets, and fords as to have much the appearance of a group of islands.During their passage across the channel both Trench and Paul attempted to reason with Swinton, but that hardened villain refused to utter a word till their prisoners were marched up the shingly beach, and told to sit down on a ledge of rock under the steep cliffs, where innumerable sea-birds were screaming a clamorous welcome, or, perchance, a noisy remonstrance.“Now, my friends,” said their foe, “as you are fond of commanding, you may take command o’ them there sea-birds—they won’t object!—and if ye fall in wi’ your friends the savages, you may give them my love an’ good wishes.”“But surely you don’t mean to leave us here without food, and with our hands tied behind us?” fiercely exclaimed Master Trench, whose wrath at any thing like injustice was always prone to get the better of his wisdom.“As to grub,” answered Swinton, “there’s plenty of that around, if you only exert yourself to find it. I won’t cut your lashin’s, however, till we are fairly in the boat, for we can’t trust you. Come along, lads; and, Garnet, you bring the boy with ye.”Under the impression that he was to be separated from his father and friend, and taken back again to the islet, poor Oliver, whom they had not thought it worth while to bind, struggled with a ferocity that would have done credit to the wildcats with which he had been compared; but Garnet was a strong man, and held him fast.“Take it easy, my boy,” said Paul, who, being helpless, could only look on with intense pity. “Submit to God’s will—we will pray for you.”But Olly’s spirit could by no means reach the submitting point until he was fairly exhausted. While they dragged him towards the boat, Taylor turned back and flung a small canvas bag at the captain’s feet.“There, Master Trench,” he said, “you’ll find a lump o’ pork in that bag to keep you goin’ till ye get hold o’ somethin’ else. An’ don’t take on about the boy.Wedon’t want ’im, bless you. Why, we only want to prevent him settin’ you free before we gets fairly away.”This was true. When the boat was reached and the men were on board, ready to shove off, Garnet, still holding Olly fast by the arm, said, “Keep still, will you, and hear what Master Swinton has got to say?”“Now, you fiery polecat,” said Swinton, “you may go and cut their lashin’s, and takethatas a parting gift.”The gift was a sounding box on the ear; but Olly minded it not, for while Garnet was speaking, as he stood knee-deep in the water close to the boat, he had observed an axe lying on one of the thwarts near to him. The instant he was set free, therefore, he seized the axe, and, flourishing it close past Garnet’s nose, with a cheer of defiance he sprang towards the beach. Garnet leaped after him, but he was no match for the agile boy, who in another minute had severed Paul’s bonds and placed the weapon in his hands.“Hallo! hi, you’ve forgotme. Cut my—ho!”But there was no occasion for Master Trench to cry out and struggle with the cords that bound him. A furious rush of Paul with the axe caused Garnet to double with the neatness of a hunted hare. He bounded into the boat which was immediately shoved off, and the sailors rowed away, leaving Paul to return and liberate the captain at leisure.Silently the trio stood and watched the receding boat, until it was lost in the darkness of the night. Then they looked at each other solemnly. Their case was certainly a grave one.“Cast away on an unknown shore,” murmured the captain, in a low tone; as if he communed with his own spirit rather than with his companions, “without food, without a ship or boat—without hope!”“Nay, Master Trench,” said Paul, “not without hope; for ‘God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble,’ so says His own Word, as my mother has often read to me.”“It is well for you, Paul,” returned the captain, “that you can find comfort in such words—I can find none. Stern realities and facts are too strong for me. How can I take comfort in unfulfilled promises? Here we are in trouble enough, surely. In what sense is God a ‘refuge’ to us—or ‘strength,’ or a ‘present help’? Why, we are left absolutely destitute here, without so much as a bite of food to keep our bodies and souls together.”He spoke with some bitterness, for he was still chafing under the sense of the wrong which he had suffered at the hands of men to whom he had been invariably kind and forbearing. As he turned from Paul with a gesture of impatience his foot struck against the canvas bag of pork which the man Taylor had flung to him on leaving, and which had been forgotten. He stopped suddenly and gazed at it; so did Paul.“Looks like as if God had already helped us—at least to food—does it not?” said the latter.“It was Taylor helped us to that,” objected Trench.“And who put it into Taylor’s heart to help us?” asked Paul. “He is one of the worst men of our crew, so we can hardly say it was his own tenderness, and certainly it was not the devil who moved him to it. Am I wrong in holding that it was ‘Our Father’?”“I believe you are right, Paul. Anyhow, I have neither the capacity nor the inclination to dispute the point now. Pick up the bag, Olly, and come along. We must try to find some sort of shelter in which to spend the rest o’ the night and consider our future plans.”With a lighter heart and firmer faith, Paul Burns followed his leader, silently thanking God as he went along for thus far, and so opportunely, demonstrating His own faithfulness.They had to wander some time before a suitable camping spot was found, for that part of the Newfoundland coast on which they had been landed was almost inaccessible. The cliffs in many places rose sheer out of the water to a height of full three hundred feet. Only in a few places little strips of shingly beach lay between the base of the cliffs and the sea, so that the finding of an opening in those stupendous ramparts of rock was no easy matter in a dark night.At last they came to a place where the cliffs appeared to rise less precipitously. After careful clambering for some minutes they discovered a sort of gap in the rampart, up which they climbed, amid rugged and broken masses, until they reached a somewhat level plateau, or shelf, covered with small bushes. Here they resolved to encamp.“Whether it’s the top o’ the cliffs or not, there’s no findin’ out,” remarked Trench, as he tried to survey the ground; “but whether or not don’t matter, for it looks level enough to lie on, an’ we’re as like as not to break our necks if we try to go further.”“Agreed,” said Paul; “but now it occurs to me that our pork may be raw, and that we shall want fire to cook it. Have you got flint and steel in your pocket, Master Trench?”“Ay—never travel without it; but by ill-luck I’ve got no tinder. Flint and steel are useless, you know, without that.”“If ill-luck troublesyou,” returned Paul, “good luck favoursme, for I have got a bit of tinder, and—”“The pork’s raw,” exclaimed Oliver, who had been hastily investigating the contents of the canvas bag; “but, I say, there’s more than pork here. There’s a lot o’ the little flour-cakes our cook was so fond of makin’.”“Good. Now then let us have a search for wood,” said Paul. “If we find that, we shall get along well enough till morning. But have a care, Olly, keep from the edge of the cliff. The ledge is not broad. Have an eye too, or rather an ear, for water as you go along.”Success attended their search, for in a few minutes Paul and the captain returned with loads of dry branches, and Olly came back reporting water close at hand, trickling from a crevice in the cliffs.“Your shirt-front tells the tale, Olly. You’ve been drinking,” said Paul, who was busy striking a light at the time.“Indeed I have; and we shall all be obliged to drink under difficulties, for we have neither cup nor mug with us.”“Neither is wanted, boy, as I’ll soon show you,” said Paul. “Why, a bit of birch-bark, even a piece of paper, forms a good drinking vessel if you only know how to use it. Ha! caught at last,” he added, referring to some dry grasses and twigs which burst into flame as he spoke.Another moment and a ruddy glare lit up the spot, giving to things near at hand a cosy, red-hot appearance, and to more distant objects a spectral aspect, while, strangely enough, it seemed to deepen to profounder darkness all else around. Heaping on fresh fuel and pressing it down, for it consisted chiefly of small branches, they soon had a glowing furnace, in front of which the pork ere long sputtered pleasantly, sending up a smell that might have charmed a gourmand.“Now, then, while this is getting ready let us examine our possessions,” said the captain, “for we shall greatly need all that we have. It is quite clear that we could not return to our shipmates even if we would—”“No, and I would not even if I could,” interrupted Oliver, while busy with the pork chops.“And,” continued his father, regardless of the interruption, “it is equally clear that we shall have to earn our own livelihood somehow.”Upon careful examination it was found that their entire possessions consisted of two large clasp-knives; a sheath hunting-knife; flint, steel, and tinder; the captain’s watch; a small axe; a large note-book, belonging to Paul; three pencils; bit of indiarubber; several fish-hooks; a long piece of twine, and three brass buttons, the property of Oliver, besides the manuscript Gospel of John, and Olly’s treasured letter from his mother. These articles, with the garments in which they stood, constituted the small fortune of our wanderers, and it became a matter of profound speculation, during the progress of the supper, as to whether it was possible to exist in an unknown wilderness on such very slender means.Olly thought it was—as a matter of course.Master Trench doubted, and shook his head with an air of much sagacity, a method of expressing an opinion which is eminently unassailable. Paul Burns condescended on reasons for his belief—which, like Olly’s, was favourable.“You see,” he said, wiping his uncommonly greasy fingers on the grass, “we have enough of pork and cakes here for several days—on short allowance. Then it is likely that we shall find some wild fruits, and manage to kill something or other with stones, and it cannot be long till we fall in with natives, who will be sure to be friendly—if not, we will make them so—and wheretheycan live,wecan live. So I am going to turn in and dream about it. Luckily the weather is warm. Good-night.”Thus did our three adventurers, turning in on that giddy ledge, spend their first night in Newfoundland.

It was a calm but very dark night when Swinton, Blazer, Garnet, Heron, Taylor, and several other men of kindred spirit, rose from their couches at the further end of the island, and, stealthily quitting the place, hastened back to their original camp.

They reached it about midnight, and, as they had expected, found all quiet, for the so-called “guard” of the camp had been hard at work all day and were at that moment fast asleep. Paul and the captain, with Oliver, lay side by side under a tent which they had constructed out of broken spars and a piece of sailcloth.

Their foes drew together not far from the spot.

“Now, men,” said Swinton, “this is a tough job we have in hand, for they are strong men, and the boy, albeit not big, is a very tiger-cat to fight. You see, if our plan was murder we could easily settle their business while they slept but that’s not our plan. We arenotmurderers—by no means!”

“Certainly not,” growled Blazer, with virtuous solemnity.

“Well, that bein’ so, we must take them alive. I will creep into the tent with you, Jim Heron, for you’re big and strong enough. You will fall on Trench and hold ’im down. I’ll do the same to Burns. Garnet will manage the boy. The moment the rest of you hear the row begin, you will jump in and lend a hand wi’ the ropes. After we’ve got ’em all safe into the boat, we will pull to the big island—land them there, an’ bid them a tender farewell!”

“But surely you won’t land them without a morsel to eat?” said Taylor.

“Why not? They’re sure to fall in wi’ theirdearfriends the savages, who will, doubtless, be very grateful to ’em, an’ supply grub gratis! Now, lads, you understand what you’ve got to do?”

“Ay, ay,” was the response, in a low tone, as they moved cautiously away, like evil spirits, to carry out their wicked plans.

“Fortune,” it is said, “favours the brave,” but in this case she did not thus bestow her favours, for the cowardly plan was successfully carried out. Before the sleepers were well awake, they were overwhelmed by numbers, secured and bound. They were not gagged, however, as no one was near to hear even if they shouted their loudest, which they knew it was useless to do. In a few minutes the three prisoners were hurried into the boat and rowed across the wide channel that separated the islet from the opposite shore.

At that time it was not supposed, either by the original discoverers or those who immediately followed them, that Newfoundland was one large island—considerably larger than Ireland. Not till many a year afterwards did explorers ascertain that it was an island of about three hundred and seventeen miles in length, by about the same in breadth; but so cut up by deep bays, inlets, and fords as to have much the appearance of a group of islands.

During their passage across the channel both Trench and Paul attempted to reason with Swinton, but that hardened villain refused to utter a word till their prisoners were marched up the shingly beach, and told to sit down on a ledge of rock under the steep cliffs, where innumerable sea-birds were screaming a clamorous welcome, or, perchance, a noisy remonstrance.

“Now, my friends,” said their foe, “as you are fond of commanding, you may take command o’ them there sea-birds—they won’t object!—and if ye fall in wi’ your friends the savages, you may give them my love an’ good wishes.”

“But surely you don’t mean to leave us here without food, and with our hands tied behind us?” fiercely exclaimed Master Trench, whose wrath at any thing like injustice was always prone to get the better of his wisdom.

“As to grub,” answered Swinton, “there’s plenty of that around, if you only exert yourself to find it. I won’t cut your lashin’s, however, till we are fairly in the boat, for we can’t trust you. Come along, lads; and, Garnet, you bring the boy with ye.”

Under the impression that he was to be separated from his father and friend, and taken back again to the islet, poor Oliver, whom they had not thought it worth while to bind, struggled with a ferocity that would have done credit to the wildcats with which he had been compared; but Garnet was a strong man, and held him fast.

“Take it easy, my boy,” said Paul, who, being helpless, could only look on with intense pity. “Submit to God’s will—we will pray for you.”

But Olly’s spirit could by no means reach the submitting point until he was fairly exhausted. While they dragged him towards the boat, Taylor turned back and flung a small canvas bag at the captain’s feet.

“There, Master Trench,” he said, “you’ll find a lump o’ pork in that bag to keep you goin’ till ye get hold o’ somethin’ else. An’ don’t take on about the boy.Wedon’t want ’im, bless you. Why, we only want to prevent him settin’ you free before we gets fairly away.”

This was true. When the boat was reached and the men were on board, ready to shove off, Garnet, still holding Olly fast by the arm, said, “Keep still, will you, and hear what Master Swinton has got to say?”

“Now, you fiery polecat,” said Swinton, “you may go and cut their lashin’s, and takethatas a parting gift.”

The gift was a sounding box on the ear; but Olly minded it not, for while Garnet was speaking, as he stood knee-deep in the water close to the boat, he had observed an axe lying on one of the thwarts near to him. The instant he was set free, therefore, he seized the axe, and, flourishing it close past Garnet’s nose, with a cheer of defiance he sprang towards the beach. Garnet leaped after him, but he was no match for the agile boy, who in another minute had severed Paul’s bonds and placed the weapon in his hands.

“Hallo! hi, you’ve forgotme. Cut my—ho!”

But there was no occasion for Master Trench to cry out and struggle with the cords that bound him. A furious rush of Paul with the axe caused Garnet to double with the neatness of a hunted hare. He bounded into the boat which was immediately shoved off, and the sailors rowed away, leaving Paul to return and liberate the captain at leisure.

Silently the trio stood and watched the receding boat, until it was lost in the darkness of the night. Then they looked at each other solemnly. Their case was certainly a grave one.

“Cast away on an unknown shore,” murmured the captain, in a low tone; as if he communed with his own spirit rather than with his companions, “without food, without a ship or boat—without hope!”

“Nay, Master Trench,” said Paul, “not without hope; for ‘God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble,’ so says His own Word, as my mother has often read to me.”

“It is well for you, Paul,” returned the captain, “that you can find comfort in such words—I can find none. Stern realities and facts are too strong for me. How can I take comfort in unfulfilled promises? Here we are in trouble enough, surely. In what sense is God a ‘refuge’ to us—or ‘strength,’ or a ‘present help’? Why, we are left absolutely destitute here, without so much as a bite of food to keep our bodies and souls together.”

He spoke with some bitterness, for he was still chafing under the sense of the wrong which he had suffered at the hands of men to whom he had been invariably kind and forbearing. As he turned from Paul with a gesture of impatience his foot struck against the canvas bag of pork which the man Taylor had flung to him on leaving, and which had been forgotten. He stopped suddenly and gazed at it; so did Paul.

“Looks like as if God had already helped us—at least to food—does it not?” said the latter.

“It was Taylor helped us to that,” objected Trench.

“And who put it into Taylor’s heart to help us?” asked Paul. “He is one of the worst men of our crew, so we can hardly say it was his own tenderness, and certainly it was not the devil who moved him to it. Am I wrong in holding that it was ‘Our Father’?”

“I believe you are right, Paul. Anyhow, I have neither the capacity nor the inclination to dispute the point now. Pick up the bag, Olly, and come along. We must try to find some sort of shelter in which to spend the rest o’ the night and consider our future plans.”

With a lighter heart and firmer faith, Paul Burns followed his leader, silently thanking God as he went along for thus far, and so opportunely, demonstrating His own faithfulness.

They had to wander some time before a suitable camping spot was found, for that part of the Newfoundland coast on which they had been landed was almost inaccessible. The cliffs in many places rose sheer out of the water to a height of full three hundred feet. Only in a few places little strips of shingly beach lay between the base of the cliffs and the sea, so that the finding of an opening in those stupendous ramparts of rock was no easy matter in a dark night.

At last they came to a place where the cliffs appeared to rise less precipitously. After careful clambering for some minutes they discovered a sort of gap in the rampart, up which they climbed, amid rugged and broken masses, until they reached a somewhat level plateau, or shelf, covered with small bushes. Here they resolved to encamp.

“Whether it’s the top o’ the cliffs or not, there’s no findin’ out,” remarked Trench, as he tried to survey the ground; “but whether or not don’t matter, for it looks level enough to lie on, an’ we’re as like as not to break our necks if we try to go further.”

“Agreed,” said Paul; “but now it occurs to me that our pork may be raw, and that we shall want fire to cook it. Have you got flint and steel in your pocket, Master Trench?”

“Ay—never travel without it; but by ill-luck I’ve got no tinder. Flint and steel are useless, you know, without that.”

“If ill-luck troublesyou,” returned Paul, “good luck favoursme, for I have got a bit of tinder, and—”

“The pork’s raw,” exclaimed Oliver, who had been hastily investigating the contents of the canvas bag; “but, I say, there’s more than pork here. There’s a lot o’ the little flour-cakes our cook was so fond of makin’.”

“Good. Now then let us have a search for wood,” said Paul. “If we find that, we shall get along well enough till morning. But have a care, Olly, keep from the edge of the cliff. The ledge is not broad. Have an eye too, or rather an ear, for water as you go along.”

Success attended their search, for in a few minutes Paul and the captain returned with loads of dry branches, and Olly came back reporting water close at hand, trickling from a crevice in the cliffs.

“Your shirt-front tells the tale, Olly. You’ve been drinking,” said Paul, who was busy striking a light at the time.

“Indeed I have; and we shall all be obliged to drink under difficulties, for we have neither cup nor mug with us.”

“Neither is wanted, boy, as I’ll soon show you,” said Paul. “Why, a bit of birch-bark, even a piece of paper, forms a good drinking vessel if you only know how to use it. Ha! caught at last,” he added, referring to some dry grasses and twigs which burst into flame as he spoke.

Another moment and a ruddy glare lit up the spot, giving to things near at hand a cosy, red-hot appearance, and to more distant objects a spectral aspect, while, strangely enough, it seemed to deepen to profounder darkness all else around. Heaping on fresh fuel and pressing it down, for it consisted chiefly of small branches, they soon had a glowing furnace, in front of which the pork ere long sputtered pleasantly, sending up a smell that might have charmed a gourmand.

“Now, then, while this is getting ready let us examine our possessions,” said the captain, “for we shall greatly need all that we have. It is quite clear that we could not return to our shipmates even if we would—”

“No, and I would not even if I could,” interrupted Oliver, while busy with the pork chops.

“And,” continued his father, regardless of the interruption, “it is equally clear that we shall have to earn our own livelihood somehow.”

Upon careful examination it was found that their entire possessions consisted of two large clasp-knives; a sheath hunting-knife; flint, steel, and tinder; the captain’s watch; a small axe; a large note-book, belonging to Paul; three pencils; bit of indiarubber; several fish-hooks; a long piece of twine, and three brass buttons, the property of Oliver, besides the manuscript Gospel of John, and Olly’s treasured letter from his mother. These articles, with the garments in which they stood, constituted the small fortune of our wanderers, and it became a matter of profound speculation, during the progress of the supper, as to whether it was possible to exist in an unknown wilderness on such very slender means.

Olly thought it was—as a matter of course.

Master Trench doubted, and shook his head with an air of much sagacity, a method of expressing an opinion which is eminently unassailable. Paul Burns condescended on reasons for his belief—which, like Olly’s, was favourable.

“You see,” he said, wiping his uncommonly greasy fingers on the grass, “we have enough of pork and cakes here for several days—on short allowance. Then it is likely that we shall find some wild fruits, and manage to kill something or other with stones, and it cannot be long till we fall in with natives, who will be sure to be friendly—if not, we will make them so—and wheretheycan live,wecan live. So I am going to turn in and dream about it. Luckily the weather is warm. Good-night.”

Thus did our three adventurers, turning in on that giddy ledge, spend their first night in Newfoundland.

Chapter Six.Difficulties met and Overcome.The position in which the trio found themselves next morning, when daylight revealed it, was, we might almost say, tremendously romantic.The ledge on which they had passed the night was much narrower than they had supposed it to be, and their beds, if we may so call them, had been dangerously near to the edge of a frightful precipice which descended sheer down to a strip of sand that looked like a yellow thread two hundred feet below. The cliff behind them rose almost perpendicularly another hundred feet or more, and the narrow path or gully by which they had gained their eyrie was so steep and rugged that their reaching the spot at all in safety seemed little short of a miracle. The sun was brightening with its first beams an absolutely tranquil sea when the sleepers opened their eyes, and beheld what seemed to them a great universe of liquid light. Their ears at the same time drank in the soft sound of murmuring ripples far below, and the occasional cry of sportive sea-birds.“Grand! glorious!” exclaimed Trench, as he sat up and gazed with enthusiasm on the scene.Paul did not speak. His thoughts were too deep for utterance, but his mind reverted irresistibly to some of the verses in that manuscript Gospel which he carried so carefully in his bosom.As for Oliver, his flushed young face and glittering eyes told their own tale. At first he felt inclined to shout for joy, but his feelings choked him; so he, too, remained speechless. The silence was broken at last by a commonplace remark from Paul, as he pointed to the horizon—“The home of our shipmates is further off than I thought it was.”“The rascals!” exclaimed the captain, thinking of the shipmates, not of the home; “the place is too good for ’em.”“But all of them are not equally bad,” suggested Paul gently.“Humph!” replied Trench, for kind and good-natured though he was he always found it difficult to restrain his indignation at anything that savoured of injustice. In occasionally giving way to this temper, he failed to perceive at first that he was himself sometimes guilty of injustice. It is only fair to add, however, that in his cooler moments our captain freely condemned himself.“‘Humph!’ is a very expressive word,” observed Paul, “and in some sense satisfactory to those who utter it, but it is ambiguous. Do you mean to deny, Master Trench, that some of your late crew were very good fellows? and don’t you admit that Little Stubbs and Squill and Grummidge were first-rate specimens of—”“I don’t admit or deny anything!” said the captain, rising, with a light laugh, “and I have no intention of engaging in a controversy with you before breakfast. Come, Olly, blow up the fire, and go to work with your pork and cakes. I’ll fetch some more wood, and Paul will help me, no doubt.”With a good grace Paul dropped the discussion and went to work. In a few minutes breakfast was not only ready, but consumed; for a certain measure of anxiety as to the probability of there being an available path to the top of the cliffs tended to hasten their proceedings.The question was soon settled, for after ascending a few yards above their encampment they found an indentation or crevice in the cliff which led into an open spot—a sort of broader shelf—which sloped upwards, and finally conducted them to the summit.Here, to their surprise, they discovered that their new home, instead of being, as they had supposed it, one of a series of large islands, was in truth a territory of vast, apparently boundless, extent, covered with dense forests. Far as the eye could reach, interminable woods presented themselves, merging, in the far distance, into what appeared to be a range of low hills.“Newfoundland is bigger than we have been led to believe,” said Paul Burns, surveying the prospect with great satisfaction.“Ay is it,” responded Trench. “The fact is that discoverers of new lands, bein’ naturally in ships, have not much chance to go far inland. In a country like this, with such a wild seaboard, it’s no wonder they have made mistakes. We will find out the truth about it now, however, for we’ll undertake a land voyage of discovery.”“What! without arms or provisions, father?” asked Oliver.“What d’ye call the two things dangling from your shoulders, boy?” returned the captain, with some severity; “are these not ‘arms’? and have not woods—generally got lakes in ’em and rivers which usually swarm with provisions?”“That’s so, father,” returned the lad, somewhat abashed; “but I did not raise the question as a difficulty, only I’ve heard you sometimes say that a ship is not fit for sea till she is well-armed and provisioned, so I thought that it might be the same with land expeditions.”Before the skipper could reply, Paul drew attention to an opening in the woods not far from them, where an animal of some kind was seen to emerge into an open space, gaze for a moment around it, and then trot quietly away.“Some of our provisions—uncooked as yet,” remarked Oliver.“More of them,” returned his father, pointing to a covey of birds resembling grouse, which flashed past them at the moment on whirring wings. “How we are to get hold of ’em, however, remains, of course, to be seen.”“There are many ways of getting hold of them, and with some of these I am familiar,” said Paul. “For instance, I can use the long-bow with some skill—at least I could do so when at school. And I have no doubt, captain, that you know how to use the cross-bow?”“That I do,” returned Trench, with a broad grin.“I was noted at school as bein’ out o’ sight the worst shot in the neighbourhood where I lived. Indeed, I’ve bin known to miss a barn-door at twenty yards!”“Well, well, you must learn to shoot, that’s all,” said Paul, “and you may, perchance, turn out better with the sling. That weapon did great execution, as no doubt you know, in the hands of King David.”“But where are we to get long-bows and cross-bows and slings?” asked Oliver eagerly.“Why, Olly, my boy, excitement seems to have confused your brain, or the air of Newfoundland disagrees with you,” said Paul. “We shall make them, of course. But come,” he added, in a more serious tone, “we have reached a point—I may say a crisis—in our lives, for we must now decide definitely what we shall do, and I pray God to direct us so that we may do only that which is right and wise. Are you prepared, captain, to give up all hope of returning to our shipmates?”“Of course I am,” returned Trench firmly, while a slight frown gathered on his brow. “The few who are on our side could not make the rest friendly. They may now fight it out amongst themselves as best they can, for all that I care. We did not forsakethem. They sentusaway. Besides, we could not return, if we wished it ever so much. No; a grand new country has been opened up to us, and I mean to have a cruise of exploration. What sayyou, Olly?”“I’m with ’ee, father!” answered the boy, with a nod of the head that was even more emphatic than the tone of his voice.With a laugh at Oliver’s enthusiasm, Paul declared himself to be of much the same mind, and added that, as they had no boxes to pack or friends to bid farewell to, they should commence the journey there and then.“I don’t agree with that,” said the captain.“Why not, Master Trench?”“Because we have not yet made our weapons, and it may be that we shall have some good chances of getting supplies at the very beginning of our travels. My opinion is that we should arm ourselves before starting, for the pork and cakes cannot last long.”This being at once recognised as sound advice, they entered the forest, which was not so thick at that place as it at first appeared to be. They went just far enough to enable them to obtain a species of hardwood, which the experienced eye of Paul Burns told them was suitable for bow-making. Here they pitched their camp. Paul took the axe and cut down several small trees; the captain gathered firewood, and Oliver set about the fabrication of a hut or booth, with poles, bark, turf, and leaves, which was to shelter them from rain if it shouldfall, though there was little chance of that, the weather being fine and settled at the time.The work which they had undertaken was by no means as easy as they had anticipated. Paul had indeed made bows and arrows in former years, but then all the materials had been furnished “in the rough” to his hands, whereas he had now not only to select the tree best adapted to his purpose, but had to choose the best part of it, and to reduce that portion from a massive trunk to suitably slender proportions. It was much the same with the arrows and cross-bow bolts. However, there was resolution and perseverance in each member of the party far more than sufficient to overcome such little difficulties; only, as we have said, they were slower about it than had been expected, and the work was far from completed when the descent of night obliged them to seek repose.“Not a bad little bower,” remarked Paul, as they sat down to supper in the primitive edifice which Oliver had erected.The said bower was about four feet high, eight wide, and five deep, of irregular form, with three sides and a roof; walls and roof being of the same material—branchy, leafy, and turfy. The fourth side was an open space in which the inhabitants sat, facing the fire. The latter, being large enough to roast a sheep whole, was built outside.“Why, Olly, you’re a selfish fellow,” said the captain, during a pause in the meal; “you’ve thought only of yourself in building this bower. Just look at Paul’s feet. They are sticking out ten or twelve inches beyond our shelter!”“That comes of his being so tall, daddy. But it does not matter much. If it should come on to rain he can draw his feet inside; there’s room enough to double up. Don’t you think so, Paul?”But Paul replied not, save by a gentle snore, for he was a healthy man, and child-like in many respects, especially in the matter of going off to the land of Nod the moment his head touched his pillow. Possibly the fresh air, the excitement, the energy with which he had wrought, and the relish with which he had supped, intensified this tendency on the present occasion. Oliver very soon followed his friend’s example, and so Captain Trench was left to meditate beside the fire. He gazed into its glowing embers, or sometimes glanced beyond it towards an open space where a tiny rivulet glittered in the moonlight, and a little cascade sent its purling music into the still air.Ere long he passed from the meditative to the blinking stage. Then he turned his eyes on the sleepers, smiled meekly once or twice and nodded to them—quite inadvertently! After that he stretched his bulky frame beside them, and resigned himself to repose.Now, it is probable that we should have had nothing more to record in reference to that first night in Newfoundland if Captain Trench had been in the habit of taking his rest like ordinary mortals, but such was not his habit. He bounced in his sleep! Why he did so no one could ever find out. He himself denied the “soft impeachment,” and, in his waking moments, was wont to express disbelief as well as profound ignorance in regard to the subject. Several broken beds, however, had, in the course of his career, testified against him; but, like the man who blamed “the salmon,” not “the whisky,” for his headaches, Trench blamed “the beds,” not “the bouncing,” for his misfortunes.One might have counted him safe with the solid earth of Newfoundland for his bed, but danger often lurks where least expected. Oliver Trench was not an architect either by nature or training. His bower had been erected on several false principles. The bouncing of a big man inside was too much for its infirm constitution. Its weak points were discovered by the captain. A bounce into one of its salient supports proved fatal, and the structure finally collapsed, burying its family in a compost of earth and herbage.With a roar that would have done credit to a native walrus, the captain struggled to free himself, under the impression that a band of savages had attacked them. All three quickly threw off the comparatively light material that covered them, and stood in warlike attitudes for a few seconds, glancing around for foes who did not exist! Then the roar of alarm was transformed into shouts of laughter, but these were quickly checked by a real foe who crept up insidiously and leaped on them unexpectedly. The half-extinguished fire, having been replenished by the falling structure—much of which was dry and inflammable—caught on the roof and flashed down into the interior.“Save the pork, lad!” shouted the captain, as he sprang out of the kindling mass.“Ay, ay, father,” replied the son.Paul meanwhile grasped the half-finished bows and arrows in his arms, and thus their little all was rescued from the flames. Of course, the bower was utterly consumed, but that caused them little grief. Having extinguished the flames, they all lay down to finish off the night under a neighbouring tree, and even its architect became so oblivious of what had occurred that he employed the remainder of his slumbering hours in dreaming of the home in old England, and of that dear mother whose last letter was still carefully guarded in the pocket of the coat that covered his ardent little bosom.

The position in which the trio found themselves next morning, when daylight revealed it, was, we might almost say, tremendously romantic.

The ledge on which they had passed the night was much narrower than they had supposed it to be, and their beds, if we may so call them, had been dangerously near to the edge of a frightful precipice which descended sheer down to a strip of sand that looked like a yellow thread two hundred feet below. The cliff behind them rose almost perpendicularly another hundred feet or more, and the narrow path or gully by which they had gained their eyrie was so steep and rugged that their reaching the spot at all in safety seemed little short of a miracle. The sun was brightening with its first beams an absolutely tranquil sea when the sleepers opened their eyes, and beheld what seemed to them a great universe of liquid light. Their ears at the same time drank in the soft sound of murmuring ripples far below, and the occasional cry of sportive sea-birds.

“Grand! glorious!” exclaimed Trench, as he sat up and gazed with enthusiasm on the scene.

Paul did not speak. His thoughts were too deep for utterance, but his mind reverted irresistibly to some of the verses in that manuscript Gospel which he carried so carefully in his bosom.

As for Oliver, his flushed young face and glittering eyes told their own tale. At first he felt inclined to shout for joy, but his feelings choked him; so he, too, remained speechless. The silence was broken at last by a commonplace remark from Paul, as he pointed to the horizon—“The home of our shipmates is further off than I thought it was.”

“The rascals!” exclaimed the captain, thinking of the shipmates, not of the home; “the place is too good for ’em.”

“But all of them are not equally bad,” suggested Paul gently.

“Humph!” replied Trench, for kind and good-natured though he was he always found it difficult to restrain his indignation at anything that savoured of injustice. In occasionally giving way to this temper, he failed to perceive at first that he was himself sometimes guilty of injustice. It is only fair to add, however, that in his cooler moments our captain freely condemned himself.

“‘Humph!’ is a very expressive word,” observed Paul, “and in some sense satisfactory to those who utter it, but it is ambiguous. Do you mean to deny, Master Trench, that some of your late crew were very good fellows? and don’t you admit that Little Stubbs and Squill and Grummidge were first-rate specimens of—”

“I don’t admit or deny anything!” said the captain, rising, with a light laugh, “and I have no intention of engaging in a controversy with you before breakfast. Come, Olly, blow up the fire, and go to work with your pork and cakes. I’ll fetch some more wood, and Paul will help me, no doubt.”

With a good grace Paul dropped the discussion and went to work. In a few minutes breakfast was not only ready, but consumed; for a certain measure of anxiety as to the probability of there being an available path to the top of the cliffs tended to hasten their proceedings.

The question was soon settled, for after ascending a few yards above their encampment they found an indentation or crevice in the cliff which led into an open spot—a sort of broader shelf—which sloped upwards, and finally conducted them to the summit.

Here, to their surprise, they discovered that their new home, instead of being, as they had supposed it, one of a series of large islands, was in truth a territory of vast, apparently boundless, extent, covered with dense forests. Far as the eye could reach, interminable woods presented themselves, merging, in the far distance, into what appeared to be a range of low hills.

“Newfoundland is bigger than we have been led to believe,” said Paul Burns, surveying the prospect with great satisfaction.

“Ay is it,” responded Trench. “The fact is that discoverers of new lands, bein’ naturally in ships, have not much chance to go far inland. In a country like this, with such a wild seaboard, it’s no wonder they have made mistakes. We will find out the truth about it now, however, for we’ll undertake a land voyage of discovery.”

“What! without arms or provisions, father?” asked Oliver.

“What d’ye call the two things dangling from your shoulders, boy?” returned the captain, with some severity; “are these not ‘arms’? and have not woods—generally got lakes in ’em and rivers which usually swarm with provisions?”

“That’s so, father,” returned the lad, somewhat abashed; “but I did not raise the question as a difficulty, only I’ve heard you sometimes say that a ship is not fit for sea till she is well-armed and provisioned, so I thought that it might be the same with land expeditions.”

Before the skipper could reply, Paul drew attention to an opening in the woods not far from them, where an animal of some kind was seen to emerge into an open space, gaze for a moment around it, and then trot quietly away.

“Some of our provisions—uncooked as yet,” remarked Oliver.

“More of them,” returned his father, pointing to a covey of birds resembling grouse, which flashed past them at the moment on whirring wings. “How we are to get hold of ’em, however, remains, of course, to be seen.”

“There are many ways of getting hold of them, and with some of these I am familiar,” said Paul. “For instance, I can use the long-bow with some skill—at least I could do so when at school. And I have no doubt, captain, that you know how to use the cross-bow?”

“That I do,” returned Trench, with a broad grin.

“I was noted at school as bein’ out o’ sight the worst shot in the neighbourhood where I lived. Indeed, I’ve bin known to miss a barn-door at twenty yards!”

“Well, well, you must learn to shoot, that’s all,” said Paul, “and you may, perchance, turn out better with the sling. That weapon did great execution, as no doubt you know, in the hands of King David.”

“But where are we to get long-bows and cross-bows and slings?” asked Oliver eagerly.

“Why, Olly, my boy, excitement seems to have confused your brain, or the air of Newfoundland disagrees with you,” said Paul. “We shall make them, of course. But come,” he added, in a more serious tone, “we have reached a point—I may say a crisis—in our lives, for we must now decide definitely what we shall do, and I pray God to direct us so that we may do only that which is right and wise. Are you prepared, captain, to give up all hope of returning to our shipmates?”

“Of course I am,” returned Trench firmly, while a slight frown gathered on his brow. “The few who are on our side could not make the rest friendly. They may now fight it out amongst themselves as best they can, for all that I care. We did not forsakethem. They sentusaway. Besides, we could not return, if we wished it ever so much. No; a grand new country has been opened up to us, and I mean to have a cruise of exploration. What sayyou, Olly?”

“I’m with ’ee, father!” answered the boy, with a nod of the head that was even more emphatic than the tone of his voice.

With a laugh at Oliver’s enthusiasm, Paul declared himself to be of much the same mind, and added that, as they had no boxes to pack or friends to bid farewell to, they should commence the journey there and then.

“I don’t agree with that,” said the captain.

“Why not, Master Trench?”

“Because we have not yet made our weapons, and it may be that we shall have some good chances of getting supplies at the very beginning of our travels. My opinion is that we should arm ourselves before starting, for the pork and cakes cannot last long.”

This being at once recognised as sound advice, they entered the forest, which was not so thick at that place as it at first appeared to be. They went just far enough to enable them to obtain a species of hardwood, which the experienced eye of Paul Burns told them was suitable for bow-making. Here they pitched their camp. Paul took the axe and cut down several small trees; the captain gathered firewood, and Oliver set about the fabrication of a hut or booth, with poles, bark, turf, and leaves, which was to shelter them from rain if it shouldfall, though there was little chance of that, the weather being fine and settled at the time.

The work which they had undertaken was by no means as easy as they had anticipated. Paul had indeed made bows and arrows in former years, but then all the materials had been furnished “in the rough” to his hands, whereas he had now not only to select the tree best adapted to his purpose, but had to choose the best part of it, and to reduce that portion from a massive trunk to suitably slender proportions. It was much the same with the arrows and cross-bow bolts. However, there was resolution and perseverance in each member of the party far more than sufficient to overcome such little difficulties; only, as we have said, they were slower about it than had been expected, and the work was far from completed when the descent of night obliged them to seek repose.

“Not a bad little bower,” remarked Paul, as they sat down to supper in the primitive edifice which Oliver had erected.

The said bower was about four feet high, eight wide, and five deep, of irregular form, with three sides and a roof; walls and roof being of the same material—branchy, leafy, and turfy. The fourth side was an open space in which the inhabitants sat, facing the fire. The latter, being large enough to roast a sheep whole, was built outside.

“Why, Olly, you’re a selfish fellow,” said the captain, during a pause in the meal; “you’ve thought only of yourself in building this bower. Just look at Paul’s feet. They are sticking out ten or twelve inches beyond our shelter!”

“That comes of his being so tall, daddy. But it does not matter much. If it should come on to rain he can draw his feet inside; there’s room enough to double up. Don’t you think so, Paul?”

But Paul replied not, save by a gentle snore, for he was a healthy man, and child-like in many respects, especially in the matter of going off to the land of Nod the moment his head touched his pillow. Possibly the fresh air, the excitement, the energy with which he had wrought, and the relish with which he had supped, intensified this tendency on the present occasion. Oliver very soon followed his friend’s example, and so Captain Trench was left to meditate beside the fire. He gazed into its glowing embers, or sometimes glanced beyond it towards an open space where a tiny rivulet glittered in the moonlight, and a little cascade sent its purling music into the still air.

Ere long he passed from the meditative to the blinking stage. Then he turned his eyes on the sleepers, smiled meekly once or twice and nodded to them—quite inadvertently! After that he stretched his bulky frame beside them, and resigned himself to repose.

Now, it is probable that we should have had nothing more to record in reference to that first night in Newfoundland if Captain Trench had been in the habit of taking his rest like ordinary mortals, but such was not his habit. He bounced in his sleep! Why he did so no one could ever find out. He himself denied the “soft impeachment,” and, in his waking moments, was wont to express disbelief as well as profound ignorance in regard to the subject. Several broken beds, however, had, in the course of his career, testified against him; but, like the man who blamed “the salmon,” not “the whisky,” for his headaches, Trench blamed “the beds,” not “the bouncing,” for his misfortunes.

One might have counted him safe with the solid earth of Newfoundland for his bed, but danger often lurks where least expected. Oliver Trench was not an architect either by nature or training. His bower had been erected on several false principles. The bouncing of a big man inside was too much for its infirm constitution. Its weak points were discovered by the captain. A bounce into one of its salient supports proved fatal, and the structure finally collapsed, burying its family in a compost of earth and herbage.

With a roar that would have done credit to a native walrus, the captain struggled to free himself, under the impression that a band of savages had attacked them. All three quickly threw off the comparatively light material that covered them, and stood in warlike attitudes for a few seconds, glancing around for foes who did not exist! Then the roar of alarm was transformed into shouts of laughter, but these were quickly checked by a real foe who crept up insidiously and leaped on them unexpectedly. The half-extinguished fire, having been replenished by the falling structure—much of which was dry and inflammable—caught on the roof and flashed down into the interior.

“Save the pork, lad!” shouted the captain, as he sprang out of the kindling mass.

“Ay, ay, father,” replied the son.

Paul meanwhile grasped the half-finished bows and arrows in his arms, and thus their little all was rescued from the flames. Of course, the bower was utterly consumed, but that caused them little grief. Having extinguished the flames, they all lay down to finish off the night under a neighbouring tree, and even its architect became so oblivious of what had occurred that he employed the remainder of his slumbering hours in dreaming of the home in old England, and of that dear mother whose last letter was still carefully guarded in the pocket of the coat that covered his ardent little bosom.

Chapter Seven.They Begin their Travels in Earnest.When their weapons were complete our three travellers started on their journey of exploration in the new-found land.Captain Trench armed himself with a strong, heavily-made cross-bow, and a birch-bark quiver full of bolts. Paul Burns carried a bow as long as himself, with a quiver full of the orthodox “cloth-yard shafts.” Oliver provided himself with a bow and arrows more suited to his size, and, being naturally sanguine, he had also made for himself a sling with the cord he chanced to possess and the leathern tongue of one of his shoes. He likewise carried a heavy bludgeon, somewhat like a policeman’s baton, which was slung at his side. Not content with this, he sought and obtained permission to carry the axe in his belt. Of course, none of the bolts or arrows had metal points; but that mattered little, as the wood of which they were made was very hard, and could be sharpened to a fine point; and, being feathered, the missiles flew straight to the mark when pointed in the right direction.“Now, captain,” said Paul, on the morning they set out, “let’s see what you can do with your cross-bow at the first bird you meet. I mean the first eatable bird; for I have no heart to kill the little twitterers around us for the mere sake of practice.”“That will I right gladly,” said Trench, fixing his bow and string, and inserting a bolt with a confident air.“And there’s a chance, daddy! See! a bird that seems to wish to be shot, it sits so quietly on the tree.”The seaman raised his weapon slowly to his shoulder, shut the wrong eye, glared at the bird with the other, took a long unsteady aim, and sent his bolt high over the creature’s head, as well as very much to one side.“Might have been worse!” said the captain.“Might have been better,” returned Paul, with equal truth. “Now it’s my turn.”The bird, all ignorant of the fate intended for it, sat still, apparently in surprise.Paul drew his cloth-yard shaft to his ear and let fly. It went apparently in search of the captain’s bolt.“Now me!” cried the impatient Olly, in a hoarse whisper, as he placed a stone in the sling and whirled it round his head. His companions drew off! There was a “burring” noise as the stone sped on its mission and struck the tree-stem with a sounding crack, three yards from the bird, which, learning wisdom from experience, at last took wing.In anticipation of their chance coming round again, both Paul and the captain had got ready their artillery, and Oliver hastily put another stone in his sling. A look and exclamation of disappointment were given by each as the bird vanished, but just at that moment a large rabbit darted across their path. Whiz! twang! burr! went bolt and bow and stone, and that rabbit, pierced in head and heart, and smitten on flank, fell to rise no more.“Strange!” said Trench, in open-mouthed surprise, “I’ve often heard of coincidences, but I never did see or hear of the like of that.”“All three to hit it at once!” exclaimed Paul.“Ay, and all three of us doin’ our best to hit it, too,” exclaimed Oliver.“Just so—that’s the puzzle, lad,” rejoined the captain. “If we had been tryin’ to hit something else now, there would have been nothing strange about it! But to hit what we all aimed at—”Apparently the captain failed to find words adequately to express his ideas, for he did not finish the sentence; meanwhile Paul picked up the rabbit and attached it to his belt. After this, advancing through the woods in a north-westerly direction, they made for a somewhat elevated ridge, hoping to obtain from that point a more extended view of the land.Towards noon, feeling hungry, they began to look out for a suitable spot whereon to lunch, or rather to dine; for while travelling on foot in wild countries men usually find it convenient to take a very substantial meal about, or soon after, noon.“To have water handy,” remarked Paul, as they stopped to look round, “is essential to comfort as well as cookery.”“Look there, away to the nor’-west o’ that bunch o’ trees,” said the captain, pointing to a distant spot, “there’s a depression in the ground there; and from the lie o’ the land all round I should say we shall find a stream o’ some sort near it.”“I hope so,” said Oliver; “for I shall want water to wash the rabbit with, and I have a strong hope that we may find fish in the rivers of this land, and although my hooks are big, I think the fish may not be particular, seein’ that they have never before been tempted in that way.”“That’s true, Olly; I hope you won’t be disappointed. But what makes you want to wash the rabbit, my boy?” asked the captain; “it is not dirty?”“Perhaps not; but I don’t quite relish the dirty work of cleaning out a rabbit before cooking it, so I want to try the plan of cutting it open, holding it under water, and scraping out the inside while in that position.”“My son, you won’t be so particular when you’ve been a few weeks huntin’ in the wild woods. But what about the hair?”“Oh, we can singe that off, daddy.”“What! singe off wet hair? And the skin—I doubt we might find that tough?”The young cook—for such he became to the exploring expedition—looked puzzled.“I never skinned a rabbit,” he said, “but no doubt it is easy enough. I’ll just cut it open at the head—or tail—and pull it off like a glove.”“Not quite so easily done as that” remarked Paul, with a laugh; “but I happen to know something about skinning birds and beasts, Olly, so make your mind easy. I will show you how to do it.”“You happen to know something about almost everything, I think,” said the captain. “Tell me now, d’ye happen to know what sort o’ beast it is that I see starin’ at us over the bushes yonder?”“No, Master Trench, I do not; but it looks marvellously like a deer of some sort,” said Paul, as he hastily fitted an arrow to his bow. But before he could discharge it the animal wisely retired into the shelter of its native wilds.By this time, having walked smartly, they had gained the crest of one of the lower ridges, or plateaus, that rose in gentle slopes from the rocky shore, and there, as had been anticipated, they found a small rivulet, such as Americans would call a creek, and Scotsmen a burn. It flowed in a north-easterly direction, and was broken by several small rapids and cascades.With a little shout of satisfaction, Oliver ran down to its banks, getting his hooks out as he went. Arriving at the margin of a deep pool, he bent over it and gazed earnestly down. The water was as clear as crystal, showing every stone at the bottom as if it had been covered merely with a sheet of glass, and there, apparently undisturbed by the intruder, lay several large fish.What they were he knew not—cared not. Sufficient for him that they seemed large and fat. His first impulse was to turn and shout the discovery to his companions; but seeing that they had already set to work to cut firewood a little higher up the stream, he checked himself.“I’ll catch a fish first maybe,” he muttered, as he quickly adjusted to his piece of cord one of the smallest cod-hooks he possessed. A few minutes sufficed for this; but when he was ready, it occurred to him that he had no bait. He looked around him, but nothing suitable was to be seen, and he was about to attempt the all but hopeless task of tearing up the soil with his fingers in search of a worm, when his eyes fell on a small bright feather that had been dropped by some passing bird. “Happy thoughts” occurred to people in the days of which we write, even as now, though they were not recognised or classified as such.Fly-fishing was instantly suggested to the eager boy. He had often tried it in Old England; why not try it in Newfoundland? A very brief period sufficed to unwind a thread from the cord, and therewith to attach the feather to the hook. He had no rod, and neither time nor patience to make one. Gathering the cord into a coil, such as wharfmen form when casting ropes to steamers; he swung it round his head, and hove his hook half-way across the glassy pool.The fish looked up at him, apparently in calm surprise—certainly without alarm. Then Olly began to haul in the hook. It was a fearful fly to look at, such as had never desecrated those waters since the days of Adam, yet those covetous fish rushed at it in a body. The biggest caught it, and found himself caught! The boy held on tenderly, while the fish in wild amazement darted from side to side, or sprang high into the air. Oliver was far too experienced a fisher not to know that the captive might be but slightly hooked, so he played it skilfully, casting a sidelong glance now and then at his busy comrades in the hope that they had not observed him.At last the fish became tired, and the fisher drew it slowly to the bank—a four- or five-pound trout at the very least! Unfortunately the bank was steep, and the boy found, to his distress, that the hook had only caught hold slightly of the fish’s lip. To lift out the heavy creature with the line was therefore impossible, to catch hold of it with the hand was almost equally so; for when he lay down and stretched out his arm as far as possible, he could scarcely touch it with the end of his finger.“If it makes another dash it’ll escape,” muttered the anxious boy, as he slid further and further down the bank—a hairbreadth at a time.Just then the fish showed symptoms of revival. Olly could stand this no longer. He made a desperate grasp and caught it by the gills just as the hook came away. The act destroyed what little balance he had retained, and he went with a sharp short yell into the pool.Paul looked up in time to see his friend’s legs disappear. He ran to the spot in considerable alarm, supposing that the boy might have taken a fit, and not knowing whether he could swim. He was relieved, however, to find that Olly on reappearing struck out manfully with one hand for a shallow place at the lower end of the pool, while with the other he pressed some object tightly to his bosom.“You don’t mean to say,” exclaimed Paul, as he assisted his friend out of the water, “that you went in for that splendid trout and caught it with your hands!”“You saw me dive,” replied the boy, throwing the fish down with affected indifference, and stooping to wring the water from his garments as well as to hide his face; “and you don’t suppose, surely, that I caught it with my feet. Come, look at the depth I had to go down to catch him!”Seizing his prize, Olly led his friend to the spot where he had fallen in, and pointed with a look of triumph to the clear, deep pool. At the moment a smile of intelligence lit up Paul’s features, and he pointed to the extemporised fly-hook which still dangled from the bank.Bursting into a hearty fit of laughter, the successful fisher ran up to the encampment, swinging the trout round his head, to the surprise and great satisfaction of his father, who had already got the fire alight and the rabbit skinned.Need it be said that the meal which followed was a hearty one, though there was no variety save roast rabbit, roast trout, and roast pork, with the last of the cakes as pudding?“A first-rate dinner!” exclaimed Paul, after swallowing a draft of sparkling water from the stream.“Not bad,” admitted Captain Trench, “if we only had something stronger than water to wash it down.”Paul made no reply to this remark, but he secretly rejoiced in the necessity which delivered his friend from the only foe that had power to overcome him.“Now,” remarked Paul, when he had finished dinner, “I will strengthen my bow before starting, for it does not send the arrows with sufficient force, and the only way to do that, that I can think of, is to shorten it.”“And I will feather the last arrow I made,” said Oliver, drawing the shaft in question out of his quiver.“Well, as my bow and bolts are all ship-shape and in perfect order, I will ramble to the top of the ridge before us and take a look out ahead.”So saying the captain departed, and the other two were soon so deeply absorbed in their work and in conversation about future plans that they had almost forgotten him when a loud shout caused them to start up. On looking towards the ridge they beheld Captain Trench tossing his arms wildly in the air, and shouting and gesticulating violently.“Sees savages, I think,” said Paul.“Or gone mad!” cried Olly.Catching up their arms, the two ran hastily to the top of the ridge, where they arrived perspiring and panting, to find that their excitable comrade had only gone into ecstasies about the magnificent scenery that had burst upon his sight.

When their weapons were complete our three travellers started on their journey of exploration in the new-found land.

Captain Trench armed himself with a strong, heavily-made cross-bow, and a birch-bark quiver full of bolts. Paul Burns carried a bow as long as himself, with a quiver full of the orthodox “cloth-yard shafts.” Oliver provided himself with a bow and arrows more suited to his size, and, being naturally sanguine, he had also made for himself a sling with the cord he chanced to possess and the leathern tongue of one of his shoes. He likewise carried a heavy bludgeon, somewhat like a policeman’s baton, which was slung at his side. Not content with this, he sought and obtained permission to carry the axe in his belt. Of course, none of the bolts or arrows had metal points; but that mattered little, as the wood of which they were made was very hard, and could be sharpened to a fine point; and, being feathered, the missiles flew straight to the mark when pointed in the right direction.

“Now, captain,” said Paul, on the morning they set out, “let’s see what you can do with your cross-bow at the first bird you meet. I mean the first eatable bird; for I have no heart to kill the little twitterers around us for the mere sake of practice.”

“That will I right gladly,” said Trench, fixing his bow and string, and inserting a bolt with a confident air.

“And there’s a chance, daddy! See! a bird that seems to wish to be shot, it sits so quietly on the tree.”

The seaman raised his weapon slowly to his shoulder, shut the wrong eye, glared at the bird with the other, took a long unsteady aim, and sent his bolt high over the creature’s head, as well as very much to one side.

“Might have been worse!” said the captain.

“Might have been better,” returned Paul, with equal truth. “Now it’s my turn.”

The bird, all ignorant of the fate intended for it, sat still, apparently in surprise.

Paul drew his cloth-yard shaft to his ear and let fly. It went apparently in search of the captain’s bolt.

“Now me!” cried the impatient Olly, in a hoarse whisper, as he placed a stone in the sling and whirled it round his head. His companions drew off! There was a “burring” noise as the stone sped on its mission and struck the tree-stem with a sounding crack, three yards from the bird, which, learning wisdom from experience, at last took wing.

In anticipation of their chance coming round again, both Paul and the captain had got ready their artillery, and Oliver hastily put another stone in his sling. A look and exclamation of disappointment were given by each as the bird vanished, but just at that moment a large rabbit darted across their path. Whiz! twang! burr! went bolt and bow and stone, and that rabbit, pierced in head and heart, and smitten on flank, fell to rise no more.

“Strange!” said Trench, in open-mouthed surprise, “I’ve often heard of coincidences, but I never did see or hear of the like of that.”

“All three to hit it at once!” exclaimed Paul.

“Ay, and all three of us doin’ our best to hit it, too,” exclaimed Oliver.

“Just so—that’s the puzzle, lad,” rejoined the captain. “If we had been tryin’ to hit something else now, there would have been nothing strange about it! But to hit what we all aimed at—”

Apparently the captain failed to find words adequately to express his ideas, for he did not finish the sentence; meanwhile Paul picked up the rabbit and attached it to his belt. After this, advancing through the woods in a north-westerly direction, they made for a somewhat elevated ridge, hoping to obtain from that point a more extended view of the land.

Towards noon, feeling hungry, they began to look out for a suitable spot whereon to lunch, or rather to dine; for while travelling on foot in wild countries men usually find it convenient to take a very substantial meal about, or soon after, noon.

“To have water handy,” remarked Paul, as they stopped to look round, “is essential to comfort as well as cookery.”

“Look there, away to the nor’-west o’ that bunch o’ trees,” said the captain, pointing to a distant spot, “there’s a depression in the ground there; and from the lie o’ the land all round I should say we shall find a stream o’ some sort near it.”

“I hope so,” said Oliver; “for I shall want water to wash the rabbit with, and I have a strong hope that we may find fish in the rivers of this land, and although my hooks are big, I think the fish may not be particular, seein’ that they have never before been tempted in that way.”

“That’s true, Olly; I hope you won’t be disappointed. But what makes you want to wash the rabbit, my boy?” asked the captain; “it is not dirty?”

“Perhaps not; but I don’t quite relish the dirty work of cleaning out a rabbit before cooking it, so I want to try the plan of cutting it open, holding it under water, and scraping out the inside while in that position.”

“My son, you won’t be so particular when you’ve been a few weeks huntin’ in the wild woods. But what about the hair?”

“Oh, we can singe that off, daddy.”

“What! singe off wet hair? And the skin—I doubt we might find that tough?”

The young cook—for such he became to the exploring expedition—looked puzzled.

“I never skinned a rabbit,” he said, “but no doubt it is easy enough. I’ll just cut it open at the head—or tail—and pull it off like a glove.”

“Not quite so easily done as that” remarked Paul, with a laugh; “but I happen to know something about skinning birds and beasts, Olly, so make your mind easy. I will show you how to do it.”

“You happen to know something about almost everything, I think,” said the captain. “Tell me now, d’ye happen to know what sort o’ beast it is that I see starin’ at us over the bushes yonder?”

“No, Master Trench, I do not; but it looks marvellously like a deer of some sort,” said Paul, as he hastily fitted an arrow to his bow. But before he could discharge it the animal wisely retired into the shelter of its native wilds.

By this time, having walked smartly, they had gained the crest of one of the lower ridges, or plateaus, that rose in gentle slopes from the rocky shore, and there, as had been anticipated, they found a small rivulet, such as Americans would call a creek, and Scotsmen a burn. It flowed in a north-easterly direction, and was broken by several small rapids and cascades.

With a little shout of satisfaction, Oliver ran down to its banks, getting his hooks out as he went. Arriving at the margin of a deep pool, he bent over it and gazed earnestly down. The water was as clear as crystal, showing every stone at the bottom as if it had been covered merely with a sheet of glass, and there, apparently undisturbed by the intruder, lay several large fish.

What they were he knew not—cared not. Sufficient for him that they seemed large and fat. His first impulse was to turn and shout the discovery to his companions; but seeing that they had already set to work to cut firewood a little higher up the stream, he checked himself.

“I’ll catch a fish first maybe,” he muttered, as he quickly adjusted to his piece of cord one of the smallest cod-hooks he possessed. A few minutes sufficed for this; but when he was ready, it occurred to him that he had no bait. He looked around him, but nothing suitable was to be seen, and he was about to attempt the all but hopeless task of tearing up the soil with his fingers in search of a worm, when his eyes fell on a small bright feather that had been dropped by some passing bird. “Happy thoughts” occurred to people in the days of which we write, even as now, though they were not recognised or classified as such.

Fly-fishing was instantly suggested to the eager boy. He had often tried it in Old England; why not try it in Newfoundland? A very brief period sufficed to unwind a thread from the cord, and therewith to attach the feather to the hook. He had no rod, and neither time nor patience to make one. Gathering the cord into a coil, such as wharfmen form when casting ropes to steamers; he swung it round his head, and hove his hook half-way across the glassy pool.

The fish looked up at him, apparently in calm surprise—certainly without alarm. Then Olly began to haul in the hook. It was a fearful fly to look at, such as had never desecrated those waters since the days of Adam, yet those covetous fish rushed at it in a body. The biggest caught it, and found himself caught! The boy held on tenderly, while the fish in wild amazement darted from side to side, or sprang high into the air. Oliver was far too experienced a fisher not to know that the captive might be but slightly hooked, so he played it skilfully, casting a sidelong glance now and then at his busy comrades in the hope that they had not observed him.

At last the fish became tired, and the fisher drew it slowly to the bank—a four- or five-pound trout at the very least! Unfortunately the bank was steep, and the boy found, to his distress, that the hook had only caught hold slightly of the fish’s lip. To lift out the heavy creature with the line was therefore impossible, to catch hold of it with the hand was almost equally so; for when he lay down and stretched out his arm as far as possible, he could scarcely touch it with the end of his finger.

“If it makes another dash it’ll escape,” muttered the anxious boy, as he slid further and further down the bank—a hairbreadth at a time.

Just then the fish showed symptoms of revival. Olly could stand this no longer. He made a desperate grasp and caught it by the gills just as the hook came away. The act destroyed what little balance he had retained, and he went with a sharp short yell into the pool.

Paul looked up in time to see his friend’s legs disappear. He ran to the spot in considerable alarm, supposing that the boy might have taken a fit, and not knowing whether he could swim. He was relieved, however, to find that Olly on reappearing struck out manfully with one hand for a shallow place at the lower end of the pool, while with the other he pressed some object tightly to his bosom.

“You don’t mean to say,” exclaimed Paul, as he assisted his friend out of the water, “that you went in for that splendid trout and caught it with your hands!”

“You saw me dive,” replied the boy, throwing the fish down with affected indifference, and stooping to wring the water from his garments as well as to hide his face; “and you don’t suppose, surely, that I caught it with my feet. Come, look at the depth I had to go down to catch him!”

Seizing his prize, Olly led his friend to the spot where he had fallen in, and pointed with a look of triumph to the clear, deep pool. At the moment a smile of intelligence lit up Paul’s features, and he pointed to the extemporised fly-hook which still dangled from the bank.

Bursting into a hearty fit of laughter, the successful fisher ran up to the encampment, swinging the trout round his head, to the surprise and great satisfaction of his father, who had already got the fire alight and the rabbit skinned.

Need it be said that the meal which followed was a hearty one, though there was no variety save roast rabbit, roast trout, and roast pork, with the last of the cakes as pudding?

“A first-rate dinner!” exclaimed Paul, after swallowing a draft of sparkling water from the stream.

“Not bad,” admitted Captain Trench, “if we only had something stronger than water to wash it down.”

Paul made no reply to this remark, but he secretly rejoiced in the necessity which delivered his friend from the only foe that had power to overcome him.

“Now,” remarked Paul, when he had finished dinner, “I will strengthen my bow before starting, for it does not send the arrows with sufficient force, and the only way to do that, that I can think of, is to shorten it.”

“And I will feather the last arrow I made,” said Oliver, drawing the shaft in question out of his quiver.

“Well, as my bow and bolts are all ship-shape and in perfect order, I will ramble to the top of the ridge before us and take a look out ahead.”

So saying the captain departed, and the other two were soon so deeply absorbed in their work and in conversation about future plans that they had almost forgotten him when a loud shout caused them to start up. On looking towards the ridge they beheld Captain Trench tossing his arms wildly in the air, and shouting and gesticulating violently.

“Sees savages, I think,” said Paul.

“Or gone mad!” cried Olly.

Catching up their arms, the two ran hastily to the top of the ridge, where they arrived perspiring and panting, to find that their excitable comrade had only gone into ecstasies about the magnificent scenery that had burst upon his sight.

Chapter Eight.Beautiful Scenes and Strange Experiences.And, truly, the scene which met their gaze was of a nature calculated to arouse enthusiasm in a much less ardent bosom than that of Captain Trench. A wide undulating country, studded with lakelets and rich with verdure, stretched away from their feet to the horizon, where a range of purple hills seemed to melt and mingle with cloudland, so that the eye was carried, as it were, by imperceptible gradations from the rugged earth up into the soft blue sky; indeed, it was difficult to distinguish where the former ended and the latter began. The lakes and ponds were gay with yellow water-lilies, and the air was musical with the sweet cries of wildfowl; while the noon-tide sun bathed the whole in a golden glory.The effect of such a sight on our wanderers was at first too powerful for words, and when words did burst forth they served to show how wonderfully diverse are the spirits of men. Captain Trench, as we have seen, was moved by this vision of beauty to shout, almost to dance, with delight, while in thought he bounded over the length and breadth of the new land, taking bearings, and making notes and charts with the view of extending the geographical knowledge of mankind! His son Oliver, on the other hand, allowed his imagination to revel freely through the forests and over the hills and across lakes and savannahs in powerful sympathy with the aspirations which must have animated Nimrod; while to Paul Burns, whose temperament was sedate and earnest, as well as cheerful and hearty, the glorious vision at once suggested thoughts of that tranquil home in which man’s lot was originally cast by the loving heart of God.“Now it is quite plain,” said Trench, as they slowly descended into this beautiful scene, “that this land is no collection of small islands, as we have been led to suppose, but a great land full of all that is needful to make it the happy abode of man.”“Just so, daddy!” exclaimed the enthusiastic Oliver, “andwehave been sent to explore it and carry home the news—perhaps to bring out the first settlers and show them the way!”“Why, Olly, you carry too much sail for so small a craft; you look out rather too far ahead. And what mean ye by saying we are sent? Nobody sent us on this journey that I know of, unless you mean that Swinton—the big scoundrel!—sent us.”“Whatever Olly meant by the expression,” interposed Paul, “I think he is right; for all men are sent by the Almighty, no matter where they go.”“What! d’ye mean that men are sent by the Almighty whether they go to do good or evil?”“Ay, Master Trench, that is what I mean; theyaresent by Him, though not sent todo evil. Look here, don’t you admit that God created all men andsentthem into this world?”“Of course I do.”“And that He made you an Englishman, and sosentyou to England; and that He made you a sea-captain, and among other placessentyou to Newfoundland.”“Well—I—I suppose He did,” returned the captain, with that puzzled expression of countenance which was wont to indicate that his mind was grappling difficulties.“Well, then,” continued Paul, “beinggood, of course the Almighty sent us todogood; but He also gave us free wills, which just means permission to do as we please; so it remains to be seen whether we will use our free wills in working with Him, or intryingto work against Him, for, strange to say, we cannot really work against God, we can onlytryto do it, and in so trying we establish the fact of our own wickedness; but His grand and good purposes shall be carried out in spite of us notwithstanding, for he can bring good out of evil.”“Now, Paul, I’ve lost soundings altogether, and it’s my opinion that you are foolishly talking about things that you, don’t understand.”“I never heard, Master Trench, that it was foolish to talk about what one does not understand! On the contrary, it is by talking of things that we don’t understand that we manage at last to understand them. You had a deal of talking about navigation, had you not, before you understood it?”“Look ’ee here, lad,” said Trench, stopping suddenly, with his legs planted firmly apart as though on the quarter-deck of his ship in a cross sea, while he drove his right fist into the palm of his left hand argumentatively. “Look ’ee here. How can it be possible that—that—pooh! Come along, we’ll never get on with our survey of the land if we dispute at this rate.”The stout mariner turned away with an air of exasperation, and resumed his walk at a rapid pace, closely followed by his amused friend and son.This irreverent mode of dismissing a grave and difficult subject was not peculiar to Captain Trench. It has probably been adopted by those who shrink from mental effort ever since the days of Adam and Eve. Minds great and small have exercised themselves since the beginning of time on this perplexing subject—God’s sovereignty and man’s free will—with benefit, probably, to themselves. We recommend it in passing, good reader, to your attention, and we will claim to be guiltless of presumption in thus advising, so long as the writing stands, “Prove all things, and hold fast that which is good.”Before the sun went down that night our explorers had plunged into the very heart of the beautiful country which we have described—now pushing through tangled underwood, or following the innumerable deer-tracks with which the country was seamed, or breasting the hill-sides, or making détours to get round small lakes, being guided, in a westerly direction, by a small pocket-compass which Captain Trench was fortunately in the habit of carrying with him wherever he went. No large lakes or broad rivers had yet been met with, so that up to this point the divergencies from the direct line had not been great.Thus they advanced for several days, subsisting on game and fish, chiefly the last, however; for their shooting powers were very defective, and Oliver was an ardent—too ardent—fisher. Their inability to shoot became at last a serious matter, for many arrows and bolts were lost, as well as much game.“Look, now, there’sanotherchance,” whispered Paul, pointing to a plump willow-grouse that sat in a bush in front of them. “You try first, Master Trench.”“An’don’tmiss, daddy,” said Oliver entreatingly; “there’s only the bones of a rabbit left from this morning’s breakfast.”The captain took a fervently careful aim, but went far wide of the mark, to his intense chagrin. Paul then bent his bow, but without success, though his arrows stuck in a branch close under the bird, which, being very tame, only glanced down inquiringly. Oliver’s arrow went over it, and the stone which he afterwards slang made such a rattling in the bush that the puzzled creature finally retired.“This is becoming serious,” remarked the captain, with a face so solemn that Paul burst into a fit of laughter.“Ha! you may laugh, lad,” continued Trench, “but if you were as hungry as I am you’d be more inclined to cry. D’ye think a stout man like me can sup heartily on rabbit bones?”“You’ve forgot, daddy, the four big trout I caught to-day.”“So I have, Olly; well, come and let’s have ’em cooked at once.”The fish, which were really more than sufficient without the rabbit bones, were soon grilling over a huge fire under the canopy of a spreading birch-tree.When the skipper had disposed of enough to allay the pangs of hunger, he turned and said to his comrades, in a tone of marked decision—“Now, mess-mates, I’ve been rummagin’ my brains a bit, and the outcome of it is as follows:— ‘Whatever is worth doin’ is worth doin’ well,’ as the old proverb puts it. If we are to explore this country, we must set about learning to shoot, for if we don’t, we are likely to starve in the midst of plenty, and leave our bones to bleach in this beautiful wilderness.”“True, Master Trench,” remarked Paul, for the seaman had paused at this point; “thus far you and I think alike. What more have you to say?”“This I have to say, that I am resolved not to explore another fathom o’ this land until I can make sure of hittin’ the crown o’ my cap with a cross-bow bolt at a reasonable distance; and I would advise you both to make the same resolution, for if you don’t you will have to do your exploring without me.”“Just so, captain,” said Paul, putting the last morsel of fish into his mouth, with a sigh of contentment; “you are commander of this expedition. I will obey orders.”“But what do you call a ‘reasonable’ distance, daddy?” asked Oliver, with that pert cock of the head peculiar to insolent youths; “a yard, or a fathom?”“Well, now,” continued Trench, ignoring the question, “we will set about it to-morrow morning, first thing after breakfast; stick up a target, retire to areasonabledistance, and work away from morning till night, and every day till we become perfect.”“Agreed, captain,” said Paul; “but what about food?”“We will give Olly leave of absence for an hour or two daily to go and fish,” said the captain; “that will keep us alive, coupled with what birds or beasts may come accidentally in front of our arrows.”This plan, although proposed at first half in jest, was carried into operation next day, during the whole of which they practised shooting at a mark most diligently. At supper-time, over a couple of fine trout, it was admitted sadly by each that the progress made was very slight—indeed, scarcely perceptible. Next night, however, the report was more favourable, and the third night it was felt that the prospect ahead was becoming hopeful; for, besides the improvement in shooting, two rabbits graced their supper, one having been arrested by an almost miraculous bolt when bolting; the other having been caught, unintentionally, by a stone similar to that which brought down the giant of Gath. The fact that skill had nothing to do with the procuring of either did not in the least detract from the enjoyment with which they consumed both.“Nothing is denied,” they say, “to well-directed labour, and nothing can be done without it.” Like most of the world’s maxims, this is a partially erroneous statement; for many things are denied to well-directed labour, and sometimes amazing success is accorded to ill-directed and blundering efforts. Still, what truth does exist in the saying was verified by our three friends; for, after two weeks of unremitting, unwearied, persistent labour, each labourer succeeded in raising enormous blisters on two fingers of his right hand, and in hitting objects the size of a swan six times out of ten at a “reasonable distance!”Having arrived at this state of proficiency with their weapons, they resumed their journey, fortified with a hearty breakfast, the foundation of which was fish, the superstructure willow-grouse interspersed with rabbit, and the apex plover.Not long after that the first deer was shot. It occurred thus:—They were walking one beautiful morning slowly along one of the numerous deer-tracks of which we have already made mention, and were approaching the summit of a ridge at the very time that a herd of deer, headed by a noble stag, were ascending the same ridge from the opposite side. The little air that moved was blowing in the right direction—from the deer towards the travellers. As they topped the ridge about the same instant, the two parties stood suddenly face to face, and it would be difficult to determine which party looked most amazed.Facility in fitting arrows, etcetera, had been acquired by that time. The hunters were ready in a couple of seconds. The deer, recovering, wheeled about; but before they could take the first bound, “burr, twang, and whizz,” sounded in their ears. The stone struck an antler of the stag, the arrow pierced his flank, the bolt quivered in his heart, and the monarch of the woods, leaping wildly into the air, fell dead upon the ground.“Well done, Master Trench!” shouted Paul, with a hearty cheer. As for Oliver, he uttered a squeal of delight, threw an uncontrollable somersault, and landed, sittingwise, on a bed of soft moss.This was a tremendous triumph and source of jubilation, and it soon became obvious to each that the other two had a hard struggle to keep their expressions of satisfaction within the limits of moderation; for not only had they now obtained the crowning evidence of their skill, but they were provided with a supply of meat which, if properly dried, would furnish them with food for many days to come.It was a striking and picturesque, though perhaps not an agreeable, sight to witness the party that night, in the ruddy light of the camp-fire, with sleeves rolled to the shoulders, and bloody knives in hands, operating on the carcase of the deer, and it was several hours past their usual supper-time before they felt themselves at liberty to sit down on a bed of spruce-fir branches and enjoy the luxury of rest and food.Next day, while proceeding slowly through the woods, chatting merrily over the incidents of the previous day, a sudden silence fell upon them; for out of the thick shrubbery there stalked a tall, noble-looking man of middle age. He was dressed in the garb of a hunter. Long yellow curls hung on his shoulders, and a heavy beard and moustache of the same colour concealed the lower part of a bronzed and handsome countenance. His bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle with good humour as he gazed inquiringly, yet sadly, at the astonished faces of the three travellers.

And, truly, the scene which met their gaze was of a nature calculated to arouse enthusiasm in a much less ardent bosom than that of Captain Trench. A wide undulating country, studded with lakelets and rich with verdure, stretched away from their feet to the horizon, where a range of purple hills seemed to melt and mingle with cloudland, so that the eye was carried, as it were, by imperceptible gradations from the rugged earth up into the soft blue sky; indeed, it was difficult to distinguish where the former ended and the latter began. The lakes and ponds were gay with yellow water-lilies, and the air was musical with the sweet cries of wildfowl; while the noon-tide sun bathed the whole in a golden glory.

The effect of such a sight on our wanderers was at first too powerful for words, and when words did burst forth they served to show how wonderfully diverse are the spirits of men. Captain Trench, as we have seen, was moved by this vision of beauty to shout, almost to dance, with delight, while in thought he bounded over the length and breadth of the new land, taking bearings, and making notes and charts with the view of extending the geographical knowledge of mankind! His son Oliver, on the other hand, allowed his imagination to revel freely through the forests and over the hills and across lakes and savannahs in powerful sympathy with the aspirations which must have animated Nimrod; while to Paul Burns, whose temperament was sedate and earnest, as well as cheerful and hearty, the glorious vision at once suggested thoughts of that tranquil home in which man’s lot was originally cast by the loving heart of God.

“Now it is quite plain,” said Trench, as they slowly descended into this beautiful scene, “that this land is no collection of small islands, as we have been led to suppose, but a great land full of all that is needful to make it the happy abode of man.”

“Just so, daddy!” exclaimed the enthusiastic Oliver, “andwehave been sent to explore it and carry home the news—perhaps to bring out the first settlers and show them the way!”

“Why, Olly, you carry too much sail for so small a craft; you look out rather too far ahead. And what mean ye by saying we are sent? Nobody sent us on this journey that I know of, unless you mean that Swinton—the big scoundrel!—sent us.”

“Whatever Olly meant by the expression,” interposed Paul, “I think he is right; for all men are sent by the Almighty, no matter where they go.”

“What! d’ye mean that men are sent by the Almighty whether they go to do good or evil?”

“Ay, Master Trench, that is what I mean; theyaresent by Him, though not sent todo evil. Look here, don’t you admit that God created all men andsentthem into this world?”

“Of course I do.”

“And that He made you an Englishman, and sosentyou to England; and that He made you a sea-captain, and among other placessentyou to Newfoundland.”

“Well—I—I suppose He did,” returned the captain, with that puzzled expression of countenance which was wont to indicate that his mind was grappling difficulties.

“Well, then,” continued Paul, “beinggood, of course the Almighty sent us todogood; but He also gave us free wills, which just means permission to do as we please; so it remains to be seen whether we will use our free wills in working with Him, or intryingto work against Him, for, strange to say, we cannot really work against God, we can onlytryto do it, and in so trying we establish the fact of our own wickedness; but His grand and good purposes shall be carried out in spite of us notwithstanding, for he can bring good out of evil.”

“Now, Paul, I’ve lost soundings altogether, and it’s my opinion that you are foolishly talking about things that you, don’t understand.”

“I never heard, Master Trench, that it was foolish to talk about what one does not understand! On the contrary, it is by talking of things that we don’t understand that we manage at last to understand them. You had a deal of talking about navigation, had you not, before you understood it?”

“Look ’ee here, lad,” said Trench, stopping suddenly, with his legs planted firmly apart as though on the quarter-deck of his ship in a cross sea, while he drove his right fist into the palm of his left hand argumentatively. “Look ’ee here. How can it be possible that—that—pooh! Come along, we’ll never get on with our survey of the land if we dispute at this rate.”

The stout mariner turned away with an air of exasperation, and resumed his walk at a rapid pace, closely followed by his amused friend and son.

This irreverent mode of dismissing a grave and difficult subject was not peculiar to Captain Trench. It has probably been adopted by those who shrink from mental effort ever since the days of Adam and Eve. Minds great and small have exercised themselves since the beginning of time on this perplexing subject—God’s sovereignty and man’s free will—with benefit, probably, to themselves. We recommend it in passing, good reader, to your attention, and we will claim to be guiltless of presumption in thus advising, so long as the writing stands, “Prove all things, and hold fast that which is good.”

Before the sun went down that night our explorers had plunged into the very heart of the beautiful country which we have described—now pushing through tangled underwood, or following the innumerable deer-tracks with which the country was seamed, or breasting the hill-sides, or making détours to get round small lakes, being guided, in a westerly direction, by a small pocket-compass which Captain Trench was fortunately in the habit of carrying with him wherever he went. No large lakes or broad rivers had yet been met with, so that up to this point the divergencies from the direct line had not been great.

Thus they advanced for several days, subsisting on game and fish, chiefly the last, however; for their shooting powers were very defective, and Oliver was an ardent—too ardent—fisher. Their inability to shoot became at last a serious matter, for many arrows and bolts were lost, as well as much game.

“Look, now, there’sanotherchance,” whispered Paul, pointing to a plump willow-grouse that sat in a bush in front of them. “You try first, Master Trench.”

“An’don’tmiss, daddy,” said Oliver entreatingly; “there’s only the bones of a rabbit left from this morning’s breakfast.”

The captain took a fervently careful aim, but went far wide of the mark, to his intense chagrin. Paul then bent his bow, but without success, though his arrows stuck in a branch close under the bird, which, being very tame, only glanced down inquiringly. Oliver’s arrow went over it, and the stone which he afterwards slang made such a rattling in the bush that the puzzled creature finally retired.

“This is becoming serious,” remarked the captain, with a face so solemn that Paul burst into a fit of laughter.

“Ha! you may laugh, lad,” continued Trench, “but if you were as hungry as I am you’d be more inclined to cry. D’ye think a stout man like me can sup heartily on rabbit bones?”

“You’ve forgot, daddy, the four big trout I caught to-day.”

“So I have, Olly; well, come and let’s have ’em cooked at once.”

The fish, which were really more than sufficient without the rabbit bones, were soon grilling over a huge fire under the canopy of a spreading birch-tree.

When the skipper had disposed of enough to allay the pangs of hunger, he turned and said to his comrades, in a tone of marked decision—

“Now, mess-mates, I’ve been rummagin’ my brains a bit, and the outcome of it is as follows:— ‘Whatever is worth doin’ is worth doin’ well,’ as the old proverb puts it. If we are to explore this country, we must set about learning to shoot, for if we don’t, we are likely to starve in the midst of plenty, and leave our bones to bleach in this beautiful wilderness.”

“True, Master Trench,” remarked Paul, for the seaman had paused at this point; “thus far you and I think alike. What more have you to say?”

“This I have to say, that I am resolved not to explore another fathom o’ this land until I can make sure of hittin’ the crown o’ my cap with a cross-bow bolt at a reasonable distance; and I would advise you both to make the same resolution, for if you don’t you will have to do your exploring without me.”

“Just so, captain,” said Paul, putting the last morsel of fish into his mouth, with a sigh of contentment; “you are commander of this expedition. I will obey orders.”

“But what do you call a ‘reasonable’ distance, daddy?” asked Oliver, with that pert cock of the head peculiar to insolent youths; “a yard, or a fathom?”

“Well, now,” continued Trench, ignoring the question, “we will set about it to-morrow morning, first thing after breakfast; stick up a target, retire to areasonabledistance, and work away from morning till night, and every day till we become perfect.”

“Agreed, captain,” said Paul; “but what about food?”

“We will give Olly leave of absence for an hour or two daily to go and fish,” said the captain; “that will keep us alive, coupled with what birds or beasts may come accidentally in front of our arrows.”

This plan, although proposed at first half in jest, was carried into operation next day, during the whole of which they practised shooting at a mark most diligently. At supper-time, over a couple of fine trout, it was admitted sadly by each that the progress made was very slight—indeed, scarcely perceptible. Next night, however, the report was more favourable, and the third night it was felt that the prospect ahead was becoming hopeful; for, besides the improvement in shooting, two rabbits graced their supper, one having been arrested by an almost miraculous bolt when bolting; the other having been caught, unintentionally, by a stone similar to that which brought down the giant of Gath. The fact that skill had nothing to do with the procuring of either did not in the least detract from the enjoyment with which they consumed both.

“Nothing is denied,” they say, “to well-directed labour, and nothing can be done without it.” Like most of the world’s maxims, this is a partially erroneous statement; for many things are denied to well-directed labour, and sometimes amazing success is accorded to ill-directed and blundering efforts. Still, what truth does exist in the saying was verified by our three friends; for, after two weeks of unremitting, unwearied, persistent labour, each labourer succeeded in raising enormous blisters on two fingers of his right hand, and in hitting objects the size of a swan six times out of ten at a “reasonable distance!”

Having arrived at this state of proficiency with their weapons, they resumed their journey, fortified with a hearty breakfast, the foundation of which was fish, the superstructure willow-grouse interspersed with rabbit, and the apex plover.

Not long after that the first deer was shot. It occurred thus:—

They were walking one beautiful morning slowly along one of the numerous deer-tracks of which we have already made mention, and were approaching the summit of a ridge at the very time that a herd of deer, headed by a noble stag, were ascending the same ridge from the opposite side. The little air that moved was blowing in the right direction—from the deer towards the travellers. As they topped the ridge about the same instant, the two parties stood suddenly face to face, and it would be difficult to determine which party looked most amazed.

Facility in fitting arrows, etcetera, had been acquired by that time. The hunters were ready in a couple of seconds. The deer, recovering, wheeled about; but before they could take the first bound, “burr, twang, and whizz,” sounded in their ears. The stone struck an antler of the stag, the arrow pierced his flank, the bolt quivered in his heart, and the monarch of the woods, leaping wildly into the air, fell dead upon the ground.

“Well done, Master Trench!” shouted Paul, with a hearty cheer. As for Oliver, he uttered a squeal of delight, threw an uncontrollable somersault, and landed, sittingwise, on a bed of soft moss.

This was a tremendous triumph and source of jubilation, and it soon became obvious to each that the other two had a hard struggle to keep their expressions of satisfaction within the limits of moderation; for not only had they now obtained the crowning evidence of their skill, but they were provided with a supply of meat which, if properly dried, would furnish them with food for many days to come.

It was a striking and picturesque, though perhaps not an agreeable, sight to witness the party that night, in the ruddy light of the camp-fire, with sleeves rolled to the shoulders, and bloody knives in hands, operating on the carcase of the deer, and it was several hours past their usual supper-time before they felt themselves at liberty to sit down on a bed of spruce-fir branches and enjoy the luxury of rest and food.

Next day, while proceeding slowly through the woods, chatting merrily over the incidents of the previous day, a sudden silence fell upon them; for out of the thick shrubbery there stalked a tall, noble-looking man of middle age. He was dressed in the garb of a hunter. Long yellow curls hung on his shoulders, and a heavy beard and moustache of the same colour concealed the lower part of a bronzed and handsome countenance. His bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle with good humour as he gazed inquiringly, yet sadly, at the astonished faces of the three travellers.

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