Chapter Twenty Five.The Mills proposed.In two days Malachi and John returned, bringing with them the skins of three bears which they had killed—but at this period of the year the animals were so thin and poor, that their flesh was not worth bringing home. Indeed, it was hardly worth while going out to hunt just then, so they both remained much at home, either fishing in the lake, or taking trout in the stream. Alfred and Martin were still occupied with the farm; the seed had come up, and they were splitting rails for the prairie fence. About a fortnight after Captain Sinclair’s departure, Colonel Foster came in a boat from the fort, to pay them a visit.“I assure you, Mr Campbell,” said he, “I was very anxious about you last winter, and I am rejoiced that you got over it with so little difficulty. At one time we had apprehensions of the Indians, but these have passed over for the present. They meet again this summer, but the Quebec government are on the alert, and I have no doubt but that a little conciliation will put an end to all animosity. We expect a large supply of blankets and other articles to be sent up this spring, as presents to the tribes, which we hope will procure their good-will; and we have taken up several French emissaries, who were working mischief.”“But still we shall be liable to the assaults of straggling parties,” said Mr Campbell.“That is true,” replied the Colonel, “but against them you have your own means of defence. You would, in so isolated a position, he equally liable to a burglary in England—only that in England you would have the laws to appeal to, whereas here you must take the law into your own hands.”“It certainly is not pleasant to be in a continual state of anxiety,” observed Mr Campbell, “but we knew what we had to expect before we came here, and we must make the best of it. So you have lost Captain Sinclair, Colonel; he is a great loss to us.”“Yes, he is to go to England for a short time,” replied the Colonel, “but we shall soon have him back again. He must be very fond of his profession to remain in it with his means.”“He told us that he was about to take possession of a small property.”“A property of nearly 2,000 pounds per annum,” replied the Colonel. “He may consider it a small property, but I should think it otherwise if it had fallen to my lot.”“Indeed, I had no idea, from what he said, that it was so large,” said Mrs Campbell. “Well, I have a high opinion of him, and have no doubt but that he will make a good use of it.”“At all events, he can afford the luxury of a wife,” said the Colonel, laughing, “which we soldiers seldom can.”The Colonel then entered into conversation with Mr Campbell, and after many questions, he observed:“I have been thinking, Mr Campbell, that it will be very advantageous to the government as well as to you, when your farm is cleared and stocked, if, with the water-power you possess here, you were to erect a flour-mill and a saw-mill. You observe that the government has to supply the fort with flour and provisions of all kinds at a very heavy expense of carriage, and the cattle we have at the fort will cost us more than they are worth, now that we have lost your prairie farm, so conveniently situated for us. On the other hand, your produce will be almost useless to you, at the distance you are from any mart; as you will not find any sale for it. Now, if you were to erect a mill, and grind your own wheat, which you may do in another year, if you have funds sufficient; and as you may have plenty of stock, you will be able to supply the fort with flour, beef, pork, and mutton, at a good profit to yourself, and at one-half the price which government pays at present. I have written to the Governor on the subject, stating that we have not the means of keeping our stock, and pointing out to him what I now point out to you. I expect an answer in a few days, and should he authorise me, I may make arrangements with you even now, which will be satisfactory, I have no doubt.”Mr Campbell returned the Colonel many thanks for his kindness, and of course expressed himself willing to be guided by his advice. He stated that he had funds not only sufficient to erect a mill, but also, if he were permitted, to pay for the labour of any party of men which the Commandant would spare during the summer season.“That is the very point which I wished to ascertain; but I felt some delicacy about making the inquiry. Now I consider that there will be no difficulty in our arrangements.”The Colonel remained for some time looking over the farm and conversing with Mr Campbell, and then took his leave.In the meantime, Alfred and his cousins went out to walk; the weather was now beautifully clear, and in the afternoon the heat was not too oppressive. As they sauntered by the side of the stream, Mary said, “Well, Alfred, what do you think of the Colonel’s proposition?”“Yes,” observed Emma, “you are a party deeply concerned in it.”“How so, dear coz?”“Why, don’t you perceive that if the mill is erected, you will be the proper person to have charge of it? What a change of professions, from a sailor to a miller. I think I see you in your coat, all white with flour, coming in to dinner.”“My dear Emma, you don’t intend it, I am sure, but you do not know that you are inflicting pain upon me. When the Colonel made the proposition, I felt the importance of it, as it would be a source of great profit to my father; but at the same time, I don’t know how it is, I have always indulged the idea that we may not stay here for ever, and this plan appeared so like decidedly settling down to a residence for life, that it made me low-spirited. I know that it is foolish, and that we have no chance of ever removing—but still I cannot, even with this almost certainty before my eyes, keep my mind from thinking upon one day returning to my profession, and the idea of becoming a miller for life is what I cannot as yet contemplate with any degree of composure.”“Well, Alfred, I only did it to tease you a little, not to hurt your feelings, believe me,” replied Emma. “You shall not be a miller if you don’t like it, Henry will do better, perhaps, than you; but as for our quitting this place, I have no idea of its being ever possible. I have made up my mind to live and die in the Canadian woods, considering it my wayward fate that all ‘my sweetness should be wasted on the desert air.’”“Repining is useless, if not sinful,” observed Mary Percival. “We have much to be thankful for; at least we are independent, and if we are ever to repay the kindness of our uncle and aunt, who must feel their change of condition so much more than we do, it must be by cheerfulness and content. I have been thinking as well as you, Alfred, and I’ll tell you what was in my thoughts. I looked forward to a few years, by which time, as the country fills up so fast, it is very probable that we shall have other settlers here as neighbours, in every direction. This will give us security. I also fancied that my uncle’s farm and property became of value and importance, and that he himself became a leading man in the district; not only at his ease, but, for a settler, even wealthy; and then I fancied that, surrounded by others, in perfect security, and in easy and independent circumstances, my uncle would not forget the great sacrifice which my cousin Alfred so nobly made, and would insist upon his returning to that profession, to which he is so much attached, and in which I have no doubt but that he will distinguish himself.”“Well said, my sweet prophet,” said Alfred, kissing his cousin, “you have more sense than both of us.”“Answer for yourself, Alfred, if you please,” said Emma, tossing her head as if affronted. “I shall not forget that remark of yours, I can assure you. Now, I prophesy quite the contrary; Alfred will never go to sea again. He will be taken with the charms of some Scotch settler’s daughter; some Janet or Moggy, and settle down into a Canadian farmer, mounted on a long-legged black pony.”“And I too,” replied Alfred, “prophesy, that at the same time that I marry and settle as you have described, Miss Emma Percival will yield up her charms to some long-legged black nondescript sort of a fellow, who will set up a whisky-shop and instal his wife as barmaid to attend upon and conciliate his customers.”“Emma, I think you have the worst of this peeping into futurity,” said Mary, laughing.“Yes, if Alfred were not a false prophet, of which there are always many going about,” replied Emma; “however, I hope your prophecy may be the true one, Mary, and then we shall get rid of him.”“I flatter myself that you would be very sorry if I went away; you would have no one to tease, at all events,” replied Alfred, “and that would be a sad loss to yourself.”“Well, there’s some sense in that remark,” said Emma; “but the cows are waiting to be milked, and so, Mr Alfred, if you are on your good behaviour, you had better go and bring us the pails.”“I really pity Alfred,” said Mary, as soon as he was out of hearing; “his sacrifice has been very great, and, much as he must feel it, how well he bears up against it.”“He is a dear, noble fellow,” replied Emma; “and I do love him very much, although I cannot help teasing him.”“But on some points you should be cautious, my dear sister; you don’t know what pain you give.”“Yes I do, and am always sorry when I have done it, but it is not until afterwards that I recollect it, and then I am very angry with myself. Don’t scold me, dear Mary, I will try to be wiser; I wonder whether what you say will come to pass, and we shall have neighbours; I wish we had, if it were only on account of those Indians.”“I think it very probable,” replied Mary; “but time will shew.”Alfred then returned with the pails, and the conversation took another turn.A few days afterwards, a corporal arrived from the fort, bringing letters and newspapers; the first that they had received since the breaking up of the winter. The whole family were in commotion as the intelligence was proclaimed; Mary and Emma left the fowls which they were feeding; Percival threw down the pail with which he was attending the pigs; Alfred ran in from where he and Martin were busy splitting rails; all crowded round Mr Campbell as he opened the packet in which all the letters and papers had been enveloped at the fort. The letters were few; three from Miss Paterson, and two other friends in England, giving them the English news; one to Alfred from Captain Lumley, inquiring after the family, and telling him that he had mentioned his position to his friends at the Board, and that there could be no call for his services for the present; one from Mr Campbell’s English agent, informing him that he had remitted the money paid by Mr Douglas Campbell for the plants, etcetera, to his agent at Quebec; and another from his Quebec agent, advising the receipt of the money and inclosing a balance-sheet. The letters were first read over, and then the news papers were distributed, and all of them were soon very busy and silent during the perusal.After a while, Emma read out. “Dear uncle, only hear this, how sorry I am.”“What is it, my dear?” said Mr Campbell.“‘Mrs Douglas Campbell, of Wexton Hall, of a son, which survived but a few hours after birth.’”“I am very sorry too, my dear Emma,” replied Mr Campbell; “Mr Douglas Campbell’s kindness to us must make us feel for any misfortune which may happen to him, and to rejoice in any blessing which may be bestowed upon him.”“It must have been a serious disappointment,” said Mrs Campbell; “but one which, if it pleases God, may be replaced; and we may hope that their expectations, though blighted for the present, may be realised on some future occasion.”“Here is a letter from Colonel Foster, which I overlooked,” said Mr Campbell; “it was between the envelope. He says that he has received an answer from the Governor, who fully agrees with him in his views on the subject we were conversing about, and has allowed him to take any steps which he may think advisable. The Colonel says that he will call upon me again in a few days, and that if, in the meantime, I will let him know how many soldiers I wish to employ, he will make arrangements to meet my views as far as lies in his power. We have to thank Heaven for sending us friends, at all events,” continued Mr Campbell; “but at present, we will put his letter aside, and return to our English news.”“Dear England!” exclaimed Emma.“Yes, dear England, my good girl; we are English, and can love our country as much now as we did when we lived in it. We are still English, and in an English colony; it has pleased Heaven to remove us away from our native land, but our hearts and feelings are still the same, and so will all English hearts be found to be in every settlement made by our country all over the wide world. We all glory in being English, and have reason to be proud of our country. May the feeling never be lost, but have an elevating influence upon our general conduct!”
In two days Malachi and John returned, bringing with them the skins of three bears which they had killed—but at this period of the year the animals were so thin and poor, that their flesh was not worth bringing home. Indeed, it was hardly worth while going out to hunt just then, so they both remained much at home, either fishing in the lake, or taking trout in the stream. Alfred and Martin were still occupied with the farm; the seed had come up, and they were splitting rails for the prairie fence. About a fortnight after Captain Sinclair’s departure, Colonel Foster came in a boat from the fort, to pay them a visit.
“I assure you, Mr Campbell,” said he, “I was very anxious about you last winter, and I am rejoiced that you got over it with so little difficulty. At one time we had apprehensions of the Indians, but these have passed over for the present. They meet again this summer, but the Quebec government are on the alert, and I have no doubt but that a little conciliation will put an end to all animosity. We expect a large supply of blankets and other articles to be sent up this spring, as presents to the tribes, which we hope will procure their good-will; and we have taken up several French emissaries, who were working mischief.”
“But still we shall be liable to the assaults of straggling parties,” said Mr Campbell.
“That is true,” replied the Colonel, “but against them you have your own means of defence. You would, in so isolated a position, he equally liable to a burglary in England—only that in England you would have the laws to appeal to, whereas here you must take the law into your own hands.”
“It certainly is not pleasant to be in a continual state of anxiety,” observed Mr Campbell, “but we knew what we had to expect before we came here, and we must make the best of it. So you have lost Captain Sinclair, Colonel; he is a great loss to us.”
“Yes, he is to go to England for a short time,” replied the Colonel, “but we shall soon have him back again. He must be very fond of his profession to remain in it with his means.”
“He told us that he was about to take possession of a small property.”
“A property of nearly 2,000 pounds per annum,” replied the Colonel. “He may consider it a small property, but I should think it otherwise if it had fallen to my lot.”
“Indeed, I had no idea, from what he said, that it was so large,” said Mrs Campbell. “Well, I have a high opinion of him, and have no doubt but that he will make a good use of it.”
“At all events, he can afford the luxury of a wife,” said the Colonel, laughing, “which we soldiers seldom can.”
The Colonel then entered into conversation with Mr Campbell, and after many questions, he observed:
“I have been thinking, Mr Campbell, that it will be very advantageous to the government as well as to you, when your farm is cleared and stocked, if, with the water-power you possess here, you were to erect a flour-mill and a saw-mill. You observe that the government has to supply the fort with flour and provisions of all kinds at a very heavy expense of carriage, and the cattle we have at the fort will cost us more than they are worth, now that we have lost your prairie farm, so conveniently situated for us. On the other hand, your produce will be almost useless to you, at the distance you are from any mart; as you will not find any sale for it. Now, if you were to erect a mill, and grind your own wheat, which you may do in another year, if you have funds sufficient; and as you may have plenty of stock, you will be able to supply the fort with flour, beef, pork, and mutton, at a good profit to yourself, and at one-half the price which government pays at present. I have written to the Governor on the subject, stating that we have not the means of keeping our stock, and pointing out to him what I now point out to you. I expect an answer in a few days, and should he authorise me, I may make arrangements with you even now, which will be satisfactory, I have no doubt.”
Mr Campbell returned the Colonel many thanks for his kindness, and of course expressed himself willing to be guided by his advice. He stated that he had funds not only sufficient to erect a mill, but also, if he were permitted, to pay for the labour of any party of men which the Commandant would spare during the summer season.
“That is the very point which I wished to ascertain; but I felt some delicacy about making the inquiry. Now I consider that there will be no difficulty in our arrangements.”
The Colonel remained for some time looking over the farm and conversing with Mr Campbell, and then took his leave.
In the meantime, Alfred and his cousins went out to walk; the weather was now beautifully clear, and in the afternoon the heat was not too oppressive. As they sauntered by the side of the stream, Mary said, “Well, Alfred, what do you think of the Colonel’s proposition?”
“Yes,” observed Emma, “you are a party deeply concerned in it.”
“How so, dear coz?”
“Why, don’t you perceive that if the mill is erected, you will be the proper person to have charge of it? What a change of professions, from a sailor to a miller. I think I see you in your coat, all white with flour, coming in to dinner.”
“My dear Emma, you don’t intend it, I am sure, but you do not know that you are inflicting pain upon me. When the Colonel made the proposition, I felt the importance of it, as it would be a source of great profit to my father; but at the same time, I don’t know how it is, I have always indulged the idea that we may not stay here for ever, and this plan appeared so like decidedly settling down to a residence for life, that it made me low-spirited. I know that it is foolish, and that we have no chance of ever removing—but still I cannot, even with this almost certainty before my eyes, keep my mind from thinking upon one day returning to my profession, and the idea of becoming a miller for life is what I cannot as yet contemplate with any degree of composure.”
“Well, Alfred, I only did it to tease you a little, not to hurt your feelings, believe me,” replied Emma. “You shall not be a miller if you don’t like it, Henry will do better, perhaps, than you; but as for our quitting this place, I have no idea of its being ever possible. I have made up my mind to live and die in the Canadian woods, considering it my wayward fate that all ‘my sweetness should be wasted on the desert air.’”
“Repining is useless, if not sinful,” observed Mary Percival. “We have much to be thankful for; at least we are independent, and if we are ever to repay the kindness of our uncle and aunt, who must feel their change of condition so much more than we do, it must be by cheerfulness and content. I have been thinking as well as you, Alfred, and I’ll tell you what was in my thoughts. I looked forward to a few years, by which time, as the country fills up so fast, it is very probable that we shall have other settlers here as neighbours, in every direction. This will give us security. I also fancied that my uncle’s farm and property became of value and importance, and that he himself became a leading man in the district; not only at his ease, but, for a settler, even wealthy; and then I fancied that, surrounded by others, in perfect security, and in easy and independent circumstances, my uncle would not forget the great sacrifice which my cousin Alfred so nobly made, and would insist upon his returning to that profession, to which he is so much attached, and in which I have no doubt but that he will distinguish himself.”
“Well said, my sweet prophet,” said Alfred, kissing his cousin, “you have more sense than both of us.”
“Answer for yourself, Alfred, if you please,” said Emma, tossing her head as if affronted. “I shall not forget that remark of yours, I can assure you. Now, I prophesy quite the contrary; Alfred will never go to sea again. He will be taken with the charms of some Scotch settler’s daughter; some Janet or Moggy, and settle down into a Canadian farmer, mounted on a long-legged black pony.”
“And I too,” replied Alfred, “prophesy, that at the same time that I marry and settle as you have described, Miss Emma Percival will yield up her charms to some long-legged black nondescript sort of a fellow, who will set up a whisky-shop and instal his wife as barmaid to attend upon and conciliate his customers.”
“Emma, I think you have the worst of this peeping into futurity,” said Mary, laughing.
“Yes, if Alfred were not a false prophet, of which there are always many going about,” replied Emma; “however, I hope your prophecy may be the true one, Mary, and then we shall get rid of him.”
“I flatter myself that you would be very sorry if I went away; you would have no one to tease, at all events,” replied Alfred, “and that would be a sad loss to yourself.”
“Well, there’s some sense in that remark,” said Emma; “but the cows are waiting to be milked, and so, Mr Alfred, if you are on your good behaviour, you had better go and bring us the pails.”
“I really pity Alfred,” said Mary, as soon as he was out of hearing; “his sacrifice has been very great, and, much as he must feel it, how well he bears up against it.”
“He is a dear, noble fellow,” replied Emma; “and I do love him very much, although I cannot help teasing him.”
“But on some points you should be cautious, my dear sister; you don’t know what pain you give.”
“Yes I do, and am always sorry when I have done it, but it is not until afterwards that I recollect it, and then I am very angry with myself. Don’t scold me, dear Mary, I will try to be wiser; I wonder whether what you say will come to pass, and we shall have neighbours; I wish we had, if it were only on account of those Indians.”
“I think it very probable,” replied Mary; “but time will shew.”
Alfred then returned with the pails, and the conversation took another turn.
A few days afterwards, a corporal arrived from the fort, bringing letters and newspapers; the first that they had received since the breaking up of the winter. The whole family were in commotion as the intelligence was proclaimed; Mary and Emma left the fowls which they were feeding; Percival threw down the pail with which he was attending the pigs; Alfred ran in from where he and Martin were busy splitting rails; all crowded round Mr Campbell as he opened the packet in which all the letters and papers had been enveloped at the fort. The letters were few; three from Miss Paterson, and two other friends in England, giving them the English news; one to Alfred from Captain Lumley, inquiring after the family, and telling him that he had mentioned his position to his friends at the Board, and that there could be no call for his services for the present; one from Mr Campbell’s English agent, informing him that he had remitted the money paid by Mr Douglas Campbell for the plants, etcetera, to his agent at Quebec; and another from his Quebec agent, advising the receipt of the money and inclosing a balance-sheet. The letters were first read over, and then the news papers were distributed, and all of them were soon very busy and silent during the perusal.
After a while, Emma read out. “Dear uncle, only hear this, how sorry I am.”
“What is it, my dear?” said Mr Campbell.
“‘Mrs Douglas Campbell, of Wexton Hall, of a son, which survived but a few hours after birth.’”
“I am very sorry too, my dear Emma,” replied Mr Campbell; “Mr Douglas Campbell’s kindness to us must make us feel for any misfortune which may happen to him, and to rejoice in any blessing which may be bestowed upon him.”
“It must have been a serious disappointment,” said Mrs Campbell; “but one which, if it pleases God, may be replaced; and we may hope that their expectations, though blighted for the present, may be realised on some future occasion.”
“Here is a letter from Colonel Foster, which I overlooked,” said Mr Campbell; “it was between the envelope. He says that he has received an answer from the Governor, who fully agrees with him in his views on the subject we were conversing about, and has allowed him to take any steps which he may think advisable. The Colonel says that he will call upon me again in a few days, and that if, in the meantime, I will let him know how many soldiers I wish to employ, he will make arrangements to meet my views as far as lies in his power. We have to thank Heaven for sending us friends, at all events,” continued Mr Campbell; “but at present, we will put his letter aside, and return to our English news.”
“Dear England!” exclaimed Emma.
“Yes, dear England, my good girl; we are English, and can love our country as much now as we did when we lived in it. We are still English, and in an English colony; it has pleased Heaven to remove us away from our native land, but our hearts and feelings are still the same, and so will all English hearts be found to be in every settlement made by our country all over the wide world. We all glory in being English, and have reason to be proud of our country. May the feeling never be lost, but have an elevating influence upon our general conduct!”
Chapter Twenty Six.The Strawberry’s Wedding.It was very nearly five weeks before Henry returned from his expedition to Montreal. During this time, the Colonel had repeated his visit and made arrangements with Mr Campbell. A party of twenty soldiers had been sent to work at felling timber and splitting rails, for whose services Mr Campbell paid as before. The winter house and palisade fence for the sheep were put in hand, and great progress was made in a short time, now that so many people were employed. They had also examined the stream for some distance, to ascertain which would be the most eligible site for the water-mill, and had selected one nearly half a mile from the shore of the lake, and where there was a considerable fall, and the stream ran with great rapidity. It was not, however, expected that the mill would be erected until the following year, as it was necessary to have a millwright and all the machinery from either Montreal or Quebec. It was intended that the estimate of the expense should be given in, the contract made, and the order given during the autumn, so that it might be all ready for the spring of the next year. It was on a Monday morning that Henry arrived from the fort, where he had stayed the Sunday, having reached it late on Saturday night. Thebateaux, with the stock and stores, he had left at the fort; they were to come round during the day, but Henry’s impatience to see the family would not allow him to wait. He was, as may be supposed, joyfully received, and, as soon as the first recognitions were over, he proceeded to acquaint his father with what he had done. He had obtained from a Canadian farmer forty ewes of very fair stock, although not anything equal to the English; but the agent had worked hard for him, and procured him twenty English sheep and two rams of the best kind, to improve the breed. For the latter he had to pay rather dear, but they were worth any money to Mr Campbell, who was quite delighted with the acquisition. In selecting the sheep, of course Henry was obliged to depend on the agent and the parties he employed, as he was no judge himself; but he had, upon his own judgment, purchased two Canadian horses, for Henry had been long enough at Oxford to know the points of a horse, and as they turned out, he had made a very good bargain. He had also bought a sow and pigs of an improved breed, and all the other commissions had been properly executed; the packages of skins also realised the price which had been put on them. As it may be supposed, he was full of news, talking about Montreal, the parties he had been invited to, and the people with whom he had become acquainted. He had not forgotten to purchase some of the latest English publications for his cousins, besides a few articles of millinery, which he thought not too gay, for their present position. He was still talking, and probably would have gone on talking for hours longer, so many were the questions which he had to reply to, when Martin came in and announced the arrival of thebateauxwith the stores and cattle, upon which they all went down to the beach to see them disembarked and brought up by the soldiers, who were at work. The stores were carried up to the door of the store-house, and the sheep and horses were turned into the prairie with the cows. A week’s rations for the soldiers were also brought up from the fort, and the men were very busy in the distribution, and carrying them to the little temporary huts of boughs which they had raised for their accommodation, during the time they worked for Mr Campbell. Before the evening set in everything was arranged, and Henry was again surrounded by the family and replying to their remaining interrogatories. He told them that the Governor of Montreal had sent them an invitation to pass the winter at Government House, and promised the young ladies that no wolf should venture to come near to them, and that the aides-de-camp had requested the honour of their hands at the first ball which should be given after their arrival, at which they all laughed heartily. In short, it appeared that nothing could equal the kindness and hospitality which had been shewn to him, and that there was no doubt, if they chose to go there, that it would be equally extended to the other members of the family.There was a pause in the conversation, when Malachi addressed Mr Campbell.“Martin wishes me to speak to you, sir,” said Malachi.“Martin,” said Mr Campbell, looking round for him, and perceiving that he was not in the room; “why, yes, I perceive he is gone out. What is it that he cannot say himself?”“That’s just what I said to him,” replied Malachi; “but he thought it were better to come through me; the fact is, sir, that he has taken a liking to the Strawberry, and wishes to make her his wife.”“Indeed!”“Yes, sir; I don’t think that he would have said anything about it as yet, but you see, there are so many soldiers here, and that makes him feel uncomfortable till the thing is settled; and as he can’t well marry while in your service without your leave, he has asked me to speak about it.”“Well, but the Strawberry is your property, not mine, Malachi.”“Yes, sir, according to Injun fashion, I am her father; but I’ve no objection, and shan’t demand any presents for her.”“Presents for her! why we in general give presents or money with a wife,” said Emma.“Yes, I know you do, but English wives an’t Injun wives; an English wife requires people to work for her and costs money to keep, but an Injun wife works for herself and her husband, so she is of value and is generally bought of the father; I reckon in the end that it’s cheaper to pay for an Injun wife than to receive money with an English one; but that’s as may be.”“That’s not a very polite speech of yours, Malachi,” said Mrs Campbell.“Perhaps it an’t, ma’am, but it is near the mark, nevertheless. Now I am willing that Martin should have the Strawberry, because I know that he is a smart hunter, and will keep her well; and somehow or another, I feel that if he made her his wife, I should be more comfortable; I shall live with them here close by, and Martin will serve you, and when he has a wife he will not feel inclined to change service and go into the woods.”“I think it is an excellent proposal, Malachi, and am much pleased with it, as we now shall have you all together,” said Mrs Campbell.“Yes, ma’am, so you will, and then I’ll be always with the boy to look after him, and you’ll always know where we are, and not be frightened.”“Very true, Malachi,” said Mr Campbell; “I consider it a very good arrangement. We must build you a better lodge than the one that you are in.”“No, sir, not a better one, for if you have all you want, you can’t want more; it’s big enough, but perhaps not quite near enough. I’m thinking that when the sheep-fold is finished, it might be as well to raise our lodge inside of the palisades, and then we shall be a sort of guard to the creatures.”“A very excellent idea, Malachi. Well, then, as far as I am concerned, Martin has my full consent to marry as soon as he pleases.”“And mine, if it is at all necessary,” observed Mrs Campbell.“But who is to marry them?” said Emma; “they have no chaplain at the fort; he went away ill last year.”“Why, miss, they don’t want no chaplain; she is an Injun girl, and he will marry her Injun fashion.”“But what fashion is that, Malachi?” said Mary.“Why, miss, he’ll come to the lodge, and fetch her away to his own house.”Alfred burst out into laughter. “That’s making short work of it,” said he.“Yes, rather too short for my approval,” said Mrs Campbell. “Malachi, it’s very true that the Strawberry is an Indian girl; but we are not Indians, and Martin is not an Indian, neither are you who stand as her father; indeed, I cannot consent to give my sanction to such a marriage.”“Well, ma’am, as you please, but it appears to me to be all right. If you go into a country and wish to marry a girl of that country, you marry her according to the rules of that country. Now, Martin seeks an Injun squaw, and why not, therefore, marry her after Injun fashion?”“You may be right, Malachi, in your argument,” said Mrs Campbell; “but still you must make allowances for our prejudices. We never should think that she was a married woman, if no further ceremony was to take place.”“Well, ma’am, just as you please; but, still, suppose you marry them after your fashion, the girl won’t understand a word that is said, so what good will it do?”“None to her at present, Malachi; but recollect, if she is not a Christian at present, she may be hereafter; I have often thought upon that subject, and although I feel it useless to speak to her just now, yet as soon as she understands English well enough to know what I say to her, I hope to persuade her to become one. Now, if she should become a Christian, as I hope in God she will, she then will perceive that she has not been properly married, and will be anxious to have the ceremony properly performed over again; so why not do it now?”“Well, ma’am, if it pleases you, I have no objection; I’m sure Martin will have none.”“It will please me very much, Malachi,” replied Mrs Campbell.“And although there is no chaplain at the fort,” observed Mr Campbell, “yet the Colonel can marry in his absence; a marriage by a commanding officer is quite legal.”“Yes,” replied Alfred, “and so is one by a Captain of a man-of-war.”“So be it then,” replied Malachi; “the sooner the better, for the soldiers are very troublesome, and I cannot keep them out of my lodge.”Martin, who had remained outside the door, and overheard all that passed, now came in; the subject was again canvassed, and Martin returned his thanks for the permission given to him.“Well,” said Emma, “I little thought we should have a wedding in the family so soon; this is quite an event. Martin, I wish you joy; you will have a very pretty and a very good wife.”“I think so too, miss,” replied Martin.“Where is she?” said Mary.“She is in the garden, miss,” said Malachi, “getting out of the way of the soldiers; now that the work is done, they torment her not a little, and she is glad to escape from them; I’d tell them to go away, but they don’t mind me; they know I must not use my rifle.”“I should hope not,” replied Mrs Campbell; “it would be hard to shoot a good man merely because he wished to marry your daughter.”“Why, yes, ma’am, it would,” replied Malachi; “so the sooner she is given to Martin, the sooner we shall have peace.”As the boat was continually going backwards and forwards between the fort and the farm, Mr Campbell wrote to the Colonel, stating what they wished him to do, and the Colonel appointed that day week, on which he would come and perform the ceremony. It was a little fête at the farm. Mrs Campbell and the Misses Percival dressed themselves more than usually smart, so did all the males of the establishment; and a better dinner than usual was prepared, as the Colonel and some of the officers were to dine and spend the day with them. Martin was very gaily attired, and in high spirits. The Strawberry had on a new robe of young deer-skin, and had a flower or two in her long black hair; she looked as she was, very pretty and very modest, but not at all embarrassed. The marriage ceremony was explained to her by Malachi, and she cheerfully consented. Before noon the marriage took place, and an hour or two afterwards they sat down to a well-furnished table, and the whole party were very merry, particularly as the Colonel, who was most unusually gay, insisted upon the Strawberry sitting at the table, which she had never done before. She acquitted herself, however, without embarrassment, and smiled when they laughed, although she could understand but little of what they said. Mr Campbell opened two of his bottles of wine, to celebrate the day, and they had a very happy party; the only people who were discontented were three or four of the soldiers outside, who had wanted to marry the Strawberry themselves; but the knowledge that their Colonel was there, effectually put a stop to anything like annoyance or disturbance on their parts. At sunset the Colonel and officers departed for the fort, the family remained in the house till past ten o’clock, by which time all the soldiers had gone to bed. Mr Campbell then read prayers, and offered up an additional one for the happiness of the newly married couple, after which they all saluted the Strawberry and wished her good night; she was then led to the lodge by Martin, accompanied by Alfred, Henry, Malachi, Percival, and John, who all went home with them as a guard from any interruption on the part of the disappointed suitors.
It was very nearly five weeks before Henry returned from his expedition to Montreal. During this time, the Colonel had repeated his visit and made arrangements with Mr Campbell. A party of twenty soldiers had been sent to work at felling timber and splitting rails, for whose services Mr Campbell paid as before. The winter house and palisade fence for the sheep were put in hand, and great progress was made in a short time, now that so many people were employed. They had also examined the stream for some distance, to ascertain which would be the most eligible site for the water-mill, and had selected one nearly half a mile from the shore of the lake, and where there was a considerable fall, and the stream ran with great rapidity. It was not, however, expected that the mill would be erected until the following year, as it was necessary to have a millwright and all the machinery from either Montreal or Quebec. It was intended that the estimate of the expense should be given in, the contract made, and the order given during the autumn, so that it might be all ready for the spring of the next year. It was on a Monday morning that Henry arrived from the fort, where he had stayed the Sunday, having reached it late on Saturday night. Thebateaux, with the stock and stores, he had left at the fort; they were to come round during the day, but Henry’s impatience to see the family would not allow him to wait. He was, as may be supposed, joyfully received, and, as soon as the first recognitions were over, he proceeded to acquaint his father with what he had done. He had obtained from a Canadian farmer forty ewes of very fair stock, although not anything equal to the English; but the agent had worked hard for him, and procured him twenty English sheep and two rams of the best kind, to improve the breed. For the latter he had to pay rather dear, but they were worth any money to Mr Campbell, who was quite delighted with the acquisition. In selecting the sheep, of course Henry was obliged to depend on the agent and the parties he employed, as he was no judge himself; but he had, upon his own judgment, purchased two Canadian horses, for Henry had been long enough at Oxford to know the points of a horse, and as they turned out, he had made a very good bargain. He had also bought a sow and pigs of an improved breed, and all the other commissions had been properly executed; the packages of skins also realised the price which had been put on them. As it may be supposed, he was full of news, talking about Montreal, the parties he had been invited to, and the people with whom he had become acquainted. He had not forgotten to purchase some of the latest English publications for his cousins, besides a few articles of millinery, which he thought not too gay, for their present position. He was still talking, and probably would have gone on talking for hours longer, so many were the questions which he had to reply to, when Martin came in and announced the arrival of thebateauxwith the stores and cattle, upon which they all went down to the beach to see them disembarked and brought up by the soldiers, who were at work. The stores were carried up to the door of the store-house, and the sheep and horses were turned into the prairie with the cows. A week’s rations for the soldiers were also brought up from the fort, and the men were very busy in the distribution, and carrying them to the little temporary huts of boughs which they had raised for their accommodation, during the time they worked for Mr Campbell. Before the evening set in everything was arranged, and Henry was again surrounded by the family and replying to their remaining interrogatories. He told them that the Governor of Montreal had sent them an invitation to pass the winter at Government House, and promised the young ladies that no wolf should venture to come near to them, and that the aides-de-camp had requested the honour of their hands at the first ball which should be given after their arrival, at which they all laughed heartily. In short, it appeared that nothing could equal the kindness and hospitality which had been shewn to him, and that there was no doubt, if they chose to go there, that it would be equally extended to the other members of the family.
There was a pause in the conversation, when Malachi addressed Mr Campbell.
“Martin wishes me to speak to you, sir,” said Malachi.
“Martin,” said Mr Campbell, looking round for him, and perceiving that he was not in the room; “why, yes, I perceive he is gone out. What is it that he cannot say himself?”
“That’s just what I said to him,” replied Malachi; “but he thought it were better to come through me; the fact is, sir, that he has taken a liking to the Strawberry, and wishes to make her his wife.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes, sir; I don’t think that he would have said anything about it as yet, but you see, there are so many soldiers here, and that makes him feel uncomfortable till the thing is settled; and as he can’t well marry while in your service without your leave, he has asked me to speak about it.”
“Well, but the Strawberry is your property, not mine, Malachi.”
“Yes, sir, according to Injun fashion, I am her father; but I’ve no objection, and shan’t demand any presents for her.”
“Presents for her! why we in general give presents or money with a wife,” said Emma.
“Yes, I know you do, but English wives an’t Injun wives; an English wife requires people to work for her and costs money to keep, but an Injun wife works for herself and her husband, so she is of value and is generally bought of the father; I reckon in the end that it’s cheaper to pay for an Injun wife than to receive money with an English one; but that’s as may be.”
“That’s not a very polite speech of yours, Malachi,” said Mrs Campbell.
“Perhaps it an’t, ma’am, but it is near the mark, nevertheless. Now I am willing that Martin should have the Strawberry, because I know that he is a smart hunter, and will keep her well; and somehow or another, I feel that if he made her his wife, I should be more comfortable; I shall live with them here close by, and Martin will serve you, and when he has a wife he will not feel inclined to change service and go into the woods.”
“I think it is an excellent proposal, Malachi, and am much pleased with it, as we now shall have you all together,” said Mrs Campbell.
“Yes, ma’am, so you will, and then I’ll be always with the boy to look after him, and you’ll always know where we are, and not be frightened.”
“Very true, Malachi,” said Mr Campbell; “I consider it a very good arrangement. We must build you a better lodge than the one that you are in.”
“No, sir, not a better one, for if you have all you want, you can’t want more; it’s big enough, but perhaps not quite near enough. I’m thinking that when the sheep-fold is finished, it might be as well to raise our lodge inside of the palisades, and then we shall be a sort of guard to the creatures.”
“A very excellent idea, Malachi. Well, then, as far as I am concerned, Martin has my full consent to marry as soon as he pleases.”
“And mine, if it is at all necessary,” observed Mrs Campbell.
“But who is to marry them?” said Emma; “they have no chaplain at the fort; he went away ill last year.”
“Why, miss, they don’t want no chaplain; she is an Injun girl, and he will marry her Injun fashion.”
“But what fashion is that, Malachi?” said Mary.
“Why, miss, he’ll come to the lodge, and fetch her away to his own house.”
Alfred burst out into laughter. “That’s making short work of it,” said he.
“Yes, rather too short for my approval,” said Mrs Campbell. “Malachi, it’s very true that the Strawberry is an Indian girl; but we are not Indians, and Martin is not an Indian, neither are you who stand as her father; indeed, I cannot consent to give my sanction to such a marriage.”
“Well, ma’am, as you please, but it appears to me to be all right. If you go into a country and wish to marry a girl of that country, you marry her according to the rules of that country. Now, Martin seeks an Injun squaw, and why not, therefore, marry her after Injun fashion?”
“You may be right, Malachi, in your argument,” said Mrs Campbell; “but still you must make allowances for our prejudices. We never should think that she was a married woman, if no further ceremony was to take place.”
“Well, ma’am, just as you please; but, still, suppose you marry them after your fashion, the girl won’t understand a word that is said, so what good will it do?”
“None to her at present, Malachi; but recollect, if she is not a Christian at present, she may be hereafter; I have often thought upon that subject, and although I feel it useless to speak to her just now, yet as soon as she understands English well enough to know what I say to her, I hope to persuade her to become one. Now, if she should become a Christian, as I hope in God she will, she then will perceive that she has not been properly married, and will be anxious to have the ceremony properly performed over again; so why not do it now?”
“Well, ma’am, if it pleases you, I have no objection; I’m sure Martin will have none.”
“It will please me very much, Malachi,” replied Mrs Campbell.
“And although there is no chaplain at the fort,” observed Mr Campbell, “yet the Colonel can marry in his absence; a marriage by a commanding officer is quite legal.”
“Yes,” replied Alfred, “and so is one by a Captain of a man-of-war.”
“So be it then,” replied Malachi; “the sooner the better, for the soldiers are very troublesome, and I cannot keep them out of my lodge.”
Martin, who had remained outside the door, and overheard all that passed, now came in; the subject was again canvassed, and Martin returned his thanks for the permission given to him.
“Well,” said Emma, “I little thought we should have a wedding in the family so soon; this is quite an event. Martin, I wish you joy; you will have a very pretty and a very good wife.”
“I think so too, miss,” replied Martin.
“Where is she?” said Mary.
“She is in the garden, miss,” said Malachi, “getting out of the way of the soldiers; now that the work is done, they torment her not a little, and she is glad to escape from them; I’d tell them to go away, but they don’t mind me; they know I must not use my rifle.”
“I should hope not,” replied Mrs Campbell; “it would be hard to shoot a good man merely because he wished to marry your daughter.”
“Why, yes, ma’am, it would,” replied Malachi; “so the sooner she is given to Martin, the sooner we shall have peace.”
As the boat was continually going backwards and forwards between the fort and the farm, Mr Campbell wrote to the Colonel, stating what they wished him to do, and the Colonel appointed that day week, on which he would come and perform the ceremony. It was a little fête at the farm. Mrs Campbell and the Misses Percival dressed themselves more than usually smart, so did all the males of the establishment; and a better dinner than usual was prepared, as the Colonel and some of the officers were to dine and spend the day with them. Martin was very gaily attired, and in high spirits. The Strawberry had on a new robe of young deer-skin, and had a flower or two in her long black hair; she looked as she was, very pretty and very modest, but not at all embarrassed. The marriage ceremony was explained to her by Malachi, and she cheerfully consented. Before noon the marriage took place, and an hour or two afterwards they sat down to a well-furnished table, and the whole party were very merry, particularly as the Colonel, who was most unusually gay, insisted upon the Strawberry sitting at the table, which she had never done before. She acquitted herself, however, without embarrassment, and smiled when they laughed, although she could understand but little of what they said. Mr Campbell opened two of his bottles of wine, to celebrate the day, and they had a very happy party; the only people who were discontented were three or four of the soldiers outside, who had wanted to marry the Strawberry themselves; but the knowledge that their Colonel was there, effectually put a stop to anything like annoyance or disturbance on their parts. At sunset the Colonel and officers departed for the fort, the family remained in the house till past ten o’clock, by which time all the soldiers had gone to bed. Mr Campbell then read prayers, and offered up an additional one for the happiness of the newly married couple, after which they all saluted the Strawberry and wished her good night; she was then led to the lodge by Martin, accompanied by Alfred, Henry, Malachi, Percival, and John, who all went home with them as a guard from any interruption on the part of the disappointed suitors.
Chapter Twenty Seven.The Indian’s Visit.“How cheerful and gay everything looks now,” observed Emma to Mary, a few mornings after the celebration of the marriage. “One could hardly credit that in a few months all this animated landscape will be nothing but one dreary white mass of snow and ice, and no sounds meeting the ear but the howling of the storm and the howling of the wolves.”“Two very agreeable conditions, certainly,” replied Mary; “but what you observe was actually occurring to my own mind at the very moment.”The scene was indeed cheerful and lively. The prairie on one side of the stream waved its high grass to the summer breeze; on the other the cows, horses, and sheep were grazing in every direction. The lake in the distance was calm and unruffled; the birds were singing and chirping merrily in the woods; near the house the bright green of the herbage was studded with the soldiers, dressed in white, employed in various ways; the corn waved its yellow ears between the dark stumps of the trees in the cleared land; and the smoke from the chimney of the house mounted straight up in a column to the sky; the grunting of the pigs, and the cackling of the fowls, and the occasional bleating of the calves, responded to by the lowing of the cows, gave life and animation to the picture. At a short distance from the shore the punt was floating on the still waters. John and Malachi were very busy fishing; the dogs were lying down by the palisades, all except Oscar, who, as usual, attended upon his young mistresses; and, under the shade of a large tree, at a little distance from the house, were Mr Campbell and Percival, the former reading while the other was conning over his lesson.“This looks but little like a wilderness now, Mary, does it?” said Emma.“No, my dear sister. It is very different from what it was when we first came; but still I should like to have some neighbours.”“So should I; any society is better than none at all.”“There I do not agree with you; at the same time, I think we could find pleasure in having about us even those who are not cultivated, provided they were respectable and good.”“That’s what I would have said, Mary; but we must go in, and practise the new air for the guitar which Henry brought us from Montreal. We promised him that we would. Here comes Alfred to spend his idleness upon us.”“His idleness, Emma! surely, you don’t mean that; he’s seldom, if ever, unemployed.”“Some people are very busy about nothing,” replied Emma.“Yes; and some people say what they do not mean, sister,” replied Mary.“Well, Alfred, here is Emma pronouncing you to be an idle body.”“I am not likely to be that, at all events,” replied Alfred, taking off his hat and fanning himself. “My father proposes to give me enough to do. What do you think he said to me this morning before breakfast?”“I suppose he said that you might as well go to sea again as remain here,” replied Emma, laughing.“No, indeed; I wish he had; but he has proposed that your prophecy should be fulfilled, my malicious little cousin. He has proposed my turning miller.”Emma clapped her hands and laughed.“How do you mean?” said Mary.“Why, he pointed out to me that the mill would cost about two hundred and fifty pounds, and that he thought, as my half-pay was unemployed, that it would be advisable that I should expend it in erecting the mill, offering me the sum necessary for the purpose. He would advance the money, and I might repay him as I received my pay. That, he said, would be a provision for me, and eventually an independence.”“I told you that you would be a miller,” replied Emma, laughing. “Poor Alfred!”“Well, what did you reply, Alfred?” said Mary.“I said ‘Yes,’ I believe, because I did not like to say ‘No.’”“You did perfectly right, Alfred,” replied Mary. “There can be no harm in your having the property, and had you refused it, it would have given pain to your father. If your money is laid out on the mill, my uncle will have more to expend upon the farm; but still it does not follow that you are to become a miller all your life.”“I should hope not,” replied Alfred; “as soon as Emma meets with that long black gentleman we were talking of, I’ll make it over to her as a marriage portion.”“Thank you, cousin,” replied Emma, “I may put you in mind of your promise; but now Mary and I must go in and astonish the soldiers with our music; so good-bye, Mr Campbell, the miller.”The soldiers had now been at work for more than two months; a large portion of the wood had been felled and cleared away. With what had been cleared by Alfred, and Martin, and Henry the year before, they now had more than forty acres of corn-land. The rails for the snake-fence had also been split, and the fence was almost complete round the whole of the prairie and cleared land, when it was time for the grass to be cut down and the hay made and gathered up. This had scarcely been finished when the corn was ready for the sickle and gathered in, a barn had been raised close to the sheep-fold, as well as the lodge for Malachi, Martin, and his wife. For six weeks all was bustle and hard work, but the weather was fine, and everything was got in safe. The services of the soldiers were now no longer required, and Mr Campbell having settled his accounts, they returned to the fort.“Who would think,” said Henry to Alfred, as he cast his eyes over the buildings, the stacks of corn and hay, and the prairie stocked with cattle, “that we had only been here so short a time?”“Many hands make light work,” replied Alfred; “we have done with the help from the fort what it would have taken us six years to do with our own resources. My father’s money has been well laid out, and will bring in a good return.”“You have heard of the proposal of Colonel Foster, about the cattle at the fort?”“No; what is it?”“He wrote to my father yesterday, saying, as he had only the means of feeding the cows necessary for the officers of the garrison, that he would sell all the oxen at present at the fort at a very moderate price.”“But even if we have fodder enough for them during the winter, what are we to do with them?”“Sell them again to the fort for the supply of the troops,” replied Henry, “and thereby gain good profit. The Commandant says that it will be cheaper to government in the end than being compelled to feed them.”“That it will, I have no doubt, now that they have nothing to give them; they trusted to our prairie for hay, and if they had not had such a quantity in store, they could not have fed them last winter.”“My father will consent, I know; indeed, he would be very foolish not to do so, for most of them will be killed when the winter sets in, and will only cost us the grazing.”“We are fortunate in finding such friends as we have done,” replied Alfred. “All this assistance would not have been given to perhaps any other settlers.”“No, certainly not; but you see, Alfred, we are indebted to your influence with Captain Lumley for all these advantages, at least my father and mother say so, and I agree with them. Captain Lumley’s influence with the Governor has created all this interest about us.”“I think we must allow that the peculiar position of the family has done much towards it. It is not often that they meet with settlers of refined habits and cultivated minds, and there naturally must be a feeling towards a family of such a description in all generous minds.”“Very true, Alfred,” replied Henry; “but there is our mother waiting for us to go in to dinner.”“Yes; and the Strawberry by her side. What a nice little creature she is!”“Yes; and how quickly she is becoming useful. She has almost given up her Indian customs, and is settling down quietly into English habits. Martin appears very fond of her.”“And so he ought to be,” replied Henry; “a wife with a smile always upon her lips is a treasure. Come, let us go in.”Another fortnight passed, when an incident occurred which created some uneasiness. Mr Campbell was busy with Martin and Alfred clearing out the store-room and arranging the stores. Many of the cases and packages had been opened to be examined and aired, and they were busily employed, when, turning round, Mr Campbell, to his great surprise, beheld an Indian by his side, who was earnestly contemplating the various packages of blankets, etcetera, and cases of powder, shot, and other articles, which were opened around him.“Why, who is this?” exclaimed Mr Campbell, starting.Martin and Alfred, who had their backs to him at the time of Mr Campbell’s exclamation, turned round and beheld the Indian. He was an elderly man, very tall and muscular, dressed in leggings and deer-skin coat, a war-eagle’s feather, fixed by a fillet, on his head, and a profusion of copper and brass medals and trinkets round his neck. His face was not painted, with the exception of two black circles round his eyes. His head was shaved, and one long scalp-lock hung behind. He had a tomahawk and a knife in his belt, and a rifle upon his arm. Martin advanced to the Indian and looked earnestly at him.“I know his tribe,” said Martin, “but not his name; but he is a chief and a warrior.”Martin then spoke to him in the Indian tongue. The Indian merely gave an “Ugh” in reply.“He does not choose to give his name,” observed Martin; “and, therefore, he is here for no good. Mr Alfred, just fetch Malachi; he will know him, I dare say.”Alfred went to the house for Malachi; in the meantime the Indian remained motionless, with his eyes fixed upon the different articles exposed to view.“It’s strange,” observed Martin, “how he could have come here; but to be sure neither Malachi nor I have been out lately.”Just as he had finished his remark, Alfred returned with Malachi. Malachi looked at the Indian and spoke to him.The Indian now replied in the Indian language.“I knew him, sir,” said Malachi, “the moment I saw his back. He’s after no good, and it’s a thousand pities that he has come just now and seen all this,” continued Malachi; “it’s a strong temptation.”“Why, who is he?” said Mr Campbell.“The Angry Snake, sir,” replied Malachi. “I had no idea that he would be in these parts before the meeting of the Injun council, which takes place in another month, and then I meant to have been on the look-out for him.”“But what have we to fear from him?”“Well, that’s to be proved; but this I can say that he has his eyes upon what appears to him of more value than all the gold in the universe; and he’s anything but honest.”“But we have nothing to fear from one man,” observed Alfred.“His party an’t far off, sir,” said Malachi. “He has some followers, although not many, and those who follow him are as bad as himself. We must be on the watch.”Malachi now addressed the Indian for some time. The only reply was an “Ugh.”“I have told him that all the powder and ball that he sees are for our rifles, which are more than are possessed by his whole tribe. Not that it does much good, but, at all events, it’s just as well to let them know that we shall be well prepared. The crittur’s quite amazed at so much ammunition; that’s a fact. It’s a pity he ever saw it.”“Shall we give him some?” said Mr Campbell.“No, no, sir; he would only make use of it to try to get the rest; however, I believe that he is the only one of his party who has a rifle. The best thing is to close the doors and then he will go.”They did as Malachi requested, and the Indian, after waiting a short time, turned round on his heel, and walked away.“He is a regular devil, that Angry Snake,” observed Malachi, as he watched him departing; “but never mind, I’ll be a match for him. I wish he’d never seen all that ammunition, nevertheless.”“At all events, we had better not say a word in the house about his making his appearance,” said Mr Campbell. “It will only alarm the women, and do no good.”“That’s true, sir. I’ll only tell the Strawberry,” said Martin. “She’s an Indian, and it will put her on the look-out.”“That will be as well, but caution her not to mention it to Mrs Campbell or the girls, Martin.”“Never fear, sir,” replied Malachi; “I’ll watch his motions, nevertheless; to-morrow I’ll be in the woods and on his trail. I’m glad that he saw me here, for he fears me; I know that.”It so happened that the Indian was not seen by Mrs Campbell or any of them in the house, either upon his arrival or departure; and when Mr Campbell and the others returned to the house, they found that no one there had any idea of such a visit having been paid. The secret was kept, but it occasioned a great deal of anxiety for some days. At last the alarm of Mr Campbell gradually subsided. Malachi had gone out with John, and had discovered that all the Indians had come down near to them, to meet in council, and that there were many other parties of them in the woods. But although the visit of the Angry Snake might have been partly accidental, still Malachi was convinced that there was every prospect of his paying them another visit, if he could obtain a sufficient number to join him, so that he might obtain by force the articles he had seen and so much coveted.
“How cheerful and gay everything looks now,” observed Emma to Mary, a few mornings after the celebration of the marriage. “One could hardly credit that in a few months all this animated landscape will be nothing but one dreary white mass of snow and ice, and no sounds meeting the ear but the howling of the storm and the howling of the wolves.”
“Two very agreeable conditions, certainly,” replied Mary; “but what you observe was actually occurring to my own mind at the very moment.”
The scene was indeed cheerful and lively. The prairie on one side of the stream waved its high grass to the summer breeze; on the other the cows, horses, and sheep were grazing in every direction. The lake in the distance was calm and unruffled; the birds were singing and chirping merrily in the woods; near the house the bright green of the herbage was studded with the soldiers, dressed in white, employed in various ways; the corn waved its yellow ears between the dark stumps of the trees in the cleared land; and the smoke from the chimney of the house mounted straight up in a column to the sky; the grunting of the pigs, and the cackling of the fowls, and the occasional bleating of the calves, responded to by the lowing of the cows, gave life and animation to the picture. At a short distance from the shore the punt was floating on the still waters. John and Malachi were very busy fishing; the dogs were lying down by the palisades, all except Oscar, who, as usual, attended upon his young mistresses; and, under the shade of a large tree, at a little distance from the house, were Mr Campbell and Percival, the former reading while the other was conning over his lesson.
“This looks but little like a wilderness now, Mary, does it?” said Emma.
“No, my dear sister. It is very different from what it was when we first came; but still I should like to have some neighbours.”
“So should I; any society is better than none at all.”
“There I do not agree with you; at the same time, I think we could find pleasure in having about us even those who are not cultivated, provided they were respectable and good.”
“That’s what I would have said, Mary; but we must go in, and practise the new air for the guitar which Henry brought us from Montreal. We promised him that we would. Here comes Alfred to spend his idleness upon us.”
“His idleness, Emma! surely, you don’t mean that; he’s seldom, if ever, unemployed.”
“Some people are very busy about nothing,” replied Emma.
“Yes; and some people say what they do not mean, sister,” replied Mary.
“Well, Alfred, here is Emma pronouncing you to be an idle body.”
“I am not likely to be that, at all events,” replied Alfred, taking off his hat and fanning himself. “My father proposes to give me enough to do. What do you think he said to me this morning before breakfast?”
“I suppose he said that you might as well go to sea again as remain here,” replied Emma, laughing.
“No, indeed; I wish he had; but he has proposed that your prophecy should be fulfilled, my malicious little cousin. He has proposed my turning miller.”
Emma clapped her hands and laughed.
“How do you mean?” said Mary.
“Why, he pointed out to me that the mill would cost about two hundred and fifty pounds, and that he thought, as my half-pay was unemployed, that it would be advisable that I should expend it in erecting the mill, offering me the sum necessary for the purpose. He would advance the money, and I might repay him as I received my pay. That, he said, would be a provision for me, and eventually an independence.”
“I told you that you would be a miller,” replied Emma, laughing. “Poor Alfred!”
“Well, what did you reply, Alfred?” said Mary.
“I said ‘Yes,’ I believe, because I did not like to say ‘No.’”
“You did perfectly right, Alfred,” replied Mary. “There can be no harm in your having the property, and had you refused it, it would have given pain to your father. If your money is laid out on the mill, my uncle will have more to expend upon the farm; but still it does not follow that you are to become a miller all your life.”
“I should hope not,” replied Alfred; “as soon as Emma meets with that long black gentleman we were talking of, I’ll make it over to her as a marriage portion.”
“Thank you, cousin,” replied Emma, “I may put you in mind of your promise; but now Mary and I must go in and astonish the soldiers with our music; so good-bye, Mr Campbell, the miller.”
The soldiers had now been at work for more than two months; a large portion of the wood had been felled and cleared away. With what had been cleared by Alfred, and Martin, and Henry the year before, they now had more than forty acres of corn-land. The rails for the snake-fence had also been split, and the fence was almost complete round the whole of the prairie and cleared land, when it was time for the grass to be cut down and the hay made and gathered up. This had scarcely been finished when the corn was ready for the sickle and gathered in, a barn had been raised close to the sheep-fold, as well as the lodge for Malachi, Martin, and his wife. For six weeks all was bustle and hard work, but the weather was fine, and everything was got in safe. The services of the soldiers were now no longer required, and Mr Campbell having settled his accounts, they returned to the fort.
“Who would think,” said Henry to Alfred, as he cast his eyes over the buildings, the stacks of corn and hay, and the prairie stocked with cattle, “that we had only been here so short a time?”
“Many hands make light work,” replied Alfred; “we have done with the help from the fort what it would have taken us six years to do with our own resources. My father’s money has been well laid out, and will bring in a good return.”
“You have heard of the proposal of Colonel Foster, about the cattle at the fort?”
“No; what is it?”
“He wrote to my father yesterday, saying, as he had only the means of feeding the cows necessary for the officers of the garrison, that he would sell all the oxen at present at the fort at a very moderate price.”
“But even if we have fodder enough for them during the winter, what are we to do with them?”
“Sell them again to the fort for the supply of the troops,” replied Henry, “and thereby gain good profit. The Commandant says that it will be cheaper to government in the end than being compelled to feed them.”
“That it will, I have no doubt, now that they have nothing to give them; they trusted to our prairie for hay, and if they had not had such a quantity in store, they could not have fed them last winter.”
“My father will consent, I know; indeed, he would be very foolish not to do so, for most of them will be killed when the winter sets in, and will only cost us the grazing.”
“We are fortunate in finding such friends as we have done,” replied Alfred. “All this assistance would not have been given to perhaps any other settlers.”
“No, certainly not; but you see, Alfred, we are indebted to your influence with Captain Lumley for all these advantages, at least my father and mother say so, and I agree with them. Captain Lumley’s influence with the Governor has created all this interest about us.”
“I think we must allow that the peculiar position of the family has done much towards it. It is not often that they meet with settlers of refined habits and cultivated minds, and there naturally must be a feeling towards a family of such a description in all generous minds.”
“Very true, Alfred,” replied Henry; “but there is our mother waiting for us to go in to dinner.”
“Yes; and the Strawberry by her side. What a nice little creature she is!”
“Yes; and how quickly she is becoming useful. She has almost given up her Indian customs, and is settling down quietly into English habits. Martin appears very fond of her.”
“And so he ought to be,” replied Henry; “a wife with a smile always upon her lips is a treasure. Come, let us go in.”
Another fortnight passed, when an incident occurred which created some uneasiness. Mr Campbell was busy with Martin and Alfred clearing out the store-room and arranging the stores. Many of the cases and packages had been opened to be examined and aired, and they were busily employed, when, turning round, Mr Campbell, to his great surprise, beheld an Indian by his side, who was earnestly contemplating the various packages of blankets, etcetera, and cases of powder, shot, and other articles, which were opened around him.
“Why, who is this?” exclaimed Mr Campbell, starting.
Martin and Alfred, who had their backs to him at the time of Mr Campbell’s exclamation, turned round and beheld the Indian. He was an elderly man, very tall and muscular, dressed in leggings and deer-skin coat, a war-eagle’s feather, fixed by a fillet, on his head, and a profusion of copper and brass medals and trinkets round his neck. His face was not painted, with the exception of two black circles round his eyes. His head was shaved, and one long scalp-lock hung behind. He had a tomahawk and a knife in his belt, and a rifle upon his arm. Martin advanced to the Indian and looked earnestly at him.
“I know his tribe,” said Martin, “but not his name; but he is a chief and a warrior.”
Martin then spoke to him in the Indian tongue. The Indian merely gave an “Ugh” in reply.
“He does not choose to give his name,” observed Martin; “and, therefore, he is here for no good. Mr Alfred, just fetch Malachi; he will know him, I dare say.”
Alfred went to the house for Malachi; in the meantime the Indian remained motionless, with his eyes fixed upon the different articles exposed to view.
“It’s strange,” observed Martin, “how he could have come here; but to be sure neither Malachi nor I have been out lately.”
Just as he had finished his remark, Alfred returned with Malachi. Malachi looked at the Indian and spoke to him.
The Indian now replied in the Indian language.
“I knew him, sir,” said Malachi, “the moment I saw his back. He’s after no good, and it’s a thousand pities that he has come just now and seen all this,” continued Malachi; “it’s a strong temptation.”
“Why, who is he?” said Mr Campbell.
“The Angry Snake, sir,” replied Malachi. “I had no idea that he would be in these parts before the meeting of the Injun council, which takes place in another month, and then I meant to have been on the look-out for him.”
“But what have we to fear from him?”
“Well, that’s to be proved; but this I can say that he has his eyes upon what appears to him of more value than all the gold in the universe; and he’s anything but honest.”
“But we have nothing to fear from one man,” observed Alfred.
“His party an’t far off, sir,” said Malachi. “He has some followers, although not many, and those who follow him are as bad as himself. We must be on the watch.”
Malachi now addressed the Indian for some time. The only reply was an “Ugh.”
“I have told him that all the powder and ball that he sees are for our rifles, which are more than are possessed by his whole tribe. Not that it does much good, but, at all events, it’s just as well to let them know that we shall be well prepared. The crittur’s quite amazed at so much ammunition; that’s a fact. It’s a pity he ever saw it.”
“Shall we give him some?” said Mr Campbell.
“No, no, sir; he would only make use of it to try to get the rest; however, I believe that he is the only one of his party who has a rifle. The best thing is to close the doors and then he will go.”
They did as Malachi requested, and the Indian, after waiting a short time, turned round on his heel, and walked away.
“He is a regular devil, that Angry Snake,” observed Malachi, as he watched him departing; “but never mind, I’ll be a match for him. I wish he’d never seen all that ammunition, nevertheless.”
“At all events, we had better not say a word in the house about his making his appearance,” said Mr Campbell. “It will only alarm the women, and do no good.”
“That’s true, sir. I’ll only tell the Strawberry,” said Martin. “She’s an Indian, and it will put her on the look-out.”
“That will be as well, but caution her not to mention it to Mrs Campbell or the girls, Martin.”
“Never fear, sir,” replied Malachi; “I’ll watch his motions, nevertheless; to-morrow I’ll be in the woods and on his trail. I’m glad that he saw me here, for he fears me; I know that.”
It so happened that the Indian was not seen by Mrs Campbell or any of them in the house, either upon his arrival or departure; and when Mr Campbell and the others returned to the house, they found that no one there had any idea of such a visit having been paid. The secret was kept, but it occasioned a great deal of anxiety for some days. At last the alarm of Mr Campbell gradually subsided. Malachi had gone out with John, and had discovered that all the Indians had come down near to them, to meet in council, and that there were many other parties of them in the woods. But although the visit of the Angry Snake might have been partly accidental, still Malachi was convinced that there was every prospect of his paying them another visit, if he could obtain a sufficient number to join him, so that he might obtain by force the articles he had seen and so much coveted.
Chapter Twenty Eight.Fire in the Woods.Mr Campbell acceded to the offer made by the Commandant of the fort, and purchased of him, at a moderate price, eighteen oxen, which were all that remained of the stock at the fort, except the cows. He also took six weaning calves to bring up. The cattle were now turned into the bush to feed, that they might obtain some after-grass from that portion of the prairie on which they had been feeding. The summer passed quickly away, for they all had plenty of employment. They fished every day in the lake, and salted down what they did not eat, for winter provision.Martin now was a great part of his time in the woods, looking after the cattle, and Malachi occasionally accompanied him, but was oftener out hunting with John, and always returned with game. They brought in a good many bearskins, and sometimes the flesh, which, although approved of by Malachi and Martin, was not much admired by the rest.As soon as the after-grass had been gathered in, there was not so much to do. Henry and Mr Campbell, with Percival, were quite sufficient to look after the stock, and as the leaves began to change, the cattle were driven in from the woods, and pastured on the prairie. Everything went on in order; one day was the counterpart of another. Alfred and Henry thrashed out the corn, in the shed, or rather open barn, which had been put up by the soldiers in the sheep-fold, and piled up the straw for winter-fodder for the cattle. The oats and wheat were taken into the store-house. Martin’s wife could now understand English, and spoke it a little. She was very useful, assisting Mrs Campbell and her nieces in the house, and attending the stock. They had brought up a large number of chickens, and had disposed of a great many to the Colonel and officers of the fort. Their pigs also had multiplied exceedingly, and many had been put up to fatten, ready to be killed and salted down. The time for that occupation was now come, and they were very busy curing their meat; they had also put up a small shed for smoking their bacon and hams. Already they were surrounded with comfort and plenty, and felt grateful to Heaven that they had been so favoured.The autumn had now advanced, and their routine of daily duty was seldom interrupted; now and then a visit was paid them from the fort by one or other of the officers or the Commandant. The Indians had held their council, but the English agent was present, and the supply of blankets and other articles sent to the chiefs for distribution had the expected effect of removing all animosity. It is true that the Angry Snake and one or two more made very violent speeches, but they were overruled. The calumet of peace had been presented and smoked, and all danger appeared to be over from that quarter. Malachi had gone to the council, and was well received. He had been permitted to speak also as an English agent, and his words were not without effect. Thus everything wore the appearance of peace and prosperity, when an event occurred which we shall now relate.What is termed the Indian summer had commenced, during which there is a kind of haze in the atmosphere. One morning, a little before dawn, Mary and Emma, who happened to be up first, went out to milk the cows, when they observed that the haze was much thicker than usual. They had been expecting the equinoctial gales, which were very late this year, and Mary observed that she foresaw they were coming on, as the sky wore every appearance of wind; yet still there was but a light air, and hardly perceptible at the time. In a moment after they had gone out, and were taking up their pails, Strawberry came to them from her own lodge, and they pointed to the gloom and haze in the air. She turned round, as if to catch the wind, and snuffed for a little while; at last she said, “Great fire in the woods.” Alfred and the others soon joined them, and having been rallied by Emma at their being so late, they also observed the unusual appearance of the sky. Martin corroborated the assertion of the Strawberry, that there was fire in the woods. Malachi and John had not returned that night from a hunting expedition, but shortly after daylight they made their appearance; they had seen the fire in the distance, and said that it was to northward and eastward, and extended many miles; that they had been induced to leave the chase and come home in consequence. During the remainder of the day, there was little or no wind, but the gloom and smell of fire increased rapidly. At night the breeze sprang up, and soon increased to a gale from the north-east, the direction in which the fire had been seen. Malachi and Martin were up several times in the night, for they knew that if the wind continued in that quarter, without any rain, there would be danger; still the fire was at a great distance; but in the morning the wind blew almost a hurricane, and before twelve o’clock on the next day, the smoke was borne down upon them, and carried away in masses over the lake.“Do you think there is any danger, Martin, from this fire?” said Alfred.“Why, sir, that depends upon circumstances; if the wind were to blow from the quarter which it now does, as hard as it does, for another twenty-four hours, we should have the fire right down upon us.”“But still we have so much clear land between the forest and us, that I should think the house would be safe.”“I don’t know that, sir. You have never seen the woods afire for miles as I have; if you had, you would know what it was. We have two chances; one is, that we may have torrents of rain come down with the gale, and the other is that the wind may shift a point or two, which would be the best chance for us of the two.”But the wind did not shift, and the rain did not descend, and before the evening set in the fire was within two miles of them, and distant roaring rent the air; the heat and smoke became more oppressive, and the party were under great alarm.As the sun set, the wind became even more violent, and now the flames were distinctly to be seen, and the whole air was filled with myriads of sparks. The fire bore down upon them with resistless fury, and soon the atmosphere was so oppressive that they could scarcely breathe; the cattle galloped down to the lake, their tails in the air, and lowing with fear. There they remained, knee-deep in the water, and huddled together.“Well, Malachi,” said Mr Campbell, “this is very awful. What shall we do?”“Trust in God, sir; we can do nothing else,” replied Malachi.The flames were now but a short distance from the edge of the forest; they threw themselves up into the air in high columns; then, borne down by the wind, burst through the boughs of the forest, scorching here and there on the way the trunks of the large trees; while such a torrent of sparks and ignited cinders was poured down upon the prairie, that, added to the suffocating masses of smoke, it was impossible to remain there any longer.“You must all go down to the punt and get on board,” said Malachi. “There’s not a moment for delay; you will be smothered if you remain here. Mr Alfred, do you and Martin pull out as far into the lake as is necessary for you to be clear of the smoke and able to breathe. Quick, there is no time to be lost, for the gale is rising faster than before.”There was, indeed, no time to be lost. Mr Campbell took his wife by the arm; Henry led the girls, for the smoke was so thick that they could not see the way. Percival and Strawberry followed. Alfred and Martin had already gone down to get the boat ready. In a few minutes they were in the boat, and pushed off from the shore. The boat was crowded, but, being flat-bottomed, she bore the load well. They pulled out about half a mile into the lake before they found themselves in a less oppressive atmosphere. Not a word was spoken until Martin and Alfred had stopped rowing.“And old Malachi and John, where are they?” said Mrs Campbell, who, now that they were clear of the smoke, discovered that these were not in the boat.“Oh, never fear them, ma’am,” replied Martin, “Malachi stayed behind to see if he could be of use. He knows how to take care of himself, and of John too.”“This is an awful visitation,” said Mrs Campbell, after a pause. “Look, the whole wood is now on fire, close down to the clearing. The house must be burnt, and we shall save nothing.”“It is the will of God, my dear wife; and if we are to be deprived of what little wealth we have, we must not murmur, but submit with resignation. Let us thank Heaven that our lives are preserved.”Another pause ensued; at last the silence was broken by Emma.“There is the cow-house on fire—I see the flames bursting from the roof.”Mrs Campbell, whose hand was on that of her husband, squeezed it in silence. It was the commencement of the destruction of their whole property—all their labours and efforts had been thrown away. The winter was coming on, and they would be houseless—what would become of them!All this passed in her mind, but she did not speak.At this moment the flames of the fire rose up straight to the sky. Martin perceived it, and jumped up on his feet.“There is a lull in the wind,” said Alfred.“Yes,” replied Martin, and continued holding up his hand, “I felt a drop of rain. Yes, it’s coming; another quarter of an hour and we may be safe.”Martin was correct in his observation; the wind had lulled for a moment, and he had felt the drops of rain. This pause continued for about three or four minutes, during which the cow-house burnt furiously, but the ashes and sparks were no longer hurled down on the prairie; then suddenly the wind shifted to the south-east, with such torrents of rain as almost to blind them. So violent was the gust, that even the punt careened to it; but Alfred pulled its head round smartly, and put it before the wind. The gale was now equally strong from the quarter to which it had changed; the lake became agitated and covered with white foam, and before the punt reached the shore again, which it did in a few minutes, the water washed over its two sides, and they were in danger of swamping. Alfred directed them all to sit still, and raising the blades of the oars up into the air, the punt was dashed furiously through the waves, till it grounded on the beach.Martin and Alfred jumped out into the water and hauled the punt further before they disembarked; the rain still poured down in torrents, and they were wet to the skin; as they landed, they were met by Malachi and John.“It’s all over, and all is safe!” exclaimed Malachi. “It was touch and go, that’s sartain; but all’s safe, except the cow-house, and that’s easily put to rights again. You all had better go home as fast as you can, and get to bed.”“Is all quite safe, do you think, Malachi?” said Mr Campbell.“Yes, sir, no fear now; the fire hasn’t passed the stream, and even if it had, this rain would put it out, for we only have the beginning of it; but it was a near thing, that’s sartain.”The party walked back to the house, and as soon as they had entered, Mr Campbell kneeled down and thanked Heaven for their miraculous preservation. All joined heartily in the prayer, and, after they had waited up a few minutes, by which time they were satisfied that the flames were fast extinguishing and they had nothing more to fear, they took off their wet clothes and retired to bed.The next morning they rose early, for all were anxious to ascertain the mischief which had been occasioned by the fire. The cow-house, on the opposite side of the stream, was the only part of the premises which had severely suffered; the walls were standing, but the roof was burnt. On the side of the stream where the house stood, the rails and many portions were actually charred, and had it not been for the providential change of the wind and the falling of the rain, must in a few minutes have been destroyed. The prairie was covered with cinders, and the grass was burnt and withered.The forest on the other side of the stream, to a great extent, was burnt down; some of the largest trees still remained, throwing out their blackened arms, now leafless and branchless, to the sky, but they were never to throw forth a branch or leaf again. It was a melancholy and desolate picture, and rendered still more so by the heavy rain which still continued to pour down without intermission.As they were surveying the scene, Malachi and Martin came to them.“The stock are all right, sir,” said Martin; “I counted them, and there is not one missing. There’s no harm done except to the cow-house; on the contrary, the fire has proved a good friend to us.”“How so, Martin?” asked Mr Campbell.“Because it has cleared many acres of ground, and saved us much labour. All on the other side of the stream is now cleared away, and next spring we will have our corn between the stumps; and in autumn, after we have gathered in the harvest, we will cut down and burn the trees which are now standing. It has done a deal of good to the prairie also, we shall have fine herbage there next spring.”“We have to thank heaven for its mercy,” said Mr Campbell; “at one time yesterday evening I thought we were about to be rendered destitute indeed, but it has pleased God that it should be otherwise.”“Yes, sir,” observed Malachi; “what threatened your ruin has turned out to your advantage. Next year you will see everything green and fresh as before: and, as Martin says, you have to thank the fire for clearing away more land for you than a whole regiment of soldiers could have done in two or three years.”“But we must work hard and get in the corn next spring, for otherwise the brushwood will grow up so fast as to become a forest again in a few years.”“I never thought of inquiring,” said Mary, “how it was that the forest could have taken fire.”“Why, miss,” replied Malachi, “in the autumn, when everything is as dry as tinder, nothing is more easy. The Indians light their fire, and do not take the trouble to put it out, and that is generally the cause of it; but then it requires wind to help it.”The danger they had escaped made a serious impression on the whole party, and the following day, being Sunday, Mr Campbell did not forget to offer up a prayer of thankfulness for their preservation.The roof of the cow-house was soon repaired by Alfred and Martin, and the Indian summer passed away without any further adventure.The day after the fire a despatch arrived from the fort to ascertain their welfare, and the Colonel and officers were greatly rejoiced to learn that comparatively so little damage had been done, for they expected to find that the family had been burnt out, and had made arrangements at the fort to receive them.Gradually the weather became cold and the fires were lighted, and a month after the evil we have described the winter again set in.
Mr Campbell acceded to the offer made by the Commandant of the fort, and purchased of him, at a moderate price, eighteen oxen, which were all that remained of the stock at the fort, except the cows. He also took six weaning calves to bring up. The cattle were now turned into the bush to feed, that they might obtain some after-grass from that portion of the prairie on which they had been feeding. The summer passed quickly away, for they all had plenty of employment. They fished every day in the lake, and salted down what they did not eat, for winter provision.
Martin now was a great part of his time in the woods, looking after the cattle, and Malachi occasionally accompanied him, but was oftener out hunting with John, and always returned with game. They brought in a good many bearskins, and sometimes the flesh, which, although approved of by Malachi and Martin, was not much admired by the rest.
As soon as the after-grass had been gathered in, there was not so much to do. Henry and Mr Campbell, with Percival, were quite sufficient to look after the stock, and as the leaves began to change, the cattle were driven in from the woods, and pastured on the prairie. Everything went on in order; one day was the counterpart of another. Alfred and Henry thrashed out the corn, in the shed, or rather open barn, which had been put up by the soldiers in the sheep-fold, and piled up the straw for winter-fodder for the cattle. The oats and wheat were taken into the store-house. Martin’s wife could now understand English, and spoke it a little. She was very useful, assisting Mrs Campbell and her nieces in the house, and attending the stock. They had brought up a large number of chickens, and had disposed of a great many to the Colonel and officers of the fort. Their pigs also had multiplied exceedingly, and many had been put up to fatten, ready to be killed and salted down. The time for that occupation was now come, and they were very busy curing their meat; they had also put up a small shed for smoking their bacon and hams. Already they were surrounded with comfort and plenty, and felt grateful to Heaven that they had been so favoured.
The autumn had now advanced, and their routine of daily duty was seldom interrupted; now and then a visit was paid them from the fort by one or other of the officers or the Commandant. The Indians had held their council, but the English agent was present, and the supply of blankets and other articles sent to the chiefs for distribution had the expected effect of removing all animosity. It is true that the Angry Snake and one or two more made very violent speeches, but they were overruled. The calumet of peace had been presented and smoked, and all danger appeared to be over from that quarter. Malachi had gone to the council, and was well received. He had been permitted to speak also as an English agent, and his words were not without effect. Thus everything wore the appearance of peace and prosperity, when an event occurred which we shall now relate.
What is termed the Indian summer had commenced, during which there is a kind of haze in the atmosphere. One morning, a little before dawn, Mary and Emma, who happened to be up first, went out to milk the cows, when they observed that the haze was much thicker than usual. They had been expecting the equinoctial gales, which were very late this year, and Mary observed that she foresaw they were coming on, as the sky wore every appearance of wind; yet still there was but a light air, and hardly perceptible at the time. In a moment after they had gone out, and were taking up their pails, Strawberry came to them from her own lodge, and they pointed to the gloom and haze in the air. She turned round, as if to catch the wind, and snuffed for a little while; at last she said, “Great fire in the woods.” Alfred and the others soon joined them, and having been rallied by Emma at their being so late, they also observed the unusual appearance of the sky. Martin corroborated the assertion of the Strawberry, that there was fire in the woods. Malachi and John had not returned that night from a hunting expedition, but shortly after daylight they made their appearance; they had seen the fire in the distance, and said that it was to northward and eastward, and extended many miles; that they had been induced to leave the chase and come home in consequence. During the remainder of the day, there was little or no wind, but the gloom and smell of fire increased rapidly. At night the breeze sprang up, and soon increased to a gale from the north-east, the direction in which the fire had been seen. Malachi and Martin were up several times in the night, for they knew that if the wind continued in that quarter, without any rain, there would be danger; still the fire was at a great distance; but in the morning the wind blew almost a hurricane, and before twelve o’clock on the next day, the smoke was borne down upon them, and carried away in masses over the lake.
“Do you think there is any danger, Martin, from this fire?” said Alfred.
“Why, sir, that depends upon circumstances; if the wind were to blow from the quarter which it now does, as hard as it does, for another twenty-four hours, we should have the fire right down upon us.”
“But still we have so much clear land between the forest and us, that I should think the house would be safe.”
“I don’t know that, sir. You have never seen the woods afire for miles as I have; if you had, you would know what it was. We have two chances; one is, that we may have torrents of rain come down with the gale, and the other is that the wind may shift a point or two, which would be the best chance for us of the two.”
But the wind did not shift, and the rain did not descend, and before the evening set in the fire was within two miles of them, and distant roaring rent the air; the heat and smoke became more oppressive, and the party were under great alarm.
As the sun set, the wind became even more violent, and now the flames were distinctly to be seen, and the whole air was filled with myriads of sparks. The fire bore down upon them with resistless fury, and soon the atmosphere was so oppressive that they could scarcely breathe; the cattle galloped down to the lake, their tails in the air, and lowing with fear. There they remained, knee-deep in the water, and huddled together.
“Well, Malachi,” said Mr Campbell, “this is very awful. What shall we do?”
“Trust in God, sir; we can do nothing else,” replied Malachi.
The flames were now but a short distance from the edge of the forest; they threw themselves up into the air in high columns; then, borne down by the wind, burst through the boughs of the forest, scorching here and there on the way the trunks of the large trees; while such a torrent of sparks and ignited cinders was poured down upon the prairie, that, added to the suffocating masses of smoke, it was impossible to remain there any longer.
“You must all go down to the punt and get on board,” said Malachi. “There’s not a moment for delay; you will be smothered if you remain here. Mr Alfred, do you and Martin pull out as far into the lake as is necessary for you to be clear of the smoke and able to breathe. Quick, there is no time to be lost, for the gale is rising faster than before.”
There was, indeed, no time to be lost. Mr Campbell took his wife by the arm; Henry led the girls, for the smoke was so thick that they could not see the way. Percival and Strawberry followed. Alfred and Martin had already gone down to get the boat ready. In a few minutes they were in the boat, and pushed off from the shore. The boat was crowded, but, being flat-bottomed, she bore the load well. They pulled out about half a mile into the lake before they found themselves in a less oppressive atmosphere. Not a word was spoken until Martin and Alfred had stopped rowing.
“And old Malachi and John, where are they?” said Mrs Campbell, who, now that they were clear of the smoke, discovered that these were not in the boat.
“Oh, never fear them, ma’am,” replied Martin, “Malachi stayed behind to see if he could be of use. He knows how to take care of himself, and of John too.”
“This is an awful visitation,” said Mrs Campbell, after a pause. “Look, the whole wood is now on fire, close down to the clearing. The house must be burnt, and we shall save nothing.”
“It is the will of God, my dear wife; and if we are to be deprived of what little wealth we have, we must not murmur, but submit with resignation. Let us thank Heaven that our lives are preserved.”
Another pause ensued; at last the silence was broken by Emma.
“There is the cow-house on fire—I see the flames bursting from the roof.”
Mrs Campbell, whose hand was on that of her husband, squeezed it in silence. It was the commencement of the destruction of their whole property—all their labours and efforts had been thrown away. The winter was coming on, and they would be houseless—what would become of them!
All this passed in her mind, but she did not speak.
At this moment the flames of the fire rose up straight to the sky. Martin perceived it, and jumped up on his feet.
“There is a lull in the wind,” said Alfred.
“Yes,” replied Martin, and continued holding up his hand, “I felt a drop of rain. Yes, it’s coming; another quarter of an hour and we may be safe.”
Martin was correct in his observation; the wind had lulled for a moment, and he had felt the drops of rain. This pause continued for about three or four minutes, during which the cow-house burnt furiously, but the ashes and sparks were no longer hurled down on the prairie; then suddenly the wind shifted to the south-east, with such torrents of rain as almost to blind them. So violent was the gust, that even the punt careened to it; but Alfred pulled its head round smartly, and put it before the wind. The gale was now equally strong from the quarter to which it had changed; the lake became agitated and covered with white foam, and before the punt reached the shore again, which it did in a few minutes, the water washed over its two sides, and they were in danger of swamping. Alfred directed them all to sit still, and raising the blades of the oars up into the air, the punt was dashed furiously through the waves, till it grounded on the beach.
Martin and Alfred jumped out into the water and hauled the punt further before they disembarked; the rain still poured down in torrents, and they were wet to the skin; as they landed, they were met by Malachi and John.
“It’s all over, and all is safe!” exclaimed Malachi. “It was touch and go, that’s sartain; but all’s safe, except the cow-house, and that’s easily put to rights again. You all had better go home as fast as you can, and get to bed.”
“Is all quite safe, do you think, Malachi?” said Mr Campbell.
“Yes, sir, no fear now; the fire hasn’t passed the stream, and even if it had, this rain would put it out, for we only have the beginning of it; but it was a near thing, that’s sartain.”
The party walked back to the house, and as soon as they had entered, Mr Campbell kneeled down and thanked Heaven for their miraculous preservation. All joined heartily in the prayer, and, after they had waited up a few minutes, by which time they were satisfied that the flames were fast extinguishing and they had nothing more to fear, they took off their wet clothes and retired to bed.
The next morning they rose early, for all were anxious to ascertain the mischief which had been occasioned by the fire. The cow-house, on the opposite side of the stream, was the only part of the premises which had severely suffered; the walls were standing, but the roof was burnt. On the side of the stream where the house stood, the rails and many portions were actually charred, and had it not been for the providential change of the wind and the falling of the rain, must in a few minutes have been destroyed. The prairie was covered with cinders, and the grass was burnt and withered.
The forest on the other side of the stream, to a great extent, was burnt down; some of the largest trees still remained, throwing out their blackened arms, now leafless and branchless, to the sky, but they were never to throw forth a branch or leaf again. It was a melancholy and desolate picture, and rendered still more so by the heavy rain which still continued to pour down without intermission.
As they were surveying the scene, Malachi and Martin came to them.
“The stock are all right, sir,” said Martin; “I counted them, and there is not one missing. There’s no harm done except to the cow-house; on the contrary, the fire has proved a good friend to us.”
“How so, Martin?” asked Mr Campbell.
“Because it has cleared many acres of ground, and saved us much labour. All on the other side of the stream is now cleared away, and next spring we will have our corn between the stumps; and in autumn, after we have gathered in the harvest, we will cut down and burn the trees which are now standing. It has done a deal of good to the prairie also, we shall have fine herbage there next spring.”
“We have to thank heaven for its mercy,” said Mr Campbell; “at one time yesterday evening I thought we were about to be rendered destitute indeed, but it has pleased God that it should be otherwise.”
“Yes, sir,” observed Malachi; “what threatened your ruin has turned out to your advantage. Next year you will see everything green and fresh as before: and, as Martin says, you have to thank the fire for clearing away more land for you than a whole regiment of soldiers could have done in two or three years.”
“But we must work hard and get in the corn next spring, for otherwise the brushwood will grow up so fast as to become a forest again in a few years.”
“I never thought of inquiring,” said Mary, “how it was that the forest could have taken fire.”
“Why, miss,” replied Malachi, “in the autumn, when everything is as dry as tinder, nothing is more easy. The Indians light their fire, and do not take the trouble to put it out, and that is generally the cause of it; but then it requires wind to help it.”
The danger they had escaped made a serious impression on the whole party, and the following day, being Sunday, Mr Campbell did not forget to offer up a prayer of thankfulness for their preservation.
The roof of the cow-house was soon repaired by Alfred and Martin, and the Indian summer passed away without any further adventure.
The day after the fire a despatch arrived from the fort to ascertain their welfare, and the Colonel and officers were greatly rejoiced to learn that comparatively so little damage had been done, for they expected to find that the family had been burnt out, and had made arrangements at the fort to receive them.
Gradually the weather became cold and the fires were lighted, and a month after the evil we have described the winter again set in.