Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Eighteen.The walk continued—Frozen toes—An encampment in the snow.After quitting York Fort, the three friends followed the track leading to the spot where the winter’s firewood was cut. Snow was still falling thickly, and it was with some difficulty that the accountant kept in the right direction. The night was excessively dark, while the dense fir forest, through which the narrow road ran, rendered the gloom, if possible, more intense.When they had proceeded about a mile, their leader suddenly came to a stand.“We must quit the track now,” said he; “so get on your snow-shoes as fast as you can.”Hitherto they had carried their snow-shoes under their arms, as the beaten track along which they travelled rendered them unnecessary; but now, having to leave the path and pursue the remainder of their journey through deep snow, they availed themselves of those useful machines by means of which the inhabitants of this part of North America are enabled to journey over many miles of trackless wilderness, with nearly as much ease as a sportsman can traverse the moors in autumn, and that over snow so deep that one hour’s walk through itwithoutsuch aids would completely exhaust the stoutest trapper, and advance him only a mile or so on his journey. In other words, to walk without snow-shoes would be utterly impossible, while to walk with them is easy and agreeable. They are not used, after the manner of skates, with asliding, but asteppingaction, and their sole use is to support the wearer on the top of snow, into which without them he would sink up to the waist. When we say that they support the wearer on thetopof the snow, of course we do not mean that they literally do not break the surface at all. But the depth to which they sink is comparatively trifling, and varies according to the state of the snow and the season of the year. In the woods they sink frequently about six inches, sometimes more, sometimes less; while on frozen rivers, where the snow is packed solid by the action of the wind, they sink only two or three inches, and sometimes so little as to render it preferable to walk without them altogether. Snow-shoes are made of a light, strong framework of wood, varying from three to six feet long by eighteen and twenty inches broad, tapering to a point before and behind, and turning up in front. Different tribes of Indians modify the form a little, but in all essential points they are the same. The framework is filled up with a netting of deer-skin threads, which unites lightness with great strength, and permits any snow that may chance to fall upon the netting to pass through it like a sieve.On the present occasion, the snow, having recently fallen, was soft, and the walking, consequently, what is called heavy.“Come on,” shouted the accountant, as he came to a stand for the third time within half an hour, to await the coming up of poor Hamilton, who, being rather awkward in snow-shoe walking even in daylight, found it nearly impossible in the dark.“Wait a little, please,” replied a faint voice in the distance; “I’ve got among a quantity of willows, and find it very difficult to get on. I’ve been down twice al—”The sudden cessation of the voice, and a loud crash as of breaking branches, proved too clearly that our friend had accomplished his third fall.“There he goes again,” exclaimed Harry Somerville, who came up at the moment. “I’ve helped him up once already. We’ll never get to North River at this rate. Whatisto be done?”“Let’s see what has become of him this time, however,” said the accountant, as he began to retrace his steps. “If I mistake not, he made rather a heavy plunge that time, judging from the sound.”At that moment the clouds overhead broke, and a moonbeam shot down into the forest, throwing a pale light over the cold scene. A few steps brought Harry and the accountant to the spot whence the sound had proceeded, and a loud, startling laugh rang through the night air, as the latter suddenly beheld poor Hamilton struggling, with his arms, head, and shoulders stuck into the snow, his snow-shoes twisted and sticking with the heels up and awry, in a sort of rampant confusion, and his gun buried to the locks beside him. Regaining one’s perpendicular after a fall in deep snow, when the feet are encumbered by a pair of long snow-shoes, is by no means an easy thing to accomplish, in consequence of the impossibility of getting hold of anything solid on which to rest the hands. The depth is so great that the outstretched arms cannot find bottom, and every successive struggle only sinks the unhappy victim deeper down. Should no assistance be near, he will soon beat the snow to a solidity that will enable him to rise, but not in a very enviable or comfortable condition.“Give me a hand, Harry,” gasped Hamilton, as he managed to twist his head upwards for a moment.“Here you are,” cried Harry, holding out his hand and endeavouring to suppress his desire to laugh; “up with you,” and in another moment the poor youth was upon his legs, with every fold and crevice about his person stuffed to repletion with snow.“Come, cheer up,” cried the accountant, giving the youth a slap on the back; “there’s nothing like experience—the proverb says that it even teaches fools, so you need not despair.”Hamilton smiled as he endeavoured to shake off some of his white coating.“We’ll be all right immediately,” added Harry; “I see that the country ahead is more open, so the walking will be easier.”“Oh, I wish that I had not come!” said Hamilton, sorrowfully, “because I am only detaining you. But perhaps I shall do better as we get on. At any rate I cannot go back now, as I could never find the way.”“Go back! of course not,” said the accountant; “in a short time we shall get into the old woodcutters’ track of last year, and although it’s not beaten at all, yet it is pretty level and open, so that we shall get on famously.”“Go on then,” sighed Hamilton.“Drive ahead,” laughed Harry; and without further delay they resumed their march, which was soon rendered more cheerful as the clouds rolled away, the snow ceased to fall, and the bright, full moon poured its rays down upon their path.For a long time they proceeded in silence, the muffled sound of the snow, as it sank beneath their regular footsteps, being the only interruption to the universal stillness around. There is something very solemnising in a scene such as we are now describing—the calm tranquillity of the arctic night, the pure whiteness of the snowy carpet, which rendered the dark firs inky black by contrast; the clear, cold, starry sky, that glimmered behind the dark clouds, whose heavy masses, now rolling across the moon, partially obscured the landscape, and anon, passing slowly away, let a flood of light down upon the forest, which, penetrating between the thick branches, scattered the surface of the snow as it were with flakes of silver. Sleep has often been applied as a simile to nature in repose, but in this case death seemed more appropriate. So silent, so cold, so still was the scene, that it filled the mind with an indefinable feeling of dread, as if there was some mysterious danger near. Once or twice during their walk the three travellers paused to rest, but they spoke little, and in subdued voices, as if they feared to break the silence of the night.“It is strange,” said Harry, in a low tone, as he walked beside Hamilton, “that such a scene as this always makes me think more than usual of home.”“And yet it is natural,” replied the other, “because it reminds us more forcibly than any other that we are in a foreign land—in the lonely wilderness—far away from home.”Both Harry and Hamilton had been trained in families where the Almighty was feared and loved, and where their minds had been early led to reflect upon the Creator when regarding the works of His hand: their thoughts, therefore, naturally reverted to another home, compared with which this world is indeed a cold, lonely wilderness; but on such subjects they feared to converse, partly from a dread of the ridicule of reckless companions, partly from ignorance of each other’s feelings on religious matters, and although their minds were busy their tongues were silent.The ground over which the greater part of their path lay was a swamp, which, being now frozen, was a beautiful white plain, so that their advance was more rapid, until they approached the belt of woodland that skirts North River. Here they again encountered the heavy snow, which had been such a source of difficulty to Hamilton at setting out. He had profited by his former experience, however, and by the exercise of an excessive degree of caution managed to scramble through the woods tolerably well, emerging at last, along with his companions, on the bleak margin of what appeared to be the frozen sea.North River, at this place, is several miles broad, and the opposite shore is so low that the snow causes it to appear but a slight undulation of the frozen bed of the river. Indeed, it would not be distinguishable at all, were it not for the willow bushes and dwarf pines, whose tops, rising above the white garb of winter, indicate thatterra firmalies below.“What a cold, desolate-looking place!” said Hamilton, as the party stood still to recover breath before taking their way over the plain to the spot where the accountant’s traps were set. “It looks much more like the frozen sea than a river.”“It can scarcely be called a river at this place,” remarked the accountant, “seeing that the water hereabouts is brackish, and the tides ebb and flow a good way up. In fact, this is the extreme mouth of North River; and if you turn your eyes a little to the right, towards yonder ice-hummock in the plain, you behold the frozen sea itself.”“Where are your traps set?” inquired Harry.“Down in the hollow, behind yon point covered with brushwood.”“Oh, we shall soon get to them, then; come along,” cried Harry.Harry was mistaken, however. He had not yet learned by experience the extreme difficulty of judging of distance in the uncertain light of night—a difficulty that was increased by his ignorance of the locality, and by the gleams of moonshine that shot through the driving clouds, and threw confused, fantastic shadows over the plain. The point which he had at first supposed was covered with low bushes, and about a hundred yards off, proved to be clad in reality with large bushes and small trees, and lay at a distance of two miles.“I think you have been mistaken in supposing the point so near, Harry,” said Hamilton, as he trudged on beside his friend.“A fact evident to the naked eye,” replied Harry. “How do your feet stand it, eh? Beginning to lose bark yet?”Hamilton did not feel quite sure. “I think,” said he, softly, “that there is a blister under the big toe of my left foot. It feels very painful.”“If you feel at alluncertainabout it, you may rest assured that thereisa blister. These things don’t give much pain at first. I’m sorry to tell you, my dear fellow, that you’ll be painfully aware of the fact to-morrow. However, don’t distress yourself; it’s a part of the experience that every one goes through in this country. Besides,” said Harry, smiling, “we can send to the fort for medical advice.”“Don’t bother the poor fellow, and hold your tongue, Harry,” said the accountant, who now began to tread more cautiously as he approached the place where the traps were set.“How many traps have you?” inquired Harry, in a low tone.“Three,” replied the accountant.“Do you know I have a very strange feeling about my heels—or rather a want of feeling,” said Hamilton, smiling dubiously.“A want of feeling! what do you mean?” cried the accountant, stopping suddenly and confronting his young friend.“Oh, I daresay it’s nothing,” he exclaimed, looking as if ashamed of having spoken of it; “only I feel exactly as if both my heels were cut off, and I were walking on tiptoe!”“Say you so? then right about wheel. Your heels are frozen, man, and you’ll lose them if you don’t look sharp.”“Frozen!” cried Hamilton, with a look of incredulity.“Ay, frozen; and it’s lucky you told me. I’ve a place up in the woods here, which I call my winter camp, where we can get you put to rights. But step out; the longer we are about it the worse for you.”Harry Somerville was at first disposed to think that the accountant jested, but seeing that he turned his back towards his traps, and made for the nearest point of the thick woods with a stride that betokened thorough sincerity, he became anxious too, and followed as fast as possible.The place to which the accountant led his young friends was a group of fir trees which grew on a little knoll, that rose a few feet above the surrounding level country. At the foot of this hillock a small rivulet or burn ran in summer, but the only evidence of its presence now was the absence of willow bushes all along its covered narrow bed. A level tract was thus formed by nature, free from all underwood, and running inland about the distance of a mile, where it was lost in the swamp whence the stream issued. The wooded knoll or hillock lay at the mouth of this brook, and being the only elevated spot in the neighbourhood, besides having the largest trees growing on it, had been selected by the accountant as a convenient place for “camping out” on, when he visited his traps in winter, and happened to be either too late or disinclined to return home. Moreover, the spreading fir branches afforded an excellent shelter alike from wind and snow in the centre of the clump, while from the margin was obtained a partial view of the river and the sea beyond. Indeed, from this look-out there was a very fine prospect on clear winter nights of the white landscape, enlivened occasionally by groups of arctic foxes, which might be seen scampering about in sport, and gambolling among the hummocks of ice like young kittens.“Now we shall turn up here,” said the accountant, as he walked a short way up the brook before mentioned, and halted in front of what appeared to be an impenetrable mass of bushes.“We shall have to cut our way, then,” said Harry, looking to the right and left, in the vain hope of discovering a place where, the bushes being less dense, they might effect an entrance into the knoll or grove.“Not so. I have taken care to make a passage into my winter camp, although it was only a whim, after all, to make a concealed entrance, seeing that no one ever passes this way except wolves and foxes, whose noses render the use of their eyes in most cases unnecessary.”So saying, the accountant turned aside a thick branch, and disclosed a narrow track, into which he entered, followed by his two companions.A few minutes brought them to the centre of the knoll. Here they found a clear space of about twenty feet in diameter, around which the trees circled so thickly that in daylight nothing could be seen but tree-stems as far as the eye could penetrate, while overhead the broad, flat branches of the firs, with their evergreen verdure, spread out and interlaced so thickly that very little light penetrated into the space below. Of course at night, even in moonlight, the place was pitch dark. Into this retreat the accountant led his companions, and bidding them stand still for a minute lest they should tumble into the fireplace, he proceeded to strike a light.Those who have never travelled in the wild parts of this world can form but a faint conception of the extraordinary and sudden change that is produced, not only in the scene, but in the mind of the beholder, when a blazing fire is lighted in a dark night. Before the fire is kindled, and you stand, perhaps (as Harry and his friend did on the present occasion) shivering in the cold, the heart sinks, and sad, gloomy thoughts arise, while your eye endeavours to pierce the thick darkness, which, if it succeed in doing so, only adds to the effect by disclosing the pallid snow, the cold, chilling beams of the moon, the white vistas of savage scenery, the awe-inspiring solitudes that tell of your isolated condition, or stir up sad memories of other and far-distant scenes. But the moment the first spark of fire sends a fitful gleam of light upwards, these thoughts and feelings take wing and vanish. The indistinct scenery is rendered utterly invisible by the red light, which attracts and rivets the eye as if by a species of fascination. The deep shadows of the woods immediately around you grow deeper and blacker as the flames leap and sparkle upwards, causing the stems of the surrounding trees, and the foliage of the overhanging branches, to stand out in bold relief, bathed in a ruddy glow, which converts the forest chamber into a snug,home-likeplace, and fills the mind with agreeable,home-likefeelings and meditations. It seems as if the spirit, in the one case, were set loose and etherealised to enable it to spread itself over the plains of cold, cheerless, illimitable space, and left to dwell upon objects too wide to grasp, too indistinct to comprehend; while, in the other, it is recalled and concentrated upon matters circumscribed and congenial, things of which it has long been cognisant, and which it can appreciate and enjoy without the effort of a thought.Some such thoughts and feelings passed rapidly through the minds of Harry and Hamilton while the accountant struck a light and kindled a roaring fire of logs, which he had cut and arranged there on a previous occasion. In the middle of the space thus brilliantly illuminated, the snow had been cleared away till the moss was uncovered, thus leaving a hole of about ten feet in diameter. As the snow was quite four feet deep, the hole was surrounded with a pure white wall, whose height was further increased by the masses thrown out in the process of digging to nearly six feet. At one end of this space was the large fire which had just been kindled, and which, owing to the intense cold, only melted a very little of the snow in its immediate neighbourhood. At the other end lay a mass of flat pine branches, which were piled up so thickly as to form a pleasant elastic couch, the upper end being slightly raised so as to form a kind of bolster, while the lower extended almost into the fire. Indeed, the branches at the extremity were burnt quite brown, and some of them charred. Beside the bolster lay a small wooden box, a round tin kettle, an iron tea-kettle, two tin mugs, a hatchet, and a large bundle tied up in a green blanket. There were thus, as it were, two apartments, one within the other—namely, the outer one, whose walls were formed of tree-stems and thick darkness, and the ceiling of green boughs; and then the inner one, with walls of snow, that sparkled in the firelight as if set with precious stones, and a carpet of evergreen branches.Within this latter our three friends were soon actively employed. Poor Hamilton’s moccasins were speedily removed, and his friends, going down on their knees, began to rub his feet with a degree of energy that induced him to beg for mercy.“Mercy!” exclaimed the accountant, without pausing for an instant; “faith, it’s little mercy there would be in stopping just now.—Rub away, Harry. Don’t give in. They’re coming right at last.”After a very severe rubbing, the heels began to show symptoms of returning vitality. They were then wrapped up in the folds of a thick blanket, and held sufficiently near to the fire to prevent any chance of the frost getting at them again.“Now, my boy,” said the accountant, as he sat down to enjoy a pipe and rest himself on a blanket, which, along with the one wrapped round Hamilton’s feet, had been extracted from the green bundle before mentioned—“now, my boy, you’ll have to enjoy yourself here as you best can for an hour or two, while Harry and I visit the traps. Would you like supper before we go, or shall we have it on our return?”“Oh, I’ll wait for it, by all means, till you return. I don’t feel a bit hungry just now, and it will be much more cheerful to have it after all your work is over. Besides, I feel my feet too painful to enjoy it just now.”“My poor fellow,” said Harry, whose heart smote him for having been disposed at first to treat the thing lightly, “I’m really sorry for you. Would you not like me to stay with you?”“By no means,” replied Hamilton quickly. “You can do nothing more for me, Harry; and I should be very sorry if you missed seeing the traps.”“Oh, never mind the traps. I’ve seen traps, and set them too, fifty times before now. I’ll stop with you, old boy, I will,” said Harry doggedly, while he made arrangements to settle down for the evening.“Well, ifyouwon’t go, I will,” said Hamilton coolly, as he unwound the blanket from his feet and began to pull on his socks.“Bravo, my lad!” exclaimed the accountant, patting him approvingly on the back; “I didn’t think you had half so much pluck in you. But it won’t do, old fellow. You’re inmycastle just now, and must obey orders. You couldn’t walk half a mile for your life; so just be pleased to pull off your socks again. Besides, I want Harry to help me to carry up my foxes, if there are any;—so get ready, sirrah!”“Ay, ay, captain,” cried Harry with a laugh, while he sprang up and put on his snow-shoes.“You needn’t bring your gun,” said the accountant, shaking the ashes from his pipe as he prepared to depart, “but you may as well shove that axe into your belt; you may want it—Now, mind, don’t roast your feet,” he added, turning to Hamilton.“Adieu!” cried Harry, with a nod and a smile, as he turned to go. “Take care the bears don’t find you out.”“No fear. Good-bye, Harry,” replied Hamilton, as his two friends disappeared in the wood and left him to his solitary meditations.

After quitting York Fort, the three friends followed the track leading to the spot where the winter’s firewood was cut. Snow was still falling thickly, and it was with some difficulty that the accountant kept in the right direction. The night was excessively dark, while the dense fir forest, through which the narrow road ran, rendered the gloom, if possible, more intense.

When they had proceeded about a mile, their leader suddenly came to a stand.

“We must quit the track now,” said he; “so get on your snow-shoes as fast as you can.”

Hitherto they had carried their snow-shoes under their arms, as the beaten track along which they travelled rendered them unnecessary; but now, having to leave the path and pursue the remainder of their journey through deep snow, they availed themselves of those useful machines by means of which the inhabitants of this part of North America are enabled to journey over many miles of trackless wilderness, with nearly as much ease as a sportsman can traverse the moors in autumn, and that over snow so deep that one hour’s walk through itwithoutsuch aids would completely exhaust the stoutest trapper, and advance him only a mile or so on his journey. In other words, to walk without snow-shoes would be utterly impossible, while to walk with them is easy and agreeable. They are not used, after the manner of skates, with asliding, but asteppingaction, and their sole use is to support the wearer on the top of snow, into which without them he would sink up to the waist. When we say that they support the wearer on thetopof the snow, of course we do not mean that they literally do not break the surface at all. But the depth to which they sink is comparatively trifling, and varies according to the state of the snow and the season of the year. In the woods they sink frequently about six inches, sometimes more, sometimes less; while on frozen rivers, where the snow is packed solid by the action of the wind, they sink only two or three inches, and sometimes so little as to render it preferable to walk without them altogether. Snow-shoes are made of a light, strong framework of wood, varying from three to six feet long by eighteen and twenty inches broad, tapering to a point before and behind, and turning up in front. Different tribes of Indians modify the form a little, but in all essential points they are the same. The framework is filled up with a netting of deer-skin threads, which unites lightness with great strength, and permits any snow that may chance to fall upon the netting to pass through it like a sieve.

On the present occasion, the snow, having recently fallen, was soft, and the walking, consequently, what is called heavy.

“Come on,” shouted the accountant, as he came to a stand for the third time within half an hour, to await the coming up of poor Hamilton, who, being rather awkward in snow-shoe walking even in daylight, found it nearly impossible in the dark.

“Wait a little, please,” replied a faint voice in the distance; “I’ve got among a quantity of willows, and find it very difficult to get on. I’ve been down twice al—”

The sudden cessation of the voice, and a loud crash as of breaking branches, proved too clearly that our friend had accomplished his third fall.

“There he goes again,” exclaimed Harry Somerville, who came up at the moment. “I’ve helped him up once already. We’ll never get to North River at this rate. Whatisto be done?”

“Let’s see what has become of him this time, however,” said the accountant, as he began to retrace his steps. “If I mistake not, he made rather a heavy plunge that time, judging from the sound.”

At that moment the clouds overhead broke, and a moonbeam shot down into the forest, throwing a pale light over the cold scene. A few steps brought Harry and the accountant to the spot whence the sound had proceeded, and a loud, startling laugh rang through the night air, as the latter suddenly beheld poor Hamilton struggling, with his arms, head, and shoulders stuck into the snow, his snow-shoes twisted and sticking with the heels up and awry, in a sort of rampant confusion, and his gun buried to the locks beside him. Regaining one’s perpendicular after a fall in deep snow, when the feet are encumbered by a pair of long snow-shoes, is by no means an easy thing to accomplish, in consequence of the impossibility of getting hold of anything solid on which to rest the hands. The depth is so great that the outstretched arms cannot find bottom, and every successive struggle only sinks the unhappy victim deeper down. Should no assistance be near, he will soon beat the snow to a solidity that will enable him to rise, but not in a very enviable or comfortable condition.

“Give me a hand, Harry,” gasped Hamilton, as he managed to twist his head upwards for a moment.

“Here you are,” cried Harry, holding out his hand and endeavouring to suppress his desire to laugh; “up with you,” and in another moment the poor youth was upon his legs, with every fold and crevice about his person stuffed to repletion with snow.

“Come, cheer up,” cried the accountant, giving the youth a slap on the back; “there’s nothing like experience—the proverb says that it even teaches fools, so you need not despair.”

Hamilton smiled as he endeavoured to shake off some of his white coating.

“We’ll be all right immediately,” added Harry; “I see that the country ahead is more open, so the walking will be easier.”

“Oh, I wish that I had not come!” said Hamilton, sorrowfully, “because I am only detaining you. But perhaps I shall do better as we get on. At any rate I cannot go back now, as I could never find the way.”

“Go back! of course not,” said the accountant; “in a short time we shall get into the old woodcutters’ track of last year, and although it’s not beaten at all, yet it is pretty level and open, so that we shall get on famously.”

“Go on then,” sighed Hamilton.

“Drive ahead,” laughed Harry; and without further delay they resumed their march, which was soon rendered more cheerful as the clouds rolled away, the snow ceased to fall, and the bright, full moon poured its rays down upon their path.

For a long time they proceeded in silence, the muffled sound of the snow, as it sank beneath their regular footsteps, being the only interruption to the universal stillness around. There is something very solemnising in a scene such as we are now describing—the calm tranquillity of the arctic night, the pure whiteness of the snowy carpet, which rendered the dark firs inky black by contrast; the clear, cold, starry sky, that glimmered behind the dark clouds, whose heavy masses, now rolling across the moon, partially obscured the landscape, and anon, passing slowly away, let a flood of light down upon the forest, which, penetrating between the thick branches, scattered the surface of the snow as it were with flakes of silver. Sleep has often been applied as a simile to nature in repose, but in this case death seemed more appropriate. So silent, so cold, so still was the scene, that it filled the mind with an indefinable feeling of dread, as if there was some mysterious danger near. Once or twice during their walk the three travellers paused to rest, but they spoke little, and in subdued voices, as if they feared to break the silence of the night.

“It is strange,” said Harry, in a low tone, as he walked beside Hamilton, “that such a scene as this always makes me think more than usual of home.”

“And yet it is natural,” replied the other, “because it reminds us more forcibly than any other that we are in a foreign land—in the lonely wilderness—far away from home.”

Both Harry and Hamilton had been trained in families where the Almighty was feared and loved, and where their minds had been early led to reflect upon the Creator when regarding the works of His hand: their thoughts, therefore, naturally reverted to another home, compared with which this world is indeed a cold, lonely wilderness; but on such subjects they feared to converse, partly from a dread of the ridicule of reckless companions, partly from ignorance of each other’s feelings on religious matters, and although their minds were busy their tongues were silent.

The ground over which the greater part of their path lay was a swamp, which, being now frozen, was a beautiful white plain, so that their advance was more rapid, until they approached the belt of woodland that skirts North River. Here they again encountered the heavy snow, which had been such a source of difficulty to Hamilton at setting out. He had profited by his former experience, however, and by the exercise of an excessive degree of caution managed to scramble through the woods tolerably well, emerging at last, along with his companions, on the bleak margin of what appeared to be the frozen sea.

North River, at this place, is several miles broad, and the opposite shore is so low that the snow causes it to appear but a slight undulation of the frozen bed of the river. Indeed, it would not be distinguishable at all, were it not for the willow bushes and dwarf pines, whose tops, rising above the white garb of winter, indicate thatterra firmalies below.

“What a cold, desolate-looking place!” said Hamilton, as the party stood still to recover breath before taking their way over the plain to the spot where the accountant’s traps were set. “It looks much more like the frozen sea than a river.”

“It can scarcely be called a river at this place,” remarked the accountant, “seeing that the water hereabouts is brackish, and the tides ebb and flow a good way up. In fact, this is the extreme mouth of North River; and if you turn your eyes a little to the right, towards yonder ice-hummock in the plain, you behold the frozen sea itself.”

“Where are your traps set?” inquired Harry.

“Down in the hollow, behind yon point covered with brushwood.”

“Oh, we shall soon get to them, then; come along,” cried Harry.

Harry was mistaken, however. He had not yet learned by experience the extreme difficulty of judging of distance in the uncertain light of night—a difficulty that was increased by his ignorance of the locality, and by the gleams of moonshine that shot through the driving clouds, and threw confused, fantastic shadows over the plain. The point which he had at first supposed was covered with low bushes, and about a hundred yards off, proved to be clad in reality with large bushes and small trees, and lay at a distance of two miles.

“I think you have been mistaken in supposing the point so near, Harry,” said Hamilton, as he trudged on beside his friend.

“A fact evident to the naked eye,” replied Harry. “How do your feet stand it, eh? Beginning to lose bark yet?”

Hamilton did not feel quite sure. “I think,” said he, softly, “that there is a blister under the big toe of my left foot. It feels very painful.”

“If you feel at alluncertainabout it, you may rest assured that thereisa blister. These things don’t give much pain at first. I’m sorry to tell you, my dear fellow, that you’ll be painfully aware of the fact to-morrow. However, don’t distress yourself; it’s a part of the experience that every one goes through in this country. Besides,” said Harry, smiling, “we can send to the fort for medical advice.”

“Don’t bother the poor fellow, and hold your tongue, Harry,” said the accountant, who now began to tread more cautiously as he approached the place where the traps were set.

“How many traps have you?” inquired Harry, in a low tone.

“Three,” replied the accountant.

“Do you know I have a very strange feeling about my heels—or rather a want of feeling,” said Hamilton, smiling dubiously.

“A want of feeling! what do you mean?” cried the accountant, stopping suddenly and confronting his young friend.

“Oh, I daresay it’s nothing,” he exclaimed, looking as if ashamed of having spoken of it; “only I feel exactly as if both my heels were cut off, and I were walking on tiptoe!”

“Say you so? then right about wheel. Your heels are frozen, man, and you’ll lose them if you don’t look sharp.”

“Frozen!” cried Hamilton, with a look of incredulity.

“Ay, frozen; and it’s lucky you told me. I’ve a place up in the woods here, which I call my winter camp, where we can get you put to rights. But step out; the longer we are about it the worse for you.”

Harry Somerville was at first disposed to think that the accountant jested, but seeing that he turned his back towards his traps, and made for the nearest point of the thick woods with a stride that betokened thorough sincerity, he became anxious too, and followed as fast as possible.

The place to which the accountant led his young friends was a group of fir trees which grew on a little knoll, that rose a few feet above the surrounding level country. At the foot of this hillock a small rivulet or burn ran in summer, but the only evidence of its presence now was the absence of willow bushes all along its covered narrow bed. A level tract was thus formed by nature, free from all underwood, and running inland about the distance of a mile, where it was lost in the swamp whence the stream issued. The wooded knoll or hillock lay at the mouth of this brook, and being the only elevated spot in the neighbourhood, besides having the largest trees growing on it, had been selected by the accountant as a convenient place for “camping out” on, when he visited his traps in winter, and happened to be either too late or disinclined to return home. Moreover, the spreading fir branches afforded an excellent shelter alike from wind and snow in the centre of the clump, while from the margin was obtained a partial view of the river and the sea beyond. Indeed, from this look-out there was a very fine prospect on clear winter nights of the white landscape, enlivened occasionally by groups of arctic foxes, which might be seen scampering about in sport, and gambolling among the hummocks of ice like young kittens.

“Now we shall turn up here,” said the accountant, as he walked a short way up the brook before mentioned, and halted in front of what appeared to be an impenetrable mass of bushes.

“We shall have to cut our way, then,” said Harry, looking to the right and left, in the vain hope of discovering a place where, the bushes being less dense, they might effect an entrance into the knoll or grove.

“Not so. I have taken care to make a passage into my winter camp, although it was only a whim, after all, to make a concealed entrance, seeing that no one ever passes this way except wolves and foxes, whose noses render the use of their eyes in most cases unnecessary.”

So saying, the accountant turned aside a thick branch, and disclosed a narrow track, into which he entered, followed by his two companions.

A few minutes brought them to the centre of the knoll. Here they found a clear space of about twenty feet in diameter, around which the trees circled so thickly that in daylight nothing could be seen but tree-stems as far as the eye could penetrate, while overhead the broad, flat branches of the firs, with their evergreen verdure, spread out and interlaced so thickly that very little light penetrated into the space below. Of course at night, even in moonlight, the place was pitch dark. Into this retreat the accountant led his companions, and bidding them stand still for a minute lest they should tumble into the fireplace, he proceeded to strike a light.

Those who have never travelled in the wild parts of this world can form but a faint conception of the extraordinary and sudden change that is produced, not only in the scene, but in the mind of the beholder, when a blazing fire is lighted in a dark night. Before the fire is kindled, and you stand, perhaps (as Harry and his friend did on the present occasion) shivering in the cold, the heart sinks, and sad, gloomy thoughts arise, while your eye endeavours to pierce the thick darkness, which, if it succeed in doing so, only adds to the effect by disclosing the pallid snow, the cold, chilling beams of the moon, the white vistas of savage scenery, the awe-inspiring solitudes that tell of your isolated condition, or stir up sad memories of other and far-distant scenes. But the moment the first spark of fire sends a fitful gleam of light upwards, these thoughts and feelings take wing and vanish. The indistinct scenery is rendered utterly invisible by the red light, which attracts and rivets the eye as if by a species of fascination. The deep shadows of the woods immediately around you grow deeper and blacker as the flames leap and sparkle upwards, causing the stems of the surrounding trees, and the foliage of the overhanging branches, to stand out in bold relief, bathed in a ruddy glow, which converts the forest chamber into a snug,home-likeplace, and fills the mind with agreeable,home-likefeelings and meditations. It seems as if the spirit, in the one case, were set loose and etherealised to enable it to spread itself over the plains of cold, cheerless, illimitable space, and left to dwell upon objects too wide to grasp, too indistinct to comprehend; while, in the other, it is recalled and concentrated upon matters circumscribed and congenial, things of which it has long been cognisant, and which it can appreciate and enjoy without the effort of a thought.

Some such thoughts and feelings passed rapidly through the minds of Harry and Hamilton while the accountant struck a light and kindled a roaring fire of logs, which he had cut and arranged there on a previous occasion. In the middle of the space thus brilliantly illuminated, the snow had been cleared away till the moss was uncovered, thus leaving a hole of about ten feet in diameter. As the snow was quite four feet deep, the hole was surrounded with a pure white wall, whose height was further increased by the masses thrown out in the process of digging to nearly six feet. At one end of this space was the large fire which had just been kindled, and which, owing to the intense cold, only melted a very little of the snow in its immediate neighbourhood. At the other end lay a mass of flat pine branches, which were piled up so thickly as to form a pleasant elastic couch, the upper end being slightly raised so as to form a kind of bolster, while the lower extended almost into the fire. Indeed, the branches at the extremity were burnt quite brown, and some of them charred. Beside the bolster lay a small wooden box, a round tin kettle, an iron tea-kettle, two tin mugs, a hatchet, and a large bundle tied up in a green blanket. There were thus, as it were, two apartments, one within the other—namely, the outer one, whose walls were formed of tree-stems and thick darkness, and the ceiling of green boughs; and then the inner one, with walls of snow, that sparkled in the firelight as if set with precious stones, and a carpet of evergreen branches.

Within this latter our three friends were soon actively employed. Poor Hamilton’s moccasins were speedily removed, and his friends, going down on their knees, began to rub his feet with a degree of energy that induced him to beg for mercy.

“Mercy!” exclaimed the accountant, without pausing for an instant; “faith, it’s little mercy there would be in stopping just now.—Rub away, Harry. Don’t give in. They’re coming right at last.”

After a very severe rubbing, the heels began to show symptoms of returning vitality. They were then wrapped up in the folds of a thick blanket, and held sufficiently near to the fire to prevent any chance of the frost getting at them again.

“Now, my boy,” said the accountant, as he sat down to enjoy a pipe and rest himself on a blanket, which, along with the one wrapped round Hamilton’s feet, had been extracted from the green bundle before mentioned—“now, my boy, you’ll have to enjoy yourself here as you best can for an hour or two, while Harry and I visit the traps. Would you like supper before we go, or shall we have it on our return?”

“Oh, I’ll wait for it, by all means, till you return. I don’t feel a bit hungry just now, and it will be much more cheerful to have it after all your work is over. Besides, I feel my feet too painful to enjoy it just now.”

“My poor fellow,” said Harry, whose heart smote him for having been disposed at first to treat the thing lightly, “I’m really sorry for you. Would you not like me to stay with you?”

“By no means,” replied Hamilton quickly. “You can do nothing more for me, Harry; and I should be very sorry if you missed seeing the traps.”

“Oh, never mind the traps. I’ve seen traps, and set them too, fifty times before now. I’ll stop with you, old boy, I will,” said Harry doggedly, while he made arrangements to settle down for the evening.

“Well, ifyouwon’t go, I will,” said Hamilton coolly, as he unwound the blanket from his feet and began to pull on his socks.

“Bravo, my lad!” exclaimed the accountant, patting him approvingly on the back; “I didn’t think you had half so much pluck in you. But it won’t do, old fellow. You’re inmycastle just now, and must obey orders. You couldn’t walk half a mile for your life; so just be pleased to pull off your socks again. Besides, I want Harry to help me to carry up my foxes, if there are any;—so get ready, sirrah!”

“Ay, ay, captain,” cried Harry with a laugh, while he sprang up and put on his snow-shoes.

“You needn’t bring your gun,” said the accountant, shaking the ashes from his pipe as he prepared to depart, “but you may as well shove that axe into your belt; you may want it—Now, mind, don’t roast your feet,” he added, turning to Hamilton.

“Adieu!” cried Harry, with a nod and a smile, as he turned to go. “Take care the bears don’t find you out.”

“No fear. Good-bye, Harry,” replied Hamilton, as his two friends disappeared in the wood and left him to his solitary meditations.

Chapter Nineteen.Shows how the accountant and Harry set their traps and what came of it.The moon was still up, and the sky less overcast, when our amateur trappers quitted the encampment, and descending to the mouth of the little brook, took their way over North River in the direction of the accountant’s traps. Being somewhat fatigued both in mind and body by the unusual exertions of the night, neither of them spoke for some time, but continued to walk in silence, contemplatively gazing at their long shadows.“Did you ever trap a fox, Harry?” said the accountant at length.“Yes; I used to set traps at Red River. But the foxes there are not numerous, and are so closely watched by the dogs that they have become suspicious. I caught but few.”“Then you know how toseta trap?”“Oh yes; I’ve set both steel and snow traps often. You’ve heard of old Labonté, who used to carry one of the winter packets from Red River until within a few years back?”“Yes, I’ve heard of him; his name is in my ledger—at least if you mean Pierre Labonté, who came down last fall with the brigade.”“The same. Well, he was a great friend of mine. His little cabin lay about two miles from Fort Garry, and after work was over in the office I used to go down to sit and chat with him by the fire; and many a time I have sat up half the night listening to him as he recounted his adventures. The old man never tired of relating them, and of smoking twist tobacco. Among other things, he set my mind upon trapping, by giving me an account of an expedition he made, when quite a youth, to the Rocky Mountains; so I got him to go into the woods and teach me how to set traps and snares, and I flatter myself he found me an apt pupil.”“Humph!” ejaculated the accountant; “I have no doubt you doflatteryourself. But here we are. The traps are just beyond that mound; so look out, and don’t stick your feet into them.”“Hist!” exclaimed Harry, laying his hand suddenly on his companion’s arm. “Do you seethat?” pointing towards the place where the traps were said to be.“You have sharp eyes, younker. Idosee it, now that you point it out. It’s a fox, and caught, too, as I’m a scrivener.”“You’re in luck to-night,” exclaimed Harry eagerly. “It’s asilverfox. I see the white tip on its tail.”“Nonsense,” cried the accountant, hastening forward; “but we’ll soon settle the point.”Harry proved to be right. On reaching the spot they found a beautiful black fox, caught by the fore leg in a steel trap, and gazing at them with a look of terror.The skin of the silver fox—so called from a slight sprinkling of pure white hairs covering its otherwise jet-black body—is the most valuable fur obtained by the fur-traders, and fetches an enormous price in the British market, so much as thirty pounds sterling being frequently obtained for a single skin. The foxes vary in colour from jet black, which is the most valuable, to a light silvery hue, and are hailed as great prizes by the Indians and trappers when they are so fortunate as to catch them. They are not numerous, however, and being exceedingly wary and suspicious, are difficult to catch. It may be supposed, therefore, that our friend the accountant ran to secure his prize with some eagerness.“Now, then, my beauty, don’t shrink,” he said, as the poor fox backed at his approach as far as the chain, which fastened the trap to a log of wood, would permit, and then, standing at bay, showed a formidable row of teeth. That grin was its last; another moment, and the handle of the accountant’s axe stretched it lifeless on the snow.“Isn’t it a beauty!” cried he, surveying the animal with a look of triumphant pleasure; and then feeling as if he had compromised his dignity a little by betraying so much glee, he added, “But come now, Harry; we must see to the other traps. It’s getting late.”The others were soon visited; but no more foxes were caught. However, the accountant set them both off to see that all was right; and then re-adjusting one himself, told Harry to set the other, in order to clear himself of the charge of boasting.Harry, nothing loath, went down on his knees to do so.The steel trap used for catching foxes is of exactly the same form as the ordinary rat-trap, with this difference, that it has two springs instead of one, is considerably larger, and has no teeth, as these latter would only tend to spoil the skin. Owing to the strength of the springs, a pretty strong effort is required to set the trap, and clumsy fellows frequently catch the tails of their coats or the ends of their belts, and not unfrequently the ends of their fingers, in their awkward attempts. Having set it without any of the above untoward accidents occurring, Harry placed it gently on a hole which he had previously scraped—placing it in such a manner that the jaws and plate, or trigger, were a hairbreadth below the level of the snow. After this he spread over it a very thin sheet of paper, observing as he did so that hay or grass was preferable; but as there was none at hand, paper would do. Over this he sprinkled snow very lightly, until every vestige of the trap was concealed from view, and the whole was made quite level with the surrounding plain, so that even the accountant himself, after he had once removed his eyes from it, could not tell where it lay. Some chips of a frozen ptarmigan were then scattered around the spot, and a piece of wood left to mark its whereabouts. The bait is always scatteredroundand notonthe trap, as the fox, in running from one piece to another, is almost certain to set his foot on it, and so get caught by the leg; whereas, were the bait placeduponthe trap, the fox would be apt to get caught, while in the act of eating, by the snout, which, being wedge-like in form, is easily dragged out of its gripe.“Now, then, what say you to going farther out on the river, and making a snow trap for white foxes?” said the accountant. “We shall still have time to do so before the moon sets.”“Agreed,” cried Harry. “Come along.”Without further parley they left the spot and stretched out towards the sea.The snow on the river was quite hard on its surface, so that snow-shoes being unnecessary, they carried them over their shoulders, and advanced much more rapidly. It is true that their road was a good deal broken, and jagged pieces of ice protruded their sharp corners so as to render a little attention necessary in walking; but one or two severe bumps on their toes made our friends sensitively alive to these minor dangers of the way.“There goes a pack of them!” exclaimed Harry, as a troop of white foxes scampered past, gambolling as they went, and coming suddenly to a halt at a short distance, wheeled about and sat down on their haunches, apparently resolved to have a good look at the strangers who dared to venture into their wild domain.“Oh, they are the most stupid brutes alive,” said the accountant, as he regarded the pack with a look of contempt. “I’ve seen one of them sit down and look at me while I set a trap right before his eyes; and I had not got a hundred yards from the spot when a yell informed me that the gentleman’s curiosity had led him to put his foot right into it.”“Indeed!” exclaimed Harry. “I had no idea that they were so tame. Certainly no other kind of fox would do that.”“No, that’s certain. But these fellows have done it to me again and again. I shouldn’t wonder if we got one to-night in the very same way. I’m sure, by the look of these rascals, that they would do anything of a reckless, stupid nature just now.”“Had we not better make our trap here, then? There is a point, not fifty yards off, with trees on it large enough for our purpose.”“Yes; it will do very well here. Now, then, to work. Go to the wood, Harry, and fetch a log or two, while I cut out the slabs.” So saying, the accountant drew the axe which he always carried in his belt; and while Harry entered the wood and began to hew off the branch of a tree, he proceeded, as he had said, to “cut out the slabs.” With the point of his knife he first of all marked out an oblong in the snow, then cut down three or four inches with the axe, and putting the handle under the cut, after the manner of a lever, detached a thick, solid slab of about three inches thick, which, although not so hard as ice, was quite hard enough for the purpose for which it was intended. He then cut two similar slabs and a smaller one, the same in thickness and breadth, but only half the length. Having accomplished this, he raised himself to rest a little, and observed that Harry approached, staggering under a load of wood, and that the foxes were still sitting on their haunches, gazing at him with a look of deep interest.“If I only had my gun here!” thought he. But not having it, he merely shook his fist at them, stooped down again, and resumed his work. With Harry’s assistance the slabs were placed in such a way as to form a sort of box or house, having one end of it open. This was further plastered with soft snow at the joinings, and banked up in such a way that no animal could break into it easily—at least such an attempt would be so difficult as to make an entrance into the interior by the open side much more probable. When this was finished, they took the logs that Harry had cut and carried with so much difficulty from the wood, and began to lop off the smaller branches and twigs. One large log was placed across the opening of the trap, while the others were piled on one end of it so as to press it down with their weight. Three small pieces of stick were now prepared—two of them being about half a foot long, and the other about a foot. On the long piece of stick the breast of a ptarmigan was fixed as a bait, and two notches cut, the one at the end of it, the other about four or five inches further down. All was now ready to set the trap.“Raise the log now while I place the trigger,” said Harry, kneeling down in front of the door; while the accountant, as directed, lifted up the log on which the others lay so as to allow his companion to introduce the bait-stick, in such a manner as to support it, while the slightest pull on the bait would set the stick with the notches free, and thus permit the log to fall on the back of the fox, whose effort to reach the bait would necessarily place him under it.While Harry was thus engaged, the accountant stood up and looked towards the foxes. They had approached so near in their curiosity that he was induced to throw his axe frantically at the foremost of the pack. This set them galloping off, but they soon halted, and sat down as before.“What aggravating brutes they are, to be sure!” said Harry, with a laugh, as his companion returned with the hatchet.“Humph! yes, but we’ll be upsides with them yet. Come along into the wood, and I wager that in ten minutes we shall have one.”They immediately hurried towards the wood, but had not walked fifty paces when they were startled by a loud yell behind them.“Dear me!” exclaimed the accountant, while he and Harry turned round with a start. “It cannot surely be possible that they have gone in already.” A loud howl followed the remark, and the whole pack fled over the plain like snow-drift, and disappeared.“Ah, that’s a pity! something must have scared them to make them take wing like that. However, we’ll get one to-morrow for certain; so come along, lad, let us make for the camp.”“Not so fast,” replied the other: “if you hadn’t pored over the big ledger till you were blind, you would see that there isoneprisoner already.”This proved to be the case. On returning to the spot they found an arctic fox in his last gasp, lying flat on the snow, with the heavy log across his back, which seemed to be broken. A slight tap on the snout with the accountant’s deadly axe-handle completed his destruction.“We’re in luck to-night,” cried Harry, as he kneeled again to reset the trap. “But, after all, these white brutes are worth very little; I fancy a hundred of their skins would not be worth the black one you got first.”“Be quick, Harry; the moon is almost down, and poor Hamilton will think that the polar bears have got hold of us.”“All right! Now, then, step out;” and glancing once more at the trap to see that all was properly arranged, the two friends once more turned their faces homewards, and travelled over the snow with rapid strides.The moon had just set, leaving the desolate scene in deep gloom, so that they could scarcely find their way to the forest; and when they did at last reach its shelter, the night became so intensely dark that they had almost to grope their way, and would certainly have lost it altogether were it not for the accountant’s thorough knowledge of the locality. To add to their discomfort, as they stumbled on snow began to fall, and ere long a pretty steady breeze of wind drove it sharply in their faces. However, this mattered but little, as they penetrated deeper in among the trees, which proved a complete shelter both from wind and snow. An hour’s march brought them to the mouth of the brook, although half that time would have been sufficient had it been daylight, and a few minutes later they had the satisfaction of hearing Hamilton’s voice hailing them as they pushed aside the bushes and sprang into the cheerful light of their encampment.“Hurrah!” shouted Harry, as he leaped into the space before the fire, and flung the two foxes at Hamilton’s feet. “What do you think ofthat, old fellow? How are the heels? Rather sore, eh? Now for the kettle. ‘Polly, put the kettle on; we’ll all have—’ My eye! where’s the kettle, Hamilton? have you eaten it?”“If you compose yourself a little, Harry, and look at the fire, you’ll see it boiling there.”“Man, what a chap you are for making unnecessary speeches! Couldn’t you tell me to look at the fire, without the preliminary piece of advice tocomposemyself! Besides, you talk nonsense, for I’m composed already, of blood, bones, flesh, sinews, fat, and—”“Humbug!” interrupted the accountant. “Lend a hand to get supper, you young goose!”“And so,” continued Harry, not noticing the interruption, “I cannot be expected, nor is it necessary, tocomposemyself over again. But to be serious,” he added, “it was very kind and considerate of you, Hammy, to put on the kettle, when your heels were in a manner uppermost.”“Oh, it was nothing at all; my heels are much better, thank you, and it kept me from wearying.”“Poor fellow!” said the accountant, while he busied himself in preparing their evening meal, “you must be quite ravenous by this time—at leastIam, which is the same thing.”Supper was soon ready. It consisted of a large kettle of tea, a lump of pemmican, a handful of broken biscuit, and three ptarmigan,—all of which were produced from the small wooden box which the accountant was wont to call his camp-larder. The ptarmigan had been shot two weeks before, and carefully laid up for future use; the intense frost being a sufficient guarantee for their preservation for many months, had that been desired.It would have done you good, reader (supposing you to be possessed of sympathetic feelings), to have witnessed those three nor’-westers enjoying their supper in the snowy camp. The fire had been replenished with logs, till it roared and crackled again, as if it were endued with a vicious spirit, and wished to set the very snow in flames. The walls shone like alabaster studded with diamonds, while the green boughs overhead and the stems around were of a deep red colour in the light of the fierce blaze. The tea-kettle hissed, fumed, and boiled over into the fire. A mass of pemmican simmered in the lid in front of it. Three pannikins of tea reposed on the green branches, their refreshing contents sending up little clouds of steam, while the ptarmigan, now split up, skewered, and roasted, were being heartily devoured by our three hungry friends.The pleasures that fall to the lot of man are transient. Doubtless they are numerous and oft recurring; still they are transient, and so—supper came to an end.“Now for a pipe,” said the accountant, disposing his limbs at full length on a green blanket. “O thou precious weed, what should we do without thee!”“Smoketea, to be sure,” answered Harry.“Ah! true, itispossible to exist on a pipe of tea-leaves for a time, butonlyfor a time. I tried it myself once, in desperation, when I ran short of tobacco on a journey, and found it execrable, but better than nothing.”“Pity we can’t join you in that,” remarked Harry.“True; but perhaps since you cannot pipe, it might prove an agreeable diversification to dance.”“Thank you, I’d rather not,” said Harry; “and as for Hamilton, I’m convinced thathismind is made up on the subject.—How go the heels now?”“Thank you, pretty well,” he replied, reclining his head on the pine branches, and extending his smitten members towards the fire. “I think they will be quite well in the morning.”“It is a curious thing,” remarked the accountant, in a soliloquising tone, “thatsoftfellowsneversmoke!”“I beg your pardon,” said Harry, “I’ve often seen hot loaves smoke, and they’re soft enough fellows, in all conscience!”“Ah!” sighed the accountant, “that reminds me of poor Peterkin, who wassosoft that he went by the name of ‘Butter.’ Did you ever hear of what he did the summer before last with an Indian’s head?”“No, never; what was it?”“I’ll tell you the story,” replied the accountant, drawing a few vigorous whiffs of smoke, to prevent his pipe going out while he spoke.As the story in question, however, depicts a new phase of society in the woods, it deserves a chapter to itself.

The moon was still up, and the sky less overcast, when our amateur trappers quitted the encampment, and descending to the mouth of the little brook, took their way over North River in the direction of the accountant’s traps. Being somewhat fatigued both in mind and body by the unusual exertions of the night, neither of them spoke for some time, but continued to walk in silence, contemplatively gazing at their long shadows.

“Did you ever trap a fox, Harry?” said the accountant at length.

“Yes; I used to set traps at Red River. But the foxes there are not numerous, and are so closely watched by the dogs that they have become suspicious. I caught but few.”

“Then you know how toseta trap?”

“Oh yes; I’ve set both steel and snow traps often. You’ve heard of old Labonté, who used to carry one of the winter packets from Red River until within a few years back?”

“Yes, I’ve heard of him; his name is in my ledger—at least if you mean Pierre Labonté, who came down last fall with the brigade.”

“The same. Well, he was a great friend of mine. His little cabin lay about two miles from Fort Garry, and after work was over in the office I used to go down to sit and chat with him by the fire; and many a time I have sat up half the night listening to him as he recounted his adventures. The old man never tired of relating them, and of smoking twist tobacco. Among other things, he set my mind upon trapping, by giving me an account of an expedition he made, when quite a youth, to the Rocky Mountains; so I got him to go into the woods and teach me how to set traps and snares, and I flatter myself he found me an apt pupil.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the accountant; “I have no doubt you doflatteryourself. But here we are. The traps are just beyond that mound; so look out, and don’t stick your feet into them.”

“Hist!” exclaimed Harry, laying his hand suddenly on his companion’s arm. “Do you seethat?” pointing towards the place where the traps were said to be.

“You have sharp eyes, younker. Idosee it, now that you point it out. It’s a fox, and caught, too, as I’m a scrivener.”

“You’re in luck to-night,” exclaimed Harry eagerly. “It’s asilverfox. I see the white tip on its tail.”

“Nonsense,” cried the accountant, hastening forward; “but we’ll soon settle the point.”

Harry proved to be right. On reaching the spot they found a beautiful black fox, caught by the fore leg in a steel trap, and gazing at them with a look of terror.

The skin of the silver fox—so called from a slight sprinkling of pure white hairs covering its otherwise jet-black body—is the most valuable fur obtained by the fur-traders, and fetches an enormous price in the British market, so much as thirty pounds sterling being frequently obtained for a single skin. The foxes vary in colour from jet black, which is the most valuable, to a light silvery hue, and are hailed as great prizes by the Indians and trappers when they are so fortunate as to catch them. They are not numerous, however, and being exceedingly wary and suspicious, are difficult to catch. It may be supposed, therefore, that our friend the accountant ran to secure his prize with some eagerness.

“Now, then, my beauty, don’t shrink,” he said, as the poor fox backed at his approach as far as the chain, which fastened the trap to a log of wood, would permit, and then, standing at bay, showed a formidable row of teeth. That grin was its last; another moment, and the handle of the accountant’s axe stretched it lifeless on the snow.

“Isn’t it a beauty!” cried he, surveying the animal with a look of triumphant pleasure; and then feeling as if he had compromised his dignity a little by betraying so much glee, he added, “But come now, Harry; we must see to the other traps. It’s getting late.”

The others were soon visited; but no more foxes were caught. However, the accountant set them both off to see that all was right; and then re-adjusting one himself, told Harry to set the other, in order to clear himself of the charge of boasting.

Harry, nothing loath, went down on his knees to do so.

The steel trap used for catching foxes is of exactly the same form as the ordinary rat-trap, with this difference, that it has two springs instead of one, is considerably larger, and has no teeth, as these latter would only tend to spoil the skin. Owing to the strength of the springs, a pretty strong effort is required to set the trap, and clumsy fellows frequently catch the tails of their coats or the ends of their belts, and not unfrequently the ends of their fingers, in their awkward attempts. Having set it without any of the above untoward accidents occurring, Harry placed it gently on a hole which he had previously scraped—placing it in such a manner that the jaws and plate, or trigger, were a hairbreadth below the level of the snow. After this he spread over it a very thin sheet of paper, observing as he did so that hay or grass was preferable; but as there was none at hand, paper would do. Over this he sprinkled snow very lightly, until every vestige of the trap was concealed from view, and the whole was made quite level with the surrounding plain, so that even the accountant himself, after he had once removed his eyes from it, could not tell where it lay. Some chips of a frozen ptarmigan were then scattered around the spot, and a piece of wood left to mark its whereabouts. The bait is always scatteredroundand notonthe trap, as the fox, in running from one piece to another, is almost certain to set his foot on it, and so get caught by the leg; whereas, were the bait placeduponthe trap, the fox would be apt to get caught, while in the act of eating, by the snout, which, being wedge-like in form, is easily dragged out of its gripe.

“Now, then, what say you to going farther out on the river, and making a snow trap for white foxes?” said the accountant. “We shall still have time to do so before the moon sets.”

“Agreed,” cried Harry. “Come along.”

Without further parley they left the spot and stretched out towards the sea.

The snow on the river was quite hard on its surface, so that snow-shoes being unnecessary, they carried them over their shoulders, and advanced much more rapidly. It is true that their road was a good deal broken, and jagged pieces of ice protruded their sharp corners so as to render a little attention necessary in walking; but one or two severe bumps on their toes made our friends sensitively alive to these minor dangers of the way.

“There goes a pack of them!” exclaimed Harry, as a troop of white foxes scampered past, gambolling as they went, and coming suddenly to a halt at a short distance, wheeled about and sat down on their haunches, apparently resolved to have a good look at the strangers who dared to venture into their wild domain.

“Oh, they are the most stupid brutes alive,” said the accountant, as he regarded the pack with a look of contempt. “I’ve seen one of them sit down and look at me while I set a trap right before his eyes; and I had not got a hundred yards from the spot when a yell informed me that the gentleman’s curiosity had led him to put his foot right into it.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Harry. “I had no idea that they were so tame. Certainly no other kind of fox would do that.”

“No, that’s certain. But these fellows have done it to me again and again. I shouldn’t wonder if we got one to-night in the very same way. I’m sure, by the look of these rascals, that they would do anything of a reckless, stupid nature just now.”

“Had we not better make our trap here, then? There is a point, not fifty yards off, with trees on it large enough for our purpose.”

“Yes; it will do very well here. Now, then, to work. Go to the wood, Harry, and fetch a log or two, while I cut out the slabs.” So saying, the accountant drew the axe which he always carried in his belt; and while Harry entered the wood and began to hew off the branch of a tree, he proceeded, as he had said, to “cut out the slabs.” With the point of his knife he first of all marked out an oblong in the snow, then cut down three or four inches with the axe, and putting the handle under the cut, after the manner of a lever, detached a thick, solid slab of about three inches thick, which, although not so hard as ice, was quite hard enough for the purpose for which it was intended. He then cut two similar slabs and a smaller one, the same in thickness and breadth, but only half the length. Having accomplished this, he raised himself to rest a little, and observed that Harry approached, staggering under a load of wood, and that the foxes were still sitting on their haunches, gazing at him with a look of deep interest.

“If I only had my gun here!” thought he. But not having it, he merely shook his fist at them, stooped down again, and resumed his work. With Harry’s assistance the slabs were placed in such a way as to form a sort of box or house, having one end of it open. This was further plastered with soft snow at the joinings, and banked up in such a way that no animal could break into it easily—at least such an attempt would be so difficult as to make an entrance into the interior by the open side much more probable. When this was finished, they took the logs that Harry had cut and carried with so much difficulty from the wood, and began to lop off the smaller branches and twigs. One large log was placed across the opening of the trap, while the others were piled on one end of it so as to press it down with their weight. Three small pieces of stick were now prepared—two of them being about half a foot long, and the other about a foot. On the long piece of stick the breast of a ptarmigan was fixed as a bait, and two notches cut, the one at the end of it, the other about four or five inches further down. All was now ready to set the trap.

“Raise the log now while I place the trigger,” said Harry, kneeling down in front of the door; while the accountant, as directed, lifted up the log on which the others lay so as to allow his companion to introduce the bait-stick, in such a manner as to support it, while the slightest pull on the bait would set the stick with the notches free, and thus permit the log to fall on the back of the fox, whose effort to reach the bait would necessarily place him under it.

While Harry was thus engaged, the accountant stood up and looked towards the foxes. They had approached so near in their curiosity that he was induced to throw his axe frantically at the foremost of the pack. This set them galloping off, but they soon halted, and sat down as before.

“What aggravating brutes they are, to be sure!” said Harry, with a laugh, as his companion returned with the hatchet.

“Humph! yes, but we’ll be upsides with them yet. Come along into the wood, and I wager that in ten minutes we shall have one.”

They immediately hurried towards the wood, but had not walked fifty paces when they were startled by a loud yell behind them.

“Dear me!” exclaimed the accountant, while he and Harry turned round with a start. “It cannot surely be possible that they have gone in already.” A loud howl followed the remark, and the whole pack fled over the plain like snow-drift, and disappeared.

“Ah, that’s a pity! something must have scared them to make them take wing like that. However, we’ll get one to-morrow for certain; so come along, lad, let us make for the camp.”

“Not so fast,” replied the other: “if you hadn’t pored over the big ledger till you were blind, you would see that there isoneprisoner already.”

This proved to be the case. On returning to the spot they found an arctic fox in his last gasp, lying flat on the snow, with the heavy log across his back, which seemed to be broken. A slight tap on the snout with the accountant’s deadly axe-handle completed his destruction.

“We’re in luck to-night,” cried Harry, as he kneeled again to reset the trap. “But, after all, these white brutes are worth very little; I fancy a hundred of their skins would not be worth the black one you got first.”

“Be quick, Harry; the moon is almost down, and poor Hamilton will think that the polar bears have got hold of us.”

“All right! Now, then, step out;” and glancing once more at the trap to see that all was properly arranged, the two friends once more turned their faces homewards, and travelled over the snow with rapid strides.

The moon had just set, leaving the desolate scene in deep gloom, so that they could scarcely find their way to the forest; and when they did at last reach its shelter, the night became so intensely dark that they had almost to grope their way, and would certainly have lost it altogether were it not for the accountant’s thorough knowledge of the locality. To add to their discomfort, as they stumbled on snow began to fall, and ere long a pretty steady breeze of wind drove it sharply in their faces. However, this mattered but little, as they penetrated deeper in among the trees, which proved a complete shelter both from wind and snow. An hour’s march brought them to the mouth of the brook, although half that time would have been sufficient had it been daylight, and a few minutes later they had the satisfaction of hearing Hamilton’s voice hailing them as they pushed aside the bushes and sprang into the cheerful light of their encampment.

“Hurrah!” shouted Harry, as he leaped into the space before the fire, and flung the two foxes at Hamilton’s feet. “What do you think ofthat, old fellow? How are the heels? Rather sore, eh? Now for the kettle. ‘Polly, put the kettle on; we’ll all have—’ My eye! where’s the kettle, Hamilton? have you eaten it?”

“If you compose yourself a little, Harry, and look at the fire, you’ll see it boiling there.”

“Man, what a chap you are for making unnecessary speeches! Couldn’t you tell me to look at the fire, without the preliminary piece of advice tocomposemyself! Besides, you talk nonsense, for I’m composed already, of blood, bones, flesh, sinews, fat, and—”

“Humbug!” interrupted the accountant. “Lend a hand to get supper, you young goose!”

“And so,” continued Harry, not noticing the interruption, “I cannot be expected, nor is it necessary, tocomposemyself over again. But to be serious,” he added, “it was very kind and considerate of you, Hammy, to put on the kettle, when your heels were in a manner uppermost.”

“Oh, it was nothing at all; my heels are much better, thank you, and it kept me from wearying.”

“Poor fellow!” said the accountant, while he busied himself in preparing their evening meal, “you must be quite ravenous by this time—at leastIam, which is the same thing.”

Supper was soon ready. It consisted of a large kettle of tea, a lump of pemmican, a handful of broken biscuit, and three ptarmigan,—all of which were produced from the small wooden box which the accountant was wont to call his camp-larder. The ptarmigan had been shot two weeks before, and carefully laid up for future use; the intense frost being a sufficient guarantee for their preservation for many months, had that been desired.

It would have done you good, reader (supposing you to be possessed of sympathetic feelings), to have witnessed those three nor’-westers enjoying their supper in the snowy camp. The fire had been replenished with logs, till it roared and crackled again, as if it were endued with a vicious spirit, and wished to set the very snow in flames. The walls shone like alabaster studded with diamonds, while the green boughs overhead and the stems around were of a deep red colour in the light of the fierce blaze. The tea-kettle hissed, fumed, and boiled over into the fire. A mass of pemmican simmered in the lid in front of it. Three pannikins of tea reposed on the green branches, their refreshing contents sending up little clouds of steam, while the ptarmigan, now split up, skewered, and roasted, were being heartily devoured by our three hungry friends.

The pleasures that fall to the lot of man are transient. Doubtless they are numerous and oft recurring; still they are transient, and so—supper came to an end.

“Now for a pipe,” said the accountant, disposing his limbs at full length on a green blanket. “O thou precious weed, what should we do without thee!”

“Smoketea, to be sure,” answered Harry.

“Ah! true, itispossible to exist on a pipe of tea-leaves for a time, butonlyfor a time. I tried it myself once, in desperation, when I ran short of tobacco on a journey, and found it execrable, but better than nothing.”

“Pity we can’t join you in that,” remarked Harry.

“True; but perhaps since you cannot pipe, it might prove an agreeable diversification to dance.”

“Thank you, I’d rather not,” said Harry; “and as for Hamilton, I’m convinced thathismind is made up on the subject.—How go the heels now?”

“Thank you, pretty well,” he replied, reclining his head on the pine branches, and extending his smitten members towards the fire. “I think they will be quite well in the morning.”

“It is a curious thing,” remarked the accountant, in a soliloquising tone, “thatsoftfellowsneversmoke!”

“I beg your pardon,” said Harry, “I’ve often seen hot loaves smoke, and they’re soft enough fellows, in all conscience!”

“Ah!” sighed the accountant, “that reminds me of poor Peterkin, who wassosoft that he went by the name of ‘Butter.’ Did you ever hear of what he did the summer before last with an Indian’s head?”

“No, never; what was it?”

“I’ll tell you the story,” replied the accountant, drawing a few vigorous whiffs of smoke, to prevent his pipe going out while he spoke.

As the story in question, however, depicts a new phase of society in the woods, it deserves a chapter to itself.

Chapter Twenty.The accountant’s story.“Spring had passed away, and York Fort was filled with all the bustle and activity of summer. Brigades came pouring in upon us with furs from the interior, and as every boat brought a CT or a clerk, our mess-table began to overflow.“You’ve not seen the summer mess-room filled yet, Hamilton. That’s a treat in store for you.”“It was pretty full last autumn, I think,” suggested Hamilton, “at the time I arrived from England.”“Full! why, man, it was getting to feel quite lonely at that time. I’ve seen more than fifty sit down to table there, and it was worth going fifty miles to hear the row they kicked up—telling stories without end (and sometimes without foundation) about their wild doings in the interior, where every man-jack of them having spent at least eight months almost in perfect solitude, they hadn’t had a chance of letting their tongues go till they came down here. But to proceed. When the ship came out in the fall, she brought a batch of new clerks, and among them was this miserable chap Peterkin, whom we soon nicknamedButter. He was the softest fellow I ever knew (far worse than you, Hamilton), and he hadn’t been here a week before the wild blades from the interior, who were bursting with fun and mischief, began to play off all kinds of practical jokes upon him. The very first day he sat down at the mess-table, our worthy governor (who, you are aware, detests practical jokes) played him a trick, quite unintentionally, which raised a laugh against him for many a day. You know that old Mr Rogan is rather absent at times; well, the first day that Peterkin came to mess (it was breakfast), the old governor asked him, in a patronising sort of way, to sit at his right hand. Accordingly down he sat, and having never, I fancy, been away from his mother’s apron-string before, he seemed to feel very uncomfortable, especially as he was regarded as a sort of novelty. The first thing he did was to capsize his plate into his lap, which set the youngsters at the lower end of the table into suppressed fits of laughter. However, he was eating the leg of a dry grouse at the time, so it didn’t make much of a mess.“‘Try some fish, Peterkin,’ said Mr Rogan kindly, seeing that the youth was ill at ease. ‘That old grouse is tough enough to break your knife.’“‘A very rough passage,’ replied the youngster, whose mind was quite confused by hearing the captain of the ship, who sat next to him, giving to his next neighbour a graphic account of the voyage in a very loud key—‘I mean, if you please, no, thank you,’ he stammered, endeavouring to correct himself.“‘Ah! a cup of tea perhaps.—Here, Anderson,’ (turning to the butler), ‘a cup of tea to Mr Peterkin.’“The butler obeyed the order.“‘And here, fill my cup,’ said old Rogan, interrupting himself in an earnest conversation, into which he had plunged with the gentleman on his left hand. As he said this he lifted his cup to empty the slops, but without paying attention to what he was doing. As luck would have it, the slop-basin was not at hand, and Peterkin’s cupwas, so he emptied it innocently into that. Peterkin hadn’t courage to arrest his hand, and when the deed was done he looked timidly round to see if the action had been observed. Nearly half the table had seen it, but they pretended ignorance of the thing so well that he thought no one had observed, and so went quietly on with his breakfast, and drank the tea! But I am wandering from my story. Well, about this time there was a young Indian who shot himself accidentally in the woods, and was brought to the fort to see if anything could be done for him. The doctor examined his wound, and found that the ball had passed through the upper part of his right arm and the middle of his right thigh, breaking the bone of the latter in its passage. It was an extraordinary shot for a man to put into himself, for it would have been next to impossible even foranotherman to have done it, unless the Indian had been creeping on all fours. When he was able to speak, however, he explained the mystery. While running through a rough part of the wood after a wounded bird, he stumbled and fell on all fours. The gun, which he was carrying over his shoulder, holding it, as the Indians usually do, by the muzzle, flew forward, and turned right round as he fell, so that the mouth of it was presented towards him. Striking against the stem of a tree, it exploded, and shot him through the arm and leg as described ere he had time to rise. A comrade carried him to his lodge, and his wife brought him in a canoe to the fort. For three or four days the doctor had hopes of him, but at last he began to sink, and died on the sixth day after his arrival. His wife and one or two friends buried him in our graveyard, which lies, as you know, on that lonely-looking point just below the powder-magazine. For several months previous to this our worthy doctor had been making strenuous efforts to get an Indian skull to send home to one of his medical friends, but without success. The Indians could not be prevailed upon to cut off the head of one of their dead countrymen for love or money, and the doctor had a dislike to the idea, I suppose, of killing one for himself; but now here was a golden opportunity. The Indian was buried near to the fort, and his relatives had gone away to their tents again. What was to prevent his being dug up? The doctor brooded over the thing for one hour and a half (being exactly the length of time required to smoke out his large Turkey pipe), and then sauntered into Wilson’s room. Wilson was busy, as usual, at some of his mechanical contrivances.“Thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets and seating himself on an old sea-chest, he began,—“‘I say, Wilson, will you do me a favour?’“‘That depends entirely on what the favour is,’ he replied, without raising his head from his work.“‘I want you to help me to cut off an Indian’s head!’“‘Then Iwon’tdo you the favour. But pray, don’t humbug me just now; I’m busy.’“‘No; but I’m serious, and I can’t get it done without help, and I know you’re an obliging fellow. Besides, the savage is dead, and has no manner of use for his head now.’“Wilson turned round with a look of intelligence on hearing this.“‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, ‘I see what you’re up to; but I don’t half like it. In the first place, his friends would be terribly cut up if they heard of it; and then I’ve no sort of aptitude for the work of a resurrectionist; and then, if it got wind, we should never hear the last of it; and then—’“‘And then,’ interrupted the doctor, ‘it would be adding to the light of medical science, you unaspiring monster.’“‘A light,’ retorted Wilson, ‘which, in passing throughsomemembers of the medical profession, is totally absorbed, and reproduced in the shape of impenetrable darkness.’“‘Now, don’t object, my dear fellow; youknowyou’re going to do it, so don’t coquette with me, but agree at once.’“‘Well, I consent, upon one condition.’“‘And what is that?’“‘That you do not play any practical jokes onmewith the head when you have got it.’“‘Agreed!’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘I give you my word of honour. Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he’ll keep for some time yet.’“The two worthies then entered into a deep consultation as to how they were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson should take his gun and sally forth a little before dark, as if he were bent on an hour’s sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr Wilson, true to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth.“It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But Wilson’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when superstition comes into play. However, he trudged along fearlessly enough till he came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which he entered with something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the narrow track that leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the post that stands there, but which, in his trepidation, he had entirely forgotten. This quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, and he has since confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting with the doctor in a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled atthatmoment.“Recovering a little from this accident, he hurried forward, but with more caution; for although the night seemed as dark as could possibly be while he was crossing the open country, it became speedily evident that there were several shades of darkness which he had not yet conceived. In a few minutes he came to the creek that runs past the graveyard, and here again his nerves got another shake; for slipping his foot while in the act of commencing the descent, he fell and rolled heavily to the bottom, making noise enough in his fall to scare away all the ghosts in the country. With a palpitating heart poor Wilson gathered himself up, and searched for his gun, which fortunately had not been injured, and then commenced to climb the opposite bank, starting at every twig that snapped under his feet. On reaching the level ground again he breathed a little more freely, and hurried forward with more speed than caution. Suddenly he came into violent contact with a figure, which uttered a loud growl as Wilson reeled backwards.“‘Back, you monster,’ he cried, with a hysterical yell, ‘or I’ll blow your brains out!’“‘It’s little goodthatwould do ye,’ cried the doctor, as he came forward. ‘Why, you stupid, what did you take me for? You’ve nearly knocked out my brains as it is,’ and the doctor rubbed his forehead ruefully.“‘Oh, it’syou, doctor!’ said Wilson, feeling as if a ton weight had been lifted off his heart; ‘I verily thought it was the ghost of the poor fellow we’re going to disturb. I do think you had better give it up. Mischief will come of it, you’ll see.’“‘Nonsense,’ cried the doctor; ‘don’t be a goose, but let’s to work at once. Why, I’ve got half the thing dug up already.’ So saying, he led the way to the grave, in which there was a large opening. Setting the lantern down by the side of it, the two seized their spades and began to dig as if in earnest.“The fact is that the doctor was nearly as frightened as Wilson, and he afterwards confessed to me that it was an immense relief to him when he heard him fall down the bank of the creek, and knew by the growl he gave that it was he.“In about half an hour the doctor’s spade struck upon the coffin lid, which gave forth a hollow sound.“‘Now, then, we’re about done with it,’ said he, standing up to wipe away the perspiration that trickled down his face. ‘Take the axe and force up the lid, it’s only fixed with common nails, while I—’ He did not finish the sentence, but drew a large scalping-knife from a sheath which hung at his belt.“Wilson shuddered and obeyed. A good wrench caused the lid to start, and while he held it partially open the doctor inserted the knife. For five minutes he continued to twist and work with his arms, muttering between his teeth, every now and then, that he was a ‘tough subject,’ while the crackling of bones, and other disagreeable sounds, struck upon the horrified ears of his companion.“‘All right,’ he exclaimed at last, as he dragged a round object from the coffin and let down the lid with a bang, at the same time placing the savage’s head with its ghastly features full in the blaze of the lantern.“‘Now, then, close up,’ said he, jumping out of the hole and shovelling in the earth.“In a few minutes they had filled the grave up and smoothed it down on the surface, and then, throwing the head into the game-bag, retraced their steps to the fort. Their nerves were by this time worked up to such a pitch of excitement, and their minds filled with such a degree of supernatural horror, that they tripped and stumbled over stumps and branches innumerable in their double-quick march. Neither would confess to the other, however, that he was afraid. They even attempted to pass a few facetious remarks as they hurried along, but it would not do, so they relapsed into silence till they came to the hollow beside the powder-magazine. Here the doctor’s foot happening to slip, he suddenly grasped Wilson by the shoulder to support himself—a movement which, being unexpected, made his friend leap, as he afterwards expressed it, nearly out of his skin. This was almost too much for them. For a moment they looked at each other as well as the darkness would permit, when all at once a large stone, which the doctor’s slip had overbalanced, fell down the bank and through the bushes with a loud crash. Nothing more was wanting. All further effort to disguise their feelings was dropped. Leaping the rail of the open field in a twinkling, they gave a simultaneous yell of consternation, and fled to the fort like autumn leaves before the wind, never drawing breath till they were safe within the pickets.”“But what has all this to do with Peterkin?” asked Harry, as the accountant paused to relight his pipe and toss a fresh log on the fire.“Have patience, lad; you shall hear.”The accountant stirred the logs with his toe, drew a few whiffs to see that the pipe was properly ignited, and proceeded.“For a day or two after this, the doctor was observed to be often mysteriously engaged in an outhouse of which he kept the key. By some means or other, the skipper, who is always up to mischief, managed to discover the secret. Watching where the doctor hid the key, he possessed himself of it one day, and sallied forth, bent on a lark of some kind or other, but without very well knowing what. Passing the kitchen, he observed Anderson, the butler, raking the fire out of the large oven which stands in the back-yard.“‘Baking again, Anderson?’ said he in passing. ‘You get soon through with a heavy cargo of bread just now.’“‘Yes, sir; many mouths to feed, sir,’ replied the butler, proceeding with his work.“The skipper sauntered on, and took the track which leads to the boat-house, where he stood for some time in meditation. Casting up his eyes, he saw Peterkin in the distance, looking as if he didn’t very well know what to do.“A sudden thought struck him. Pulling off his coat, he seized a mallet and a caulking-chisel, and began to belabour the side of a boat as if his life depended on it. All at once he stopped and stood up, blowing with the exertion.“‘Hollo, Peterkin!’ he shouted, and waved his hand.“Peterkin hastened towards him.“‘Well, sir,’ said he, ‘do you wish to speak to me?’“‘Yes,’ replied the skipper, scratching his head as if in great perplexity. ‘I wish you to do me a favour, Peterkin, but I don’t know very well how to ask you.’“‘Oh, I shall be most happy,’ said poor Butter eagerly, ‘if I can be of any use to you.’“‘I don’t doubt your willingness,’ replied the other; ‘but then—the doctor, you see—the fact is, Peterkin, the doctor being called away to see a sick Indian, has entrusted me with a delicate piece of business—rather a nasty piece of business, I may say—which I promised to do for him. You must know that the Surgical Society of London has written to him, begging, as a great favour, that he would, if possible, procure them the skull of a native. After much trouble he has succeeded in getting one, but is obliged to keep it a great secret, even from his fellow-clerks, lest it should get wind; for if the Indians heard of it they would be sure to kill him, and perhaps burn the fort too. Now I suppose you are aware that it is necessary to boil an Indian’s head in order to get the flesh clean off the skull?’“‘Yes; I have heard something of that sort from the students at college, who say that boiling brings flesh more easily away from the bone. But I don’t know much about it,’ replied Peterkin.“‘Well,’ continued the skipper, ‘the doctor, who is fond of experiments, wishes to try whetherbakingwon’t do better thanboiling, and ordered the oven to be heated for that purpose this morning; but being called suddenly away, as I have said, he begged me to put the head into it as soon as it was ready. I agreed, quite forgetting at the time that I had to get this precious boat ready for sea this very afternoon. Now the oven is prepared, and I dare not leave my work; indeed, I doubt whether I shall have it quite ready and taut after all, and there’s the oven cooling; so, if you don’t help me, I’m a lost man.’“Having said this, the skipper looked as miserable as his jolly visage would permit, and rubbed his nose.“‘Oh, I’ll be happy to do it for you, although it is not an agreeable job,’ replied Butter.“‘That’s right—that’s friendly now!’ exclaimed the skipper, as if greatly relieved. ‘Give us your flipper, my lad;’ and seizing Peterkin’s hand, he wrung it affectionately. ‘Now, here is the key of the outhouse; do it as quickly as you can, and don’t let any one see you. It’s in a good cause, you know, but the results might be terrible if discovered.’“So saying, the skipper fell to hammering the boat again with surprising vigour till Butter was out of sight, and then resuming his coat, returned to the house.“An hour after this, Anderson went to take his loaves out of the oven; but he had no sooner taken down the door than a rich odour of cooked meat greeted his nostrils. Uttering a deep growl, the butler shouted out, ‘Sprat!’“Upon this, a very thin boy, with arms and legs like pipe stems, issued from the kitchen, and came timidly towards his master.“‘Didn’t I tell you, you young blackguard, that the grouse-pie was to be kept for Sunday? and there you’ve gone and put it to fire to-day.’“‘The grouse-pie!’ said the boy, in amazement.“‘Yes, the grouse-pie,’ retorted the indignant butler; and seizing the urchin by the neck, he held his head down to the mouth of the oven.“‘Smellthat, you villain! What did you mean by it, eh?’“‘Oh, murder!’ shouted the boy, as with a violent effort he freed himself, and ran shrieking into the house.“‘Murder!’ repeated Anderson in astonishment, while he stooped to look into the oven, where the first thing that met his gaze was a human head, whose ghastly visage and staring eyeballs worked and moved about under the influence of the heat as if it were alive.“With a yell that rang through the whole fort, the horrified butler rushed through the kitchen and out at the front door, where, as ill-luck would have it, Mr Rogan happened to be standing at the moment. Pitching head first into the small of the old gentleman’s back, he threw him off the platform and fell into his arms. Starting up in a moment, the governor dealt Anderson a cuff that sent him reeling towards the kitchen door again, on the steps of which he sat down, and began to sing out, ‘Oh, murder, murder! the oven, the oven!’ and not another word, bad, good, or indifferent, could be got out of him for the next half-hour, as he swayed himself to and fro and wrung his hands.“To make a long story short, Mr Rogan went himself to the oven, and fished out the head, along with the loaves, which were, of course, all spoiled.”“And what was the result?” inquired Harry.“Oh, there was a long investigation, and the skipper got a blowing-up, and the doctor a warning to let Indians’ skulls lie at peace in their graves for the future; and poor Butter was sent to McKenzie’s River as a punishment, for old Rogan could never be brought to believe that he hadn’t been a willing tool in the skipper’s hands; and Anderson lost his batch of bread and his oven, for it had to be pulled down and a new one built.”“Humph! and I’ve no doubt the governor read you a pretty stiff lecture on practical joking.”“He did,” replied the accountant, laying aside his pipe, and drawing the green blanket over him, while Harry piled several large logs on the fire.“Good-night,” said the accountant.“Good-night,” replied his companions; and in a few minutes more they were sound asleep in their snowy camp, while the huge fire continued, during the greater part of the night, to cast its light on their slumbering forms.

“Spring had passed away, and York Fort was filled with all the bustle and activity of summer. Brigades came pouring in upon us with furs from the interior, and as every boat brought a CT or a clerk, our mess-table began to overflow.

“You’ve not seen the summer mess-room filled yet, Hamilton. That’s a treat in store for you.”

“It was pretty full last autumn, I think,” suggested Hamilton, “at the time I arrived from England.”

“Full! why, man, it was getting to feel quite lonely at that time. I’ve seen more than fifty sit down to table there, and it was worth going fifty miles to hear the row they kicked up—telling stories without end (and sometimes without foundation) about their wild doings in the interior, where every man-jack of them having spent at least eight months almost in perfect solitude, they hadn’t had a chance of letting their tongues go till they came down here. But to proceed. When the ship came out in the fall, she brought a batch of new clerks, and among them was this miserable chap Peterkin, whom we soon nicknamedButter. He was the softest fellow I ever knew (far worse than you, Hamilton), and he hadn’t been here a week before the wild blades from the interior, who were bursting with fun and mischief, began to play off all kinds of practical jokes upon him. The very first day he sat down at the mess-table, our worthy governor (who, you are aware, detests practical jokes) played him a trick, quite unintentionally, which raised a laugh against him for many a day. You know that old Mr Rogan is rather absent at times; well, the first day that Peterkin came to mess (it was breakfast), the old governor asked him, in a patronising sort of way, to sit at his right hand. Accordingly down he sat, and having never, I fancy, been away from his mother’s apron-string before, he seemed to feel very uncomfortable, especially as he was regarded as a sort of novelty. The first thing he did was to capsize his plate into his lap, which set the youngsters at the lower end of the table into suppressed fits of laughter. However, he was eating the leg of a dry grouse at the time, so it didn’t make much of a mess.

“‘Try some fish, Peterkin,’ said Mr Rogan kindly, seeing that the youth was ill at ease. ‘That old grouse is tough enough to break your knife.’

“‘A very rough passage,’ replied the youngster, whose mind was quite confused by hearing the captain of the ship, who sat next to him, giving to his next neighbour a graphic account of the voyage in a very loud key—‘I mean, if you please, no, thank you,’ he stammered, endeavouring to correct himself.

“‘Ah! a cup of tea perhaps.—Here, Anderson,’ (turning to the butler), ‘a cup of tea to Mr Peterkin.’

“The butler obeyed the order.

“‘And here, fill my cup,’ said old Rogan, interrupting himself in an earnest conversation, into which he had plunged with the gentleman on his left hand. As he said this he lifted his cup to empty the slops, but without paying attention to what he was doing. As luck would have it, the slop-basin was not at hand, and Peterkin’s cupwas, so he emptied it innocently into that. Peterkin hadn’t courage to arrest his hand, and when the deed was done he looked timidly round to see if the action had been observed. Nearly half the table had seen it, but they pretended ignorance of the thing so well that he thought no one had observed, and so went quietly on with his breakfast, and drank the tea! But I am wandering from my story. Well, about this time there was a young Indian who shot himself accidentally in the woods, and was brought to the fort to see if anything could be done for him. The doctor examined his wound, and found that the ball had passed through the upper part of his right arm and the middle of his right thigh, breaking the bone of the latter in its passage. It was an extraordinary shot for a man to put into himself, for it would have been next to impossible even foranotherman to have done it, unless the Indian had been creeping on all fours. When he was able to speak, however, he explained the mystery. While running through a rough part of the wood after a wounded bird, he stumbled and fell on all fours. The gun, which he was carrying over his shoulder, holding it, as the Indians usually do, by the muzzle, flew forward, and turned right round as he fell, so that the mouth of it was presented towards him. Striking against the stem of a tree, it exploded, and shot him through the arm and leg as described ere he had time to rise. A comrade carried him to his lodge, and his wife brought him in a canoe to the fort. For three or four days the doctor had hopes of him, but at last he began to sink, and died on the sixth day after his arrival. His wife and one or two friends buried him in our graveyard, which lies, as you know, on that lonely-looking point just below the powder-magazine. For several months previous to this our worthy doctor had been making strenuous efforts to get an Indian skull to send home to one of his medical friends, but without success. The Indians could not be prevailed upon to cut off the head of one of their dead countrymen for love or money, and the doctor had a dislike to the idea, I suppose, of killing one for himself; but now here was a golden opportunity. The Indian was buried near to the fort, and his relatives had gone away to their tents again. What was to prevent his being dug up? The doctor brooded over the thing for one hour and a half (being exactly the length of time required to smoke out his large Turkey pipe), and then sauntered into Wilson’s room. Wilson was busy, as usual, at some of his mechanical contrivances.

“Thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets and seating himself on an old sea-chest, he began,—

“‘I say, Wilson, will you do me a favour?’

“‘That depends entirely on what the favour is,’ he replied, without raising his head from his work.

“‘I want you to help me to cut off an Indian’s head!’

“‘Then Iwon’tdo you the favour. But pray, don’t humbug me just now; I’m busy.’

“‘No; but I’m serious, and I can’t get it done without help, and I know you’re an obliging fellow. Besides, the savage is dead, and has no manner of use for his head now.’

“Wilson turned round with a look of intelligence on hearing this.

“‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, ‘I see what you’re up to; but I don’t half like it. In the first place, his friends would be terribly cut up if they heard of it; and then I’ve no sort of aptitude for the work of a resurrectionist; and then, if it got wind, we should never hear the last of it; and then—’

“‘And then,’ interrupted the doctor, ‘it would be adding to the light of medical science, you unaspiring monster.’

“‘A light,’ retorted Wilson, ‘which, in passing throughsomemembers of the medical profession, is totally absorbed, and reproduced in the shape of impenetrable darkness.’

“‘Now, don’t object, my dear fellow; youknowyou’re going to do it, so don’t coquette with me, but agree at once.’

“‘Well, I consent, upon one condition.’

“‘And what is that?’

“‘That you do not play any practical jokes onmewith the head when you have got it.’

“‘Agreed!’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘I give you my word of honour. Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he’ll keep for some time yet.’

“The two worthies then entered into a deep consultation as to how they were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson should take his gun and sally forth a little before dark, as if he were bent on an hour’s sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr Wilson, true to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth.

“It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But Wilson’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when superstition comes into play. However, he trudged along fearlessly enough till he came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which he entered with something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the narrow track that leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the post that stands there, but which, in his trepidation, he had entirely forgotten. This quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, and he has since confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting with the doctor in a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled atthatmoment.

“Recovering a little from this accident, he hurried forward, but with more caution; for although the night seemed as dark as could possibly be while he was crossing the open country, it became speedily evident that there were several shades of darkness which he had not yet conceived. In a few minutes he came to the creek that runs past the graveyard, and here again his nerves got another shake; for slipping his foot while in the act of commencing the descent, he fell and rolled heavily to the bottom, making noise enough in his fall to scare away all the ghosts in the country. With a palpitating heart poor Wilson gathered himself up, and searched for his gun, which fortunately had not been injured, and then commenced to climb the opposite bank, starting at every twig that snapped under his feet. On reaching the level ground again he breathed a little more freely, and hurried forward with more speed than caution. Suddenly he came into violent contact with a figure, which uttered a loud growl as Wilson reeled backwards.

“‘Back, you monster,’ he cried, with a hysterical yell, ‘or I’ll blow your brains out!’

“‘It’s little goodthatwould do ye,’ cried the doctor, as he came forward. ‘Why, you stupid, what did you take me for? You’ve nearly knocked out my brains as it is,’ and the doctor rubbed his forehead ruefully.

“‘Oh, it’syou, doctor!’ said Wilson, feeling as if a ton weight had been lifted off his heart; ‘I verily thought it was the ghost of the poor fellow we’re going to disturb. I do think you had better give it up. Mischief will come of it, you’ll see.’

“‘Nonsense,’ cried the doctor; ‘don’t be a goose, but let’s to work at once. Why, I’ve got half the thing dug up already.’ So saying, he led the way to the grave, in which there was a large opening. Setting the lantern down by the side of it, the two seized their spades and began to dig as if in earnest.

“The fact is that the doctor was nearly as frightened as Wilson, and he afterwards confessed to me that it was an immense relief to him when he heard him fall down the bank of the creek, and knew by the growl he gave that it was he.

“In about half an hour the doctor’s spade struck upon the coffin lid, which gave forth a hollow sound.

“‘Now, then, we’re about done with it,’ said he, standing up to wipe away the perspiration that trickled down his face. ‘Take the axe and force up the lid, it’s only fixed with common nails, while I—’ He did not finish the sentence, but drew a large scalping-knife from a sheath which hung at his belt.

“Wilson shuddered and obeyed. A good wrench caused the lid to start, and while he held it partially open the doctor inserted the knife. For five minutes he continued to twist and work with his arms, muttering between his teeth, every now and then, that he was a ‘tough subject,’ while the crackling of bones, and other disagreeable sounds, struck upon the horrified ears of his companion.

“‘All right,’ he exclaimed at last, as he dragged a round object from the coffin and let down the lid with a bang, at the same time placing the savage’s head with its ghastly features full in the blaze of the lantern.

“‘Now, then, close up,’ said he, jumping out of the hole and shovelling in the earth.

“In a few minutes they had filled the grave up and smoothed it down on the surface, and then, throwing the head into the game-bag, retraced their steps to the fort. Their nerves were by this time worked up to such a pitch of excitement, and their minds filled with such a degree of supernatural horror, that they tripped and stumbled over stumps and branches innumerable in their double-quick march. Neither would confess to the other, however, that he was afraid. They even attempted to pass a few facetious remarks as they hurried along, but it would not do, so they relapsed into silence till they came to the hollow beside the powder-magazine. Here the doctor’s foot happening to slip, he suddenly grasped Wilson by the shoulder to support himself—a movement which, being unexpected, made his friend leap, as he afterwards expressed it, nearly out of his skin. This was almost too much for them. For a moment they looked at each other as well as the darkness would permit, when all at once a large stone, which the doctor’s slip had overbalanced, fell down the bank and through the bushes with a loud crash. Nothing more was wanting. All further effort to disguise their feelings was dropped. Leaping the rail of the open field in a twinkling, they gave a simultaneous yell of consternation, and fled to the fort like autumn leaves before the wind, never drawing breath till they were safe within the pickets.”

“But what has all this to do with Peterkin?” asked Harry, as the accountant paused to relight his pipe and toss a fresh log on the fire.

“Have patience, lad; you shall hear.”

The accountant stirred the logs with his toe, drew a few whiffs to see that the pipe was properly ignited, and proceeded.

“For a day or two after this, the doctor was observed to be often mysteriously engaged in an outhouse of which he kept the key. By some means or other, the skipper, who is always up to mischief, managed to discover the secret. Watching where the doctor hid the key, he possessed himself of it one day, and sallied forth, bent on a lark of some kind or other, but without very well knowing what. Passing the kitchen, he observed Anderson, the butler, raking the fire out of the large oven which stands in the back-yard.

“‘Baking again, Anderson?’ said he in passing. ‘You get soon through with a heavy cargo of bread just now.’

“‘Yes, sir; many mouths to feed, sir,’ replied the butler, proceeding with his work.

“The skipper sauntered on, and took the track which leads to the boat-house, where he stood for some time in meditation. Casting up his eyes, he saw Peterkin in the distance, looking as if he didn’t very well know what to do.

“A sudden thought struck him. Pulling off his coat, he seized a mallet and a caulking-chisel, and began to belabour the side of a boat as if his life depended on it. All at once he stopped and stood up, blowing with the exertion.

“‘Hollo, Peterkin!’ he shouted, and waved his hand.

“Peterkin hastened towards him.

“‘Well, sir,’ said he, ‘do you wish to speak to me?’

“‘Yes,’ replied the skipper, scratching his head as if in great perplexity. ‘I wish you to do me a favour, Peterkin, but I don’t know very well how to ask you.’

“‘Oh, I shall be most happy,’ said poor Butter eagerly, ‘if I can be of any use to you.’

“‘I don’t doubt your willingness,’ replied the other; ‘but then—the doctor, you see—the fact is, Peterkin, the doctor being called away to see a sick Indian, has entrusted me with a delicate piece of business—rather a nasty piece of business, I may say—which I promised to do for him. You must know that the Surgical Society of London has written to him, begging, as a great favour, that he would, if possible, procure them the skull of a native. After much trouble he has succeeded in getting one, but is obliged to keep it a great secret, even from his fellow-clerks, lest it should get wind; for if the Indians heard of it they would be sure to kill him, and perhaps burn the fort too. Now I suppose you are aware that it is necessary to boil an Indian’s head in order to get the flesh clean off the skull?’

“‘Yes; I have heard something of that sort from the students at college, who say that boiling brings flesh more easily away from the bone. But I don’t know much about it,’ replied Peterkin.

“‘Well,’ continued the skipper, ‘the doctor, who is fond of experiments, wishes to try whetherbakingwon’t do better thanboiling, and ordered the oven to be heated for that purpose this morning; but being called suddenly away, as I have said, he begged me to put the head into it as soon as it was ready. I agreed, quite forgetting at the time that I had to get this precious boat ready for sea this very afternoon. Now the oven is prepared, and I dare not leave my work; indeed, I doubt whether I shall have it quite ready and taut after all, and there’s the oven cooling; so, if you don’t help me, I’m a lost man.’

“Having said this, the skipper looked as miserable as his jolly visage would permit, and rubbed his nose.

“‘Oh, I’ll be happy to do it for you, although it is not an agreeable job,’ replied Butter.

“‘That’s right—that’s friendly now!’ exclaimed the skipper, as if greatly relieved. ‘Give us your flipper, my lad;’ and seizing Peterkin’s hand, he wrung it affectionately. ‘Now, here is the key of the outhouse; do it as quickly as you can, and don’t let any one see you. It’s in a good cause, you know, but the results might be terrible if discovered.’

“So saying, the skipper fell to hammering the boat again with surprising vigour till Butter was out of sight, and then resuming his coat, returned to the house.

“An hour after this, Anderson went to take his loaves out of the oven; but he had no sooner taken down the door than a rich odour of cooked meat greeted his nostrils. Uttering a deep growl, the butler shouted out, ‘Sprat!’

“Upon this, a very thin boy, with arms and legs like pipe stems, issued from the kitchen, and came timidly towards his master.

“‘Didn’t I tell you, you young blackguard, that the grouse-pie was to be kept for Sunday? and there you’ve gone and put it to fire to-day.’

“‘The grouse-pie!’ said the boy, in amazement.

“‘Yes, the grouse-pie,’ retorted the indignant butler; and seizing the urchin by the neck, he held his head down to the mouth of the oven.

“‘Smellthat, you villain! What did you mean by it, eh?’

“‘Oh, murder!’ shouted the boy, as with a violent effort he freed himself, and ran shrieking into the house.

“‘Murder!’ repeated Anderson in astonishment, while he stooped to look into the oven, where the first thing that met his gaze was a human head, whose ghastly visage and staring eyeballs worked and moved about under the influence of the heat as if it were alive.

“With a yell that rang through the whole fort, the horrified butler rushed through the kitchen and out at the front door, where, as ill-luck would have it, Mr Rogan happened to be standing at the moment. Pitching head first into the small of the old gentleman’s back, he threw him off the platform and fell into his arms. Starting up in a moment, the governor dealt Anderson a cuff that sent him reeling towards the kitchen door again, on the steps of which he sat down, and began to sing out, ‘Oh, murder, murder! the oven, the oven!’ and not another word, bad, good, or indifferent, could be got out of him for the next half-hour, as he swayed himself to and fro and wrung his hands.

“To make a long story short, Mr Rogan went himself to the oven, and fished out the head, along with the loaves, which were, of course, all spoiled.”

“And what was the result?” inquired Harry.

“Oh, there was a long investigation, and the skipper got a blowing-up, and the doctor a warning to let Indians’ skulls lie at peace in their graves for the future; and poor Butter was sent to McKenzie’s River as a punishment, for old Rogan could never be brought to believe that he hadn’t been a willing tool in the skipper’s hands; and Anderson lost his batch of bread and his oven, for it had to be pulled down and a new one built.”

“Humph! and I’ve no doubt the governor read you a pretty stiff lecture on practical joking.”

“He did,” replied the accountant, laying aside his pipe, and drawing the green blanket over him, while Harry piled several large logs on the fire.

“Good-night,” said the accountant.

“Good-night,” replied his companions; and in a few minutes more they were sound asleep in their snowy camp, while the huge fire continued, during the greater part of the night, to cast its light on their slumbering forms.

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