Chapter Thirty Five.A stirring period in the life of Maximus.Intermingled joy and sorrow is the lot of man. Thus it has ever been; thus, no doubt, it shall continue to be until the present economy shall have reached its termination. “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” is a sufficient reply to those who would fain have it otherwise. But, independently of this view of the subject, may we not, with the painter’s eye, regard joy as the light, sorrow as the shade, in the picture of life? And who would have a paintingalllight orallshadow?Maximus found it so in his experience. The shadows in the picture of his life had of late been broad and dark, but a flash of vivid brilliancy had crossed it when he found his bride. Afterwards the light and shade were chequered, as we shall see.On leaving Moose, Maximus proceeded a day’s journey along the coast, and at night, as the weather was fine, he encamped with his wife and Old Moggy and Chimo on the open seashore. Here he held a consultation as to their future proceedings. As long as they were on the shore of James’s Bay they were in danger of being found by Indians; but once beyond Richmond Gulf they would be comparatively safe, and in the land of the Esquimaux. After mature deliberation it was resolved that they should travel during the night, and rest and cook their food during the daytime, when a fire would not be so likely to attract attention if kindled in sequestered places.This plan answered very well, and they passed stealthily along the coast when the Indians, if there were any there, were buried in repose. On approaching the camp of the tribe, however, from whom Aneetka had been taken, Maximus deemed it advisable to paddle far out to sea—the weather being fortunately calm—and to rest for a day and a night as well as they could in their frail bark. Maximus sat in the stern of the canoe and steered; his wife sat in the bow and paddled day after day as vigorously as if she had been a man. As for poor Old Moggy, she sat in the middle and paddled a little when she felt cold; but she slept during the greater part of the journey. Chimo conceived it to be his duty to enjoy himself, and did so accordingly, at all times and in every possible way.During that livelong day and night, and all the following day, the giant’s arm never flagged; Aneetka, too, rested only once or twice at the earnest request of her husband; but the little bark never once slackened its speed until the second night. Then Old Moggy was awakened.“Mother,” said Aneetka, who acted as interpreter between her husband and the old woman, “we want to sleep for an hour or two. You seem to have rested well. Will you wake and watch?”The old woman yawned, rubbed her eyes, and assented, after the question had been twice repeated. Then laying their heads on opposite sides of the canoe, without otherwise changing their positions, the husband and wife sank into repose.Two hours afterwards the old Indian woman, who had remained motionless as a dark statue all the time, uttered a slight sound. Instantly the sleepers awoke, for those who are in the midst of danger sleep lightly.“It is time to go on,” said the old woman, as she lay back again in her lair, rolled herself up into a bundle, and went to sleep.Maximus and his wife resumed their paddles, and the light craft glided swiftly on its way to the far north.As the sun rose they neared the land, and soon after they were seated not far from a high cliff, eating their breakfast beside a small fire, which sent so thin a column of smoke into the air that it was almost dissipated ere it reached the tree-tops. It was hoped that the Indians had been now so far overshot that there was no danger of even a straggler being near them. But they took the precaution to load their two guns with ball, and lean them against a tree within reach of their hands. When the meal was over, Maximus retired from the fire a few paces, and throwing himself at full length on the green moss beneath a tree, he fell into a sound sleep.He had not lain thus more than quarter of an hour when he was startled by the report of a gun, which was followed by a wild scream and a chorus of unearthly yells. At the same instant, and ere he could attempt to rise, his legs and arms were pinioned to the ground by four powerful Indians. For an instant Maximus was paralysed. Then the terrible reality of his position, the scream of Aneetka, and the sight of the thong with which his captors were about to bind him, caused his spirit to rebound with a degree of violence that lent him for the moment the strength of a giant. With a shout, in which even a tone of contempt seemed to mingle the Esquimau hurled his captors right and left, and sprang to his feet. The Indians fled; but one, who was a moment later in rising than the others, received a blow that felled him instantly. Maximus glanced quickly round in search of his wife, and observed her being hurried away by two Indians. As the arrow leaps from the bow the Esquimau sprang forward in pursuit. The Indians saw him coming. In bitter anger they prepared to let her go and fly, for having dropped their guns in the scuffle they were unable to fire upon their approaching foe. But there were other Indians in the bush whose weapons were levelled at the breast of Maximus, and the next moment would have been his last, but for a stone thrown from the cliffs above, which struck him on the forehead and stretched him bleeding and insensible upon the ground.When Maximus recovered from the effects of the blow, he found himself lying on the cold earth in total darkness, and firmly bound hand and foot. It is impossible to describe the agony of that bold spirit as he lay writhing on the ground, in the vain effort to burst the cords that bound him. He thought of Aneetka and his own utter helplessness, while she was, no doubt, in urgent need of his strong arm to deliver her. The thought maddened him, and again he strove in vain to burst his fetters, and yelled aloud in despair. The echoing rocks gave back his cry, and then all was silence. The dreadful thought now flashed across him that the Indians had buried him alive in some dark cavern, and brave though he was, he trembled in every limb with agony.Thus Maximus lay until the grey dawn shone in upon him, and showed that he was in a cave. Scarcely had he noted this fact when the figure of a man darkened the cave’s mouth and approached him. As the Indian bent over his helpless foe he revealed the savage features of Meestagoosh. For an instant he cast a look of mingled hatred and triumph on his enemy; then drawing a scalping-knife from his girdle, he stooped and cut the thong that bound his feet, at the same time signing to him to rise, for he knew that Maximus did not understand Indian. The Esquimau obeyed, and was led by the Indian through the woods towards the cliff where the struggle of the previous night had taken place. Here they came suddenly into view of the Indian camp.There were no tents: several green blankets that lay on the moss under the trees indicated where the party had lain during the night; and at a considerable distance apart from these sat Old Moggy, with her face buried in her skinny hands. Beside her stood Aneetka, with a calm but slightly anxious expression on her pale countenance. Chimo was held in a leash by an Indian. From the fact of the Indians being without tents or women, and having their faces daubed with red paint, besides being armed with knives, guns, and tomahawks, Maximus concluded that they composed a war party.On seeing her husband, Aneetka uttered a suppressed cry and bounded towards him; but ere she had proceeded two paces an Indian laid his hand on her arm, and led her back to where the old woman sat. Meestagoosh led Maximus to the same spot, and having confronted him with his wife, he said to the latter,—“Now, she-bear of the north, translate between us. If I think you tell lies, the dogs shall have your bones to pick.”Aneetka replied meekly, “You cannot hurt one hair of our heads unless the Great Spirit permit you.”“We shall see,” retorted the Indian with a scornful laugh. “Tell the polar bear,” continued Meestagoosh, in a contemptuous tone, “that I did not expect to catch him so soon. I have been fortunate. It was kind of him to come in my way, and to bring his she-bear with him. Tell him that I and my braves are going to pay a visit to his nation, to take a few scalps. I let him know this piece of good news because he will never know it from his friends, as he shall be food for dog very soon.”On this being translated, the face of Maximus assumed an expression of deep gravity mingled with sadness. His mind flew to the far north, and he thought of the midnight assault and the death-cry of women and children. The nature of the Esquimau was too noble and generous to be easily ruffled by the contemptuous tone of such a man as Meestagoosh; but his heart sank within him when he thought of the power as well as the will that the Indian had to put his threat into execution.“Tell him,” said Maximus quietly, “that I have no wish to talk with him, but remind him that Indians are not gods; they are men.”“Yes, he says truly,” retorted Meestagoosh, “the Indians are men, but Esquimaux are dogs.”While this conversation was going on, and the Indians were intent upon the scene, Old Moggy, who was not deemed worthy of being noticed, contrived unobserved to possess herself of a knife, and springing suddenly towards Maximus with an agility of which she seemed utterly incapable, she endeavoured to cut the thongs that bound his arms. Her hand was caught, however, by Meestagoosh, in time to frustrate her intention. Without deigning a word of remark, the Indian struck her a heavy blow on the cheek with the back of his open hand, which nearly stunned her. Staggering backward, she fell upon the ground with a low wail.The bosom of Maximus felt as if it would burst with rage. Before any one could prevent him, he raised his foot and struck Meestagoosh so violently on the chest that he fell as if he had been shot. In a moment he recovered, drew his knife, and springing like an infuriated tiger at his enemy, drove it with deadly force at his throat. Fortunately the arms of Maximus were tied in front of him, so that by raising them he was enabled to guard his chest and receive the stab on his wrist. The knife passed quite through the fleshy part of his left arm, but in doing so it severed one of the cords that bound him. Thought is not quicker than the mighty wrench with which the Esquimau burst the remaining cord and dashed his opponent to the ground. Before the astonished Indians could level their guns, Maximus had seized Aneetka in his arms and was bounding madly towards the cliff, which was not more than fifty yards distant. Every gun poured forth its deadly contents before he gained it; but his very nearness to the Indians seemed to contribute to his safety, and the suddenness of his flight rendered their hasty aim uncertain. In another moment he was round the point and behind the sheltering cliff, while the Indians uttered a terrific yell and darted forward in pursuit. Just about thirty paces beyond the point of the cliff that hid him for a few moments from view was the cave in which Maximus had spent the night. Quick as thought he sprang up the steep short ascent that led to its narrow entrance and darted in.Scarcely had he placed Aneetka behind a projection that formed an ample shelter at the mouth of the cave, when Chimo, who had broken from his captors, also darted in and crouched at his master’s feet. Meanwhile the Indians came sweeping round the point, and seeing by the entrance of the dog where the fugitives had taken shelter, they bounded up the ascent. The first who reached the cave’s mouth rashly passed the entrance. Ere he could fire his piece he received a blow from the fist of the Esquimau that fractured his skull, hurled him down the steep ascent, and dashed him against his comrades in the rear. This sudden repulse effectually checked the Indians, who are notoriously bad at storming. Indeed they would never have ventured to enter the cave in this manner had they not known that Maximus was totally unarmed.Withdrawing to a distance of about forty yards, the Indians now formed in a line, and loading their guns, fired volley after volley into the cave’s mouth. But Maximus and his wife crouched with the dog behind the ledge of rock at the entrance, and remained there in perfect safety. In a few minutes the Indians ceased firing, and one of their number cautiously approached the cave, supposing, no doubt, that the fusillade must have wounded if it had not killed those within; but the instant he passed the entrance, knife in hand, he was caught in the powerful arms of Maximus and hurled down the slope.A yell of indignation from the Indians followed this feat, and another volley was fired into the cave, but without effect; and the savages, seeing that it was impossible in this way to dislodge their foe, assembled in a group to consult.Meanwhile Old Moggy had made good use of the opportunity thus afforded her to effect her escape. She darted into the bushes and made for the rocky ground in the rear of the camp. In doing so she happened to pass the tree against which leaned the two guns belonging to her friends. They had escaped notice during themêléeof the previous day, and, with the shot-belts and powder-horns, remained where they had been placed when she and her companions landed. The old woman eagerly seized these, and clambered with them over the rocks at a rate that would have done credit to more youthful limbs. On reaching a ridge of rock that overlooked the cave where Maximus was sheltered, Old Moggy became aware of how matters stood. She could also see, from her elevated position, that a track, or the bed of a dried-up watercourse, led through the bushes towards the cave. Without a moment’s delay she descended it; but, on drawing near to the cave, she found that there was a barren spot of about thirty yards in extent between the place of refuge and the edge of the bushes. This open space was completely exposed to the view of the natives, who at that time were firing across it into the cavern; for, after their consultation, they had changed their position and renewed the fusillade. Moggy was now in despair. She knew that it would be impossible to pass the open ground without being shot, and she also felt certain that, when the Indians found their present attempts were fruitless, they would resort to others, in prosecuting which they would in all probability discover her. While she meditated thus, she looked earnestly towards the cave, and observed the astonished gaze of Maximus fixed upon her; for, from his position behind the ledge of rock, he could see the old woman without exposing himself to the Indians. While they gazed at each other a thought occurred to Old Moggy. She made a series of complicated signs, which, after frequent repetition, were understood by Maximus to mean that he was to expose himself to the view of the Indians. Instantly comprehending her meaning, the Esquimau stepped boldly from his place of concealment and shook his fist contemptuously in the face of his enemies. A shower of bullets and a yell of rage followed the act. This was just what Old Moggy had expected and desired. Not a gun remained undischarged, and before they could reload, she passed quickly over the open ground and bounded into the cave, where she turned and shook aloft the two guns with a hoarse laugh of triumph ere she sought the shelter of the ledge of rock.The Indians were so filled with fury at being thus outwitted by an old woman, that they forgot for a moment their usual caution, and rushed in a body up the slope; but ere they had accomplished half the distance two of their number fell, to rise no more. This was sufficient to check their career. Howling with baffled rage, and without waiting to pick up their fallen comrades, they darted right and left to seek the shelter of the bushes, for they could no longer remain in the open ground, now that their enemies were armed.For nearly an hour after this all was silence. Maximus and his companions could only form conjectures as to the movements of the Indians, for none of them were to be seen. However, as they had no resource but to remain in their retreat until night-fall, they endeavoured to make the place as comfortable as possible, and busied themselves in cleaning their arms.It happened that from the cave’s mouth they could see their canoe, which still lay on the beach where they had originally left it; and, while they were looking at it, they perceived one of the Indians stealing down towards it. Fortunately Maximus had a gun in his hand ready loaded, and the instant the Indian appeared he fired and shot him. No second Indian dared to venture towards the little craft, although it lay only a few yards distant from the edge of the forest; for they knew that the watchful eye of the Esquimau was upon them, and that instant death would be the fate of him who should make the attempt. The little canoe now became an object of intense interest to both parties. The Indians knew that if their foe should succeed in reaching it he could easily escape. This, of course, he could not hope to do as long as daylight lasted; nor even when night should arrive, unless it were a very dark one. But, on the other hand, they knew that they did not dare to venture near it so long as there was sufficient light to enable Maximus to take aim at them with his deadly gun. Both parties, therefore, remained silent and apparently inactive during the remainder of the day.But the busy brains both of Indians and Esquimaux were, during this weary interval, employed in planning how to circumvent each other. As the shades of night deepened, each became more watchful. Once only did Maximus move from his post, in order to go to the farther end of the cave, where the large powder-horn had been placed for safety. As he did so, Chimo, who was tied to a rock, tried to follow him, and on finding that he was restrained, uttered a loud, mournful howl. This cry sent a thrill to the heart of Maximus, for it immediately occurred to him that any attempt to leave the cave stealthily would instantly be intimated to the watchful foe by the dog, and to take Chimo with them was impossible.“The dog must die,” said Old Moggy, who divined at once what was passing in the man’s mind.Maximus shook his head sadly.“I cannot kill Chimo,” he said to Aneetka; “he is Edith’s dog.”Aneetka made no reply, for she felt the power of her husband’s objection to injure the dog of his little favourite; yet she could not but perceive that the cry—which was invariably repeated when any of the party moved away from the animal—would betray them in the moment of danger. Nothing further was said for some time, but Old Moggy, who had no tender reminiscences or feelings in regard to the dog, proceeded quietly and significantly to construct a running-noose on the stout thong of leather that encircled her waist and served as a sash.While she was thus engaged the sun’s last rays faded away and the night began to deepen around them. To the satisfaction of both parties the sky was draped with heavy clouds, which gave promise of a night of intense darkness. This was absolutely essential not only to the Indians but to Maximus, who had at length formed a plan by which he hoped to turn the dreaded cry of the dog to good account, although he had little hope of saving it from the Indians, should he succeed in escaping with the women. As the night grew darker he began to put this plan in execution.Taking his station at the entrance of the cave, he took a long and steady aim at the bow of the canoe, which could now be only seen dimly. Having adjusted the gun to his satisfaction he marked its position exactly on the rock, so that, when the canoe should be entirely hid from sight, he could make certain of hitting any object directly in front of it. Then he ordered Moggy and his wife to keep moving about the cave, so that the howling of Chimo should be kept up continually, and thus not appear unusual when they should really forsake the cave and attempt their escape. In order to show that he was still on the alert, he shortly after aimed at the canoe, which was now quite invisible, and fired. The effect was more startling than had been expected. A death-cry rent the air and mingled with the reverberations of the shot, proving that it had taken deadly effect on one of the Indians, who, under cover of the darkness, had ventured to approach the coveted canoe. A volley was instantly fired in the direction of the cave from various parts of the bushes, but without effect.Maximus now kept up a continued fire, sometimes discharging a succession of rapid shots, at other times firing at irregular intervals of from three to ten minutes. This he did purposely, with a view to his future plans. In the meantime the dog was made to keep up a continuous howling.“Now, Aneetka,” said Maximus, as the ring of his last shot died away, “go, and may the Great Spirit guide thee!”Without a word of reply, the two women glided noiselessly like shadows into the thick darkness. About two minutes after they had disappeared, Maximus again fired several shots, taking care, however, to point considerably to the right of the canoe. Then he ceased for three minutes, and again fired several shots irregularly. At the last shot he passed from the cave so silently and quickly that even Chimo was deceived, and snuffed the air for a moment ere it renewed its sad wailing. In less than two minutes the Esquimau had glided, with the noiseless tread of a panther, to the spot where the canoe lay. Here he found his wife and the old woman crouching beside it. The water’s edge was about ten yards distant. A few seconds would suffice to lift the light bark in his powerful arms and launch it. Aneetka and the old woman, who had already received minute instructions what to do, had glided quietly into the sea the instant Maximus touched them; for, as we have said, it was intensely dark and they could not see a yard before them. The women now stood up to the knees in water, with their paddles in their hands ready to embark.Stooping down, the Esquimau seized the canoe; but, just as he was about to lift it, he observed a tall dark object close to his side.“Wah!” whispered the Indian, “you are before me. Quick! the Esquimau dog will fire again.”The words of the Indian were cut short by the iron gripe of Maximus on his throat, and the next instant he was felled by a blow that would have stunned an ox. So decided and quick was the action that it was not accompanied by more noise than might have been caused by the Indian endeavouring to lift the canoe, so that his comrades were not alarmed. Next moment the canoe was in the water. But the long silence, which had now been unbroken for eight or ten minutes, except by the howling of Chimo in the cave, began to arouse the suspicion of the red men; and no sooner was this the case than they glided from the bushes in all directions with noiseless tread. In a second or two the body of their fallen comrade was discovered, and a yell of fury rent the air (for concealment was now unnecessary), while they dashed into the water in pursuit. The darkness favoured the fugitives for a few seconds, and enabled the women to embark; but just as Maximus was about to step into his place, Meestagoosh seized him by the throat!Maximus was possessed of that ready presence of mind and prompt energy of character which are so necessary to a warrior, especially to him who wars with the prowling and stealthy savage. Almost in the same instant he gave the canoe a shove that sent it bounding out to sea, and raised his hand to catch the invisible arm which he knew must be descending with the deadly knife towards his heart. He succeeded so far that, although he did not arrest it, he turned the blow aside, receiving only a slight wound on the shoulder. Ere it could be repeated, he dealt his adversary a blow on the forehead, and hurled him back insensible into the water.The Esquimau immediately glided out into deep water; and now, for the first time in his life, he felt keenly the disadvantage of not being able to swim. This is an art which the inhabitants of the icy seas have never acquired, owing probably to the shortness of the season of open water, and the intense cold of the ice-laden seas, even in summer. The Indians, on the contrary, who live beside the warm lakes and rivers of the interior, are many of them pretty expert swimmers. Thus it happened that Maximus was obliged to stand up to his neck in the water, not daring to move or utter a sound, while his friends and foes alike sought in vain for him in the darkness.While he stood thus, uncertain how to act, he heard the water rippling near to him, and distinguished the hard breathing of a swimmer. Soon he observed a dark head making straight towards him. A sarcastic smile played for a moment on the face of the gigantic Esquimau, as he thought of the ease with which he should crush his approaching foe; and his hand was already raised to strike when it was arrested by a low whine, and the next moment Chimo was endeavouring to clamber upon his shoulder!It instantly occurred to Maximus that he might turn the dog’s swimming powers to good account. Seizing Chimo by the flanks with both hands, he turned its head out to sea, and keeping it in that position, was dragged into deep water. When he had been thus conveyed what appeared to be about fifty yards, he uttered a low cry. He was heard by the Indians as well as by those in the canoe; but the latter happened to be nearer to the spot, and a few strokes of the paddles sent them alongside of their comrade, who quickly caught the stern of the bark. The women plied their paddles, the Esquimau gave a shout of triumph, and half immersed in the water, was dragged away from shore. A yell of anger, and, soon after, a desultory discharge of firearms, told that the Indians had given up the chase.But it was now a question how Maximus was to be got into the canoe. The frail bark was so crank that a much lighter weight than that of the burly Esquimau would have upset it easily; and as the stern was sharp, there was no possibility of climbing over it. This was a matter of considerable anxiety, for the water was excessively cold, being laden with ice out at sea. While in this dilemma, the canoe grated on a rock, and it was discovered that in the dark they had well-nigh run against a low cape that jutted far out from the land at this part of the coast. Here Maximus and the dog landed, and while the one shook its wet sides, the other wrung the moisture from his garments; after which necessary operation he leaped, with his canine friend, into the canoe, and they pushed well out to sea.When daylight returned, they were far beyond the reach of their Indian enemies.
Intermingled joy and sorrow is the lot of man. Thus it has ever been; thus, no doubt, it shall continue to be until the present economy shall have reached its termination. “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” is a sufficient reply to those who would fain have it otherwise. But, independently of this view of the subject, may we not, with the painter’s eye, regard joy as the light, sorrow as the shade, in the picture of life? And who would have a paintingalllight orallshadow?
Maximus found it so in his experience. The shadows in the picture of his life had of late been broad and dark, but a flash of vivid brilliancy had crossed it when he found his bride. Afterwards the light and shade were chequered, as we shall see.
On leaving Moose, Maximus proceeded a day’s journey along the coast, and at night, as the weather was fine, he encamped with his wife and Old Moggy and Chimo on the open seashore. Here he held a consultation as to their future proceedings. As long as they were on the shore of James’s Bay they were in danger of being found by Indians; but once beyond Richmond Gulf they would be comparatively safe, and in the land of the Esquimaux. After mature deliberation it was resolved that they should travel during the night, and rest and cook their food during the daytime, when a fire would not be so likely to attract attention if kindled in sequestered places.
This plan answered very well, and they passed stealthily along the coast when the Indians, if there were any there, were buried in repose. On approaching the camp of the tribe, however, from whom Aneetka had been taken, Maximus deemed it advisable to paddle far out to sea—the weather being fortunately calm—and to rest for a day and a night as well as they could in their frail bark. Maximus sat in the stern of the canoe and steered; his wife sat in the bow and paddled day after day as vigorously as if she had been a man. As for poor Old Moggy, she sat in the middle and paddled a little when she felt cold; but she slept during the greater part of the journey. Chimo conceived it to be his duty to enjoy himself, and did so accordingly, at all times and in every possible way.
During that livelong day and night, and all the following day, the giant’s arm never flagged; Aneetka, too, rested only once or twice at the earnest request of her husband; but the little bark never once slackened its speed until the second night. Then Old Moggy was awakened.
“Mother,” said Aneetka, who acted as interpreter between her husband and the old woman, “we want to sleep for an hour or two. You seem to have rested well. Will you wake and watch?”
The old woman yawned, rubbed her eyes, and assented, after the question had been twice repeated. Then laying their heads on opposite sides of the canoe, without otherwise changing their positions, the husband and wife sank into repose.
Two hours afterwards the old Indian woman, who had remained motionless as a dark statue all the time, uttered a slight sound. Instantly the sleepers awoke, for those who are in the midst of danger sleep lightly.
“It is time to go on,” said the old woman, as she lay back again in her lair, rolled herself up into a bundle, and went to sleep.
Maximus and his wife resumed their paddles, and the light craft glided swiftly on its way to the far north.
As the sun rose they neared the land, and soon after they were seated not far from a high cliff, eating their breakfast beside a small fire, which sent so thin a column of smoke into the air that it was almost dissipated ere it reached the tree-tops. It was hoped that the Indians had been now so far overshot that there was no danger of even a straggler being near them. But they took the precaution to load their two guns with ball, and lean them against a tree within reach of their hands. When the meal was over, Maximus retired from the fire a few paces, and throwing himself at full length on the green moss beneath a tree, he fell into a sound sleep.
He had not lain thus more than quarter of an hour when he was startled by the report of a gun, which was followed by a wild scream and a chorus of unearthly yells. At the same instant, and ere he could attempt to rise, his legs and arms were pinioned to the ground by four powerful Indians. For an instant Maximus was paralysed. Then the terrible reality of his position, the scream of Aneetka, and the sight of the thong with which his captors were about to bind him, caused his spirit to rebound with a degree of violence that lent him for the moment the strength of a giant. With a shout, in which even a tone of contempt seemed to mingle the Esquimau hurled his captors right and left, and sprang to his feet. The Indians fled; but one, who was a moment later in rising than the others, received a blow that felled him instantly. Maximus glanced quickly round in search of his wife, and observed her being hurried away by two Indians. As the arrow leaps from the bow the Esquimau sprang forward in pursuit. The Indians saw him coming. In bitter anger they prepared to let her go and fly, for having dropped their guns in the scuffle they were unable to fire upon their approaching foe. But there were other Indians in the bush whose weapons were levelled at the breast of Maximus, and the next moment would have been his last, but for a stone thrown from the cliffs above, which struck him on the forehead and stretched him bleeding and insensible upon the ground.
When Maximus recovered from the effects of the blow, he found himself lying on the cold earth in total darkness, and firmly bound hand and foot. It is impossible to describe the agony of that bold spirit as he lay writhing on the ground, in the vain effort to burst the cords that bound him. He thought of Aneetka and his own utter helplessness, while she was, no doubt, in urgent need of his strong arm to deliver her. The thought maddened him, and again he strove in vain to burst his fetters, and yelled aloud in despair. The echoing rocks gave back his cry, and then all was silence. The dreadful thought now flashed across him that the Indians had buried him alive in some dark cavern, and brave though he was, he trembled in every limb with agony.
Thus Maximus lay until the grey dawn shone in upon him, and showed that he was in a cave. Scarcely had he noted this fact when the figure of a man darkened the cave’s mouth and approached him. As the Indian bent over his helpless foe he revealed the savage features of Meestagoosh. For an instant he cast a look of mingled hatred and triumph on his enemy; then drawing a scalping-knife from his girdle, he stooped and cut the thong that bound his feet, at the same time signing to him to rise, for he knew that Maximus did not understand Indian. The Esquimau obeyed, and was led by the Indian through the woods towards the cliff where the struggle of the previous night had taken place. Here they came suddenly into view of the Indian camp.
There were no tents: several green blankets that lay on the moss under the trees indicated where the party had lain during the night; and at a considerable distance apart from these sat Old Moggy, with her face buried in her skinny hands. Beside her stood Aneetka, with a calm but slightly anxious expression on her pale countenance. Chimo was held in a leash by an Indian. From the fact of the Indians being without tents or women, and having their faces daubed with red paint, besides being armed with knives, guns, and tomahawks, Maximus concluded that they composed a war party.
On seeing her husband, Aneetka uttered a suppressed cry and bounded towards him; but ere she had proceeded two paces an Indian laid his hand on her arm, and led her back to where the old woman sat. Meestagoosh led Maximus to the same spot, and having confronted him with his wife, he said to the latter,—“Now, she-bear of the north, translate between us. If I think you tell lies, the dogs shall have your bones to pick.”
Aneetka replied meekly, “You cannot hurt one hair of our heads unless the Great Spirit permit you.”
“We shall see,” retorted the Indian with a scornful laugh. “Tell the polar bear,” continued Meestagoosh, in a contemptuous tone, “that I did not expect to catch him so soon. I have been fortunate. It was kind of him to come in my way, and to bring his she-bear with him. Tell him that I and my braves are going to pay a visit to his nation, to take a few scalps. I let him know this piece of good news because he will never know it from his friends, as he shall be food for dog very soon.”
On this being translated, the face of Maximus assumed an expression of deep gravity mingled with sadness. His mind flew to the far north, and he thought of the midnight assault and the death-cry of women and children. The nature of the Esquimau was too noble and generous to be easily ruffled by the contemptuous tone of such a man as Meestagoosh; but his heart sank within him when he thought of the power as well as the will that the Indian had to put his threat into execution.
“Tell him,” said Maximus quietly, “that I have no wish to talk with him, but remind him that Indians are not gods; they are men.”
“Yes, he says truly,” retorted Meestagoosh, “the Indians are men, but Esquimaux are dogs.”
While this conversation was going on, and the Indians were intent upon the scene, Old Moggy, who was not deemed worthy of being noticed, contrived unobserved to possess herself of a knife, and springing suddenly towards Maximus with an agility of which she seemed utterly incapable, she endeavoured to cut the thongs that bound his arms. Her hand was caught, however, by Meestagoosh, in time to frustrate her intention. Without deigning a word of remark, the Indian struck her a heavy blow on the cheek with the back of his open hand, which nearly stunned her. Staggering backward, she fell upon the ground with a low wail.
The bosom of Maximus felt as if it would burst with rage. Before any one could prevent him, he raised his foot and struck Meestagoosh so violently on the chest that he fell as if he had been shot. In a moment he recovered, drew his knife, and springing like an infuriated tiger at his enemy, drove it with deadly force at his throat. Fortunately the arms of Maximus were tied in front of him, so that by raising them he was enabled to guard his chest and receive the stab on his wrist. The knife passed quite through the fleshy part of his left arm, but in doing so it severed one of the cords that bound him. Thought is not quicker than the mighty wrench with which the Esquimau burst the remaining cord and dashed his opponent to the ground. Before the astonished Indians could level their guns, Maximus had seized Aneetka in his arms and was bounding madly towards the cliff, which was not more than fifty yards distant. Every gun poured forth its deadly contents before he gained it; but his very nearness to the Indians seemed to contribute to his safety, and the suddenness of his flight rendered their hasty aim uncertain. In another moment he was round the point and behind the sheltering cliff, while the Indians uttered a terrific yell and darted forward in pursuit. Just about thirty paces beyond the point of the cliff that hid him for a few moments from view was the cave in which Maximus had spent the night. Quick as thought he sprang up the steep short ascent that led to its narrow entrance and darted in.
Scarcely had he placed Aneetka behind a projection that formed an ample shelter at the mouth of the cave, when Chimo, who had broken from his captors, also darted in and crouched at his master’s feet. Meanwhile the Indians came sweeping round the point, and seeing by the entrance of the dog where the fugitives had taken shelter, they bounded up the ascent. The first who reached the cave’s mouth rashly passed the entrance. Ere he could fire his piece he received a blow from the fist of the Esquimau that fractured his skull, hurled him down the steep ascent, and dashed him against his comrades in the rear. This sudden repulse effectually checked the Indians, who are notoriously bad at storming. Indeed they would never have ventured to enter the cave in this manner had they not known that Maximus was totally unarmed.
Withdrawing to a distance of about forty yards, the Indians now formed in a line, and loading their guns, fired volley after volley into the cave’s mouth. But Maximus and his wife crouched with the dog behind the ledge of rock at the entrance, and remained there in perfect safety. In a few minutes the Indians ceased firing, and one of their number cautiously approached the cave, supposing, no doubt, that the fusillade must have wounded if it had not killed those within; but the instant he passed the entrance, knife in hand, he was caught in the powerful arms of Maximus and hurled down the slope.
A yell of indignation from the Indians followed this feat, and another volley was fired into the cave, but without effect; and the savages, seeing that it was impossible in this way to dislodge their foe, assembled in a group to consult.
Meanwhile Old Moggy had made good use of the opportunity thus afforded her to effect her escape. She darted into the bushes and made for the rocky ground in the rear of the camp. In doing so she happened to pass the tree against which leaned the two guns belonging to her friends. They had escaped notice during themêléeof the previous day, and, with the shot-belts and powder-horns, remained where they had been placed when she and her companions landed. The old woman eagerly seized these, and clambered with them over the rocks at a rate that would have done credit to more youthful limbs. On reaching a ridge of rock that overlooked the cave where Maximus was sheltered, Old Moggy became aware of how matters stood. She could also see, from her elevated position, that a track, or the bed of a dried-up watercourse, led through the bushes towards the cave. Without a moment’s delay she descended it; but, on drawing near to the cave, she found that there was a barren spot of about thirty yards in extent between the place of refuge and the edge of the bushes. This open space was completely exposed to the view of the natives, who at that time were firing across it into the cavern; for, after their consultation, they had changed their position and renewed the fusillade. Moggy was now in despair. She knew that it would be impossible to pass the open ground without being shot, and she also felt certain that, when the Indians found their present attempts were fruitless, they would resort to others, in prosecuting which they would in all probability discover her. While she meditated thus, she looked earnestly towards the cave, and observed the astonished gaze of Maximus fixed upon her; for, from his position behind the ledge of rock, he could see the old woman without exposing himself to the Indians. While they gazed at each other a thought occurred to Old Moggy. She made a series of complicated signs, which, after frequent repetition, were understood by Maximus to mean that he was to expose himself to the view of the Indians. Instantly comprehending her meaning, the Esquimau stepped boldly from his place of concealment and shook his fist contemptuously in the face of his enemies. A shower of bullets and a yell of rage followed the act. This was just what Old Moggy had expected and desired. Not a gun remained undischarged, and before they could reload, she passed quickly over the open ground and bounded into the cave, where she turned and shook aloft the two guns with a hoarse laugh of triumph ere she sought the shelter of the ledge of rock.
The Indians were so filled with fury at being thus outwitted by an old woman, that they forgot for a moment their usual caution, and rushed in a body up the slope; but ere they had accomplished half the distance two of their number fell, to rise no more. This was sufficient to check their career. Howling with baffled rage, and without waiting to pick up their fallen comrades, they darted right and left to seek the shelter of the bushes, for they could no longer remain in the open ground, now that their enemies were armed.
For nearly an hour after this all was silence. Maximus and his companions could only form conjectures as to the movements of the Indians, for none of them were to be seen. However, as they had no resource but to remain in their retreat until night-fall, they endeavoured to make the place as comfortable as possible, and busied themselves in cleaning their arms.
It happened that from the cave’s mouth they could see their canoe, which still lay on the beach where they had originally left it; and, while they were looking at it, they perceived one of the Indians stealing down towards it. Fortunately Maximus had a gun in his hand ready loaded, and the instant the Indian appeared he fired and shot him. No second Indian dared to venture towards the little craft, although it lay only a few yards distant from the edge of the forest; for they knew that the watchful eye of the Esquimau was upon them, and that instant death would be the fate of him who should make the attempt. The little canoe now became an object of intense interest to both parties. The Indians knew that if their foe should succeed in reaching it he could easily escape. This, of course, he could not hope to do as long as daylight lasted; nor even when night should arrive, unless it were a very dark one. But, on the other hand, they knew that they did not dare to venture near it so long as there was sufficient light to enable Maximus to take aim at them with his deadly gun. Both parties, therefore, remained silent and apparently inactive during the remainder of the day.
But the busy brains both of Indians and Esquimaux were, during this weary interval, employed in planning how to circumvent each other. As the shades of night deepened, each became more watchful. Once only did Maximus move from his post, in order to go to the farther end of the cave, where the large powder-horn had been placed for safety. As he did so, Chimo, who was tied to a rock, tried to follow him, and on finding that he was restrained, uttered a loud, mournful howl. This cry sent a thrill to the heart of Maximus, for it immediately occurred to him that any attempt to leave the cave stealthily would instantly be intimated to the watchful foe by the dog, and to take Chimo with them was impossible.
“The dog must die,” said Old Moggy, who divined at once what was passing in the man’s mind.
Maximus shook his head sadly.
“I cannot kill Chimo,” he said to Aneetka; “he is Edith’s dog.”
Aneetka made no reply, for she felt the power of her husband’s objection to injure the dog of his little favourite; yet she could not but perceive that the cry—which was invariably repeated when any of the party moved away from the animal—would betray them in the moment of danger. Nothing further was said for some time, but Old Moggy, who had no tender reminiscences or feelings in regard to the dog, proceeded quietly and significantly to construct a running-noose on the stout thong of leather that encircled her waist and served as a sash.
While she was thus engaged the sun’s last rays faded away and the night began to deepen around them. To the satisfaction of both parties the sky was draped with heavy clouds, which gave promise of a night of intense darkness. This was absolutely essential not only to the Indians but to Maximus, who had at length formed a plan by which he hoped to turn the dreaded cry of the dog to good account, although he had little hope of saving it from the Indians, should he succeed in escaping with the women. As the night grew darker he began to put this plan in execution.
Taking his station at the entrance of the cave, he took a long and steady aim at the bow of the canoe, which could now be only seen dimly. Having adjusted the gun to his satisfaction he marked its position exactly on the rock, so that, when the canoe should be entirely hid from sight, he could make certain of hitting any object directly in front of it. Then he ordered Moggy and his wife to keep moving about the cave, so that the howling of Chimo should be kept up continually, and thus not appear unusual when they should really forsake the cave and attempt their escape. In order to show that he was still on the alert, he shortly after aimed at the canoe, which was now quite invisible, and fired. The effect was more startling than had been expected. A death-cry rent the air and mingled with the reverberations of the shot, proving that it had taken deadly effect on one of the Indians, who, under cover of the darkness, had ventured to approach the coveted canoe. A volley was instantly fired in the direction of the cave from various parts of the bushes, but without effect.
Maximus now kept up a continued fire, sometimes discharging a succession of rapid shots, at other times firing at irregular intervals of from three to ten minutes. This he did purposely, with a view to his future plans. In the meantime the dog was made to keep up a continuous howling.
“Now, Aneetka,” said Maximus, as the ring of his last shot died away, “go, and may the Great Spirit guide thee!”
Without a word of reply, the two women glided noiselessly like shadows into the thick darkness. About two minutes after they had disappeared, Maximus again fired several shots, taking care, however, to point considerably to the right of the canoe. Then he ceased for three minutes, and again fired several shots irregularly. At the last shot he passed from the cave so silently and quickly that even Chimo was deceived, and snuffed the air for a moment ere it renewed its sad wailing. In less than two minutes the Esquimau had glided, with the noiseless tread of a panther, to the spot where the canoe lay. Here he found his wife and the old woman crouching beside it. The water’s edge was about ten yards distant. A few seconds would suffice to lift the light bark in his powerful arms and launch it. Aneetka and the old woman, who had already received minute instructions what to do, had glided quietly into the sea the instant Maximus touched them; for, as we have said, it was intensely dark and they could not see a yard before them. The women now stood up to the knees in water, with their paddles in their hands ready to embark.
Stooping down, the Esquimau seized the canoe; but, just as he was about to lift it, he observed a tall dark object close to his side.
“Wah!” whispered the Indian, “you are before me. Quick! the Esquimau dog will fire again.”
The words of the Indian were cut short by the iron gripe of Maximus on his throat, and the next instant he was felled by a blow that would have stunned an ox. So decided and quick was the action that it was not accompanied by more noise than might have been caused by the Indian endeavouring to lift the canoe, so that his comrades were not alarmed. Next moment the canoe was in the water. But the long silence, which had now been unbroken for eight or ten minutes, except by the howling of Chimo in the cave, began to arouse the suspicion of the red men; and no sooner was this the case than they glided from the bushes in all directions with noiseless tread. In a second or two the body of their fallen comrade was discovered, and a yell of fury rent the air (for concealment was now unnecessary), while they dashed into the water in pursuit. The darkness favoured the fugitives for a few seconds, and enabled the women to embark; but just as Maximus was about to step into his place, Meestagoosh seized him by the throat!
Maximus was possessed of that ready presence of mind and prompt energy of character which are so necessary to a warrior, especially to him who wars with the prowling and stealthy savage. Almost in the same instant he gave the canoe a shove that sent it bounding out to sea, and raised his hand to catch the invisible arm which he knew must be descending with the deadly knife towards his heart. He succeeded so far that, although he did not arrest it, he turned the blow aside, receiving only a slight wound on the shoulder. Ere it could be repeated, he dealt his adversary a blow on the forehead, and hurled him back insensible into the water.
The Esquimau immediately glided out into deep water; and now, for the first time in his life, he felt keenly the disadvantage of not being able to swim. This is an art which the inhabitants of the icy seas have never acquired, owing probably to the shortness of the season of open water, and the intense cold of the ice-laden seas, even in summer. The Indians, on the contrary, who live beside the warm lakes and rivers of the interior, are many of them pretty expert swimmers. Thus it happened that Maximus was obliged to stand up to his neck in the water, not daring to move or utter a sound, while his friends and foes alike sought in vain for him in the darkness.
While he stood thus, uncertain how to act, he heard the water rippling near to him, and distinguished the hard breathing of a swimmer. Soon he observed a dark head making straight towards him. A sarcastic smile played for a moment on the face of the gigantic Esquimau, as he thought of the ease with which he should crush his approaching foe; and his hand was already raised to strike when it was arrested by a low whine, and the next moment Chimo was endeavouring to clamber upon his shoulder!
It instantly occurred to Maximus that he might turn the dog’s swimming powers to good account. Seizing Chimo by the flanks with both hands, he turned its head out to sea, and keeping it in that position, was dragged into deep water. When he had been thus conveyed what appeared to be about fifty yards, he uttered a low cry. He was heard by the Indians as well as by those in the canoe; but the latter happened to be nearer to the spot, and a few strokes of the paddles sent them alongside of their comrade, who quickly caught the stern of the bark. The women plied their paddles, the Esquimau gave a shout of triumph, and half immersed in the water, was dragged away from shore. A yell of anger, and, soon after, a desultory discharge of firearms, told that the Indians had given up the chase.
But it was now a question how Maximus was to be got into the canoe. The frail bark was so crank that a much lighter weight than that of the burly Esquimau would have upset it easily; and as the stern was sharp, there was no possibility of climbing over it. This was a matter of considerable anxiety, for the water was excessively cold, being laden with ice out at sea. While in this dilemma, the canoe grated on a rock, and it was discovered that in the dark they had well-nigh run against a low cape that jutted far out from the land at this part of the coast. Here Maximus and the dog landed, and while the one shook its wet sides, the other wrung the moisture from his garments; after which necessary operation he leaped, with his canine friend, into the canoe, and they pushed well out to sea.
When daylight returned, they were far beyond the reach of their Indian enemies.
Chapter Thirty Six.Happy meetings and joyous feastings—Love, marriage, desertion, desolation, and conclusion.After the escape narrated in the last chapter, the stout Esquimau and his companions travelled in safety; for they had passed the country of the Indians, and were now near the lands of their own people.But if Maximus had not now to fight with men, he was not exempted from doing fierce battle with the elements of these inhospitable climes. For hundreds of miles he travelled along the east coast of Hudson’s Bay and the southern shores of the Straits, now driven ashore by the storm, anon interrupted by drift-ice, and obliged to carry his canoe for miles and miles on his shoulders, while the faithful Aneetka trudged by his side, happy as the day was long; for, although her load was necessarily a heavy one, her love for Maximus made it rest lighter than the eider-down that floated from her fingers when she plucked the wild birds for their evening meal. Moggy, too, waddled along after her own fashion, with a resolution and energy that said much for her strength and constitution. She only carried the light paddles and a few trifling articles that did not incommode her much.During the spring and summer and autumn they pursued their arduous journey, living from hand to mouth on the produce of their guns, nets, seal-spears, and fishing-lines, which generally supplied them with enough for their daily wants, sometimes with abundance, but not unfrequently with just sufficient to keep them alive. Three or four times they met with Esquimaux, and rendered essential service to them, and to the fur-traders, by telling them of the new fort at Ungava, recounting the wonders of the store there, and assuring them that the chief desire of the traders, after getting their furs, was to do them good, and bring about friendly intercourse between them and the Indians.Late in the autumn the three voyageurs drew near to Ungava Bay, and in passing along the coast opposite to the island on which Edith had spent the winter, they overtook Annatock and his whole tribe, with a flotilla of oomiaks and kayaks, on their way to the same place. At the mouth of the bay they were joined by the Esquimaux of False River, who were carrying supplies of seal-blubber to the fort for the use of the dogs in winter, and a few deerskins to trade.It was a bright and beautiful autumn afternoon (a rare blessing in that dreary clime) when they passed the narrows of the river, and came in sight of Fort Chimo.On that day an unusually successful deer-hunt had taken place, and the fiddle had, as Bryan expressed it, been “sarved out” to the men, for the purpose of rejoicing their hearts with sweet sounds. On that day a small band of Indians had arrived with a rich and unusually large stock of furs, among which there were one or two silver foxes and a choice lot of superb martens. This tended to gladden the heart of Stanley; and truly he needed such encouragement. At one of the Company’s inland trading-posts such a bundle of furs would have been received as a matter of common occurrence; but it was otherwise with the poverty-stricken Ungava, from which so much had been expected before its dreary, barren character was known.On that day, too, a picturesque iceberg had grounded near the fort at high water, and Frank took Edith in the small canoe to paddle her among its peaked and fantastic fragments.“You will be steersman and sit in the stern, Eda,” said Frank, as they embarked. “I will stand in the bow and keep you clear of ice-tongues.”“How beautiful!” exclaimed the delighted child, as their light craft glided in and out among the icy pinnacles which overhung them in some places as they passed. “Don’t you hear a strange noise, Frank?”Truly Frank did hear a strange noise, and beheld a strange sight, for at that moment the Esquimau flotilla passed the narrows and swept round the bay; while the natives, excited by their unusual numbers and the unexpected return of Maximus, yelled and screamed and threw about their arms in a manner that defies description.“There must be strangers among them,” said Frank, as he paddled towards the shore; “they are too numerous for our friends of False River.”“That seems to be an Indian canoe coming on ahead,” remarked Stanley, who, along with his wife and most of the men, had hurried to the beach on hearing the shouts of the approaching multitude.“Can it be possible?” exclaimed Frank, as the canoe drew near; “does it not look like Maximus—eh?”“Oh! o-o-o-oh! there’s Chimo!” screamed Edith, her eyes dancing with mingled amazement and delight.The dog in his anxiety to reach the shore had leaped into the water; but he had miscalculated his powers of swimming, for the canoe instantly darted ahead. However, he was close on the heels of Maximus.“Give him a chare, bays,” cried Bryan, as he ran down to the beach waving a large hammer round his head. “Now thin, hooray!”The appeal was responded to with heartfelt energy by the whole party, as their old comrade sprang from the canoe, and leaving his wife to look after herself, ran toward Stanley and Frank and grasped them warmly by the hands, while his huge face beamed with emotion.“I hope that’s your wife you’ve brought with you, Maximus,” said Stanley.“I can answer for that,” said Frank; “I know her pretty face well.”“Ah! le poor chien,” cried La Roche; “it vill eat Miss Edith, I ver’ much b’lieve, voilà!”This seemed not unlikely, for the joy manifested by poor Chimo at the sight of his young mistress was of a most outrageous character, insomuch that the child was nearly overturned by the dog’s caresses.“Musha! what have ye got there, Maximus?” said Bryan, who had been gazing for some time past in solemn wonder at the figure of Old Moggy, who, regardless of the noise and excitement around her, was quietly carrying the goods and chattels from the canoe to the beach. “Shure ye’ve found yer ould grandmother. She’s the mortial parsonification of my own mother. Faix if it wasn’t that her proboscis is a taste longer, I’d swear it was herself.”At this point Massan stepped forward and took Maximus by the arm.“Come along, lad; there’s too much row here for a comfortable palaver; bring your wife wi’ you. Ye’ve run out o’ baccy, now? Of coorse ye have. Come, then, to the house; I’ll fill yer pipe and pouch, too, boy.—See after his canoe, La Roche; and bring the old ooman, Bryan.”“Mind yer own consarns an’ let yer shupariors proceed ye,” said Bryan, as he shoved past, and tucking Old Moggy’s arm within his own, marched off in triumph to the fort.Meanwhile, the main body of Esquimaux had landed, and the noise and confusion on the shore were so great that scarcely an intelligible sound could be heard. In the midst of all this, and while yet engaged in caressing Chimo, Edith felt some one pluck her by the sleeve, and on looking round she beheld the smiling faces of her old friends Arnalooa and Okatook. Scarcely had she bestowed a hearty welcome on them, when she was startled by an ecstatic yell of treble laughter close to her ear; and turning quickly round, she beheld the oily visage of Kaga with the baby—thebaby—in her hood, stark naked, and revelling in mirth as if that emotion of the mind were its native element—as indeed it was, if taken in connection with seal-fat.Scarcely had she recovered from her delight at this meeting, when she was again startled by a terrific shout, and immediately after Peetoot performed a violent dance around her, expressive of unutterable joy, and finished off by suddenly seizing her in his arms, after which he fled, horrified at his own presumption.To escape from this scene of confusion the traders returned to the fort, having directed the Esquimaux to pitch their camp on the point below; after which they were to assemble in the yard, for the double purpose of palavering and receiving a present of tobacco.That night was spent by the inhabitants of Fort Chimo in rejoicing. In her own little room Edith entertained a select tea-party, composed of Arnalooa, Okatook, Peetoot, Chimo, and the baby; and really it would be difficult to say which of them made most noise or which behaved most obstreperously. Upon mature consideration we think that Chimo behaved best; but that, all things considered, is not saying much for him. We rather think the baby behaved worst. Its oily visage shone again like a lustrous blob of fat, and its dimples glided about the surface in an endless game of hide-and-seek! As for Peetoot, he laughed and yelled until the tears ran over his cheeks, and more than once, in the excess of his glee, he rubbed noses with Chimo—a piece of familiarity which that sagacious animal was at length induced to resent and put a stop to by a gentle and partial display of two tremendous rows of white ivory.In the hall Stanley held a levee that lasted the greater part of the evening; and in the men’s house a ball was got up in honour of the giant’s return with his long-lost Aneetka.Ah, reader! although the countenances of the men assembled there were sunburnt and rough, and their garments weather-worn and coarse, and their language and tones unpolished, think not that their hearts were less tender or sympathetic than the hearts of those who are nurtured in softer scenes than the wilds of Ungava. Their laugh was loud and uproarious, it is true, but there was genuine, heartfelt reality in it. Their sympathy was boisterously expressed, mayhap, if expressed at all, but it was truly and deeply felt, and many an unbidden tear glanced from the bronzed cheeks of these stalwart men of the north, as they shook their gigantic comrade by the hand and wished him joy, and kissed his blooming bride.Aneetka had long since laid aside her native garb, and wore the more graceful and womanly costume of the Indian women, and Maximus wore the capote and leggings of the voyageur. But there were not wanting gentlemen from the camp at the point whose hairy garments and hoods, long hair and beards, did honour to the race of the Esquimaux; and there were present ladies from the same place, each of whom could atailunfold that would have been the admiration and envy of tadpoles, had any such creatures been there to see them. They wore boots too, to which, in width at least, those worn by fishermen are nothing. Some of them carried babies in their hoods—little naked imps, whose bodies and heads were dumplings (suet dumplings, we may add, for the information of the curious), and whose arms and legs were sausages.Bryan was great that night—he was majestic! The fiddle all but spoke, and produced a sensation of dancing in the toes of even those who happened to be seated. Bryan was great as a linguist, too, and exhibited his powers in this respect with singular felicity in the vocal entertainment that followed the dancing. The Esquimau language seemed a mere trifle to him, and he conversed, while playing the violin, with several “purty craytures” in their native tongue, with an amount of volubility quite surprising. Certainly it cannot be said that those whom he addressed expressed much intelligence; but Esquimaux are not usually found to be quick in their perceptions. Perchance Bryan was metaphysical!Mirth, hearty,realmirth reigned at the fort, not only that day, but for many a day afterwards; for the dangers, and troubles, and anxieties of the first year were past. Hope in the future was strong, despite the partial failures that had been experienced; and through the goodness of God, all those who composed the original band of the “forlorn hope” were reunited, after many weary months of travel, danger, and anxiety, during part of which a dark and dreary cloud (now happily dispelled) had settled down on Fort Chimo.Years have rolled away since the song and shout of the fur-trader first awakened the echoes of Ungava. Its general aspect is still the same, for there is no change in the everlasting hills. In summer the deer still wander down the dark ravines and lave their flanks in the river’s swelling tide, and in winter the frost-smoke still darkens the air and broods above the open water of the sea; but Fort Chimo, the joy and wonder of the Esquimaux and the hope of the fur-trader, is gone, and a green patch of herbage near the flat rock beside the spring alone remains to mark the spot where once it stood.In the course of time the changes that took place in the arrangements of the Fur Company required the presence of Stanley at another station, and he left Ungava with his wife and child. The gentleman who succeeded him was a bold, enterprising Scottish Highlander, whose experience in the fur trade and energy of character were a sufficient guarantee that the best and the utmost would be done for the interests of the Company in that quarter. But however resolute a man may be, he cannot make furs of hard rocks, nor convert a scene of desolation into a source of wealth. Vigorously he wrought and long he suffered, but at length he was compelled to advise the abandonment of the station. The Governor of the Company—a man of extraordinary energy and success in developing the resources of the sterile domains over which he ruled—was fain to admit at last that the trade of Ungava would not pay. The order to retreat was as prompt and decisive as the command to advance. A vessel was sent out to remove the goods, and in a brief space of time Fort Chimo was dismantled and deserted.The Esquimaux and Indians soon tore down and appropriated to their own use the frames of the buildings, and such of the materials of the fort as had been left standing; and the few remnants that were deemed worthless were finally swept away and every trace of them obliterated by the howling storms that rage almost continually around these desolate mountains.And now, reader, it remains for me to dismiss the characters who have played their part in this brief tale. Of most of them, however, I have but little to say, for they are still alive, scattered far and wide throughout the vast wilderness of Rupert’s Land, each acting his busy part in a new scene; for it is frequently the fate of those who enter this wild and stirring service to be associated for a brief season under one roof, and then broken up and scattered over the land, never again to be reunited.George Stanley, after a long sojourn in the backwoods, retired from the service, and, with his family, proceeded to Canada, where he purchased a small farm. Here Edith waxed strong and beautiful, and committed appalling havoc among the hearts of the young men for thirty miles around her father’s farm. But she favoured no one, and at the age of seventeen acquired the name of being the coldest as well as the most beautiful and modest girl in the far west.There was a thin young man, with weak limbs and a tendency to fall into a desponding state of mind, who lived about three miles from Mr Stanley’s farm. This young man’s feelings had been so often lacerated by hopes and fears in reference to the fair Edith, that he mounted his pony one evening in desperation, and galloped away in hot haste to declare his passion, and realise or blast his hopes for ever. As he approached the villa, however, he experienced a sensation of emptiness about the region of the stomach, and regretted that he had not taken more food at dinner. Having passed the garden gate, he dismounted, fastened his pony to a tree, and struck across the shrubbery towards the house with trembling steps. As he proceeded, he received a terrific shock by observing the flutter of a scarf, which he knew intuitively belonged to Edith. The scarf disappeared within a bower which stood not more than twenty yards distant from him, close beside the avenue that led to the house. By taking two steps forward he could have seen Edith, as she sat in the bower gazing with a pensive look at the distant prospect of hill and dale, river and lake, in the midst of which she dwelt; but the young man could as easily have leaped over Stanley’s villa, farm and all, as have taken these two steps. He essayed to do so; but he was rooted to the ground as firmly as the noble trees under which he stood. At length, by a great effort, he managed to crawl—if we may so express it—to within a few yards of the bower, from which he was now concealed only by a few bushes; but just as he had screwed up his soul to the sticking point, and had shut his eyes preparatory to making a rush and flinging himself on his knees at Edith’s feet, he was struck powerless by the sound of a deep sigh, and, a moment after, was all but annihilated by a cough!Suddenly the sound of horse-hoofs was heard clattering up the avenue. On came the rider, as if in urgent haste. In a few seconds a curve in the avenue brought him into view. He was a man of handsome and massive proportions, and bestrode a black charger that might have carried a heavy dragoon like a feather. A wheel-barrow had been left across the track, over which the steed went with an easy yet heavy bound, betokening well-balanced strength and weight; and a bright smile lighted up the rider’s bronzed face for an instant, as his straw-hat blew off in the leap and permitted his curling hair to stream out in the wind. As he passed the bower at a swinging gallop, an exclamation of surprise from Edith attracted his attention. The charger’s hoofs spurned the gravel while he was reined up so violently that he was thrown on his haunches, and almost before the thin young man could wink in order to clear his vision, this slashing cavalier sprang to the ground and entered the bower.There was a faint scream, which was instantly followed by a sound so peculiar that it sent a thrill of dismay to the cavity in which the heart of the weak young man had once lodged. Stretching out his hand he turned aside the branches, and was brought to the climax of consternation by beholding Edith in the arms of the tall stranger! Bewildered in the intellect, and effectually crippled about the knees and ankles, he could only gaze and listen.“So you have come—at last!” whispered Edith, while a brilliant blush overspread her fair cheek.“O Edith!” murmured the stalwart cavalier, in a deep musical voice, “how my heart has yearned for this day! How I have longed to hear your sweet and well-remembered voice! In the desolate solitudes of the far north I have thought of you. Amid the silent glades of the forest, when alone and asleep on my mossy couch or upon my bed of snow, I have dreamed of you—dreamed of you as you were, a fair, sweet, happy child, when we wandered together among the mountains of Ungava—and dreamed of you as I fancied you must have become, and as I now find you to be. Yes, beloved girl, my heart has owned but one image since we parted, years ago, on the banks of the Caniapuscaw River. Your letters have been my bosom friends in all my long, long wanderings through the wilderness; and the hope of seeing you has gladdened my heart and nerved my arm. I have heard your sighs in every gentle air that stirred the trees, and your merry laugh in the rippling waters. Even in the tempest’s roar and the thundering cataract I have fancied that I heard you calling for assistance; and many a time and oft I have leaped from my couch to find that I did but dream. But they were pleasant and very precious dreams to me. O Edith! I have remembered you, and thought of you, and loved you, through months and years of banishment! And now—”Again was heard the peculiar sound that had thrilled with dismay the bosom of the weak young man.“Halo! whence came this charger?” shouted a hale, hearty voice, as Stanley walked towards the bower. “Eh! what have we here?” he exclaimed, rushing forward and seizing the stranger in his arms,—“Frank—Frank Morton!”This was too much. The weak young man suddenly became strong as Hercules. He turned and fled down the avenue like a deer. The pony, having managed to unfasten its bridle, stood in the centre of the way gazing down the avenue with its back towards its master. Unwonted fire nerved the youth’s limbs; with one bound he vaulted leap frog over the animal’s back into the saddle, dashed his spurs into its sides, and fled like a whirlwind from the scene of his despair.Frank Morton and George Stanley, being both men of promptitude and decision, resolved that one month was long enough to make preparations for the marriage; and Edith, being the most dutiful daughter that ever lived, did what she was bid.That beautiful cottage which stands in the midst of most exquisite scenery, about two miles from Stanley’s villa, is inhabited by Frank Morton and his family. That crow which you have just heard proceed from the nursery was uttered by the youngest of five; and yonder little boy with broad shoulders, who thrusts his hands into his pockets in a decided manner, and whistles vociferously as he swaggers down the avenue, is Master George F. Morton, on his way to school.La Roche and Bryan were so fortunate as to be appointed to the same establishment after leaving Ungava—somewhere near the mouth of the Mackenzie River, and within the region of all but perpetual frost and snow. They are sometimes visited by Esquimaux, which is fortunate; for, as Bryan says, “it guves him an opportunity o’ studyin’ the peecoolier dialects o’ their lingo.”Dick Prince was the only one who lost his life in the “forlorn-hope.” He was drowned while out shooting in the bay alone in his canoe. A sudden storm upset his frail bark and left him struggling in the water. Prince was a strong swimmer, and he battled long for his life; but the ice-laden sea benumbed his hardy limbs, and he sank at last, without a cry, to rise no more. He was a noble specimen of his class—a brave, modest, unobtrusive son of the forest, beloved and respected by his companions; and when his warm heart ceased to beat, it was felt by all that a bright star of the wilderness had been quenched for ever. His body was found next day on the beach, and was interred by his mourning comrades in a little spot of ground behind the fort. It was many a long day after this melancholy event ere Massan could smile; and when the fort was finally deserted, he put in practice his long-meditated intention of becoming a hunter and taking to the Rocky Mountains, where he wanders now, if he has escaped the claws of the dreaded grizzly bear and the scalping-knife of the Red Indian.Moses, finding the life of a fur-trader not quite to his taste, rejoined his countrymen, and reverted to killing seals and eating raw blubber. The two Indians also returned to a purely savage life, which, indeed, they had only forsaken for a time. Augustus and Oolibuck died; and the latter left a son, who has already rendered good service as interpreter to the arctic expeditions, as his worthy father did before him. François and Gaspard are still together at one of the posts of the interior. They are now fast friends, and have many a talk over the days when they quarrelled and messed together at Fort Chimo.As for the poor Esquimaux, they were for a time quite inconsolable at the departure of the fur-traders, and with a species of childlike simplicity, hung about the bay, in the hope that they might, after all, return. Then they went off in a body to the westward, and the region of Ungava, to which they had never been partial, was left in its original dreary solitude. It may be that some good had been done to the souls of these poor natives during their brief intercourse with the traders. We cannot tell, and we refrain from guessing or speculating on a subject so serious. But of this we are assured—if one grain of the good seed has been sown, it may long lie dormant, but itcannotdie.Maximus accompanied his countrymen, along with Aneetka and Old Moggy, who soon assumed the native costume, and completely identified herself with the Esquimaux. Maximus was now a great man among his people, who regarded with deep respect the man who had travelled through the lands of the Indians, had fought with the red men, single-handed, and had visited the fur-traders of the south. But the travelled Esquimaux was in reality a greater man than his fellows supposed him to be. He fully appreciated the advantages to be derived from a trading-post near their ice-girt lands, and resolved, when opportunity should offer, to do all in his power to strengthen the friendship now subsisting between the Indians and the Esquimaux of Ungava, and to induce his countrymen, if possible, to travel south towards the establishment on James’s Bay.He still retains, however, a lingering affection for the spot where he had spent so many happy days, and at least once a year he undertakes a solitary journey to the rugged mountains that encircled Fort Chimo. As in days of yore, with wallet on shoulder and seal-spear in hand, the giant strides from rock to rock along the now silent banks of the Caniapuscaw River. Once again he seats himself on the flat rock beside the spring, and gazes round in sadness on those wild, majestic hills, or bends his eye upon the bright green spot that indicates the ancient site of the trading-post, not a vestige of which is now visible, save the little wooden cross that marks the lonely grave of Dick Prince; and the broad chest of the giant heaves with emotion as he views these records of the past, and calls to mind the merry shouts and joyous songs that used to gladden that dreary spot, the warm hearth at which he was wont to find a hearty welcome, and the kind comrades who are now gone for ever. Ungava spreads, in all its dark sterility, around him, as it did in the days before the traders landed there; and that bright interval of busy life, in which he had acted so prominent a part, seems now but the fleeting fancy of a bright and pleasant dream.The End.
After the escape narrated in the last chapter, the stout Esquimau and his companions travelled in safety; for they had passed the country of the Indians, and were now near the lands of their own people.
But if Maximus had not now to fight with men, he was not exempted from doing fierce battle with the elements of these inhospitable climes. For hundreds of miles he travelled along the east coast of Hudson’s Bay and the southern shores of the Straits, now driven ashore by the storm, anon interrupted by drift-ice, and obliged to carry his canoe for miles and miles on his shoulders, while the faithful Aneetka trudged by his side, happy as the day was long; for, although her load was necessarily a heavy one, her love for Maximus made it rest lighter than the eider-down that floated from her fingers when she plucked the wild birds for their evening meal. Moggy, too, waddled along after her own fashion, with a resolution and energy that said much for her strength and constitution. She only carried the light paddles and a few trifling articles that did not incommode her much.
During the spring and summer and autumn they pursued their arduous journey, living from hand to mouth on the produce of their guns, nets, seal-spears, and fishing-lines, which generally supplied them with enough for their daily wants, sometimes with abundance, but not unfrequently with just sufficient to keep them alive. Three or four times they met with Esquimaux, and rendered essential service to them, and to the fur-traders, by telling them of the new fort at Ungava, recounting the wonders of the store there, and assuring them that the chief desire of the traders, after getting their furs, was to do them good, and bring about friendly intercourse between them and the Indians.
Late in the autumn the three voyageurs drew near to Ungava Bay, and in passing along the coast opposite to the island on which Edith had spent the winter, they overtook Annatock and his whole tribe, with a flotilla of oomiaks and kayaks, on their way to the same place. At the mouth of the bay they were joined by the Esquimaux of False River, who were carrying supplies of seal-blubber to the fort for the use of the dogs in winter, and a few deerskins to trade.
It was a bright and beautiful autumn afternoon (a rare blessing in that dreary clime) when they passed the narrows of the river, and came in sight of Fort Chimo.
On that day an unusually successful deer-hunt had taken place, and the fiddle had, as Bryan expressed it, been “sarved out” to the men, for the purpose of rejoicing their hearts with sweet sounds. On that day a small band of Indians had arrived with a rich and unusually large stock of furs, among which there were one or two silver foxes and a choice lot of superb martens. This tended to gladden the heart of Stanley; and truly he needed such encouragement. At one of the Company’s inland trading-posts such a bundle of furs would have been received as a matter of common occurrence; but it was otherwise with the poverty-stricken Ungava, from which so much had been expected before its dreary, barren character was known.
On that day, too, a picturesque iceberg had grounded near the fort at high water, and Frank took Edith in the small canoe to paddle her among its peaked and fantastic fragments.
“You will be steersman and sit in the stern, Eda,” said Frank, as they embarked. “I will stand in the bow and keep you clear of ice-tongues.”
“How beautiful!” exclaimed the delighted child, as their light craft glided in and out among the icy pinnacles which overhung them in some places as they passed. “Don’t you hear a strange noise, Frank?”
Truly Frank did hear a strange noise, and beheld a strange sight, for at that moment the Esquimau flotilla passed the narrows and swept round the bay; while the natives, excited by their unusual numbers and the unexpected return of Maximus, yelled and screamed and threw about their arms in a manner that defies description.
“There must be strangers among them,” said Frank, as he paddled towards the shore; “they are too numerous for our friends of False River.”
“That seems to be an Indian canoe coming on ahead,” remarked Stanley, who, along with his wife and most of the men, had hurried to the beach on hearing the shouts of the approaching multitude.
“Can it be possible?” exclaimed Frank, as the canoe drew near; “does it not look like Maximus—eh?”
“Oh! o-o-o-oh! there’s Chimo!” screamed Edith, her eyes dancing with mingled amazement and delight.
The dog in his anxiety to reach the shore had leaped into the water; but he had miscalculated his powers of swimming, for the canoe instantly darted ahead. However, he was close on the heels of Maximus.
“Give him a chare, bays,” cried Bryan, as he ran down to the beach waving a large hammer round his head. “Now thin, hooray!”
The appeal was responded to with heartfelt energy by the whole party, as their old comrade sprang from the canoe, and leaving his wife to look after herself, ran toward Stanley and Frank and grasped them warmly by the hands, while his huge face beamed with emotion.
“I hope that’s your wife you’ve brought with you, Maximus,” said Stanley.
“I can answer for that,” said Frank; “I know her pretty face well.”
“Ah! le poor chien,” cried La Roche; “it vill eat Miss Edith, I ver’ much b’lieve, voilà!”
This seemed not unlikely, for the joy manifested by poor Chimo at the sight of his young mistress was of a most outrageous character, insomuch that the child was nearly overturned by the dog’s caresses.
“Musha! what have ye got there, Maximus?” said Bryan, who had been gazing for some time past in solemn wonder at the figure of Old Moggy, who, regardless of the noise and excitement around her, was quietly carrying the goods and chattels from the canoe to the beach. “Shure ye’ve found yer ould grandmother. She’s the mortial parsonification of my own mother. Faix if it wasn’t that her proboscis is a taste longer, I’d swear it was herself.”
At this point Massan stepped forward and took Maximus by the arm.
“Come along, lad; there’s too much row here for a comfortable palaver; bring your wife wi’ you. Ye’ve run out o’ baccy, now? Of coorse ye have. Come, then, to the house; I’ll fill yer pipe and pouch, too, boy.—See after his canoe, La Roche; and bring the old ooman, Bryan.”
“Mind yer own consarns an’ let yer shupariors proceed ye,” said Bryan, as he shoved past, and tucking Old Moggy’s arm within his own, marched off in triumph to the fort.
Meanwhile, the main body of Esquimaux had landed, and the noise and confusion on the shore were so great that scarcely an intelligible sound could be heard. In the midst of all this, and while yet engaged in caressing Chimo, Edith felt some one pluck her by the sleeve, and on looking round she beheld the smiling faces of her old friends Arnalooa and Okatook. Scarcely had she bestowed a hearty welcome on them, when she was startled by an ecstatic yell of treble laughter close to her ear; and turning quickly round, she beheld the oily visage of Kaga with the baby—thebaby—in her hood, stark naked, and revelling in mirth as if that emotion of the mind were its native element—as indeed it was, if taken in connection with seal-fat.
Scarcely had she recovered from her delight at this meeting, when she was again startled by a terrific shout, and immediately after Peetoot performed a violent dance around her, expressive of unutterable joy, and finished off by suddenly seizing her in his arms, after which he fled, horrified at his own presumption.
To escape from this scene of confusion the traders returned to the fort, having directed the Esquimaux to pitch their camp on the point below; after which they were to assemble in the yard, for the double purpose of palavering and receiving a present of tobacco.
That night was spent by the inhabitants of Fort Chimo in rejoicing. In her own little room Edith entertained a select tea-party, composed of Arnalooa, Okatook, Peetoot, Chimo, and the baby; and really it would be difficult to say which of them made most noise or which behaved most obstreperously. Upon mature consideration we think that Chimo behaved best; but that, all things considered, is not saying much for him. We rather think the baby behaved worst. Its oily visage shone again like a lustrous blob of fat, and its dimples glided about the surface in an endless game of hide-and-seek! As for Peetoot, he laughed and yelled until the tears ran over his cheeks, and more than once, in the excess of his glee, he rubbed noses with Chimo—a piece of familiarity which that sagacious animal was at length induced to resent and put a stop to by a gentle and partial display of two tremendous rows of white ivory.
In the hall Stanley held a levee that lasted the greater part of the evening; and in the men’s house a ball was got up in honour of the giant’s return with his long-lost Aneetka.
Ah, reader! although the countenances of the men assembled there were sunburnt and rough, and their garments weather-worn and coarse, and their language and tones unpolished, think not that their hearts were less tender or sympathetic than the hearts of those who are nurtured in softer scenes than the wilds of Ungava. Their laugh was loud and uproarious, it is true, but there was genuine, heartfelt reality in it. Their sympathy was boisterously expressed, mayhap, if expressed at all, but it was truly and deeply felt, and many an unbidden tear glanced from the bronzed cheeks of these stalwart men of the north, as they shook their gigantic comrade by the hand and wished him joy, and kissed his blooming bride.
Aneetka had long since laid aside her native garb, and wore the more graceful and womanly costume of the Indian women, and Maximus wore the capote and leggings of the voyageur. But there were not wanting gentlemen from the camp at the point whose hairy garments and hoods, long hair and beards, did honour to the race of the Esquimaux; and there were present ladies from the same place, each of whom could atailunfold that would have been the admiration and envy of tadpoles, had any such creatures been there to see them. They wore boots too, to which, in width at least, those worn by fishermen are nothing. Some of them carried babies in their hoods—little naked imps, whose bodies and heads were dumplings (suet dumplings, we may add, for the information of the curious), and whose arms and legs were sausages.
Bryan was great that night—he was majestic! The fiddle all but spoke, and produced a sensation of dancing in the toes of even those who happened to be seated. Bryan was great as a linguist, too, and exhibited his powers in this respect with singular felicity in the vocal entertainment that followed the dancing. The Esquimau language seemed a mere trifle to him, and he conversed, while playing the violin, with several “purty craytures” in their native tongue, with an amount of volubility quite surprising. Certainly it cannot be said that those whom he addressed expressed much intelligence; but Esquimaux are not usually found to be quick in their perceptions. Perchance Bryan was metaphysical!
Mirth, hearty,realmirth reigned at the fort, not only that day, but for many a day afterwards; for the dangers, and troubles, and anxieties of the first year were past. Hope in the future was strong, despite the partial failures that had been experienced; and through the goodness of God, all those who composed the original band of the “forlorn hope” were reunited, after many weary months of travel, danger, and anxiety, during part of which a dark and dreary cloud (now happily dispelled) had settled down on Fort Chimo.
Years have rolled away since the song and shout of the fur-trader first awakened the echoes of Ungava. Its general aspect is still the same, for there is no change in the everlasting hills. In summer the deer still wander down the dark ravines and lave their flanks in the river’s swelling tide, and in winter the frost-smoke still darkens the air and broods above the open water of the sea; but Fort Chimo, the joy and wonder of the Esquimaux and the hope of the fur-trader, is gone, and a green patch of herbage near the flat rock beside the spring alone remains to mark the spot where once it stood.
In the course of time the changes that took place in the arrangements of the Fur Company required the presence of Stanley at another station, and he left Ungava with his wife and child. The gentleman who succeeded him was a bold, enterprising Scottish Highlander, whose experience in the fur trade and energy of character were a sufficient guarantee that the best and the utmost would be done for the interests of the Company in that quarter. But however resolute a man may be, he cannot make furs of hard rocks, nor convert a scene of desolation into a source of wealth. Vigorously he wrought and long he suffered, but at length he was compelled to advise the abandonment of the station. The Governor of the Company—a man of extraordinary energy and success in developing the resources of the sterile domains over which he ruled—was fain to admit at last that the trade of Ungava would not pay. The order to retreat was as prompt and decisive as the command to advance. A vessel was sent out to remove the goods, and in a brief space of time Fort Chimo was dismantled and deserted.
The Esquimaux and Indians soon tore down and appropriated to their own use the frames of the buildings, and such of the materials of the fort as had been left standing; and the few remnants that were deemed worthless were finally swept away and every trace of them obliterated by the howling storms that rage almost continually around these desolate mountains.
And now, reader, it remains for me to dismiss the characters who have played their part in this brief tale. Of most of them, however, I have but little to say, for they are still alive, scattered far and wide throughout the vast wilderness of Rupert’s Land, each acting his busy part in a new scene; for it is frequently the fate of those who enter this wild and stirring service to be associated for a brief season under one roof, and then broken up and scattered over the land, never again to be reunited.
George Stanley, after a long sojourn in the backwoods, retired from the service, and, with his family, proceeded to Canada, where he purchased a small farm. Here Edith waxed strong and beautiful, and committed appalling havoc among the hearts of the young men for thirty miles around her father’s farm. But she favoured no one, and at the age of seventeen acquired the name of being the coldest as well as the most beautiful and modest girl in the far west.
There was a thin young man, with weak limbs and a tendency to fall into a desponding state of mind, who lived about three miles from Mr Stanley’s farm. This young man’s feelings had been so often lacerated by hopes and fears in reference to the fair Edith, that he mounted his pony one evening in desperation, and galloped away in hot haste to declare his passion, and realise or blast his hopes for ever. As he approached the villa, however, he experienced a sensation of emptiness about the region of the stomach, and regretted that he had not taken more food at dinner. Having passed the garden gate, he dismounted, fastened his pony to a tree, and struck across the shrubbery towards the house with trembling steps. As he proceeded, he received a terrific shock by observing the flutter of a scarf, which he knew intuitively belonged to Edith. The scarf disappeared within a bower which stood not more than twenty yards distant from him, close beside the avenue that led to the house. By taking two steps forward he could have seen Edith, as she sat in the bower gazing with a pensive look at the distant prospect of hill and dale, river and lake, in the midst of which she dwelt; but the young man could as easily have leaped over Stanley’s villa, farm and all, as have taken these two steps. He essayed to do so; but he was rooted to the ground as firmly as the noble trees under which he stood. At length, by a great effort, he managed to crawl—if we may so express it—to within a few yards of the bower, from which he was now concealed only by a few bushes; but just as he had screwed up his soul to the sticking point, and had shut his eyes preparatory to making a rush and flinging himself on his knees at Edith’s feet, he was struck powerless by the sound of a deep sigh, and, a moment after, was all but annihilated by a cough!
Suddenly the sound of horse-hoofs was heard clattering up the avenue. On came the rider, as if in urgent haste. In a few seconds a curve in the avenue brought him into view. He was a man of handsome and massive proportions, and bestrode a black charger that might have carried a heavy dragoon like a feather. A wheel-barrow had been left across the track, over which the steed went with an easy yet heavy bound, betokening well-balanced strength and weight; and a bright smile lighted up the rider’s bronzed face for an instant, as his straw-hat blew off in the leap and permitted his curling hair to stream out in the wind. As he passed the bower at a swinging gallop, an exclamation of surprise from Edith attracted his attention. The charger’s hoofs spurned the gravel while he was reined up so violently that he was thrown on his haunches, and almost before the thin young man could wink in order to clear his vision, this slashing cavalier sprang to the ground and entered the bower.
There was a faint scream, which was instantly followed by a sound so peculiar that it sent a thrill of dismay to the cavity in which the heart of the weak young man had once lodged. Stretching out his hand he turned aside the branches, and was brought to the climax of consternation by beholding Edith in the arms of the tall stranger! Bewildered in the intellect, and effectually crippled about the knees and ankles, he could only gaze and listen.
“So you have come—at last!” whispered Edith, while a brilliant blush overspread her fair cheek.
“O Edith!” murmured the stalwart cavalier, in a deep musical voice, “how my heart has yearned for this day! How I have longed to hear your sweet and well-remembered voice! In the desolate solitudes of the far north I have thought of you. Amid the silent glades of the forest, when alone and asleep on my mossy couch or upon my bed of snow, I have dreamed of you—dreamed of you as you were, a fair, sweet, happy child, when we wandered together among the mountains of Ungava—and dreamed of you as I fancied you must have become, and as I now find you to be. Yes, beloved girl, my heart has owned but one image since we parted, years ago, on the banks of the Caniapuscaw River. Your letters have been my bosom friends in all my long, long wanderings through the wilderness; and the hope of seeing you has gladdened my heart and nerved my arm. I have heard your sighs in every gentle air that stirred the trees, and your merry laugh in the rippling waters. Even in the tempest’s roar and the thundering cataract I have fancied that I heard you calling for assistance; and many a time and oft I have leaped from my couch to find that I did but dream. But they were pleasant and very precious dreams to me. O Edith! I have remembered you, and thought of you, and loved you, through months and years of banishment! And now—”
Again was heard the peculiar sound that had thrilled with dismay the bosom of the weak young man.
“Halo! whence came this charger?” shouted a hale, hearty voice, as Stanley walked towards the bower. “Eh! what have we here?” he exclaimed, rushing forward and seizing the stranger in his arms,—“Frank—Frank Morton!”
This was too much. The weak young man suddenly became strong as Hercules. He turned and fled down the avenue like a deer. The pony, having managed to unfasten its bridle, stood in the centre of the way gazing down the avenue with its back towards its master. Unwonted fire nerved the youth’s limbs; with one bound he vaulted leap frog over the animal’s back into the saddle, dashed his spurs into its sides, and fled like a whirlwind from the scene of his despair.
Frank Morton and George Stanley, being both men of promptitude and decision, resolved that one month was long enough to make preparations for the marriage; and Edith, being the most dutiful daughter that ever lived, did what she was bid.
That beautiful cottage which stands in the midst of most exquisite scenery, about two miles from Stanley’s villa, is inhabited by Frank Morton and his family. That crow which you have just heard proceed from the nursery was uttered by the youngest of five; and yonder little boy with broad shoulders, who thrusts his hands into his pockets in a decided manner, and whistles vociferously as he swaggers down the avenue, is Master George F. Morton, on his way to school.
La Roche and Bryan were so fortunate as to be appointed to the same establishment after leaving Ungava—somewhere near the mouth of the Mackenzie River, and within the region of all but perpetual frost and snow. They are sometimes visited by Esquimaux, which is fortunate; for, as Bryan says, “it guves him an opportunity o’ studyin’ the peecoolier dialects o’ their lingo.”
Dick Prince was the only one who lost his life in the “forlorn-hope.” He was drowned while out shooting in the bay alone in his canoe. A sudden storm upset his frail bark and left him struggling in the water. Prince was a strong swimmer, and he battled long for his life; but the ice-laden sea benumbed his hardy limbs, and he sank at last, without a cry, to rise no more. He was a noble specimen of his class—a brave, modest, unobtrusive son of the forest, beloved and respected by his companions; and when his warm heart ceased to beat, it was felt by all that a bright star of the wilderness had been quenched for ever. His body was found next day on the beach, and was interred by his mourning comrades in a little spot of ground behind the fort. It was many a long day after this melancholy event ere Massan could smile; and when the fort was finally deserted, he put in practice his long-meditated intention of becoming a hunter and taking to the Rocky Mountains, where he wanders now, if he has escaped the claws of the dreaded grizzly bear and the scalping-knife of the Red Indian.
Moses, finding the life of a fur-trader not quite to his taste, rejoined his countrymen, and reverted to killing seals and eating raw blubber. The two Indians also returned to a purely savage life, which, indeed, they had only forsaken for a time. Augustus and Oolibuck died; and the latter left a son, who has already rendered good service as interpreter to the arctic expeditions, as his worthy father did before him. François and Gaspard are still together at one of the posts of the interior. They are now fast friends, and have many a talk over the days when they quarrelled and messed together at Fort Chimo.
As for the poor Esquimaux, they were for a time quite inconsolable at the departure of the fur-traders, and with a species of childlike simplicity, hung about the bay, in the hope that they might, after all, return. Then they went off in a body to the westward, and the region of Ungava, to which they had never been partial, was left in its original dreary solitude. It may be that some good had been done to the souls of these poor natives during their brief intercourse with the traders. We cannot tell, and we refrain from guessing or speculating on a subject so serious. But of this we are assured—if one grain of the good seed has been sown, it may long lie dormant, but itcannotdie.
Maximus accompanied his countrymen, along with Aneetka and Old Moggy, who soon assumed the native costume, and completely identified herself with the Esquimaux. Maximus was now a great man among his people, who regarded with deep respect the man who had travelled through the lands of the Indians, had fought with the red men, single-handed, and had visited the fur-traders of the south. But the travelled Esquimaux was in reality a greater man than his fellows supposed him to be. He fully appreciated the advantages to be derived from a trading-post near their ice-girt lands, and resolved, when opportunity should offer, to do all in his power to strengthen the friendship now subsisting between the Indians and the Esquimaux of Ungava, and to induce his countrymen, if possible, to travel south towards the establishment on James’s Bay.
He still retains, however, a lingering affection for the spot where he had spent so many happy days, and at least once a year he undertakes a solitary journey to the rugged mountains that encircled Fort Chimo. As in days of yore, with wallet on shoulder and seal-spear in hand, the giant strides from rock to rock along the now silent banks of the Caniapuscaw River. Once again he seats himself on the flat rock beside the spring, and gazes round in sadness on those wild, majestic hills, or bends his eye upon the bright green spot that indicates the ancient site of the trading-post, not a vestige of which is now visible, save the little wooden cross that marks the lonely grave of Dick Prince; and the broad chest of the giant heaves with emotion as he views these records of the past, and calls to mind the merry shouts and joyous songs that used to gladden that dreary spot, the warm hearth at which he was wont to find a hearty welcome, and the kind comrades who are now gone for ever. Ungava spreads, in all its dark sterility, around him, as it did in the days before the traders landed there; and that bright interval of busy life, in which he had acted so prominent a part, seems now but the fleeting fancy of a bright and pleasant dream.