Chapter Nine.The Indian School Examinations—The Prizes—Noble Indian Boys—The Skates to Kepastick—The Various Sports—Foot Races—The Skating Race—Tricky Clerk outwitted—Frank and Kepastick tie as Winners—Football—Hockey.The day for the examinations and sports at the mission school arrived in due time. Fortunately, it was a very beautiful day, although it was many degrees below zero. But nobody now minded that. There were no fogs, or mists, or damps, and the dry, steady cold is always much more healthy and invigorating than changeable weather in any land. Everybody invited was present, and so the day’s full program was well carried out.Mr McTavish, a chief factor in the Hudson Bay Company’s service and the chief officer at the Norway House trading post, presided at the school examinations, which began promptly at nine o’clock. The schoolhouse was packed with the children and their friends, except the large platform at the upper end of the schoolroom, on which were seated the white visitors from Sagasta-weekee and the trading posts and mission.The children were first examined in their reading lessons in both languages, Cree and English. In their own language they used the syllabic characters, invented and perfected by the Reverend James Evans, the founder of this mission. These syllabics, as their name indicates, each represent a syllable. The result is there is no spelling, and just as soon as a pupil, young or old, has once mastered these characters he begins to read. Three weeks or a month is considered quite sufficient time in which to teach a person of ordinary intelligence to read fluently.Mr Evans was several years in perfecting this invention. He begged from the traders the sheet lead that is found around the tea in tea chests. Then, making little bars of this lead, he carved out his first type. His first paper was made out of birch bark. His first press he made himself. His first ink was made out of soot mixed with sturgeon oil. Many were his difficulties and discouragements, but he triumphed over them all, and now here were hundreds of Indians reading in their own language the word of God.The whole Bible, with some hundreds of hymns and a few volumes of good books, “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “The Path of Life,” and others, have been translated and printed in these syllabic characters. The old Indians prize them very much, but it is interesting to note that, just as soon as the younger Indians understand English and get to be able to read in it, they prefer it to their own language and books.The examinations in arithmetic, grammar, and geography were rather limited. It could not have been otherwise in such a place. All were, however, delighted with the splendid examination each class passed through in Bible history. The Indians have wonderful memories, and here the children delighted all with their knowledge of events from the creation down, and the accuracy with which they could quote long portions of the sacred book. The writing also won a great many complimentary remarks from all, and it is safe to assert that very few schools among white people could have made a better showing. The recitations were good, considering that they were uttered in a foreign tongue. The singing was delightful. The children sang in the two languages, and the soft, sweet, liquid Cree did not suffer in pathos and beauty in comparison with the more vigorous English. Of course, a number of prizes were given. A beautiful incident occurred when the prizes for the best recitations of the fourteenth chapter of Saint John’s gospel were being distributed. Among the competitors was a poor lad who, when a babe, had been so bitten in the hand and arm by a wolf that the arm had to be cut off near the body. Competing with him were several other bright boys. The chief prize was a splendid pair of new skates, which Frank had generously given for this competition. So even had been the boys, or rather so perfect were they in reciting, that the judges hesitated about selecting the winner of the first prize. When the boys who were well, and unmaimed, observed this there was a short, quiet consultation between them, and then one rose up and, respectfully addressing Mr Mctavish, said that the boys who had two hands, as well as two feet, had more ways of having sport and fun than Kepastick, who had only one hand, and so they asked him to have the judges decide that Kepastick should have the skates. Noble fellows! but that is just like young Christian Indian boys. The white people present were much moved by this beautiful incident of quiet unselfishness, and soon arranged that those kind-hearted lads should not go unrewarded.By twelve o’clock the most successful examination of the school, up to that time, was over. The prizes were distributed, and while all the white people, as was customary, accepted the missionary’s invitation and dined at the parsonage, the Indians sped away home for a brief dinner, and were then soon all back again, to compete in or to witness the sports.The first races were run by some little girls. The distance was only a few hundred yards and back. These races caused a lot of fun and enjoyment. The prizes were little handkerchiefs, strings of beads, and other trifling things in which little Indian girls rejoice, and of course every little competitor must have a prize. Then there were races for little boys. It was great fun to see the sturdy little fellows so gallantly strive for victory. Meanwhile arrangements were being made for the more important races of the day. The courses had been marked out previously with flags, and so every class knew its course and ran accordingly. The fleetness and endurance of some of even the small boys were wonderful, and great was the interest, and even intense at times the excitement, when several well-matched competitors gamely struggled on for victory. In the races open to all comers the larger Indian boys were disappointed that none of the whites had entered, as they were anxious to test their own speed against them. There were races worth going across a continent to witness, and genuine and hearty was the applause that greeted the winners, who came in at such a rate that the white boys, while cheering as heartily as the others, saw how wise they had been in declining to put themselves against such runners as White Antelope or Spotted Deer, the winners.When the skating matches were called, Frank promptly entered the lists. His appearance was received with applause. Even the quiet Indian lads tried to make a noise to show their pleasure in greeting the handsome, manly fellow whose splendid gift had gone to Kepastick, the one-armed lad. Two or three young clerks or fur traders also entered for the race, one of them being the young man who had so abruptly left Alec the night of his fearful race with the wolves. The route marked out for the skaters covered in all about ten or twelve miles. It, however, so twisted in and out among the islands on the frozen lake, that many of the competitors would be in sight nearly all of the time. That the intending skaters might thoroughly understand the route, it had been marked out a week or ten days before the race, and it had been thoroughly understood that any of the competitors were at perfect liberty to skate over the grounds and get familiar with the different turning places, marked by little red flags.Frank, with Alec as a companion and trainer, accompanied by one of Mr Ross’s servants, who was also a splendid skater, had gone over the route two or three times, and so was quite familiar with it. A little before the race began he was quite surprised to have this Indian skater call him aside and tell him to be careful and keep his eye on the correct route, and also to guard himself against that young white man who had deserted Alec. He then added:“Watch the Indian with one arm; his heart is good toward you.”Then, putting his fingers to his lips as a sign of caution, the Indian quickly slipped away among the crowd. This very much perplexed and bothered Frank, especially when Mr Ross said to him:“Keep your eyes on the lookout for the flags—the Indian lads are so familiar with the route that they will not bother to notice them; and look out for tricks from those whose faces, like your own, are white.”There were perhaps twenty competitors in the great race. As the distance was so long it was not very essential that they should get off at the same instant. There would doubtless be those who depended on rapid bursts of speed to carry them to the front, and so a second or two made but little difference at first. At the report of a gun away they flew. They had all sorts of skates and all kinds of styles. With ten or twelve miles’ work before them, none, except some of the younger lads, tried to do their very best at first. Frank naturally wished to skate in company with his white companions, but they sullenly refused the offered society. Insulted and annoyed at this conduct, and remembering the warning words of Mr Ross, and also of his faithful servant, he just made up his mind to be on the alert, and if it were possible he would be in the first of the palefaces. On and on they sped, until a couple of miles at least were covered. Then they had reached a spot where the route lay between two rocky islands not a hundred feet apart. The ice here was beautifully smooth, and being well-sheltered was as clear as glass. With a wild whoop the Indians dashed on across it, and at the same time, rather to Frank’s surprise, one of the clerks, putting on a rapid burst of speed, dashed directly in front of him, in the centre of this narrow place. Frank, with his suspicions all aroused, keenly watched him, and to his astonishment saw him deliberately but cautiously let slowly trickle from his hands fine streams of the white crystal quartz sand of that country. To have skated over it would have so dulled his keen-edged skates that anything like victory would have been impossible. There are times when the mind works rapidly, and so it did here with Frank. The first thought was to shout out and expose the villainy. The next was to evade the trap and for the present say nothing about it, and see what trick would next he tried. So, quickly veering to the windward side sufficiently to make it sure that he would escape the sand, he rapidly sped along, humiliated and indignant that a white man would try a trick that an Indian would scorn to do.On and on they flew. The route turned and twisted, and in several of the windings it brought them in fair view of the excited group on the mission hill who watched their progress, for now more than one half of the route was covered. They were now entering a kind of a maze among the islands, where persons not thoroughly acquainted with the route required to keep a vigilant eye on the different flags. In the front group was Frank, and closely edging beside him, he noticed with pleasure, was Kepastick, the one-armed lad, with his beautiful new skates, now serving him grandly and well.“Chist!” said the Indian lad quickly, and Frank knew by the way that this word, which means “look,” was uttered that there was something meant. Letting the boy glide just ahead of him, Frank caught the meaning of his words, though uttered in broken English:“Some bad hearts change flags to bother Frank. Frank keep near Kepastick. He knows the trail.”These friendly words were uttered none too soon, for Frank saw at once that even some of the Indians, trusting to the flags, were perplexed and some had gone hopelessly astray. With a rush and a jeer of triumph a white clerk made an attempt to fly by, for once out of that labyrinth of crooked icy channels the home stretch was as straight as an arrow. Frank was for responding to his spurt with an effort equally desperate, when Kepastick checked him with:“One Indian, good heart, meet clerk’s bad heart; all right yet.”Frank, now completely bewildered, yielded himself implicitly to the guidance of Kepastick, who moved on with all confidence and paid not the slightest attention to the flags.Look! Away beyond the islands, in the distance, shining in the sunlight, is the steeple of the mission church. Just a few more windings in these tortuous channels, and then the two miles’ dash for home. Most of the Indians—for their skates were poor—have fallen in the rear. The one white man whom Frank despises is perhaps a hundred yards ahead, and not far behind him are his companions. With intense interest Kepastick is watching them.“Chist!” he cries again, and his dark eyes flashed with excitement; “the trail is ours!”It seems that there ran out from that place two channels that looked very much alike. The correct one had been flagged several days before, but the previous evening the clerk had skated over and had flagged the wrong channel. Sharp eyes had been on him and had discovered his trick, and these misplaced flags had been replaced at their proper positions, while the others had been left as the villain had placed them. Thus thrown off his guard, he blindly dashed into the wrong channel. The rocky shores were high and abrupt, and so Kepastick and Frank shot by the trap and into the correct channel, and were hundreds of yards out on the now open lake, with their faces toward home, ere the plotters discovered, to their dismay, how they had been completely foiled. As rapidly as possible they turned, but the distance could not be made up, and so to their chagrin they not only found that Frank and Kepastick had tied first, but that six or seven Indians, some with home-made skates, had wholly beaten them.As the miserable trickster passed Frank on the shore some time after, in the presence of the chief factor, Mr Ross, and several others, Frank sternly looked at him and uttered the one word “Sand”. None but the two then knew what was meant, but the guilty rascal paled, and so trembled that it seemed as though he would fall to the ground. Very soon was he out of that company. Next day he asked to be transferred to another post, which request was cheerfully granted. It was a long time before Frank told of his contemptible conduct. When Mr Ross at length heard of it he communicated at once with the head officers of the Hudson Bay Company in reference to conduct so dishonourable, and the result was that the poor fellow, who had not improved over such actions in other places, was ignominiously expelled from the service.Meanwhile the other sports were progressing finely. The football teams crowned themselves with many honours. The games were not fought on any strict Rugby rules. The goals were set in the ice, about four or five times as distant from each other as is the case in civilisation. Then two captains were named, and they selected their men and boys alternately, until all who wished to play were chosen. Then each side was lined up at their own goal. The ball was placed away out in the centre between them. At the firing of a gun there was a wild rush, and the side that had the fleetest runners thus secured the first kick. The ball was not to be thrown or carried. It was to be kicked, and could be struck with the hand or head. The game was fast and furious while it lasted. It was always in ground, and there was no hold up until it went between the poles of one or the other side. The cries of “Foul” were never heard, and umpires were only needed at the poles to shout out when a goal was won. It was a jolly, lively, easily understood game of football, enjoyed by all. Generally five wins in nine plays was the rule.The hockey games were like those played by men and boys in civilised lands, only here everybody who wished to play was paired with somebody else, so as to keep the sides even. Everybody not otherwise engaged enthusiastically took a hand in it, and the fun was very great. Mr Hurlburt, Mr Ross, Hudson Bay officers, as well as all down to the smallest Indian lad who could handle a crooked stick, had a share in this game. The day was so cold, and the smooth ice expanse so great, that the vigorous exercise did everybody good.The tobogganing games were given over entirely to the girls to compete in, and skillfully and well did they acquit themselves. The other minor games also gave great satisfaction, and afforded any amount of amusement.We reserve for the next chapter the story of the great race of the rival dog-trains, which for long years after was talked about in many a wigwam and at many a camp fire.
The day for the examinations and sports at the mission school arrived in due time. Fortunately, it was a very beautiful day, although it was many degrees below zero. But nobody now minded that. There were no fogs, or mists, or damps, and the dry, steady cold is always much more healthy and invigorating than changeable weather in any land. Everybody invited was present, and so the day’s full program was well carried out.
Mr McTavish, a chief factor in the Hudson Bay Company’s service and the chief officer at the Norway House trading post, presided at the school examinations, which began promptly at nine o’clock. The schoolhouse was packed with the children and their friends, except the large platform at the upper end of the schoolroom, on which were seated the white visitors from Sagasta-weekee and the trading posts and mission.
The children were first examined in their reading lessons in both languages, Cree and English. In their own language they used the syllabic characters, invented and perfected by the Reverend James Evans, the founder of this mission. These syllabics, as their name indicates, each represent a syllable. The result is there is no spelling, and just as soon as a pupil, young or old, has once mastered these characters he begins to read. Three weeks or a month is considered quite sufficient time in which to teach a person of ordinary intelligence to read fluently.
Mr Evans was several years in perfecting this invention. He begged from the traders the sheet lead that is found around the tea in tea chests. Then, making little bars of this lead, he carved out his first type. His first paper was made out of birch bark. His first press he made himself. His first ink was made out of soot mixed with sturgeon oil. Many were his difficulties and discouragements, but he triumphed over them all, and now here were hundreds of Indians reading in their own language the word of God.
The whole Bible, with some hundreds of hymns and a few volumes of good books, “Pilgrim’s Progress,” “The Path of Life,” and others, have been translated and printed in these syllabic characters. The old Indians prize them very much, but it is interesting to note that, just as soon as the younger Indians understand English and get to be able to read in it, they prefer it to their own language and books.
The examinations in arithmetic, grammar, and geography were rather limited. It could not have been otherwise in such a place. All were, however, delighted with the splendid examination each class passed through in Bible history. The Indians have wonderful memories, and here the children delighted all with their knowledge of events from the creation down, and the accuracy with which they could quote long portions of the sacred book. The writing also won a great many complimentary remarks from all, and it is safe to assert that very few schools among white people could have made a better showing. The recitations were good, considering that they were uttered in a foreign tongue. The singing was delightful. The children sang in the two languages, and the soft, sweet, liquid Cree did not suffer in pathos and beauty in comparison with the more vigorous English. Of course, a number of prizes were given. A beautiful incident occurred when the prizes for the best recitations of the fourteenth chapter of Saint John’s gospel were being distributed. Among the competitors was a poor lad who, when a babe, had been so bitten in the hand and arm by a wolf that the arm had to be cut off near the body. Competing with him were several other bright boys. The chief prize was a splendid pair of new skates, which Frank had generously given for this competition. So even had been the boys, or rather so perfect were they in reciting, that the judges hesitated about selecting the winner of the first prize. When the boys who were well, and unmaimed, observed this there was a short, quiet consultation between them, and then one rose up and, respectfully addressing Mr Mctavish, said that the boys who had two hands, as well as two feet, had more ways of having sport and fun than Kepastick, who had only one hand, and so they asked him to have the judges decide that Kepastick should have the skates. Noble fellows! but that is just like young Christian Indian boys. The white people present were much moved by this beautiful incident of quiet unselfishness, and soon arranged that those kind-hearted lads should not go unrewarded.
By twelve o’clock the most successful examination of the school, up to that time, was over. The prizes were distributed, and while all the white people, as was customary, accepted the missionary’s invitation and dined at the parsonage, the Indians sped away home for a brief dinner, and were then soon all back again, to compete in or to witness the sports.
The first races were run by some little girls. The distance was only a few hundred yards and back. These races caused a lot of fun and enjoyment. The prizes were little handkerchiefs, strings of beads, and other trifling things in which little Indian girls rejoice, and of course every little competitor must have a prize. Then there were races for little boys. It was great fun to see the sturdy little fellows so gallantly strive for victory. Meanwhile arrangements were being made for the more important races of the day. The courses had been marked out previously with flags, and so every class knew its course and ran accordingly. The fleetness and endurance of some of even the small boys were wonderful, and great was the interest, and even intense at times the excitement, when several well-matched competitors gamely struggled on for victory. In the races open to all comers the larger Indian boys were disappointed that none of the whites had entered, as they were anxious to test their own speed against them. There were races worth going across a continent to witness, and genuine and hearty was the applause that greeted the winners, who came in at such a rate that the white boys, while cheering as heartily as the others, saw how wise they had been in declining to put themselves against such runners as White Antelope or Spotted Deer, the winners.
When the skating matches were called, Frank promptly entered the lists. His appearance was received with applause. Even the quiet Indian lads tried to make a noise to show their pleasure in greeting the handsome, manly fellow whose splendid gift had gone to Kepastick, the one-armed lad. Two or three young clerks or fur traders also entered for the race, one of them being the young man who had so abruptly left Alec the night of his fearful race with the wolves. The route marked out for the skaters covered in all about ten or twelve miles. It, however, so twisted in and out among the islands on the frozen lake, that many of the competitors would be in sight nearly all of the time. That the intending skaters might thoroughly understand the route, it had been marked out a week or ten days before the race, and it had been thoroughly understood that any of the competitors were at perfect liberty to skate over the grounds and get familiar with the different turning places, marked by little red flags.
Frank, with Alec as a companion and trainer, accompanied by one of Mr Ross’s servants, who was also a splendid skater, had gone over the route two or three times, and so was quite familiar with it. A little before the race began he was quite surprised to have this Indian skater call him aside and tell him to be careful and keep his eye on the correct route, and also to guard himself against that young white man who had deserted Alec. He then added:
“Watch the Indian with one arm; his heart is good toward you.”
Then, putting his fingers to his lips as a sign of caution, the Indian quickly slipped away among the crowd. This very much perplexed and bothered Frank, especially when Mr Ross said to him:
“Keep your eyes on the lookout for the flags—the Indian lads are so familiar with the route that they will not bother to notice them; and look out for tricks from those whose faces, like your own, are white.”
There were perhaps twenty competitors in the great race. As the distance was so long it was not very essential that they should get off at the same instant. There would doubtless be those who depended on rapid bursts of speed to carry them to the front, and so a second or two made but little difference at first. At the report of a gun away they flew. They had all sorts of skates and all kinds of styles. With ten or twelve miles’ work before them, none, except some of the younger lads, tried to do their very best at first. Frank naturally wished to skate in company with his white companions, but they sullenly refused the offered society. Insulted and annoyed at this conduct, and remembering the warning words of Mr Ross, and also of his faithful servant, he just made up his mind to be on the alert, and if it were possible he would be in the first of the palefaces. On and on they sped, until a couple of miles at least were covered. Then they had reached a spot where the route lay between two rocky islands not a hundred feet apart. The ice here was beautifully smooth, and being well-sheltered was as clear as glass. With a wild whoop the Indians dashed on across it, and at the same time, rather to Frank’s surprise, one of the clerks, putting on a rapid burst of speed, dashed directly in front of him, in the centre of this narrow place. Frank, with his suspicions all aroused, keenly watched him, and to his astonishment saw him deliberately but cautiously let slowly trickle from his hands fine streams of the white crystal quartz sand of that country. To have skated over it would have so dulled his keen-edged skates that anything like victory would have been impossible. There are times when the mind works rapidly, and so it did here with Frank. The first thought was to shout out and expose the villainy. The next was to evade the trap and for the present say nothing about it, and see what trick would next he tried. So, quickly veering to the windward side sufficiently to make it sure that he would escape the sand, he rapidly sped along, humiliated and indignant that a white man would try a trick that an Indian would scorn to do.
On and on they flew. The route turned and twisted, and in several of the windings it brought them in fair view of the excited group on the mission hill who watched their progress, for now more than one half of the route was covered. They were now entering a kind of a maze among the islands, where persons not thoroughly acquainted with the route required to keep a vigilant eye on the different flags. In the front group was Frank, and closely edging beside him, he noticed with pleasure, was Kepastick, the one-armed lad, with his beautiful new skates, now serving him grandly and well.
“Chist!” said the Indian lad quickly, and Frank knew by the way that this word, which means “look,” was uttered that there was something meant. Letting the boy glide just ahead of him, Frank caught the meaning of his words, though uttered in broken English:
“Some bad hearts change flags to bother Frank. Frank keep near Kepastick. He knows the trail.”
These friendly words were uttered none too soon, for Frank saw at once that even some of the Indians, trusting to the flags, were perplexed and some had gone hopelessly astray. With a rush and a jeer of triumph a white clerk made an attempt to fly by, for once out of that labyrinth of crooked icy channels the home stretch was as straight as an arrow. Frank was for responding to his spurt with an effort equally desperate, when Kepastick checked him with:
“One Indian, good heart, meet clerk’s bad heart; all right yet.”
Frank, now completely bewildered, yielded himself implicitly to the guidance of Kepastick, who moved on with all confidence and paid not the slightest attention to the flags.
Look! Away beyond the islands, in the distance, shining in the sunlight, is the steeple of the mission church. Just a few more windings in these tortuous channels, and then the two miles’ dash for home. Most of the Indians—for their skates were poor—have fallen in the rear. The one white man whom Frank despises is perhaps a hundred yards ahead, and not far behind him are his companions. With intense interest Kepastick is watching them.
“Chist!” he cries again, and his dark eyes flashed with excitement; “the trail is ours!”
It seems that there ran out from that place two channels that looked very much alike. The correct one had been flagged several days before, but the previous evening the clerk had skated over and had flagged the wrong channel. Sharp eyes had been on him and had discovered his trick, and these misplaced flags had been replaced at their proper positions, while the others had been left as the villain had placed them. Thus thrown off his guard, he blindly dashed into the wrong channel. The rocky shores were high and abrupt, and so Kepastick and Frank shot by the trap and into the correct channel, and were hundreds of yards out on the now open lake, with their faces toward home, ere the plotters discovered, to their dismay, how they had been completely foiled. As rapidly as possible they turned, but the distance could not be made up, and so to their chagrin they not only found that Frank and Kepastick had tied first, but that six or seven Indians, some with home-made skates, had wholly beaten them.
As the miserable trickster passed Frank on the shore some time after, in the presence of the chief factor, Mr Ross, and several others, Frank sternly looked at him and uttered the one word “Sand”. None but the two then knew what was meant, but the guilty rascal paled, and so trembled that it seemed as though he would fall to the ground. Very soon was he out of that company. Next day he asked to be transferred to another post, which request was cheerfully granted. It was a long time before Frank told of his contemptible conduct. When Mr Ross at length heard of it he communicated at once with the head officers of the Hudson Bay Company in reference to conduct so dishonourable, and the result was that the poor fellow, who had not improved over such actions in other places, was ignominiously expelled from the service.
Meanwhile the other sports were progressing finely. The football teams crowned themselves with many honours. The games were not fought on any strict Rugby rules. The goals were set in the ice, about four or five times as distant from each other as is the case in civilisation. Then two captains were named, and they selected their men and boys alternately, until all who wished to play were chosen. Then each side was lined up at their own goal. The ball was placed away out in the centre between them. At the firing of a gun there was a wild rush, and the side that had the fleetest runners thus secured the first kick. The ball was not to be thrown or carried. It was to be kicked, and could be struck with the hand or head. The game was fast and furious while it lasted. It was always in ground, and there was no hold up until it went between the poles of one or the other side. The cries of “Foul” were never heard, and umpires were only needed at the poles to shout out when a goal was won. It was a jolly, lively, easily understood game of football, enjoyed by all. Generally five wins in nine plays was the rule.
The hockey games were like those played by men and boys in civilised lands, only here everybody who wished to play was paired with somebody else, so as to keep the sides even. Everybody not otherwise engaged enthusiastically took a hand in it, and the fun was very great. Mr Hurlburt, Mr Ross, Hudson Bay officers, as well as all down to the smallest Indian lad who could handle a crooked stick, had a share in this game. The day was so cold, and the smooth ice expanse so great, that the vigorous exercise did everybody good.
The tobogganing games were given over entirely to the girls to compete in, and skillfully and well did they acquit themselves. The other minor games also gave great satisfaction, and afforded any amount of amusement.
We reserve for the next chapter the story of the great race of the rival dog-trains, which for long years after was talked about in many a wigwam and at many a camp fire.
Chapter Ten.The Great Race with the Dog-trains—Careful Preparations by Alec—The Different Breathing Places—The Treacherous Half-breeds—Their Signal Failure—Alec’s Triumph.And now for the races with the dogs. These were looked forward to with the greatest interest. All sorts of rumours were afloat of some wonderful surprises in store. Fortunately for all parties concerned, including the dogs, there had been a great abundance of fish during the last few years, and so every Indian wigwam and house fairly swarmed with dogs, of all sizes and degree. In other years, when fish failed and the herd of reindeer came not, as a last resort against starvation the dogs went into the soup pot. But they had fared better lately, and so now they were all in the finest trim, and the trained ones were as eager here for the races as were their masters.There were about a dozen trains that contended for the victory in this next race. There were to be four prizes given. Alec, with his splendid houndlike dogs, seemed a certain victor. However, as from different parts the dogs came into position and were eagerly scanned by those present, it was seen that there were many trains that would make a gallant race ere they or their magnificently developed drivers would even take a second place. Alec and a young clerk were the only whites in the race. Then there were three half-breed fur traders, and the rest of the competitors were pure Indians.The Indian carpenter at Sagasta-weekee had made for Alec a splendid birch toboggan-like sled for this race. It was very light, and so the maker had sewed and re-sewed it, and so stiffened it with the sinews of the reindeer that it was as strong as a piece of steel. He had fastened a seat in it so cleverly that if the sled went over the seat collapsed like a rubber ball and as quickly resumed its position when the sled was righted. Old Memotas had especially manufactured the harnesses for this event. He made them out of the softest and lightest mooseskin that Mr Ross could buy for him. It took Memotas a long time to get the right kind of traces to satisfy his experienced eye. After testing a good deal of leather he settled down on a set of very long ones, that would not at all interfere with the long, springy movements of these beautiful houndlike dogs.The start was to be from the foot of the mission hill on the ice. The route marked out, and along which Indians had now been stationed, was first to be the trading post, a distance of two and a half miles. Here each train would be detained exactly five minutes. At the expiration of the five minutes the next part of the race would begin. This was to Sagasta-weekee, a distance of perhaps five miles. Here there was to be a compulsory wait of ten minutes for each train, and then the dash back by the straight route to the mission, a distance, say, of six miles. Some of the Indians wanted the distance to be at least doubled, but this could not be allowed. These races and prizes were only designed to encourage the Indians to be kind and careful with their dogs, as only by such treatment could they be brought to be of the highest use to them in that land where they are so much needed.Amid a good deal of barking, and some growls from some of the more quarrelsome dogs, the cry of “Marche!” was shouted, and they were off. Some especially clever Indian trains were the first to respond to the call and sprang to the front. Some of the drivers were going to run; others, like Alec, intended to ride, while perhaps the greater number would ride or run as they judged best in the excitement of the race. Each driver, Alec included, had a splendid dog-whip, but it was a long time since a dog of Alec’s was struck. Indeed, the first one to receive a powerful blow was the leader dog of a train beside which Alec was running. As Bruce came alongside, and was slowly forging ahead, the vicious brute made a spring at him. Quick as it was, it was observed by his Indian master, who, although more than twelve feet from him in the rear, sent out so speedily and accurately that long, heavy, snake-like whiplash that it caught the brute on the nose with such force that, with a howl of pain, he turned to the front before any damage had been done. A few seconds later Alec and this Indian driver sped on right and left of a couple of trains mixed-up in terrible confusion, while their drivers, a white man and a half-breed, were in anything but a pleasant mood. On and on they fairly flew. Alec had been warned to guard against running into some of the vicious dog-trains, as some of them had teeth like wolves, and one fierce attack might easily disable one of his lighter dogs.Without mishap Alec reached the fort, and found that five trains were there ahead of him. In a minute or two most of the others arrived. Even those tangled up had speedily unloosened, and had not lost more than a couple of minutes by their collision. Exactly as each train’s five minutes expired, away they flew for a long run for Sagasta-weekee. The ice was in fairly good condition for travelling, although there were long stretches where it was so absolutely smooth and glassy that some of the dogs would slip and slide in spite of their best efforts to the contrary. On this smooth ice the Eskimos and the mongrels had the advantage, as they had such hard feet that they very seldom slipped. The feet of Alec’s dogs were perhaps the worse for these smooth icy places, and so he found that it was necessary, where the travelling was good, for him to urge his dogs more than he had intended, to make up for what he lost in the glassy places. Thus on they sped, and when Sagasta-weekee was reached Alec found three trains ahead of him and a couple alongside of his own and others close behind him. Ten minutes was the time allotted for the rest here. The instant Alec had arrived Memotas was at his side, and with him at once examined his dogs and compared his train with those that had thus far kept ahead. Memotas was delighted with the inspection, for, while the other trains seemed about exhausted at the terrific rate their drivers had pushed them, Alec’s were as playful and lively as though the race had only begun. So, barring accident or foul play, there seemed to be no reason why Alec should not win with flying colours. Two of the half-breeds with very vicious trains now pushed on with four minutes of a start. An Indian followed two minutes after, and then in four minutes more Alec and those who had arrived at the same time as he did were again ready for the final run of the six-mile home stretch. Just as Alec was leaving faithful, alert Memotas said to him, as he tucked him in:“Be on your guard against those two half-breeds and their vicious dogs. Try and not pass them in a narrow place. There is mischief in their hearts. Be wise.”“Marche!” and he was off.For the first time now his blood began to tingle, and he entered into the wild, joyous enthusiasm of the race. He had become an expert in the use of his whip over the backs of his splendid dogs. Skillfully he whirled it, and its pistol-like report rang out over them, but not once did it inflict a stinging blow.“Ho! ho! my gallants! With Scotland’s best staghound’s blood in your veins, and Scotland’s names, my bonny dogs, for Scotland win the day!”He must needs hurry now, for fleet trains are around him and some ahead of him, with drivers just as keen and eager to win as he, and every one of them accustomed to dog-driving for years. Victors are some of them in previous contests, and not one of them is disposed to see a white lad from across the sea come and wrest their honour from them. Whips are flying now in earnest, and the dogs of other trains are waking up to realise that there is fire in their masters’ eyes and strength in their arms and a burning sting at the end of the heavy lash. With terrific rushes they make their desperate efforts to forge to the front. Alec, excited now to the highest pitch, calls as never before to his dogs:“Marche! Bruce, up! Up, Wallace! and you Gelert, and my bonny Lorne. Ho! ho! Away, away, my bonny dogs! Away! away!”Grandly did they respond. They too have caught the enthusiasm of the hour, and as in clock-like unison in those long, light traces they stretched themselves out and fairly flew over the icy surface, they seemed to lift the light sled and its driver as a thing of naught.Steady, Alec! Keep well balanced now. You have shaken off every sled that started in this last dash with you, but there are stubborn competitors ahead, and there are rough places where an upset at such a speed means disaster as well as defeat. But he thinks naught of these things; his Scottish caution has gone to the winds, and with dauntless courage he keeps up his cheering cries. Rapidly does he gain on a powerful train ahead of him, and just as he begins to fly past it the vicious leader turns and springs at Bruce. He fails in his attempt on account of the slippery ice, and falls directly in front of the oncoming train.“Marche! Bruce!” shouts Alec, and with a mighty bound the gallant fellow responds and springs directly over his prostrate assailant. Quickly follow Wallace, Gelert, and Lorne. With a stunning blow Alec’s sled hits the still struggling brute. Well now is it for Alec that the cautious builder of that light sled had strengthened it with deerskin sinews till it was tough and strong. And so it stood that fierce shock, and, with its sturdy occupant unseated, over the great dog, with undiminished speed, it goes. Before him now are the two great trains of the half-breeds. These are the men and trains about which Memotas whispered his words of caution. And well is it for Alec that he was put on his guard. Before them for a mile or so is the narrowest part of the route. The good ice in places did not average more than from fifty to a hundred feet across. Plenty of room, anyone might say, for three dog-trains to rush by (it) at the same time. Yes, if all are fair and honourable, but not wide enough for the safety of the third if the other two are determined to stop him at all hazards.If there was one thing more than another in which Alec had carefully trained his dogs it was for them to respond to his voice, and quickly move to the right or left, as he spoke to them. Like some other drivers, he had them so well-trained that no horse responds to the pull on the reins more promptly than did his dogs to his voice. As Alec rapidly gained on these trains he observed that they were running about parallel to each other, and that the width of the ice was about the same between them and each shore. This so equally divided the ice that it made it difficult to decide whether to try and pass between them, or on one side or the other. Alec’s first wish was to see if they were really working together against him, and so he shouted to his dogs as though he would clash in between them. At once they began to close up from each side to block his way. Quickly checking his dogs before there was a collision, he then tried the call to the right hand, and here the same plan was again pursued. It was evident, seeing that they would both be beaten in a fair race, they were resolved, by sacrificing one train, that the other should win at any cost from this white lad. Their dogs were large and fierce, and at one word from their master, if a collision occurred, would fasten on the lighter and younger dogs of Alec, with disastrous results. So Alec, who saw the plan, resolved that there should be no collision with his train if he could help it. All this time the speed was fairly kept up, and alert and watchful was each driver, although not a word was spoken among them. After a little more manoeuvring from side to side Alec observed that his dogs were quicker to respond to his voice than were theirs, and so he resolved to try and confuse them and throw them off their guard. In this he at length succeeded. When, with a great show, it appeared that he was going to dash between them he suddenly checked his dogs just as the other two trains closed in to block his way. Quickly they saw their danger, and tried to avert it, but they were too late. Their own fierce, excited dogs sprang at each other as they met, and ere their masters could separate them Alec had skillfully veered to the right and was by them. The coast was clear now, but fleet trains were close behind. The blocking of the way had necessarily somewhat lessened the speed, and swift trains had come up dangerously near. But what now cared Alec? Springing to his feet, he swings his whip and calls to his gallant dogs. The distance is now only a couple of miles, and direct is the route. How those beautiful dogs do go! In perfect unison they spring together, while Alec’s cheering voice rings out:“Marche! Bruce, my hero, my leader! and you, Wallace, true to the end, and Gelert the avenger, and Lorne the fortunate! Gallant Scots ye are, and this is our Bannockburn!”Thus on he drives; and now before him in the distance is the expectant crowd, who, having finished all their other sports, have gathered on the sloping banks to watch the return of the dog-trains. The day is drawing to a close, but there is one of those marvellous gloamings of the Great Lone Land, and so the whole scene is as visible as at noonday. The speed at which Alec travels soon brings him near, and as the sharp eyes of many tell them that he is the victor, and far in advance of any other train, there is, for an Indian crowd, a great deal of cheering, or rather a shouting of what sounds like “Hi! Hi! Ho! Ho!” from many a dusky Indian’s lungs. For Alec is very popular among them, and they rejoice at his victory. The few whites are also very much interested, and add their full share to the noise and excitement that tell of Alec’s triumph. Of course, Frank and Sam were wild with delight—so much so that they could not even shout. Sam in describing their feelings afterward said:“We could only yell, but that we did in right good earnest.”As Alec dashed into the midst of the cheering crowd warm indeed was his welcome. Stalwart arms seized him, and hoisted him up on the shoulders of a couple of gigantic Indians, who at once began their march to the front of the mission house, where amid the cheering of the crowd a blue ribbon was pinned upon the breast of his coat by the trembling fingers of an equally happy maiden, and her name was Winnie.
And now for the races with the dogs. These were looked forward to with the greatest interest. All sorts of rumours were afloat of some wonderful surprises in store. Fortunately for all parties concerned, including the dogs, there had been a great abundance of fish during the last few years, and so every Indian wigwam and house fairly swarmed with dogs, of all sizes and degree. In other years, when fish failed and the herd of reindeer came not, as a last resort against starvation the dogs went into the soup pot. But they had fared better lately, and so now they were all in the finest trim, and the trained ones were as eager here for the races as were their masters.
There were about a dozen trains that contended for the victory in this next race. There were to be four prizes given. Alec, with his splendid houndlike dogs, seemed a certain victor. However, as from different parts the dogs came into position and were eagerly scanned by those present, it was seen that there were many trains that would make a gallant race ere they or their magnificently developed drivers would even take a second place. Alec and a young clerk were the only whites in the race. Then there were three half-breed fur traders, and the rest of the competitors were pure Indians.
The Indian carpenter at Sagasta-weekee had made for Alec a splendid birch toboggan-like sled for this race. It was very light, and so the maker had sewed and re-sewed it, and so stiffened it with the sinews of the reindeer that it was as strong as a piece of steel. He had fastened a seat in it so cleverly that if the sled went over the seat collapsed like a rubber ball and as quickly resumed its position when the sled was righted. Old Memotas had especially manufactured the harnesses for this event. He made them out of the softest and lightest mooseskin that Mr Ross could buy for him. It took Memotas a long time to get the right kind of traces to satisfy his experienced eye. After testing a good deal of leather he settled down on a set of very long ones, that would not at all interfere with the long, springy movements of these beautiful houndlike dogs.
The start was to be from the foot of the mission hill on the ice. The route marked out, and along which Indians had now been stationed, was first to be the trading post, a distance of two and a half miles. Here each train would be detained exactly five minutes. At the expiration of the five minutes the next part of the race would begin. This was to Sagasta-weekee, a distance of perhaps five miles. Here there was to be a compulsory wait of ten minutes for each train, and then the dash back by the straight route to the mission, a distance, say, of six miles. Some of the Indians wanted the distance to be at least doubled, but this could not be allowed. These races and prizes were only designed to encourage the Indians to be kind and careful with their dogs, as only by such treatment could they be brought to be of the highest use to them in that land where they are so much needed.
Amid a good deal of barking, and some growls from some of the more quarrelsome dogs, the cry of “Marche!” was shouted, and they were off. Some especially clever Indian trains were the first to respond to the call and sprang to the front. Some of the drivers were going to run; others, like Alec, intended to ride, while perhaps the greater number would ride or run as they judged best in the excitement of the race. Each driver, Alec included, had a splendid dog-whip, but it was a long time since a dog of Alec’s was struck. Indeed, the first one to receive a powerful blow was the leader dog of a train beside which Alec was running. As Bruce came alongside, and was slowly forging ahead, the vicious brute made a spring at him. Quick as it was, it was observed by his Indian master, who, although more than twelve feet from him in the rear, sent out so speedily and accurately that long, heavy, snake-like whiplash that it caught the brute on the nose with such force that, with a howl of pain, he turned to the front before any damage had been done. A few seconds later Alec and this Indian driver sped on right and left of a couple of trains mixed-up in terrible confusion, while their drivers, a white man and a half-breed, were in anything but a pleasant mood. On and on they fairly flew. Alec had been warned to guard against running into some of the vicious dog-trains, as some of them had teeth like wolves, and one fierce attack might easily disable one of his lighter dogs.
Without mishap Alec reached the fort, and found that five trains were there ahead of him. In a minute or two most of the others arrived. Even those tangled up had speedily unloosened, and had not lost more than a couple of minutes by their collision. Exactly as each train’s five minutes expired, away they flew for a long run for Sagasta-weekee. The ice was in fairly good condition for travelling, although there were long stretches where it was so absolutely smooth and glassy that some of the dogs would slip and slide in spite of their best efforts to the contrary. On this smooth ice the Eskimos and the mongrels had the advantage, as they had such hard feet that they very seldom slipped. The feet of Alec’s dogs were perhaps the worse for these smooth icy places, and so he found that it was necessary, where the travelling was good, for him to urge his dogs more than he had intended, to make up for what he lost in the glassy places. Thus on they sped, and when Sagasta-weekee was reached Alec found three trains ahead of him and a couple alongside of his own and others close behind him. Ten minutes was the time allotted for the rest here. The instant Alec had arrived Memotas was at his side, and with him at once examined his dogs and compared his train with those that had thus far kept ahead. Memotas was delighted with the inspection, for, while the other trains seemed about exhausted at the terrific rate their drivers had pushed them, Alec’s were as playful and lively as though the race had only begun. So, barring accident or foul play, there seemed to be no reason why Alec should not win with flying colours. Two of the half-breeds with very vicious trains now pushed on with four minutes of a start. An Indian followed two minutes after, and then in four minutes more Alec and those who had arrived at the same time as he did were again ready for the final run of the six-mile home stretch. Just as Alec was leaving faithful, alert Memotas said to him, as he tucked him in:
“Be on your guard against those two half-breeds and their vicious dogs. Try and not pass them in a narrow place. There is mischief in their hearts. Be wise.”
“Marche!” and he was off.
For the first time now his blood began to tingle, and he entered into the wild, joyous enthusiasm of the race. He had become an expert in the use of his whip over the backs of his splendid dogs. Skillfully he whirled it, and its pistol-like report rang out over them, but not once did it inflict a stinging blow.
“Ho! ho! my gallants! With Scotland’s best staghound’s blood in your veins, and Scotland’s names, my bonny dogs, for Scotland win the day!”
He must needs hurry now, for fleet trains are around him and some ahead of him, with drivers just as keen and eager to win as he, and every one of them accustomed to dog-driving for years. Victors are some of them in previous contests, and not one of them is disposed to see a white lad from across the sea come and wrest their honour from them. Whips are flying now in earnest, and the dogs of other trains are waking up to realise that there is fire in their masters’ eyes and strength in their arms and a burning sting at the end of the heavy lash. With terrific rushes they make their desperate efforts to forge to the front. Alec, excited now to the highest pitch, calls as never before to his dogs:
“Marche! Bruce, up! Up, Wallace! and you Gelert, and my bonny Lorne. Ho! ho! Away, away, my bonny dogs! Away! away!”
Grandly did they respond. They too have caught the enthusiasm of the hour, and as in clock-like unison in those long, light traces they stretched themselves out and fairly flew over the icy surface, they seemed to lift the light sled and its driver as a thing of naught.
Steady, Alec! Keep well balanced now. You have shaken off every sled that started in this last dash with you, but there are stubborn competitors ahead, and there are rough places where an upset at such a speed means disaster as well as defeat. But he thinks naught of these things; his Scottish caution has gone to the winds, and with dauntless courage he keeps up his cheering cries. Rapidly does he gain on a powerful train ahead of him, and just as he begins to fly past it the vicious leader turns and springs at Bruce. He fails in his attempt on account of the slippery ice, and falls directly in front of the oncoming train.
“Marche! Bruce!” shouts Alec, and with a mighty bound the gallant fellow responds and springs directly over his prostrate assailant. Quickly follow Wallace, Gelert, and Lorne. With a stunning blow Alec’s sled hits the still struggling brute. Well now is it for Alec that the cautious builder of that light sled had strengthened it with deerskin sinews till it was tough and strong. And so it stood that fierce shock, and, with its sturdy occupant unseated, over the great dog, with undiminished speed, it goes. Before him now are the two great trains of the half-breeds. These are the men and trains about which Memotas whispered his words of caution. And well is it for Alec that he was put on his guard. Before them for a mile or so is the narrowest part of the route. The good ice in places did not average more than from fifty to a hundred feet across. Plenty of room, anyone might say, for three dog-trains to rush by (it) at the same time. Yes, if all are fair and honourable, but not wide enough for the safety of the third if the other two are determined to stop him at all hazards.
If there was one thing more than another in which Alec had carefully trained his dogs it was for them to respond to his voice, and quickly move to the right or left, as he spoke to them. Like some other drivers, he had them so well-trained that no horse responds to the pull on the reins more promptly than did his dogs to his voice. As Alec rapidly gained on these trains he observed that they were running about parallel to each other, and that the width of the ice was about the same between them and each shore. This so equally divided the ice that it made it difficult to decide whether to try and pass between them, or on one side or the other. Alec’s first wish was to see if they were really working together against him, and so he shouted to his dogs as though he would clash in between them. At once they began to close up from each side to block his way. Quickly checking his dogs before there was a collision, he then tried the call to the right hand, and here the same plan was again pursued. It was evident, seeing that they would both be beaten in a fair race, they were resolved, by sacrificing one train, that the other should win at any cost from this white lad. Their dogs were large and fierce, and at one word from their master, if a collision occurred, would fasten on the lighter and younger dogs of Alec, with disastrous results. So Alec, who saw the plan, resolved that there should be no collision with his train if he could help it. All this time the speed was fairly kept up, and alert and watchful was each driver, although not a word was spoken among them. After a little more manoeuvring from side to side Alec observed that his dogs were quicker to respond to his voice than were theirs, and so he resolved to try and confuse them and throw them off their guard. In this he at length succeeded. When, with a great show, it appeared that he was going to dash between them he suddenly checked his dogs just as the other two trains closed in to block his way. Quickly they saw their danger, and tried to avert it, but they were too late. Their own fierce, excited dogs sprang at each other as they met, and ere their masters could separate them Alec had skillfully veered to the right and was by them. The coast was clear now, but fleet trains were close behind. The blocking of the way had necessarily somewhat lessened the speed, and swift trains had come up dangerously near. But what now cared Alec? Springing to his feet, he swings his whip and calls to his gallant dogs. The distance is now only a couple of miles, and direct is the route. How those beautiful dogs do go! In perfect unison they spring together, while Alec’s cheering voice rings out:
“Marche! Bruce, my hero, my leader! and you, Wallace, true to the end, and Gelert the avenger, and Lorne the fortunate! Gallant Scots ye are, and this is our Bannockburn!”
Thus on he drives; and now before him in the distance is the expectant crowd, who, having finished all their other sports, have gathered on the sloping banks to watch the return of the dog-trains. The day is drawing to a close, but there is one of those marvellous gloamings of the Great Lone Land, and so the whole scene is as visible as at noonday. The speed at which Alec travels soon brings him near, and as the sharp eyes of many tell them that he is the victor, and far in advance of any other train, there is, for an Indian crowd, a great deal of cheering, or rather a shouting of what sounds like “Hi! Hi! Ho! Ho!” from many a dusky Indian’s lungs. For Alec is very popular among them, and they rejoice at his victory. The few whites are also very much interested, and add their full share to the noise and excitement that tell of Alec’s triumph. Of course, Frank and Sam were wild with delight—so much so that they could not even shout. Sam in describing their feelings afterward said:
“We could only yell, but that we did in right good earnest.”
As Alec dashed into the midst of the cheering crowd warm indeed was his welcome. Stalwart arms seized him, and hoisted him up on the shoulders of a couple of gigantic Indians, who at once began their march to the front of the mission house, where amid the cheering of the crowd a blue ribbon was pinned upon the breast of his coat by the trembling fingers of an equally happy maiden, and her name was Winnie.
Chapter Eleven.Pasche disappears—The Search—Big Tom and Mustagan—The Whisky Jacks—Pasche found in a Hollow Tree—Chased by an Angry Moose Bull—Pasche rescued—His Quaint Account of his Adventures.There was great excitement at Sagasta-weekee one morning when word came in that the stableman who looked after the cows was missing. In fact, he had not been around for three days, and the boy who helped him in the stables was scolded for not having reported his absence. The name of the missing man was Pasche. He was a French half-breed who had come up from the Indian settlement near Montreal, several years before, in one of the canoes of the famous Iroquois brigades that annually made the trip up the Ottawa and other rivers into Lake Superior to Thunder Bay, and from thence by Lake of the Woods and still other rivers until they reached Lake Winnipeg.Poor Pasche was ignominiously discharged by the despotic governor of the Hudson Bay Company, as being unfit for the laborious work of a canoeman in one of those large canoes. The fact was that it was only the most vigorous and muscular men who could perform the tremendous task assigned them by that tyrannical man, who drove his men on and on with all the cruel, callous persistency of a slave-driver. No wonder poor, weak Pasche gave out where many a stalwart man has also failed. He had been a sailor for some years on the St. Lawrence, and had the agility of a monkey in climbing up to the top of the masts. The unfortunate fellow was left stranded in that wild country, and so, out of sympathy for the poor exile, Mr Ross had given him work and a home, until he could return to his own people. The kindness of his new master made him quite contented where he was, and so year after year he had remained, and to him had come the care of the cows both in the summer and winter.Now he was missing, and had been for three days. The family was alarmed, as it was such an unusual thing for Pasche ever to be away over a night. Mr Ross at once called into the kitchen all who had lately seen him or knew anything of his latest fads. Of these the poor fellow had quite a number, and while some of them were sensible, others of them were generally laughed at by his friends. The latest one was that he imagined himself a great hunter, and had secured some traps and had set them in the woods in various places, most of them several miles away. The last time he was seen by the stable-boy was when he had finished the morning work at the stable. Then he had taken his gun and axe and started off to visit some of his traps. When Mr Ross chided the boy, who had industriously attended to all the stable duties alone, he said that Pasche had made him promise to say nothing about his huntings, for fear he would be laughed at.A heavy fall of snow had completely obliterated all tracks, and so there was no possibility of following him up in that way. A messenger was sent for old Mustagan and Big Tom, both famous Indian guides, and a consultation was held with them. They smoked their stone pipes and talked the matter over, and then went out. After closely questioning the stable-boy they returned to the Indian village. Here they secured a couple of sharp, bright little beaver dogs. With them they returned to the stables, and there, showing the dogs a coat that Pasche was in the habit of wearing, and making them thoroughly smell it, they tried to get them on his trail. All, however, the dogs would do was to get back out of the deep snow as quickly as possible and into the shelter of the stables. The plan was not a success. These dogs were too small for the deep snow, and soon the old Indians gave up this plan in disgust. Then they strapped on their snowshoes and made a long circuit around the place, and thus tried to find out some clue or trace of the missing man. Failing in this, they returned to the house, and after a hearty meal they equipped themselves to find that lost man. They had but little to work on, as Pasche had never revealed to anyone the whereabouts of his traps. However, Indian eyes are sharp, and so, unknown to him, keen hunters had observed his doings, and could tell the locality of every one of his traps and snares. Those who had any knowledge in this direction were summoned, and then, with the information thus obtained, the two old men set off on their snowshoes. It was not long ere they reached his first trap, but the snow covered everything there. Then on to his next resort, still no success; and thus it was throughout the whole round.The Indians were puzzled and perplexed, and as they had now been on the go for hours they kindled a fire and awaited the arrival of some of the sleds with supplies that were to meet them here at this designated spot. The boys, who were equally grieved and excited with the rest at the loss of Pasche, with whom they had had a lot of innocent fun, had harnessed up their dog-trains and joined the party who brought out the supplies. The meal was quickly prepared on the big, roaring fire, and vigorous appetites made heavy inroads on the abundant supplies which Mrs Ross had sent. They all noticed, while at the meal, the unusual number of whisky jacks, the Indian’s sacred bird, that were at once attracted by the fire. They were all very noisy, and seemed unusually excited. The Indians are quick to notice the actions of even the most insignificant birds when on their hunting or warlike excursions. Many a lurking warrior, securely hid from the keenest human eye, has been given away by a noisy blue jay or a suspicious cawing crow, and has thus failed in his attempt to surprise his enemy, and has been obliged to make a hasty retreat.In answer to Frank’s question, Big Tom told the boys how some of the wild animals are warned by the birds of the approach of the hunters, and are thus the more difficult to reach. So here the whisky jacks, noisy at any time, but unusually so now, attracted the curiosity of those alert, watchful old Indians, as well as much amused the boys with their saucy ways. The birds, as usual, clamoured around the fire, and as long as a crumb or bit of anything could be obtained were very saucy and persistent in their begging. It was great fun for the boys to feed them, and to even catch some of them by their feet, so bold and venturesome were they. They were all, however, speedily liberated, as Mustagan and Big Tom were anxious, if possible, to learn something from them. So the remains of the meal were speedily scattered, and while the boys wrapped robes around themselves and sat near the fire to keep warm, the Indians, lighting their pipes, sat down on a log near the fire to watch the actions of the birds. For a time they fluttered around and scolded in their pert, boisterous manner. Then, seeing there was nothing more forthcoming, they began flying about in the woods, but occasionally came back to see if the next meal was being prepared. Seeing no signs of it, they flew further and further away, and now principally in one direction.After a while the quick ears of Mustagan detected a series of unusual cries of the birds. He at once called Big Tom’s attention to it, and they both decided that there was something unusual to cause them thus to act. Not knowing but it might be a wolverine or a wild cat at which the birds seemed to be so angrily scolding, while the boys and the rest of the party remained near the fire they took their guns and carefully made their way through the woods to a spot where, without being seen themselves, they could observe the birds. To their keenest investigation nothing unusual was visible. The new, trackless snow was as yet unmarked by step of man or beast. Still excitedly the birds acted, and incessantly scolded. Soon the two men noticed that the centre of their whirlings was a large dead trunk of a tree that had been broken off between thirty and forty feet from the ground. Around this stub of a tree the birds whirled and scolded, and occasionally some of them would light on the rough, jagged edge of the top, and seemed to be peeping down into the heart of the dead tree. The curiosity of the men was aroused, and they wondered what animal the birds had there discovered. Immediately they started for it, keeping their guns in readiness to fire if it, whatever it was, should attempt to escape. When they reached the spot there was not a track visible of any animal. The birds whirled around if possible more noisily than ever, and so it was evident to the men that there was something in that tree. Drawing his axe from his belt, Big Tom made ready to pound against the side while Mustagan, with pointed gun, was on the alert to shoot any animal that the noise should disturb and cause to attempt to escape. With lusty vigour Big Tom pounded away at the old tree, while carefully Mustagan watched the top. In an instant after there were two very much amazed Indians. For from the interior of that old tree thus vigorously assailed there came the faint cry of a human being! What his first words were neither man was particular to inquire. It was enough for their quick wits to tell them that they had found the lost man for whom they were seeking, and that he was still alive!At once they lifted up their voices and shouted words of cheer and encouragement to the imprisoned Pasche. Then they called to the rest of the party who were at the fire to hasten to them. Neither the boys nor the men required a second call. They were speedily at the side of the two old Indians who, for such people, were very perceptibly excited.At first the boys could hardly take in the situation, but quickly it dawned on them that here was an imprisoned, half-starved man who must be helped out of his dangerous predicament. What had best be done was the question that Mustagan, Big Tom, and the other Indians were discussing. Some suggested cutting down the big tree at once. This was discouraged by some, who said that the blows of the axe on the dead tree would dislodge so much dry, dusty, rotten wood that it would about smother the imprisoned man. So it was quickly decided that he must be pulled out of the top where, it was quite evident, he had fallen in. At once the tail-ropes of the sleds and the packing and tie lines, which are also made of leather, were fastened together, and an effort was made to get one end to the poor fellow inside. In the meantime, while these preparations were being made by the Indians, the boys endeavoured to hold some kind of conversation with the imprisoned Pasche.“Arrah, my man,” shouted Sam, “and what are ye doing inside there?”“I fell in,” faintly came back to the listeners.“Were ye looking for the cows?” persisted the irrepressible Sam, who was a great favourite with Pasche, although he often unmercifully chaffed him.“No, but a moose bull was looking for me.”This answer was the explanation that told the whole story; but, while the old Indians were able to now understand at once the whole matter, they left it for Pasche, when rescued, to tell his story. So in the meantime the question was how to liberate him as speedily as possible without injury. They first tried by fastening a stone to one end of their improvised leather rope to so throw it up that it would drop into the hollow tree as into a chimney. But although they succeeded several times in getting the stone to fall in, yet so jagged was the edge of the broken wood that the rope would not slide down. This plan failing, the next one tried was to cut down as large a young tree as the whole party could handle, and then carry it and lean it up against the hollow tree in which was the imprisoned man. Alec, who was a daring climber, at once volunteered to climb this, and thus carry up one end of the rope, which could then be easily lowered down to Pasche. Ere he started Mustagan handed him a ball of deerskin twine, and told him to put that into his pocket, as he might need it before he came down again. Taking off his overcoat, and tightly fastening his leather coat around him with his sash belt, Alec gallantly began his difficult task. It was no easy work, as the tree was in some places quite icy and it was hard to grip with his hands, which soon began to feel the effects of the cold. But he gallantly persevered, and, cheered and encouraged by Sam and Frank, he at length succeeded in reaching the top. Here for a time, after a cheery shout to Pasche, he rested, while he warmed his nearly frozen hands in his warm mittens, which he had stuck in his sash belt. Then, hauling up sufficient length of line, he carefully dropped it down to the poor fellow at the bottom. But now another difficulty presented itself to him. He alone could not haul out the imprisoned man, and the men below could be of little service, as the rope if pulled on would surely get caught in the ragged edge of the rotten tree. It was now that Alec saw the value of Mustagan’s forethought in giving him that ball of deerskin twine.Calling up to him Mustagan said:“Hold on to the end of that twine, and let the ball drop to me.”This Alec at once did. Then Mustagan fastened a good solid green birch stick about four feet long and five or six inches in diameter to the string, and then said to Alec:“Now draw it up and lay it across the top of the tree, where it will rest firm and strong.”This was quickly done. Then calling to Pasche to tie the end let down to him about his waist, and then to hold on, he placed the rope over the strong, smooth green stick he had pulled up, and then gave the word to the men below to haul away. No second order was necessary, and soon Pasche was pulled up to the top. He had no difficulty in slipping down the inclined tree, weak as he was. Alec also safely reached the ground. Poor Pasche was quickly placed on a dog-sled, and they all hurried back to the fire, where some tea and food were hastily prepared for the hungry, half-frozen man. He was so weak and exhausted that it was thought best not to trouble him to tell his story until they had all returned to Sagasta-weekee.The journey home was soon made, and there was great rejoicing at the recovery of the poor fellow. The following is his quaint story of his adventures:“Well, you see, I was emulous. Les garçons—the boys—they succeed. They capture le renard—the fox—the wild cat, and other animals. And still they not natives. So I think it over when I milk la vache, and Sam he pushed open la porte and he show me fine cross-fox he caught, and that make me emulous. So I take my wage le maître he give, and exchange for the traps. When my work is done, en avant, on I go to the great woods. Aller à pied—I walk—I carry my traps, I set them with much bait. I get nothing. Le chien—the dog—he follows, he gets in the traps. Then I try again. I go far away this time. I set my traps, I await with tranquillity. It is far in the woods. I wait trois days. Then I go to see if le renard, like Sam’s, is in my trap. Aussitôt que possible—as soon as possible—I reach my traps. There is no renard. So I return home. Il fait nuit—it is night. Then I say, A quoi bon?—What good is it?—and stay with my cows. But Sam he comes again and he say great things about la chasse—the hunting—and so I say, I try again; and this time I take the great wolf trap that hang in the stable, and start early, and go far in the woods, and set my traps, and put the big one, the wolf trap, set with a log made fast to the chain, and then I retourner—return—to my duties. Three days pass, then I advance again in the woods. It is far. Il fait de la neige—it is snowing—when I draw near. I hear a great noise. I draw nearer still. I see the great moose bull, with his hind foot in the wolf trap. He also sees me. I raise a great shout. A quoi bon?—What good is it? He comes for me. Voulez-vous?—I say. So I fire my fusil—gun—at him. Still he comes, for now I remember I only had shot for partridge in that gun. J’ai chaud—I am hot. He makes me so, he looks so fierce. His great ears, his long face, all his hair point toward me. I turn, I run. So does he run, but it is toward me. Still he comes. He has still the wolf trap on his foot. The log is fastened to the chain, so it troubles him. Still on he comes. I can keep ahead, on account of the log, but the log slips off the chain. So now he comes faster. I run, I fly. I see him draw near. He looks diabolical. I despair. I see this tree like the mast broken off in the storm. I learn to climb well when I sail on the ship. I rush to the tree with the moose bull close behind me. I drop my mittens, I seize hold of the rough bark, I climb up just as that animal, like le diable—the devil—he rush up, and he strike his great horns against the tree where I was, but I not there, I just above, out of his reach. I dare not go back. So up and up I climb like the sailor as I was, and when I get to the top I find plenty of sticks there, where some time ago the crows they make the nest, and it seem strong, and as I could not hold on at the sides of the tree I pull myself up and try to stand on those sticks, and they break sudden and I drop, I fall, I sink down into the tree. I throw out my arms to catch hold, but the tree is rotten wood inside, so I lose my grip. The wood it come down with me. I sink into the depths, and there I was. The rotten wood made a great dust as down I slide. It nearly choke me. I cannot call out; my mouth, my eyes, my throat all full. There I stay. I could not climb out, the place too small. I could not work up my knees, so there I stay. My heart gets very sad soon. Il fait nuit—it is night. I am lost. Good-bye, I say, to all. I weep and then I sleep, I wake up with a start, then I sleep again. When I wake again, il fait clair—it is light—above and rejoice. The dust is all out of my eyes and mouth. I can move back my head enough to look up and see the blue sky. Then I call aloud, but there is no response. I then remember I have some food in my pocket. It is difficile to get at it, but I succeed. I eat it, it is very good. Then I find I have my knife in my pocket. I call again and again. I think I hear a reply; but it is only the birds, the whisky jacks. They fly across my vision at the top; they look at me, they scream, they mock me. Never mind, I have my knife; so I will hope to cut my way out. It is easy cutting in the rotten wood. But the dust affects me, I cough much. I can work but little. I have to wait for the dust to settle. The air is bad. When I get to the hard outside wood I can do nothing, my strength is gone. It is hard to breathe when I keep still. It is worse when I try to work. So I give myself up to die. I call out at times, and try to think of my friends, and try to pray, and that comforts me best of all. Thus passes this second day, and now I am very faint. I can just easily move round in my prison, but I cannot sit down or lie down. I am very tired. Still I call, and more and more the whisky jacks come and mock me. They seem angry I have nothing for them, and so they scold, as they do at the camp fire when we feed them nothing. To-day for a time they left me, and then they came back and seemed to laugh at me, and then I heard Mustagan and Big Tom call, and was rescued.“Je suis fâché—I am sorry—I went hunting. I will go no more. Sam may continue.”
There was great excitement at Sagasta-weekee one morning when word came in that the stableman who looked after the cows was missing. In fact, he had not been around for three days, and the boy who helped him in the stables was scolded for not having reported his absence. The name of the missing man was Pasche. He was a French half-breed who had come up from the Indian settlement near Montreal, several years before, in one of the canoes of the famous Iroquois brigades that annually made the trip up the Ottawa and other rivers into Lake Superior to Thunder Bay, and from thence by Lake of the Woods and still other rivers until they reached Lake Winnipeg.
Poor Pasche was ignominiously discharged by the despotic governor of the Hudson Bay Company, as being unfit for the laborious work of a canoeman in one of those large canoes. The fact was that it was only the most vigorous and muscular men who could perform the tremendous task assigned them by that tyrannical man, who drove his men on and on with all the cruel, callous persistency of a slave-driver. No wonder poor, weak Pasche gave out where many a stalwart man has also failed. He had been a sailor for some years on the St. Lawrence, and had the agility of a monkey in climbing up to the top of the masts. The unfortunate fellow was left stranded in that wild country, and so, out of sympathy for the poor exile, Mr Ross had given him work and a home, until he could return to his own people. The kindness of his new master made him quite contented where he was, and so year after year he had remained, and to him had come the care of the cows both in the summer and winter.
Now he was missing, and had been for three days. The family was alarmed, as it was such an unusual thing for Pasche ever to be away over a night. Mr Ross at once called into the kitchen all who had lately seen him or knew anything of his latest fads. Of these the poor fellow had quite a number, and while some of them were sensible, others of them were generally laughed at by his friends. The latest one was that he imagined himself a great hunter, and had secured some traps and had set them in the woods in various places, most of them several miles away. The last time he was seen by the stable-boy was when he had finished the morning work at the stable. Then he had taken his gun and axe and started off to visit some of his traps. When Mr Ross chided the boy, who had industriously attended to all the stable duties alone, he said that Pasche had made him promise to say nothing about his huntings, for fear he would be laughed at.
A heavy fall of snow had completely obliterated all tracks, and so there was no possibility of following him up in that way. A messenger was sent for old Mustagan and Big Tom, both famous Indian guides, and a consultation was held with them. They smoked their stone pipes and talked the matter over, and then went out. After closely questioning the stable-boy they returned to the Indian village. Here they secured a couple of sharp, bright little beaver dogs. With them they returned to the stables, and there, showing the dogs a coat that Pasche was in the habit of wearing, and making them thoroughly smell it, they tried to get them on his trail. All, however, the dogs would do was to get back out of the deep snow as quickly as possible and into the shelter of the stables. The plan was not a success. These dogs were too small for the deep snow, and soon the old Indians gave up this plan in disgust. Then they strapped on their snowshoes and made a long circuit around the place, and thus tried to find out some clue or trace of the missing man. Failing in this, they returned to the house, and after a hearty meal they equipped themselves to find that lost man. They had but little to work on, as Pasche had never revealed to anyone the whereabouts of his traps. However, Indian eyes are sharp, and so, unknown to him, keen hunters had observed his doings, and could tell the locality of every one of his traps and snares. Those who had any knowledge in this direction were summoned, and then, with the information thus obtained, the two old men set off on their snowshoes. It was not long ere they reached his first trap, but the snow covered everything there. Then on to his next resort, still no success; and thus it was throughout the whole round.
The Indians were puzzled and perplexed, and as they had now been on the go for hours they kindled a fire and awaited the arrival of some of the sleds with supplies that were to meet them here at this designated spot. The boys, who were equally grieved and excited with the rest at the loss of Pasche, with whom they had had a lot of innocent fun, had harnessed up their dog-trains and joined the party who brought out the supplies. The meal was quickly prepared on the big, roaring fire, and vigorous appetites made heavy inroads on the abundant supplies which Mrs Ross had sent. They all noticed, while at the meal, the unusual number of whisky jacks, the Indian’s sacred bird, that were at once attracted by the fire. They were all very noisy, and seemed unusually excited. The Indians are quick to notice the actions of even the most insignificant birds when on their hunting or warlike excursions. Many a lurking warrior, securely hid from the keenest human eye, has been given away by a noisy blue jay or a suspicious cawing crow, and has thus failed in his attempt to surprise his enemy, and has been obliged to make a hasty retreat.
In answer to Frank’s question, Big Tom told the boys how some of the wild animals are warned by the birds of the approach of the hunters, and are thus the more difficult to reach. So here the whisky jacks, noisy at any time, but unusually so now, attracted the curiosity of those alert, watchful old Indians, as well as much amused the boys with their saucy ways. The birds, as usual, clamoured around the fire, and as long as a crumb or bit of anything could be obtained were very saucy and persistent in their begging. It was great fun for the boys to feed them, and to even catch some of them by their feet, so bold and venturesome were they. They were all, however, speedily liberated, as Mustagan and Big Tom were anxious, if possible, to learn something from them. So the remains of the meal were speedily scattered, and while the boys wrapped robes around themselves and sat near the fire to keep warm, the Indians, lighting their pipes, sat down on a log near the fire to watch the actions of the birds. For a time they fluttered around and scolded in their pert, boisterous manner. Then, seeing there was nothing more forthcoming, they began flying about in the woods, but occasionally came back to see if the next meal was being prepared. Seeing no signs of it, they flew further and further away, and now principally in one direction.
After a while the quick ears of Mustagan detected a series of unusual cries of the birds. He at once called Big Tom’s attention to it, and they both decided that there was something unusual to cause them thus to act. Not knowing but it might be a wolverine or a wild cat at which the birds seemed to be so angrily scolding, while the boys and the rest of the party remained near the fire they took their guns and carefully made their way through the woods to a spot where, without being seen themselves, they could observe the birds. To their keenest investigation nothing unusual was visible. The new, trackless snow was as yet unmarked by step of man or beast. Still excitedly the birds acted, and incessantly scolded. Soon the two men noticed that the centre of their whirlings was a large dead trunk of a tree that had been broken off between thirty and forty feet from the ground. Around this stub of a tree the birds whirled and scolded, and occasionally some of them would light on the rough, jagged edge of the top, and seemed to be peeping down into the heart of the dead tree. The curiosity of the men was aroused, and they wondered what animal the birds had there discovered. Immediately they started for it, keeping their guns in readiness to fire if it, whatever it was, should attempt to escape. When they reached the spot there was not a track visible of any animal. The birds whirled around if possible more noisily than ever, and so it was evident to the men that there was something in that tree. Drawing his axe from his belt, Big Tom made ready to pound against the side while Mustagan, with pointed gun, was on the alert to shoot any animal that the noise should disturb and cause to attempt to escape. With lusty vigour Big Tom pounded away at the old tree, while carefully Mustagan watched the top. In an instant after there were two very much amazed Indians. For from the interior of that old tree thus vigorously assailed there came the faint cry of a human being! What his first words were neither man was particular to inquire. It was enough for their quick wits to tell them that they had found the lost man for whom they were seeking, and that he was still alive!
At once they lifted up their voices and shouted words of cheer and encouragement to the imprisoned Pasche. Then they called to the rest of the party who were at the fire to hasten to them. Neither the boys nor the men required a second call. They were speedily at the side of the two old Indians who, for such people, were very perceptibly excited.
At first the boys could hardly take in the situation, but quickly it dawned on them that here was an imprisoned, half-starved man who must be helped out of his dangerous predicament. What had best be done was the question that Mustagan, Big Tom, and the other Indians were discussing. Some suggested cutting down the big tree at once. This was discouraged by some, who said that the blows of the axe on the dead tree would dislodge so much dry, dusty, rotten wood that it would about smother the imprisoned man. So it was quickly decided that he must be pulled out of the top where, it was quite evident, he had fallen in. At once the tail-ropes of the sleds and the packing and tie lines, which are also made of leather, were fastened together, and an effort was made to get one end to the poor fellow inside. In the meantime, while these preparations were being made by the Indians, the boys endeavoured to hold some kind of conversation with the imprisoned Pasche.
“Arrah, my man,” shouted Sam, “and what are ye doing inside there?”
“I fell in,” faintly came back to the listeners.
“Were ye looking for the cows?” persisted the irrepressible Sam, who was a great favourite with Pasche, although he often unmercifully chaffed him.
“No, but a moose bull was looking for me.”
This answer was the explanation that told the whole story; but, while the old Indians were able to now understand at once the whole matter, they left it for Pasche, when rescued, to tell his story. So in the meantime the question was how to liberate him as speedily as possible without injury. They first tried by fastening a stone to one end of their improvised leather rope to so throw it up that it would drop into the hollow tree as into a chimney. But although they succeeded several times in getting the stone to fall in, yet so jagged was the edge of the broken wood that the rope would not slide down. This plan failing, the next one tried was to cut down as large a young tree as the whole party could handle, and then carry it and lean it up against the hollow tree in which was the imprisoned man. Alec, who was a daring climber, at once volunteered to climb this, and thus carry up one end of the rope, which could then be easily lowered down to Pasche. Ere he started Mustagan handed him a ball of deerskin twine, and told him to put that into his pocket, as he might need it before he came down again. Taking off his overcoat, and tightly fastening his leather coat around him with his sash belt, Alec gallantly began his difficult task. It was no easy work, as the tree was in some places quite icy and it was hard to grip with his hands, which soon began to feel the effects of the cold. But he gallantly persevered, and, cheered and encouraged by Sam and Frank, he at length succeeded in reaching the top. Here for a time, after a cheery shout to Pasche, he rested, while he warmed his nearly frozen hands in his warm mittens, which he had stuck in his sash belt. Then, hauling up sufficient length of line, he carefully dropped it down to the poor fellow at the bottom. But now another difficulty presented itself to him. He alone could not haul out the imprisoned man, and the men below could be of little service, as the rope if pulled on would surely get caught in the ragged edge of the rotten tree. It was now that Alec saw the value of Mustagan’s forethought in giving him that ball of deerskin twine.
Calling up to him Mustagan said:
“Hold on to the end of that twine, and let the ball drop to me.”
This Alec at once did. Then Mustagan fastened a good solid green birch stick about four feet long and five or six inches in diameter to the string, and then said to Alec:
“Now draw it up and lay it across the top of the tree, where it will rest firm and strong.”
This was quickly done. Then calling to Pasche to tie the end let down to him about his waist, and then to hold on, he placed the rope over the strong, smooth green stick he had pulled up, and then gave the word to the men below to haul away. No second order was necessary, and soon Pasche was pulled up to the top. He had no difficulty in slipping down the inclined tree, weak as he was. Alec also safely reached the ground. Poor Pasche was quickly placed on a dog-sled, and they all hurried back to the fire, where some tea and food were hastily prepared for the hungry, half-frozen man. He was so weak and exhausted that it was thought best not to trouble him to tell his story until they had all returned to Sagasta-weekee.
The journey home was soon made, and there was great rejoicing at the recovery of the poor fellow. The following is his quaint story of his adventures:
“Well, you see, I was emulous. Les garçons—the boys—they succeed. They capture le renard—the fox—the wild cat, and other animals. And still they not natives. So I think it over when I milk la vache, and Sam he pushed open la porte and he show me fine cross-fox he caught, and that make me emulous. So I take my wage le maître he give, and exchange for the traps. When my work is done, en avant, on I go to the great woods. Aller à pied—I walk—I carry my traps, I set them with much bait. I get nothing. Le chien—the dog—he follows, he gets in the traps. Then I try again. I go far away this time. I set my traps, I await with tranquillity. It is far in the woods. I wait trois days. Then I go to see if le renard, like Sam’s, is in my trap. Aussitôt que possible—as soon as possible—I reach my traps. There is no renard. So I return home. Il fait nuit—it is night. Then I say, A quoi bon?—What good is it?—and stay with my cows. But Sam he comes again and he say great things about la chasse—the hunting—and so I say, I try again; and this time I take the great wolf trap that hang in the stable, and start early, and go far in the woods, and set my traps, and put the big one, the wolf trap, set with a log made fast to the chain, and then I retourner—return—to my duties. Three days pass, then I advance again in the woods. It is far. Il fait de la neige—it is snowing—when I draw near. I hear a great noise. I draw nearer still. I see the great moose bull, with his hind foot in the wolf trap. He also sees me. I raise a great shout. A quoi bon?—What good is it? He comes for me. Voulez-vous?—I say. So I fire my fusil—gun—at him. Still he comes, for now I remember I only had shot for partridge in that gun. J’ai chaud—I am hot. He makes me so, he looks so fierce. His great ears, his long face, all his hair point toward me. I turn, I run. So does he run, but it is toward me. Still he comes. He has still the wolf trap on his foot. The log is fastened to the chain, so it troubles him. Still on he comes. I can keep ahead, on account of the log, but the log slips off the chain. So now he comes faster. I run, I fly. I see him draw near. He looks diabolical. I despair. I see this tree like the mast broken off in the storm. I learn to climb well when I sail on the ship. I rush to the tree with the moose bull close behind me. I drop my mittens, I seize hold of the rough bark, I climb up just as that animal, like le diable—the devil—he rush up, and he strike his great horns against the tree where I was, but I not there, I just above, out of his reach. I dare not go back. So up and up I climb like the sailor as I was, and when I get to the top I find plenty of sticks there, where some time ago the crows they make the nest, and it seem strong, and as I could not hold on at the sides of the tree I pull myself up and try to stand on those sticks, and they break sudden and I drop, I fall, I sink down into the tree. I throw out my arms to catch hold, but the tree is rotten wood inside, so I lose my grip. The wood it come down with me. I sink into the depths, and there I was. The rotten wood made a great dust as down I slide. It nearly choke me. I cannot call out; my mouth, my eyes, my throat all full. There I stay. I could not climb out, the place too small. I could not work up my knees, so there I stay. My heart gets very sad soon. Il fait nuit—it is night. I am lost. Good-bye, I say, to all. I weep and then I sleep, I wake up with a start, then I sleep again. When I wake again, il fait clair—it is light—above and rejoice. The dust is all out of my eyes and mouth. I can move back my head enough to look up and see the blue sky. Then I call aloud, but there is no response. I then remember I have some food in my pocket. It is difficile to get at it, but I succeed. I eat it, it is very good. Then I find I have my knife in my pocket. I call again and again. I think I hear a reply; but it is only the birds, the whisky jacks. They fly across my vision at the top; they look at me, they scream, they mock me. Never mind, I have my knife; so I will hope to cut my way out. It is easy cutting in the rotten wood. But the dust affects me, I cough much. I can work but little. I have to wait for the dust to settle. The air is bad. When I get to the hard outside wood I can do nothing, my strength is gone. It is hard to breathe when I keep still. It is worse when I try to work. So I give myself up to die. I call out at times, and try to think of my friends, and try to pray, and that comforts me best of all. Thus passes this second day, and now I am very faint. I can just easily move round in my prison, but I cannot sit down or lie down. I am very tired. Still I call, and more and more the whisky jacks come and mock me. They seem angry I have nothing for them, and so they scold, as they do at the camp fire when we feed them nothing. To-day for a time they left me, and then they came back and seemed to laugh at me, and then I heard Mustagan and Big Tom call, and was rescued.
“Je suis fâché—I am sorry—I went hunting. I will go no more. Sam may continue.”