The Young Fur Traders
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R.M. Ballantyne >> The Young Fur Traders
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27 Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS.
UNIFORM WITH THIS BOOK.
_THE CORAL ISLAND. MARTIN RATTLER. UNCAVA._
[Illustration: Pierre was standing over the great kettle. "_The Young
Fur Traders_]" Frontispiece
SNOWFLAKES AND SUNBEAMS; OR, THE YOUNG FUR-TRADERS
A Tale of the Far North.
BY ROBERT MICHAEL BALLANTYNE
PEEFACE.
In writing this book my desire has been to draw an exact copy of the
picture which is indelibly stamped on my own memory. I have carefully
avoided exaggeration in everything of importance. All the chief, and
most of the minor incidents are facts. In regard to unimportant
matters, I have taken the liberty of a novelist--not to colour too
highly, or to invent improbabilities, but--to transpose time, place,
and circumstance at pleasure; while, at the same time, I have
endeavoured to convey to the reader's mind a truthful impression of
the _general effect_--to use a painter's language--of the life and
country of the Fur Trader.
EDINBURGH, 1856.
CHAPTER I Plunges the reader into the middle of an arctic winter;
conveys him into the heart of the wildernesses of North America; and
introduces him to some of the principal personages of our tale
CHAPTER II The old fur-trader endeavours to "fix" his son's "flint,"
and finds the thing more difficult to do than he expected
CHAPTER III The counting-room
CHAPTER IV. A wolf-hunt in the prairies; Charley astonishes his
father, and breaks in the "noo'oss" effectually
CHAPTER V Peter Mactavish becomes an amateur doctor; Charley
promulgates his views of things in general to Kate; and Kate waxes
sagacious
CHAPTER VI Spring and the voyageurs
CHAPTER VII. The store
CHAPTER VIII. Farewell to Kate; departure of the brigade; Charley
becomes a voyageur
CHAPTER IX. The voyage; the encampment; a surprise
CHAPTER X. Varieties, vexations, and vicissitudes
CHAPTER XI. Charley and Harry begin their sporting career without
much success; Whisky-John catching
CHAPTER XII. The storm
CHAPTER XIII. The canoe; ascending the rapids; the portage; deer-
shooting and life in the woods
CHAPTER XIV. The Indian camp; the new outpost; Charley sent on a
mission to the Indians
CHAPTER XV. The feast; Charley makes his first speech in public;
meets with an old friend; an evening in the grass
CHAPTER XVI The return; narrow escape; a murderous attempt, which
fails; and a discovery
CHAPTER XVII The scene changes; Bachelors' Hall; a practical joke and
its consequences; a snow-shoe walk at night in the forest
CHAPTER XVIII The walk continued; frozen toes; an encampment in the
snow
CHAPTER XIX Shows how the accountant and Harry set their traps, and
what came of it
CHAPTER XX The accountant's story
CHAPTER XXI Ptarmigan-hunting; Hamilton's shooting powers severely
tested; a snow-storm
CHAPTER XXII The winter packet; Harry hears from old friends, and
wishes that he was with them CHAPTER XXIII Changes; Harry and
Hamilton find that variety is indeed, charming; the latter astonishes
the former considerably
CHAPTER XXIV Hopes and fears; an unexpected meeting; philosophical
talk between the hunter and the parson
CHAPTER XXV Good news and romantic scenery; bear-hunting and its
results
CHAPTER XXVI An unexpected meeting, and an unexpected deer-hunt;
arrival at the outpost; disagreement with the natives; an enemy
discovered, and a murder
CHAPTER XXVII The chase; the fight; retribution; low spirits and good
news
CHAPTER XXVIII Old friends and scenes; coming events cast their
shadows before
CHAPTER XXIX The first day at home; a gallop in the prairie, and its
consequences
CHAPTER XXX Love; old Mr. Kennedy puts his foot in it
CHAPTER XXXI The course of true love, curiously enough, runs smooth
for once; and the curtain falls
CHAPTER I.
Plunges the reader into the middle of an Arctic winter; conveys him
into the heart of the wildernesses of North America; and introduces
him to some of the principal personages of our tale.
Snowflakes and sunbeams, heat and cold, winter and summer, alternated
with their wonted regularity for fifteen years in the wild regions of
the Far North. During this space of time the hero of our tale
sprouted from babyhood to boyhood, passed through the usual amount of
accidents, ailments, and vicissitudes incidental to those periods of
life, and finally entered upon that ambiguous condition that precedes
early manhood.
It was a clear, cold winter's day. The sunbeams of summer were long
past, and snowflakes had fallen thickly on the banks of Red River.
Charley sat on a lump of blue ice, his head drooping and his eyes
bent on the snow at his feet with an expression of deep
disconsolation.
Kate reclined at Charley's side, looking wistfully up in his
expressive face, as if to read the thoughts that were chasing each
other through his mind, like the ever-varying clouds that floated in
the winter sky above. It was quite evident to the most careless
observer that, whatever might be the usual temperaments of the boy
and girl, their present state of mind was not joyous, but on the
contrary, very sad.
"It won't do, sister Kate," said Charley. "I've tried him over and
over again--I've implored, begged, and entreated him to let me go;
but he won't, and I'm determined to run away, so there's an end of
it!"
As Charley gave utterance to this unalterable resolution, he rose
from the bit of blue ice, and taking Kate by the hand, led her over
the frozen river, climbed up the bank on the opposite side--an
operation of some difficulty, owing to the snow, which had been
drifted so deeply during a late storm that the usual track was almost
obliterated--and turning into a path that lost itself among the
willows, they speedily disappeared.
As it is possible our reader may desire to know who Charley and Kate
are, and the part of the world in which they dwell, we will interrupt
the thread of our narrative to explain.
In the very centre of the great continent of North America, far
removed from the abodes of civilised men, and about twenty miles to
the south of Lake Winnipeg, exists a colony composed of Indians,
Scotsmen, and French-Canadians, which is known by the name of Red
River Settlement. Red River differs from most colonies in more
respects than one--the chief differences being, that whereas other
colonies cluster on the sea-coast, this one lies many hundreds of
miles in the interior of the country, and is surrounded by a
wilderness; and while other colonies, acting on the Golden Rule,
export their produce in return for goods imported, this of Red River
imports a large quantity, and exports nothing, or next to nothing.
Not but that it _might_ export, if it only had an outlet or a market;
but being eight hundred miles removed from the sea, and five hundred
miles from the nearest market, with a series of rivers, lakes,
rapids, and cataracts separating from the one, and a wide sweep of
treeless prairie dividing from the other, the settlers have long
since come to the conclusion that they were born to consume their own
produce, and so regulate the extent of their farming operations by
the strength of their appetites. Of course, there are many of the
necessaries, or at least the luxuries, of life which the colonists
cannot grow--such as tea, coffee, sugar, coats, trousers, and shirts--
and which, consequently, they procure from England, by means of the
Hudson's Bay Fur Company's ships, which sail once a year from
Gravesend, laden with supplies for the trade carried on with the
Indians. And the bales containing these articles are conveyed in
boats up the rivers, carried past the waterfalls and rapids overland
on the shoulders of stalwart voyageurs, and finally landed at Red
River, after a rough trip of many weeks' duration. The colony was
founded in 1811, by the Earl of Selkirk, previously to which it had
been a trading-post of the Fur Company. At the time of which we
write, it contained about five thousand souls, and extended upwards
of fifty miles along the Red and Assiniboine rivers, which streams
supplied the settlers with a variety of excellent fish. The banks
were clothed with fine trees; and immediately behind the settlement
lay the great prairies, which extended in undulating waves--almost
entirely devoid of shrub or tree--to the base of the Rocky Mountains.
Although far removed from the civilised world, and containing within
its precincts much that is savage and very little that is refined,
Red River is quite a populous paradise, as compared with the
desolate, solitary establishments of the Hudson's Bay Fur Company.
These lonely dwellings of the trader are scattered far and wide over
the whole continent--north, south, east, and west. Their population
generally amounts to eight or ten men--seldom to thirty. They are
planted in the thick of an uninhabited desert--their next neighbours
being from two to five hundred miles off--their occasional visitors,
bands of wandering Indians--and the sole object of their existence
being to trade the furry hides of foxes, martens, beavers, badgers,
bears, buffaloes, and wolves. It will not, then, be deemed a matter
of wonder that the gentlemen who have charge of these establishments,
and who, perchance, may have spent ten or twenty years in them,
should look upon the colony of Red River as a species of Elysium, a
sort of haven of rest, in which they may lay their weary heads, and
spend the remainder of their days in peaceful felicity, free from the
cares of a residence among wild beasts and wild men. Many of the
retiring traders prefer casting their lot in Canada; but not a few of
them _smoke_ out the remainder of their existence in this colony--
especially those who, having left home as boys fifty or sixty years
before, cannot reasonably expect to find the friends of their
childhood where they left them, and cannot hope to remodel tastes and
habits long nurtured in the backwoods so as to relish the manners and
customs of civilised society.
Such an one was old Frank Kennedy, who, sixty years before the date
of our story, ran away from school in Scotland; got a severe
thrashing from his father for so doing; and having no mother in whose
sympathising bosom he could weep out his sorrow, ran away from home,
went to sea, ran away from his ship while she lay at anchor in the
harbour of New York, and after leading a wandering, unsettled life
for several years, during which he had been alternately a clerk, a
day-labourer, a store-keeper and a village schoolmaster, he wound up
by entering the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, in which he
obtained an insight into savage life, a comfortable fortune, besides
a half-breed wife and a large family.
Being a man of great energy and courage, and moreover possessed of a
large, powerful frame, he was sent to one of the most distant posts
on the Mackenzie River, as being admirably suited for the display of
his powers both mental and physical. Here the small-pox broke out
among the natives, and besides carrying off hundreds of these poor
creatures, robbed Mr. Kennedy of all his children save two, Charles
and Kate, whom we have already introduced to the reader.
About the same time the council which is annually held at Red River
in spring for the purpose of arranging the affairs of the country for
the ensuing year thought proper to appoint Mr. Kennedy to a still
more outlandish part of the country--as near, in fact, to the North
Pole as it was possible for mortal man to live--and sent him an order
to proceed to his destination without loss of time. On receiving this
communication, Mr. Kennedy upset his chair, stamped his foot, ground
his teeth, and vowed, in the hearing of his wife and children, that
sooner than obey the mandate he would see the governors and council
of Rupert's Land hanged, quartered, and boiled down into tallow!
Ebullitions of this kind were peculiar to Frank Kennedy, and meant
_nothing_. They were simply the safety-valves to his superabundant
ire, and, like safety-valves in general, made much noise but did no
damage. It was well, however, on such occasions to keep out of the
old fur-trader's way; for he had an irresistible propensity to hit
out at whatever stood before him, especially if the object stood on a
level with his own eyes and wore whiskers. On second thoughts,
however, he sat down before his writing-table, took a sheet of blue
ruled foolscap paper, seized a quill which he had mended six months
previously, at a time when he happened to be in high good-humour, and
wrote as follows:--
Letter
To the Governor and Council of Rupert's Land, Fort Paskisegun
Red River Settlement. June 15, 18--.
Gentlemen,--I have the honour to acknowledge receipt
of your favour of 26th April last, appointing me
to the charge of Peel's River, and directing me to strike
out new channels of trade in that quarter. In reply, I
have to state that I shall have the honour to fulfil your
instructions by taking my departure in a light canoe as
soon as possible. At the same time I beg humbly to
submit that the state of my health is such as to render
it expedient for me to retire from the service, and I herewith
beg to hand in my resignation. I shall hope to be
relieved early next spring.--I have the honour to be,
gentlemen, your most obedient, humble servant,
F. Kennedy.
"There!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in a tone that would lead one
to suppose he had signed the death-warrant, and so had irrevocably
fixed the certain destruction, of the entire council--"there!" said
he, rising from his chair, and sticking the quill into the ink-bottle
with a _dab_ that split it up to the feather, and so rendered it
_hors de combat_ for all time coming.
To this letter the council gave a short reply, accepting his
resignation, and appointing a successor. On the following spring old
Mr. Kennedy embarked his wife and children in a bark canoe, and in
process of time landed them safely in Red River Settlement. Here he
purchased a house with six acres of land, in which he planted a
variety of useful vegetables, and built a summer-house after the
fashion of a conservatory, where he was wont to solace himself for
hours together with a pipe, or rather with dozens of pipes, of
Canadian twist tobacco.
After this he put his two children to school. The settlement was at
this time fortunate in having a most excellent academy, which was
conducted by a very estimable man. Charles and Kate Kennedy, being
obedient and clever, made rapid progress under his judicious
management, and the only fault that he had to find with the young
people was, that Kate was a little too quiet and fond of books, while
Charley was a little too riotous and fond of fun.
When Charles arrived at the age of fifteen and Kate attained to
fourteen years, old Mr. Kennedy went into his conservatory, locked
the door, sat down on an easy chair, filled a long clay pipe with his
beloved tobacco, smoked vigorously for ten minutes, and fell fast
asleep. In this condition he remained until the pipe fell from his
lips and broke in fragments on the floor. He then rose, filled
another pipe, and sat down to meditate on the subject that had
brought him to his smoking apartment. "There's my wife," said he,
looking at the bowl of his pipe, as if he were addressing himself to
it, "she's getting too old to be looking after everything herself
(_puff_), and Kate's getting too old to be humbugging any longer with
books: besides, she ought to be at home learning to keep house, and
help her mother, and cut the baccy (_puff_), and that young scamp
Charley should be entering the service (_puff_). He's clever enough
now to trade beaver and bears from the red-skins; besides, he's
(_puff_) a young rascal, and I'll be bound does nothing but lead the
other boys into (_puff_) mischief, although, to be sure, the master
_does_ say he's the cleverest fellow in the school; but he must be
reined up a bit now. I'll clap on a double curb and martingale. I'll
get him a situation in the counting-room at the fort (_puff_), where
he'll have his nose held tight to the grindstone. Yes, I'll fix both
their flints to-morrow;" and old Mr. Kennedy gave vent to another
puff so thick and long that it seemed as if all the previous puffs
had concealed themselves up to this moment within his capacious
chest, and rushed out at last in one thick and long-continued stream.
By "fixing their flints" Mr. Kennedy meant to express the fact that
he intended to place his children in an entirely new sphere of
action, and with a view to this he ordered out his horse and cariole
[Footnote: A sort of sleigh.] on the following morning, went up to
the school, which was about ten miles distant from his abode, and
brought his children home with him the same evening. Kate was now
formally installed as housekeeper and tobacco-cutter; while Charley
was told that his future destiny was to wield the quill in the
service of the Hudson's Bay Company, and that he might take a week to
think over it. Quiet, warm-hearted, affectionate Kate was overjoyed
at the thought of being a help and comfort to her old father and
mother; but reckless, joyous, good-humoured, hare-brained Charley was
cast into the depths of despair at the idea of spending the livelong
day, and day after day, for years it might be, on the top of a long-
legged stool. In fact, poor Charley said that he "would rather become
a buffalo than do it." Now this was very wrong of Charley, for, of
course, he didn't _mean_ it. Indeed, it is too much a habit among
little boys, ay, and among grown-up people, too, to say what they
don't mean, as no doubt you are aware, dear reader, if you possess
half the self-knowledge we give you credit for; and we cannot too
strongly remonstrate with ourself and others against the practice--
leading, as it does, to all sorts of absurd exaggerations, such as
gravely asserting that we are "broiling hot" when we are simply
"rather warm," or more than "half dead" with fatigue when we are
merely "very tired." However, Charley _said_ that he would rather be
"a buffalo than do it," and so we feel bound in honour to record the
fact.
Charley and Kate were warmly attached to each other. Moreover, they
had been, ever since they could walk, in the habit of mingling their
little joys and sorrows in each other's bosoms; and although, as
years flew past, they gradually ceased to sob in each other's arms at
every little mishap, they did not cease to interchange their inmost
thoughts, and to mingle their tears when occasion called them forth.
They knew the power, the inexpressible sweetness, of sympathy. They
understood experimentally the comfort and joy that flow from
obedience to that blessed commandment to "rejoice with those that do
rejoice, and weep with those that weep." It was natural, therefore,
that on Mr. Kennedy announcing his decrees, Charley and Kate should
hasten to some retired spot where they could commune in solitude; the
effect of which communing was to reduce them to a somewhat calmer and
rather happy state of mind. Charley's sorrow was blunted by sympathy
with Kate's joy, and Kate's joy was subdued by sympathy with
Charley's sorrow; so that, after the first effervescing burst, they
settled down into a calm and comfortable state of flatness, with very
red eyes and exceedingly pensive minds. We must, however, do Charley
the justice to say that the red eyes applied only to Kate; for
although a tear or two could without much coaxing be induced to hop
over his sun-burned cheek, he had got beyond that period of life when
boys are addicted to (we must give the word, though not pretty,
because it is eminently expressive) _blubbering_.
A week later found Charley and his sister seated on the lump of blue
ice where they were first introduced to the reader, and where Charley
announced his unalterable resolve to run away, following it up with
the statement that _that_ was "the end of it." He was quite mistaken,
however, for that was by no means the end of it. In fact it was only
the beginning of it, as we shall see hereafter.
CHAPTER II.
The old fur-trader endeavours to "fix" his son's "flint," and finds
the thing more difficult to do than he expected.
Near the centre of the colony of Red River, the stream from which the
settlement derives its name is joined by another, called the
Assiniboine. About five or six hundred yards from the point where
this union takes place, and on the banks of the latter stream, stands
the Hudson's Bay Company's trading-post, Fort Garry. It is a massive
square building of stone. Four high and thick walls enclose a space
of ground on which are built six or eight wooden houses, some of
which are used as dwellings for the servants of the Hudson's Bay
Company, and others as stores, wherein are contained the furs, the
provisions which are sent annually to various parts of the country,
and the goods (such as cloth, guns, powder and shot, blankets, twine,
axes, knives, etc., etc.) with which the fur-trade is carried on.
Although Red River is a peaceful colony, and not at all likely to be
assaulted by the poor Indians, it was, nevertheless, deemed prudent
by the traders to make some show of power; and so at the corners of
the fort four round bastions of a very imposing appearance were
built, from the embrasures of which several large black-muzzled guns
protruded. No one ever conceived the idea of firing these engines of
war; and, indeed, it is highly probable that such an attempt would
have been attended with consequences much more dreadful to those
_behind_ than to those who might chance to be in front of the guns.
Nevertheless they were imposing, and harmonised well with the flag-
staff, which was the only other military symptom about the place.
This latter was used on particular occasions, such as the arrival or
departure of a brigade of boats, for the purpose of displaying the
folds of a red flag on which were the letters H. B. C.
The fort stood, as we have said, on the banks of the Assiniboine
River, on the opposite side of which the land was somewhat wooded,
though not heavily, with oak, maple, poplar, aspens, and willows;
while at the back of the fort the great prairie rolled out like a
green sea to the horizon, and far beyond that again to the base of
the Rocky mountains. The plains at this time, however, were a sheet
of unbroken snow, and the river a mass of solid ice.
It was noon on the day following that on which our friend Charley had
threatened rebellion, when a tall elderly man might have been seen
standing at the back gate of Fort Garry, gazing wistfully out into
the prairie in the direction of the lower part of the settlement. He
was watching a small speck which moved rapidly over the snow in the
direction of the fort.
"It's very like our friend Frank Kennedy," said he to himself (at
least we presume so, for there was no one else within earshot to whom
he could have said it, except the door-post, which every one knows is
proverbially a deaf subject). "No man in the settlement drives so
furiously. I shouldn't wonder if he ran against the corner of the new
fence now. Ha! just so--there he goes!"
And truly the reckless driver did "go" just at that moment. He came
up to the corner of the new fence, where the road took a rather
abrupt turn, in a style that insured a capsize. In another second the
spirited horse turned sharp round, the sleigh turned sharp over, and
the occupant was pitched out at full length, while a black object,
that might have been mistaken for his hat, rose from his side like a
rocket, and, flying over him, landed on the snow several yards
beyond. A faint shout was heard to float on the breeze as this
catastrophe occurred, and the driver was seen to jump up and readjust
himself in the cariole; while the other black object proved itself
not to be a hat, by getting hastily up on a pair of legs, and
scrambling back to the seat from which it had been so unceremoniously
ejected.
In a few minutes more the cheerful tinkling of the merry sleigh-bells
was heard, and Frank Kennedy, accompanied by his hopeful son Charles,
dashed up to the gate, and pulled up with a jerk.
"Ha! Grant, my fine fellow, how are you?" exclaimed Mr. Kennedy,
senior, as he disengaged himself from the heavy folds of the buffalo
robe and shook the snow from his greatcoat. "Why on earth, man, don't
you put up a sign-post and a board to warn travellers that you've
been running out new fences and changing the road, eh?"
"Why, my good friend," said Mr. Grant, smiling, "the fence and the
road are of themselves pretty conclusive proof to most men that the
road is changed; and, besides, we don't often have people driving
round corners at full gallop; but--"
"Hollo! Charley, you rascal," interrupted Mr. Kennedy--"here, take
the mare to the stable, and don't drive her too fast. Mind, now, no
going off upon the wrong road for the sake of a drive, you
understand."
"All right, father," exclaimed the boy, while a bright smile lit up
his features and displayed two rows of white teeth: "I'll be
particularly careful," and he sprang into the light vehicle, seized
the reins, and with a sharp crack of the whip dashed down the road at
a hard gallop.
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