The Young Fur Traders

R >> R.M. Ballantyne >> The Young Fur Traders

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'The grouse-pie!' said the boy, in amazement.

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

"'Smell _that_, you villain! What did you mean by it, eh?'

"'Oh, murder!' shouted the boy, as with a violent effort he freed
himself, and ran shrieking into the house. "'Murder!' repeated
Anderson in astonishment, while he stooped to look into the oven,
where the first thing that met his gaze was a human head, whose
ghastly visage and staring eyeballs worked and moved about under the
influence of the heat as if it were alive.

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

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

"And what was the result?" enquired Harry.

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

"Humph! and I've no doubt the governor read you a pretty stiff
lecture on practical joking."

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

"Good-night," said the accountant.

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

CHAPTER XXI.

Ptarmigan-hunting--Hamilton's shooting powers severely tested--A
snowstorm.

At about four o'clock on the following morning, the sleepers were
awakened by the cold, which had become very intense. The fire had
burned down to a few embers, which merely emitted enough light to
make darkness visible. Harry being the most active of the party, was
the first to bestir himself. Raising himself on his elbow, while his
teeth chattered and his limbs trembled with cold, he cast a woebegone
and excessively sleepy glance towards the place where the fire had
been; then he scratched his head slowly; then he stared at the fire
again; then he languidly glanced at Hamilton's sleeping visage, and
then he yawned. The accountant observed all this; for although he
appeared to be buried in the depths of slumber, he was wide awake in
reality, and moreover, intensely cold. The accountant, however, was
sly--deep, as he would have said himself--and knew that Harry's
active habits would induce him to rise, on awaking, and rekindle the
fire,--an event which the accountant earnestly desired to see
accomplished, but which he as earnestly resolved should not be
performed by _him_. Indeed, it was with this end in view that he had
given vent to the terrific snore which had aroused his young
companion a little sooner than would have otherwise been the case.

"My eye," exclaimed Harry, in an undertone, "how precious cold it
is!"

His eye making no reply to this remark, he arose, and going down on
his hands and knees, began to coax the charcoal into a flame. By dint
of severe blowing, he soon succeeded, and heaping on a quantity of
small twigs, the fitful flame sprang up into a steady blaze. He then
threw several heavy logs on the fire, and in a very short space of
time restored it almost to its original vigour.

"What an abominable row you are kicking up!" growled the accountant;
"why, you would waken the seven sleepers. Oh! mending the fire," he
added, in an altered tone: "ah! I'll excuse you, my boy, since that's
what you're at."

The accountant hereupon got up, along with Hamilton, who was now also
awake, and the three spread their hands over the bright fire, and
revolved their bodies before it, until they imbibed a satisfactory
amount of heat. They were much too sleepy to converse, however, and
contented themselves with a very brief enquiry as to the state of
Hamilton's heels, which elicited the sleepy reply, "They feel quite
well, thank you." In a short time, having become agreeably warm, they
gave a simultaneous yawn, and lying down again, they fell into a
sleep from which they did not awaken until the red winter sun shot
its early rays over the arctic scenery.

Once more Harry sprang up, and let his hand fall heavily on
Hamilton's shoulder. Thus rudely assailed, that youth also sprang up,
giving a shout, at the same time, that brought the accountant to his
feet in an instant; and so, as if by an electric spark, the sleepers
were simultaneously roused into a state of wide-awake activity.

"How excessively hungry I feel! isn't it strange?" said Hamilton, as
he assisted in rekindling the fire, while the accountant filled his
pipe, and Harry stuffed the tea-kettle full of snow.

"Strange!" cried Harry, as he placed the kettle on the fire--"strange
to be hungry after a five miles' walk and a night in the snow? I
would rather say it was strange if you were _not_ hungry. Throw on
that billet, like a good fellow, and spit those grouse, while I cut
some pemmican and prepare the tea."

"How are the heels now, Hamilton?" asked the accountant, who divided
his attention between his pipe and his snow-shoes, the lines of which
required to be readjusted.

"They appear to be as well as if nothing had happened to them,"
replied Hamilton: "I've been looking at them, and there is no mark
whatever. They do not even feel tender."

"Lucky for you, old boy, that they were taken in time, else you'd had
another story to tell."

"Do you mean to say that people's heels really freeze and fall off?"
inquired the other, with a look of incredulity.

"Soft, very soft and green," murmured Harry, in a low voice, while he
continued his work of adding fresh snow to the kettle as the process
of melting reduced its bulk.

"I mean to say," replied the accountant, tapping the ashes out of his
pipe, "that not only heels, but hands, feet, noses, and ears,
frequently freeze, and often fall off in this country, as you will
find by sad experience if you don't look after yourself a little
better than you have done hitherto."

One of the evil effects of the perpetual jesting that prevailed at
York Fort was, that "soft" (in other words, straightforward,
unsuspecting) youths had to undergo a long process of learning-by-
experience: first, _believing_ everything, and then _doubting_
everything, ere they arrived at that degree of sophistication which
enabled them to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

Having reached the _doubting_ period in his training, Hamilton looked
down and said nothing, at least with his mouth, though his eyes
evidently remarked, "I don't believe you." In future years, however,
the evidence of these same eyes convinced him that what the
accountant said upon this occasion was but too true.

Breakfast was a repetition of the supper of the previous evening.
During its discussion they planned proceedings for the day.

"My notion is," said the accountant, interrupting the flow of words
ever and anon to chew the morsel with which his mouth was filled--"my
notion is, that as it's a fine clear day we should travel five miles
through the country parallel with North River. I know the ground, and
can guide you easily to the spots where there are lots of willows,
and therefore plenty of ptarmigan, seeing that they feed on willow
tops; and the snow that fell last night will help us a little."

"How will the snow help us?" inquired Hamilton.

"By covering up all the old tracks, to be sure, and showing only the
new ones."

"Well, captain," said Harry, as he raised a can of tea to his lips,
and nodded to Hamilton as if drinking his health, "go on with your
proposals for the day. Five miles up the river to begin with, then--"

"Then we'll pull up," continued the accountant; "make a fire, rest a
bit, and eat a mouthful of pemmican; after which we'll strike across
country for the southern woodcutters' track, and so home."

"And how much will that be?"

"About fifteen miles."

"Ha!" exclaimed Harry; "pass the kettle, please. Thanks.--Do you
think you're up to that, Hammy?"

"I will try what I can do," replied Hamilton. "If the snow-shoes
don't cause me to fall often, I think I shall stand the fatigue very
well."

"That's right," said the accountant; "'faint heart,' etc., you know.
If you go on as you've begun, you'll be chosen to head the next
expedition to the north pole."

"Well," replied Hamilton, good-humouredly, "pray head the present
expedition, and let us be gone."

"Right!" ejaculated the accountant, rising. "I'll just put my odds
and ends out of the reach of the foxes, and then we shall be off."

In a few minutes everything was placed in security, guns loaded,
snow-shoes put on, and the winter camp deserted. At first the walking
was fatiguing, and poor Hamilton more than once took a sudden and
eccentric plunge; but after getting beyond the wooded country, they
found the snow much more compact, and their march, therefore, much
more agreeable. On coming to the place where it was probable that
they might fall in with ptarmigan, Hamilton became rather excited,
and apt to imagine that little lumps of snow which hung upon the
bushes here and there were birds.

"There now," he cried, in an energetic and slightly positive tone, as
another of these masses of snow suddenly met his eager eye--"that's
one, I'm _quite_ sure."

The accountant and Harry both stopped short on hearing this, and
looked in the direction indicated.

"Fire away, then, Hammy," said the former, endeavouring to suppress a
smile.

"But do you think it _really_ is one?" asked Hamilton, anxiously.

"Well, I don't _see_ it exactly, but then, you know, I'm near-
sighted."

"Don't give him a chance of escape," cried Harry, seeing that his
friend was undecided. "If you really do see a bird, you'd better
shoot it, for they've got a strong propensity to take wing when
disturbed."

Thus admonished Hamilton raised his gun and took aim. Suddenly he
lowered his piece again, and looking round at Harry, said in a low
whisper,--

"Oh, I should like _so_ much to shoot it while flying! Would it not
be better to set it up first?"

"By no means," answered the accountant. "'A bird in the hand,' etc.
Take him as you find him--look sharp; he'll be off in a second."

Again the gun was pointed, and, after some difficulty in taking aim,
fired.

"Ah, what a pity you've missed him!" shouted Harry,

"But see, he's not off yet; how tame he is, to be sure! Give him the
other barrel, Hammy."

This piece of advice proved to be unnecessary. In his anxiety to get
the bird, Hamilton had cocked both barrels, and while gazing, half in
disappointment, half in surprise, at the supposed bird, his finger
unintentionally pressed the second trigger. In a moment the piece
exploded. Being accidentally aimed in the right direction, it blew
the lump of snow to atoms, and at the same time hitting its owner on
the chest with the butt, knocked him over flat upon his back.

"What a gun it is, to be sure!" said Harry, with a roguish laugh, as
he assisted the discomforted sportsman to rise; "it knocks over game
with butt and muzzle at once."

"Quite a rare instance of one butt knocking another down," added the
accountant.

At this moment a large flock of ptarmigan, startled by the double
report, rose with a loud whirring noise about a hundred yards in
advance, and after flying a short distance alighted.

"There's real game at last, though," cried the accountant, as he
hurried after the birds, followed closely by his young friends.

They soon reached the spot where the flock had alighted, and after
following up the tracks for a few yards further, set them up again.
As the birds rose, the accountant fired and brought down two; Harry
shot one and missed another; Hamilton being so nervously interested
in the success of his comrades that he forgot to fire at all.

"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns.

"Never mind; better luck next time," said Harry, as they resumed
their walk. "I saw the flock settle down about half-a-mile in advance
of us; so step out."

Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range.

"Go to the front, Hammy," said the accountant, "and take the first
shot this time."

Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a
single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others, ran
suddenly out from under a bush, and stood stock-still, at a distance
of a few yards, with its neck stretched out and its black eyes wide
open, as if in astonishment.

"Now then, you can't miss _that_."

Hamilton was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this necessity
for instantaneous action. Instead, therefore, of taking aim leisurely
(seeing that he had abundant time to do so), he flew entirely to the
opposite extreme, took no aim at all, and fired off both barrels at
once, without putting the gun to his shoulder. The result of this was
that the affrighted bird flew away unharmed, while Harry and the
accountant burst spontaneously into fits of laughter.

"How very provoking!" said the poor youth, with a dejected look.

"Never mind--never say die--try again," said the accountant, on
recovering his gravity. Having reloaded, they continued the pursuit.

"Dear me!" exclaimed Harry, suddenly, "here are three dead birds.--I
verily believe, Hamilton, that you have killed them all at one shot
by accident."

"Can it be possible?" exclaimed his friend, as with a look of
amazement he regarded the birds.

There was no doubt about the fact. There they lay, plump and still
warm, with one or two drops of bright red blood upon their white
plumage. Ptarmigan are almost pure white, so that it requires a
practised eye to detect them, even at a distance of a few yards; and
it would be almost impossible to hunt them without dogs, but for the
tell-tale snow, in which their tracks are distinctly marked, enabling
the sportsman to follow them up with unerring certainty. When
Hamilton made his bad shot, neither he nor his companions observed a
group of ptarmigan not more than fifty yards before them, their
attention being riveted at the time on the solitary bird; and the gun
happening to be directed towards them when it was fired, three were
instantly and unwittingly placed _hors de combat_, while the others
ran away. This the survivors frequently do when very tame, instead of
taking wing. Thus it was that Hamilton, to his immense delight, made
such a successful shot without being aware of it.

Having bagged their game, the party proceeded on their way. Several
large flocks of birds were raised, and the game-bags nearly filled,
before reaching the spot where they intended to turn and bend their
steps homewards. This induced them to give up the idea of going
further; and it was fortunate they came to this resolution, for a
storm was brewing, which in the eagerness of pursuit after game they
had not noticed. Dark masses of leaden-coloured clouds were gathering
in the sky overhead, and faint sighs of wind came, ever and anon, in
fitful gusts from the north-west.

Hurrying forward as quickly as possible, they now pursued their
course in a direction which would enable them to cross the
woodcutters' track. This they soon reached, and finding it pretty
well beaten, were enabled to make more rapid progress. Fortunately
the wind was blowing on their backs, otherwise they would have had to
contend not only with its violence, but also with the snow-drift,
which now whirled in bitter fury among the trees, or scoured like
driving clouds over the plain. Under this aspect, the flat country
over which they travelled seemed the perfection of bleak desolation.
Their way, however, did not lie in a direct line. The track was
somewhat tortuous, and gradually edged towards the north, until the
wind blew nearly in their teeth. At this point, too, they came to a
stretch of open ground which they had crossed at a point some miles
further to the northward in their night march. Here the storm raged
in all its fury, and as they looked out upon the plain, before
quitting the shelter of the wood, they paused to tighten their belts
and readjust their snow-shoe lines. The gale was so violent that the
whole plain seemed tossed about like billows of the sea, as the drift
rose and fell, curled, eddied, and dashed along, so that it was
impossible to see more than half-a-dozen yards in advance.

"Heaven preserve us from ever being caught in an exposed place on
such a night as this!" said the accountant, as he surveyed the
prospect before him. "Luckily the open country here is not more than
a quarter of a mile broad, and even that little bit will try our wind
somewhat."

Hamilton and Harry seemed by their looks to say, "We could easily
face even a stiffer breeze than that, if need be."

"What should we do," inquired the former, "if the plain were five or
six miles broad?"

"Do? why, we should have to camp in the woods till it blew over,
that's all," replied the accountant; "but seeing that we are not
reduced to such a necessity just now, and that the day is drawing to
a close, let us face it at once. I'll lead the way, and see that you
follow close at my heels. Don't lose sight of me for a moment, and if
you do by chance, give a shout; d'ye hear?"

The two lads replied in the affirmative, and then bracing themselves
up as if for a great effort, stepped vigorously out upon the plain,
and were instantly swallowed up in clouds of snow. For half-an-hour
or more they battled slowly against the howling storm, pressing
forward for some minutes with heads down, as if _boring_ through it,
then turning their backs to the blast for a few seconds' relief, but
always keeping as close to each other as possible. At length the
woods were gained; on entering which it was discovered that Hamilton
was missing.

"Hollo! where's Hamilton?" exclaimed Harry; "I saw him beside me not
five minutes ago." The accountant gave a loud shout, but there was no
reply. Indeed, nothing short of his own stentorian voice could have
been heard at all amid the storm.

"There's nothing for it," said Harry, "but to search at once, else
he'll wander about and get lost." Saying this, he began to retrace
his steps, just as a brief lull in the gale took place.

"Hollo! don't you hear a cry, Harry?"

At this moment there was another lull; the drift fell, and for an
instant cleared away, revealing the bewildered Hamilton, not twenty
yards off, standing, like a pillar of snow, in mute despair.

Profiting by the glimpse, Harry rushed forward, caught him by the
arm, and led him into the partial shelter of the forest.

Nothing further befell them after this. Their route lay in shelter
all the way to the fort. Poor Hamilton, it is true, took one or two
of his occasional plunges by the way, but without any serious result--
not even to the extent of stuffing his nose, ears, neck, mittens,
pockets, gun-barrels, and everything else with snow, because, these
being quite full and hard packed already, there was no room left for
the addition of another particle.

CHAPTER XXII.

The winter packet--Harry hears from old friends, and wishes that he
was with them.

Letters from home! What a burst of sudden emotion--what a riot of
conflicting feelings of dread and joy, expectation and anxiety--what
a flood of old memories--what stirring up of almost forgotten
associations these three words create in the hearts of those who
dwell in distant regions of this earth, far, far away from kith and
kin, from friends and acquaintances, from the much-loved scenes of
childhood, and from _home_! Letters from home! How gratefully the
sound falls upon ears that have been long unaccustomed to sounds and
things connected with home, and so long accustomed to wild, savage
sounds, that these have at length lost their novelty, and become
everyday and commonplace, while the first have gradually grown
strange and unwonted. For many long months home and all connected
with it have become a dream of other days, and savage-land a present
reality. The mind has by degrees become absorbed by surrounding
objects--objects so utterly unassociated with or unsuggestive of any
other land, that it involuntarily ceases to think of the scenes of
childhood with the same feelings that it once did. As time rolls on,
home assumes a misty, undefined character, as if it were not only
distant in reality, but were also slowly retreating further and
further away--growing gradually faint and dream-like, though not less
dear, to the mental view.

"Letters from home!" shouted Mr. Wilson, and the doctor, and the
skipper, simultaneously, as the sportsmen, after dashing through the
wild storm, at last reached the fort, and stumbled tumultuously into
Bachelors' Hall.

"What!--Where!--How!--You don't mean it!" they exclaimed, coming to a
sudden stand, like three pillars of snow-clad astonishment.

"Ay," replied the doctor, who affected to be quite cool upon all
occasions, and rather cooler than usual if the occasion was more than
ordinarily exciting--"ay, we _do_ mean it. Old Rogan has got the
packet, and is even now disembowelling it."

"More than that," interrupted the skipper, who sat smoking as usual
by the stove, with his hands in his breeches pockets--"more than
that, I saw him dissecting into the very marrow of the thing; so if
we don't storm the old admiral in his cabin, he'll go to sleep over
these prosy yarns that the governor-in-chief writes to him, and we'll
have to whistle for our letters till midnight."

The skipper's remark was interrupted by the opening of the outer door
and the entrance of the butler. "Mr. Rogan wishes to see you, sir,"
said that worthy to the accountant.

"I'll be with him in a minute," he replied, as he threw off his
capote and proceeded to unwind himself as quickly as his
multitudinous haps would permit.

By this time Harry Somerville and Hamilton were busily occupied in a
similar manner, while a running fire of question and answer, jesting
remark and bantering reply, was kept up between the young men, from
their various apartments and the hall. The doctor was cool, as usual,
and impudent. He had a habit of walking up and down while he smoked,
and was thus enabled to look in upon the inmates of the several
sleeping-rooms, and make his remarks in a quiet, sarcastic manner,
the galling effect of which was heightened by his habit of pausing at
the end of every two or three words, to emit a few puffs of smoke.
Having exhausted a good deal of small talk in this way, and having,
moreover, finished his pipe, the doctor went to the stove to refill
and relight.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27