Читать книгу: «Cedar Creek: From the Shanty to the Settlement. A Tale of Canadian Life», страница 11

CHAPTER XXI

THE FOREST MAN

During the momentary pause that followed the bringing up of the ice-boat broadside to the breeze, they could hear the fluctuating surge of deep waters, sucking, plunging—in that large dark patch on the ice. An instant more of such rapid progression would have sunk them in it, beyond all hope.

'Live and learn, they say,' remarked Sam Holt, rising from his prostrate position beside the cargo; 'and I certainly had yet to learn that breathing-holes could form at such an early period in the winter as this. We had better retrace our steps a bit, Wynn; for the ice is probably unsound for some distance about that split.'

'A merciful escape,' said Arthur, after they had worked their way backwards a few yards.

'Ay, and even if we could have pulled up ourselves on the brink, the sledge must have been soused to a dead certainty. Had the snow-flakes been a trifle thicker, we wouldn't have seen the hole till we were swimming, I guess. And it's well this cord of Uncle Zack's was rotten, or the sail would have been too much for my pull.' One of the ropes stretching the lower side of the blanket had snapped under the sudden pressure of Sam Holt's vigorous jerk round, and thereby lessened the forward force.

They made a long circuit of the deadly breathing-hole, and then ran for the nearest shore on the farthest side. The deepening layer of soft snow on the surface of the ice impeded the smooth action of the runners considerably, and made travelling laborious.

Under the lee of a promontory covered with pines they drew up to rest for a few minutes, and shake away loose snow.

'You know everything, Holt, so you can tell me why those treacherous breaks in the ice are called breathing-holes.'

'I believe there's no reason to be given beyond a popular Canadian superstition that a lake needs air as well as a human being, and must have it by bursting these openings through its prison of ice. The freezing is generally uniform all over the surface at first, and after a month or so it cracks in certain spots, perhaps where there exists some eddy or cross current in the water. But evidently the hole we saw a while ago was never frozen at all. Uncle Zack would tell you it is over some dismal cavern whence issue whirlwinds and foul air.'

'I think we should get on almost better without skates,' said Arthur, when they had struggled a furlong farther.

'We are in a drift just now,' answered Mr. Holt; 'the wind has heaped the snow up along here. Certainly the skates would be of more use to us farther out on the pond; but I think we had better be cautious, and continue to coast;' and so they did, having the fear of other possible breathing-holes before their eyes.

How grandly roared the wind through the forest of pines with a steady persistent swelling sound, as of breakers upon an iron shore, sweeping off masses of snow wherewith to drown all landmarks in undistinguishable drifts of whiteness, and driving aslant the descending millions of flakes, till the outlines of the lake landscape were confused to the eyes which tried to trace familiar copse or headland.

Sam Holt was secretly somewhat disquieted, and watched narrowly for the cedars which denoted the Wynns' land. He would have abandoned the ice-boat but for unwillingness to risk the fruit of their day's journey. They must be near the swamp and the creek now; it was scarcely possible they could have passed without recognising the cove whence they had issued in the morning; and yet there was a chance. For the weather was extremely thick, and daylight was fading quickly: the disguise of drifts is bewildering, even to the most practised eye.

'Ha! there are our cedars at last!' exclaimed Arthur. 'How the snow has buried them; they look stunted. I suppose up here's the creek;' and he laid his hand beside his mouth to shout a signal to the shanty, which was smothered immediately in the greater tumult of the storm.

Mr. Holt left the grounded ice-boat, and proceeded farther inland to examine the locality, returning in a few minutes, when Arthur had his skates off, with the information that this was merely a cove running in among trees, and by no means the estuary of a stream.

'Now you know, Holt, if this isn't our creek it must be our swamp, and I'm blinded and petrified on that lake. Do let us get overland to the shanty. I'm certain we would travel faster; and we can haul up the planks to-morrow or next day. You see it's getting quite dark.'

'And do you think the pathless forest will be more lightsome than the open ice? No; we'd better kindle a fire, and camp out to-night. I'm pretty sure we must have passed Cedar Creek without knowing.'

Arthur was already so drowsy from the excessive cold that he was only glad of the pretext for remaining still, and yielding to the uncontrollable propensity. But Mr. Holt pulled him on his feet and commanded him to gather brushwood and sticks, while he went about himself picking birch-bark off the dead and living trees. This he spread under the brush and ignited with his tinder-box. The sight of the flame seemed to wake up Arthur with a shock from the lethargy that was stealing over his faculties. Mr. Holt had chosen a good site for his fire in the lee of a great body of pines, whose massive stems broke the wind; so the blaze quickened and prospered, till a great bed of scarlet coals and ends of fagots remained of the first relay of fuel, and another was heaped on. Now Arthur was glowing to his fingers' ends, thoroughly wide awake, and almost relishing the novelty of his lodgings for the night; with snow all around, curtaining overhead, carpeting under foot.

'Curious way they camp out in the Far West,' said Holt, with his arms round his knees, as he sat on their hemlock mattress and gazed into the fire, wherein all old memories seem ever to have a trysting-place with fancy. And so scenes of his roving years came back to him.

'You must know that out in the Hudson's Bay territory the snow is often ten or fourteen feet deep, not only in drifts, but in smooth even layers, obliterating the country inequalities wonderfully. That's the native land of snow-shoes and of furs, where your clothes must be mainly of both for half the year. But I was going to tell you how the voyageurs build a fire when they have to camp out on a winter's night, and there's twelve feet of snow between them and the solid ground.'

'Sheer impossibility,' said Arthur presumptuously; 'the fire would work a hole down.'

'You shall hear. First, they cut down a lot of trees—green timber—about twenty feet or more in length. These are laid closely parallel on the snow, which has previously been beaten to a little consistency by snow-shoes; on the platform thus made the fire is lit, and it burns away merrily.'

'Don't the trees ever burn through?' asked Arthur.

'Seldom; but the heat generally works a cavity in the snow underneath, sometimes quite a chasm, seven or eight feet deep—fire above, water below. Ha! I'm glad to see my old friend the Great Bear looking through over the pines yonder. Our storm has done its worst.'

'Holt, though I'm rather hungry and sleepy, I'm heartily glad of this night's outing, for one reason: you won't be able to leave us to-morrow, and so are booked for another week, old fellow.'

It seemed irrevocably the case; and under this conviction Arthur rolled himself in the blanket (cut from the spar of the ice-boat), and went into dreamland straight from his brushwood bed, Mr. Holt continuing to sit by the fire gazing into it as before; which sort of gazing, experienced people say, is very bad for the eyes. Perhaps it was that which caused a certain moisture to swell into most visible bright drops, filling the calm grey orbs with unspeakable sadness for a little while. The Great Bear climbed higher round the icy pole; the sky had ceased to snow before the absorbed thinker by the fire noticed the change of weather. Then he rose gently, laid further wood on the blazing pile, threw brush about Arthur's feet and body for additional warmth, and, skates in hand, went down to the lake to explore.

On reaching the point of the headland, he looked round. The weather was much clearer; but westwards a glimmering sheen of ice—black land stretching along, black islands, snow-crowned, rising midway afar. Eastward, ha! that is what should have been done hours ago. A fire burned on the edge of the woods at some distance. So they had really passed Cedar Creek unawares, as he suspected from the nature of the ground and trees.

While Robert and Andy crouched by their fire, feeding it up to full blaze with the most resinous wood they could find, the distant shout of the coming travellers gladdened their ears. The servant flung his whole stock of balsam on the beacon at once, causing a most portentous flame-burst, and sprang up with a wild 'hurroo!' wielding one half-burnt fagot à la shillelah about his head.

'Oh, then, Mister Robert, achora, it's yerself is the janius; an' to think of mekin' a lighthouse to guide 'em wid, an' here they are safe home by the manes of it. But now, sir, if ye'll take my advice, as we're always lost when we goes anywhere by ourselves, we ought niver part for the futhur, an' thin we'll all go asthray together safe an' sound.'

'Let's warm ourselves at this glorious fire before we go up to the shanty,' said Arthur, stretching out his feet to the fire. 'Pity to let it waste its sweetness on the desert air.'

So they stood explaining matters by the fire for a few minutes, till Andy, who was never tired of heaping on fresh fuel, came forward with an armful and a puzzled face.

'Mr. Holt, there's somethin' quare in that three, sir, which has a big hole in it full of dhry sticks an' brush, and there's something woolly inside, sir, that I felt wid me two hands; an' more be token it's a big baste, whatever it is.'

'A bear, probably,' said Mr. Holt, as he warmed the sole of one foot. 'Better let him alone till morning, and tuck in his bedclothes again for to-night, poor fellow.' But Arthur had started up to investigate, and must pull the black fleece for his personal satisfaction.

'Oh, throth he's stirrin' now!' exclaimed Andy, who had begun to cram the orifice with the former stuffing of dried bough and brush. 'We've woke him up, Masther Arthur, if it's asleep he was at all, the rogue; an' now he's sthrugglin' out of the hole wid all his might. Keep in there, you big villyan, you don't dare to offer to come out;' for Andy set his shoulder against the great carcase, which nevertheless sheered round till muzzle and paws could be brought into action, and their use illustrated on Andy's person.

'Och, murther!' roared the sufferer; 'he has his arms round me, the baste; he's squeezing me into m—m—mash!'

A blazing stick, drawn from the fire by Mr. Holt's hand, here struck the bear's nose and eyes; which, conjoined with Andy's own powerful wrenching, caused him to loosen his hold, and a ball from the rifle which Robert had fortunately brought down as the companion of their night watch, finished his career.

'Well done, Bob!' when, after a run of thirty yards or so, they stood beside the prostrate enemy; 'you've won our first bear-skin. Now we shall see what the paws are like, in the way of eatables; don't you say they're delicious, Holt?'

Borne upon two strong poles, the bear made his way up to the shanty, and was housed for the rest of the night. Poor Andy was found to be severely scratched by the long sharp claws. 'Sure I'm glad 'twas none of yerselves he tuk to huggin',' said the faithful fellow; 'an' scrapin' as if 'twas a pratie he wanted to peel!'

He had his revenge on the forepaws next morning when Mr. Holt cut them off, some time before breakfast, and set them in a mound of hot ashes to bake, surrounding and crowning them further with live coals. Bruin himself was dragged outside into the snow, preparatory to the operation of skinning and cutting up into joints of excellent meat.

'Do you know, I saw an amazing resemblance to a fur-coated man, as he stood up last night before Robert's shot,' said Arthur.

'You're not the first to see it,' replied Holt. 'The Indians call him "the forest man," and the Lower Canadians the "bourgeois;" they attribute to him a sagacity almost human; the Crees and Ojibbeways fancy him an enchanted being, and will enter into conversation with him when they meet in the woods.'

'Yet they take an unfair advantage of his paws.'

'That's true: my cookery must be almost done.' And he re-entered the hut to dish up his dainty. 'Come, who'll feast with me?'

'Appearances are much against them,' said Robert, eyeing the charcoal-looking paws, which presented soles uppermost on the trencher. Mr. Holt scooped out a portion on to his own plate, and used no further persuasion.

''Twould never do not to know the taste of bear's paw,' said Arthur, as if winding himself up to the effort of picking a small bit. Mr. Holt was amused to see the expression of enlightened satisfaction that grew on his face. 'Oh, Bob, 'tis really capital. That's only a prejudice about its black look,' helping himself again. 'The Indians aren't far removed from epicures, when this is their pet dish.'

'Well,' observed Mr. Holt, filling his horn cup with tea from the kettle, 'they equally relish fried porcupines and skunks; but some of their viands might tempt an alderman—such as elk's nose, beaver's tail, and buffalo's hump.'

'Holt,' said Arthur, scooping the paw a third time, 'it seemed to me that chap had fixed himself in a hole barely big enough, to judge by the way he wriggled out.'

'Very likely. "Bears are the knowingest varmint in all creation," as Uncle Zack would say. They sometimes watch for days before entering a tree, and then choose the smallest opening possible, for warmth's sake, and scrape up brush and moss to conceal themselves. I've known the hollow tree to be such a tight fit that the hunters were compelled to cut it open to get at the bear after he was shot. I suspect the heat of our fire had roused this one, even before Andy pulled away the brush, or he wouldn't ha' been so lively.'

'What's the meat like, Holt? I hope it don't taste carnivorous.'

'You'll hardly know it from beef, except that the shorter grain makes it tenderer; for the bear lives on the best products of the forest. He'll sit on his haunches before a serviceberry tree, bend the branches with his paws, and eat off the red fruit wholesale. He'll grub with his claws for the bear potatoes, and chew them like tobacco. He'll pick the kernels out of nuts, and help himself to your maize and fall wheat when you have them, as well as to your sucking pigs and yearly calves.'

'Then we may fairly eat him in return,' said Robert; 'but I'll leave the paws to you and Arthur.'

'Thank you for the monopoly. Now these knives are sufficiently sharp.' Sam Holt had been putting an edge on them at the grindstone during his talk. 'Come and have your lesson in fur-making, for I must be off.'

'Off! oh, nonsense; not to-day,' exclaimed both. But he was quite unpersuadeable when once his plan was fixed. He took the stage at Greenock that afternoon.

CHAPTER XXII

SILVER SLEIGH-BELLS

The shanty was ere long lined in a comely manner with the planks which had journeyed up the pond in the ice-boat, affording many an evening's work for Arthur. About Christmas all was right and tight.

Now, to those who have any regrets or sadnesses in the background of memory, the painfullest of all times are these anniversaries. One is forced round face to face with the past and the unalterable, to gaze on it, perchance, through blinding tears. The days return—unchanged: but, oh, to what changed hearts!

Were they not thinking of the Canadian exiles to-day, at home, at dear old Dunore? For nothing better than exiles did the young men feel themselves, this snow-white Christmas morning, in the log-hut among the backwoods, without a friendly face to smile a greeting, except poor Andy's; and his was regretful and wistful enough too.

'I say, Bob, what shall we do with ourselves? I'm sure I wish I didn't know 'twas Christmas day at all. It makes a fellow feel queer and nonsensical—homesick, I suppose they call it—and all that sort of thing. I vote we obliterate the fact, by chopping as hard as any other day.'

So, after reading the chapters for the day (how the words brought up a picture of the wee country church in Ireland, with its congregation of a dozen, its whitewashed walls and blindless lancet windows!), they went forth to try that relief for all pains of memory—steady hard work. The ten acres allotted for December were nearly chopped through by this time, opening a considerable space in front of the shanty, and beginning to reveal the fair landscape of lake and wooded slopes that lay beyond. The felled trees lay piled in wind rows and plan heaps so far as was possible without the help of oxen to move the huge logs; snow covered them pretty deeply, smoothing all unsightliness for the present.

'How I long to have something done towards the building of our house!' said Robert, pausing after the fall of a hemlock spruce, while Arthur attacked the upper branches. 'I'd like so much to have it neatly finished before my father and mother and Linda come next summer.'

'Well, haven't you no end of shingles made for the roof?' said the other, balancing his axe for a blow. 'You're working at them perpetually; and Andy isn't a bad hand either at wooden slates, as he calls them.'

'We must have a raising-bee in spring,' concluded Robert, after some rumination—'as soon as the snow melts a little. Really, only for such co-operative working in this thinly peopled country, nothing large could be ever effected. Bees were a great device, whoever invented them.'

'By the way,' said Arthur presently, returning from chopping apart the trunk into two lengths of fifteen feet, 'did you hear that the Scotchman between us and the "Corner," at Daisy Burn, wants to sell his farm and improvements, and is pushing out into the wild land farther up the pond? Nim told me yesterday. He expects three pounds sterling an acre, including fixtures, and he got the ground for nothing; so that's doubling one's capital, I imagine.'

'How for nothing?'

'It was before a human being had settled in these townships, and the concession lines were only just blazed off by the surveyors. Davidson obtained a grant of land on condition of performing what are called settlement duties, which means chopping out and clearing the concession lines for a certain distance. Of course that was another way of payment, by labour instead of cash. But on swearing that it was done, he obtained what Nim calls a "lift," a crown patent, we should say, and the land was his estate for ever.'

'I wish we could transfer a couple of his fenced fields here,' said Robert, 'and his young orchard. We must have some sort of a garden, Arthur, before Linda comes.'

'Yes, she never could get on without her flower beds. I say, Bob, won't Cedar Creek look awfully wild to them?'

They worked on awhile both thinking of that. Any one accustomed to smooth enclosed countries, with regular roads and houses at short distances, would indeed find the backwoods 'awfully wild.' And that most gentle mother, how would she bear the transplanting?

'I had a very misty idea of what bush-life was, I own, till I found myself in it,' quoth Robert, after a long silence, broken only by the ring of the axes.

'Living like a labourer at home, but without half his comforts,' said Arthur, piling the boughs. 'Tell you what, Bob, we wouldn't be seen doing the things we do here. Suppose Sir Richard Lacy or Lord Scutcheon saw us in our present trim?'

'But you know that's all false pride,' said Robert, with a little glow on his cheek nevertheless. 'We shouldn't be ashamed of anything but wrong.'

'Say what you will, Bob, it strikes me that we aren't of the class which do best in Canada. The men of hard hands, labouring men and women, are those who will conquer the forest and gain wealth here.'

'Well, if that be the rule, you and I must strive to be the exception,' said Robert; 'for I'm determined to have a comfortable homestead for the dear old people from Dunore, and I'm equally determined to set my mark on Canadian soil, and to prosper, if it be God's will.'

He lifted off his cap for a moment, looking at the serene sky. The rising discontent in his brother's heart was stilled by the gesture. Both worked assiduously, till Andy, with an unusual twinkle in his eyes, summoned them to dinner.

'What has the fellow been about, I wonder? I know 'twasn't respect for the holiday kept him indoors all the morning.'

It was presently explained. Andy, ignorant of courses, dished up, together with the ham, a very fine dumpling emitting the odour of apples.

'Sure, as ye can't have yer own plum puddin' in this outlandish counthry, ye can have a thing the same shape, anyhow. Mrs. Jackey showed me how to make it iligant, of the string of dried bits I had thrun in the box since we kem here first. Throth an' I'm cur'ous to see did they ever swell out agin, afther the parchin' they got.'

But for a slightly peculiar taste in the sweet, the dumpling was unimpeachable.

'I suppose Mrs. Jackey uses maple sugar in her confectionery,' said Robert; 'a soupçon of trees runs through it.'

Late in the evening, as the pitch-pine logs were flaring abundance of light through the cabin—light upon Robert at his shingles, and upon Arthur at his work-bench, and upon Andy shaving and packing the slips of white pine as fast as his master split them, with a stinging night outside, some twenty-five degrees below zero, and the snow crusted at top hard enough to bear anything—all three raised their heads to listen to some approaching sound through the dead silence of the frozen air. It was a very distant vagrant tinkling, as of sheep-bells on a common in old Europe; they looked at one another, and Andy crossed himself reverently.

'Like chapel bells over the say from poor Ireland,' he muttered, and crept to the door, which Robert had opened. 'Sure there isn't fairies all the ways out here? an' 'tis mighty like it'—

'Hush—h—!' Andy crossed himself again as the tinkling became more plainly audible. A sweetly plaintive jangling it seemed—a tangled careless music. Nearer, and still nearer it came.

'What a fool I am!' exclaimed Robert; 'it must be sleigh-bells. Travellers, I suppose.'

And before many minutes were past, the sleigh had rounded its way among the stumps, over the smooth snow, to the shanty door, filled with brilliant wood-light.