Cedar Creek Part 16

'I say, but you're a prime chap arter the rise you took out of the ole c.o.o.n,' was his first remark. 'Uncle Zack was as sartin as I stand of five gallons gone, anyhow; and 'twar a rael balk to put him an' them off with an apology. I guess you won't mind their sayin' it's the truth of a shabby dodge, though.'

'Not a bit,' replied Robert; 'I expected something of the kind. I didn't imagine I'd please anybody but my own conscience.'

'"Conscience!"' reiterated Nim, with a sneer. 'That stock hain't a long life in the bush, I guess. A storekeeper hain't no business on it, nohow--'twould starve him out; so Uncle Zack don't keep it.' And his unpleasant little eyes twinkled again at the idea of such unwonted connection as his father and a conscience.

'That Indjin war hoppin' mad, I can tell you; for they be the greatest brutes at gettin' drunk in the univarsal world. They'll do 'most anythin'

for whisky.'

'The greater the cruelty of giving it to them,' said Robert.

'What are you doin'?' asked Nimrod, after a moment's survey of the other's work.

'Shingling,' was the reply. 'Learning to make shingles.'

'An' you call _them_ shingles?' kicking aside, with a gesture of contempt, the uneven slices of pinewood which had fallen from Robert's tool. 'You hain't dressed the sapwood off them blocks, and the grain eats into one another besides. True for Uncle Zack that gentry from the old country warn't never born to be handlin' axes an' frows. It don't come kinder nateral. They shouldn't be no thicker than four to an inch to be rael handsome shingles,' added he, 'such as sell for seven-an'-sixpence a thousand.'

Nimrod's pertinacious supervision could not be got rid of until dinner; not even though Mr. Wynn asked him his errand in no conciliatory tone.

'Thought I'd kinder like to see how ye were gettin' on,' was the answer.

'New settlers is so precious awk'ard. Thought I'd loaf about awhile, an'

see. It's sorter amusin'.'

He was so ignorantly unconscious of doing anything offensive by such gratification of his curiosity, that Robert hardly knew whether to laugh or be angry. Nimrod's thick-skinned sensibilities would have cared little for either. He lounged about, whittling sticks, chewing tobacco, and asking questions, until Andy's stentorian call resounded through the woods near.

'I guessed I'd dine with you to-day,' said Nim, marching on before his host. With equal coolness, as soon as the dish of trout appeared, he transfixed the largest with his case-knife.

'Not so fast, my friend,' interrupted Mr. Holt, bringing back the captive. 'We divide fair here, though it's not Yankee law, I'm aware.'

'Ah, you warn't born yesterday,' rejoined Nim, showing his yellow teeth, which seemed individually made and set after the pattern of his father's. 'You're a smart man, I guess--raised in Amerikay, an' no mistake.'

'But come, Andy,' said Arthur, 'tell us where you caught these fine trout? You've altogether made a brilliant effort to-day in the purveying line: the cakes are particularly good.'

'They're what them French fellers call "galettes,"' observed Nimrod, biting one. 'Flour an' water, baked in the ashes. Turnpike bread is better--what the ole gall makes to hum.'

Be it remarked that this periphrasis indicated his mother; and that the bread he alluded to is made with a species of leaven.

'So ye _ate_ turnpikes too,' remarked Andy, obliquely glancing at the speaker. 'The English language isn't much help to a man in this counthry, where everythin' manes somethin' else. Well, Misther Arthur, about the trout; you remimber I went down to the "Corner" this mornin'.

Now it's been on my mind some days back, that ye'd want a few shirts washed.'

'But what has that to do with the trout'--interrupted Arthur, laughing.

'Whisht awhile, an' you'll hear. I didn't know how to set about it, no more than the child of a month old; for there's an art in it, of coorse, like in everythin' else; an' one time I thried to whiten a shirt of my own--beggin' yer honours' pardon for mintionin' the article--it kem out of the pot blacker than it wint in. So sez I to meself, "I'll look out for the clanest house, an' I'll ax the good woman to tache me how to wash a thing;" an' I walks along from the store to a nate little cabin back from the river, that had flowers growin' in the front; an' sure enough, the floor was as clane as a dhrawin' room, an' a dacent tidy little woman kneadin' a cake on the table. "Ma'am," sez I, "I'm obliged to turn washerwoman, an' I don't know how;" but she only curtseyed, and said somethin' in a furrin tongue.'

'A French Canadian, I suppose,' said Mr. Wynn.

'Jackey Dubois lives in the log-hut with the flowers,' observed Nim, who was whittling again by way of desert.

'May be so; but at all events she was as like as two peas to the girl whose weddin' I was at since I came ash.o.r.e. "Ma'am," sez I, "I want to larn to be a washerwoman:" and wid that I took off my neckerchief an'

rubbed it, to show what I meant, by the rule of thumb. "Ah, to vash,"

sez she, smilin' like a leathercoat potato. So, afther that, she took my handkercher and washed it fornent me out; an' I'd watched before how she med the cakes, an' cleared a little s.p.a.ce by the fire to bake 'em, an'

covered them up wid hot ashes.'

'Not a word about the trout,' said Arthur.

'How can I tell everything intirely all at wanst?' replied the Irishman, with an injured tone. 'Sure I was comin' to that. I observed her lookin'

partikler admirin' at the handkercher, which was a handsome yellow spot, so I up an' axed her to take a present of it, an' I settled it like an ap.r.o.n in front, to show how iligant 'twould look; an' she was mighty plased, an' curtseyed ever so often, an' Jackey himself gev me the trout out of a big basket he brought in. The river's fairly alive wid 'em, I'm tould: an' they risin' to a brown-bodied fly, Misther Arthur.'

'We'll have a look at them some spare day, Andy.'

'But what tuk my fancy intirely, was the iligant plan of bilin' 'em she had. There war round stones warmin' in the fire, and she dropped 'em into a pot of water till it was scalding hot; then in wid the fish, addin' more stones to keep it singin'. It's an Indjin fashion, Jackey told me; for they haven't nothin' to cook in but wooden pails; but I thried it wid them trout yer atin', an' it answered beautiful.'

Andy bid fair to be no mean _chef-de-cuisine_, if his experiments always resulted so favourably as in the present instance.

'An' the whole of it is, Misther Robert, that this Canada is a counthry where the very best of atin' and dhrinkin' is to be had for the throuble of pickin' it up. Don't I see the poorest cabins wid plenty of bacon hangin' to the rafthers, an' the trees is full of birds that n.o.body can summons you for catchin', and the sthrames is walkin' wid fish; I'm tould there's sugar to be had by bilin' the juice of a bush; an' if you scratch the ground, it'll give you bushels of praties an' whate for the axin'. I wish I had all the neighbours out here, that's a fact; for it's a grand poor man's counthry, an' there's too many of us at home, Misther Robert; an' (as if this were the climax of wonders) I never see a beggar since I left the Cove o' Cork!'

'All true, Andy, quite true,' said his master, with a little sigh. 'Hard work will get a man anything here.'

'I must be goin',' said Nimrod, raising his lank figure on its big feet.

'But I guess that be for you;' and he tossed to Robert a soiled piece of newspaper, wrapped round some square slight packet.

'Letters from home! Why, you unconscionable'--burst forth Arthur; 'loafing about here for these three hours, and never to produce them!'

But Nim had made off among the trees, grinning in every long tooth.

Ah! those letters from home! How sweet, yet how saddening! Mr. Holt went off to chop alone. But first he found time to intercept Nimrod on the road, and rather lower his triumphant flush at successfully 'riling the Britishers,' by the information that he (Mr. Holt) would write to the post-office authorities, to ask whether their agent at the 'Corner' was justified in detaining letters for some hours after they might have been delivered.

CHAPTER XVIII.

GIANT TWO-SHOES.

The calendar of the settler is apt to get rather confused, owing to the uniformity of his life and the absence of the landmarks of civilisation.

Where 'the sound of the church-going bell' has never been heard, and there is nothing to distinguish one day from another, but the monotonous tide of time lapses on without a break, it will easily be imagined that the observance of a Sabbath is much neglected, either through forgetfulness or press of labour. The ministrations of religion by no means keep pace with the necessities of society in the Canadian wilds.

Here is a wide field for the spiritual toil of earnest men, among a people speaking the English language and owning English allegiance; and unless the roots of this great growing nation be grounded in piety, we cannot hope for its orderly and healthful expansion in that 'righteousness which exalteth a people.'

Once a year or so, an itinerant Methodist preacher visited the 'Corner,'

and held his meeting in Zack Bunting's large room. But regular means of grace the neighbourhood had none. A result was, that few of the settlers about Cedar Creek acknowledged the Sabbath rest in practice; and those who were busiest and most isolated sometimes lost the count of their week-days altogether. Robert Wynn thought it right to mark off Sunday very distinctly for himself and his household by a total cessation of labour, and the establishment of regular worship. Andy made no sort of objection, now that he was out of the priest's reach.

Other days were laborious enough. In the underbrushing was included the cutting up all fallen timber, and piling it in heaps for the spring burnings. Gradually the dense thickets of hemlock, hickory, and balsam were being laid in windrows, and the long darkened soil saw daylight.

The fine old trees, hitherto swathed deeply in ma.s.ses of summer foliage, stood with bared bases before the axe, awaiting their stroke likewise.

Then the latest days in November brought the snow. Steadily and silently the grey heavens covered the shivering earth with its smooth woolly coating of purest flakes. While wet Atlantic breezes moaned sorrowfully round Dunore, as if wailing over shattered fortunes, the little log-shanty in the Canadian bush was deep in snow. Not so large as the butler's pantry in that old house at home, nor so well furnished as the meanest servant's apartment had been during the prosperous times, with hardly one of the accessories considered indispensable to comfort in the most ordinary British sitting-room, yet the rough shanty had a pleasantness of its own, a brightness of indoor weather, such as is often wanting where the fittings of domestic life are superb. Hope was in the Pandora's box to qualify all evils.

By the firelight the settlers were this evening carrying on various occupations. Mr. Holt's seemed the most curious, and was the centre of attraction, though Robert was cutting shingles, and Arthur manufacturing a walnut-wood stool in primitive tripod style.

'I tell you what,' said he, leaning on the end of his plane, whence a shaving had just slowly curled away, 'I never shall be able to a.s.sist at or countenance a logging-bee, for I consider it the grossest waste of valuable merchandise. The idea of voluntarily turning into smoke and ashes the most exquisitely grained bird's-eye maple, black walnut, heart-of-oak, cherry, and birch--it's a shame for you, Holt, not to raise your voice against such wilful waste, which will be sure to make woful want some day. Why, the cabinetmakers at home would give you almost any money for a cargo of such walnut as this under my hand.'