Grit A-Plenty Part 6

"I'd like t' hunt with ye, Davy. I think we'd get along fine," said Indian Jake, smiling down ingratiatingly at David, and Indian Jake had a bland and pleasant smile when he chose, in spite of his beaked nose and hawk's eyes.

And so it came about that Indian Jake went to The Jug the next day with David and Andy. And because there was such urgent need of money, and also because David pleaded so hard, and Indian Jake was so good a trapper--for no one doubted his ability--it was decided that not only David, but Andy also, should go with Indian Jake to Seal Lake for the winter, as we shall presently see.

The boys were pleased beyond measure, for now each felt he was in truth to take a man's place and do his part in earnest, and they were quite sure that the problem of getting the money to pay the expense of curing Jamie's eyes was solved. And perhaps, too, they were pleased with the promise of adventure, for every red-blooded boy loves adventure; and to be buried in the depths of the great wilderness for many months, with no other companion than Indian Jake, was adventure in itself. And, indeed, there was to be plenty of it for both of them, and of hardships, too.

"Then you'll be goin' home with Andy and me tomorrow to ask Pop?"

inquired David expectantly.

"Yes," said Indian Jake, with undoubted satisfaction. "I'll go back with you."

David could scarce suppress his excitement, but neither he nor Andy nor Indian Jake himself thought best to refer to the arrangement when, a moment later, they followed the others into Zeke Hodge's cabin. Tea was ready, and they drew up to the table with Zeke and Hiram and Uncle Ben.

In the center of the clean-scoured, uncovered table was a big, steaming dish of stewed porcupine and doughboys, and at either end a plate piled high with huge slices of bread, and when Zeke had asked the blessing, Mrs. Hodge and Kate, her fifteen-year-old daughter, poured tea and otherwise served the men while they ate.

"Porcupine! Dear eyes! Porcupine!" exclaimed Uncle Ben, helping himself generously. "Where'd ye get un, Zeke? They're wonderful scarce these days. _Wonderful_ scarce! I ain't seen one since last spring."

"Right back here in th' green-woods," said Zeke. "I heard th' dogs yelpin' this mornin'; and I goes t' see what 'tis all about. There sat th' porcupine hunched up, and th' old dogs in a circle around he, doin' th' yelpin', and two of th' young dogs pawin' at their noses and whinin', with their mouths full o' quills."

"Huh-huh," chuckled Uncle Ben. "Th' old uns knew enough t' keep away from danger. They'd been there theirselves, or seen them that had, and th' young dogs had t' get hurt t' learn enough t' leave dangerous things alone."

"It took me an hour t' pull th' quills out o' their noses and mouths with a pair of pincers," said Zeke. "They'll know enough t' give porcupines room after this."

"Some folks is like porcupines," observed Uncle Ben, glancing at Indian Jake, who seemed quite unconscious of the thrust. "It's best not t' have any dealin's with un."

David and Andy were too full of their plans, and too hungry, and well occupied with the toothsome dish, to heed Uncle Ben's suggestion. And though many times that evening, while the men sat smoking their pipes and talking about this and that, Uncle Ben made blunt and cutting remarks that were aimed at Indian Jake's character and honesty, the half-breed kept his temper and silence, with a remarkable display of self-control. Once or twice, to be sure, a sneering smile stole upon his face. It might have been that he held the esteem of the others in fine contempt, or possibly he awaited a better opportunity for accounting and revenge.

But so far as David and Andy were concerned, they were thinking only of Indian Jake's ability as a trapper, and were quite transported by the belief that they had already solved the problems of the future.

With Indian Jake's help they were well satisfied the money would be earned to pay for Jamie's cure. It only remained to gain their father's consent to David's plan. They were optimists. They believed that what they wished to be, would be, if they did their best to make their wishes realized. Only experience can teach that the best laid plans sometimes fail.

V

UNCLE BEN GIVES WARNING

In the beginning Thomas had a decided feeling of uncertainty concerning Indian Jake, because of Indian Jake's record of two years before. The debt that he had left unpaid was for provisions and clothing which had been advanced him by the Hudson's Bay Company that he might subsist during the hunting season, and with the understanding that he would pay the indebtedness by trading in at the Company's store the furs he trapped.

It was a debt of honor, thought Thomas and the other Bay folk, and the furs, to their way of thinking, belonged rightfully to the Company; and therefore, in taking them away with him, Indian Jake had actually been guilty of dishonesty. Indian Jake agreed with Thomas, who stated his opinion plainly to the half-breed.

"I know the furs were the Company's," said Indian Jake, "but I had reasons for goin'. Now I've come back t' straighten up what I owe. All I want is a chance, and I can't pay what I owe if n.o.body gives me the chance, and down t' th' tradin' posts they won't trust me, and n.o.body else wants to, unless you do."

"Well," said Thomas, after a little consideration, "I'll do it. 'Tis a fine place for fur where I traps, and you'll make a fine hunt.

"But you'll be huntin' one trail, and if I let Davy go he'll be huntin' another, and Davy'll only see you once a week, _what_ever.

'Twill be a wonderful lonely time for Davy between times alone, and he might have a mishap, for 'tisn't natural for a young lad t' be over careful. I'm not thinkin' I'll let he go, Jake. You'll have t' hunt alone. Davy's too young yet for th' work."

"It's all the same t' me," said Indian Jake, "huntin' alone or with company."

"Oh, but, Pop," pleaded David in deep disappointment. "I'll be wonderful careful. I'll 'bide in th' tilts when th' weather's too nasty t' be out. I _wants_ t' go. I'll get _some_ fur, _what_ever, and we needs un all to pay for th' cure t' Jamie's eyes."

Jamie's eyes! Thomas looked at Jamie, who was standing at the window, vainly trying to peer through the ever-present mist, and as he saw Jamie raise his hand to brush the mist away a great lump came into his throat.

"Davy," said he, after a little silence, "you're a brave lad, and careful, but 'tis a wonderful lonely place up there, trampin' th'

trails. The storms come sudden and awful sometimes, and it takes a man's strength to face un. 'Tis frostier there, too, than here.

There's none o' th' comfort o' th' home you've always been used to.

I'd never rest easy if I let you go and you never came back."

"But," insisted David, "I'll be careful and come back--and Jamie mustn't be let t' go blind. 'Twould be worse for he than bein' dead.

_Let_ me go, Pop!"

"I'll think about un--I'll think about un," said Thomas, and he closed his eyes to think.

At the end of ten minutes, when Thomas opened his eyes again, he had decided, and turning to Indian Jake, he said:

"I'm thinkin', now, I'll let Davy go, and I'll let Andy go along t'

keep Davy company and help he. The two will be company for each other, and doin' th' work together they'll get over th' trail faster than ever Davy could alone, and if they's a mishap, one can help the other.

But you'll have t' keep an eye to un, Jake!"

"It's all the same to me, whether one or both of 'em go," said Indian Jake. "I'll keep an eye on 'em, so they won't get in trouble."

"Thank you, Pop! I'll be wonderful careful," said David, with vast relief and satisfaction.

"Are you meanin' _I'm_ t' go t' th' trails, too?" asked Andy, who had been standing with David and Indian Jake by the bedside.

"Aye, Andy, lad," said Thomas, "you'll go along and help Davy."

"Oh--Pop!" exclaimed Andy, which was all his emotions and excitement would permit him to say.

"Is you glad, now?" asked Thomas with a smile, for he knew very well how glad Andy was. It is the greatest wish of every lad on The Labrador to go to the trails and hunt, as his father does, and eagerly he waits for the time when he may go. It is a brave life, that, living in the midst of the great wilderness, surrounded by its ever-present mysteries, and what boy is there who does not wish to do brave deeds?

'Tis a man's work, following the trails, and the trapper plays a man's game, and what boy does not wish to play a man's game?

"Oh, I'm _wonderful_ glad!" exclaimed Andy.

"'Twill be fine t' have Andy along!" broke in David, "and we'll hunt fine together."

"We'll hunt un the best ever we can," a.s.serted Andy.

And thus it had been decided, and the plan seemed a good one to Doctor Joe, for it was the only solution of the problem of how to get the money that would be so necessary the following summer.

Nevertheless, neither Doctor Joe nor Thomas could quite rid himself of a feeling of anxiety and uncertainty as to the wisdom of permitting the boys to enter the wilderness with Indian Jake. They could not forget his record, in spite of his fair promises, and try as they would they could not feel complete confidence in him.

The days that followed were busy ones at The Jug. It was the middle of the first week in September, and Indian Jake was eager to be away to the trapping grounds the following Monday, for it would be a three weeks' journey, and with the coming of October the lakes might be expected to freeze at any time. They would travel by boat and therefore it was essential that they arrive at their destination on Seal Lake before the freeze-up came.

And so there was great hustle and bustle, a.s.sembling the outfit and getting all in readiness. And Margaret, too, was no less busy than the others, working early and late preparing the warm clothing that the boys would need.

Each was to be supplied with two adikys, one of heavy kersey cloth and one of moleskin. The latter, with its close-woven, smooth surface, would be an excellent protection from the wind, and snow would not readily cling to it, and it was made large enough to wear over the former. Both garments were fitted with hoods, and the hood on the kersey adiky was trimmed with fur around the face to add to its warmth and comfort. These garments were to be drawn on over the head like a sweater, but were loose and roomy. There were no b.u.t.tons, and no openings where snow could sift in, and a drawstring around the face permitted them to be adjusted snugly to the cheeks, though there was no attempt to have them cover nose or mouth, for were that done the moisture from the breath would freeze upon the face and cause painful frostbite.