The Settlers in Canada Part 16

After dinner they renewed their labors, and commenced clearing away a path to the lodge, where the cows were locked in, and before nightfall they had accomplished their task as far as the bridge over the stream, which was about half-way. It had been a day of great fatigue, and they were glad to retire to rest. Mrs. Campbell and the girls had put an additional supply of blankets and skins upon the beds, for the cold was now intense, and the thermometer stood far below the freezing point.

The following morning they resumed their task; the sky was still unclouded, and the sun shone out clear and bright. By dinner-time the path to the cow house had been completed; and the men then employed themselves in carrying as much fire-wood as they could, before it was dark, within the palisades.

"Well," observed Alfred, "now things may go on as usual within doors; and what have we to do out, Martin?"

"You must first get on your snow-shoes, and learn to walk in them,"

observed Martin; "or otherwise you'll be a prisoner as well as the ladies. You see, John, you're not at Malachi's lodge."

"Go to-morrow," replied John.

"No; not to-morrow, for I must go with you," said Martin; "I can not trust you for finding your way; and I can not go to-morrow nor the next day either. We must kill our beef to-morrow; there's no fear but it will keep all the winter now, and we shall save our hay."

"My larder is but poorly furnished," observed Mrs. Campbell.

"Never mind, ma'am, we'll soon have something in it, which will save our beef. In another week you shall have it well stocked."

"John," said Mr. Campbell, "recollect you must not go away without Martin."

"I won't," replied John.

All the game in the larder having been consumed, they sat down to salt pork and some of the fish which had been cured. The latter was p.r.o.nounced to be excellent.

"What is the name of this fish, Martin?"

"It is called the white-fish," replied Martin, "and I have heard gentry from the old country say that they have none better, if any so good."

"It is certainly most excellent," replied Mr. Campbell, "and we will not forget to have a good provision for next winter, if it please G.o.d to spare our lives."

"Where were you born, Martin?" said Henry, as they were sitting round the kitchen fire, as usual in the evening.

"Why, Mr. Henry, I was born at Quebec. My father was a corporal in the army under General Wolfe, and was wounded in the great battle fought between him and the Frenchman Montcalm."

"In which both generals were killed, but the victory was to us."

"So I've heard, sir," replied Martin. "My mother was an English woman, and I was born about four years after the surrender of Quebec. My mother died soon afterward, but my father was alive about five years ago, I believe. I can't exactly say, as I was for three or four years in the employ of the Fur Company, and when I returned, I found that he was dead."

"And you have been a hunter all your life?"

"Not all my life, and not exactly a hunter. I call myself a trapper, but I still am both. I first was out with the Indians when I was about fourteen, for you see my father wanted to make me a drummer, and I could not stand that; so I said to him, 'Father, I won't be a drummer.'

'Well,' says he, 'Martin, you must help yourself, for all my interest lies in the army.' 'So I will,' says I; 'father, I'm off for the woods.'

'Well,' says he, 'just as you like, Martin.' So one fine day I wished him good-by, and did not see him again for more than two years."

"Well, and what took place then?"

"Why, I brought home three or four packages of good skins, and sold them well. Father was so pleased, that he talked of turning trapper himself, but, as I told the old man, a man with a lame leg--for he had been wounded in the leg and halted--would not make his livelihood by hunting in the woods of Canada."

"Was your father still in the army?"

"No, ma'am, he was not in the army; but he was employed in the storekeeper's department; they gave him the berth on account of his wound."

"Well, go on, Martin."

"I haven't much more to say, ma'am, I brought home my furs, sold them, and father helped me to spend the money as long as he was alive, and very welcome he was to his share. I felt rather queer when I came back from the Fur Company and found that the old man was dead, for I had looked forward with pleasure to the old man's welcome, and his enjoying his frolic with me as usual."

"I'm afraid those frolics were not very wise, Martin."

"No, sir, they were very foolish, I believe; but I fear it will always be the case with us trappers. We are like sailors, we do not know what to do with money when we get it; so we throw it away, and the sooner the better, for it is our enemy while we have it. I a.s.sure you, sir, that I used to feel quite happy when all my money was gone, and I was setting off to the woods again. It's a hard life, but a life that unfits you for any other; a life which you become very fond of. I don't mind being here with you by way of a change; indeed, as long as there is hunting, it is almost as good as if I were in the woods, but else I think I shall die a trapper."

"But, Martin," said Mr. Campbell, "how much more wise would it be to put your money by, and after a time purchase a farm and settle down a steady man with property, perhaps married and the father of a family."

"Perhaps it might be; but if I do not like it so well as trapping, I don't see why I should do so; it would be changing my life to please others and not myself."

"That's very true, Martin," said Alfred, laughing.

"Perhaps Martin may change his mind before he is an old man," replied Mrs. Campbell. "Dear me! what noise was that?" exclaimed Mrs. Campbell, as a melancholy howl was heard without.

"Only a rascally wolf, ma'am," said Martin; "we must expect the animals to be about us now that the snow has fallen, and the winter has set in."

"A wolf! are they not dangerous, Martin?" inquired Mary Percival.

"That depends, miss, how hungry they may be; but they are not very fond of attacking a human being; if we had any sheep outside, I fancy that they would stand a bad chance."

The howl was repeated, when one or two of the dogs which had been admitted into the house and were stretched before the fire, roused up and growled.

"They hear him, ma'am, and if we were to let them out, would soon be at him. No, no, John, sit still and put down your rifle; we can't afford to hurt wolves; their skins won't fetch a half-dollar, and their flesh is not fit for a clog, let alone a Christian. Let the vermin howl till he is tired; he'll be off to the woods again before daylight."

"There is certainly something very melancholy and dreadful to me in that howl," said Emma; "it frightens me."

"What, Emma, afraid?" said Alfred, going to her; "why yes, really she trembles; why, my dear Emma, do you recollect how frightened you and Mary were at the noise of the frogs when you first came here; you got used to it very soon, and so you will to the howl of a wolf."

"There is some difference, Alfred," replied Emma, shuddering as the howl was repeated. "I don't know how it is," said she, rallying her spirits, "but I believe it was reading Little Red Riding Hood when I was a child, which has given me such a horror of a wolf; I shall get over it very soon, I have no doubt."

"I must say, that it does not create the most agreeable sensation in my mind," observed Mrs. Campbell, "but I was aware of what we were to encounter when we came here, and if it is only to be annoyed with the cry of a wild beast, we may consider that we get off very cheaply."

"I should feel much more at ease, if all the rifles were loaded," said Mary Percival, in her usual quiet way.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LADY-MILKMAIDS.]

"And I too," said Emma.

"Well, then, if that will at all relieve your minds, it is easily done,"

said Mr. Campbell; "let us all load our rifles, and put them back in their rests."

"Mine's loaded," said John.

"And the rest soon shall be," said Alfred, "even the three appropriated for your use, mother and cousins. Now don't you feel some satisfaction in knowing you can load and fire them yourselves? the practice you had during the fine weather has not been thrown away, has it, dear Emma?"

"No, it has not, and I am very glad that I did learn it; I am a coward in apprehension, Alfred, but, perhaps, if I was put to the test, I should behave better."