The Wilderness Castaways Part 24

"But they ain't no use puttin' un off," suggested Dan, finally, after they had discussed at some length the probable outcome of the coming interview. "What we has t' do, we has t' do, an' th' sooner 'tis done th' sooner 'tis over. An' you knows wonderful well, Paul, how t' talk t' he."

"I'm not afraid of him," declared Paul, working up his courage. "Let's go now and see if he's in the office."

Factor MacTavish was in his office, busy with accounts, when they entered, but for full ten minutes he ignored their presence. Finally looking up he said, in a much pleasanter tone than that of the previous evening:

"Come here, boys."

They stepped up to his desk.

"How did you pa.s.s the night?" he asked.

"Very comfortably, thank you," answered Paul.

"I've been thinking about you fellows, and I've decided to let you remain at the post and work for your living. We're shorthanded, and it's mighty lucky for you that we are, for we can't keep hangers-on and idlers around here. You--what is your name?"

"Paul Densmore."

"You go over to the blacksmith's shop, and help Thomas Ferguson, and do whatever he wants you to do. And you other fellow, what's your name?"

"Dan'l Rudd, sir."

"You can help Amos Tupper in the cooper shop."

"Yes, sir."

"When they haven't anything for you to do, there's plenty of wood to saw and split, and enough to keep you busy. Now get out."

Then Paul and Dan turned to go.

"Hold on! You'll stay in the men's house with the others. Are those the only clothes you have?"

"All except some underclothes," answered Paul.

"Well, they'll not be enough for winter. James," to the chief clerk, "have adikeys made for these fellows, and some duffel socks and deerskin moccasins, and a pair of mittens for each. Now if you fellows prove yourselves useful you can stay here for the winter, and if you don't I'll kick you both out of the post. You may go."

It was an effort for Paul to restrain himself from making a defiant reply, but he realized in time that this might get them into trouble.

He felt incensed that his word had not been taken, when he promised that his father would pay his own and Dan's expenses. He was on the whole very glad, however, that even this arrangement had been made, for the storm had brought him a realization of the fruitlessness of any attempt to live in the open with their insufficient equipment, together with the uncertainty of killing sufficient game to sustain them.

And so Paul Densmore, the only son of a king of finance, a youth who would one day be a multi-millionaire in his own right, was glad enough to earn his living as a common laborer.

CHAPTER XIV

A LONELY CHRISTMAS

Dan had been accustomed to work and exposure all his life, and he found his new employment, on the whole, not disagreeable. Paul's experiences after they had gone adrift had to some extent prepared him, also, for the tasks he was now called upon to perform, and at the end of a week he became fairly well reconciled to his position.

Aside from giving them a curt order now and again, Factor MacTavish rarely spoke to either of them. He invariably treated them as ordinary menials--as he treated the unskilled half-breed servants--useful auxiliaries to the post life, just as the dogs were useful auxiliaries, and save for the fact that he did not kick or beat them, he gave them little more consideration than he gave the dogs.

In accordance with the factor's instructions, James Benton, the chief clerk, or "clark" as he called himself, supplied each of them with two suits of heavy underwear; a kersey cloth adikey--an Eskimo garment which was pulled over the head like a shirt and was supplied with a hood--an outer adikey made like the other but of smooth cotton cloth, to shed the snow; three pairs of duffel socks made from heavy woolen cloth; a pair of deerskin moccasins made by an Indian woman; a pair of moleskin leggings; and warm mittens; and each was given a pair of bearspaw snowshoes, without which it would have been quite impossible to have walked in the deep snow.

Each outfit, the clerk informed them, was valued at eighteen dollars, and each boy was charged with this amount on the company's books. They were each to receive their board and three dollars a month wages, the three dollars not to be paid them in money but to be credited to their account until the debt of eighteen dollars was balanced.

Though they had arrived in mid-October, and had begun work at once, Factor MacTavish argued that until they had become accustomed to the duties required of them they would be of little value, and therefore decreed that the munificent wage of three dollars a month should not begin until November. Therefore, they were told, they were virtually bound to the service of the company, with no freedom to leave the post, until the following May, when, if no other purchases were made in the meantime, their debt would be balanced and they would be free to go where they pleased.

"Now if you want the outfit, and want to stay, you'll have to agree to these terms in writing," said the clerk. "If you don't sign a written agreement you'll have to leave the reservation at once."

Thus they were forced to become the victims of a system of peonage, for they had no choice but to sign the agreement.

The lads felt the injustice of this treatment keenly. They were well aware that the value of their work would be many times greater than the amount of wages allowed them, but they were wholly at the mercy of the factor.

"It's an outrage!" exclaimed Paul when he and Dan were alone. "We earn a lot more than three dollars a month. Why Father used to allow me a hundred dollars a month for spending money."

"Yes," said Dan, "we earns anyway ten dollars a month. He's a wonderful hard man. But we'll have t' put up with un, I'm thinkin'."

"He's got us here," complained Paul, "and he knows we can't get away, and he's going to make all he can out of us. The old skinflint!"

"He's sure a hard un," admitted Dan, "but we'll have t' put up with un. Dad says that kind o' man always gets what's comin' to un some time, an' what's comin' to un ain't what they likes, neither."

"And he pretends he's doing us a great favor! The old pirate!"

"They's no use thinkin' about un. Dad says when th' wind's ag'in ye, don't get worked up about un, an' cross. Take un cheerful, an' be happy anyway, an' she'll shift around fair after awhile."

So they gave no hint of discontent, but went cheerfully about the tasks a.s.signed them, as though they really enjoyed them, though much of the philosophy of Dan's "Dad" had to be evoked at times when their spirits flagged, to drive back rising discontent.

But they had enough to eat, and with their new clothing, supplemented by the things they already had, they were warmly enough clad, even when the short days of December came, with biting, bitter cold.

The storm which overtook them on the evening of their arrival at Fort Reliance, continued intermittently for several days. It was the first real storm of winter. Steadily the weather grew colder. By mid-November the bay was frozen solidly as far as eye could reach.

The Indians, save two or three old men and women who did odd ch.o.r.es around the post, had packed their belongings on toboggans in the first lull in the storm, two days after the arrival of Paul and Dan, and the western wilderness had swallowed them in its mysterious depths.

Post life was exceedingly quiet and humdrum, although it possessed something of spice and novelty for the lads, particularly Paul. The dogs always interested him when they were harnessed to the sledge by Jerry, the half-breed Eskimo servant, and he was always glad to be detailed to accompany Jerry and the team when they were engaged in hauling firewood from the near-by forest. The impetuosity and dash of the dogs upon leaving home, and Jerry's management of them and the sledge, filled Paul with admiration. But Paul was especially fascinated by Jerry's dexterity in handling the long walrus hide whip, full thirty feet in length. With it Jerry could reach any lagging dog in the team with unerring aim. He could flick a spot no bigger than a dime with the tip of the lash, and he could crack the whip at will with reports like pistol shots.

Under Jerry's instruction Paul practiced the manipulation of the whip himself, at every opportunity, and he considered it quite an accomplishment when he was able to bring the lash forward and lay it out at full length in front of him. In his early attempts to do this he generally wrapped it around his legs, and occasionally gave himself a stinging blow with the tip end in the back of his neck. But with patient practice he at length found that he could not only strike an object aimed at with considerable skill, but could crack the whip at nearly every attempt.

Jerry was always good natured and indulgent. He taught Paul the knack of managing the dogs and sledge, and at length permitted him to drive the team upon level, easy stretches of trail. On steep down grades, however, where the dogs dashed at top speed and the loaded sledge in its mad rush seemed ever on the point of turning over or smashing against a stump or rock, he had no desire to try his skill and strength.

But these excursions with the dogs were practically the only adventures that came to the boys. Generally they were kept busy at the woodpile, one at either end of a cross-cut saw, cutting the long wood into stove lengths, and splitting it into proper size; or, when the weather was too stormy for out-of-door employment, Paul a.s.sisted Tammas in the blacksmith shop while Dan was kept from idleness by Amos in the cooperage.

Paul was always glad to be with Tammas, who had in a sense adopted both lads, and a.s.sumed a fatherly interest in their welfare. He was kindness itself, though he never failed to correct them when he deemed it necessary. Under his instruction Paul soon learned a great deal about the handling of tools and the working of iron. The greatest drudgery, it seemed to the boys, that fell to their lot was the weekly duty of cleaning the offices and scrubbing the unpainted furniture and floors to a whiteness satisfactory to the factor.

The day before Christmas dawned bitterly cold. The snow creaked under foot. Everything was covered with frost rime. The atmospheric moisture hung suspended in the air in minute frozen particles. When the sun reluctantly rose, it shone faintly through the gauzy veil of rime, and gave forth no warmth to the starved and frozen earth.

Paul and Dan were a.s.signed to the woodpile for the day. All forenoon they sawed and split, working for the most part in silence, for they were filled with thoughts of other Christmas eves, and the loved ones at home.