The Wild Man of the West Part 20

He offered a plug of tobacco to the artist as he spoke.

"Thank you, I do not smoke," said Bertram, declining the proffered luxury. "Tobacco may be good--though I know it not from experience.

Yet, methinks, the man is wiser who does not create an unnatural taste, than he who does so for the purpose of gratifying it."

"Ah! you are a philosopher."

"If judging of things and questions simply on their own merit, and with the single object of ascertaining what is truth in regard to them, const.i.tutes a philosopher, I am."

"Don't you find that men who philosophise in that way are usually deemed an obstinate generation by their fellow-men?" inquired the trader, smiling as he puffed a voluminous cloud from his lips.

"I do," replied Bertram.

"And don't you think the charge is just?" continued the other in a jocular tone.

"I do not," replied the artist. "I think those who call them obstinate are often much more truly deserving of the epithet. Philosophers, in the popular sense of the word, are men who not only acquire knowledge and make themselves acquainted with the opinions of others, but who make independent use of acquired knowledge, and thus originate new ideas and frequently arrive at new conclusions. They thus often come to differ from the rest of mankind on many points, and, having good reasons for this difference of opinion, they are ever ready to explain and expound their opinions and to prove their correctness, or to receive proof of their incorrectness, if that can be given--hence they are called argumentative. Being unwilling to give up what appears to them to be truth, unless it can be shown to be falsehood, their opinions are not easily overturned--hence they are called obstinate. Thinking out a subject in a calm, dispa.s.sionate, logical manner, from its first proposition to its legitimate conclusion, is laborious to all. A very large cla.s.s of men and women have no patience for such a process of investigation--hence argumentation, that most n.o.ble of all mental exercises, is deemed a nuisance. Certainly argumentation with unphilosophical persons _is_ a nuisance; but I know of few earthly enjoyments more gratifying than an argument with a true philosopher."

"That's wot I says, so I do, out-an'-out," observed Bounce, who had come up unperceived, and had overheard the greater part of the above remarks.

"Jist wot I thinks myself, Mr Bertram, only I couldn't 'xactly put it in the same way, d'ye see? That's wot I calls out-an'-out feelosophy."

"Glad to hear you're such a wise fellow," said McLeod patronisingly.

"So you agree, of course, with Mr Bertram in condemning the use of the pipe."

"Condemn the pipe?" said Bounce, pulling out his own special favourite and beginning to fill it--"wot, condemn smokin'? No, by no means wotsomdiver. That's quite another kee-westion, wot we hain't bin a disputin' about. I only heer'd Mr Bertram a-talkin' about obst'nitness an' argementation."

"Well, in regard to that," said Bertram, "I firmly believe that men and women are all alike equally obstinate."

"Ha!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bounce, with that tone of mingled uncertainty and profound consideration which indicates an unwillingness to commit oneself in reference to a new and startling proposition.

"On what grounds do you think so?" asked McLeod.

"Why on the simple ground that a man _cannot_ change any opinion until he is convinced that it is wrong, and that he inevitably must, and actually does, change his opinion on the instant that he is so convinced; and that in virtue, not of his will, but of the const.i.tution of his mind. Some men's minds are of such a nature--they take such a limited and weak grasp of things--that they cannot be easily convinced.

Others are so powerful that they readily seize upon truth when it is presented to them; but in either case, the instant the point of conviction is reached the mind is changed. Pride may indeed prevent the admission of this change, but it takes place, as I have said, inevitably."

At this Bounce opened his eyes to their utmost possible width and said solemnly, "Wot! do ye mean for to tell me, then, that thair ain't no sich thing as obstinacy?" He accompanied this question with a shake of the head that implied that if Bertram were to argue till doomsday he would never convince him (Bounce) of that.

"By no means," returned the artist, smiling; "there is plenty of it, but obstinacy does not consist in the simple act of holding one's opinion firmly."

"Wot _does_ it consist of, then?"

"In this--in holding firmly to opinions that have been taken hastily up, without the grounds on which they are founded having been duly weighed; and in refusing to consider these grounds in a philosophical (which means a rational) way, because the process would prove tiresome. The man who has comfortably settled all his opinions in this way very much resembles that 'fool' of whom it is written that he 'is wiser in his own conceit than seven men who can _render a reason_.'"

"Well, but, to come back to the starting-point," said McLeod, "many wise men smoke."

"If you say that in the way of argument, I meet it with the counter proposition that many wise men _don't_ smoke."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bounce, but whether Bounce's e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n was one of approval or disapproval we cannot tell. Neither can we tell what conclusion these philosophers came to in regard to smoking, because, just then, two hors.e.m.e.n were seen approaching the fort at full speed.

Seeing that they were alone, McLeod took no precautions to prevent surprise. He knew well enough that Indians frequently approach in this manner, so waited in front of the gate, coolly smoking his pipe, until the savages were within a few yards of him. It seemed as if they purposed running him down, but just as they came to within a couple of bounds of him, they drew up so violently as to throw their foaming steeds on their haunches.

Leaping to the ground, the Indians--who were a couple of strong, fine-looking savages, dressed in leathern costume, with the usual ornaments of bead and quill work, tags, and scalp-locks--came forward and spoke a few words to McLeod in the Cree language, and immediately after, delivering their horses to the care of one of the men of the establishment, accompanied him to the store.

In less than half an hour they returned to the gate, when the Indians remounted, and, starting away at their favourite pace--full gallop--were soon out of sight.

"Them fellows seem to be in a hurry," remarked Bounce as they disappeared.

"Ay, they're after mischief too," replied McLeod in a sad tone of voice.

"They are two Cree chiefs who have come here for a supply of ammunition to hunt the buffalo, but I know they mean to hunt different game, for I heard them talking to each other about a war-party of Blood Indians being in this part of the country. Depend upon it scalps will be taken ere long. 'Tis a sad, sad state of things. Blood, blood, blood seems to be the universal cry here; and, now that we've had so many quarrels with the redskins, I fear that the day is not far-distant when blood will flow even in the Mountain Fort. I see no prospect of a better state of things, for savage nature cannot be changed. It seems a hopeless case."

There was a touch of pathos in the tone in which this was said that was very different from McLeod's usual bold and reckless manner. It was evident that his natural disposition was kind, hearty, and peaceable; but that the constant feuds in which he was involved, both in the fort and out of it, had soured his temper and rendered him wellnigh desperate.

"You are wrong, sir, in saying that their case is hopeless," said Bertram earnestly. "There is a remedy."

"I wish you could show it me," replied the trader.

"Here it is," returned the artist, taking his little Testament from the inside pocket of his hunting-s.h.i.+rt. "The gospel is able to make all men wise unto salvation."

McLeod shook his head, and said, "It won't do here. To be plain with you, sir, I don't believe the gospel's of any use in these wild regions, where murder seems to be as natural to man, woman, and child as food."

"But, sir," rejoined Bertram, "you forget that our Saviour Himself says that He came not to call the righteous but _sinners_ to repentance. In this volume we are told that the blood of Christ cleanseth us from _all_ sin; and, not only have we His a.s.surance that none who come unto Him shall be cast out, but we have examples in all parts of the known world of men and women who were once steeped to the lips in every species of gross iniquity having been turned to the service of G.o.d through faith in Christ, and that by the power of the Holy Spirit, who, in this Word of G.o.d, is promised freely to them that simply ask."

"It may be so," returned McLeod; "I have not studied these things much.

I don't profess to be a very religious man, and I cannot pretend to know much of what the gospel has done elsewhere; but I feel quite sure that it cannot do much _here_!"

"Then you do not believe the Bible, which says distinctly that this 'gospel is the power of G.o.d unto salvation to _every one_ that believeth.'"

"Ay, but these wretched Indians won't believe," objected the trader.

"True," answered Bertram; "they have not faith by nature, and they _won't_ because they _can't_ believe; but faith is the gift of G.o.d, and it is to be had for the asking."

"To that I answer that they'll never ask."

"How do you know? Did you ever give them a trial? Did you ever preach the gospel to them?"

"No, I never did that."

"Then you cannot tell how they would treat it. Your remarks are mere a.s.sertions of opinion--not arguments. You know the wickedness of the Indians, and can therefore speak authoritatively on that point; but you know not (according to your own admission) the power of the gospel: therefore you are not in a position to speak on that point."

McLeod was about to reply when he was interrupted by the approach of Mr Macgregor, who had now recovered somewhat from the effects of his violent fit of pa.s.sion. Having observed during the _melee_ that strangers had arrived at his fort, he had washed and converted himself into a more presentable personage, and now came forward to the group of trappers, all of whom had a.s.sembled at the gate. Addressing them in a tone of affable hospitality he said--

"Good-day, friends; I'm glad to see you at the Mountain Fort. That blackguard Larocque somewhat ruffled my temper. He's been the cause of much mischief here, I a.s.sure you. Do you intend to trap in these parts?"

The latter part of this speech was addressed to Redhand, who replied--

"We do mean to try our luck in these parts, but we han't yet made up our minds exactly where to go. Mayhap you'll give us the benefit of your advice."

While he was speaking the fur trader glanced with an earnest yet half stupid stare at the faces of the trappers, as if he wished to impress their features on his memory.

"Advice," he replied; "you're welcome to all the advice I've got to give ye; and it's this--go home; go to where you belong to, sell your traps and rifles and take to the plough, the hatchet, the forehammer--to anything you like, so long as it keeps you out of this--" Macgregor paused a moment as if he were about to utter an oath, then dropped his voice and said, "This wretched Indian country."