Snowflakes and Sunbeams Part 34

"Don't hurry, and strike sure," cried Jacques to his young friends, as they came up with the terrified deer that now swam for their lives.

"Ay, ay," was the reply.

In another moment they shot in among the struggling group. Harry Somerville stood up, and seizing the Indian's spear, prepared to strike, while his companions directed their course towards others of the herd. A few seconds sufficed to bring him up with it. Leaning backwards a little, so as to give additional force to the blow, he struck the spear deep into the animal's back. With a convulsive struggle, it ceased to swim, its head slowly sank, and in another second it lay dead upon the water. "Without waiting a moment, the Indian immediately directed the canoe towards another deer; while the remainder of the party, now considerably separated from each other, despatched the whole herd by means of axes and knives.

"Ha!" exclaimed Jacques, as they towed their booty to the sh.o.r.e, "that's a good stock o' meat, Mister Charles. It will help to furnish the larder for the winter pretty well."

"It was much wanted, Jacques: we've a good many mouths to feed, besides _treating_ the Indians now and then. And this fellow, I think, will claim the most of our hunt as his own. We should not have got the deer but for him."

"True, true, Mister Charles. They belong to the red-skin by rights, that's sartin."

After this exploit, another night was pa.s.sed under the trees; and at noon on the day following they ran their canoe alongside the wooden wharf at Stoney Creek.

"Good-day to you, gentlemen," said Mr. Whyte to Harry and Hamilton as they landed; "I've been looking out for you these two weeks past. Glad you've come at last, however. Plenty to do, and no time to lose. You have despatches, of course. Ah! that's right." (Harry drew a sealed packet from his bosom and presented it with a bow), "that's right. I must peruse these at once.--Mr. Kennedy, you will show these gentlemen their quarters. We dine in half-an-hour." So saying, Mr. Whyte thrust the packet into his pocket, and without further remark strode towards his dwelling; while Charley, as instructed, led his friends to their new residence--not forgetting, however, to charge Redfeather to see to the comfortable lodgment of Jacques Caradoc.

"Now it strikes me," remarked Harry, as he sat down on the edge of Charley's bed and thrust his hands doggedly down into his pockets, while Hamilton tucked up his sleeves and a.s.saulted a washhand-basin which stood on an unpainted wooden chair in a corner--"it strikes me that if _that's_ his usual style of behaviour, old Whyte is a pleasure that we didn't antic.i.p.ate."

"Don't judge from first impressions; they're often deceptive,"

spluttered Hamilton, pausing in his ablutions to look at his friend through a ma.s.s of soap-suds--an act which afterwards caused him a good deal of pain and a copious flow of unbidden tears.

"Right," exclaimed Charley, with an approving nod to Hamilton.--"You must not judge him prematurely, Harry. He's a good-hearted fellow at bottom; and if he once takes a liking for you, he'll go through fire and water to serve you, as I know from experience."

"Which means to say _three_ things," replied the implacable Harry: "first, that for all his good-heartedness _at bottom,_ he never shows any of it _at top,_ and is therefore like unto truth, which is said to lie at the bottom of a well--so deep, in fact, that it is never got out, and so is of use to n.o.body; secondly, that he is possessed of that amount of affection which is common to all mankind (to a great extent even to brutes), which prompts a man to be reasonably attentive to his friends; and thirdly, that you, Master Kennedy, enjoy the peculiar privilege of being the friend of a two-legged polar bear!"

"Were I not certain that you jest," retorted Kennedy, "I would compel you to apologize to me for insulting my friend, you rascal! But see, here's the cook coming to tell us that dinner waits. If you don't wish to see the teeth of the polar bear, I'd advise you to be smart."

Thus admonished, Harry sprang up, plunged his hands and face in the basin and dried them, broke Charley's comb in attempting to pa.s.s it hastily through his hair, used his fingers savagely as a subst.i.tute, and overtook his companions just as they entered the mess-room.

The establishment of Stoney Creek was comprised within two acres of ground. It consisted of eight or nine houses--three of which, however, alone met the eye on approaching by the lake. The "great" house, as it was termed, on account of its relative proportion to the other buildings, was a small edifice, built substantially but roughly of unsquared logs, partially whitewashed, roofed with s.h.i.+ngles, and boasting six small windows in front, with a large door between them. On its east side, and at right angles to it, was a similar edifice, but smaller, having two doors instead of one, and four windows instead of six. This was the trading-shop and provision-store. Opposite to this was a twin building which contained the furs and a variety of miscellaneous stores. Thus were formed three sides of a square, from the centre of which rose a tall flagstaff. The buildings behind those just described were smaller and insignificant--the princ.i.p.al one being the house appropriated to the men; the others were mere sheds and workshops. Luxuriant forests ascended the slopes that rose behind and encircled this oasis on all sides, excepting in front, where the clear waters of the lake sparkled like a blue mirror.

On the margin of this lake the new arrivals, left to enjoy themselves as they best might for a day or two, sauntered about and chatted to their heart's content of things past, present, and future.

During these wanderings, Harry confessed that his opinion of Mr. Whyte had somewhat changed; that he believed a good deal of the first bad impressions was attributable to his cool, not to say impolite, reception of them; and that he thought things would go on much better with the Indians if he would only try to let some of his good qualities be seen through his exterior.

An expression of sadness pa.s.sed over Charley's face as his friend said this.

"You are right in the last particular," he said, with a sigh. "Mr.

Whyte is so rough and overbearing that the Indians are beginning to dislike him. Some of the more clear-sighted among them see that a good deal of this lies in mere manner, and have penetration enough to observe that in all his dealings with them he is straightforward and liberal; but there are a set of them who either don't see this, or are so indignant at the rough speeches he often makes, and the rough treatment he sometimes threatens, that they won't forgive him, but seem to be nursing their wrath. I sometimes wish he was sent to a district where the Indians and traders are, from habitual intercourse, more accustomed to each other's ways, and so less likely to quarrel."

"Have the Indians, then, used any open threats?" asked Harry.

"No, not exactly; but through an old man of the tribe, who is well affected towards us, I have learned that there is a party among them who seem bent on mischief."

"Then we may expect a row some day or other. That's pleasant!--What think you, Hammy?" said Harry, turning to his friend.

"I think that it would be anything but pleasant," he replied; "and I sincerely hope that we shall not have occasion for a row."

"You're not afraid of a fight, are you, Hamilton?" asked Charley.

The peculiarly bland smile with which Hamilton usually received any remark that savoured of banter overspread his features as Charley spoke, but he merely replied--

"No, Charley, I'm not afraid."

"Do you know any of the Indians who are so anxious to vent their spleen on our worthy bourgeois?" asked Harry, as he seated himself on a rocky eminence commanding a view of the richly-wooded slopes, dotted with huge ma.s.ses of rock that had fallen from the beetling cliffs behind the creek.

"Yes, I do," replied Charley; "and, by the way, one of them--the ringleader--is a man with whom you are acquainted, at least by name.

You've heard of an Indian called Misconna?"

"What!" exclaimed Harry, with a look of surprise; "you don't mean the blackguard mentioned by Redfeather, long ago, when he told us his story on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Winnipeg--the man who killed poor Jacques's young wife?"

"The same," replied Charley.

"And does Jacques know he is here?"

"He does; but Jacques is a strange, unaccountable mortal. You remember that in the struggle described by Redfeather, the trapper and Misconna had neither of them seen each other, Redfeather having felled the latter before the former reached the scene of action--a scene which, he has since told me, he witnessed at a distance, while rus.h.i.+ng to the rescue of his wife-so that Misconna is utterly ignorant of the fact that the husband of his victim is now so near him; indeed, he does not know that she had a husband at all. On the other hand, although Jacques is aware that his bitterest enemy is within rifle-range of him at this moment, he does not know him by sight; and this morning he came to me, begging that I would send Misconna on some expedition or other, just to keep him out of his way."

"And do you intend to do so?"

"I shall do my best," replied Charley; "but I cannot get him out of the way till to-morrow, as there is to be a gathering of Indians in the hall this very day, to have a palaver with Mr. Whyte about their grievances, and Misconna wouldn't miss that for a trifle. But Jacques won't be likely to recognise him among so many; and if he does, I rely with confidence on his powers of restraint and forbearance. By the way," he continued, glancing upwards, "it is past noon, and the Indians will have begun to a.s.semble, so we had better hasten back, as we shall be expected to help in keeping order."

So saying, he rose, and the young men returned to the fort. On reaching it they found the hall crowded with natives, who sat cross-legged around the walls, or stood in groups conversing in low tones, and to judge from the expression of their dark eyes and lowering brows, they were in extremely bad humour. They became silent and more respectful, however, in their demeanour when the young men entered the apartment and walked up to the fireplace, in which a small fire of wood burned on the hearth, more as a convenient means of rekindling the pipes of the Indians when they went out than as a means of heating the place.

Jacques and Redfeather stood leaning against the wall near to it, engaged in a whispered conversation. Glancing round as he entered, Charley observed Misconna sitting a little apart by himself, and apparently buried in deep thought. He had scarcely perceived him, and nodded to several of his particular friends among the crowd, when a side-door opened, and Mr. Whyte, with an angry expression on his countenance, strode up to the fireplace, planted himself before it, with his legs apart and his hands behind him, while he silently surveyed the group.

"So," he began, "you have asked to speak with me; well, here I am. What have you to say?"

Mr. Whyte addressed the Indians in their native tongue, having, during a long residence in the country, learned to speak it as fluently as English.

For some moments there was silence. Then an old chief--the same who had officiated at the feast described in a former chapter--rose, and standing forth into the middle of the room, made a long and grave oration, in which, besides a great deal that was bombastic, much that was irrelevant, and more that was utterly fabulous and nonsensical, he recounted the sorrows of himself and his tribe, concluding with a request that the great chief would take these things into consideration--the princ.i.p.al _"things"_ being that they did not get anything in the shape of gratuities, while it was notorious that the Indians in other districts did, and that they did not get enough of goods in advance, on credit of their future hunts.

Mr. Whyte heard the old man to the end in silence: then, without altering his position, he looked round on the a.s.sembly with a frown, and said, "Now listen to me; I am a man of few words. I have told you over and over again, and I now repeat it, that you shall get no gratuities until you prove yourselves worthy of them. I shall not increase your advances by so much as half an inch of tobacco till your last year's debts are scored off, and you begin to show more activity in hunting and less disposition to grumble. Hitherto you have not brought in anything like the quant.i.ty of furs that the capabilities of the country led me to expect. You are lazy. Until you become better hunters you shall have no redress from me."

As he finished, Mr. Whyte made a step towards the door by which he had entered, but was arrested by another chief, who requested to be heard.

Resuming his place and att.i.tude, Mr. Whyte listened with an expression of dogged determination, while guttural grunts of unequivocal dissatisfaction issued from the throats of several of the malcontents.

The Indian proceeded to repeat a few of the remarks made by his predecessor, but more concisely, and wound up by explaining that the failure in the hunts of the previous year was owing to the will of the Great Manito, and not by any means on account of the supposed laziness of himself or his tribe.

"That is false," said Mr. Whyte; "you know it is not true."

As this was said, a murmur of anger ran round the apartment, which was interrupted by Misconna, who, apparently unable to restrain his pa.s.sion, sprang into the middle of the room, and confronting Mr. Whyte, made a short and pithy speech, accompanied by violent gesticulation, in which he insinuated that if redress was not granted the white men would bitterly repent it.

During his speech the Indians had risen to their feet and drawn closer together, while Jacques and the three young men drew near their superior. Redfeather remained apart, motionless, and with his eyes fixed on the ground.

"And, pray, what dog--what miserable thieving cur are you, who dare to address me thus?" cried Mr. Whyte, as he strode, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, up to the enraged Indian.

Misconna clinched his teeth, and his fingers worked convulsively about the handle of his knife, as he exclaimed, "I am no dog. The pale-faces are dogs. I am a great chief. My name is known among the braves of my tribe. It is Misconna--"

As the name fell from his lips, Mr. Wiryte and Charley were suddenly dashed aside, and Jacques sprang towards the Indian, his face livid, his eyeb.a.l.l.s almost bursting from their sockets, and his muscles rigid with pa.s.sion. For an instant he regarded the savage intently as he shrank appalled before him; then his colossal fist fell like lightning, with the weight of a sledge-hammer, on Misconna's forehead, and drove him against the outer door, which, giving way before the violent shock, burst from its fastenings and hinges, and fell, along with the savage, with a loud crash to the ground.

For an instant everyone stood aghast at this precipitate termination to the discussion, and then, springing forward in a body, with drawn knives, the Indians rushed upon the white men, who in a close phalanx, with such weapons as came first to hand, stood to receive them. At this moment Redfeather stepped forward unarmed between the belligerents, and, turning to the Indians, said--