CHAPTER FOUR.
THE WINTER JOURNEY.
It was not long before our travellers had a large space cleared of snow,its floor spread with pine-branches, a roaring fire kindled, a couple ofptarmigan roasting and the tea-kettle bubbling, while the dogs in thebackground solaced themselves with raw birds to their heart's content.
Then the red-man and the white man smoked a friendly pipe. They wouldprobably have smoked even if it had been an unfriendly pipe!
"I wonder," said Macnab, who was apt to become speculative andphilosophical over his pipe after supper, "I wonder if dogs ever envy usour pipes? You look so comfortable, Big Otter, as you sit there withhalf-shut eyes letting the smoke trickle from your mouth and nose, thatI can't help thinking they must feel envious. I'm sure that I should ifI were not smoking!"
The Indian, who was neither a speculator nor a philosopher--thoughsolemn enough for either or both--replied, "Waugh!"
"Very true," returned the Highlander, "I have no doubt your opinion isquite correct, though not as clearly put as might be wished. Have youever been at Fort Dunregan?"
"Once when Big Otter was a little boy, he stood beside the Great River,"answered the Indian, gravely; "but the white man had no tent there atthat time."
"The white man has got some pretty big tents there now--made of woodmost of 'em," returned Macnab. "In a few days you shall judge foryourself, if all goes well."
The red-man smoked over this remark in silence for a considerable time,evidently engaged in profound thought. He was one of those children ofnature whose brains admit ideas slowly, and who, when they are admitted,turn them round and round and inside out without much apparentadvantage.
At last he looked earnestly at his companion and asked--"Is therefire-water at Fort Dunregan?"
"Well, no--I believe not. At least there is none for red-men. Why doyou ask? Did you ever taste fire-water?"
The Indian's dark eyes seem to gleam with unwonted light as he repliedin tones more solemn than usual:--
"Yes. Once--only once--a white brother gave some fire-water to BigOtter."
"Humph!" ejaculated Macnab, "and what did you think of it!"
"Waugh!" exclaimed the red-man, sending a cloud out of his mouth withsuch energy that it seemed like a little cannon-shot, while he glared athis friend like a superannuated owl. "Big Otter thought that he was inthe happy hunting-grounds with his fathers; his heart was so light andhis limbs were so strong, but that was only a dream--he was still inthis world. Then he took a little more fire-water, and the dream becamea reality! He was away with his fathers on the shining plains; hechased the deer with the lightness of a boy and the strength of a bear.He fought, and his foes fell before his strong arm like snowflakes onthe river, but he scalped them not. He could not find them--they weregone. Big Otter was so strong that he had knocked both their lives andbodies into the unknown! He saw his father and his mother--and--hiswife and the little one who--died. But he could not speak to them, forthe foes came back again, and he fought and took some more fire-water tomake him fight better; then the world went on fire, the stars came downfrom the sky like snow when the wind is high. The Big Otter flew upinto the air, and then--forgot--"
"Forgot what?" asked Macnab, much interested in his red friend's idea ofintoxication.
"Forgot everything," replied the Indian, with a look of solemnperplexity.
"Well, I don't wonder; you must have had a good swig, apparently. Howdid ye feel next morning?"
If the Indian's looks were serious before, they became indescribablysolemn now.
"Big Otter felt," he replied with bated breath, "like bags of shot--heavy like the great stones. He could scarcely move; all his jointswere stiff. Food was no longer pleasant to his tongue. When he triedto swallow, it would not remain, but came forth again. He felt a wishto drink up the river. His head had an evil spirit inside whichsqueezed the brain and tried to burst open the skull. His eyes, also,were swelled up so that he could hardly see, and his nose was two timesmore big than the day before."
"That must have been an awful size, Big Otter, considering the size ofit by nature! And what d'ye think was the cause of it all?"
As this question involved thought, the Indian smoked his pipe in silencefor some time, staring for inspiration into the fire.
"It must have been," he at length replied, "hunting with his fathersbefore the right time had come. Big Otter was not dead, and he chasedthe deer too much, perhaps, or fought too much. It may be that, havingonly his earth-body, he ate too much."
"Don't ye think it's just possible," suggested Macnab, "that, havingonly your earth-body, you _drank_ too much?"
"Waugh!" replied the red-man. Then, after a few minutes' devotion tothe pipe, he added, "Big Otter would like very much to taste thefire-water again."
"It's well for you, my boy," returned the other, "that you can't get itin these regions, for if you could you'd soon be in the happyhunting-grounds (or the other place) without your earth-body."
At this point the Highlander became more earnest, and treated hiscompanion to what would have passed in civilised lands for a fairtemperance lecture, in which he sought to describe graphically the evilsof strong drink. To this the Indian listened with the most intenseattention and an owlish expression, making no audible comment whatever--with the exception, now and then, of an emphatic "Waugh!" but indicatinghis interest by the working of his features and the glittering of hisgreat eyes. Whether the reasoning of Macnab had much influence at thattime could not be ascertained, for he was yet in the middle of one ofhis most graphic anecdotes when the Indian's owlish eyes shut with asuddenness that was quite startling, and he roused himself just in timeto prevent his chin from dropping on his chest.
"Waugh!" he exclaimed with a slightly-confused look.
"Just so," replied Macnab with a laugh, "and now, boy, we'll turn in,for it strikes me we're going to have warmish weather, and if so, weshall have to make the most of our time."
Soon the blankets were spread; the fire was replenished with mightylogs; the travellers lay down side by side and in a few minutes snoredin concert; the flames leaped upwards, and the sparks, entanglingthemselves on the snow-encrusted branches of bush and tree, gleamedthere for an instant, or, escaping, flew gaily away into the wintry sky.
While the two men were sleeping, a change came over the scene--a slow,gentle, scarce perceptible change, which, however, had a powerfulinfluence on the prospects of the sleepers. The sky became overcast;the temperature, which had been down at arctic depth for many months,suddenly rose to that of temperate climes, and snow began to fall--notin the small sharp particles to which the fur-traders of the greatnorthern wilderness are accustomed, but in the broad, heavy flakes thatone often sees in England. Softly, silently, gently they fell, like thedescent of a sweet influence--but steadily, persistently, continuously,until every object in nature became smothered in the soft white garment.Among other objects the two sleepers were buried.
The snow began by powdering them over. Had any one been there toobserve the process, he would have seen by the bright light of thecamp-fire that the green blankets in which they were wrapt becamepiebald first; then assumed a greyish-green colour, which speedilychanged into a greenish-grey, and finally into a pure white. The twosleepers might thus have represented those figures in chiselled marbleon the tombs of crusaders, had it not been that they lay doubled up, forwarmth--perhaps also for comfort--with their knees at their chins,instead of flat on their backs with their hands pressed together. Bydegrees the correct outline of their forms became an incorrect outline,and gradually more and more rotund--suggesting the idea that the buriedones were fat.
As the night wore on the snow accumulated on them until it lay severalinches deep. Still they moved not. Strong, tired and healthy men arenot easily moved. The fire of course sank by degrees until it reachedthat point where it failed to melt the snow; then it was quicklysmothered out and covered over. The entire camp was also buried;
thetin kettle being capped with a knob peculiarly its own, and thesnow-shoes and other implements having each their appropriate outline,while some hundredweights, if not tons, of the white drapery gathered onthe branches overhead. It was altogether an overwhelming state ofthings, and the only evidence of life in all the scene was the littlehole in front of each slumberer's nose, out of which issued intermittentpufflets of white vapour.
So the night passed by and the morning dawned, and the wintry sun aroselike a red-hot cannon ball. Then Macnab awoke with a start and sat upwith an effort.
"Hallo!" was his first exclamation, as he tried to clear his eyes, thenhe muttered something in Gaelic which, being incomprehensible, I cannottranslate, although the worthy man has many a time, since the day ofwhich I write, tried to explain it to me!
It may have been his action, or it may have been indignant northernfairies, I know not, but certain it is that the Gaelic was instantlyfollowed by an avalanche of snow from the branch over the Highlander'shead, which knocked him down and reburied him. It also knocked BigOtter up and drew forth the inevitable "Waugh!"
"Humph!" said Macnab, on clearing himself a second time, "I was halfafraid of this. We've got our work cut out for us."
The Indian replied not, but proceeded to light the fire and preparebreakfast, while his companion cleared the camp of some of its snow.The wolfish dogs took a lively interest in these proceedings, but lentno assistance beyond wagging their tails, either in approval or inanticipation of breakfast.
Of course breakfast was a repetition of the previous supper, and wassoon disposed of both by men and dogs. Then the latter were harnessedto their sledge, the snow-shoes were put on, and the journey wasresumed--Macnab manfully leading the way.
And let not the reader imagine that this leadership involved little orno manhood. Northern snow-shoes are about five feet long, and twelve orfifteen inches broad. The netting with which the frames are filled up--somewhat like the bottom of a cane chair--allows fine well-frozen snowto fall through it like dust and the traveller, sinking it may be only afew inches in old well-settled-down snow, progresses with ease. Butwhen a heavy fall such as I have described takes place, especially inspring, and the weather grows comparatively warm, the traveller'scircumstances change greatly for the worse. The new snow being lightpermits him to sink deep into it--perhaps eight or ten inches--at everystep; being also soft, that which falls upon the shoes cannot passthrough the netting, but sticks there, giving him many extra poundsweight to lift as he goes heavily along. Add to this that his thickwinter garb becomes oppressive in mild weather, and you will perceivethat Macnab's duties as beater of the track were severe.
At first their progress was very slow, for it was through the thickwoods, where fallen trees and bushes obstructed them as well as deepsnow, but towards noon they came out on a more open country--in summer aswamp; at that time a frozen plain--and the travelling improved, for aslight breeze had already begun to make an impression on the new snow inexposed places.
"Now, Big Otter," said Macnab, coming to a halt, "we'll have some grubhere, and then you will take a turn in front."
The Indian was ready for anything. So were the dogs--especially for"grub." Indeed it was obvious that they understood the meaning of thatword, for when Macnab uttered it they wagged their tails and cockedtheir ears.
It was a cold dinner, if I may describe the meal by that name. The workwas too hard, and the daylight in which to do it too brief, to admit ofneedless delay. A frozen bird thrown to each of the dogs, and a junk ofequally frozen pemmican cut out of the bag with a hatchet for thetravellers, formed the repast. The latter ate it sitting on asnow-wreath. They, however, had the advantage of their canine friendsin the matter of hard biscuits, of which they each consumed two as asort of cold pudding. Then they resumed the march and plodded heavilyon till near sunset, when they again selected a suitable spot in thewoods, cleared away the snow, and encamped as before.
"It's hard work," exclaimed Macnab with a Celtic sigh, as he sipped histea that night in the mellow light of the log fire.
"Waugh! Big Otter has seen harder work," returned the Indian.
"No doubt ye have, an' so have I," returned Macnab; "I mind, once, whenaway on a snow-shoe trip on the St. Lawrence gulf, bein' caught by aregular thaw when the snow turned into slush, an' liftin' the snow-shoeswas like to tear one's legs out o' their sockets, not to mention theskinning of your toes wi' the snow-shoe lines, an' the wet turning yourmoccasins into something like tripe. Yes, it might be worse, as yousay. Now, boy, I'll turn in."
The next day travelling was no better, and on the next again it becameworse, for although the temperature was still below the freezing point,snow continued to fall all day as well as all night, so that ourtravellers and their dogs became like animated snowballs, and beatingthe track became an exhausting labour.
But difficulties cannot finally stop, though they may retard, a"Nor'-wester." On the sixth day, however, they met with a foe who hadpower to lay a temporary check on their advance. On the night of thefifth day out, another change of temperature took place. A thermometer,had they carried one, would probably have registered from ten to twentybelow zero of Fahrenheit. This, however, was so familiar to them thatthey rather liked the change, and heaped up fresh logs on the roaringfire to counteract the cold; but when a breeze sprang up and began toblow hard, they did not enjoy it so much, and when the breeze increasedto a gale, it became serious; for one cannot face intense cold during agale without the risk of being frost-bitten. In the shelter of thewoods it was all right, but when, towards noon, they came out on anextended plain where the wild winds were whirling the wilder snow inblinding drifts, they halted and looked inquiringly at each other.
"Shall we try it?" asked Macnab.
The Indian shook his head and looked solemn.
"It's a pity to give in without--"
A snow-drift caught the Highlander full in the mouth and literally shuthim up! The effect was not to subdue, but to arouse.
"Yes," he said in a species of calm ferocity, when the gale allowed himthe power of utterance, "we'll go on."
He went on, followed by the obedient native and the unhappy dogs, but hehad not taken half a dozen steps when he tripped over a concealed rockand broke a snow-shoe. To walk with a broken snow-shoe is impossible.To repair one is somewhat difficult and takes time. They werecompelled, therefore, to re-enter the sheltering woods and encamp.
"You're better at mending than I am," said Macnab to the Indian. "Setto work on the shoe when the camp is dug out, an' I'll go cut somefirewood."
Cutting firewood is not only laborious, but attended with danger, andthat day ill-fortune seemed to have beset the Highlander; for he hadbarely cut half a dozen logs, when his axe glanced off a knot and struckdeep into the calf of his left leg.
A shout brought Big Otter to his side. The Indian was well used to suchaccidents. He bound up the wound securely, and carried his comrade intocamp on his back. But now Macnab was helpless. He not only could notwalk, but there was no hope of his being able to do so for weeks tocome.
"Lucky for us we brought the dogs," he remarked when the operation wascompleted.
"Waugh!" exclaimed the Indian by way of assent, while he busied himselfin preparing food.
It was indeed lucky, for if they had dragged the provision-sledthemselves, as Macnab had once thought of doing, it would have fallen toBig Otter's lot to haul his comrade during the remainder of the journey.As it was, the dogs did it, and in the doing of it, despite thered-man's anxious and constant care, many a severe shake, and bump, andcapsize in the snow did the unfortunate man receive before that journeycame to a close. He bore it all, however, with the quiet stoicismcharacteristic of the race from which he sprang.