ever I could. It was my six-shootingrifle, and it didn't seem a moment ere three had bit the dust, and afourth, wounded, jumped over the ravine yonder. Well, after this it'peared to me the fight just began in real earnest. They tried to scalethe hut, and they tried to scale the trees. From both positions theycame down faster than they went up. They threw their hatchets and theythrew their spears, but, worse than all, they fired and threw theirfaggots. In that case, thinks I, it's time I brought out my reserves,so, giving them one other rattling volley, I got down as quick as feetwould take me. `Come, good dogs!' I cried; `now to give them fits!'Gentlemen, I was about as "mad" [a Yankeeism signifying angry] as ever Iwas in my life, and the dogs were madder, and the way I laid around mewith my club when I got out must have been fine to see; but the way thatmastiff went for them blueskins was finer. The field was all our own infive minutes; the garrison was unscathed, the enemy had six killed, andit must have taken the others weeks to mend their dog-holes."
"What about Plunket's prisoner?" asked Rory.
"Plunket's prisoner," said Seth, "came in very handy. It was spring,you see, and there were potatoes to plant and maize and onions to sow,and what not I tied the creature to Plunket for safety. He had plentyof rope, and when he saw I didn't mean to kill him he started and workedaway like a New Hollander. When everything was in the ground--and thattook us three weeks--I started him off with a message to Quimo, hischief, and I can tell you, gentlemen, no Yack Injun has ever drawn knifeon old Seth since."
"But," said Rory, "weren't you going to tell us about the Norwegianwalrus-hunters?"
"Oh!" said Seth, "it was like this. I heard of the shipwreck, and Iwent right away over with Plunket to see if I could be of any service.And it was well for those hunters I did. I found fires alight totorture them, and irons heating to make them skip and jump. Theblueskin chief was in high glee; he was expecting rare fun, he told me,`Well, Quimo,' says I to him, `you always was about the peskiest oldidgit ever I came across.' `How now,' says he, `great and mightyhunter?' `You're an almighty squaw,' says I; `why don't you wear a"neenak" and carry an "awwee"? Come now, Quimo, let me be master ofceremonies, I'll show you better fun than you could make.' `My whitebrother,' said Quimo, `is very wise.' `And you're an old fool,' says I.This wasn't flattery, gentlemen, I own, but old Seth knows the Indiancharacter well."
[Neenak: the short apron of sealskin the women of some tribes of YackIndians wear.]
[Awwee: baby or young one, applied to animals as well as human beings.]
"I goes straight to where the Norwegians were lying bound, and cutstheir cords. `Now,' says I to them, `you've got to dance and sing anddo all you can to please these Injuns; and, mind, you're doing it fordear life!' Gentlemen, I laugh to myself sometimes even yet when Ithink of the capers them four poor chaps cut. Old Quimo roared again,and laughed till the tears rolled down his dirty cheeks; then he vowedby the sun (the god of the Yack), that the hatchet should be buried forever between him and the white man.
"But these Norwegians stopped and settled down among the tribe, and theyhave taught them caribou sleighing and hunting the walrus with iron-shodspears, instead of the old caribou-horn toasting-forks they used to use.But come, gentlemen, old Seth would keep you talking here all day. Letus get up and be doing, for I reckon you came ashore for a bit of ashoot."
"That we did!" said McBain, "and if you'll be our guide, you shall haveas much tobacco as will last you for a year."
The tears seemed to stand in Seth's eyes with delight at the prospect."I guess," he said, "this old trapper knows where the best caribou areto be had, and so does Plunket too."
With Seth, to make up his mind was to act, and in five minutes he hadrehabilitated himself in his skins, slung on his shot-belt, andshouldered his rifle. Rory was now bemoaning his fate in not havingbrought _his_ rifle instead of a fowling-piece, but Seth soon got himover that difficulty. He strode into the wigwam, and presentlyreappeared with a very presentable weapon indeed, and soon after, intrue Indian file, they were threading their way through the forest, themastiff first and Oscar second, seeming determined to follow the leadand do whatever the other dog did. The road--or rather, I should say,their way, for path there was none--led upwards and inland, and after awalk of fully an hour they came out into a broad open plain. This theycrossed, and then wound round some hills--high enough to have beencalled mountains in England--when suddenly, on rounding a spur of one ofthese, a scene was opened out before them that my pen is powerless todescribe. They stood at the mouth of a beautiful glen, or ravine, thewhole bottom of which was a sheet of water that reflected the sky's blueand the cloudlets that floated like foam flakes above, while the loftyand rugged cliffs that surrounded the lake were green-fringed withtrees, the silvery birch and the white-flowered mountain ash showingcharmingly out against the more sombre hues of pine and firs; and aboveall were the everlasting hills, their jagged peaks white-tipped withsnow, on which the sun shone with silver radiance. Patches of colourhere and there relieved the green of the trees, for yonder was a boldbluff, covered with scarlet lichens, and closer to the water werepatches of crimson and white foxglove. Cascades, too, formed by themelting snows, could be descried here and there, and the noise they madeas they joined the lake fell upon the ear like the hum that arises froma distant city.
They stood entranced, and Rory was thinking he would rather be armedwith sketch-book than rifle, when--
"Hist!" cried Seth.
They followed his eye. On a rock right above them stood boldly outagainst the sky a tall stag; you might have counted every branch in hisantlers.
"Don't fire!" cried Seth.
It was too late. Bang went Rory's rifle, and the echoes reverberatedfrom rock to rock, fainter and more faint, till they were lost in thedistance. Down rolled the stag.
"I guess that has spoiled our day's sport," said Seth, quietly."Listen."
What is it they hear? The whole earth seems to tremble, and there is asound comes from the woods like that of far-off thunder?
"They're off," said Seth; "that was a general stampede. In half-an-hourmore we'd have had some fine skirmishing. They had been down to drinkand were resting afterwards."
Rory had to pay for his experience anyhow in a three hours' manoeuvringmarch. They did outflank the deer at last, but they were somewhat wild,and the sport was only fair.
It was nightfall ere they reached Seth's wigwam once more, and they werethoroughly tired, and glad to rest while Seth cooked the supper in a waythat only Seth could.
That night they spent in the wigwam; next day they went on board, andSeth went with them, their object being to organise a little expeditionagainst the caribou. McBain meant to make a week's stay here toreplenish his larder fore and aft, ere they tripped anchor and made sailfor wilder regions to the westward and north.
You may be sure Rory did not forget his sketch-book, nor a light canoehe had which one man could carry on his back.
They had a week of such glorious sport, both in fishing and shooting,that when the last evening came round both Ralph and Rory averred thatthey would like to stay among these wooded hills for ever.
"I guess," said Seth, "you'd get tired of it."
"_Do_ you ever tire of it?" asked McBain, and he asked the question witha purpose.
"There are times," said Seth, looking into the log fire around whichthey sat, and giving a kind of sigh, "when I think that a little changewould do myself and Plunket a power of good."
"You shall have it," cried McBain, jumping up and catching the old manby the hand, "you and Plunket too. Come with us in the _Snowbird_,we'll make you as comfortable and happy as the day is long."
"If I thought I'd be of any use--" began Seth.
"Of use, man," cried McBain; "you're the handiest fellow ever I met inmy life."
"And that you'd bring me home again."
"If we don't we'll never return more ourselves," said McBain.
"Then, gentlemen," said the trapper, "I'll accept your offe
r. There!"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE OLD TRAPPER BURIES HIS VALUABLES--THE "SNOWBIRD" GOES ON HERVOYAGE--ICE--A WHALE IN SIGHT--A FALL! A FALL!--IN AT THE DEATH--THE"TREFOIL" ON FIRE.
Old Seth the trapper had a deal to do before he could accompany ourheroes on board the _Snowbird_. "For ye see, gentlemen," he explainedto them, "as soon's they find out that the Old Bear, as they somewhatirreverently nominate this child, has left his wigwam, I guess theYacks'll pretty quickly come skooting around here, to pick up