CHAPTER II
INTO THE WILDERNESS
Emerson was the gateway of the great invasion. Situated just on theCanadian side of the International Boundary, the "farthest west" ofrail communication, on the threshold of the prairie country, itseemed the strategical point for the great city which must arise withthe settlement and development of the fertile kingdom of territorylying between the Lake of the Woods and the Rocky Mountains, andbetween the Forty-ninth Parallel and the unknown northern limit ofagriculture. Sixty miles northward, at the junction of the Red andAssiniboine Rivers, Winnipeg was throwing street-tendrils out fromher main traffic trunk which marked the route the Indian carts hadfollowed for years as they bore their buffalo hides and pemmican tothe Hudson's Bay Company's post at Fort Garry. Winnipeg was to be onthe main line of the Canadian Pacific Railway--at least, so thepromoters of its town-lot activity affirmed; but Selkirk, stillfarther north, was already flourishing in the assurance that therailway would cross the river at that point. But the Canadian PacificRailway as yet existed upon paper; its advance guard were pouringnitro-glycerine into the rocks of the wild Lake Superior fastnesses,and a little band of resolute men were risking financial disaster anindomitable effort to drive through a project which had dismayed eventhe Government of Canada. Some there were who said the CanadianPacific would never be built, many there were who said that if builtit always be a charge upon the country--that in the very nature ofthings it could never become self-supporting.
So while Winnipeg and Selkirk indulged their visions Emerson wasalready enjoying to the full the prosperity which accompanied theinrush of settlers. Although the immigrants were not wealthy as theterm is now understood even in an agricultural community, most ofthem had enough money to pay for their outfitting and place them ontheir homesteads for operations. Accommodation in Emerson was at apremium; hotel space was out of the question, and even the barestrooms commanded mining-camp prices. Those commodities which thesettler must needs have had taken their cue from hotel prices, andwere quoted at figures that provoked much thoughtful head-scratchingon the part of the thrifty and somewhat close-fisted new arrivalsfrom the East.
Harris left his wife with a company of other women in the Governmentimmigration building while he set out to find, if possible, lodgingswhere she might live until he was ready to take her to the homesteadcountry. He must first make a trip of exploration himself, and asthis might require several weeks his present consideration was toplace her in proper surroundings before he left. He soon found thatall the hotels were full, and had they not been full the pricesdemanded were so exorbitant as to be beyond his reach; and even hadit been otherwise he would have asked her to share the hardships ofthe exploration trip rather than leave her amid associations whichwere all too apparent in the hotel section of the town. The parasitesand camp-followers of society, attracted by the easy money that mightbe wrung in devious ways from the inflowing tide of farmers, werealready represented in force, and flaunted brazenly the seamy side ofthe civilization which was advancing into the New West.
Turning to parts of the town which were less openly engaged inbusiness, legitimate, questionable, or beyond question, Harrisinquired at many doors for lodgings for himself and wife, or for hiswife alone. The response ranged from curt announcements that theinmates "ain't takin' boarders" to sympathetic assurances that if itwere possible to find room for another it would be done, but thehouse was already crowded to suffocation. Great lines of washing inthe back yards, and groups dirty children splashing in the springmud, bore testimony to the congestion. The March sun was beating downwith astonishing fierceness and the unside-walked streets were awelter of slush. In two hours Harris, notwithstanding his stout frameand his young enthusiasm, dragged himself somewhat disconsolatelyback to the immigration building with the information that his searchhad been fruitless.
At the door he met Tom Morrison and another, whom he recognized asthe teller of Indian stories which had captivated the children of hiscar. Morrison was a man of forty, with a dash of grey in his hair anda kindly twinkle in his shrewd eyes; his companion was A bigger man,of about the same age, whose weather-beaten face bore testimony tothe years already spent in pioneer life on the prairie.
"And what luck have ye had?" asked Morrison, seizing the young man bythe arm. "Little, I'll be thinkin', by the smile ye're forcin' up.But what am I thinkin' of? Mr. McCrae is from 'way out in the WakopaCounty, and an old-timer on the prairie. He knows every corner in thetown, I'm thinkin'--"
"Aleck McCrae," said the big man. "We leave our 'misters' east of theGreat Lakes. An' Ah'm not from Wakopa, unless you give that name toall the country from Pembina Crossing to Turtle Mountain. Ah'm doingbusiness all through there, an' no more partial to one place thananother."
"What is your line of business, Mr. McCrae?" asked Harris.
"Aleck, I said, an' Aleck it is."
"All right," said the other, laughing. "What is your business,Aleck?"
"My business is assisting settlers to get located on suitable land,an' ekeing out my own living by the process. There's a strip ofcountry in there, fifty miles long by twenty miles wide, that Ah knowlike you knew your own farm down East. It cost me something to learnit, an' Ah sell the information for part of what it cost. Perhaps Ahcan do something for you later, along professional lines. Just now,as Tom here tells me, you're hunting a house for the wife. Ah knowEmerson too well to suppose you have found one."
"I haven't, for a fact," said Harris, reminded of the urgency of hismission. "I've tramped more mud this morning than would make a goodfarm in Ontario, but mud is all I got for my trouble."
"It's out of the question," said McCrae. "Besides, it's not sonecessary as you think. What with the bad time our train made, an'the good time the stock-train made, an' the fact that they startedahead of us, they're in the yards now. That's a piece of luck, tostart with. 'S nothing unusual for settlers to be held Up here twoan' three weeks waiting for their freight, an' all the time billspiling up an' the cash running down in a way that knocks holes intheir pockets."
"But I can't put my wife in a stock-car!" protested Harris.
"There's worse places," McCrae answered, calmly worrying aconsiderable section from a plug of black chewing tobacco. "Worseplaces, Ah should say. Ah've seen times when a good warm stock-carwould have passed for heaven. But that ain't what Ah have in mind.We'll all turn in an' get the stock unloaded, hitch up horses, pack aload, an' get away. Morrison's hired man'll drive his team, an'Tom'll stay here himself an' look after the rest of the stuff. Ah'vebeen making a canvass, an' Ah find we have six or seven families whocan be ready to pull out this afternoon. An soon as we get intosettled country, perhaps we can get accommodation, such as it is,along the way. But my team will go along, with a good tent an' somecooking outfit. Everyone has bedding, so we're all right for that.Now, if all hustle we can be started by four o'clock, an' out ten ortwelve miles before we pitch camp. That's far enough for the horsesthe first day, anyway. How does it suit you?"
"What do you say, Mr. Morrison?"
"I think Aleck's plan is best. I've my wife and the two girls, andthere's no roof for their heads here. I can find a place for myself,but I've got to get them started. Ned is a trusty man; he will drivemy team. It suits me."
"But after we get there?" said Harris, "For my part, I don't knowwhere I'm going. Even with Aleck's help it will take some time tolook up my land and build a place to live in. Mind you," he said, asif forestalling a question in their minds, "I'm mightily obliged forthe kindness of your offer, and it isn't myself I'm thinking about."
"Hoots, man!" said Morrison. "We ken who you're thinkin' about, rightwell. And a poor man ye'd be if ye didn't, for a bonnier lass nevercame out of Canada, and that's saying somethin'. But she'll be allright out there, and a deal better than if you left her here. There'snot many settlers with houses in the country yet, Aleck tells me, butthere's a few, and it's wonderful the e-las-ticity of a shanty on theprairie."
"Tom's right," said McCrae. "We
haven't many of the conveniences ofcivilization out there yet, but we haven't the narrowness or viceseither, an' your wife'll be both welcome an' safe in any farmer'shome. Now, if it's all settled," continued McCrae, who had theleader's knack of suppressing indecision at the psychological moment,"we'll all turn in with unloading of the stock." Harris ran to tellhis wife that they were to join a party for "the front" that veryafternoon. She received the news joyously. Her only fear had beenthat she would be left behind during the weeks in which her husbandmade his exploration of the country.
In a few minutes all hands, both men and women, were busy at thecars. The horses, stiff and sore after their long journey, stalkedrheumatically down the gangway. Feeling solid ground beneath theirfeet, they shook their heads vigorously, as though to rid them of therumble of the cars, and presently were rolling and stretching in thewarm sun. Dogs limped with muddy paws and boisterous affection uponmasters and mistresses; cows lowed, roosters crowed, and pigs emittedlittle grunts, of that supreme happiness peculiar to their race. Manyhands made the work light, and by mid-afternoon six sleighs wereloaded for the journey. All the women and children were to go withthe party; Morrison and one or two men would remain in Emerson,complete the unloading, and take charge of the effects until theteams should return from their long journey. McCrae, on account ofhis knowledge of the town and of the needs of the journey was chosento secure the supplies. His team, which had wintered at Emerson, wasto take the lead, and in his sleigh were a large tent, some cookingequipment, and an assortment of eatables, consisting mainly of driedmeat, lard, beans, molasses, bread, flour, oatmeal, and tea. McCraeprovided his team and equipment without charge; the cost of theprovisions was reckoned up and divided among the immigrants in theirvarious proportions to the whole party.
Each settler's sleigh carried that which seemed most indispensable.First came the settler's family, which, large or small, was crowdedinto the deep box. McCrae made them pack hay in the bottom of thesleigh-boxes, and over this were laid robes and blankets, on whichthe immigrants sat, as thickly as they could be placed. More robesand blankets were laid on top, and sacks stuffed very full of hayserved the double purpose of cushioning their backs and conveyingfodder for the animals. Such space as remained was devoted to grainfor the horses, bundles of clothing and boxes of dishes, kitchenutensils, and family effects. In one of the sleighs a pig wasquartered, and in another was a crate of hens which poked their headsstupidly through the cracks, blinking at the bright light. Behind thesleighs were tethered the cattle.
Morrison came up to Harris's sleigh, and gave it an approvinginspection.
"You will all be fine," he said, "and a great deal better thanwearyin' about here. Besides, you're just as well to be away," headded, in a somewhat lower voice. "McCrae tells me if this sun keepsup the roads will be gone before we know it, and that means a delayof two or three weeks. There's been a tremendous snow this winter,and a steady thaw, what with these north-runnin' rivers, means floodson the low-lyin' lands, and perhaps in the town itself, McCrae tellsme he's none too sure about the bridge."
At this moment McCrae himself joined the group. "There's only two inyour party, Harris," he said, "an' while Ah don't want to interruptyour honeymoon, there's another passenger to be taken care of. Dr.Blain is going with us, and Ah'm going to put him in your charge.He's a bit peculiar, but Ah don't think he'll give you any trouble.It's just a case of being too much of a good fellow. One thing Ahknow--he's a doctor. Saw him last fall on a scarlet fever job.Settler's sod shack, twenty miles from nowhere. Three children down,mother down, father frantic. Well, Ah now that Blain camped rightthere in the thick of it; doctored, nursed, cooked, kep' house--dideverything. An' they're all of 'em alive an' well to-day, or werewhen last Ah saw them. So he's worth more'n a speaking acquaintance,Harris; you may know that better some day. Ah'm going up town for himnow; you can shift your stuff a little an' make room."
The whole party were ready for the road and waiting before McCraeappeared again. When he came a companion staggered somewhatuncertainly by his side.
"I'm aw'right, McCrae," he was saying. "I'm aw' right. Shay, whashthish? Shildren v Ishrul?"
"Come now, Doctor, straighten up. Ah want to introduce you."
"Introdush me? Thash right. Make me 'cquainted wish the ladish. Howjuhdo, Princhessh?" he said, stopping and gesticulating before animaginary figure. "Thish is Dr. Blain, late of--late of--wash that,McCrae? Oh, very good. I'm awl right."
Half leading and half pulling, McCrae at last brought the doctor toHarris's sleigh. "Sorry he's in this shape," he whispered. "He'lllikely go to sleep, an' be all right when he wakes up. Ah can't takehim in my sleigh, an' Ah feel sure you can handle him."
"I'll do the best I can," said Harris, though he was little pleasedwith the prospect.
"Straighten up, Doctor," said McCrae, giving him a good poke in theribs. "This is Mr. Harris, who you will travel with--Jack Harris. An'Mrs. Harris."
The doctor had glanced only casually at Harris, but at the mention ofthe woman's name he straightened up and stood alone.
"Glad to meet you, madam," he said. "And it's only proper that thepleasure should be all mine." There was a little bitterness in hisvoice that did not escape her ear.
"But indeed I am glad to meet _you_," she answered. "Mr. McCrae hasbeen telling us something of your work among the settlers. We arevery fortunate to have you with us."
He shot a keen look into her face. She returned his gaze frankly, andhe found sarcasm neither in her eyes nor her voice.
"Help me in, McCrae," he said. "I'm a bit unsteady...There now, mybag. Don't move, Mrs. Harris...I think we are quite ready now, are wenot?"
"Most remarkable man," whispered McCrae to Harris. "Wonderful how hecan pull himself together."
McCrae hurried to his own sleigh, called a cheery "All ready!" andthe party at once proceeded to get under way. This was notaccomplished without difficulty. The cattle showed no disposition tofollow the sleighs, but hung back, pulling on their ropes withamazing strength. One or two, in an excess of stubbornness, sat downin the snow and had to be dragged bodily. The settlers had three orfour dogs along, but it was not considered safe to let them get atthe cattle, lest the frightened animals should break their ropes andoccasion further delay. The situation was only relieved by a numberof men following behind, prodding vigorously and twisting the tailsof the most recalcitrant. Presently the cows began to swing along,and, finding that no harm befell them, they soon settled into a slowbut steady gait, and gave no more trouble until they began to tirewith their travel.
The horses, too, had their own difficulties. Jaded and nervous withtheir long trip in the cars, and strange to the air and surroundings,they fidgeted and fretted, and soon the sweat-line was creeping uptheir backs. The sleigh trails stood high over the level of thesurrounding prairie, and the horses were continually slipping off.The snow packed in hard balls under their feet, and at intervals thedrivers were obliged to get out and clear it away. The March sun,which had shone down with such fierce heat during the middle of theday, now swung far to the westward, facing the travellers over anocean of snow stretching away into the unknown. The day grew colder;women and children drew blankets tighter about them, and huddledlower in the sleighs to escape a sharp wind that slipped silentlydown from the north, carrying a ground-drift of icy particles in itsbreath.
Harris's thoughts were on his team, on the two cows trudging behind,and on the multiplicity of arrangements which his new life wouldpresent for decision and settlement. But his wife gazed silently outover the ocean of snow. The rays of the sun fell gratefully on hercheeks, pale and somewhat wan with her long journey. But the sun wentdown, and the western sky, cloudless and measureless, faded from goldto copper, and from copper to silver, and from silver to lead.Turning uncomfortably in her crowded seat the girl could see, farbeyond the last of the teams, the road over which they had travelled,stretching away until it lost itself, a point in the gatheringdarkness. To the west it lost itself over the shoulder o
f theprairie... The men had ceased to shout to each other; the cattleplodded uncomplainingly; silently they moved in the midst of asilence expanding into the infinite. It was her first sight of theprairie, and a strange mixture of emotions, of awe, and loneliness,and a certain indifference to personal consequences, welled up withinher. Once or twice she thought of home--a home so far away that itmight have been in another planet. But she would not let her minddwell on it for long. She was going to be brave. She had talked withthe other women on the train and in the town. They were women fromOntario farms, some of them well into middle life, women who hadknown the drudge of unremitting toil since childhood. Their speechwas faulty; their manners would not have passed muster amid her oldassociations; but their quiet optimism was unbounded, their couragewas an inspiration. She too would be brave! For the sake of the braveman who sat at her side, guiding his team in the deepening darkness;for the sake of the new home that they two should build somewhereover the horizon; for the sake of the civilization that was to beplanted, of the nation that must arise, of the manhood and womanhoodof to-morrow--she would be brave. Deep in her heart she swore shewould be brave, even while a recreant tear stole forth unbidden andfroze into a little pearl of pathos on her cheek.
A bright star shone down from the west; one by one they appeared inthe heavens...It grew colder. The snow no longer caked on the horses'feet; the sleigh-runners creaked and whined uncannily.
Suddenly a strange sound came down on the north wind--a sound thatmade the girl who had just been vowing to be brave nestle stillcloser to the big man at her side, and his arm fell protectinglyabout her. It was a succession of sharp barks like those of a dog,but the barks presently ran together in a long, doleful howl thatrose in a high crescendo on the night air, and then slowly died awayinto a minor note that seemed to echo back and forth across theplain. As it died out in one point of the compass it was taken up inanother, until the little party wending its way in the darknessseemed altogether surrounded by it.
"What is it?" whispered the girl. "What is it, Jack? Do you know?"
"I don't know," said the man. "It sounds like--wolves."
"Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Harris," said a quiet voice. Looking aroundthey found the doctor sitting up in the sleigh. He had fallen asleepas soon as the journey started, and they had almost forgotten hispresence.
"Don't be alarmed," he repeated. "Their howl is the only terrifyingthing about them. Prairie wolves are very different from theircousins of the woods. They fill the night air with their howling, butthey are cowardly brutes and would rather run than fight."
"I suppose you have had some strange experiences with animals of theprairies," said the girl, with a brave effort to appear at ease, butbefore the doctor could answer the team came to a sudden stop. Thesleigh in front was obstructing the road, and the party closed up insolid formation.
"Camp Number One," called Aleck McCrae, from the head sleigh. "Thehorses and cattle are tired, an'--"
"And the captain is hungry," put in Ned Beacon. "Isn't that right?"
"Well, Ah _am_ nursing a young appetite," admitted Aleck, exhibitingthe slack of his belt. "Now, run these sleighs up in two rows," andAleck indicated where he wanted them placed. "It's hard on the horsesan' cattle, after the warm cars, but they'll stand it tonight ifthey're well blanketed. To-morrow night we'll be among theMennonites, with a chance of getting stable room."
Under Aleck's direction the sleighs were run up in two rows, abouttwenty feet apart, facing the north. Two sleighs were then run acrossthe opening at the north end, so that altogether they formed athree-sided court. Men with shovels quickly cleared the snow from thenortherly portion of the court, and there the tent was pitched. Onthe south side of the tent, where they were sheltered from the northwind, the horses and cattle were lined up as closely as they could becrowded. Horse blankets, buffalo robes, rag carpets, and even familybedding, were tied about the animals. The horses were supplied withhay and oats and the cattle with hay alone, and after eating they laydown for the night, and were soon blowing and heaving in a warm fogof comfort.
Meanwhile inside the tent was a scene of great activity. The groundwas covered with blankets, robes, and bedding. A lantern from thecentre pole sent wedge-shaped shadows darting back and forth; thecamp stove was set up, and a fire from wood which McCrae had broughtalong was soon crackling in it. Pots and pans were produced; womeneager to be of service swarmed about the stove, and children, free atlast of their muffling wraps, romped in high-laughtered glee amongthe robes or danced back and forward with the swinging shadows.
"Now this won't do at all," said McCrae, returning from an inspectionof affairs outside. "Too many cooks, you know. Ah want one womanhere. Everybody else sit down."
The captain's word was recognized as law. He selected an able-lookingsettler's wife as assistant cook, while the others, men, women, andchildren, sitting down, seemed to fill the tent to the limit of itscapacity.
Savoury smells soon were coming from hot frying-pans, as sliced ham,with bread and gravy, was served up in tin plates and passed aboutthe tent. Everybody--married men and women, maidens and young men,girls, boys, and little children--was ravenously hungry, and for afew minutes little could be heard but the plying of the viands. Butas the first edge of hunger became dulled the edge of wit sharpened,and laughter and banter rollicked back and forward through the tent.The doctor, now quite sober, took a census, and found the totalpopulation to be twenty-eight. These he classified as twelve married,eight eligible, seven children, and himself, for whom he found noclassification.
"You have a head for figures, Harris, I think," he said. "How muchspace can be allotted to each?"
Harris found that the tent was twelve by eighteen feet, and thatabout eight feet of floor space would be available for each person,if they moved the stove out.
"The space is sufficient, but the ventilation isn't," said thedoctor, as he set about opening ventilator flaps. "If I am to beresponsible for your health there are just two rules to follow. Dowhatever Aleck McCrae tells you, and don't be afraid of fresh air,even with frost in it."
The tin plates had gone back to McCrae, and were returning, loadedthis time with bread and molasses. A steaming cup of tea accompaniedeach plate. Fortunately there was milk for the children, two of thecows having contributed this important item of the commissariat.
When the meal was over and the dishes washed and packed, Aleck madeanother round of the camp before settling down for the night.Meantime mothers gathered their families about them as best theycould; the little ones sleepily mumbled their prayers, and all hands,young and old, nestled down like a brood of tired chickens under thewhite wings of the protecting tent. Outside the ground-drift siftedgently about the sleighs, the cows sighed in contentment, and thewolves yapped to each other in the distance.