I THE BIRCH BARK LETTER
On the river bank a boy sat watching the slender birch canoes bobbingabout in the swift current. The fresh wind reddened his cheeks and theroaring of the rapids filled his ears. Eagerly his eyes followed themovements of the canoes daringly poised in the stream just below thetossing, foaming, white water. It was the first day of the springfishing, and more exciting sport than this Indian white-fishing HughBeaupre had never seen. Three canoes were engaged in the fascinatinggame, two Indians in each. One knelt in the stern with his paddle. Theother stood erect in the bow, a slender pole fully ten feet long in hishands, balancing with extraordinary skill as the frail craft pitchedabout in the racing current.
The standing Indian in the nearest canoe was a fine figure of a youngman, in close-fitting buckskin leggings, his slender, muscular, bronzebody stripped to the waist. Above his black head, bent a little as hegazed intently down into the clear water, gulls wheeled and screamed inanger at the invasion of their fishing ground. Suddenly the fishermanpointed, with a swift movement of his left hand, to the spot where hiskeen eyes had caught the gleam of a fin. Instantly his companionresponded to the signal. With a quick dig and twist of the paddle blade,he shot the canoe forward at an angle. Down went the scoop net on the endof the long pole and up in one movement. A dexterous flirt of the net,and the fish, its wet, silvery sides gleaming in the sun, landed in thebottom of the boat.
The lad on the bank had been holding his breath. Now his tensewatchfulness relaxed, and he glanced farther up-stream at the white waterboiling over and around the black rocks. A gleam of bright red among thebushes along the shore caught his eye. The tip of a scarlet cap, then ahead, appeared above the budding alders, as a man came, with swift,swinging strides, along the shore path.
"Hola, Hugh Beaupre," he cried, when he was close enough to be heardabove the tumult of the rapids. "M'sieu Cadotte, he want you."
The lad scrambled to his feet. "Monsieur Cadotte sent you for me?" heasked in surprise. "What does he want with me, Baptiste?"
"A messenger from the New Fort has come, but a few moments ago," Baptistereplied, this time in French.
Hugh, half French himself, understood that language well, though he spokeit less fluently than English.
"From the Kaministikwia? He has brought news of my father?"
"That M'sieu did not tell me, but yes, I think it may be so, since M'sieusends for you."
Hugh had scarcely waited for an answer. Before Baptiste had finished hisspeech, the boy was running along the river path. The French Canadianstrode after, the tassel of his cap bobbing, the ends of his scarlet sashstreaming in the brisk breeze.
Hastening past the small cabins that faced the St. Mary's River, Hughturned towards a larger building, like the others of rough, unbarkedlogs. Here he knew he should find Monsieur Cadotte, fur trader and agentfor the Northwest Fur Company. Finding the door open, the lad enteredwithout ceremony.
Monsieur Cadotte was alone, going through for a second time the reportsand letters the half-breed messenger had brought from the Company'sheadquarters on the River Kaministikwia at the farther end of LakeSuperior. The trader looked up as the boy entered.
"A letter for you, Hugh." He lifted a packet from the rude table.
"From my father?" came the eager question.
"That I do not know, but no doubt it will give you news of him."
A strange looking letter Cadotte handed the lad, a thin packet of birchbark tied about with rough cedar cord. On the outer wrapping the name"Hugh Beaupre" was written in a brownish fluid. Hugh cut the cord andremoved the wrapper. His first glance at the thin squares of white,papery bark showed him that the writing was not his father's. The letterwas in French, in the same muddy brown ink as the address. Thehandwriting was good, better than the elder Beaupre's, and the spellingnot so bad as Hugh's own when he attempted to write French. He had littledifficulty in making out the meaning.
"My brother," the letter began, "our father, before he died, bade me write to you at the Sault de Ste. Marie. In March he left the Lake of Red Cedars with one comrade and two dog sleds laden with furs. At the Fond du Lac he put sail to a bateau, and with the furs he started for the Grand Portage. But wind and rain came and the white fog. He knew not where he was and the waves bore him on the rocks. He escaped drowning and came at last to the Grand Portage and Wauswaugoning. But he was sore hurt in the head and the side, and before the setting of the sun his spirit had left his body. While he could yet speak he told me of you, my half-brother, and bade me write to you. He bade me tell you of the furs and of a packet of value hid in a safe place near the wreck of the bateau. He told me that the furs are for you and me. He said you and I must get them and take them to the New Northwest Company at the Kaministikwia. The packet you must bear to a man in Montreal. Our father bade us keep silence and go quickly. He had enemies, as well I know. So, my brother, I bid you come as swiftly as you can to the Kaministikwia, where I will await you.
Thy half-brother, Blaise Beaupre or Attekonse, Little Caribou."
Hugh read the strange letter to the end, then turned back to the firstbark sheet to read again. He had reached the last page a second time whenCadotte's voice aroused him from his absorption.
"It is bad news?" the trader asked.
"Yes," Hugh answered, raising his eyes from the letter. "My father isdead."
"Bad news in truth." Cadotte's voice was vibrant with sympathy. "It wasnot, I hope, _la petite verole_?" His despatches had informed him thatthe dreaded smallpox had broken out among the Indian villages west ofSuperior.
"No, he was wrecked." Hugh hesitated, then continued, "On his spring tripdown his boat went on the rocks, and he was so sorely hurt that he livedbut a short time."
"A sad accident truly. Believe me, I feel for you, my boy. If there isanything I can do----" Cadotte broke off, then added, "You will wish toreturn to your relatives. We must arrange to send you to Michilimackinacon the schooner. From there you can readily find a way of return toMontreal."
Hugh was at a loss for a reply. He had not the slightest intention ofreturning to Montreal so soon. He must obey his half-brother's summonsand go to recover the furs and the packet that made up the lads' jointinheritance. Kind though Cadotte had been, Hugh dared not tell him all."He bade us keep silence," Little Caribou had written, and one word inthe letter disclosed to Hugh a good reason for silence.
Jean Beaupre had been a free trader and trapper, doing business with theIndians on his own account, not in the direct service of any company.Hugh knew, however, that his father had been in the habit of buying hissupplies from and selling his pelts to the Old Northwest Company. Verylikely he had been under some contract to do so. Yet in these lastinstructions to his sons, he bade them take the furs to the _New_Northwest Company, a secession from and rival to the old organization. Hemust have had some disagreement, an actual quarrel perhaps, with the OldCompany. The rivalry between the fur companies was hot and bitter. Hughwas very sure that if Monsieur Cadotte learned of the hidden pelts, hewould inform his superiors. Then, in all probability, the Old NorthwestCompany's men would reach the cache first. Certainly, if he evensuspected that the pelts were destined for the New Company, Cadotte woulddo nothing to further and everything to hinder Hugh's project. The boywas in a difficult position. He had to make up his mind quickly. Cadottewas eying him sharply and curiously.
"I cannot return to Montreal just yet, Monsieur Cadotte," Hugh said atlast. "This letter is from my half-brother." He paused in embarrassment.
Cadotte nodded and waited for the boy to go on. The trader knew that JeanBeaupre had an Indian wife, and supposed that Hugh had known it also.Part Indian himself, Cadotte could never have understood the lad'samazement and consternation at learning now, for the first time, of hishalf-brother.
"My father," Hugh went on, "bade Blaise, my half-brother, tell meto--come to the Kamin
istikwia and meet Blaise there. He wished me to--tomake my brother's acquaintance and--and receive from him--something myfather left me," he concluded lamely.
Cadotte was regarding Hugh keenly. The boy's embarrassed manner wasenough to make him suspect that Hugh was not telling the truth. Cadotteshrugged his shoulders. "It may be difficult to send you in thatdirection. If you were an experienced canoeman, but you are not and----"
"But I _must_ go," Hugh broke in. "My father bade me, and you wouldn'thave me disobey his last command. Can't I go in the _Otter_? I still havesome of the money my aunt gave me. If I am not sailor enough to work myway, I can pay for my passage."
"Eh bien, we will see what can be done," Cadotte replied more kindly.Perhaps the lad's earnestness and distress had convinced him that Hughhad some more urgent reason than a mere boyish desire for adventure, formaking the trip. "I will see if matters can be arranged."