CHAPTER TWO.
THE OLD FUR-TRADER ENDEAVOURS TO "FIX" HIS SON'S "FLINT," AND FINDS THETHING MORE DIFFICULT TO DO THAN HE EXPECTED.
Near the centre of the colony of Red River, the stream from which thesettlement derives its name is joined by another, called theAssiniboine. About five or six hundred yards from the point where thisunion takes place, and on the banks of the latter stream, stands theHudson's Bay Company's trading-post, Fort Garry. It is a massive squarebuilding of stone. Four high and thick walls enclose a space of groundon which are built six or eight wooden houses, some of which are used asdwellings for the servants of the Hudson's Bay Company, and others asstores, wherein are contained the furs, the provisions which are sentannually to various parts of the country, and the goods (such as cloth,guns, powder and shot, blankets, twine, axes, knives, etcetera,etcetera,) with which the fur-trade is carried on. Although Red Riveris a peaceful colony, and not at all likely to be assaulted by the poorIndians, it was, nevertheless, deemed prudent by the traders to makesome show of power; and so at the corners of the fort four roundbastions of a very imposing appearance were built, from the embrasuresof which several large black-muzzled guns protruded. No one everconceived the idea of firing these engines of war; and, indeed, it ishighly probable that such an attempt would have been attended withconsequences much more dreadful to those _behind_ than to those whomight chance to be in front of the guns. Nevertheless they wereimposing, and harmonised well with the flagstaff, which was the onlyother military symptom about the place. This latter was used onparticular occasions, such as the arrival or departure of a brigade ofboats, for the purpose of displaying the folds of a red flag on whichwere the letters H.B.C.
The fort stood, as we have said, on the banks of the Assiniboine River,on the opposite side of which the land was somewhat wooded, though notheavily, with oak, maple, poplar, aspens, and willows; while at the backof the fort the great prairie rolled out like a green sea to thehorizon, and far beyond that again to the base of the Rocky Mountains.The plains at this time, however, were a sheet of unbroken snow, and theriver a mass of solid ice.
It was noon on the day following that on which our friend Charley hadthreatened rebellion, when a tall elderly man might have been seenstanding at the back gate of Fort Garry, gazing wistfully out into theprairie in the direction of the lower part of the settlement. He waswatching a small speck which moved rapidly over the snow in thedirection of the fort.
"It's very like our friend Frank Kennedy," said he to himself (at leastwe presume so, for there was no one else within earshot to whom he couldhave said it, except the door-post, which every one knows isproverbially a deaf subject). "No man in the settlement drives sofuriously. I shouldn't wonder if he ran against the corner of the newfence now. Ha! just so--there he goes!"
And truly the reckless driver did "go" just at that moment. He came upto the corner of the new fence, where the road took a rather abruptturn, in a style that ensured a capsize. In another second the spiritedhorse turned sharp round, the sleigh turned sharp over, and the occupantwas pitched out at full length, while a black object, that might havebeen mistaken for his hat, rose from his side like a rocket, and, flyingover him, landed on the snow several yards beyond. A faint shout washeard to float on the breeze as this catastrophe occurred, and thedriver was seen to jump up and readjust himself in the cariole; whilethe other black object proved itself not to be a hat by getting hastilyup on a pair of legs, and scrambling back to the seat from which it hadbeen so unceremoniously ejected.
In a few minutes more the cheerful tinkling of the merry sleigh-bellswas heard, and Frank Kennedy, accompanied by his hopeful son Charles,dashed up to the gate, and pulled up with a jerk.
"Ha! Grant, my fine fellow, how are you?" exclaimed Mr Kennedy,senior, as he disengaged himself from the heavy folds of the buffalorobe and shook the snow from his greatcoat. "Why on earth, man, don'tyou put up a sign-post and a board to warn travellers that you've beenrunning out new fences and changing the road, eh?"
"Why, my good friend," said Mr Grant, smiling, "the fence and the roadare of themselves pretty conclusive proof to most men that the road ischanged; and, besides, we don't often have people driving round cornersat full gallop; but--"
"Hollo! Charley, you rascal," interrupted Mr Kennedy--"here, take themare to the stable, and don't drive her too fast. Mind, now, no goingoff upon the wrong road for the sake of a drive, you understand."
"All right, father," exclaimed the boy, while a bright smile lit up hisfeatures and displayed two rows of white teeth: "I'll be particularlycareful," and he sprang into the light vehicle, seized the reins, andwith a sharp crack of the whip dashed down the road at a hard gallop.
"He's a fine fellow that son of yours," said Mr Grant, "and will make afirst-rate fur-trader."
"Fur-trader!" exclaimed Mr Kennedy. "Just look at him! I'll be shotif he isn't thrashing the mare as if she were made of leather." The oldman's ire was rising rapidly as he heard the whip crack every now andthen, and saw the mare bound madly over the snow. "And see!" hecontinued, "I declare he _has_ taken the wrong turn after all."
"True," said Mr Grant: "he'll never reach the stable by that road; he'smuch more likely to visit the White-horse Plains. But come, friend,it's of no use fretting. Charley will soon tire of his ride; so comewith me to my room and have a pipe before dinner."
Old Mr Kennedy gave a short groan of despair, shook his fist at theform of his retreating son, and accompanied his friend to the house.
It must not be supposed that Frank Kennedy was very deeply offended withhis son, although he did shower on him a considerable amount of abuse.On the contrary, he loved him very much. But it was the old man'snature to give way to little bursts of passion on almost every occasionin which his feelings were at all excited. These bursts, however, werelike the little puffs that ripple the surface of the sea on a calmsummer's day. They were over in a second, and left his good-humoured,rough, candid countenance in unruffled serenity. Charley knew thiswell, and loved his father tenderly, so that his conscience frequentlysmote him for raising his anger so often; and he over and over againpromised his sister Kate to do his best to refrain from doing anythingthat was likely to annoy the old man in future. But, alas! Charley'sresolves, like those of many other boys, were soon forgotten, and hisfather's equanimity was upset generally two or three times a day; butafter the gust was over, the fur-trader would kiss his son, call him a"rascal," and send him off to fill and fetch his pipe.
Mr Grant, who was in charge of Fort Garry, led the way to his smokingapartment, where the two were soon seated in front of a roaringlog-fire, emulating each other in the manufacture of smoke.
"Well, Kennedy," said Mr Grant, throwing himself back in his chair,elevating his chin, and emitting a long thin stream of white vapour fromhis lips, through which he gazed at his friend complacently--"well,Kennedy, to what fortunate chance am I indebted for this visit? It isnot often that we have the pleasure of seeing you here."
Mr Kennedy created two large volumes of smoke, which, by means of avigorous puff, he sent rolling over towards his friend, and said,"Charley."
"And what of Charley?" said Mr Grant, with a smile, for he was wellaware of the boy's propensity to fun, and of the father's desire to curbit.
"The fact is," replied Kennedy, "that Charley must be broke. He's thewildest colt I ever had to tame, but I'll do it--I will--that's a fact."
If Charley's subjugation had depended on the rapidity with which thelittle white clouds proceeded from his sire's mouth, there is no doubtthat it would have been a "fact" in a very short time, for they rushedfrom him with the violence of a high wind. Long habit had made the oldtrader and his pipe not only inseparable companions, but part and parcelof each other--so intimately connected that a change in the one was sureto produce a sympathetic change in the other. In the present instance,the little clouds rapidly increased in size and number as the oldgentleman thought on the obstinacy of his "colt."
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br /> "Yes," he continued, after a moment's silence, "I've made up my mind totame him, and I want _you_, Mr Grant, to help me."
Mr Grant looked as if he would rather not undertake to lend his aid ina work that was evidently difficult; but being a good-natured man, hesaid, "And how, friend, can I assist in the operation?"
"Well, you see, Charley's a good fellow at bottom, and a clever fellowtoo--at least so says the schoolmaster; though I must confess that, sofar as my experience goes, he's only clever at finding out excuses fornot doing what I want him to. But still I'm told he's clever, and canuse his pen well; and I know for certain that he can use his tonguewell. So I want to get him into the service, and have him placed in asituation where he shall have to stick to his desk all day. In fact, Iwant to have him broken in to work; for you've no notion, sir, how thatboy talks about bears and buffaloes and badgers, and life in the woodsamong the Indians. I do believe," continued the old gentleman, waxingwarm, "that he would willingly go into the woods to-morrow, if I wouldlet him, and never show his nose in the settlement again. He's quiteincorrigible. But I'll tame him yet--I will!"
Mr Kennedy followed this up with an indignant grunt, and a puff ofsmoke, so thick, and propelled with such vigour, that it rolled andcurled in fantastic evolutions towards the ceiling, as if it were unableto control itself with delight at the absolute certainty of Charleybeing tamed at last.
Mr Grant, however, shook his head, and remained for five minutes inprofound silence, during which time the two friends puffed in concert,until they began to grow quite indistinct and ghostlike in the thickatmosphere. At last he broke silence.
"My opinion is that you're wrong, Mr Kennedy. No doubt you know thedisposition of your son better than I do; but even judging of it fromwhat you have said, I'm quite sure that a sedentary life will ruin him."
"Ruin him! Humbug!" said Kennedy, who never failed to express hisopinion at the shortest notice and in the plainest language--a fact sowell known by his friends that they had got into the habit of taking nonotice of it. "Humbug!" he repeated, "perfect humbug! You don't meanto tell me that the way to break him in is to let him run loose and wildwhenever and wherever he pleases?"
"By no means. But you may rest assured that tying him down won't doit."
"Nonsense!" said Mr Kennedy testily; "don't tell me. Have I not brokenin young colts by the score? and don't I know that the way to fix theirflints is to clap on a good strong curb?"
"If you had travelled farther south, friend," replied Mr Grant, "youwould have seen the Spaniards of Mexico break in their wild horses in avery different way; for after catching one with a lasso, a fellow getson his back, and gives it the rein and the whip--ay, and the spur too;and before that race is over, there is no need for a curb."
"What!" exclaimed Kennedy, "and do you mean to argue from that, that Ishould let Charley run--and _help_ him too? Send him off to the woodswith gun and blanket, canoe and tent, all complete?" The old gentlemanpuffed a furious puff, and broke into a loud, sarcastic laugh.
"No, no," interrupted Mr Grant; "I don't exactly mean that, but I thinkthat you might give him his way for a year or so. He's a fine, active,generous fellow; and after the novelty wore off, he would be in a muchbetter frame of mind to listen to your proposals. Besides" (and MrGrant smiled expressively), "Charley is somewhat like his father. Hehas got a will of his own; and if you do not give him his way, I verymuch fear that he'll--"
"What?" inquired Mr Kennedy abruptly.
"Take it," said Mr Grant.
The puff that burst from Mr Kennedy's lips on hearing this would havedone credit to a thirty-six pounder.
"Take it!" said he; "he'd _better_ not."
The latter part of this speech was not in itself of a nature calculatedto convey much; but the tone of the old trader's voice, the contractionof his eyebrows, and above all the overwhelming flow of cloudlets thatfollowed, imparted to it a significance that induced the belief thatCharley's taking his own way would be productive of more terrificconsequences than it was in the power of the most highly imaginative manto conceive.
"There's his sister Kate, now," continued the old gentleman; "she's asgentle and biddable as a lamb. I've only to say a word, and she's offlike a shot to do my bidding; and she does it with such a sweet smiletoo." There was a touch of pathos in the old trader's voice as he saidthis. He was a man of strong feeling, and as impulsive in histenderness as in his wrath. "But that rascal Charley," he continued,"is quite different. He's obstinate as a mule. To be sure, he has agood temper; and I must say for him he never goes into the sulks, whichis a comfort, for of all things in the world sulking is the mostchildish and contemptible. He _generally_ does what I bid him, too.But he's _always_ getting into scrapes of one kind or other. And duringthe last week, notwithstanding all I can say to him, he won't admit thatthe best thing for him is to get a place in your counting-room, with theprospect of rapid promotion in the service. Very odd. I can'tunderstand it at all;" and Mr Kennedy heaved a deep sigh.
"Did you ever explain to him the prospects that he would have in thesituation you propose for him?" inquired Mr Grant.
"Can't say I ever did."
"Did you ever point out the probable end of a life spent in the woods?"
"No."
"Nor suggest to him that the appointment to the office here would onlybe temporary, and to see how he got on in it?"
"Certainly not."
"Then, my dear sir, I'm not surprised that Charley rebels. You haveleft him to suppose that, once placed at the desk here, he is a prisonerfor life. But see, there he is," said Mr Grant, pointing as he spoketowards the subject of their conversation, who was passing the window atthe moment; "let me call him, and I feel certain that he will listen toreason in a few minutes."
"Humph!" ejaculated Mr Kennedy, "you may try."
In another minute Charley had been summoned, and was seated, cap inhand, near the door.
"Charley, my boy," began Mr Grant, standing with his back to the fire,his feet pretty wide apart, and his coat-tails under his arms--"Charley,my boy, your father has just been speaking of you. He is very anxiousthat you should enter the service of the Hudson's Bay Company; and asyou are a clever boy and a good penman, we think that you would belikely to get on if placed for a year or so in our office here. I needscarcely point out to you, my boy, that in such a position you would besure to obtain more rapid promotion than if you were placed in one ofthe distant outposts, where you would have very little to do, andperhaps little to eat, and no one to converse with except one or twomen. Of course, we would merely place you here on trial, to see how yousuited us; and if you prove steady and diligent, there is no saying howfast you might get on. Why, you might even come to fill _my_ place incourse of time. Come now, Charley, what think you of it?"
Charley's eyes had been cast on the ground while Mr Grant was speaking.He now raised them, looked at his father, then at his interrogator, andsaid--
"It is very kind of you both to be so anxious about my prospects. Ithank you, indeed, very much; but I--a--"
"Don't like the desk?" said his father, in an angry tone. "Is that it,eh?"
Charley made no reply, but cast down his eyes again and smiled (Charleyhad a sweet smile, a peculiarly sweet, candid smile), as if he meant tosay that his father had hit the nail quite on the top of the head thattime, and no mistake.
"But consider," resumed Mr Grant, "although you might probably bepleased with an outpost life at first, you would be sure to grow wearyof it after the novelty wore off, and then you would wish with all yourheart to be back here again. Believe me, child, a trader's life is avery hard and not often a very satisfactory one--"
"Ay," broke in the father, desirous, if possible, to help the argument,"and you'll find it a desperately wild, unsettled, roving sort of life,too, let me tell you! full of dangers both from wild beasts and wildmen--"
"Hush!" interrupted Mr Grant, observing that the boy's eye kindled whenhis father spoke of a
wild, roving life and wild beasts.--"Your fatherdoes not mean that life at an outpost is wild and _interesting_ or_exciting_. He merely means that--a--it--"
Mr Grant could not very well explain what it was that Mr Kennedy meantif he did not mean that, so he turned to him for help.
"Exactly so," said that gentleman, taking a strong pull at the pipe forinspiration. "It's no ways interesting or exciting at all. It's slow,dull, and flat; a miserable sort of Robinson Crusoe life, with redIndians and starvation constantly staring you in the face--"
"Besides," said Mr Grant, again interrupting the somewhat unfortunateefforts of his friend, who seemed to have a happy facility in sending abrilliant dash of romantic allusion across the dark side of hispicture--"besides, you'll not have opportunity to amuse yourself, or toread, as you'll have no books, and you'll have to work hard with yourhands oftentimes, like your men--"
"In fact," broke in the impatient father, resolved, apparently, to carrythe point with a grand _coup_--"in fact, you'll have to _rough it_, as Idid, when I went up the Mackenzie River district, where I was sent toestablish a new post, and had to travel for weeks and weeks through awild country, where none of us had ever been before; where we shot ourown meat, caught our own fish, and built our own house--and were verynear being murdered by the Indians; though, to be sure, afterwards theybecame the most civil fellows in the country, and brought us plenty ofskins. Ay, lad, you'll repent of your obstinacy when you come to haveto hunt your own dinner, as I've done many a day up the Saskatchewan,where I've had to fight with red-skins and grizzly bears, and to chasethe buffaloes over miles and miles of prairie on rough-going nags tillmy bones ached and I scarce knew whether I sat on--"
"Oh" exclaimed Charley, starting to his feet, while his eyes flashed andhis chest heaved with emotion, "that's the place for me, father!--Do,please, Mr Grant, send me there, and I'll work for you with all mymight!"
Frank Kennedy was not a man to stand this unexpected miscarriage of hiseloquence with equanimity. His first action was to throw his pipe atthe head of his enthusiastic boy; without worse effect, however, thansmashing it to atoms on the opposite wall. He then started up andrushed towards his son, who, being near the door, retreatedprecipitately and vanished.
"So," said Mr Grant, not very sure whether to laugh or be angry at theresult of their united efforts, "you've settled the question now, at allevents."
Frank Kennedy said nothing, but filled another pipe, sat doggedly downin front of the fire, and speedily enveloped himself, and his friend,and all that the room contained, in thick, impenetrable clouds of smoke.
Meanwhile his worthy son rushed off in a state of great glee. He hadoften heard the voyageurs of Red River dilate on the delights ofroughing it in the woods, and his heart had bounded as they spoke ofdangers encountered and overcome among the rapids of the Far North, orwith the bears and bison-bulls of the prairie, but never till now had heheard his father corroborate their testimony by a recital of his ownactual experience; and although the old gentleman's intention wasundoubtedly to damp the boy's spirit, his eloquence had exactly theopposite effect--so that it was with a hop and a shout that he burstinto the counting-room, with the occupants of which Charley was aspecial favourite.