CHAPTER ELEVEN.
START AFRESH--SUPERSTITIOUS NOTIONS--THE WHIRLPOOL--THE INTERIOR--FISHING IN THE OLD WAY ON NEW GROUND, AND WHAT CAME OF IT--A COLD BATH--THE RESCUE--SAVED--DEEPER AND DEEPER INTO THE WILDERNESS.
As if to make amends for its late outrageous conduct, the weather, afterthe night of the great storm, continued unbrokenly serene for many days,enabling our travellers to make rapid progress towards theirdestination: It would be both tiresome and unnecessary to follow themstep by step throughout their journey, as the part of it which we havealready described was, in many respects, typical of the whole voyagealong the east coast of Hudson's Bay. Sometimes, indeed, a fewincidents of an unusual character did occur. Once they were very nearlybeing crushed between masses of ice; twice the larger canoe struck on ahummock, and had to be landed and repaired; and frequently mishaps of aslighter nature befell them. Their beds, too, varied occasionally. Atone time they laid them down to rest on the sand of the sea-shore; atanother, on the soft turf and springy moss of the woods. Sometimes theywere compelled to content themselves with a couch of pebbles, few ofwhich were smaller than a man's fist; and, not unfrequently, they had tomake the best they could of a flat rock, whose unyielding surface seemedto put the idea of anything like rest to flight, causing the thin men ofthe party to growl and the fat ones to chuckle. Bryan was one of thewell-favoured, being round and fleshy; while his poor little friend LaRoche possessed a framework of bones that were so sparingly covered withsofter substance, as to render it a matter of wonder how he and thestones could compromise the matter at all, and called forth from hisfriend frequent impertinent allusions to "thridpapers, bags o' bones,idges o' knives, half fathoms o' pump water," and such like curioussubstances. But whatever the bed, it invariably turned out that thewhole party slept soundly from the time they lay down till the time ofrising, which was usually at the break of day.
Owing to the little Indian canoe having been wrecked on the sand-bank,Frank and his men had to embark in the smaller of the large canoes; achange which was in some respects a disadvantage to the party, as Frankcould not now so readily dash away in pursuit of game. However, thisdid not much matter, as, in a few days afterwards, they arrived at themouth of the river by which they intended to penetrate into the interiorof the country. The name of the river is Deer River, and it flows intoRichmond Gulf, which is situated on the east shore of Hudson's Bay, inlatitude 56 degrees North. Richmond Gulf is twenty miles long, andabout the same in breadth; but the entrance to it is so narrow that thetide pours into it like a torrent until it is full. The pent-up watersthen rush out on one side of this narrow inlet while they are running inat the other, causing a whirlpool which would engulf a large boat andgreatly endanger even a small vessel. Of course it was out of thequestion to attempt the passage of such a vortex in canoes, except athalf flood or half ebb tide, at which periods the waters became quiet.On arriving at the mouth of the gulf, the travellers found the tide outand the entrance to it curling and rolling in massive volumes, as if allthe evil water-spirits of the north were holding their orgies there.Oostesimow and Ma-Istequan, being by nature and education intenselysuperstitious, told Stanley--after they had landed to await the flow ofthe tide--that it was absolutely necessary to perform certain ceremoniesin order to propitiate the deities of the place, otherwise they couldnot expect to pass such an awful whirlpool in safety. Their leadersmiled, and told them to do as they thought fit, adding, however, thathe would not join them, as he did not believe in any deities whatever,except the one true God, who did not require to be propitiated in anyway, and could not be moved by any other means than by prayer in thename of Jesus Christ. The red men seemed surprised a little at this,but, with their proverbial stoicism, refrained from any further or moredecided expression of feeling.
Nevertheless, the Indians sufficiently showed their faith in their owndoctrines by immediately setting about a series of curious and elaborateceremonies, which it was impossible to comprehend, and decidedlyunprofitable to describe. They appeared, however, to attach muchimportance to their propitiatory offerings, the chief among which seemedto be a few inches of tobacco, with which it was fondly hoped thedeities of the gulf would condescend to smoke the pipe of peace whiletheir red children ventured to trespass a little on their domain; andhard indeed must have been the hearts of the said spirits had theyrefused so valuable an offering, for tobacco is the life and marrow, thequintessence of terrestrial felicity, the very joy and comfort of avoyageur, and the poor Indians had but little of it to spare.
While this was going on, Bryan stood with his back to the fire, aremarkably short and peculiarly black pipe in his mouth, and his headinclined sagaciously to one side, as if he designed, by dint of acombination of intense mental abstraction, partial closing of his eyes,severe knitting of his brows, and slow but exceedingly voluminousemission of smoke, to come to a conclusion in regard to the unfathomablesubject of Indian superstition. La Roche, steeped in unphilosophicindifference on such matters, and keenly alive to the gross cravings ofhunger, busied himself in concocting a kettle of soup; while the rest ofthe party rambled about the beach or among the bushes in search of eggs.In this latter search Frank and Edith were very successful, andreturned with pockets laden with excellent eggs of the eider-duck, whichwere immediately put into the kettle, and tended not a little toincrease the excellence of the soup and the impatience of the men.
Meanwhile the tide rose, the power of the current was gradually checked,and towards noon they passed the dangerous narrows in safety. From theview that was now obtained of the interior, it became evident that theworst of their journey yet lay before them. On arriving at the mouth ofDeer River, the mountains were seen to rise abruptly and precipitously,while far away inland their faint blue peaks rose into the sky. Indeedfrom this point the really hard work of the voyage may be said to havecommenced; for scarcely had they proceeded a few miles up the river,when their further progress, at least by water, was effectuallyinterrupted by a rapid which came leaping madly down its rocky bed, asif the streams rejoiced to escape from the chasms and mountain gorges,and find rest at last on the ample bosom of the great deep.
"What think ye of that, boy?" said Stanley to Frank Morton, as theyleaped from their respective canoes, and stood gazing at the rugged glenfrom which the rapid issued, and the wild appearance of the hillsbeyond. "It seems to me that report spoke truly when it said that theway to Clearwater Lake was rugged. Here is no despicable portage tobegin with; and yonder cliffs, that look so soft and blue in the fardistance, will prove to be dark and hard enough when we get at them, Iwarrant."
"When we get at them!" echoed Mrs Stanley, as she approached, leadingEdith by the hand. "Get at them, George! Had any one asked me if itwere possible to pass over these mountains with our canoes and cargoes,I should have answered, `Decidedly not!'"
"And yet you were so foolish and reckless as to be the first tovolunteer for this decidedly impossible expedition!" replied Stanley.
"There you are inconsistent," said Mrs Stanley, smiling. "If reckless,I cannot be foolish, according to your own showing; for I have heard yougive it as your opinion that recklessness is one of the most essentialelements in the leaders of a forlorn hope. But really the thing doesseem to my ignorant mind impossible.--What think you, Eda?"
Mrs Stanley bent down and looked into the face of her child, but shereceived no reply. The expanded eyes, indeed, spoke volumes; and theparted lips, on which played a fitful, exulting smile, the heightenedcolour, and thick-coming breath, told eloquently of her anticipateddelight in these new regions, which seemed so utterly different from theshores of the bay: but her tongue was mute.
And well might Mrs Stanley think the passage over these mountainsimpossible; for, except to men accustomed to canoe travelling in theAmerican lakes and rivers, such an attempt would have appeared ashopeless as the passage of a ship through the ice-locked polar seas inwinter.
Not so thought the men. Already several of the most active of them wer
escrambling up the cliffs with heavy loads on their backs; and, whileStanley and his wife were yet conversing, two of them approachedrapidly, bearing the large canoe on their shoulders. The exclamationthat issued from the foremost of these proved him to be Bryan.
"Now, bad luck to ye, Gaspard! can't ye go stidy? It's mysilf that'llbe down on me blissid nose av ye go staggerin' about in that fashion.Sure it's Losh, the spalpeen, that would carry the canoe better thanyou."
Gaspard made no reply. Bryan staggered on, growling as he went, and inanother minute they were hid from view among the bushes.
"What do you see, Frank?" inquired Stanley; "you stare as earnestly asBryan did at the white bear last week. What is't, man? Speak!"
"A fish," replied Frank. "I saw him rise in the pool, and I'm certainhe's a very large one."
"Very likely, Frank; there ought to be a fish of some sort there. I'vebeen told--hist! there he's again. As I live, a salmon! a salmon,Frank! Now for your rod, my boy."
But Frank heard him not, for he was gone. In a few minutes he returnedwith a fishing-rod, which he was busily engaged in putting up as hehurried towards the rocks beside the pool.
Now, Frank Morton was a fisher. We do not mean to say that he was afisher by profession; nor do we merely affirm that he was rather fond ofthe gentle art of angling, or generally inclined to take a cast when hehappened to be near a good stream. By no means. Frank was more thanthat implies. He was a steady, thorough-going disciple of Izaak Walton;one who, in the days of his boyhood, used to flee to the water-side atall seasons, in all weathers, and despite all obstacles. Not only wasit his wont to fish when he could, or how he could, but too often was hebeguiled to fish at times and in ways that were decidedly improper;sometimes devoting those hours which were set apart expressly for theacquirement of Greek and Latin, to wandering by mountain stream or tarn,rod in hand, up to the knees in water, among the braes and woodlands ofhis own native country. And Frank's enthusiasm did not depend entirelyon his success. It was a standing joke among his school-fellows thatFrank would walk six miles any day for the chance of a nibble from theghost of a minnow. Indeed he was often taunted by his ruder comradeswith being such a keen fisher that he was quite content if he onlyhooked a drowned cat during a day's excursion. But Frank wasgood-natured; he smiled at their jests, and held on the even tenor ofhis way, whipping the streams more pertinaciously than his masterwhipped _him_ for playing truant; content alike to bear ignominy andchastisement, so long as he was rewarded by a nibble, and overjoyedbeyond expression when he could return home with the tail of atwo-pounder hanging over the edge of his basket. Far be it from us tohold up to ridicule the weakness of a friend, but we cannot help addingthat Master Frank made the most of his tails. His truthful and manlynature, indeed, would not stoop to actual deception, but he had beenknown on more than one occasion to offer to carry a friend's waterprooffishing-boots in his basket, when his doing so rendered it impossible toprevent the tails of his trout from protruding arrogantly, as if toinsinuate that there were shoals within. Another of Frank's weaknesseswas, upon the hooking of every fish, to assert, with overweeningconfidence and considerable excitement, that it was a tremendously bigone. Experience had, during all his piscatorial career, contradictedhim ninety-nine times out of every hundred; but Frank's firm belief inhis last minnow being a big trout--at least until it lay gasping on thebank at his feet--was as unshaken after long years of mistakencalculation as when first he sallied forth to the babbling brook with awillow branch, a fathom of twine, and a crooked pin!
Such untiring devotion, of course, could not fail to make Frankparticularly knowing in all the details and minutiae of his much-lovedsport. He knew every hole and corner of the rivers and burns withinfifteen miles of his father's house. He became mysteriously wise inregard to the weather; knew precisely the best fly for any given day,and, in the event of being unhappily destitute of the proper kind, coulddress one to perfection in ten minutes. As he grew older and taller,and the muscles on his large and well-made limbs began to develop, Frankslung a more capacious basket on his back, shouldered a heavier rod,and, with a pair of thick shoes and a home-spun shooting suit, stretchedaway over the Highland hills towards the romantic shores of the westcoast of Scotland. Here he first experienced the wild excitement ofsalmon-fishing; and here the Waltonian chains, that had been twining andthickening around him from infancy, received two or three additionalcoils, and were finally riveted for ever. During his sojourn inAmerica, he had happened to dwell in places where the fishing, thoughgood, was not of a very exciting nature; and he had not seen a salmonsince the day he left home, so that it is not matter for wonder that hisstride was rapid and his eye bright while he hurried towards the pool,as before mentioned.
He who has never left the beaten tracks of men, or trod the unknownwilderness, can have but a faint conception of the feelings of a trueangler as he stands by the brink of a dark pool which has hithertoreflected only the antlers of the wild deer--whose dimpling eddies andflecks of foam have been disturbed by no fisher since the world began,except the polar bear. Besides the pleasurable emotions of strong hope,there is the additional charm of uncertainty as to what will rise, andof certainty that if there be anything piscatine beneath thesefascinating ripples it undoubtedly _will_ rise--and bite too! Thenthere is the peculiar satisfaction of catching now and then a drop ofspray from, and hearing the thunder of, a cataract, whose free, surgingbound is not yet shackled by the tourist's sentimental description; andthe novelty of beholding one's image reflected in a liquid mirror whosegeographical position is not yet stereotyped on the charts of man. Alasfor these maps and charts! Despite the wishes of scientific geographersand the ignorance of unscientific explorers, we think them far toocomplete already; and we can conceive few things more dreadful orcrushing to the enterprising and romantic spirits of the world than thearrival of that time (if it ever shall arrive) when it shall be saidthat _terra incognita_ exists no longer--when every one of thosefairy-like isles of the southern seas, and all the hidden wonders of thepolar regions, shall be put down, in cold blood, on black and white,exposed profanely on the schoolroom walls, and drummed into the thickheads of wretched little boys who don't want to learn, by theunsympathising hands of dominies who, it may be, care but little whetherthey do or not!
But to return. While Frank stood on the rocks, attaching to the line asalmon-fly which he had selected with much consideration from his book,he raised his eyes once or twice to take a rapid glance at his positionand the capabilities of the place. About fifty yards further up theriver the stream curled round the base of a large rock, and gushed intoa pool which was encircled on all sides by an overhanging wall, exceptwhere the waters issued forth in a burst of foam. Their force, however,was materially broken by another curve, round which they had to sweepere they reached this exit, so that when they rushed into the largerpool below they calmed down at once, and on reaching the point whereFrank stood, assumed that oily, gurgling surface, dimpled all over withlaughing eddies, that suggests irresistibly the idea of fish not onlybeing there, as a matter of course, but being there expressly and solelyfor the purpose of being caught! A little further down, the river tooka slight bend, and immediately after, recurring to its straight course,it dashed down, for a distance of fifty yards, in a tumultuous rapid,which swept into sudden placidity a few hundred yards below. Havingtaken all this in at a glance, Frank dropped the fly into the water andraised his rod to make a cast. In this act he almost broke the rod, tohis amazement; for, instead of whipping the fly lightly out of thewater, he dragged a trout of a pound weight violently up on the bank.
"Bravo!" cried Stanley, laughing heartily at his friend's stare ofmingled wonder and amazement,--"bravo, Frank! I'm no fisher myself, butI've always understood that fish required a little play before beinglanded. However, you have convinced me of my ignorance. I see that theproper way is to toss them over your head! A salmon must be rathertroublesome to toss, but no doubt, with your strong arms,
you'll manageit easily, hey?"
"Why, what an appetite they must have!" replied Frank, answering hisfriend's badinage with a smile. "If the little fellows begin thus, whatwill not the big ones do?"
As he spoke, he disengaged the fish and threw it down, and made the nextcast so rapidly, that if another trout was waiting to play him a similartrick, it must have been grievously disappointed. The line sweptlightly through the air, and the fly fell gently on the stream, where ithad not quivered more than two seconds when the water gurgled around it.The next moment Frank's rod bent like a hoop, and the line flew throughthe rings with whirring rapidity, filling these lonely solitudes for thefirst time with the pleasant "music of the reel." Almost before Frankhad time to take a step in a downward direction, fifty yards were runout, the waters were suddenly cleft, and a salmon sprang like a bar ofburnished silver twice its own height into the air. With a soundingsplash it returned to its native element; but scarcely had its finstouched the water, when it darted towards the bank. Being brought upsuddenly here, it turned at a tangent, and flashed across the poolagain, causing the reel to spin with renewed velocity. Here the fishpaused for a second, as if to collect its thoughts, and then coming,apparently, to a summary determination as to what it meant to do, itbegan steadily to ascend the stream, not, indeed, so rapidly as it haddescended, but sufficiently so to give Frank some trouble, by means ofrapidly winding up, to keep the line tight. Having bored doggedlytowards the head of the rapid, the fish stopped and began to shake itshead passionately, as if indignant at being foiled in its energeticattempts to escape. After a little time, it lay sulkily down at thebottom of the pool, where it defied its persecutor to move it an inch.
"What's to be done now?" asked Stanley, who stood ready to gaff the fishwhen brought near to the bank.
"We must rouse him up," said Frank, as he slowly wound up the line."Just take up a stone and throw it at him."
Stanley looked surprised, for he imagined that such a proceeding wouldfrighten the fish and cause it to snap the line; but seeing that Frankwas in earnest, he did as he was directed. No sooner had the stone sunkthan the startled fish once more dashed across the river; then taking adownward course, it sped like an arrow to the brink of the rough waterbelow. To have allowed the salmon to go down the rapid would have beento lose it, so Frank arrested the spinning of his reel and held on. Fora second or two the rod bent almost in a circle, and the line becamefearfully rigid.
"You'll break it, Frank," cried Stanley, in some anxiety.
"It can't be helped," said Frank, compressing his lips; "he must not godown there. The tackle is new; I think it will hold him."
Fortunately the tackle proved to be very good. The fish was arrested,and after one or two short runs, which showed that its vigour wasabated, it was drawn carefully towards the rocks. As it drew near itrolled over on its side once or twice--an evident sign of being muchexhausted.
"Now, Stanley, be careful," said Frank, as his friend stepped cautiouslytowards the fish and extended the gaff. "I've seen many a fine salmonescape owing to careless gaffing. Don't be in a hurry. Be sure of yourdistance before you strike, and do it quickly. Now, then--there--giveit him! Hurrah!" he shouted, as Stanley passed the iron hook neatlyinto the side of the fish, and lifted it high and dry on the rocks.
The cheer to which Frank gave vent, on this successful termination tothe struggle, was re-echoed heartily by several of the men, who, onpassing the spot with their loads, had paused and become deeplyinterested spectators of the sport.
"Powerful big fish, sir," said Bryan, throwing down his pack and takingup the salmon by the gills. "Twinty pounds at laste, av it's an ounce."
"Scarcely that, Bryan," said Stanley; "but it's not much less, Ibelieve."
"Ah! oui, 'tis ver' pritty. Ver' superb for supper," remarked La Roche.
The little Frenchman was right in saying that it was pretty. Unlike theordinary salmon, it was marked with spots like a trout, its head wassmall and its shoulders plump, while its silvery purity was exceedinglydazzling and beautiful.
"'Tis a Hearne-salmon," said Massan, approaching the group. "I've seedlots o' them on the coast to the south'ard o' this, an' I've no doubtwe'll find plenty o' them at Ungava."
While the men were discussing the merits of the fish, Frank had hookedanother, which, although quite as large, gave him much less trouble toland; and before the men had finished carrying the canoes and goods overthe portage, he had taken three fish out of the same pool. Wishing,however, to try for a larger one nearer the sea, he proceeded to take acast below the rapid.
Meanwhile, La Roche, whose activity had enabled him to carry over hisportion of the cargo long before his comrades, came to the pool whichFrank had just left, and seating himself on a large stone, drew forthhis tobacco-pouch. With a comical leer at the water which had sorecently been deprived of its denizens, he proceeded leisurely to fill apipe.
It is impossible to foresee, and difficult to account for, the actionsof an impulsive human being. La Roche sat down to smoke his pipe, butinstead of smoking it, he started to his feet and whirled it into theriver. This apparently insane action was followed by several others,which, as they were successively performed, gradually unfolded the driftof his intentions. Drawing the knife which hung at his girdle, he wentinto the bushes, whence he quickly returned, dragging after him a largebranch. From this he stripped the leaves and twigs. Fumbling in hispocket for some time, he drew forth a piece of stout cord, about fouryards long, with a cod-hook attached to the end of it. This line hadbeen constructed some weeks before when the canoes were wind-bound at apart of the coast where La Roche, desirous of replenishing the kettle,had made an unsuccessful attempt at sea-fishing. Fastening this line tothe end of his extemporised rod, La Roche proceeded to dress his hook.This he accomplished by means of the feather of a duck which Frank shotthe day before, and a tag from his scarlet worsted belt; and, whenfinished, it had more the appearance of some hideous reptile than a gayfly. However, La Roche surveyed it for a moment or two with anexpression of deep satisfaction, and then, hurrying to the brink of thewater, made a violent heave.
"Oh! cent milles tonnerres!" he exclaimed angrily, as the enormous hookcaught in the leg of his trousers. The large and clumsy barb was deeplyimbedded, so there was no help for it but to use the knife. The secondthrow was more successful, and the hook alighted in the water with asplash that ought to have sent all the fish in the pool away inconsternation. Instead of this, however, no sooner did the reptiletrail upon the stream than a trout dashed at it in such violent hastethat it nearly missed it altogether. As it was, it hooked itself veryslightly, and the excitable Frenchman settled the matter by giving theline a violent tug, in his anxiety to land the fish, that pulled thehook entirely out of its mouth.
"Ah! c'est dommage, ver' great; mais try it encore, my boy," exclaimedthe mortified angler. The next throw, although well accomplished,produced nothing; but at the third attempt, ere the reptile had settledon the water for a second, it was engulfed by a salmon fully six poundsweight, and La Roche's rod was almost drawn out of his grasp.
"Hilloa, Losh! what have ye got there?" exclaimed Bryan, as, withseveral of the men, he approached to where the Frenchman and the salmonstrove in uncertain conflict.
"By the mortial, he's hucked a whale! Out with it, boy, afore it pullsye in!" said the Irishman, running to the rescue.
Just then the salmon gave a pull of more than ordinary vigour, at thesame moment La Roche slipped his foot, and, ere Bryan could lay hold ofhim, fell headlong into the water and disappeared. Bryan's hands hunghelplessly down, his jaw dropped, and his eyes opened wide, as he gazedin mute wonderment at the spot where his friend's toes had vanished.Suddenly he wrenched off his cap and flung it down, and proceeded totear off his coat, preparatory to leaping into the river to the rescue,when his arms were pinioned to his sides by the powerful grip of Massan.
"Come, Bryan," said he, "you know very well that you can't swim; you'donly
make things worse."
"Och! murder! _he_ can't swim neither. Let me go, ye black villain.Thunder an' turf! will ye see the poor lad drownded forenint yer twoeyes?" cried the poor Irishman, as he made violent but unavailingstruggles to get free. But Massan knew that to allow him to escapewould only add to the number requiring to be saved, and as he himselfcould not swim, he saw at once that the only service he could renderunder the circumstances would be to hold the Irishman down. Claspinghim, therefore, as in a vice, he raised his head and gave a shout forhelp that rolled in deep echoes among the overhanging cliffs. Anothershout was uttered at the same instant. Edith, who happened to come upjust as La Roche's head emerged from the water gasping for breath,uttered a wild shriek that made more than one heart among the absenteesleap as they flew to the rescue.
Meanwhile La Roche rose and sank several times in the surges of thepool. His face on these occasions exhibited a mingled expression ofterror and mischievous wildness; for although he could not swim astroke, the very buoyancy of his mercurial temperament seemed partiallyto support him, and a feeling of desperate determination induced him toretain a death-like gripe of the rod, at the end of which the salmonstill struggled. But his strength was fast going, and he sank for thefourth time with a bubbling cry, when a step was heard crashing throughthe adjacent bushes, and Dick Prince sprang down the slope like a deer.He did not pause when the scene burst upon his view, but a smile ofsatisfaction played upon his usually grave face when he saw Edith safeon the banks of the stream. Another spring and an agile bound sent himheadlong into the pool about a yard from the spot where La Roche hadlast sunk. Scarcely had he disappeared when the dog Chimo boundedtowards the scene of action, and, with what intent no one could tell,leaped also into the water. By this time Frank, Stanley, and nearly allthe party had assembled on the bank of the river, ready to renderassistance. In a few seconds they had the satisfaction of seeing DickPrince rise, holding poor La Roche by the collar of his capote with hisleft hand, while he swam vigorously towards the shore with his right.But during the various struggles which had taken place they had beengradually sucked into the stream that flowed towards the lower rapid,and it now became apparent to Prince that his only chance of safety wasin catching hold of the point of rock that formed the first obstructionto the rush of water. Abandoning all effort, therefore, to gain thebank beside him, he swam with the current, but edged towards the shoreas he floated down.
"Hallo! La Roche!" he exclaimed loudly. "Do you hear? do youunderstand me?"
"Ah! oui, vraiment. I not dead yit."
"Then let go that rod and seize my collar, and mind, sink deep in thewater. Show only enough o' your face to breathe with, or I'll drownye."
The Frenchman obeyed to the extent of seizing Dick's collar and sinkingdeep in the water, so as not to overburden his friend; but nothing couldinduce him to quit the rod to which he had clung so long and soresolutely. Prince's arms being now free, one or two powerful strokesplaced him beyond the influence of the strong current, and as he passedthe rocks before mentioned, he seized an overhanging branch of a smallshrub, by which he endeavoured to drag himself ashore. This, however,he found to be impossible, partly owing to the steepness of the shelvingrock, and partly to the fact that Chimo, in his ill-directed attempts toshare in the dangers of his friends, had seized La Roche by the skirtsof the coat in order to prevent himself from going down the stream.Those on shore, on seeing Prince make for the rock, ran towards thespot; but having to make a slight detour round the bend of the river,they did not reach it until he seized the branch, and when Frank, whowas the first, sprang down, the slope to the rescue, he found themstreaming out and waving to and fro in the current, like some monstrousreptile--Dick holding on to the branch with both hands, La Roche holdingon to Dick, Chimo holding on by his teeth to La Roche, and theunfortunate salmon holding on to the line which its half-drowned captorscorned to let go.
A few seconds sufficed to drag them dripping from the stream; and theenergetic little Frenchman no sooner found his feet on solid ground thanhe hauled out his fish and landed it triumphantly with his own hand.
"'Tis a pretty fish, La Roche," said Frank, laughing, as he busiedhimself in taking down his rod, while several of the men assisted DickPrince to wring the water out of his clothes, and others crowded roundLa Roche to congratulate him on his escape--"'tis a pretty fish, but itcost you some trouble to catch it."
"Throuble, indeed!" echoed Bryan, as he sat on a rock smoking his pipe;"troth it's more nor him came to throuble by that same fish: it guve methe throuble o' bein' more nor half choked by Massan."
"Half choked, Bryan! what mean you?" asked Frank.
"Mane? I just mane what I say; an' the raison why's best known tohimself."
A loud peal of laughter greeted Massan's graphic explanation of theforcible manner in which he had prevented the Irishman from throwinghimself into the river.
The party now turned earnestly to the more serious duties of thejourney. Already too much time had been lost in this "playingthemselves with fish," as Stanley expressed it, and it behoved them toembark as speedily as possible. About a mile above the pool which hadnearly proved fatal to La Roche was the head of a series ofinsurmountable rapids, which extended all the way down to the waterfall.Beyond this was a pretty long reach of calm water, up which theyproceeded easily; but as they advanced the current became so strong thatno headway could be made with the paddles, and it was found necessary tosend a party of the men ashore with a long line, by means of which thecanoes were slowly dragged against the current. At length they came toshallow water, which necessitated another portage; and as it was aboutsunset when they reached it, Stanley ordered the tent to be pitched forthe night, and the fire lighted, under the shadow of a stupendousmountain, the rocky sides of which were sprinkled with dwarf pine trees,and partially covered with brush and herbage. Here Edith and her motherdiscovered multitudes of berries, the most numerous being cloud and crowberries; both of which were found to be good, especially the former, anda fragrant dish of these graced the towel that evening at supper.
Thus, day by day, our adventurous travellers penetrated deeper anddeeper into the heart of the wilderness, which became more savage andmountainous as they left the coast. Stanley drew forth his quadrant andcompass, wherewith he guided the party towards their future home. Atnight, after the labour of the day was over, he and Frank would spreadtheir charts in the blaze of the camp fire, and study the positions ofthe land so far as it was laid down; while Edith sat beside her mother,helping her to repair the torn and way-worn habiliments of her husbandand Frank, or listening with breathless interest to the men, as theyrecounted their experiences of life in the different regions throughwhich they had travelled. Many of these tales were more or lesscoloured by the fancy of the narrators, but most of them were founded onfact, and proved an unfailing source of deep interest to the littlechild. Frank's fishing-rod was frequently in requisition, and oftensupplied the party with more than enough of excellent fish; and at everynew bend and turn of the innumerable lakes and rivers through which theypassed, reindeer were seen bounding on the mountain-sides, or trottingdown the ravines to quench their thirst and cool their sides in thewaters; so that food was abundant, and their slender stock of provisionshad not to be trenched upon, while the berries that grew luxuriantlyeverywhere proved a grateful addition to their store. Thus, day by day,they slowly retreated farther and farther from the world of mankind--living in safety under the protection of the Almighty, and receiving thedaily supply of all their necessities from His fatherly and bountifulhand; thus, day by day, they rose with the sun, and lay down at night torest upon the mountain's side or by the river's bank; and thus, day byday, they penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of the unknownwilderness.