The Trapper's Son Part 5

"I have white friends who love me, and have treated me kindly; I should be loath not to see them again. And there is my white father, who may come for me, and I am bound to follow him," answered Laurence.

"Your white friends and your white father cannot care for you as we do.

Your heart cannot be so hardened towards those who brought you up as to wish again to quit them."

Much more his old nurse said in the same strain. Laurence thought of all the kindness he had received from Mrs Ramsay. He was very unwilling also to part from little Jeanie; but old feelings revived within him, the new principles which he had of late heard in the fort had taken no strong hold of him, and he became once more the wild Indian boy of former years.

The chief sent for him, and used further powerful arguments to induce him to remain. Laurence at length promised to continue with his old friends, unless his father should claim him; but he begged first to be allowed to go back to the fort to bid farewell to his white friends.

The wily Sioux had had no intention of losing altogether the share of the prized articles which he supposed the fort to contain. He consented, therefore, to allow Laurence to return, on condition that he would obtain from the white chief, as he called Mr Ramsay, a certain number of guns, ammunition, blankets, knives, and numerous other things which he named.

"If he sends them, we will be his friends; but if not, we shall know that he looks upon us as enemies, and we will take by force what we now only ask as a gift."

Laurence, accompanied by a small band of Sioux, set out as the bearer of this message to the fort. The Indians remained outside while he made his way to the gates. He was welcomed warmly by Mr Ramsay. He was thankful to find that the train with the provisions had arrived, and that several of the hunters had also made their way round by the north into the fort, with two bears and several deer and other animals.

Mr Ramsay, notwithstanding this, wis.h.i.+ng to establish, if possible, friendly relations with the Sioux, agreed to send the articles the chief demanded as a gift, though he still thought it prudent not to put himself or any of his people in their power.

"You and your red-skinned friends who have come with you shall, therefore, convey them to the chief, and you will then return and remain with us. I wish to show you how much I value the service you have rendered us; for had the Sioux a.s.sailed the fort--as not only had the provisions, but our ammunition run short--they very probably would have entered and put every one within to death."

Laurence hung down his head. "I should like to remain, sir," he said, "but I have promised to return, and live with the Sioux, unless my father comes for me. I am at home with them, and know all their ways, and shall become some day, so they say, a great chief among them."

"Their ways, I fear, are bad ways," said Mr Ramsay. "And though I cannot tell you to break your promise, you will, I am sure, some day grieve bitterly that you made it. However, go in and see Mrs Ramsay and Jeanie. You would not wish to go without bidding them farewell."

"I dare not face them; they might make my heart melt," answered Laurence, doubting his own resolution; but Mr Ramsay led him to the house.

Jeanie burst into tears when she heard of his intentions. "Oh, Laurence, and can you, after you have heard about Jesus, have been told of His love, and how He wishes you to be ready to go and live with Him for ever and ever, in glory and happiness, again go back to dwell among heathen savages, who do all sorts of things contrary to His will, merely for the sake of enjoying what you call liberty for a few short years, and thus risk the loss of your soul?" said Mrs Ramsay, taking him kindly by the hand.

"The Sioux, in their dark ignorance, may wish you well, so far as this world is concerned, though the life they would induce you to lead is full of danger and hards.h.i.+ps; but here you have friends, who desire not only to benefit your mind and body, but to show you how you may obtain blessings which no earthly power can take away, and which will endure throughout eternity. Think of that, Laurence. Would you barter your soul for the sake of a few years of wild excitement, and what you suppose to be enjoyment, and die as a poor ignorant savage, forgetting G.o.d and His mercy and loving-kindness, as shown to us in giving His Son to die for our sins, that we may be received again as favoured children, to live with Him in unspeakable happiness for ever and ever?"

"But if I become a warrior, and die bravely fighting, I shall go to the happy hunting-grounds with my Indian friends," answered Laurence.

It was too evident that all which had been said to the poor lad had fallen upon barren ground. Laurence was still a heathen.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE LIFE OF LAURENCE AMONG THE INDIANS--SHOOTING THE BUFFALO--THE HUNTERS' CAMP AND FEAST--LAURENCE IN THE WOOD--THE SIOUX HUNTERS SHOT BY CREES--LAURENCE LIES CONCEALED--HIS FIRST PRAYER--Pa.s.sES A FEARFUL NIGHT--HIS ENCAMPMENT ATTACKED BY WOLVES--JOURNEY OVER THE SNOW--FALLS INTO A SNOW-DRIFT.

Laurence was once more with his Indian friends. They were delighted with the presents they had received, and he found himself treated with respect and attention by all the tribe. A horse and arms were provided for him; he was clothed in a dress of skins, ornamented with feathers and beads, and was looked upon as the son of their chief. Still he could not forget the kindness he had received at the fort, and he very often regretted that he had been persuaded by the Sioux to abandon his white friends. Mr Ramsay would, he knew, inform his father where he had gone, should he return to the fort. He sometimes hoped that the old trapper would come and claim him, although the life he was compelled to lead with him was even harder and more full of danger than his present existence with the Sioux.

The tribe had moved to a considerable distance from the fort, where they again took up their winter quarters. Hence they sent out parties of hunters to capture buffalo, which, in small herds, pasture, even while the snow lies on the ground, by digging beneath it to reach the dry gra.s.s. Laurence, whose mind was ill at ease, endeavoured to banish thought by joining on every opportunity these expeditions. They were, he knew, full of danger. Sometimes the powerful buffalo would turn on their a.s.sailants, and broken limbs and wounds, and not unfrequently death, was the consequence. Snow storms might come on, and before the shelter of a wood could be gained horses and men might be overwhelmed.

They were also on the borders of the country of the Crees, the deadly enemies of the Sioux, who would without fail put to death any who might fall into their hands. In the summer, when large herds of buffaloes appear, the hunters, on swift horses, and armed with rifle, or bows and sharp arrows, gallop fearlessly in among them, shooting them down, again managing dexterously to extricate themselves from amid the concourse of animals. Sometimes also a large enclosure is formed with a narrow entrance, and having a road lined with trees leading to it, broad at the outer end, and gradually decreasing in width towards the mouth of the pound. The hunters, forming a wide semicircle in the distance, drive the animals towards it, while people with flags stationed on either side of the road prevent the buffalo breaking through, which are thus induced to rush on till they become entrapped in the pound, where they are shot down with bullets or arrows. In the winter, however, buffaloes can only be approached by stalking, the hunter creeping cautiously on till he gets within range of his victim. Sometimes also a cruel stratagem is employed.

Laurence had gone out with three hunters on horseback. They had proceeded a considerable distance without meeting any animals; still, eager to obtain some meat, of which the camp was greatly in want, they pushed onwards. At length they descried, in the far distance to the north, several buffalo feeding near the banks of a broad stream. As they approached, they discovered that they were cows, and had two young buffaloes among them. The wary animals had espied them, and were making slowly off. Each of the hunters carried on his saddle the skin of an animal with the hair on. Laurence had that of a young buffalo calf, as also had one of the others, while the remaining two were provided with skins of wolves. Securing their horses to some trees near the banks of the river, the hunters covered their backs with the skins. Trailing their rifles along the ground, Laurence and his companion with the calf skin cautiously crept towards the buffalo, while the men in wolves'

clothing followed at a distance. As they advanced, the animals stopped to watch them, uncertain what they were. Thus they were enabled to make their way towards the generally cautious monsters of the prairie. The seeming wolves now crept on at faster speed, when the buffaloes, believing that some of their young were in danger of destruction from the savage foes they were accustomed to dread, dashed forward to rescue them. The wolves now hastened on, and made as if they were about to spring on the calves. As the buffaloes rushed up, the hunters sprang to their feet, and firing at the heads of the confiding and faithful animals, brought three of them to the ground. The rest, astonished at finding themselves face to face with human foes, turning round, bellowing with rage, galloped away. The unfortunate animals were quickly despatched with the hunters' knives. The bodies were then dragged by the horses to the wood which bordered the stream. As much of the meat as the horses could carry was then packed, ready to be transported to the camp the following morning, while the remainder was hung up on the higher branches of the neighbouring trees. The hunters next lighted a fire, putting up a screen of birch bark to keep off the wind, while they sat down to regale themselves on the humps and other prize portions of the animals. Here, while their horses were left to pick up their food from beneath the snow, the hardy hunters purposed, without seek any other shelter, to pa.s.s the night.

The sky had been for some time overcast, and snow began to fall heavily; but their fire blazed up brightly, and as they sat close round it, enjoying its warmth, they cared little for the thick flakes which pa.s.sed by them. Steak after steak of the buffalo meat disappeared, as they sat eating and boasting of their deeds of war and the chase, and fully giving themselves up to savage enjoyment.

Laurence listened to their tales, wondering whether he should ever perform similar brave deeds. Unaccustomed for so long to the ways of his wild companions, he had soon satisfied his hunger, and in spite of the fire, feeling the cold severely, he had gone a short distance into the wood to bring some large pieces of birch-bark with which he could form an additional shelter for himself, by putting up a small wigwam.

Having found the pieces of bark, he was on the point of returning when the sharp report of several rifles rang through the air, and looking towards the fire, he saw two of his companions stretched on the ground, while the other was in vain struggling to rise. A fierce yell followed, and directly afterwards the light of the fire fell on a party of Cree warriors, who came springing out of the darkness towards the spot. He stopped to see no more, but, urged by the instinct of self-preservation, he made his way through the wood till he reached a thick ma.s.s of bushes, into the midst of which he threw himself, in the hopes that he might escape the search of the savages. He lay there, expecting every instant to be discovered, and put to death. He could hear the shouts of the victors as they hastily partook of the feast prepared by those they had slaughtered, and having caught their horses, loaded them with the buffalo meat. He judged by the sounds of their voices that his enemies were moving from the spot; and as they got further and further away, he began to entertain the hope of escape. Still fearing that they might come back, he dared not move. He felt very cold and wretched, yet the horror of the scene he had witnessed kept him from going to sleep. Poor Laurence, as he lay there almost frozen to death, not for the first time perhaps repented of his folly in having quitted the protection of his kind friends in the fort. The recollection, too, of the many things Mrs Ramsay and Jeanie had said to him came back to his mind.

"I wonder if I was to pray to the great G.o.d they told me of, He would take care of me, and lead me back to them," he thought. "They told me He hears prayers, and would listen to those which so careless and foolish a boy as I have been may make to Him; but then they said I must pray through Jesus Christ; that He is good and merciful, and loves me, and died for me too. I am sure they spoke the truth, for they would not deceive me; and so I'll pray through Jesus Christ, and ask G.o.d to protect me; for I am sure I shall never get back to the camp of the Sioux by myself without my horse, and that, of course, the Crees have carried off."

Poor Laurence did pray with all his heart, ignorant half-heathen that he was in many respects.

He soon fell asleep, and the snow came down and nearly covered up the bushes among which he lay. He awoke at length, finding a thick canopy over him, which, had he not been well clothed in furs, would probably have formed his shroud. He easily made his way out.

The spot where the fire had been was covered with snow. He could distinguish the bodies of his companions beneath it, but he dared not disturb them. Some of the buffalo meat which the Crees had not discovered still hung on the trees; he loaded himself with as much as he could carry, and then hastened away from the fatal spot. At first he thought of attempting to reach the camp of the Sioux, but it was a long distance off, and all the tracks had disappeared. So had those of the Crees. Should they be on the watch for their enemies, he would very probably fall into their hands. Then, again, the desire to be once more with his friends at the fort came strong upon him; but how could he hope to reach it across miles and miles of snow? It was somewhere away to the north-east, that was all he knew; and although the son was gaining power when the sky was bright, the wind often blew bitterly cold at night. Yet to stay where he was would be certain death, and so the hardy boy, making up his mind to try and reach the fort, and trusting to his strength and courage, began his hazardous journey.

He had lived among the Indians long enough to learn something of their cunning; and as he went along he stripped off from his dress all the ornaments and other signs which might show that they had been manufactured by the Sioux, and hid them away in a hole beneath the snow.

He had a tinder-box and powder-horn in his pouch, so that he was able to light a fire. As night approached, he made his way towards a wood, near the bank of a stream, where he could procure fuel. Here he built himself a hut with birch-bark, banking it up thickly with snow. He had not forgotten the fate of his companions on the previous night; but he hoped that the Crees were by this time far away, and he knew that, without a fire, he should run the risk of being destroyed by wolves prowling about. He therefore made it inside the hut, where it was also well sheltered from the wind, and he hoped that the light would not be seen at a distance; his chief fear was that, should he sleep too long it might go out. Closing the entrance of his hut with a sheet of bark, he made up his fire, and sat down to sup on a piece of meat which he cooked before it. There was but little s.p.a.ce in his hut to allow him to go to sleep without the risk of burning his clothes, though he had drawn himself as far away from it as he could, and leaned back against the wall of the hut. Fatigue at length, however, overcame his desire to keep on the alert.

He was awoke by hearing a wild howling around him: he knew the sound full well; it was that of a pack of wolves. His fire had almost gone out; he hurriedly sc.r.a.ped the embers together, and drew in from the front of the hut some fuel which he had kept in store. The voices of the wolves came nearer and nearer. He had just time to light a bundle of sticks when he heard the savage animals close to his hut. He boldly went out and waved his torch around, shouting and shrieking with all his might. The wolves, alarmed at the sudden glare of the light and the sound of a human voice, took to flight. He once more closed the entrance of his hut and sat down. It did not occur to him that it was his duty to return thanks to G.o.d for his deliverance. He fancied that it was his cleverness and boldness that had saved him. He had been ready to ask that unknown Great Spirit to preserve him. How many daily receive blessings from the Giver of all good, and yet ungratefully forget to acknowledge them and refuse to do His will!

Fear of the wolves prevented Laurence from sleeping soundly, and he started up constantly, expecting to hear their savage howlings.

Daylight came at last, and he once more pushed forward over the snow.

He had cooked a piece of buffalo meat, which he ate beneath the shelter of a bank, when he saw the sun high in the sky. It restored his strength for a time; but as night again approached he felt far more weary than on the previous day. He built a hut as before, and lighted a fire, and scarcely had he eaten his supper before he dropped off to sleep. He awoke, feeling very cold, though somewhat refreshed; and great was his surprise to find the sun already high in the sky. He had been preserved from danger during the hours of darkness; but, alas! he did not kneel down to pray, but thought only that it was very fortunate the wolves had not come near him, and he hoped to have the same good luck, so he called it, the next night.

"I daresay I shall be able to reach the fort, notwithstanding my fears, in a few days," he said to himself. "I must try to avoid the Crees, though; but I fancy that I am clever enough to do that."

He trudged bravely on, hour after hour. The sky was clear, and the sun enabled him to direct his course with tolerable accuracy. Still his feet, inured though he was to fatigue, felt very weary, and he longed to arrive at the end of his journey. Sometimes he regretted that he had not tried to make his way to the Sioux camp; he might have reached it sooner. No wood was in sight, where he might build his hut and light a fire as usual for the night. He gnawed, as he walked on, a piece of the hard frozen meat, a small portion of which now only remained. Still he was afraid to stop.

A level plain, covered with snow, lay before him; he looked around in vain for some sheltering hill or wood. The sun was sinking low on his left. He must try, before darkness set in, to make his way across that wide plain. He did his utmost to exert his remaining strength.

Darkness at last came on. He fancied he could distinguish a wood and a range of hills in the distance. He would make a desperate effort to reach it. Suddenly he found himself sinking in the snow. He struggled to get out, but sank lower and lower. He had fallen into a gully or water-course, now filled up by drift-snow. At length, finding his efforts vain, he gave himself up for lost, every moment expecting that the snow wreath would overwhelm him. As he lay there, he could see the stars come out and s.h.i.+ne brightly over his head, and thus he knew that there was an opening above him; but he was afraid to move lest he might bring the snow down upon his head. Sheltered from the wind, he felt tolerably warm, and at last, in spite of his perilous position, he fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

LAURENCE IN THE SNOW--DISCOVERED BY CREES--RESCUED--CONVEYED TO THE CHIEF'S TENT--KINDNESS OF THE OLD CHIEF--ESCORTED TO THE FORT--FEARS AS TO HIS RECEPTION--KINDLY WELCOMED BY MR. RAMSAY--LAURENCE AGAIN FALLS SICK--MRS. RAMSAY EXPLAINS THE GOSPEL TO HIM--LAURENCE BEGINS TO UNDERSTAND IT.

Daylight came again. Laurence, on opening his eyes, found himself surrounded by a high wall of snow. He was hungry, but he had consumed every particle of food. His strength was almost gone. He somewhat a.s.suaged his thirst by eating a little snow, though that gave him but momentary relief. Again he made an attempt to get out, hoping by beating down the snow to form steps in the side of the wall up which he might climb, but the snow came sliding down in vast ma.s.ses upon him, and by the time he had struggled out of it he felt so weak that he was unable to make any further effort. With a cry of despair he fell back on the heap which had been formed by the snow slipping down, and out of which he had just made his way. For some minutes he was unconscious.

Then the barking of dogs once more aroused him. The sound of human voices struck his ear. He listened with breathless anxiety to hear the language they spoke. They drew near. "I am lost if they find me," he said to himself. "They are Crees." Directly afterwards, several dogs poked their noses over the edge of the pit and barked to attract the attention of their masters. He waited, expecting in a few minutes to be put to death. Then, casting his eyes upwards, he saw the faces of two savages looking down upon him. He knew them at once to be Crees. He tried to speak--not to ask their pity, for that he believed would be useless, but, after the Indian fas.h.i.+on, to dare them to do their worst.

His tongue, however, refused its office. Presently he saw them beginning to sc.r.a.pe away the snow; and as they commenced at the top, they were soon able to form some rough steps in the side of the pit, down which one of them descended. Laurence closed his eyes, expecting to have the scalp cut from his head. Instead of that the Cree lifted him in his arms, and, with the a.s.sistance of his companion, soon brought him to the surface. Making a wide circuit, to avoid the gully, together they bore him across the plain. They were directing their course towards some lodges which were erected close to a wood, and under the shelter of a high hill. On reviving, Laurence found himself in a large roomy hut, by the side of a fire, near which sat a tall Indian somewhat advanced in years. A squaw was chafing his feet, while another, bending over the fire, was cooking a mess of broth. She soon came round to him, and poured some of the warm mixture down his throat, which greatly revived him. He tried to sit up, but again fell back on the pile of skins on which his head had been resting.

"Do not try to move, young pale face," said the chief. "Your strength has gone for a while, but the Great Spirit will soon restore it. You shall then tell me whence you come, and how you happened to be where my sons found you. We are friends of the pale faces, and would gladly aid you to the best of our power."

These words greatly revived Laurence's spirits. The chief, however, insisted on not letting him speak until he had taken some rest. The kind squaw had put on his feet some warm dry socks, and then began chafing his hands, and in a short time he again fell asleep.

When Laurence awoke there was no one in the tent. This gave him time to consider what he should say. He would speak truly, and tell the Cree chief that he wished to make his way to the fort, and would be grateful to him if he would a.s.sist him in reaching it. He soon found, however, when he attempted to rise, that he was utterly unable to do so. The chief smiled when he heard his account.

"You speak but partly the truth," he said. "Still, you are a pale face, and I regard the pale faces with affection. When you are restored to strength I'll conduct you thither; for it is some way off, and unaided, without horses, or weapons to defend yourself or obtain food, you would not have been able to find your way there. I know with whom you have been, though you have pulled off the ornaments. That dress was manufactured by the Sioux. However, though you were foolish to consort with such people, you are wisely making your escape from them. So speak no more about it."

Laurence felt ashamed of himself at having been so easily detected. He at once acknowledged that the chief was right in his conjectures.

For several days he was kept in the tent of the friendly chief, and treated by his squaws as if he had been a son. When he had sufficiently recovered to sit on horseback, the chief, covering him with a thick cloak of furs, set out with a party of his people towards the fort.

Even although they formed a strong party, as it was possible that bands of Sioux might attack them, scouts were sent out in all directions to feel their way as they advanced.