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At length he spoke. "Yes," said he; "I would give much to meet with the man who tried to save her. I saw him do it twice; but the devils about him were too eager to be balked of their prey."
Charley and the Indian exchanged glances. "That Indian's name," said the former, "was _Redfeather_!"
"What!" exclaimed the trapper, jumping to his feet, and grasping Redfeather, who had also risen, by the two shoulders, stared wildly into his face; "was it you that did it?"
Redfeather smiled, and held out his hand, which the other took and wrung with an energy that would have extorted a cry of pain from any one but an Indian. Then dropping it suddenly and clinching his hands, he exclaimed:--
"I said that I would like to meet the villain who killed her--yes, I said it in pa.s.sion, when your words had roused all my old feelings again; but I am thankful--I bless G.o.d that I did not know this sooner-- that you did not tell me of it when I was at the camp, for I verily believe that I would not only have fixed _him_, but half the warriors o'
your tribe too, before they had settled _me_!"
It need scarcely be added that the friends.h.i.+p which already subsisted between Jacques and Redfeather was now doubly cemented; nor will it create surprise when we say that the former, in the fullness of his heart, and from sheer inability to find adequate outlets for the expression of his feelings, offered Redfeather in succession all the articles of value he possessed, even to his much-loved rifle, and was seriously annoyed at their not being accepted. At last he finished off by a.s.suring the Indian that he might look out for him soon at the missionary settlement, where he meant to stay with him evermore in the capacity of hunter, fisherman, and jack-of-all-trades to the whole clan.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE SCENE CHANGES--BACHELOR'S HALL--A PRACTICAL JOKE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES--A SNOW-SHOE WALK AT NIGHT IN THE FOREST.
Leaving Charley to pursue his adventurous career among the Indians, we will introduce our reader to a new scene, and follow for a time the fortunes of our friend Harry Somerville. It will be remembered that we left him labouring under severe disappointment at the idea of having to spend a year, it might be many years, at the depot, and being condemned to the desk, instead of realising his fond dreams of bear-hunting and deer-stalking in the woods and prairies.
It was now the autumn of Harry's second year at York Fort. This period of the year happens to be the busiest at the depot, in consequence of the preparation of the annual accounts for transmission to England, in the solitary s.h.i.+p which visits this lonely spot once a year; so that Harry was tied to his desk all day and the greater part of the night too, till his spirits fell infinitely below zero, and he began to look on himself as the most miserable of mortals. His spirits rose, however, with amazing rapidity after the s.h.i.+p went away, and the "young gentlemen," as the clerks were styled _en ma.s.se_, were permitted to run wild in the swamps and woods for the three weeks succeeding that event.
During this glimpse of suns.h.i.+ne they recruited their exhausted frames by paddling about all day in Indian canoes, or wandering through the marshes, sleeping at nights in tents or under the pine trees, and spreading dismay among the feathered tribes, of which there were immense numbers of all kinds. After this they returned to their regular work at the desk; but as this was not so severe as in summer, and was further lightened by Wednesdays and Sat.u.r.days being devoted entirely to recreation, Harry began to look on things in a less gloomy aspect, and at length regained his wonted cheerful spirits.
Autumn pa.s.sed away. The ducks and geese took their departure to more genial climes. The swamps froze up and became solid. Snow fell in great abundance, covering every vestige of vegetable nature, except the dark fir trees, that only helped to render the scenery more dreary, and winter settled down upon the land. Within the pickets of York Fort, the thirty or forty souls who lived there were actively employed in cutting their firewood, putting in double window-frames to keep out the severe cold, cutting tracks in the snow from one house to another, and otherwise preparing for a winter of eight months duration, as cold as that of Nova Zembla, and in the course of which the only new faces they had any chance of seeing were those of the two men who conveyed the annual winter packet of letters from the next station. Outside of the fort all was a wide, waste wilderness for _thousands_ of miles around.
Deathlike stillness and solitude reigned everywhere, except when a covey of ptarmigan whirred like large snowflakes athwart the sky, or an arctic fox prowled stealthily through the woods in search of prey.
As if in opposition to the gloom and stillness and solitude outside, the interior of the clerks' house presented a striking contrast of ruddy warmth, cheerful sounds, and bustling activity.
It was evening; but although the sun had set, there was still sufficient daylight to render candles unnecessary, though not enough to prevent a bright glare from the stove in the centre of the hall taking full effect in the darkening chamber, and making it glow with fiery red. Harry Somerville sat in front, and full in the blaze of this stove, resting after the labours of the day; his arms crossed on his breast, his head a little to one side, as if in deep contemplation, as he gazed earnestly into the fire, and his chair tilted on its hind legs so as to balance with such nicety that a feather's weight additional outside its centre of gravity would have upset it. He had divested himself of his coat--a practice that prevailed among the young gentlemen when _at home_, as being free-and-easy as well as convenient. The doctor, a tall, broad-shouldered man, with red hair and whiskers, paced the room sedately, with a long pipe depending from his lips, which he removed occasionally to address a few remarks to the accountant, a stout, heavy man of about thirty, with a voice like a Stentor, eyes sharp and active as those of a ferret, and a tongue that moved with twice the ordinary amount of lingual rapidity. The doctor's remarks seemed to be particularly humorous, if one might judge from the peals of laughter with which they were received by the accountant, who stood with his back to the stove in such a position that, while it warmed him from his heels to his waist, he enjoyed the additional benefit of the pipe or chimney, which rose upwards, parallel with his spine, and, taking a sudden bend near the roof, pa.s.sed over his head--thus producing a genial and equable warmth from top to toe.
"Yes," said the doctor, "I left him hotly following up a rabbit-track, in the firm belief that it was that of a silver fox."
"And did you not undeceive the greenhorn?" cried the accountant, with another shout of laughter.
"Not I," replied the doctor. "I merely recommended him to keep his eye on the sun, lest he should lose his way, and hastened home; for it just occurred to me that I had forgotten to visit Louis Blanc, who cut his foot with an axe yesterday, and whose wound required redressing, so I left the poor youth to learn from experience."
"Pray, who did you leave to that delightful fate?" asked Mr Wilson, issuing from his bedroom and approaching the stove.
Mr Wilson was a middle-aged, good-humoured, active man, who filled the onerous offices of superintendent of the men, trader of furs, seller of goods to the Indians, and general factotum.
"Our friend Hamilton," answered the doctor, in reply to his question.
"I think he is, without exception, the most egregious nincomp.o.o.p I ever saw. Just as I pa.s.sed the long swamp on my way home, I met him cras.h.i.+ng through the bushes in hot pursuit of a rabbit, the track of which he mistook for a fox. Poor fellow! he had been out since breakfast, and only shot a brace of ptarmigan, although they are as thick as bees and quite tame. `But then, do you see,' said he, in excuse, `I'm so very short-sighted! Would you believe it, I've blown fifteen lumps of snow to atoms, in the belief that they were ptarmigan!' and then he rushed off again."
"No doubt," said Mr Wilson, smiling, "the lad is very green, but he's a good fellow for all that."
"I'll answer for that," said the accountant; "I found him over at the men's houses this morning doing _your_ work for you, doctor."
"How so?" inquired the disciple of Aesculapius.
"Attending to your wounded man, Louis Blanc, to be sure; and he seemed to speak to him as wisely as if he had walked the hospitals, and regularly pa.s.sed for an M.D."
"Indeed!" said the doctor, with a mischievous grin. "Then I must pay him off for interfering with my patients."
"Ah, doctor, you're too fond of practical jokes. You never let slip an opportunity of `paying off' your friends for something or other. It's a bad habit. Practical jokes are very bad things--shockingly bad," said Mr Wilson, as he put on his fur cap, and wound a thick shawl round his throat, preparatory to leaving the room.
As Mr Wilson gave utterance to this opinion, he pa.s.sed Harry Somerville, who was still staring at the fire in deep mental abstraction, and, as he did so, gave his tilted chair a very slight push backwards with his finger--an action which caused Harry to toss up his legs, grasp convulsively with both hands at empty air, and fall with a loud noise and an angry yell to the ground, while his persecutor vanished from the scene.
"O you outrageous villain!" cried Harry, shaking his fist at the door, as he slowly gathered himself up: "I might have expected that."
"Quite so," said the doctor; "you might. It was very neatly done, undoubtedly. Wilson deserves credit for the way in which it was executed."
"He deserves to be executed for doing it at all," replied Harry, rubbing his elbow as he resumed his seat.
"Any bark knocked off?" inquired the accountant, as he took a piece of glowing charcoal from the stove wherewith to light his pipe. "Try a whiff, Harry. It's good for such things. Bruises, sores, contusions, sprains, rheumatic affections of the back and loins, carbuncles, and earache--there's nothing that smoking won't cure; eh, doctor?"
"Certainly. If applied inwardly, there's nothing so good for digestion when one doesn't require tonics.--Try it, Harry; it will do you good, I a.s.sure you."
"No, thank you," replied Harry; "I'll leave that to you and the chimney.
I don't wish to make a soot-bag of my mouth. But tell me, doctor, what do you mean to do with that lump of snow there?"
Harry pointed to a ma.s.s of snow, of about two feet square, which lay on the floor beside the door. It had been placed there by the doctor some time previously.
"Do with it? Have patience, my friend, and you shall see. It is a little surprise I have in store for Hamilton."
As he spoke, the door opened, and a short, square-built man rushed into the room, with a pistol in one hand and a bright little bullet in the other.
"Hullo, skipper!" cried Harry, "what's the row?"
"All right," cried the skipper; "here it is at last, solid as the fluke of an anchor. Toss me the powder-flask, Harry; look sharp, else it'll melt."
A powder-flask was immediately produced, from which the skipper hastily charged the pistol, and rammed down the s.h.i.+ning bullet.
"Now then," said he, "look out for squalls. Clear the decks there."
And rus.h.i.+ng to the door, he flung it open, took a steady aim at something outside, and fired.
"Is the man mad?" said the accountant, as with a look of amazement he beheld the skipper spring through the doorway, and immediately return, bearing in his arms a large piece of fir plank.
"Not quite mad yet," he said, in reply, "but I've sent a ball of quicksilver through an inch plank, and that's not a thing to be done every day--even _here_, although it _is_ cold enough sometimes to freeze up one's very ideas."
"Dear me," interrupted Harry Somerville, looking as if a new thought had struck him, "that must be it! I've no doubt that poor Hamilton's ideas are _frozen_, which accounts for the total absence of any indication of his possessing such things."
"I observed," continued the skipper, not noticing the interruption, "that the gla.s.s was down at 45 degrees below zero this morning, and put out a bullet-mould full of mercury, and you see the result." As he spoke he held up the perforated plank in triumph.
The skipper was a strange mixture of qualities. To a wild, offhand, sailor-like hilarity of disposition in hours of leisure, he united a grave, stern energy of character while employed in the performance of his duties. Duty was always paramount with him. A smile could scarcely be extracted from him while it was in the course of performance. But the instant his work was done a new spirit seemed to take possession of the man. Fun, mischief of any kind, no matter how childish, he entered into with the greatest delight and enthusiasm. Among other peculiarities, he had become deeply imbued with a thirst for scientific knowledge, ever since he had acquired, with infinite labour, the small modic.u.m of science necessary to navigation; and his doings in pursuit of statistical information relative to the weather, and the phenomena of nature generally, were very peculiar, and in some cases outrageous. His transaction with the quicksilver was in consequence of an eager desire to see that metal frozen (an effect which takes place when the spirit-of-wine thermometer falls to 39 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit), and a wish to be able to boast of having actually fired a mercurial bullet through an inch plank. Having made a careful note of the fact, with all the relative circ.u.mstances attending it, in a very much blotted book, which he denominated his scientific log, the worthy skipper threw off his coat, drew a chair to the stove, and prepared to regale himself with a pipe. As he glanced slowly round the room while thus engaged, his eye fell on the ma.s.s of snow before alluded to. On being informed by the doctor for what it was intended, he laid down his pipe and rose hastily from his chair.
"You've not a moment to lose," said he. "As I came in at the gate just now, I saw Hamilton coming down the river on the ice, and he must be almost arrived now."