My uncle accordingly expressed his fears to Kepenau.

"Then we must set out to meet your white friend," said the Indian; "for should he be coming over the ice to-day, the wolves are certain to espy him."

Mike had told me that he would visit our Indian friends on the way, and spend the night with them, should he start too late to perform the whole distance in one day. The recollection of this increased my apprehension for his safety.

Kepenau said that he and four of the best-armed of his people would set out early in the afternoon to look for our friend. Of course, we insisted on accompanying them; and being pretty well rested, we started at the hour proposed. We put on our skates, but the Indians kept pace with us by running.

We went on and on, but no sign could we see of Mike. It was already getting dusk when Kepenau stopped and examined the ice.

"A man has passed this way," he said, "and has turned off to the right."

Telling one of his people to follow up the trail, he proceeded onwards, narrowly scrutinising the ice.

"It is as I thought," he observed; "he was coming along on foot when he saw a pack of wolves following him, and instead of continuing on the ice he made his way for the shore, to try and reach a tree into which he could climb—the wisest thing he could do."

Having made this remark, he led the way in the direction the other Indian had taken. He soon overtook him; but as darkness was increasing we had to proceed slowly, so as not to lose the trail, which I was utterly unable to perceive. The banks here were of a low, marshy nature, so that there were few trees about up which the fugitive could have escaped. I did not confidently expect to meet Mike on this occasion, for he, I thought, would have come along on his skates, whereas this person, the Indian said, was on foot.

We had not gone far when Kepenau stopped. "That is the howl of wolves," he observed; "but it is accompanied by a curious sound, and they are not howling in their usual fashion."

Advancing further, I could clearly distinguish the howling of the wolves, accompanied by another sound.

"Why, as I am alive, those are the tones of Mike Laffan's fiddle!" exclaimed Uncle Mark. "He is safe, at all events—that is one comfort; but it is a curious place to be playing in."

Kepenau now told us that the path we were following would lead us to the ruins of an old fort, erected by the early French settlers, and that he had little doubt our friend had found his way to it for refuge from the wolves; but they had followed him, and were certainly not far off.

We hurried on, and as the sounds of the fiddle became more distinct, the full moon rose from behind a dark mass which proved to be a ruined wall of the building; and immediately afterwards, directly in front of us, we discovered Mike Laffan seated on one of the time-worn and rickety beams which had once formed part of the fort. There he was, bow in hand, fiddling with might and main; while below him were a whole pack of wolves, their mouths open, singing an inharmonious chorus to his music. So entranced were they, that the brutes actually did not discover us; nor, so far as we could see, were they making any attempt to reach Mike.

At a sign from Kepenau we stopped; but Mike, though he had perceived us, went on fiddling. Presently he changed the tune to one of extraordinary rapidity: this evidently astonished his vulpine audience, which began to leap about. Suddenly he exclaimed, "Now! shout, friends, shout! and we shall put the spalpeens of wolves to flight." As we raised our voices he made his instrument produce the most fearful shrieks and cries, while he uttered at the same time a true Irish howl.

Mike's plan had the desired effect. The wolves, bewildered by the strange sounds, were seized with terror, and off they scampered like a pack of curs, howling and biting at each other as they rushed along towards the forest, in which they soon disappeared.

Mike on this jumped down from his perch, laughing heartily, and thanked us all for having come to his assistance. Of course, our opportune appearance had very much astonished him; but we soon explained matters, and expressed our hope that he was none the worse for his adventure.

"Sorra a bit," he answered, "except that I am mighty cowld, sitting up there among the snow for so long; but I'll soon be afther warming my limbs."

Saying this he set off with us, and at a rapid rate we retraced our steps to the Indian camp. We were all glad enough to turn in; and next morning our friends, after examining the country around, assured us that the wolves were not likely to follow our footsteps.

My uncle had taken a great liking to Kepenau, and invited him to come and pitch his camp near us; promising to supply him with powder and shot, and also to assist him in trading with the white men so that no risk might be run of whisky being given in exchange for game and furs. Kepenau said he would think about the matter.

One of the young squaws who happened to be present was his daughter. On hearing of the invitation, she begged her father to accept it. She was far superior to the other Indian women in appearance; and although not so old as Lily, she was taller than any of them. Her complexion was of the lightest olive, through which rich colour could be seen on her cheeks. She was, indeed, fairer than many Europeans. Her figure was extremely graceful, too. I did not, however, observe this when I first saw her, for she was then dressed in her thick blanket robe. Her name was Ashatea, or "White Poplar;" a very suitable name, as I thought. She had seen Lily, I found, two or three times, before they had moved westward; and she longed, she told me, to meet her again, and begged that I would tell Lily so when I returned home. It was this that made her so anxious that her father and his tribe should come and camp near us.

Before we started, Kepenau had almost promised to come, though he would not bind himself to do so. "Circumstances might change," he observed. "He was well located where his camp was pitched, and it was trying work to change quarters at that season of the year."

Ashatea accompanied us, with her people, down to the ice. "Do not forget," she said, "my message to your sister Lily."

"You may trust me," I answered, making her a bow—for I felt that she was a lady, although an Indian squaw; then off we set, hoping this time to reach home before nightfall. Having completely recovered from our fatigue, we got on famously. Mike did not forget to secure the wolf-skin; and just as the sun sank behind the trees, we were saluted by the sharp, joyous barking of Snap, Yelp, and Pop, and by the gruffer tones of Quambo, who rushed out of the hut to welcome us home.

We had plenty of work to do after we returned home, but I managed to make a run over to the settlement to pay a visit to my uncle and aunt and Lily. I did not fail to give her Ashatea's message; and she was much pleased to hear of her.

"I do hope they will come into our neighbourhood; I should be so glad to see her again," said Lily. "Ashatea promised to take me out in her canoe; for, you know, she is as expert as any of the men in paddling one. She wished to show me how the Indians catch fish. And then she said that when the rice was ripe we should go to the rice-lake to collect it. I hope that Aunt Hannah won't object. It would be very interesting; and there could be no possible danger, as all the Indians in this part of the country are friendly. But, to tell you the truth, Roger, I am quite jealous of you, as you are now able to go out into the forest by yourself, and meet with all sorts of adventures; whilst I, alas! am compelled to stay at home, with no other amusement than occasionally a 'sewing' or an 'apple bee.'"

I, of course, sympathised with Lily, and said that I wished Aunt Hannah would let her come out with me, and that I should take very great care of her.

"I am afraid that she thinks we are now too old to run about together as we used to do, when you were a boy and I was a girl," she answered.

"I wish, then, that we were young again!" I exclaimed; "although I should not then be able to take as much care of you as I can now. I would sooner die, Lily, than allow any harm to happen to you."

"That I am sure you would, Roger," she said; "and I should not be afraid to trust myself with you anywhere."

We were not very old even then, I should remark: but I was feeling myself a man, and was ready to do all sorts of manly things.

"By-the-by," observed Lily, "we have become intimate with a family among the settlers who arrived last fall,—Mr and Mrs Claxton, and Dora their daughter, a very nice girl of my age, and a great friend of mine. Dora has a brother called Reuben, and I think you will like him. Although he is younger than you are, he seems to be a fine fellow, and has your taste for natural history and sporting."

"I shall be very glad to meet with him; but I have not time to look him up now, as I must get back to the hut. But you may tell him about me; and say that, if he will come over, I shall be happy to take him out into the forest, where we can have a hunt together."

Although I had said that I must go immediately, I lingered for some time with Lily, for I never was in a hurry to leave her. It was consequently quite dark before I got half-way to the hut; still, I knew the path— indeed, there was only one. The snow, however, thickly covered the ground, and I had to guide myself by feeling the scores on the trunks of the trees. Had every tree been thus marked, there would have been no great difficulty; but, of course, they were scored only at intervals, and sometimes I was uncertain whether I had not somehow got out of the direct line. I knew that, did I once go wrong, it would be a hard matter, if not impossible, to find my way back again. There might be wolves prowling about, too; or I might by chance find myself in the grasp of a hungry bear, bent on a visit to the hog-pens in the settlement. Intending to return early, I had left without my gun—an act of folly I resolved not to repeat. Should I lose myself, I should have no means of making a signal, and I might very possibly be frozen to death before the morning.

I had gone some distance without finding a score, and I began to fear that I really had lost myself; but it would not do to stand still, so I walked on; and greatly to my relief, as I touched tree after tree, I at length felt a scored one, and knew that I was in the right direction. Presently a light appeared ahead. I ran towards it, shouting at the top of my voice. A welcome halloo came from Mike, who was standing, with a pine torch in his hand, at the door of the hut.

Two days after this, a tall lad, of fair complexion, made his appearance at the hut, gun in hand, and introduced himself as Reuben Claxton. "Miss Lily, who is a great friend of my sister Dora, told me that you would be glad to see me; and so I have come, and I should much like to have a hunt with you in the forest," he said abruptly.

It was his way, I found. He always went directly to the point, whether in talking or in doing anything: and I liked him the better for that.

Uncle Mark invited him to stay with us.

"I said that I would if you asked me, so they will not be expecting me at home again," he answered.

In ten minutes we were on as friendly terms as if we had known each other all our lives. Next day we started with our guns, accompanied by Mike and Quambo, and our three dogs. The sky was bright, the air calm, and, except for the snow and the leafless trees, we might have supposed ourselves to have been in the middle of summer.

We had not gone far when we caught sight of an animal making its way along the trunk of a fallen tree. I soon recognised it to be a marten, and was just going to fire, when I perceived another creature coming out of a hole hard by. The former animal was evidently bent on attacking the latter. The marten immediately stopped, and carefully eyed the hermit, the character of which I could not at first make out on account of the distance it was from us. Quambo would probably have known, but he and Mike were some way behind us. Of the marten I had no doubt; I recognised it by its agile and graceful movements, by its length, which was about a foot and a half, with a bushy tail somewhat under a foot long, and by its dark tawny coat and white throat, its pointed muzzle, and bright and lively eyes. We stopped to watch what would take place, keeping back the dogs, which were about to rush forward and seize the animals.

The marten soon made up its mind to assault its opponent, which, instead of retreating into its hole, came boldly forward and ascended the fallen trunk. I at once saw that it was an "urson," or porcupine; although my companion supposed it to be another animal, as he could not see the long quills with which the English porcupine is armed. This creature was fully two feet long. Its back was covered with thick hair of a dusky brown colour; its head was short, and its nose blunt; it had small round ears, very powerful teeth, short limbs, and feet armed with strong crooked claws. These particulars I was afterwards able to exhibit to him.

The porcupine stood eyeing its opponent for nearly a minute; then the marten began the attack by showing its teeth, erecting its hairs, and springing forward with graceful bounds. At the same time the porcupine, erecting an armour of quills, which had till then been concealed under its thick hair, appeared all at once to become twice its former size. The marten had too much impetus to stop its attempt to seize the porcupine by the snout; but the latter, suddenly whisking round, dealt the marten a tremendous blow with its tail, filling its body with short darts, and sending it off the trunk sprawling among the snow.

The marten was now animated by rage as well as by the desire to capture its foe. It again sprang up, ran along the boughs of the fallen tree, and advanced once more towards the porcupine; but its courage and agility did not avail it. Another blow from that formidable tail cast it once more into the snow; while the porcupine looked down with contempt on its defeated antagonist. Reuben, taking good aim with his rifle, put the marten out of misery; while I killed the victorious porcupine. The dogs then rushed forward; but Snap, the most eager, had reason to repent his eagerness, as before we could keep him off the animal he had received several sharp quills in his jaws. These we immediately extracted, but he never again attempted to seize either a living or a dead porcupine.

We killed another marten and some squirrels, and were returning home just at sundown, when we met Uncle Mark, who had followed our trail—no difficult thing to do over the snow, even for a white man. He had just before caught sight of an opossum, which had escaped him. It had evidently paid a visit to our poultry-yard a short time previously, and having succeeded in carrying off one of the inhabitants, was making its way with its prey to its mate or hungry family when Uncle Mark overtook it. He had knocked it over with his stick, and supposed it dying or dead, as it lay with open mouth, extended tongue, and dim eyes. At that moment he had caught sight of a marten or some other animal moving through the forest. The creature thereupon proved that it was only "'possuming;" for the instant his eye was withdrawn it sprang up, and set off at a rate which showed that its powers of locomotion, at least, had not been impaired by the blows it had received.

He was telling us this, when the dogs began to yelp, and presently right ahead of us appeared a creature of the size of a large cat.

"Dere a 'possum," exclaimed Quambo; and we hurried after it with the dogs.

"Master 'Possum" was not going to be caught so easily, however. In an instant it was up a tree, and lost to sight amid the branches, while the dogs yelped around it.

"The creature is lost," cried Reuben.

"No fear ob dat," answered Quambo. "We soon find him out."

Then he and Mike, with the rest of us, began to collect all the decayed branches to be found above the snow. We soon bad enough wood for a fire; when Quambo striking a light, it quickly blazed up, and the flames exhibited the opossum making its way along one of the branches. The dogs leaped about, and yelped loudly. Quambo had thrown himself on the ground to watch the animal's proceedings; for the moment we had attempted to take aim, it had nimbly sprung round to the dark side, apparently watching us as eagerly as we were watching it. Mike on this hurried off to a little distance and lifted his rifle. He fired, and down came the opossum.

The dogs seized it, and in a few moments life was extinct. There was no shamming now, though the Irishman gave it another blow, after we had taken off the dogs, just to make sure. He having slung it over his back, we put out the fire to prevent the risk of igniting the trees, and proceeded homewards well content with our evening's sport.

It was the last idle day we had for some time, for we had an abundance of work to get through before the return of spring, which was now rapidly approaching. It was the least pleasant time of the year, too; for we had thaws of two or three days at a time, during which the hardened snow was turned into slush. Then frost would come on again, and hold the timber with such a grasp that we could not move it. We occupied the time in putting up sheds, and in such other work as could be done before the ground was clear. No one, however, complained; for we knew that the snow would soon disappear, that the leaves would again come forth, and that the rivers would be open, when we should be able to move about much more rapidly in our canoes than we had done over the frozen ground.



CHAPTER FOUR.

UNCLE MARK'S GOOD OPINION OF REUBEN—MIKE LAFFAN'S FIDDLE—THE BEAVER— REUBEN'S DESIRE TO TURN TRAPPER—QUAMBO TAKES A PIPE—KEPENAU'S CANOE— ASHATEA PADDLES REUBEN HOME—KEPENAU'S SAGACITY—UNCLE MARK WELCOMES KEPENAU AND HIS DAUGHTER—THE OLD TRAPPER—REUBEN CARRIES SAMSON'S PACK—ASHATEA IS TAUGHT ENGLISH BY LILY AND DORA—MARTIN GODFREY'S VISIT TO THE SETTLEMENT—KEPENAU'S AND ASHATEA'S DEPARTURE—SANDY MCCOLL, THE HALF-BREED—A VISIT TO KEPENAU—PORTAGING.

The summer had now come. The trees were all decked with their rich and varied foliage; the notes of the feathered inhabitants were heard in the forest; and numerous animals which had either gone south during the winter, or had concealed themselves in sheltered places, were moving about. There had been too much ploughing and sowing to allow of my indulging in my favourite pursuits. All I could do was to run over and pay my uncle and aunt a visit; but it may be that Lily was the chief attraction.

I found her friend Dora with her one day. She was certainly a very nice girl, although not equal to Lily by a long way, in my opinion. They inquired whether we had seen anything of Kepenau and his daughter Ashatea.

"They have not yet appeared," I answered; "nor have we received any tidings of them."

"Dora wants to make the acquaintance of a real Indian girl, fit to be a heroine," said Lily, laughing. "She has hitherto only seen the wretched squaws who appear in the Eastern States. She can scarcely believe that Ashatea is the interesting creature I describe her."

I said that I would try to communicate with Kepenau, if I could learn his whereabouts from any passing Indians.

"Oh do!" said Lily; "and let him understand how glad we shall be to see him and his daughter again."

While we were talking Reuben came in, and offered to accompany me back to the hut. He, like me, had been very busy all the spring. He certainly did not look well suited for hard labour; but his face was more bronzed than heretofore, and he seemed perfectly well. Wishing the girls good-bye, we shouldered our guns, and commenced the walk to the hut. There was no risk of losing our way at this time, for the days were long, and there was a bright moon that evening.

Uncle Mark welcomed Reuben, whom he liked for his straightforward character and honesty.

"I am glad you have got such a companion as that young fellow," he said to me. "When two harum-scarum fellows associate, they are sure to get into trouble; but you two will help each other out of difficulties, should you unexpectedly fall into them."

Mike amused us that evening with a tune on his fiddle; and Quambo diverted us still more by a dance he performed to the music, which made Reuben, who was not addicted to laughing, almost split his sides.

We agreed to have a long ramble into the forest next day, my uncle giving me leave of absence. He could not spare Mike, but he allowed Quambo to accompany us.

"We can cook our dinner without him," I said; "though, to be sure, we cannot expect to dress it as well as he would."

"Ah! Massa Mark, poor black fellow do one t'ing well; you do ebery t'ing well," observed Quambo, with a grimace, by which he intended to show that he was paying a deserved compliment.

We carried our guns, with provisions in our knapsacks to last us for a day, although we expected to kill more game than we should want. As we wished to make a long excursion, we started at daybreak; that is to say, Reuben, Quambo, and I, with the dogs. Reuben had a great desire to see a beaver settlement which I had once visited when we first came into that part of the country; and I thought that I could find my way to it. Quambo amused us, as we walked along, with all sorts of tales about beavers, raccoons, opossums, bears, and other animals, with the habits of which he was well acquainted.

The beaver is a good-sized animal, being two and a half feet long exclusive of the tail, which is one foot more. It is of a deep chestnut colour; the hair very fine, smooth, and glossy. The Indians use its incisor teeth, which are very large and hard, to cut the bone or horn with which they tip their spears. It is a rodent, or gnawing animal. It has a broad, horizontal, flattened tail, nearly of an oval form, which is covered with scales. The hind feet are webbed, and, with the aid of the tail, which acts as a rudder, enable it to swim through the water with ease and rapidity. Except in one respect, I do not know that it can be considered a sagacious animal; but it is a marvellous engineer, its faculties being employed in building houses, and in forming dams for the protection of its village.

One of its chief characteristics is the power it possesses of producing a substance termed "castor,"—which is contained in two bags, each about the size of a hen's egg. This castor is peculiarly attractive to beavers. They scent it at a distance, and invariably make their way towards it. No sooner does the beaver discover the delicious odour than he sits upright, sniffs about in every direction, and squeals with excitement until he can get up to it. The trapper, knowing this, always carries a supply of castor, or bark-stone; and when he reaches a stream or any other water near which he believes beavers may be found, he sets his trap, about six inches under the water. He then chews the end of a twig, dips it in the castor, and sticks it in with the scented end uppermost, just a little above the water. The nearest beaver, on discovering the scent, hurries up to the spot; and, if a young animal, is nearly certain to be caught by the trap. The older beavers are more knowing and cautious, and frequently bite off the end of the twig without entangling themselves.

Another curious circumstance connected with this "castoreum" is, that as soon as one beaver has deposited any of it on the ground, the beavers from another lodge go to the spot, and after covering it with earth and leaves, deposit their own "castoreum" on it. When they have gone away, others in turn perform the same operation; and thus the process goes on till a heap four or five feet in height has been raised. No one has as yet been able to ascertain the object of this proceeding. It gives the trapper, however, the means of catching the poor creatures—means which they would undoubtedly withhold, if they had the power. Like human beings, they are sufferers from their own acts.

The teeth of the beavers are sharp and powerful, and their jaws possess an extraordinary amount of strength. This enables them to bite through wood, tear the bark from trees, and chew vegetable substances of all sorts. During summer they regale themselves on fruits and plants of various descriptions; but their winter stock of food consists of the bark of the birch, plane, and other trees—and even of the young wood itself, which they steep in water before devouring it.

Their favourite resort is a stream or a pool near trees. Here they will assemble to the number of some hundreds, living in communities, and working together. They select, when they can, a stream with a current, because it affords them the means of conveying wood and other materials for their habitations. They choose such parts as will afford them depth of water sufficient to resist the frost in winter, and prevent it freezing to the bottom. When, however, they find that there is not depth enough for this purpose, they build a dam across the stream, at a convenient distance below their habitations. If the current is gentle, the dam is made perfectly straight; but if rapid, it is constructed with a considerable curve, the convex side being towards the upper part of the stream. The materials employed are drift wood, green willows, birch, and poplar; these are placed horizontally, and kept down by mud and stones. So strong do these dams become, that they are capable of resisting a considerable force both of water and ice; for generally the wood, taking root, shoots upwards, and forms ultimately a thick hedge. In some cases even trees sprout up, in the branches of which the birds form their nests.

Beavers build their houses of the same materials as their dams, and of various sizes, according to the number of the inmates. These, however, do not often exceed four or eight old ones, and from six to fourteen young ones. The houses are of a circular form, elevated some feet above the surface of the water; but the entrance is always low down beneath it. They are more rudely constructed than the dams, too. The wood is laid nearly horizontally, and crosswise; the branches, which project inwards, they cut off with their teeth. First there is a layer of wood, and then one of mud and stones; and so they work on till a sufficient height is gained, when the roof, of rough branches, is placed on the top, and plastered down with mud and stones.

Such was the interesting account which Quambo gave us as we walked along.

No event worthy of description occurred during our walk, though it took us some hours to reach the spot for which I was directing our course.

I was not disappointed. As we approached it cautiously, we caught sight of several beavers running about on the banks of the stream, some nibbling away at the trunks of saplings and small trees which they were engaged in felling. Had we fired, we might have killed two or three; but the rest would have disappeared, and we should then have lost the opportunity of observing them. We therefore crept on, concealing ourselves among the thick underwood.

At length I was afraid, should we get closer, that we might make some noise and alarm the animals. I therefore made a sign to my companions to stop; and looking down, we could discern one of the dams I have spoken of carried across the stream from one side to the other, and apparently not quite finished. Though several beavers were running about it, they were not at work; indeed, all their operations are carried on during darkness. Nature, of course, has given them the instinct to work at this time, which saves them the destruction that would otherwise probably overtake them, both from men and beasts.

After watching them for some time, I wished to retire and let them amuse themselves undisturbed; but Quambo took it into his head to give a loud shout, when in an instant the startled creatures scampered off, and dived under the water. Our chance of seeing more of them was gone; they were evidently on the watch for us, for now and then I saw a snout popping up above the surface, to ascertain if we had taken our departure.

We made our way along the banks of the stream for some distance, till we saw before us a broad expanse of water; and we discovered that it was a shallow lake or pond, bordered by reeds, and with numerous dead trees rising up out of the water near its shores. It struck me that this lake had been produced by the beaver-dams; and on our proceeding downwards towards what appeared to be its outlet, we found what had the appearance of being a long bank, of a convex form, stretched directly across the stream. This, on further examination, I had no doubt was the work of beavers. Alders and willows, and other water-loving trees of considerable size, were growing out of it; and digging down to a slight depth, we found that it consisted of lengths of the trunks of young trees, now rapidly decaying and turning into a vegetable mould, thus affording nourishment to all sorts of plants.

Above the surface of the lake were numerous beaver-houses, and after we had concealed ourselves for some time we caught sight of the inhabitants coming forth and swimming about; while one or two knowing old fellows climbed to the roof of their houses, to keep a look-out, as we supposed, and give notice of approaching danger. We might have shot several, but without the dogs we should not have been able to recover them. Indeed, their skins would have been of much less value than those caught in traps. After watching them for some time, then, we agreed that we ought to be on our homeward way, or we should certainly be benighted. Though we had found the path easily enough in daylight, it would be a hard matter to do so in the dark.

"I should very much like to turn trapper," said Reuben to me as we walked along. "I once heard a good deal about the lives the trappers lead, from a fine old man who stopped at our house one night, on his way to dispose of his packs of skins at one of the fur-traders' posts."

"I suspect that it must be a very hard life, and you would soon get tired of it, Reuben," I answered.

"As to that, I fancy that when I got accustomed to the hardships I should like it more and more; but I would be a trapper on my own hook— have my own animals and traps, hunt where I chose, and sell my peltries to whom I pleased. Our old friend had a horse and two mules. He rode the horse, and the mules served to carry his packs. He had six traps, which he carried in a leathern bag called his trap-sack. I was particularly struck by his appearance as he rode up to our cottage. His costume was a hunting-shirt of dressed buckskin, ornamented with long fringes; pantaloons of the same material, decorated with porcupine-quills hanging down the outside of the leg. He wore moccasins on his feet, and a flexible felt hat upon his head. Under his right arm, and suspended from his left shoulder, hung his powder-horn and bullet-pouch, in which he carried balls, flint, and steel His long knife, in a sheath of buffalo, hung from a belt round his waist—made fast to it by a steel chain. Also, he carried a tomahawk; and slung over his shoulder was his long heavy rifle; while from his neck hung his pipe-holder, garnished with beads and porcupine-quills.

"He had come many hundreds of miles from the west, having trapped as far off as the Rocky Mountains, and had met with all sorts of adventures among the Indians, from whom he had often narrowly escaped with his life. He said that he would take me with him, as he much wanted a companion, and would answer for my life with his own; though I should run no more risk than he did, if I only followed his directions. But my father would not hear of it, and was quite angry with the old man for putting the idea into my head; so, of course, I had to give it up.

"'Well, Reuben, my boy,' he said as he rode away, 'should your father change his mind, and you hold fast to yours, when I come back I will take you with me.'

"But he never has come back since."

I laughed at Reuben's notion; for, knowing him as I did, I saw that he was utterly unfit for the sort of life he proposed to lead, and would be heartily sick of it before long. He had a fertile imagination, and had pictured a trapper's life as something very delightful, although I was sure he would in reality hate it. And I believe that is the case with many other boys,—especially with those who take it into their head to go to sea, and who have never been on board a ship, and know nothing whatever of sea-life.

We had now performed the greater part of our journey home, and had reached the bank of the larger river, where it extended into lake-like dimensions, narrowing again shortly to its former width. Here several rocks were seen rising out of it—the waters rushing between them with great force, and forming a cataract, down which I should have thought it impossible for the strongest boat to make its way without being dashed to pieces.

At this point we sat down on the bank to rest and take some refreshment, when Quambo pulled out his pipe.

"You no smoke, young gen'lemen; but ole neegur, he fond of baccy, and you no object," said Quambo.

Quambo was always a pattern of politeness. We begged him to smoke as much as he liked, although we had not taken to it ourselves.

When Quambo was enjoying his pipe, he was never in a hurry to move, so we sat on longer than we should otherwise have done. I considered, at length, that it was time to move; when, looking up the stream, across the broad expanse I have mentioned, I caught sight of a light canoe skimming rapidly over the surface. It was approaching us; so, prompted by curiosity, we agreed to wait its arrival at the shore—for it did not occur to us it could possibly descend the rapids. It kept, however, in the middle of the current, and before we had got far from where we had been sitting I saw that it was about to make its way amid the tumbling waters.

"These people must be strangers, and cannot be aware of the danger they are running," I observed. "Their canoe will be destroyed, and we must do our best to save them."

We accordingly hurried back. As the canoe approached, I saw that there were four people in her: one in the stern, and two in the bows paddling; the other, who appeared to be a female, sitting near the after end, was also dexterously using a paddle, now on one side and now on the other. On looking again, I felt nearly sure that the Indian in the stern was our friend Kepenau, and that the female was his daughter Ashatea.

I shouted, but it was too late to warn him to turn back; indeed, from the calm way in which he sat, I was convinced that he well knew where he was going: and almost before I had time to think much about the danger my friends were running, they had passed it, and their canoe was floating in the calm water at the foot of the rapids.

My shout attracted the notice of Kepenau, who at once recognised me, and steered his canoe for the bank. He and Ashatea stepped on shore, and seemed much pleased at seeing me. I introduced Reuben, who made as polite a bow to the Indian girl as he would have done to a princess. She put out her hand, and in her broken language inquired if he had a sister. On his replying that such was the case, Ashatea expressed a hope that she would become a friend to her, as Lily was.

Kepenau told me that they were on their way to visit our settlement, according to his promise. "I thought it wisest," he said "to keep my people at a distance, so we have fixed our camp on the banks of a stream some miles to the westward; and as the rivers are now open, we can easily hold communication with you. At the same time, as there are several intervening rapids and waterfalls, the white men are not likely to find their way often to us, or to bring the 'fire water' which I so much dread."

On hearing that we were on our way home, he offered to accompany us; observing that Ashatea could steer the canoe as well as he could, and though the distance by the river was greater, she would not be long after us. "There are no more rapids or waterfalls to be passed, so that the remainder of the voyage can be performed without danger," he observed.

Reuben, on hearing this, asked leave to take his place, saying that he should much like the trip by the river.

"But you cannot use a paddle," said Kepenau.

"Not very well," answered Reuben.

"Then don't make the attempt, or you may upset the canoe, or lose your paddle. If you go, you must sit perfectly quiet," said Kepenau.

Reuben promised to obey orders. Ashatea smiled, and appeared to be highly amused at the idea of having a white man as her passenger.

As we had no time to lose, Ashatea resumed her seat in the stern of the canoe.

"Now, take care," she said, laughing, as she saw Reuben about to step in, "else you will tumble over on the other side, or make a hole in the canoe and go through it."

Reuben looked somewhat alarmed, and in his eagerness was very nearly doing both the things against which he was being warned. Kepenau, however taking his arm, helped him in.

"Now, don't move till you reach the end of your voyage," said the Indian. "Perhaps we shall be there to help you out."

Ashatea gave a flourish with her paddle as a farewell signal, and striking the water, away the canoe shot down the stream. We meanwhile took the path homewards, and as we were anxious to arrive before the canoe we hurried forward.

Kepenau told me that his daughter had so much wished to see Lily,—or my sister, as he called her,—that he had consented to bring her, and to leave her for two or three days, if my friends would allow it.

I said that I was sure they would.

He desired, he told me, to make some trade arrangements for disposing of the peltries which he and his people obtained; his object, at the same time, being to keep them away from the white men, for fear of the "fire water." This subject was continually on his mind. He had seen it prove the destruction of so many of his countrymen, that he dreaded its introduction among his own tribe, who had hitherto been kept free from it. However, as my uncles and Mr Claxton were men who never touched liquor, he was not afraid of dealing with them.

I remarked, as we walked along, that his eyes were constantly turning in every direction,—now on the ground, now on the trees and hushes on either side,—as if he was on the look-out for game, or fancied that an enemy was lurking near. I at last inquired why he did this.

"It is the habit of my people," he answered. "We never can tell whether our foes may be before us or tracking our footsteps. I noticed that some one besides you and your young friend and the black has passed this way lately. He wore moccasins, and may therefore be a red man and an enemy; but I have just discovered that he is one of your people, and has a load on his shoulders. Observe that soft ground; his feet sank deeper into it than would have been the case had he been unencumbered. He is either an old man, or overcome with fatigue. He cannot be very far before us, and is going in the direction of your hut." Kepenau pointed as he spoke to some mossy ground, where I could just distinguish a faint outline of the footsteps of a man; but I should have been unable to read anything beyond that fact from the marks left behind.

Quambo, who saw them, thought that they might have been, after all, only the footsteps of Uncle Mark or Mike, who might have come out thus far in search of game; but Kepenau laughed when this was said.

"No, no," he answered; "these are moccasins. You will see that I am right."

We hurried on, for the sun was getting low, and already the gloom had settled down in the recesses of the forest.

As we emerged into more open ground near the banks of the river, the rays of the sun glancing along it sparkled on the flakes of foam, as the stream hurried rippling along the banks. Nearing the hut, we caught sight of three figures standing in front of it.

"I told you so," observed Kepenau. "Yonder is the man whose trail I discovered. A trapper, who has come east with his peltries. He is an old man, too, as I thought, and carried a heavy load."

Before even our friends saw us, the canoe shot into view down the stream; and after helping Ashatea and Reuben to land—or rather the latter, for the Indian girl sprang lightly on shore without assistance— we proceeded to the hut.

Uncle Mark advanced to meet us. "All friends are welcome," he said, taking Kepenau's hand, and then greeting the young girl in his kind, friendly way. "You will, however, have to submit to pretty close stowage, if, as I hope you intend to do, you will remain the night with us."

"We can quickly put up sufficient shelter for this time of the year for ourselves, so that we need not crowd you, my friend," answered the Indian. "And our aged brother there, I doubt not, is as well accustomed to the open air as we are."

"Many days and nights have passed since I slept under a roof," observed the old hunter, who, hearing himself mentioned, now came forward. "We have met before, brother," he added, looking at the Indian; "ay, and fought and hunted together! Don't you recollect me?"

"Ay, that I do. You saved my life when the Apaches were about to take my scalp, and enabled me to reach my horse and escape," answered Kepenau.

"Ah! I have a faint recollection of that; but I remember more clearly how, when I was hunted by a party of Araphoes, you and your people came sweeping down to my assistance, and put them to flight," replied the old trapper.

"I recollect the event," observed Kepenau; "but I have long since buried the war-hatchet, and now strive to live at peace with my neighbours, if they will let me."

While the Indian and the old trapper had been speaking, I had been looking at the latter. I had no doubt, from the description Reuben had given of the visitor to his father's house, that this was the same person; and I was therefore not surprised to see him and Reuben shaking hands as old acquaintances.

Quambo, knowing that food would be required for our guests, lost no time, with the assistance of Mike, in lighting a fire, and immediately set about cooking whatever his larder supplied. Though we had killed but little game on our excursion, Uncle Mark and Mike had been more fortunate during our absence, and there was no lack of food.

In the meantime Kepenau had called up his people from the canoe, and they set to work to collect materials for two small wigwams, which, though they were more rudely constructed than usual, served the purpose intended. One was for the accommodation of Ashatea, and the other for the chief—his men contenting themselves with a rough lean-to.

The whole party joined us in the hut at supper, which, thanks to the diligence of Mike and Quambo, was quickly prepared. The old trapper had many anecdotes to tell, and many a wild adventure to recount, which, I saw, was greatly interesting to Reuben. Ashatea spoke but little, though I could see, by her quick glance, that she understood much, if not all, that was said.

At night the chief and his daughter retired to their wigwams, while the old trapper accepted a shakedown in the corner of our hut. He smiled when Uncle Mark offered him a bed. "For many a long year I have not slept in one," he answered; "and I possibly may never again put my head on a pillow softer than my saddle or a pack of skins."

Without taking off his clothes, and merely unbuckling his belt, he lay down, and was soon fast asleep. Reuben and I, after a few minutes' talk, did the same. Before I closed my eyes, however, I saw that Uncle Mark was sitting at the table, resting his head upon his hands, apparently lost in thought.

At break of day the next morning our Indian friends were on foot, and we turned out to receive them. As our hut was close, we had our breakfast spread on a grassy spot beneath the trees, where we could enjoy fresh air, which was certainly more suited to their taste.

Ashatea looked handsomer than ever. She was eager to set out to see Lily. Reuben offered to accompany her, and show the way: at which Kepenau laughed, observing that an Indian never required a guide through his own country; but, for all that, he should be happy to have the white stranger's society.

Kepenau had brought several packages of skins, which it was his object to dispose of.

"My friend," said the old trapper, touching him on the shoulder, "let me sell them for you. I know how the white men will treat you if they think that they are yours: they will offer a third of the value, and then insist on your taking articles you do not require."

"I wish to open a fair trade with the white men," answered Kepenau. "I will let them understand that I have more skins to bring."

"The greater reason they will have for putting a small value on them," observed the old trapper.

"I would advise you to accept Samson Micklan's offer," said Uncle Mark, turning to the Indian.

Kepenau considered the matter for some time. "I will do as you advise," he said at length. "I know that I can trust you. When you have fixed a price, I will not consent to sell under it. I intend, nevertheless, to go to the settlement."

The old trapper, whose name I now for the first time heard, appeared to be in no hurry to continue his journey. When at length he declared that he was ready to start, Reuben offered to carry his pack.

Old Samson smiled. "It may make your young shoulders ache more than you suppose," he observed.

"Let me try," answered Reuben; and I helped him to place it on his shoulders. In doing so I was able to judge of its weight.

"If my uncle can spare me, I will assist you," I said; "for I doubt very much whether you will be able to carry it all the way."

Reuben, however, had made up his mind to fulfil his promise. I saw a twinkle in the old man's eyes when he trudged off trying to look as if he did not feel the weight. My uncle told me I might go too, so we set off. Kepenau and Samson led the way, talking together. Reuben, as I expected, dropped alongside Ashatea; and I followed. The other Indians brought up the rear, carrying Kepenau's packs.

Before long, I saw that Reuben was walking with difficulty, and putting his hands behind his back to try and lift the pack off his shoulders. I ranged up to him.

"You had better let me carry that a little way for you," I said. "Or suppose we sling it on our sticks! we shall then get along more easily, and neither of us will feel the weight too much."

Still Reuben declared that he could carry it.

Ashatea looked at him, evidently understanding the matter as well as I did. "You better let your friend do as he says," she observed.

At length Reuben, who was getting very hot, and had stumbled more than once, said, "Well, I do think it will be the best way. I am much obliged to you, Roger."

We soon had the pack slung to the sticks, and poor Reuben stepped along much more easily than before.

We soon reached Uncle Stephen's house, when the old trapper turned round to Reuben. "You are a brave lad," he said; "I like your pluck. In a few years, when you get more muscle in your limbs, you will laugh at a pack twice the weight of that."

Lily was delighted to see Ashatea, and we left them together while we went on to Mr Claxton's, where old Samson intended to stay. He had arranged with Kepenau to sell his peltries, and the next day they were all disposed of at a price which greatly astonished and delighted our Indian friend. He made an arrangement with Uncle Stephen to sell all the produce of the chase which he might bring, and to purchase for him such articles as he required.

Reuben brought his sister Dora over to see Ashatea, and the three girls seemed very happy together. The Indian girl was as eager to learn English as Lily and Dora were to instruct her; and she got on rapidly.

Old Samson had suffered more from his long tramp on foot than he was at first willing to confess, and a fit of illness was the consequence. He was well cared for, however, by the Claxtons, who treated him as kindly as if he had been a relation. He was grateful in his way; but it struck me that there was something hard and unsympathising in his character. He spoke of his fights with the Indians, of the scalps he had taken, of his hairbreadth escapes; but he never uttered a word which showed that he had any religious feeling. Indeed, he seemed to me to be as much of a heathen as the Indians among whom he had lived so long. It appeared strange to me that an old man should be so hardened. I was not aware, at the time, that when people once begin to give up trusting God they go further and further from him; and thus, of course, as they advance in years they think less and less of their souls, and, in fact, become more dead with regard to all spiritual matters.

I had been accustomed to see Uncle Stephen read the Bible to his family, and offer up prayers morning and night; while he never did any work, except such as necessity demanded, on the Sabbath. Uncle Mark had been less exact in these respects, although even he was accustomed to read the Bible on the Sabbath, and to refrain from work; and occasionally we went over to Uncle Stephen's on that day and joined his family at worship. Most of the people of the settlement, however, paid but little attention to the day, though they ceased from all rough work, and made a sort of holiday of it. There was no church or chapel of any description in the neighbourhood, and few paid any attention to what are called religious duties.

The day after I went to stay with Uncle Stephen, some little time before sunset I saw a horseman approaching the house from the eastward. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit of dark grey, with his legs encased in strong leather gaiters, and a broad-brimmed hat on his head; a pair of huge saddle-bags, too, were thrown across the hardy-looking mustang he bestrode. He had neither gun over his shoulder nor sword by his side; but he carried a thick staff of considerable length in his hand.

"Canst tell me, young friend, if yonder house is the abode of Stephen Tregellis?" he asked as I advanced towards him.

"Yes, sir. He is my uncle," I answered, offering to hold his nag's head while he dismounted.

He threw himself from the saddle with the activity of a young man.

"I hope, then, that I shall not intrude, for I have come far, and should like to spend a few days with one who, if I am not wrongly informed, will receive me as a brother Christian," he said.

"Uncle Stephen will be glad to see you, sir," I answered, feeling sure that I was only saying what was the case.

"Well, then, young man, go in and tell him that Martin Godfrey has come to claim his hospitality."

As my uncle had just reached home, I hurried in and gave him the message. He immediately came out and welcomed the stranger, with whom he had a short conversation, which I did not hear, as I was holding the pony at a little distance. I only caught the words, uttered by my uncle, "We will make ready a small upper room, and to that you shall be welcome as long as you remain in these parts."

He then told me to take the mustang round to the stable, to rub him down, and feed him well, and to bring the minister's saddle-bags into the house. When I returned, after having obeyed these orders, I found the stranger seated at table—on which Aunt Hannah and Lily had spread supper—talking cheerfully; and from what he said I gathered that he had visited a number of outlying settlements, accompanied by several young ministers, one of whom he had left at each.

"I had no one to bring on here, and was unwilling to leave you without the 'bread of life,' so I was fain to come on myself," he observed.

I wondered what he could mean. Aunt Hannah explained, after he and Uncle Mark had gone out, that he was one of those energetic Gospellers who had done so much for the back settlements of America; that he was an overseer among them—his duty being to move from place to place to form new congregations where none existed, and to strengthen and encourage the older ones.

He had much conversation with Kepenau and Ashatea, with whom he could converse in their own language. They were evidently deeply interested in what he said, and I saw him frequently produce his Bible and refer to it to strengthen what he was saying. Kepenau had, as I have already said, some knowledge of Christianity, and he and his daughter very gladly received the instruction which the missionary afforded them.

Uncle Stephen went out and succeeded in bringing in three or four of our neighbours, among whom were Mr Claxton and Reuben, and we had a regular service in the cottage,—the first of the sort I can recollect. The Bible was read, prayers were offered up, and the missionary gave an address; after which some of Wesley's hymns were sung by Lily and Dora— Ashatea occasionally joining in, with a very sweet voice, although she had never heard them before.

Mr Claxton afterwards begged the missionary to come and visit old Samson. He gladly complied; but I heard him next day tell Uncle Stephen that he feared no impression had been made on the old trapper's heart. "Still, I do not despair," he added. "It may be as hard as iron, or stone; but iron can be melted by the fire, and stone worn away by the constant dripping of water. One thing I know,—that nothing is too difficult for God to accomplish; though we, his instruments, are obliged to confess our own weakness."

I must not, however, dwell further on the various events which took place at this time.

Martin Godfrey spent some days with Uncle Stephen, preaching every evening in the open air, and three times on the Sabbath; and he promised the people, if they would put up a chapel, that he would ere long find a minister for them. Having distributed some Bibles and other books contained in his saddle-bags, he at length mounted his mustang and went his way.

I remember Uncle Stephen asking him if he was not afraid of travelling without firearms.

"I trust to One well able to protect me," he answered, smiling. "Whenever I have to employ the arm of flesh, I find my trusty stick sufficient to defend myself against hostile Indians or savage beasts;" and as he whisked it round his head with a rapidity which dazzled the eyes, I could easily understand how it would prove a formidable weapon against either bears or wolves—a tap of it on their skulls being sufficient to stun them; while it seemed to me that he might be able to ward off either the arrows or the tomahawks of hostile Indians.

Kepenau and Ashatea returned to their settlement; and the old trapper, who had now recovered, began to make preparations for his departure. He had again invited Reuben to join him, but Mr Claxton, very wisely, would not hear of his son going away with the old man.

"It is more than likely we shall never see him again," he observed. "Whatever his fate may be, you would probably share it; either to be killed by Indians, or starved, or drowned, or frozen to death, or torn to pieces by bears or wolves."

Reuben was inclined to complain. "Father thinks I cannot take care of myself," he said to me. "As old Samson has spent so many years out trapping by himself, why should not I have as good a chance of escaping from danger?"

"There is an old saying, 'That the water-pot which goes often to the well, gets broken at last,'" I observed. "Such may be the case with regard to old Samson; and you know nothing of the country, or of the cunning of the Redskins, and would be very sure to lose your life if he lost his."

The old man, who had set his heart on obtaining a companion of some sort, succeeded in persuading a half-breed to accompany him. This was a man named Sandy McColl, whose father was a Scotchman and his mother an Indian, and who had long been accustomed to the wild life of the prairies. He had come to the settlement intending to remain, and had built a hut and begun to cultivate a garden, with the intention, as was supposed, of taking unto himself a wife; but the damsel on whom he had set his affections had refused him. Sandy after this became very downcast; he neglected his garden, and spent most of his time wandering about gun in hand, shooting any game he could come across. He had few associates, and was of a morose disposition. People, indeed, whispered that he had been guilty of some crime or other, and was forced to leave the part of the country where he had before resided. Uncle Stephen, who occasionally exchanged a few words with him, did not believe that this was the case, and declared that Sandy, in spite of his taciturnity and love of solitude, was an honest fellow. Be that as it may, Samson was satisfied with him, and the two agreed to start together.

Soon after the old man's arrival, he had asked Reuben and me to make a journey to the place where he had left his other packs of skins hidden away; and he described the spot so exactly, that we believed we should have no difficulty in finding it. My uncle said I might go with Mike Laffan. Reuben, too, got leave from his father; and Sandy volunteered to accompany us. Without him we should, I believe, have lost our way, for he knew the country much better than we did.

We had to proceed cautiously during the latter part of the journey for fear of Indians, as we were far in advance of the territory claimed by the white men. But I do not give an account of the expedition, because, in reality, we met with no adventure worthy of notice. Thanks to Sandy, we discovered the packs, and succeeded in bringing them back safe to their owner; for which Samson was very grateful, and rewarded us handsomely. With the proceeds he purchased two mustangs, six beaver-traps, a supply of powder and shot, and other articles. Sandy had the means of obtaining another mustang, and such supplies as he required.

After this old Samson quickly recovered. As soon as he was well enough he and Sandy mounted their ponies, reserving a third animal to carry their goods; and having bidden us all good-bye, they set off into the wilderness—going to the westward, intending to push forward to the spurs of the Rocky Mountains, where, they said, game in abundance was to be found. Reuben, who was really a very good fellow, soon got reconciled to remaining at home and attending to his duty.

Kepenau had made me promise to come and visit him, and had agreed to send one of his people with a canoe to take me to his lodges; and at last the Indian arrived at our hut.

Kepenau, he said, had sent but a small canoe, as we might thus more easily make our way up the stream, and pass the several portages we should have to go over.

I knew that Reuben would take delight in the excursion, so I hurried to the settlement to see if he could come. His father was very willing to give him leave, as it might turn his thoughts from the wilder and more dangerous adventures on which he was set. He had, some time before this, obtained a birch-bark canoe, which Kepenau, and sometimes Ashatea, had taught him how to use; and as he was constantly practising, he was by this time well able to employ his paddle. We obtained leave to take Mike Laffan with us, too; and thus, with the Indian, we made a party of four in the two canoes.

We carried our guns and axes and the usual woodmen's knives, a pot and pan for cooking our meals, some tin cups, and a few small bales of cloths and coloured calicoes with which to pay the Indians for any peltries they might have to sell—for our expedition was on business as well as pleasure. We enjoyed the thoughts of it all the more on that account. We expected also to get some hunting, and to come back with a supply of dried venison, as well as some skins.

The Indian told us that his name was Kakaik, or the "Small Hawk;" he let us understand that he was a great hunter, but as he could speak no English, and as we understood but a few words of his language, we could not carry on much conversation with him. However, we managed to understand each other very well by means of signs.

The first part of the voyage was along the main river, with which we were well acquainted. We afterwards struck off up one of its tributaries, which varied greatly in width; sometimes it expanded into a lake-like form, and at other parts it contracted into narrow dimensions, where the current ran with great force, and we had hard work to stem it.

At length we reached a waterfall of nearly thirty feet in height, where the river rushed over the rocks and fell down perpendicularly in masses of foam. Kakaik made signs to us that we must land and carry our canoes for some distance through the wood. This is what is called making a "portage." Accordingly we unloaded them, and piled up our goods at the foot of the fall. We then lifted the canoes out of the water; Kakaik taking one bottom upwards on his shoulders and walking off with it. Mike imitated his example, as one man could get between the trees better than two, and the canoes were so light that they could be carried with ease. Reuben, shouldering a portion of the goods, followed the Indian; and I, with another bale on my shoulders and the paddles and gun under my arm, kept close after Mike—leaving the remainder of the things for a second trip.

The ground was rough in the extreme, and it was some way up a steep bank among rocks. My fear was lest Mike should knock the canoe against the branches of the overhanging trees and make a hole in her bottom, so I sang out to him to be cautious.

"Faix! Masther Roger, it's that same I intind to be," he answered. "I have no fancy to walk all the way back again, or forward either, if this is the sort of ground we should have to pass over."

We had to traverse a quarter of a mile or more till we saw the stream ahead of us, running placid as before. Kakaik, going down into the water, placed his canoe gently on the surface, and then helped to take Mike's off his shoulders. The goods we had brought were next placed in them, and the Indian sat down on the bank to watch them while we went back for the remainder.

"Suppose some hostile Indians or prowling bear should have paid a visit to the landing-place, and carried off our property," said Reuben.

"We will hope for the best," I answered, laughing; "but I will take my gun, in case of accidents."



CHAPTER FIVE.

AN INTRUDER—WE ARRIVE AT KEPENAU'S CAMP—ASHATEA INQUIRES KINDLY AFTER LILY AND DORA—DEER-HUNTING—THE STRANGE INDIANS—KEPENAU'S PRECAUTIONS—MIKE AMUSES THE CAMP WITH HIS FIDDLE—OUR FAREWELL— KAKAIK'S ADVICE WITH REGARD TO RAPID-SHOOTING—THE TREACHEROUS INDIAN ON SHORE—MIKE AND I PADDLE DESPERATELY—THE CANOE IS UPSET—CARRIED DOWN THE STREAM—A NATURAL PLACE OF CONCEALMENT IN A HOLLOW TRUNK—MY TERROR ON PERCEIVING THE INDIANS—FORCED BY HUNGER TO LEAVE MY CONCEALMENT, I AM TAKEN PRISONER BY FOUR INDIANS.

On arriving at the foot of the falls we found our goods safe; but just as we were about to shoulder them we heard a rustling among the bushes. Advancing cautiously towards the spot, not knowing what might be there, I caught sight of a dark hairy form. It was a brown bear, which in another minute would in all likelihood have been examining our property with no delicate fingers. I hesitated to fire, for I was sure that I should be unable to hit any vital part; and as even a brown bear, if wounded, will turn furiously on his pursuers, before I could have reloaded the beast might have been upon me. In another instant Bruin had plunged in among the thick underwood, and was concealed from view; but I heard him making his way rapidly from us, doubtless considering that discretion was the better part of valour.

Having taken up our goods, and looked carefully round to see that nothing was left behind, we set off towards the canoes. Kakaik by this time had them both secured alongside the bank, so that we quickly reloaded them and recommenced our voyage up the stream.

I asked Mike to sing one of his Irish songs: this he was never loath to do, and he soon made the banks echo with his melody. As soon as he had ceased, the Indian took up the strain with one of his native songs. It was melancholy in the extreme, and contrasted greatly with Mike's joyous notes.

"Faix! if it's tears he wants to draw from our eyes, I can bate him there," observed Mike, when Kakaik had ceased; and he began one of those sad ditties descriptive of the death of some Irish heroine. Though the Indian could not understand the meaning, he appeared to be much affected, and it was some time before he began another song. From the few words we could make out, we supposed him to be recounting the misfortunes of his people, and their departure from the hunting-grounds of their fathers.

Mike had brought his fiddle, but of course he could not play it while paddling.

"When we get to Kepenau's, I'll show the people what I can do, and set them all jigging away, and laughing till they split their sides," he observed.

The scenery amid which we passed was wild in the extreme. Not a sign of a human being, or a habitation of any sort, was visible. Sometimes dark rocks rose up in precipitous cliffs on both sides of us, and at other times the trees of the forest overhung the water. We had several portages to make, as it was easier to carry the canoes over the land than to drag them up the rapids, but Kakaik signified that on our return we might shoot them without danger.

At last, in the far-off distance, we caught sight of a wreath of smoke ascending from near the bank, and from the gestures of the Indian we understood that we were now approaching Kepenau's camp. In a short time shouts were heard, and we saw several wigwams erected on the greensward in a recess of the forest, surrounded by trees which sheltered them completely from the wind.

A canoe immediately put off and came paddling out towards us; then turned round and accompanied us back to the bank, on which Kepenau, with Ashatea and other members of his family, stood ready to receive us. As we shook hands he told us how glad he was to see us; and Ashatea had many questions to ask about Lily and Dora.

"I have been longing to come and visit them again," she said. "Now that the rice is ripe, I want to take them down to the lake where it grows, that we may gather our canoe full."

Kepenau said that his people would be very glad to receive the goods we had brought, and would be ready to purchase them with their beaver-skins and other peltries, of which they had a considerable store.

When we talked about hunting, he assured us that we need have no fear of obtaining plenty of sport, as, with our rifles, we should be certain to kill the game much more easily than his people could do with their bows and arrows. A hunting-party was accordingly arranged for the next day, on the shores of a lake some miles off. He had already transported a couple of canoes to it, so that, should any of the deer take to the water, we might be able to pursue them. Ashatea was much inclined to come with us, but her father told her that she would be acting more like an English girl if she would stay at home and attend to household affairs.

We started the next morning with Kepenau, Kakaik, and several other Indians, who carried long spears as well as bows and arrows. We were also accompanied by a pack of dogs, well-trained by the Indians for chasing the deer, though they were noisy, ill-looking curs.

We commenced our hunt at some distance from the shores of the lake, but for an hour or more we saw no signs of deer, and Reuben and I began to fancy that we should have to return home without venison.

We had separated from Kepenau, but now we heard his voice, and immediately afterwards the dogs gave tongue. We were looking about to ascertain in what direction to bend our steps, when a fine deer started out from among the trees on our right into the open glade. My gun being ready, I fired, and felt sure that I had wounded the deer; but the animal still continued its course. The next instant the dogs appeared from the same direction, in hot chase after the deer.

We followed, joined by Kepenau and the other men. Marks of blood on the grass showed us that the deer had been wounded. Still, it might run, should the dogs not overtake it, for several miles, and might escape us after all. It was too valuable a prize to be lost, so we continued the pursuit.

The country now became much more open, and we saw that the deer had made its way across the plain. On the further side there were some lofty pines, towards which the animal appeared to have directed its course.

We had been running on for several minutes, when, before I could distinguish anything, the exclamations of the Indians showed me that the deer was in sight; and presently I saw it standing at bay under the trees, with the dogs yelping round it and preventing it from proceeding further.

When I got within gun-shot, I stopped for a moment to reload my rifle; and crying out to my friends not to get in the way, I again fired, and the noble beast rolled over. Kakaik then dashed forward with his hunting-knife, and quickly put an end to the creature's sufferings, while the rest beat off the dogs.

The deer was soon cut up, and each man loading himself with as much as he could carry, the venison was conveyed to the spot selected for an encampment; where two of them remained to take care of it while we went in search of more game.

We had been for some time beating about, when once more we heard the dogs giving tongue; and after making our way through the forest, and reaching the borders of an open glade, we caught sight of a herd of eight or ten deer scampering along at full speed, with the pack of dogs at their heels. We all of us fired, but although two or three shots took effect none of the deer stopped. We saw them directing their course towards the lake; but they ran faster than we did, and did not allow us an opportunity of firing. We managed, however, to keep them in view, and saw that they did not turn either to the right hand or to the left, so that we felt sure of overtaking them when they reached the shore of the lake.

Kakaik, who was on my left hand, made signs to me to accompany him towards the spot where we had left one of the canoes. I also understood him to signify that the dogs would prevent the deer from turning back. On reaching the canoe he lifted me into it, and stepping after me, seized a paddle, and with a few strokes sent it skimming out into the lake. Rounding a point, we soon caught sight of the deer, which stood on the shore with the dogs barking behind them. The shouts of some of the people who now came up increased the terror of the poor animals. First one plunged into the water, then another, and another; till the whole herd, with the exception of two which had fallen, were striking out in different directions, making for the opposite bank.

Kakaik pointed out one fine deer, and paddled towards it. I might have shot the animal, but my Indian companion made signs to me to use a spear which lay at the bottom of the canoe; so, standing up, I grasped the weapon with both my hands, and drove it with all my force into the creature's skull. In an instant its head went down, and its feet rising, it lay dead on the surface. Kakaik handed me a rope to cast round its antlers, and we forthwith towed it in triumph to the shore. This done, we made chase after a second deer, which was swimming across the lake towards a spot some little way off. Greatly to my satisfaction, I succeeded in striking this animal as I had done the first.

In the meantime the other canoe was paddling away in chase of two more deer, which had made towards the further end of the lake.

While we were occupied as I have described, I saw a third canoe, paddled by two strangers, darting out from behind a point in pursuit of another deer. Whether the people were friends or foes, I could not tell; but as soon as Kakaik saw them he declared that they were the latter, and that we must be prepared for an attack should they have many companions in the neighbourhood.

"Then let us at once tow our deer up the lake towards the camp, where we can obtain assistance," I said.

I now observed that those who had been unable to embark in the canoe were making their way in that direction. They had probably caught sight of the strange Indians. My fear was that Kepenau and Reuben might be attacked on their return. I made signs to my companion that we would land the deer and then go to the assistance of our friends. As Reuben and I had our rifles, and the strange Indians were probably without firearms, we might easily keep them in check or put them to flight; or should they venture to attack us, we might sink their canoes, even if we did not kill them with our rifle-bullets, before they got up to us.

As we reached the shore at the end of the lake, we found Mike and several of the Indians standing ready to receive us.

Mike was fall of fight. "Arrah! be aisy, Masther Roger," he said. "Sure, if the inimy come, I will sind them to the right-about wid me firelock, and they'll not be afther taking our venison from us in a hurry."

He and the Indians taking charge of the deer, which they immediately set about cutting up, Kakaik and I paddled off again down the lake to the assistance of our friends. The strange Indians had succeeded in capturing one of the deer; but as we considered that it was their lawful prize, although we had driven it into the water, we did not interfere with them.

Seeing another deer still swimming, though at considerable distance, I fired at it, for the purpose of showing the strange Indians, in case they should not have heard our other shots, that we had firearms, and thus probably prevent them attacking us. Whether or not my shot had taken effect I could not tell, as the deer continued to swim on towards the bank.

We now directed our course for our friends, who had killed the two deer of which they had gone in chase. I told them of the strangers we had seen; and Kakaik, in his own language, gave a long account to Kepenau of the matter.

"We will let them alone, if they do not molest us," answered Kepenau, after expressing his approval of my conduct.

Having secured the bodies of the two deer to ropes,—Kepenau and Reuben towing one, and Kakaik and I the other,—we began to paddle back towards the end of the lake from which we had come.

As we passed the part of the shore near which I had shot the last deer, we observed several Indians, who had seized the animal as it landed, and were now employed in cutting it up. They had evidently only one canoe with them, and were therefore afraid of coming off to attack us, whatever may have been their disposition. We might, therefore, consider ourselves masters of the seas.

Kepenau was well pleased with the success of our expedition, and having made up his mind to live at peace with his neighbours, he was very glad to avoid a collision with the strangers, even though we might come off victorious. "We must, however, be on the watch for them as we return homewards," he observed. "They may possibly greatly outnumber our party; and though our firearms will keep them in check, they may try to overcome us by stratagem."

The deer we had first killed were soon cut up, and all the best parts made ready for transportation to the camp. Those we had now towed on shore were treated in the same manner; and each man being loaded with as much as he could possibly carry, we set off for the camp. Here we found a blazing fire ready for cooking the venison, of which our friends ate an enormous quantity—with the exception of Kepenau, who was as moderate as we were.

Knowing that we had foes in the neighbourhood sentinels were posted, two of whom kept watch all the night round the camp; but the strangers, seeing us prepared, did not make their appearance, and on the following morning we started, an hour before dawn, on our return. Kepenau kept in the rear, turning round very frequently to ascertain if we were followed. He also gave his people directions to keep a look-out on either hand. Once he caught sight of a warrior's plume in the distance, but although his eyes were of the sharpest he could not discover whether his foe approached nearer. Before evening we arrived safely at his lodges; the ample supply of food we brought affording great satisfaction. The chief, however, did not fail to send out scouts to bring word whether the enemy had ventured into the neighbourhood. As no traces of them could be seen, Kepenau came to the conclusion that the strangers had gone off again to the westward, content with the game they had obtained. Still, he thought it prudent, in case of treachery, to keep on the watch; and day and night two or three of the party were constantly scouring the country round, in search of tracks made by strange Indians.

The time had now arrived for us to return. Mike had made himself a universal favourite; the Indians, notwithstanding their general gravity, delighting in the merry tunes he played on his fiddle. He frequently set them jigging; and Reuben and I showed them how white people danced— though neither of us had any exact notions on the subject. Ashatea sometimes joined us, and moved about very gracefully, performing figures of her own invention, which I have since discovered greatly resemble those of the minuet of Europe.

She often told me how much she longed to go back and stay with Lily. Native of the wilds as she was, she had gained a taste for civilised life, she told Reuben and me. We assured her that Lily and Dora would be delighted to see her, and that, if her father would allow her to accompany us, we should be glad to take her at once. This, however, Kepenau refused. He did not tell us why; only saying that he could not let her go unless he went with her, and for the present he must not leave his people, who had to hunt and fish, so as to lay in a store of provisions for the winter.

I should have said that at the back of the lodges were several pieces of cleared ground, on which Indian corn was growing and potatoes had been planted. This showed that Kepenau and his people were in advance of the hunting Indians, who trust only to the chase for subsistence, and are thereby frequently reduced to a state of starvation.

All the inhabitants of the camp turned out to wish us farewell, and offered up prayers for our safety as we stepped into our canoes. Kakaik and Reuben led the way in one canoe, and Mike and I followed in the other, flourishing our paddles over our heads as a farewell salute. We plied them diligently, and, gliding rapidly down the stream, were soon lost to sight. Having the current with us, we expected to reach home before nightfall, should no accident happen.

"I'm afther hoping that none of those Indians we saw the other day are lurking about, or maybe they will take a fancy to our packs of dried venison and skins, and stop us," observed Mike.

"What put that idea into your head?" I asked.

"Sure, because they are cunning spalpeens; and as they know the way we must take, they are likely enough to be on the watch for us," he replied.

"We must be on the watch for them, then," I answered, laughing. "If any of them appear, and look as if they intended to interfere with us, we shall have to show them the muzzles of our rifles; although, as I never have shot a man, I trust that I shall not be obliged to do so."

We paddled on for some time after this, and now and then we caught up Reuben's canoe and had a talk with him. I told him what Mike had said.

"Oh! I don't think there is much chance of that," he answered, lightly. "A few rifle-bullets will soon drive the fellows into the woods, if they show their noses."

We were now entering a part of the stream which ran between broken cliffs; on one side rocks rose almost perpendicularly from the water, their summits shaped like the parapets of ruined castles, while on the other the trees came down to the river's brink. Kakaik reminded us that we were approaching a series of rapids; and he explained by signs that he would lead the way, and advised Mike and me to keep exactly in his course. He and Reuben paddled on, therefore, while we followed at a little distance. We saw them descend one of the first rapids. Immediately below this, in a turn of the river, was another, the fall in which being probably about four or five feet, was not sufficient to endanger the safety of the canoes if carefully handled.

We were approaching the highest of the rapids, which, as I have said, the other canoe had just descended, when we saw an Indian dart out from behind the trunk of a tree growing close to the water, and point his arrow at the first canoe, aiming at Reuben. The arrow flew from the bow, but whether my friend was hit or not I could not say, as the canoe, darting down the rapid, was lost to sight.

We were too near the rapid to paddle back, for in turning round we should have run the risk of upsetting the canoe, when it would have been carried down sideways, and probably dashed to pieces. Our only safe course, therefore, was to dash forward; and we hoped to pass the Indian before he could perceive us, or have time to fix another arrow in his bow. Had we been in still water I might have lifted my rifle and shot the Indian, but I dared not leave my paddle for a moment. Down the rapid we dashed, then, paddling with might and main to turn the canoe so as to be ready for the next descent. The Indian had disappeared, but we heard his voice, calling, as we supposed, to his companions,—and directly afterwards we caught sight of him running along the bank among the trees; but he could not have seen us.

A short way below this was another and still more dangerous rapid. Kakaik signified that he had often shot it, but he at the same time advised that we should land and make a portage. To do this was now, however, out of the question, as we should be seized by the Indians on shore did we land on the side on which they were; the only practicable one along which we could make our way.

"Paddle, Mike! paddle!" I said in a low voice, fearing that I might be heard should I shout. "Our only chance is to dash down the rapid. We cannot stop to look out for rocks ahead, and must run all risks."

Mike saw this as well as I did. "Sure, it's the only thing to be done, any way. May all the saints in the calendar help us!" he exclaimed.

I don't think, however, that Mike had much faith in the saints, although he uttered the expression.

We dashed on, the water hissing and bubbling and foaming round us, and had almost reached the bottom, when I felt the bow of the canoe strike something. The next instant I found myself struggling in the seething waters, and instinctively striking out for dear life. Looking down the stream, I caught a glance of the canoe being rapidly hurried downwards, with Mike clinging to it. The next moment, he and the canoe had disappeared.

I had been carried down some distance, when, on more perfectly recovering my senses, I discovered that I was happily near the side opposite to that on which I had seen the Indians. I scrambled up on the bank, therefore, hoping to find some place of concealment before they could discover me. I had not gone far, however, before I recollected that my footprints would certainly betray me. I therefore retraced my steps and threw myself backwards into the water; and as I looked up towards the bank, I clearly perceived the marks I had left.

The river in this place was narrow, but though the current ran strong it was smooth, and I felt sure that I could swim across it and hide myself among some thick bushes which I saw growing over the water. It was my only hope of saving myself, and I determined to run the risk; but no time was to be lost, as the Indians might look up the stream and discover me. I struck out boldly, and found that I could stem the current, though it certainly required all the strength I possessed. I looked down the stream every now and then, to ascertain whether the Indians were returning, which I thought they might do when they saw only one person clinging to the canoe; otherwise I kept my eye as steadily as I could on the bushes for which I was making. Of course, I might have crossed the stream much more easily by allowing myself to be carried down with the current, but then I should have landed much below the place where I hoped to find concealment. I could distinguish for some time, even amid the roar of the waters, the voices of the Indians as they shouted to each other; but they gradually became fainter and fainter, and this gave me encouragement, as it informed me that they were getting further off.

Even then I thought of poor Mike. What might be his fate, should he be captured by the Indians? His fiddle, and probably everything else in the canoe, would be lost, and he would have no means of softening their savage hearts. With his fiddle in his hand, I felt that he might succeed in saving his life. It may seem strange that such thoughts entered my mind at that time; but the truth is, I was less anxious about myself than I was about him.

I had got more than half-way across when I began to find my strength failing me. It seemed that I should never reach the shore; still, I struck out, straining every nerve. I was afraid at length that I should be obliged to allow myself to be carried down by the current, and be glad to cling to the first rock or bough I could reach. My eyes were growing dim, and I could scarcely see the bushes on which they had so long been fixed. Still I struggled on, determined if possible to succeed. Suddenly I felt myself caught by an eddy, and the next instant I was carried close under the bank. I was about to grasp one of the branches, when I recollected that the sharp eyes of the Indians would discover where my hand had crushed the leaves, so I resisted the temptation, turning myself on my back for a minute to rest; then I dived down, and came up again in the very middle of the bush.

I now without fear drew myself out of the water, and climbing up, discovered a thick trunk hollowed out by age, the larger portion of which had been broken off either by a storm or lightning, the boughs having sprung out of the remainder—forming, indeed, a natural pollard. No concealment could have been more perfect; for even an Indian's eye would fail to penetrate through the bark. By slipping down I was concealed on all sides, while at the same time a slit in the trunk afforded me a "look-out" through the boughs in the direction of the river. Here, therefore, I considered that I was safe for the present. The difficulty would be to get away; although I might remain concealed as long as I should desire, hunger would at length compel me to leave my hiding-place in search of food. I remained crouched down, listening anxiously for any sounds which might indicate the whereabouts of the Indians. Mike, I felt sure, had he escaped drowning, would be captured by them; but I had hopes that Reuben and his companion, by being so much ahead, might escape altogether.

The ground was excessively rough; numerous high rocky ridges, and intervening spaces filled by trees and dense underwood, abounded.

The fact that the Indians had been so long shouting to each other convinced me that they had not up to that time captured the first canoe. As I heard no one approaching, I should not have been afraid of leaving my hiding-place; but then I knew that my footsteps would betray me.

I must have remained an hour or more, when I heard voices in the distance. The sounds came nearer, and I knew that the Indians were returning. I scarcely dared to draw breath. They passed close to the tree in which I lay concealed; but I did not venture to look out, lest they should discover me. I was sure as they went along that they were trying to discover my trail. I knew, too, by the voices, that there was only a small party. What had become of the rest?

I calculated, by the direction their voices came from, that they were making their way up the stream. Some distance off, the low cliffs between which the river forced its way were surmounted by trees, which formed a natural bridge. I knew, therefore, that should they wish to get to the opposite side they might easily pass over.