"Hearin' ye were lately appointed Governmint gardner, we sind a sample of our goods. Eny orders ye can sind will receive prompt attintion.

"Green and Brown, manufacturing company,

"County of Limerick,

"Ireland."

"Of course it's a joke, Cahill," I said. "But where's the sample?"

"Shure, I buried it behind the shanty; it's a wooden hoe, cut out o' the root of a three, I think I know who sint it," he went on, drawing near, with another cautious look round.

"It was wrapped up wid some copies of the _Ottawa Citizen_ newspaper, an' there are only two min on the line that take it at all. So ye see I can spot them!" Fumbling in his pockets, he produced a sc.r.a.p of the paper, and, turning it this way and that, discovered some writing which, upon close inspection, proved to be my own name. His tormentors had wrapped it in one of the papers I had lent him.

To describe the old man's wrath and astonishment, mingled with keen sense of fun (for an Irishman _can_ see a joke, even against himself), is impossible. I had little trouble in persuading him that to take no notice of either parcel or "spicification" would be the best way to disappoint his foes. Long afterwards, whenever I met him, he gave me a knowing side glance of mutual understanding that was irresistible.

In the mean time, the house was fast being rebuilt on the old site, but on a much improved plan. The former had been a two-story building of squared logs, and, to my eyes, an insult to the landscape. The new one, a low cottage of rough logs, seemed to fit into the valley without marring the view from any point. The beautiful wooded hall to the north, which had been completely shut out by the old house, now formed a lovely background to the cottage and garden.

The little Frenchman Martin, the master builder, was another character in his way; a lively, energetic little fellow, whose eyes were everywhere.

Not the driving in of a single nail escaped him. Yet, with all his watchfulness, he did more work than any three of his men. The habitual use of salt pork and beans, added to the total absence of vegetable diet during the long winter and summer, had caused scurvy to break out among the men, and poor Martin was suffering very much from it. To keep him in better health until the house was finished, Mrs. C---- supplied him with potatoes, which he ate raw, sliced and soaked in vinegar; and I believe, from a conversation I overheard between him and one of his men, that these raw potatoes, bread, and tea const.i.tuted the man's entire food for the last six weeks of his work on the line. Many others had not even the potatoes, yet they daily pa.s.sed the garden, where lettuces and other vegetables, a cure for their sufferings, grew in profusion, and did not take a leaf. I know, had I been in like case, early training would have gone to the winds, and the eighth Commandment have become a dead letter.

We had unusual opportunities of seeing the real life of a navvy while we lived in the shanty. Our men came from nearly all parts of the world--Russia, Sweden, Germany, Holland, Iceland, Ireland, Great Britain, and the Dominion. There were also many Scotch and French half-breeds, as well as full-blooded Indians, among them, the contractors finding that a.s.sociating the various nationalities in camp was more conducive to peace and obedience than when a large number of fellow-countrymen formed a gang. Next to us, in reality under the same roof, was the store, containing everything a navvy could want--from hats and boots to pickles and tobacco.

Sunday, the only day off work, was the general shopping day, and as it was also mail day the place was crowded, and the week's news discussed. A little below the store was another large shanty, where about a hundred and twenty men lived, the kitchen ruled over by a tall and rather good-looking Frenchman, who had lived amongst the Indians at Fort Francis so long that he spoke their language as well as they did. "Black Joe," as he was generally called, was an authority amongst the men, and was very fond of a little black poodle, which he cared for as a child, spending all his leisure, moments in fondling it and teaching it tricks. He had an a.s.sistant named Ironsides, who was not only "cookee," but could sew up and dress a cut as well as the doctor, and his services were very often called into requisition.

Sunday was washing day in camp, too; every tub was in use, and every low branch or rude fence hung with the men's clothes. In one place you would see a man sitting on a stump to have his hair cut; another repairing the week's wear and tear of his garments. A group of interested listeners lie or sit round the happy possessor of the latest paper, who is reading it aloud. Others, of livelier tastes, gather round an accordion-player, who gives the "Ma.r.s.eillaise" with the fire and feeling of a true artist. Some hard workers, whose idea of pleasure is perfect rest, lie on their backs in the sun, with their hats tilted over their faces, sound asleep, heedless of the roars of laughter from a cl.u.s.ter of men, to whom old Cahill is relating one of his most wonderful stories; others stand before a small looking-gla.s.s, hung against a tree, performing their toilets with immense satisfaction; while more active spirits are on their way to the lake, with their fishing tackle, for a long day's sport.

Card-playing was forbidden in camp. Of course there were a few who gambled in defiance of orders, but when detected they were at once dismissed by the superintendent, who declared that they ought not to profane the Sabbath. Mr. K---- was strict, and apparently severe with the men, yet he was a general favourite. He avowed one day that he could manage any number of men, but the "weemin were beyond him." The contractor had tried employing women cooks, believing that they would be more economical than the men; but those he engaged were such a trouble to look after, that he declared "either he or thim weemin would have to leave the line." One woman cook was called by the men "7-10," from her great size, and her camp being at 7-10 station. On her way across the Lake of the Woods after her dismissal, the big steamer, as usual, ran on a rock, and the pa.s.sengers had to be transferred to a row-boat large enough to hold thirty people. "7-10" refusing a.s.sistance, and attempting to jump into the boat, jumped completely _over_ it, and was dragged out of the water by the laughing crew, who dubbed the rock "7-10's Leap."

Mr. C---- had all the stores of provisions which were saved from the fire put into a small root-house under the north hill. The ice in the lakes having broken up unusually early the bad state of the roads during the winter made it necessary for all supplies brought out on the contract to be "packed"--that is, carried on men's backs. Each man being paid two dollars a day, and not averaging more than sixteen miles, made this a very expensive process; consequently our supplies became valuable, only what was absolutely indispensable being sent for till the Dawson road was pa.s.sable and the steamer running. One morning I saw Cahill peering into the root-house, and evidently watching something with great interest.

Then he ran to the shanty for his gun, and my curiosity being aroused, I inquired what was the matter. Touching the brim of his old straw hat, he replied, "Shure, it's fine prey I've got to shoot this mornin', Miss F----.

As beautiful a skunk as ever ye see!" and levelling the gun, he was about to shoot, when memories of former odours made me implore him to desist. "But he'll ate all the pork!" the old fellow remonstrated, much aggrieved at being deprived of so fine an opportunity of displaying his prowess. I a.s.sured him that, if let alone, the "beautiful skunk" would go quietly away when he had enjoyed a good meal; but, if disturbed, he would use his natural weapon of defence, and destroy everything in the root-house. But--

"A man convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still,"

and old Cahill, though he shouldered his weapon and walked away, grumbled as he went. We paid frequent visits to the root-house that morning to see if the intruder had gone, but he did not leave until the middle of the second day. Skunks, or polecats, are not numerous in that part of the country. The dogs sometimes came in from a hunt very strongly scented by them, but, with the exception of our visitor, we never saw one about the premises. They abound in prairies and swampy grounds, and when attacked the odour they emit is overpowering and indescribable; without exception the worst that ever a.s.sailed our nostrils.

As the spring wore on we spent the brightening days in gathering wild-flowers, going fishing, and repeating the weekly routine of a quiet life in the woods. The weather grew hotter, the flies more plentiful, and our highest gratification seemed to be to make a good smudge in the evening, sit round it, and talk. How gladly we welcomed the first strawberries and blue-berries which pretty Mrs. Bucketee, as we called her, brought to us! She got the name from always being hungry (_bucketee_), when she came, and she laughed merrily one day when called so inadvertently. We ourselves went out and gathered several pailsful from the rocks on the first portage. Blue-berries, or knuckle-berries as they are called in Ontario, grow much larger in the North-west than I ever saw them elsewhere, being sometimes as large as small Delaware grapes. The little bushes grow thickly in the crevices of the rocks, and are so completely covered with fruit that their tiny leaves are scarcely visible. They have a beautiful bloom upon them when fresh, and are cool and delicious to the taste.

Summer swiftly pa.s.sed, and the time drew near when I was to leave Lake Deception, and, after staying a day or two at each of the other houses on the line, turn my steps eastward, back to what my friends called civilized life. It was not without many a heartache that I bade good-bye to the wee bairns whom I loved so dearly, knowing that, though my regrets might be lifelong, in their childish hearts the pain of parting would be but the grief of an hour.

CHAPTER XIV.

For Ostersund--Lake Lulu--Giant Rocks and Pigmy Mortals--The Island Garden--Heaven's Artillery--Strange Casualty at the Ravine--My Luggage nearly blown up--The Driver's Presence of Mind--How to carry a Canoe--Darlington Bay--An Invisible Lake--Lord and Lady Dufferin--A Paddle to the Lakes--The Captain's Tug--Monopoly of Water-carriage--Indian Legends--The Abode of Snakes.

The 27th of August dawned sultry and oppressive, but having decided to leave Inver for a long-promised visit to Ostersund on that day, and feeling that if I did not get the parting with the children over at once I should never succeed in going away at all, I determined to carry out my intention, although by doing so I was obliged to forego the pleasure of visiting Kalmar, which I regretted very much.

Mr. K---- and Mr. F---- came for me about two o'clock, and sending the man on with my travelling-bag, I prepared to enjoy the first long walk I had taken since I left Ontario. From the top of the east rock I took my last look at the spot where I had spent nearly sixteen months, on which I shall always look back with kindly memories. Clinging to the rough railing, and walking quickly over the floating logs, we were soon across the boom in Lake Deception, and over the first short portage to Lake Beau-Beau--or "Champagne Charlie" Lake--a beautiful sheet of water, with several pretty islands, along whose southern sh.o.r.e the Canada Pacific Railway line runs.

Catching sight of a boat, which probably belonged to a gang of men who were at work with pulleys, removing great fragments of rock from a cutting near, Mr. F---- took possession of it, and we rowed across, ignoring the fatigue of the poor navvies, who, after a hard day's work, would have to walk round the lake to recover their property.

On the opposite sh.o.r.e part of the trail lay through a long, narrow valley, where it became such a mere path that two could not walk abreast; then it pa.s.sed over such lofty hills, and into such sudden dips of valley land, that one could not help speculating as to the immense cost of filling up and levelling to bring the line to the proper grade. We skirted the sh.o.r.es of Lake Lulu, whose blue waters glistened in the afternoon sun, as we caught a momentary glimpse through the trees of the tiny hill, where a clear fresh spring tempted us to sit on the gnarled trunk of a fallen tree and refresh ourselves. How small we felt by involuntary comparison with the gigantic rock towering above our heads, or even with the huge fragments thrown out and scattered at its base! I wonder if future ages will look upon these blocks of stone as we do upon Stonehenge, and conjecture with what powerful weapons we ancients could have moved them, or what convulsion of nature had dislodged them from their bed, and thrown them headlong into the lovely dell.

I should like to linger over the delightful three weeks I spent at Ostersund, and describe in detail the tranquil pleasures of every day.

How we sat working with the children, through long, quiet mornings, on the small s.p.a.ce cleared in front of the house, or wandered through the woods in search of mosses and ferns; how we went for long paddles on Lake Lulu, either in the bright afternoon, when we took the children with us over to the island garden, returning with supplies of ripe red tomatoes, or in the clear, silent evenings, when we pushed out the canoe in any direction--for all were charming--watching the glowing sunset die beyond the hills, and the Indian camp fires wake to life along the sh.o.r.es.

One of the strangest thunderstorms I ever saw raged while I was at Ostersund. The whole day had been warm, and as night fell the air became sultry, and the sky a.s.sumed a leaden hue. Directly west of us, the only bit of horizon we could see was across the line of railway; on either side of this, high wooded rocks, some few hundred feet from the line, dropped to a much lower level than that on which the house stood, and beyond the brow of this declivity the sky had the appearance of a huge fire, whose bright-red flames shot up into great clouds of rolling, whirling smoke, their inky hue gradually expanding until the whole sky became covered. Still the flames raged on in a weird stillness broken only by the sound of rushing wind, the crackling and swaying of branches, or a low, distant moan that warned us the storm was on its way. For more than half an hour we watched the horizon, scarcely believing that its strange hue was not really the reflection of a fire in the woods, till, with a report as of a thousand cannon crashing on all sides, and the fierce blast of a tornado, the storm was upon us. It spent itself, however, in that one blast; the red light gradually paled and died, stars peeped through the riven clouds, and the muttering thunder rolled away to the south.

A culvert was being built close to the house, and we took the greatest interest in the proceedings of all concerned--from the oxen, with their tinkling bells, labouring up the steep with the heavy timbers in tow, to the sad-faced contractor and his jovial, good-looking partner. As I stood one morning watching the latter go up with a springing step to the top, to superintend the placing of a beam, I saw the chain below snap, and at the same instant the huge beam swung round, striking the contractor, who, with a groan, fell headlong to the bottom of the ravine--a distance of twenty feet. Instantly half a dozen men sprang down and pulled him up, while another ran for Mr. K----, who telegraphed for the doctor. Most fortunately, a cross stick against which the poor man struck had broken his fall, and except for a few bruises and the shock he was unhurt, and back at work again in a few days.

I lingered on at Ostersund until I heard that my heavy luggage had arrived at Kuwatin, _via_ Clear Water Bay and the Lake of the Woods, having had a narrow escape on its way over the portage. The horse ran away, and dragged the cart over a number of nitro-glycerine cans. The driver fled in terror, but returned some time afterward, and was astonished to find an atom of either horse, cart, or luggage remaining.

The driver was not wanting in bravery either, for a few days before, the left wheel of his cart had come in contact with a stump and turned over, the whole weight of the horse's body falling upon the man. Knowing that the load in the cart was too heavy for the horse to raise una.s.sisted, and that if he struggled he would be pounded to death, he had the presence of mind to seize the brute by the ear and hold his head to the ground until a.s.sistance came--an hour and a half afterwards--when the poor fellow was too exhausted and numbed to get up.

As it was necessary that I should repack my luggage before sending it to Winnipeg, I was obliged to tear myself away from Ostersund, hoping to see my friends again before I left the contract altogether. This hope, however, was not fulfilled, and it was a last farewell I took of them as they stood on the rustic wharf, while Mr. K---- pushed off the birch-bark canoe on which I was lounging. Paddling along the east sh.o.r.e, rather close in, as the lake was rough, we soon reached the portage to Middle Lake. Lifting the canoe well out of the water, and turning it over, Mr.

K---- raised it above his head; then, slipping the paddles on his shoulders, and across the bars of the canoe, he carried it with ease up the steep bank and down the hill to the other lake. In this way Indians will carry, or, as they call it, "portage," their canoes for long distances. Middle Lake is long, narrow, and swampy-looking, less pretty than any we crossed on our way out. Leaving the canoe at the next portage well drawn in under the trees, and the paddles carefully hidden in the underbrush, lest any stray traveller should take advantage of it, we walked the remaining two miles to Darlington Bay.

The heavy rains of the week before had made parts of the track very wet, but by jumping from one log to another, and utilizing stones scattered from the cuttings, we managed to cross very well. One of the most beautiful spots is where the line crosses War Eagle Rock Lake. Until on the very brow of the rocky, perpendicular sh.o.r.e, one does not suspect the existence of a lake, and when nearly there I laughed as Mr. K---- asked how wide a lake I thought there was between us and the trail leading through some trees apparently close by. A moment later I paused in astonishment. At our feet, full sixty feet below, lying between two walls of rock, which looked as though an earthquake had rent it apart to leave s.p.a.ce for the sparkling water, was the lake of the romantic name. Below the boom, which is eighty feet across, the breach widened, leaving s.p.a.ce for a tiny rocky island with only sufficient foliage upon it to make it picturesque--a natural fortress to guard the opening into the broad, beautiful sheet of water which lay beyond.

A blacksmith's forge hidden amid the trees, with the brawny smith singing over his work, was the only object of interest we pa.s.sed before reaching Darlington, the contractor's head-quarters, where Mr. K---- was to leave me.

The bay is an arm of the waters of the Winnipeg River, about three miles from its outlet--a low, swampy-looking place. There is a cl.u.s.ter of shanties for the men, and another serving as offices, with a remnant of civilization in one narrow window, in the shape of a doctor's sign; which hangs crooked, however, as if ashamed of the bad company it has got into.

Further on are two log-houses with rather more pretension to comfort about them, where the contractor and his chief engineer lived. I remained two days with Mrs. W----, the contractor's wife, whose kind hospitality will never be forgotten by me, and went on to Kuwatin on Sat.u.r.day evening. Mr. F----'s house there is built on the top of the high, rocky land which commands a view of the Lake of the Woods and the Winnipeg River, and is close to the portage path over which Lord and Lady Dufferin and their party crossed when on their trip through Manitoba the previous summer, camping at night on the sh.o.r.es of the river.

After spending Sunday morning in packing baggage to be sent by the Dawson route, we went for a paddle up to the rapids. When the canoe had taken us as far as possible, we got out and clambered over the rocks into the foam. The mouth of the Winnipeg is divided into two channels by a large island; the lower, on which we were, is a succession of rapids each more beautiful than the last. Skirting the sh.o.r.e through a pretty, wooded path, we reached a bare hill above the highest rapid. At our feet the water ran smooth and clear round a bend on the river below. A little further it dashed against great rocks, sending the spray whirling in clouds over their heads where jagged edges fretted it as it pa.s.sed, or forming clear, deep, dark pools between their smooth and solid sides.

Then it swirled round a tiny island, beyond which a long ridge of piled-up rocks stretched its bare sides almost across the stream, as though to stay its impetuous course. The varied expanse of water, framed in overhanging trees, and rocks which rose black against the glowing sky, while the setting sun tinted every jet of spray with crimson and gold, formed a picture I would have liked to carry away with me in more than memory. Over many of the deep pools there were long poles with baited lines, and there, too, the Indians catch large fish with both spear and net.

Half a mile above the rapids, we reached the partially bored tunnel through the island which divides the river, the rocks blasted out being used to fill up the embankment at the crossing. A few days before, this spot had been the scene of a narrow escape from drowning. Two gentlemen, who attempted to cross in a birch-bark canoe too near the rapids, were caught by the eddy round the point; the canoe was capsized, and went to pieces over the first rapid, while the canoeists, with great difficulty, swam to the further sh.o.r.e, striking it only a few feet above the rapid--barely enough to save their lives.

Returning from the tunnel, we went into a low-roofed shanty, lately occupied by a family of nine. Its accommodation consisted of bunks built into the wall for beds, with some dirty hay in them, a smoky mud chimney, a hole dug in the middle of the mud floor to let off the water that dripped through the roof, and the door hanging loose on its dried skin hinges. There was no window, and but for the many gaps between the logs of the walls, the inmates must have had very little air.

On Sunday, the 29th of September, soon after seven o'clock in the morning, loaded with wraps, satchel-bags, and baskets, our travelling party was on the way down a muddy hill to the little tug awaiting it. Our old friend, Captain W----, greeting us enthusiastically, and busied himself in improvising seats for us with our bags and bale of blankets.

The little tug had been built by the captain's own hands, and he naturally thought a great deal of it, but in our eyes it seemed the shakiest-looking craft we had ever been afloat in. Blackened with smoke, exposure, and hard usage, it was yet thoroughly seaworthy, and although it rolled about until well under weigh, was not uncomfortable. The stern was roofed, but the rain drove in at the open sides, until we stretched some waterproofs across from one upright to another. The engine fires underneath, where the energetic one-eyed stoker was not sparing of fuel, made it very warm, and before long I found my way round the tiny wheel-house to the bow, and settling myself as comfortably as I could upon a saw-horse, enjoyed my trip over the lake in spite of the drizzling rain.

As we pa.s.sed the Hudson Bay Company's post at that portage, the man at the wheel pointed out the channel he would take when carrying supplies for the work on the next portion of the Canada Pacific Railway, which would "likely be worked next year;" and the confident tone of monopoly of the traffic on the lake with which the man spoke raised vague speculations as to the mine of wealth this little creaky boat must be to the four men who built and worked it, their expenditure being literally confined to their own provisions, the oil burnt in their lanterns, and the cost of cutting the wood for fires.

A long canoe, paddled by two grinning young squaws, shot out from the company's post, and for a time kept alongside us. About nine we entered the Narrows, a pa.s.sage only just wide enough to allow the tug to pa.s.s, and were quickly in the Lake of the Woods. I tried before to recall the impression made by the beauties of this exquisite lake, when crossing it for the first time. Its islands and sh.o.r.es were then clad in all the young verdure of the spring; now they wore all the glory of the autumn, in hues of crimson, yellow, red, and gold--dark pines blending with and forming backgrounds to the loveliest scenes that painter ever traced or pen described. As I sat on the old saw-horse, vainly endeavouring to grasp all the beauty around, the man at the wheel told me the legends of each point and island, gathered from the Ojibbeways during his life among them. If any unwary traveller ran his canoe on yonder great dark island, closely wooded to the sh.o.r.e, braving the wrath of the _Mutaha Manito_ (Bad Spirit), who claimed it as his own, storms would be sent over the lake by the offended deity, wrecks and misery alone appeasing him. A Pale-face once, scorning the warning of the Redskin, had landed there, and even dared to build a fire on its sh.o.r.es; but before the sun again set he found an unknown grave in the great lake. Never in the memory of the Indians had such a terrific storm raged as after the perpetration of the impious act.

Further on we saw, in a broad expanse of water, a long, narrow, lonely island, its trees low and stunted, its underbrush so matted that it would seem impenetrable, where the _Kichee Manito_ (Great Spirit), grieving that the likeness of the _Mutaha Manito_, the _Kennebeck_ (serpent), should trouble his children when upon the chase, or in their homes in the good land he had given them, and yet too merciful to destroy, sent his messengers in the silent night to gather all the serpents together. He gave them this island to live in, bidding his children leave them unmolested. And the poor Indian, in his grat.i.tude, has never disobeyed the behest. Another beautiful island is the resting-place of the Great Spirit when he pays his rare visits to earth, and the Indian leaves upon its sh.o.r.es his choicest fish of the first catch of the season, and the first-fruits of the chase as his oblation. Another green hilly island is the grave of the braves, where they are laid until the spirits come to lead them to the happy hunting grounds.

CHAPTER XV.

Clear Water Bay transformed--Cahill's Farewell--Ptarmigan Bay--A Night under Canvas--"No more Collars or Neckties!"--Companions in Misfortune--Cedar Lake--"Lop-sticks"--An Indian Village--Shashegheesh's Two Wives--Buying Potatoes--_Seniores Priores_--Excellent Carrots!--Frank's Flirtations with the Squaws--The Dogs eat Carriere's Toboggan.