"Is the beaver flesh good?"

"Yes, ma'am, very tolerable eating; perhaps the best we find at that time."

"But what a miserable life that must be," said Mrs. Campbell.

"Well, ma'am, you may think so, but we hunters think otherwise," replied Malachi; "we are used to it, and to being left alone to our own thoughts."

"That's true," observed Martin; "I'd rather pa.s.s the winter hunting beavers, than pa.s.s it at Quebec, miserable as you may imagine the life to be."

"There must be a charm in the life, that is certain," observed Mr.

Campbell; "for how many are engaged in it who go out year after year, and never think of laying up any of their earnings."

"Very true, sir," replied Martin; "what they make from their skins is spent as soon as they get to Quebec, as I know well, and then they set off again."

"Why they are like sailors," observed Alfred, "who, after a long cruise, spend all their wages and prize-money in a few days, and then go to sea again for more."

"Exactly," replied Malachi; "and what's the use of money if you keep it?

A trapper can always take up as much powder and ball as he wants upon credit, and pay with a portion of his skins on his return. What does he want with the rest? It's of no use to him, and so of course he spends it."

"But would it not be better to put it by until he had sufficient to buy a farm, and live comfortably?"

"But does he live comfortably, ma'am?" said Malachi; "has he not more work to do, more things to look after, and more to care for with a farm, than when he has nothing?"

"It's very true philosophy, after all," observed Mr. Campbell; "happy is the man who is content to be poor. If a man prefers to live entirely upon flesh, as the hunters do, there is no reason why he should work hard and till the ground to procure bread; when the wants are few, the cares are few also; but still, even the savage must feel the necessity of exertion when he has a wife and family."

"Yes, sir, to be sure he does, and he works hard in his own way to procure their food; but trappers seldom have wives; they would be no use to them in the woods, and they have no one to provide for but themselves."

"It appears to me like a savage life, but a very independent one," said Mrs. Campbell, "and I presume it is the independence which gives it such charms."

"That's it, depend upon it, ma'am," replied Martin.

"But what do you do all the summer time, Malachi?"

"Why, ma'am, we take to our rifles then; there are the deer, and the lynx, and the wild cats, and squirrels, and the bear, and many other animals to look after; and sometimes we go bee-hunting, for the honey."

"Pray tell us how you take the honey, Malachi."

"Why, ma'am, the bees always live in the hollow of the old trees, and it's very difficult in a forest to find them out, for the hole which they enter by is very small and very high up sometimes; however, when we get a lead, we generally manage it."

"Tell us what you mean, Malachi."

"We catch the bees as they settle upon the flowers to obtain honey, and then we let them go again. The bee, as soon as it is allowed to escape, flies straight toward its hive; we watch it till we can no longer see it, and walk in that direction and catch another, and so we go on till we see them settle upon a tree, and then we know that the hive and honey must be in that tree, so we cut it down."

"How very clever," said Percival.

"It requires a sharp eye though," said Martin, "to watch the bee far; some of the trappers catch the bees and give them sugar mixed with whisky. This makes them tipsy, and they can not fly so fast, and then they discover the hive much sooner, as they can run almost as fast as the bee flies."

"That's capital," cried Percival; "but tell me, Martin, how do you kill the bears?"

"Why, Master Percival, with our rifles, to be sure; the easiest way to kill them is when they are in their holes in the hollow trees."

"How do you get them out?"

"Why, we knock the tree with our axes, and they come out to see what's the matter, and as soon as they put their heads out, we shoot them."

"Are you in earnest, Martin?"

"Yes, ma'am; quite in earnest," replied Martin.

"It's all true, ma'am," said the hunter; "the bears about here are not very savage. We had much worse down in Maine. I've seen the Indians in a canoe on a river watching the bears as they swam across, and kill in the water six or seven in one day."

"Still a bear is an awkward sort of animal when it's angry," replied Martin; "and, as we may have them down here in the autumn, it's as well not to let them be thought too lightly of."

"Indeed, there's no fear of that," said Emma; "as for Malachi, he thinks nothing dangerous; but I have no wish to see a bear. You say we may expect them, Martin. Why so?"

"Because, miss, they are very fond of maize, and we have a field of it sown, which may tempt them."

"Well, if they do come, I must trust to my rifle," replied Emma, laughing; "at all events, I do not fear them so much as I did when I first came here."

"Don't fire, miss, without you're sure of killing," said Malachi. "The creatures are very dangerous when wounded."

"Don't be afraid; I'll only fire in self-defense, Malachi; that is, when I have no other chance left. I had rather trust to my heels than my rifle. Were you ever hugged by a bear?"

"Well, I wasn't ever hugged; but once I was much closer to one than ever I wish to be again."

"Oh! when was that? Do, pray, tell us," said Emma.

"It was when I was young, that one day I sounded a tree in the forest with my ax, and I was certain that a bear was in it: but the animal did not show itself, so I climbed up the tree to examine the hole at the top, and see if the bear was at home; as, if so, I was determined to have him out. Well, miss, I was on the top of the hollow trunk, and was just putting my head down into the hole, when, all of a sudden, the edge of the tree which I kneeled upon gave way, like so much tinder, and down I went into the hollow; luckily for me I did not go down head foremost, or there I should have remained till this time, for the hole in the middle of the tree, as I found, was too narrow for me to have turned in, and there I must have stuck. As it was, I went down with the dust and crumbles smothering me almost, till I came right on the top of the bear, who lay at the bottom, and I fell with such force, that I doubled his head down so that he could not lay hold of me with his teeth, which would not have been pleasant; indeed, the bear was quite as much, if not more astonished than myself, and there he lay beneath me, very quiet, till I could recover a little. Then I thought of getting out, as you may suppose, fast enough, and the hollow of the tree, providentially, was not so wide but that I could work up again with my back to one side and my knees to the other. By this means I gradually got up again to the hole that I fell in at, and perched myself across the timber to fetch my breath. I had not been there more than a quarter of a minute, and I intended to have remained much longer, when I perceived, all of a sudden, the bear's head within a foot of me; he had climbed up after me, and I saw that he was very angry, so in a moment I threw myself off my perch, and down I went to the ground at the foot of the tree, a matter of near twenty feet, even faster than I went down inside of it. I was severely shaken with the fall, but no bones were broken; in fact, I was more frightened than hurt; I lay quite still for a little while, when the growl of the bear put me in mind of him; I jumped on my legs, and found that he was coming down the tree after me, and was within six feet of the ground. There was no time to lose; I caught up my rifle, and had just time to put it to his ear and settle him, as he was placing his fore-foot on the ground."

"What a narrow escape!"

"Well, perhaps it was, but there's no saying, miss, which beats till the fight is over."

CHAPTER XXIV.

A notice arrived that the departure of the boat to Montreal would take place on the next morning. When the boat came up, it brought Captain Sinclair, to the great delight of the whole party, who had felt very anxious about one with whom they had so long been intimate and who had shown them so much kindness. His knee was almost well, and as soon as the first interrogations were over, he made known to them that he had obtained six weeks' leave of absence, and was about to proceed to Quebec.

"To Quebec!" cried Emma, "and why are you going to Quebec?"

"To confess the truth, Emma," said Captain Sinclair, "my journey to Quebec is but the preparatory step to my return to England for perhaps two or three months."

"To England! Oh! how I wish--;" but here Emma stopped; she was going to say how much she wished that she was going also, but her uncle and aunt were present, and, recollecting that it might pain them and induce them to think that she was discontented, she added, "that you would bring me out all the new fashions."

"All the new fashions, my dear Emma?" said Henry. "Why, do you wish to be fashionably dressed in the woods of Canada?"