The oars were dipped at once, and the men pulled with a will, encouraged by the conversation, which seemed to indicate the approaching end of their voyage.

The lake over the bosom of which they were soon sweeping proved to be a small one, as they had hoped, but whether it was the one referred to by the Indians remained to be seen. A sharp look-out was kept for the smoke of wigwams, but nothing of the kind was seen on either side, and the end of the lake was finally reached without any sign of the presence of natives being observed.

"No doubt Mozwa has forgotten, or it may be that he iss away to seek for his frund n.a.z.inred among the Eskimos. No metter. We will camp here, whatever, for the night. I think on the other side o' that point will be a goot campin' ground."

He pointed in the direction indicated, and there was just daylight enough left to enable Mowat to steer into a narrow creek.

There is something calming, if not almost solemnising, in the quietude with which a boat glides ash.o.r.e, on a dark night, under the overhanging trees of a wilderness lake. The oars are necessarily stopped, and the voices hushed, while the bowman, standing erect, with a long pole in hand, tries to penetrate the thick mysterious darkness that seems to be the very gate of Erebus. Bartong stood ready to thrust the head of the boat off any rocks that might suddenly appear in their course, or give the order to "back all" should the water become too shallow. But no obstacles presented themselves, and the boat forged slowly ahead until it lay alongside a ledge of rock or natural jetty. Then the spell was broken as the men leaped ash.o.r.e and began to unload the things that were required for the night's bivouac.

Still, the voices were moderated, for it is not easy to shake off the tranquillising effect of such a scene at such an hour, and it was not till the camp-fire was lighted, and the kettles were on, and the pipes going full blast, that the cheering effect of light chased the depressing influence of darkness away.

Then, indeed, MacSweenie, dropping the _role_ of leader, a.s.sumed that of _bon camarade_; and Mowat, descending from the dignity of steersman, enlarged upon his experiences in other days; and Bartong, still retaining his dignity however, relaxed his anxious frown and listened with an air of intelligent appreciation that charmed every speaker, and induced the belief that he could cap every anecdote and story if he only chose to open his mouth; while the men divided their sympathies between the narratives, the tobacco-pipes, and the music of the frying-pan and bubbling kettle.

Then, too, the darkness into which they had penetrated fled away,--not indeed entirely, but forsaking the bright spot thus created in the wilderness, it encircled the camp as with a wall of ebony.

It was not long, however, ere appet.i.tes were appeased, and the voyagers sought repose; for men who have to work hard all day at a healthy occupation are not addicted to late hours--at least not in the wildernesses of the nor'-west. Ere long every man was rolled in his blanket, stretched out with his feet to the fire and his head on his coat, while the blaze sank low, until at last the red embers alone remained to render darkness visible.

Among the last to seek repose were the leader of the expedition, the interpreter, and the bowman. Having the cares of state on their shoulders, these three naturally drew together for a little consultation after the others had retired.

"What iss your opeenion, Bartong?" asked MacSweenie, pushing down the tobacco in his pipe with the end of a very blunt and much charred forefinger; "do you think the savitches will come here at all?"

"Maybe they will, and maybe they won't," answered the guide, with a caution worthy of the Scottish portion of his blood. "We niver know what Injins is goin' to do till they do it."

"Umph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Highlander; "if Solomon had been your grandfather you could scarcely hev made a wiser speech.--What think you, Tonal'?"

"Weel, as ye put it to me, I must say that I'm strongly of Bartong's opeenion."

"Just so," remarked MacSweenie, with a thoughtful air; "so, as I agree wi' you both, I think it iss about time for us all to turn in."

He turned in accordingly, by lying back in his place and drawing his blanket over him.

The other statesmen immediately followed his example, and the camp subsided into silence.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE OUTPOST, AND EFFECT OF A "FUDDLE."

Soon afterwards the expedition of the fur-traders reached the Ukon River, a comparatively insignificant stream, but, from its character and position with reference to the Indians of that region, well suited for the establishment of an outpost. At least so thought the natives who had reported upon it.

"There iss no doubt," remarked MacSweenie, as he surveyed the banks of the river, "that the place is no' that bad, but in my opeenion the summer will be short, whatever, an' the winter it will be long."

"Ye may be sure that you are not far wrong if it's like the rest o' this country," replied Mowat.

"There now, look at that," cried MacSweenie, who was a sketcher, and an enthusiast in regard to scenery; "did ever you see a prettier spot than that, Tonal'? Just the place for a fort--a wee burn dancin' doon the hull, wi' a bit fa' to turn a grindstone, an' a long piece o' flat land for the houses, an' what a grand composeetion for a pictur',--wi' trees, gress, water, sky, an' such light and shade! Man, it's magneeficent!"

"I'm thinkin' that it'll be a bad job if that keg o' screw-nails we forgot at our last camp is lost--"

"Hoot, man, never mind the screw-nails. We can easy send back for it.

But, wow! there's a far grander place we're comin' in sight of--an'--iss that an Indian tent I see?"

"Ay, an' there's more than wan tent," said Mowat, giving his steering oar a sweep that sent the boat farther out into the stream, and enabled them better to see what lay beyond the bend of the river in front of them.

"Hold on, lads; stop pullin'!"

The men lay on their oars and turned round to look ahead. The view presented there was indeed a pleasant and inspiring one, though it was scarcely ent.i.tled to the appellation "magneeficent," which MacSweenie applied to it.

The river at that place made a wide sweep on the right, round a low cliff which was crowned with luxuriant foliage. The stream opened out into something like a miniature lake, and the water was so calm that the cliff and its foliage made a clear dark reflection. The left bank was edged by a wide gra.s.s plateau some fifty yards wide, beyond which was a background of bushes and trees, with another "wee burn," which doubtless suggested to MacSweenie the useful as well as the picturesque. The distance was closed by ground varied in form as well as in character, indicating that a stream of considerable size joined the Ukon at that point.

But that which interested the beholders most of all was a number of Indian wigwams, which were pitched on the gra.s.sy plateau above referred to.

"Yonder are our frunds, I make no doubt," said MacSweenie in high glee.

"That man Mozwa iss as goot as his word; an' I do believe they have chosen the spot an' been waitin' for us. Gif way, boys; an', Tonal', make for that landin'-slup--it must either be a naitural wan, or the Redskins hev made it for us."

By that time the natives, having observed the boat, had launched several of their canoes. The first man who came alongside was Mozwa himself.

"What cheer? what cheer, Mozwa?" cried the trader as he reached over the side and shook the Indian heartily by the hand.

"Watchee! watchee!" repeated Mozwa, returning the shake with equal good-will, though undisturbed solemnity.

The trader's surmise proved to be correct. Mindful of the prospect which had been held out to him and n.a.z.inred, that an expedition might possibly be sent to establish an outpost and open up the fur trade in their immediate neighbourhood on the Ukon River, Mozwa had made more than one trip to the contemplated scene of operations, after the disappearance of his friend n.a.z.inred, with the view of making himself well acquainted with the land, and ascertaining the best site for the new fort. He did not of course suppose that the pale-faces would be guided entirely by his opinion, but he thought it not unlikely that they might weigh that opinion, and, if acted on at once, much time might be saved during the very brief summer season they had in which to place themselves comfortably in winter quarters before the hard weather should set in.

"You are a wise man, Mozwa," said MacSweenie, when the Indian had explained his views to him in the united smoke of their pipes and the camp-fire. "Your notion of a place for a fort iss not a bad one, an'

efter I hev had a look round I hev no doubt that I will agree wi' you that this is the very best site in the neighbourhood. Tell him that, Tonal', an' say that I am fery much obleeged to him for all the forethought and trouble he hes taken."

Whether Donald translated all this as it was delivered we know not.

From the peculiar cast of his mind, however, coupled with the moderate depth of his knowledge of the Indian tongue, it is probable that his translation was neither literal nor comprehensive. Indeed, it is not unlikely that his subsequent remark to one of his comrades,--"we told Mozwa it was very good of him to come to meet us, an' the place would do well enough,"--was more like the sentence to which he had reduced it.

But whatever he said Mozwa seemed to be quite pleased with it.

"By the way, Tonal', ask him about his friend n.a.z.inred."

The serious way in which the Indian shook his head showed that he had no good news to tell. In a short time he had related all that was known about the sudden departure of his friend.

While Mozwa was thus engaged with the leader of the expedition, their guide Bartong was wandering among the wigwams and making himself agreeable to the natives, who, because of his mixed blood and linguistic powers, regarded him as a half-brother.

"Who is this man n.a.z.inred that our leader is always talking about?" he asked of the old chief while seated in his tent.

"He is one of our chiefs, one of our boldest braves--"

"But not so brave as he looks," interrupted Magadar, who was present; "he is fonder of peace than of fighting."

"Foolish man!" exclaimed Bartong, with a smile so peculiar that Magadar did not feel quite sure that his remark was sincere. "But has he not left your tribe? I heard our steersman say something about that."

"He left us in the winter to seek for his daughter, who was carried off by an Eskimo and has never come back since. We don't expect to see either of them again."

Magadar said this with a grave countenance, for, however little he cared for the loss of the father, that of the daughter distressed him a little--not much, however; for could he not console himself with another wife?