A little apart from the others, a youth and a girl might be seen sauntering slowly towards the copse beyond the stable. These were Charley Kennedy and his sister Kate, who had retired from the bustling scene to take a last short walk together, ere they separated, it might be for years, perhaps for ever! Charley held Kate's hand, while her sweet little head rested on his shoulder.

"O Charley, Charley, my own dear, darling Charley, I'm quite miserable, and you ought not to go away; it's very wrong, and I don't mind a bit what you say, I shall die if you leave me!" And Kate pressed him tightly to her heart, and sobbed in the depth of her woe.

"Now, Kate, my darling, don't go on so! You know I can't help it--"

"I _don't_ know," cried Kate, interrupting him, and speaking vehemently--"I don't know, and I don't believe, and I don't care for anything at all; it's very hard-hearted of you, and wrong, and not right, and I'm just quite wretched!"

Poor Kate was undoubtedly speaking the absolute truth; for a more disconsolate and wretched look of woe-begone misery was never seen on so sweet and tender and lovable a little face before. Her blue eyes swam in two lakes of pure crystal, that overflowed continually; her mouth, which was usually round, had become an elongated oval; and her nut-brown hair fell in dishevelled ma.s.ses over her soft cheeks.

"O Charley," she continued, "why _won't_ you stay?"

"Listen to me, dearest Kate," said Charley, in a very husky voice.

"It's too late to draw back now, even if I wished to do so; and you don't consider, darling, that I'll be back again soon. Besides, I'm a man now, Kate, and I must make my own bread. Who ever heard of a man being supported by his old father?"

"Well, but you can do that here."

"Now, don't interrupt me, Kate," said Charley, kissing her forehead; "I'm quite satisfied with _two short_ legs, and have no desire whatever to make my bread on the top of _three long_ ones. Besides, you know I can write to you--"

"But you won't; you'll forget."

"No, indeed, I will not. I'll write you long letters about all that I see and do; and you shall write long letters to me about--"

"Stop, Charley," cried Kate; "I won't listen to you. I hate to think of it."

And her tears burst forth again with fresh violence. This time Charley's heart sank too. The lump in his throat all but choked him; so he was fain to lay his head upon Kate's heaving bosom, and weep along with her.

For a few minutes they remained silent, when a slight rustling in the bushes was heard. In another moment a tall, broad-shouldered, gentlemanly man, dressed in black, stood before them. Charley and Kate, on seeing this personage, arose, and wiping the tears from their eyes, gave a sad smile as they shook hands with their clergyman.

"My poor children," said Mr Addison, affectionately, "I know well why your hearts are sad. May G.o.d bless and comfort you! I saw you enter the wood, and came to bid you farewell, Charley, my dear boy, as I shall not have another opportunity of doing so."

"O dear Mr Addison," cried Kate, grasping his hand in both of hers, and gazing imploringly up at him through a perfect wilderness of ringlets and tears, "do prevail upon Charley to stay at home; please do!"

Mr Addison could scarcely help smiling at the poor girl's extreme earnestness.

"I fear, my sweet child, that it is too late now to attempt to dissuade Charley. Besides, he goes with the consent of his father; and I am inclined to think that a change of life for a _short_ time may do him good. Come, Kate, cheer up! Charley will return to us again ere long, improved, I trust, both physically and mentally."

Kate did _not_ cheer up, but she dried her eyes, and endeavoured to look more composed; while Mr Addison took Charley by the hand, and, as they walked slowly through the wood, gave him much earnest advice and counsel.

The clergyman's manner was peculiar. With a large, warm, generous heart, he possessed an enthusiastic nature, a quick, brusque manner, and a loud voice, which, when his spirit was influenced by the strong emotions of pity or anxiety for the souls of his flock, sank into a deep, soft ba.s.s of the most thrilling earnestness. He belonged to the Church of England, but conducted service very much in the Presbyterian form, as being more suited to his mixed congregation. After a long conversation with Charley, he concluded by saying:--

"I do not care to say much to you about being kind and obliging to all whom you may meet with during your travels, nor about the dangers to which you will be exposed by being thrown into the company of wild and reckless, perhaps very wicked, men. There is but _one_ incentive to every good, and _one_ safeguard against all evil, my boy, and that is the love of G.o.d. You may perhaps forget much that I have said to you; but remember this, Charley, if you would be happy in this world, and have a good hope for the next, centre your heart's affection on our blessed Lord Jesus Christ; for believe me, boy, _His_ heart's affection is centred upon you."

As Mr Addison spoke, a loud hollo from Mr Kennedy apprised them that their time was exhausted, and that the boats were ready to start.

Charley sprang towards Kate, locked her in a long, pa.s.sionate embrace, and then, forgetting Mr Addison altogether in his haste, ran out of the wood, and hastened towards the scene of departure.

"Good-bye, Charley!" cried Harry Somerville, running up to his friend and giving him a warm grasp of the hand. "Don't forget me, Charley. I wish I were going with you, with all my heart; but I'm an unlucky dog.

Good-bye." The senior clerk and Peter Mactavish had also a kindly word and a cheerful farewell for him as he hurried past.

"Good-bye, Charley, my lad!" said old Mr Kennedy, in an _excessively_ loud voice, as if by such means he intended to crush back some unusual but very powerful feelings that had a peculiar influence on a certain lump in his throat. "Goodbye, my lad; don't forget to write to your old--Hang it!" said the old man, brushing his coat-sleeve somewhat violently across his eyes, and turning abruptly round as Charley left him and sprang into the boat.--"I say, Grant, I--I--What are you staring at, eh?" The latter part of his speech was addressed, in an angry tone, to an innocent voyageur, who happened accidentally to confront him at the moment.

"Come along, Kennedy," said Mr Grant, interposing, and grasping his excited friend by the arm--"come with me."

"Ah, to be sure!--yes," said he, looking over his shoulder and waving a last adieu to Charley. "Good-bye, G.o.d bless you, my dear boy!--I say, Grant, come along; quick, man, and let's have a pipe--yes, let's have a pipe." Mr Kennedy, essaying once more to crush back his rebellious feelings, strode rapidly up the bank, and entering the house, sought to overwhelm his sorrow in smoke: in which attempt he failed.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE VOYAGE--THE ENCAMPMENT--A SURPRISE.

It was a fine sight to see the boats depart for the north. It was a thrilling, heart-stirring sight to behold these picturesque, athletic men, on receiving the word of command from their guides, spring lightly into the long, heavy boats; to see them let the oars fall into the water with a loud splash, and then, taking their seats, give way with a will, knowing that the eyes of friends and sweethearts and rivals were bent earnestly upon them. It was a splendid sight to see boat after boat shoot out from the landing-place, and cut through the calm bosom of the river, as the men bent their st.u.r.dy backs, until the thick oars creaked and groaned on the gunwales and flashed in the stream, more and more vigorously at each successive stroke, until their friends on the bank, who were anxious to see the last of them, had to run faster and faster in order to keep up with them, as the rowers warmed at their work, and made the water gurgle at the bows--their bright blue and scarlet and white trappings reflected in the dark waters in broken ma.s.ses of colour, streaked with long lines of shining ripples, as if they floated on a lake of liquid rainbows. And it was a glorious thing to hear the wild, plaintive song, led by one clear, sonorous voice, that rang out full and strong in the still air, while at the close of every two lines the whole brigade burst into a loud, enthusiastic chorus, that rolled far and wide over the smooth waters--telling of their approach to settlers beyond the reach of vision in advance, and floating faintly back, a last farewell, to the listening ears of fathers, mothers, wives, and sisters left behind. And it was interesting to observe how, as the rushing boats sped onwards past the cottages on sh.o.r.e, groups of men and women and children stood before the open doors and waved adieu, while ever and anon a solitary voice rang louder than the others in the chorus, and a pair of dark eyes grew brighter as a voyageur swept past his home, and recognised his little ones screaming farewell, and seeking to attract their _sire's_ attention by tossing their chubby arms or flourishing round their heads the bright vermilion blades of canoe paddles. It was interesting, too, to hear the men shout as they ran a small rapid which occurs about the lower part of the settlement, and dashed in full career up to the Lower Fort--which stands about twenty miles down the river from Fort Garry--and then sped onward again with unabated energy, until they pa.s.sed the Indian settlement, with its scattered wooden buildings and its small church; pa.s.sed the last cottage on the bank; pa.s.sed the low swampy land at the river's mouth; and emerged at last, as evening closed, upon the wide, calm, sea-like bosom of Lake Winnipeg.

Charley saw and heard all this during the whole of that long, exciting afternoon, and as he heard and saw it his heart swelled as if it would burst its prison-bars, his voice rang out wildly in the choruses, regardless alike of tune and time, and his spirit boiled within him as he quaffed the first sweet draught of a rover's life--a life in the woods, the wild, free, enchanting woods, where all appeared in _his_ eyes bright, and sunny, and green, and beautiful!

As the sun's last rays sank in the west, and the clouds, losing their crimson hue, began gradually to fade into grey, the boats' heads were turned landward. In a few seconds they grounded on a low point covered with small trees and bushes which stretched out into the lake. Here Louis Peltier had resolved to bivouac for the night. "Now then, mes garcons," he exclaimed, leaping ash.o.r.e, and helping to drag the boat a little way on to the beach, "vite, vite! a terre, a terre!--Take the kettle, Pierre, and let's have supper."

Pierre needed no second bidding. He grasped a large tin kettle and an axe, with which he hurried into a clump of trees. Laying down the kettle, which he had previously filled with water from the lake, he singled out a dead tree, and with three powerful blows of his axe brought it to the ground. A few additional strokes cut it up into logs, varying from three to five feet in length, which he piled together, first placing a small bundle of dry gra.s.s and twigs beneath them, and a few splinters of wood which he cut from off one of the logs. Having accomplished this, Pierre took a flint and steel out of a gaily ornamented pouch which depended from his waist, and which went by the name of a fire-bag in consequence of its containing the implements for procuring that element. It might have been as appropriately named tobacco-bag or smoking-bag, however, seeing that such things had more to do with it, if possible, than fire. Having struck a spark, which he took captive by means of a piece of tinder, he placed it in the centre of a very dry handful of soft gra.s.s, and whirled it rapidly round his head, thereby producing a current of air, which blew the spark into a flame; which, when applied, lighted the gra.s.s and twigs; and so, in a few minutes, a blazing fire roared up among the trees--spouted volumes of sparks into the air, like a gigantic squib, which made it quite a marvel that all the bushes in the neighbourhood were not burnt up at once--glared out red and fierce upon the rippling water, until it became, as it were, red hot in the neighbourhood of the boats, and caused the night to become suddenly darker by contrast; the night reciprocating the compliment, as it grew later, by causing the s.p.a.ce around the fire to glow brighter and brighter, until it became a brilliant chamber, surrounded by walls of the blackest ebony.

While Pierre was thus engaged there were at least ten voyageurs similarly occupied. Ten steels were made instrumental in creating ten sparks, which were severally captured by ten pieces of tinder, and whirled round by ten l.u.s.ty arms, until ten flames were produced, and ten fires sprang up and flared wildly on the busy scene that had a few hours before been so calm, so solitary, and so peaceful, bathed in the soft beams of the setting sun.

In less than half an hour the several camps were completed, the kettles boiling over the fires, the men smoking in every variety of att.i.tude, and talking loudly. It was a cheerful scene; and so Charley thought as he reclined in his canvas tent, the opening of which faced the fire, and enabled him to see all that was going on.

Pierre was standing over the great kettle, dancing round it, and making sudden plunges with a stick into it, in the desperate effort to stir its boiling contents--desperate, because the fire was very fierce and large, and the flames seemed to take a fiendish pleasure in leaping up suddenly just under Pierre's nose, thereby endangering his beard, or shooting out between his legs and licking round them at most unexpected moments, when the light wind ought to have been blowing them quite in the opposite direction; and then, as he danced round to the other side to avoid them, wheeling about and roaring viciously in his face, until it seemed as if the poor man would be roasted long before the supper was boiled.

Indeed, what between the ever-changing and violent flames, the rolling smoke, the steam from the kettle, the showering sparks, and the man's own wild grimaces and violent antics, Pierre seemed to Charley like a raging demon, who danced not only round, but above, and on, and through, and _in_ the flames, as if they were his natural element, in which he took special delight.

Quite close to the tent the ma.s.sive form of Louis the guide lay extended, his back supported by the stump of a tree, his eyes blinking sleepily at the blaze, and his beloved pipe hanging from his lips, while wreaths of smoke encircled his head. Louis's day's work was done. Few could do a better; and when his work was over, Louis always acted on the belief that his position and his years ent.i.tled him to rest, and took things very easy in consequence.

Six of the boat's crew sat in a semicircle beside the guide and fronting the fire, each paying particular attention to his pipe, and talking between the puffs to any one who chose to listen.

Suddenly Pierre vanished into the smoke and flames altogether, whence in another moment he issued, bearing in his hand the large tin kettle, which he deposited triumphantly at the feet of his comrades.

"Now, then," cried Pierre.

It was unnecessary to have said even that much by way of invitation.

Voyageurs do not require to have their food pressed upon them after a hard day's work. Indeed, it was as much as they could do to refrain from laying violent hands on the kettle long before their worthy cook considered its contents sufficiently done.

Charley sat in company with Mr Park--a chief factor, on his way to Norway House. Gibault, one of the men who acted as their servant, had placed a kettle of hot tea before them, which, with several slices of buffalo tongue, a lump of pemmican, and some hard biscuit and b.u.t.ter, formed their evening meal. Indeed, we may add that these viands, during a great part of the voyage, const.i.tuted their every meal. In fact, they had no variety in their fare, except a wild duck or two now and then, and a goose when they chanced to shoot one.

Charley sipped a pannikin of tea as he reclined on his blanket, and being somewhat fatigued in consequence of his exertions and excitement during the day, said nothing. Mr Park for the same reasons, besides being naturally taciturn, was equally mute; so they both enjoyed in silence the spectacle of the men eating their supper. And it _was_ a sight worth seeing.

Their food consisted of robbiboo, a compound of flour, pemmican, and water, boiled to the consistency of very thick soup. Though not a species of food that would satisfy the fastidious taste of an epicure, robbiboo is, nevertheless, very wholesome, exceedingly nutritious, and withal palatable. Pemmican, its princ.i.p.al component, is made of buffalo flesh, which fully equals (some think greatly excels) beef. The recipe for making it is as follows:--First kill your buffalo--a matter of considerable difficulty, by the way, as doing so requires you to travel to the buffalo-grounds, to arm yourself with a gun, and mount a horse, on which you have to gallop, perhaps, several miles over rough ground and among badger-holes, at the imminent risk of breaking your neck.

Then you have to run up alongside of a buffalo and put a ball through his heart, which, apart from the murderous nature of the action, is a difficult thing to do. But we will suppose that you have killed your buffalo. Then you must skin him; then cut him up, and slice the flesh into layers, which must be dried in the sun. At this stage of the process you have produced a substance which in the fur countries goes by the name of dried meat, and is largely used as an article of food. As its name implies, it is very dry, and it is also very tough, and very undesirable if one can manage to procure anything better. But to proceed. Having thus prepared dried meat, lay a quant.i.ty of it on a flat stone, and take another stone, with which pound it into shreds.

You must then take the animal's hide, while it is yet new, and make bags of it about two feet and a half long by a foot and a half broad. Into this put the pounded meat loosely. Melt the fat of your buffalo over a fire, and when quite liquid pour it into the bag until full; mix the contents well together; sew the whole up before it cools, and you have a bag of pemmican of about ninety pounds weight. This forms the chief food of the voyageur, in consequence of its being the largest possible quant.i.ty of sustenance compressed into the smallest possible s.p.a.ce, and in an extremely convenient, portable shape. It will keep fresh for years, and has been much used, in consequence, by the heroes of arctic discovery, in their perilous journeys along the sh.o.r.es of the frozen sea.

The voyageurs used no plates. Men who travel in these countries become independent of many things that are supposed to be necessary here. They sat in a circle round the kettle, each man armed with a large wooden or pewter spoon, with which he ladled the robbiboo down his capacious throat, in a style that not only caused Charley to laugh, but afterwards threw him into a deep reverie on the powers of appet.i.te in general, and the strength of voyageur stomachs in particular.

At first the keen edge of appet.i.te induced the men to eat in silence; but as the contents of the kettle began to get low, their tongues loosened, and at last, when the kettles were emptied and the pipes filled, fresh logs thrown on the fires, and their limbs stretched out around them, the babel of English, French, and Indian that arose was quite overwhelming. The middle-aged men told long stories of what they _had_ done; the young men boasted of what they _meant_ to do; while the more aged smiled, nodded, smoked their pipes, put in a word or two as occasion offered, and listened. While they conversed the quick ears of one of the men of Charley's camp detected some unusual sound.