The Young Voyageurs: Boy Hunters in the North

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER TWO.

  THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS.

  There is a canoe upon the waters of Red River--Red River of the north.It is near the source of the stream, but passing downward. It is asmall canoe, a frail structure of birch-bark, and contains only fourpersons. They are all young--the eldest of them evidently not overnineteen years of age, and the youngest about fifteen.

  The eldest is nearly full-grown, though his body and limbs have not yetassumed the muscular development of manhood. His complexion is dark,nearly olive. His hair is jet-black, straight as an Indian's, and long.His eyes are large and brilliant, and his features prominent. Hiscountenance expresses courage, and his well-set jaws betoken firmnessand resolution. He does not belie his looks, for he possesses thesequalifications in a high degree. There is a gravity in his manner,somewhat rare in one so young; yet it is not the result of a morosedisposition, but a subdued temperament produced by modesty, good sense,and much experience. Neither has it the air of stupidity. No: youcould easily tell that the mind of this youth, if once roused, wouldexhibit both energy and alertness. His quiet manner has a far differentexpression. It is an air of coolness and confidence, which tells you hehas met with dangers in the past, and would not fear to encounter themagain. It is an expression peculiar, I think, to the hunters of the"Far West,"--those men who dwell amidst dangers in the wild regions ofthe great prairies. Their solitary mode of life begets this expression.They are often for months without the company of a creature with whomthey may converse--months without beholding a human face. They livealone with Nature, surrounded by her majestic forms. These awe theminto habits of silence. Such was in point of fact the case with theyouth whom we have been describing. He had hunted much, though not as aprofessional hunter. With him the chase had been followed merely as apastime; but its pursuit had brought him into situations of peril, andin contact with Nature in her wild solitudes. Young as he was, he hadjourneyed over the grand prairies, and through the pathless forests ofthe West. He had slain the bear and the buffalo, the wild-cat and thecougar. These experiences had made their impression upon his mind, andstamped his countenance with that air of gravity we have noticed.

  The second of the youths whom we shall describe is very different inappearance. He is of blonde complexion, rather pale, with fair silkenhair that waves gently down his cheeks, and falls upon his shoulders.He is far from robust. On the contrary, his form is thin and delicate.It is not the delicacy of feebleness or ill-health, but only a body ofslighter build. The manner in which he handles his oar shows that hepossesses both health and strength, though neither in such a high degreeas the dark youth. His face expresses, perhaps, a larger amount ofintellect, and it is a countenance that would strike you as more openand communicative. The eye is blue and mild, and the brow is marked bythe paleness of study and habits of continued thought. Theseindications are no more than just, for the fair-haired youth _is_ astudent, and one of no ordinary attainments. Although only seventeenyears of age, he is already well versed in the natural sciences; andmany a graduate of Oxford or Cambridge would but ill compare with him.The former might excel in the knowledge--if we can dignify it by thatname--of the laws of scansion, or in the composition of Greek idyls; butin all that constitutes _real_ knowledge he would prove but an idletheorist, a dreamy imbecile, alongside our practical young scholar ofthe West.

  The third and youngest of the party--taking them as they sit from stemto bow--differs in many respects from both those described. He hasneither the gravity of the first, nor yet the intellectuality of thesecond. His face is round, and full, and ruddy. It is bright andsmiling in its expression. His eye dances merrily in his head, and itsglance falls upon everything. His lips are hardly ever at rest. Theyare either engaged in making words--for he talks almost incessantly--orelse contracting and expanding with smiles and joyous laughter. His capis jauntily set, and his fine brown curls, hanging against the richroseate skin of his cheeks, give to his countenance an expression ofextreme health and boyish beauty. His merry laugh and free air tell youhe is not the boy for books. He is not much of a hunter neither. Infact, he is not particularly given to anything--one of those easynatures who take the world as it comes, look upon the bright side ofeverything, without getting sufficiently interested to excel inanything.

  These three youths were dressed nearly alike. The eldest wore thecostume, as near as may be, of a backwoods hunter--a tunic-likehunting-shirt, of dressed buckskin, leggings and mocassins of the samematerial, and all--shirt, leggings, and mocassins--handsomely braidedand embroidered with stained quills of the porcupine. The cape of theshirt was tastefully fringed, and so was the skirt as well as the seamsof the mocassins. On his head was a hairy cap of raccoon skin, and thetail of the animal, with its dark transverse bars, hung down behind likethe drooping plume of a helmet. Around his shoulders were two leathernbelts that crossed each other upon his breast. One of these slung abullet-pouch covered with a violet-green skin that glittered splendidlyin the sun. It was from the head of the "wood-duck" (_Anas sponsa_),the most beautiful bird of its tribe. By the other strap was suspendeda large crescent-shaped horn taken from the head of an Opelousas bull,and carved with various ornamental devices. Other smaller implementshung from the belts, attached by leathern thongs: there was a picker, awiper, and a steel for striking fire with. A third belt--a broad stoutone of alligator leather--encircled the youth's waist. To this wasfastened a holster, and the shining butt of a pistol could be seenprotruding out; a hunting-knife of the kind denominated "bowie" hangingover the left hip, completed his "arms and accoutrements."

  The second of the youths was dressed, as already stated, in a somewhatsimilar manner, though his accoutrements were not of so warlike acharacter. Like the other, he had a powder-horn and pouch, but insteadof knife and pistol, a canvass bag or haversack hung from his shoulder;and had you looked into it, you would have seen that it was half filledwith shells, pieces of rock, and rare plants, gathered during the day--the diurnal storehouse of the geologist, the palaeontologist, andbotanist--to be emptied for study and examination by the nightcamp-fire. Instead of the 'coon-skin cap he wore a white felt hat withbroad leaf; and for leggings and mocassins he had trousers of bluecottonade and laced buskins of tanned leather.

  The youngest of the three was dressed and accoutred much like theeldest, except that his cap was of blue cloth--somewhat after thefashion of the military forage cap. All three wore shirts of colouredcotton, the best for journeying in these uninhabited regions, where soapis scarce, and a laundress not to be had at any price.

  Though very unlike one another, these three youths were brothers. Iknew them well. I had seen them before--about two years before--andthough each had grown several inches taller since that time, I had nodifficulty in recognising them. Even though they were now two thousandmiles from where I had formerly encountered them, I could not bemistaken as to their identity. Beyond a doubt they were the same braveyoung adventurers whom I had met in the swamps of Louisiana, and whoseexploits I had witnessed upon the prairies of Texas. They were the "BoyHunters,"--Basil, Lucien, Francois! I was right glad to renewacquaintance with them. Boy reader, do you share my joy?

  But whither go they now? They are full two thousand miles from theirhome in Louisiana. The Red River upon which their canoe floats is notthat Red River, whose blood-like waters sweep through the swamps of thehot South--the home of the alligator and the gar. No, it is a stream ofa far different character, though also one of great magnitude. Upon thebanks of the former ripens the rice-plant, and the sugar-cane waves itsgolden tassels high in the air. There, too, flourishes the giant reed(_Arundo gigantea_), the fan-palm (_Chamaerops_), and the broad-leafedmagnolia, with its huge snow-white flowers. There the aspect isSouthern, and the heat tropical for most part of the year.

  All this is reversed on the Red River of the North. It is true that onits banks sugar is also produced; but it is no longer from a plant but alordly tree--the great sugar-maple (_
Acer saccharinum_). There is ricetoo,--vast fields of rice upon its marshy borders; but it is not thepearly grain of the South. It is the wild rice, "the water oats"(_Zizania aquatica_), the food of millions of winged creatures, andthousands of human beings as well. Here for three-fourths of the yearthe sun is feeble, and the aspect that of winter. For months the coldwaters are bound up in an icy embrace. The earth is covered with thicksnow, over which rise the needle-leafed _coniferae_--the pines, thecedars, the spruce, and the hemlock. Very unlike each other are thecountries watered by the two streams, the Red River of the South and itsnamesake of the North.

  But whither go our Boy Hunters in their birch-bark canoe? The riverupon which they are _voyaging_ runs due northward into the great LakeWinnipeg. They are floating with its current, and consequentlyincreasing the distance from their home. Whither go they?

  The answer leads us to some sad reflections. Our joy on again beholdingthem is to be mingled with grief. When we last saw them they had afather, but no mother. Now they have neither one nor theother. The old Colonel, their father--the French _emigre_, the_hunter-naturalist_--is dead. He who had taught them all they knew, whohad taught them "to ride, to swim, to dive deep rivers, to fling thelasso, to climb tall trees, and scale steep cliffs, to bring down birdsupon the wing or beasts upon the run, with the arrow and the unerringrifle; who had trained them to sleep in the open air, in the darkforest, on the unsheltered prairie, along the white snow-wreath--anywhere--with but a blanket or a buffalo-robe for their bed; who hadtaught them to live on the simplest food, and had imparted to one ofthem a knowledge of science, of botany in particular, that enabled them,in case of need, to draw sustenance from plants and trees, from rootsand fruits, to find resources where ignorant men would starve; hadtaught them to kindle a fire without flint, steel, or detonating powder;to discover their direction without a compass, from the rocks and thetrees and the signs of the heavens; and in addition to all, had taughtthem, as far as was then known, the geography of that vast wildernessthat stretches from the Mississippi to the shores of the Pacific Ocean,and northward to the icy borders of the Arctic Sea"--he who had taughtthem all this, their father, was no more; and his three sons, the "boymen," of whom he was so proud, and of whose accomplishments he was wontto boast, were now orphans upon the wide world.

  But little more than a year after their return from their grandexpedition to the Texan prairies, the "old Colonel" had died. It wasone of the worst years of that scourge of the South--the yellow fever--and to this dread pestilence he had fallen a victim.

  Hugot, the _ex-chasseur_ and attached domestic, who was accustomed tofollow his master like a shadow, had also followed him into the nextworld. It was not grief that killed Hugot, though he bore the loss ofhis kind master sadly enough. But it was not grief that killed Hugot.He was laid low by the same disease of which his master had died--theyellow fever. A week had scarcely passed after the death of the latter,before Hugot caught the disease, and in a few days he was carried to thetomb and laid by the side of his "old Colonel."

  The Boy Hunters--Basil, Lucien, Francois--became orphans. They knew ofbut _one_ relation in the whole world, with whom their father had keptup any correspondence. This relation was an uncle, and, strange as itmay seem, a Scotchman--a Highlander, who had strayed to Corsica in earlylife, and had there married the Colonel's sister. That uncle hadafterwards emigrated to Canada, and had become extensively engaged inthe fur trade. He was now a superintendent or "factor" of the Hudson'sBay Company, stationed at one of their most remote posts near the shoresof the Arctic Sea! There is a romance in the history of some men wilderthan any fiction that could be imagined.

  I have not yet answered the question as to where our Boy Hunters werejourneying in their birch-bark canoe. By this time you will havedivined the answer. Certainly, you will say, they were on their way tojoin their uncle in his remote home. For no other object could they betravelling through the wild regions of the Red River. That suppositionis correct. To visit this Scotch uncle (they had not seen him foryears) was the object of their long, toilsome, and perilous journey.After their father's death he had sent for them. He had heard of theirexploits upon the prairies; and, being himself of an adventurousdisposition, he was filled with admiration for his young kinsmen, anddesired very much to have them come and live with him. Being now theirguardian, he might command as much, but it needed not any exercise ofauthority on his part to induce all three of them to obey his summons.They had travelled through the mighty forests of the Mississippi, andupon the summer prairies of the South. These great features of theearth's surface were to them familiar things, and they were no longercurious about them. But there remained a vast country which they longedeagerly to explore. They longed to look upon its shining lakes andcrystal rivers; upon its snow-clad hills and ice-bound streams; upon itshuge mammalia--its moose and its musk-oxen, its wapiti and its monsterbears. This was the very country to which they were now invited bytheir kinsman, and cheerfully did they accept his invitation. Alreadyhad they made one-half the journey, though by far the easier half. Theyhad travelled up the Mississippi, by steamboat as far as the mouth ofthe Saint Peter's. There they had commenced their canoe voyage--inother words became "voyageurs"--for such is the name given to those whotravel by canoes through these wild territories. Their favourite horsesand the mule "Jeannette" had been left behind. This was a necessity, asthese creatures, however useful upon the dry prairies of the South,where there are few or no lakes, and where rivers only occur at longintervals, would be of little service to the traveller in the Northernregions. Here the route is crossed and intercepted by numerous rivers;and lakes of all sizes, with tracts of inundated marsh, succeed oneanother continually. Such, in fact, are the highways of the country,and the canoe the travelling carriage; so that a journey from one pointof the Hudson's Bay territory to another is often a canoe voyage ofthousands of miles--equal to a "trip" across the Atlantic!

  Following the usual custom, therefore, our Boy Hunters had becomevoyageurs--"_Young Voyageurs_." They had navigated the Saint Peter's insafety, almost to its head-waters. These interlock with the sources ofthe Red River. By a "portage" of a few miles they had crossed to thelatter stream; and, having launched their canoe upon its waters, werenow floating downward and northward with its current. But they had yeta long journey before them--nearly two thousand miles! Many a river tobe "run," many a rapid to be "shot," many a lake to be crossed, and manya "portage" to be passed, ere they could reach the end of that great_voyage_.

  Come, boy reader, shall we accompany them? Yes. The strange scenes andwild adventures through which we must pass, may lighten the toils, andperhaps repay us for the perils, of the journey. Think not of thetoils. Roses grow only upon thorns. From toil we learn to enjoyleisure. Regard not the perils. "From the nettle danger we pluck theflower safety." Security often springs from peril. From such hardexperiences great men have arisen. Come, then, my young friend! mindneither toil nor peril, but with me to the great wilderness of theNorth!

  Stay! We are to have another "_compagnon du voyage_." There is afourth in the boat, a fourth "young voyageur." Who is he? Inappearance he is as old as Basil, full as tall, and not unlike him in"build." But he is altogether of a different _colour_. He isfair-haired; but his hair (unlike that of Lucien, which is alsolight-coloured) is strong, crisp, and curly. It does not droop, butstands out over his cheeks in a profusion of handsome ringlets. Hiscomplexion is of that kind known as "fresh," and the weather, to whichit has evidently been much exposed, has bronzed and rather enriched thecolour. The eyes are dark blue, and, strange to say, with _black_ browsand lashes! This is not common, though sometimes observed; and, in thecase of the youth we are describing, arose from a difference ofcomplexion on the part of his parents. He looked through the eyes ofhis mother, while in other respects he was more like his father, who wasfair-haired and of a "fresh" colour.

  The youth, himself, might be termed handsome. Perhaps he did n
otpossess the youthful beauty of Francois, nor the bolder kind thatcharacterised the face of Basil. Perhaps he was of a coarser "make"than any of his three companions. His intellect had been lesscultivated by education, and _education adds to the beauty of the face_.His life had been a harder one--he had toiled more with his hands, andhad seen less of civilised society. Still many would have pronouncedhim a handsome youth. His features were regular, and of clean outline.His lips expressed good-nature as well as firmness. His eye beamed withnative intelligence, and his whole face bespoke a heart of true anddetermined honesty--_that made it beautiful_.

  Perhaps a close scrutiniser of countenances might have detected someresemblance--a family one--between him and his three companions. Ifsuch there was, it was very slight; but there might have been, from therelationship that existed between them and him. He was their cousin--their full cousin--the only son of that uncle they were now on their wayto visit, and the new-comer who had been sent to bring them. Such wasthe fourth of "the young voyageurs."

  His dress was not unlike that worn by Basil; but as he was seated on thebow, and acting as pilot, and therefore more likely to feel the cold, hewore over his hunting-shirt a Canadian _capote_ of white woollen cloth,with its hood hanging, down upon his shoulders.

  But there was still another "voyageur," an old acquaintance, whom you,boy reader, will no doubt remember. This was an animal, a quadruped,who lay along the bottom of the canoe upon a buffalo's hide. "From hissize and colour--which was a tawny red--you might have mistaken him fora panther--a cougar. His long black muzzle and broad hanging ears gavehim quite a different aspect, however, and declared him to be a hound.He _was_ one--a bloodhound, with the build of a mastiff--a powerfulanimal. He was the dog `Marengo.'" You remember Marengo?

  In the canoe there were other objects of interest. There were blanketsand buffalo-robes; there was a small canvass tent folded up; there werebags of provisions, and some cooking utensils; there was a spade and anaxe; there were rifles--three of them--and a double-barrelled shot-gun;besides a fish-net, and many other articles, the necessary equipmentsfor such a journey.

  Loaded almost to the gunwale was that little canoe, yet lightly did itfloat down the waters of the Red River of the North.