The Young Fur Traders

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

  THE INDIAN CAMP--THE NEW OUTPOST--CHARLEY SENT ON A MISSION TO THEINDIANS.

  In the councils of the fur-traders, on the spring previous to that aboutwhich we are now writing, it had been decided to extend their operationsa little in the lands that lie in central America to the north of theSaskatchewan River; and in furtherance of that object, it had beenintimated to the chief trader in charge of the district that anexpedition should be set on foot, having for its object the examinationof a territory into which they had not yet penetrated, and theestablishment of an outpost therein. It was, furthermore, ordered thatoperations should be commenced at once, and that the choice of men tocarry out the end in view was graciously left to the chief trader'swell-known sagacity.

  Upon receiving this communication, the chief trader selected a gentlemannamed Mr Whyte to lead the party; gave him a clerk and five men;provided him with a boat and a large supply of goods necessary fortrade, implements requisite for building an establishment, and sent himoff with a hearty shake of the hand and a recommendation to "go andprosper."

  Charles Kennedy spent part of the previous year at Rocky Mountain House,where he had shown so much energy in conducting the trade, especiallywhat he called the "rough and tumble" part of it, that he was selectedas the clerk to accompany Mr Whyte to his new ground. After proceedingup many rivers, whose waters had seldom borne the craft of white men,and across innumerable lakes, the party reached a spot that presented soinviting an aspect that it was resolved to pitch their tent there for atime, and, if things in the way of trade and provision lookedfavourable, establish themselves altogether. The place was situated onthe margin of a large lake, whose shores were covered with the mostluxuriant verdure, and whose waters teemed with the finest fish, whilethe air was alive with wild-fowl, and the woods swarming with game.Here Mr Whyte rested awhile; and having found everything to hissatisfaction, he took his axe, selected a green lawn that commanded anextensive view of the lake, and going up to a tall larch, struck thesteel into it, and thus put the first touch to an establishment whichafterwards went by the name of Stoney Creek.

  A solitary Indian, whom they had met with on the way to their new home,had informed them that a large band of Knisteneux had lately migrated toa river about four days' journey beyond the lake, at which they halted;and when the new fort was just beginning to spring up, our friendCharley and the interpreter, Jacques Caradoc, were ordered by Mr Whyteto make a canoe, and then, embarking in it, to proceed to the Indiancamp, to inform the natives of their rare good luck in having a band ofwhite men come to settle near their lands to trade with them. Theinterpreter and Charley soon found birch bark, pine roots for sewing it,and gum for plastering the seams, wherewith they constructed the lightmachine whose progress we have partly traced in the last chapter, andwhich, on the following day at sunset, carried them to their journey'send.

  From some remarks made by the Indian who gave them information of thecamp, Charley gathered that it was the tribe to which Redfeatherbelonged, and furthermore that Redfeather himself was there at thattime; so that it was with feelings of no little interest that he saw thetops of the yellow tents embedded among the green trees, and soonafterwards beheld them and their picturesque owners reflected in theclear river, on whose banks the natives crowded to witness the arrivalof the white men.

  Upon the greensward, and under the umbrageous shade of the forest trees,the tents were pitched to the number of perhaps eighteen or twenty, andthe whole population, of whom very few were absent on the presentoccasion, might number a hundred--men, women, and children. They weredressed in habiliments formed chiefly of materials procured bythemselves in the chase, but ornamented with cloth, beads, and silkthread, which showed that they had had intercourse with the fur-tradersbefore now. The men wore leggings of deerskin, which reached more thanhalf-way up the thigh, and were fastened to a leathern girdle strappedround the waist. A loose tunic or hunting-shirt of the same materialcovered the figure from the shoulders almost to the knees, and wasconfined round the middle by a belt--in some cases of worsted, in othersof leather gaily ornamented with quills. Caps of various indescribableshapes, and made chiefly of skin, with the animal's tail left on by wayof ornament, covered their heads, and moccasins for the feet completedtheir costume. These last may be simply described as leather mittensfor the feet, without fingers, or rather toes. They were gaudilyornamented, as was almost every portion of costume, with porcupines'quills dyed with brilliant colours, and worked into fanciful and in manycases extremely elegant figures and designs; for North American Indiansoftentimes display an amount of taste in the harmonious arrangement ofcolour that would astonish those who fancy that _education_ isabsolutely necessary to the just appreciation of the beautiful.

  The women attired themselves in leggings and coats differing little fromthose of the men, except that the latter were longer, the sleevesdetached from the body, and fastened on separately; while on their headsthey wore caps, which hung down and covered their backs to the waist.These caps were of the simplest construction, being pieces of cloth cutinto an oblong shape, and sewed together at one end. They were,however, richly ornamented with silk-work and beads.

  On landing, Charley and Jacques walked up to a tall, good-lookingIndian, whom they judged from him demeanour, and the somewhatdeferential regard paid to him by the others, to be one of the chief menof the little community.

  "Ho! what cheer?" said Jacques, taking him by the hand after the mannerof Europeans, and accosting him with the phrase used by the fur-tradersto the natives. The Indian returned the compliment in kind, and led thevisitors to his tent, where he spread a buffalo robe for them on theground, and begged them to be seated. A repast of dried meat andreindeer tongues was then served, to which our friends did amplejustice; while the women and children satisfied their curiosity bypeering at them through chinks and holes in the tent. When they hadfinished, several of the principal men assembled, and the chief who hadentertained them made a speech, to the effect that he was much gratifiedby the honour done to his people by the visit of his white brothers;that he hoped they would continue long at the camp to enjoy theirhospitality; and that he would be glad to know what had brought them sofar into the country of the red men.

  During the course of this speech the chief made eloquent allusion to allthe good qualities supposed to belong to white men in general, and (hehad no doubt) to the two white men before him in particular. He alsoboasted considerably of the prowess and bravery of himself and histribe, launched a few sarcastic hits at his enemies, and wound up with apoetical hope that his guests might live for ever in these beautifulplains of bliss, where the sun never sets, and nothing goes wronganywhere, and everything goes right at all times, and where, especially,the deer are outrageously fat, and always come out on purpose to beshot! During the course of these remarks his comrades signified theirhearty concurrence in his sentiments, by giving vent to sundry low-toned"hums!" and "hahs!" and "wahs!" and "hohs!" according to circumstances.After it was over Jacques rose, and addressing them in their ownlanguage, said--

  "My Indian brethren are great. They are brave, and their fame hastravelled far. Their deeds are known even so far as where the GreatSalt Lake beats on the shore where the sun rises. They are not women,and when their enemies hear the sound of their name they grow pale;their hearts become like those of the reindeer. My brethren are famous,too, in the use of the snow-shoe, the snare, and the gun. Thefur-traders know that they must build large stores when they come intotheir lands. They bring up much goods, because the young men are activeand require much. The silver fox and the marten are no longer safe whentheir traps and snares are set. Yes, they are good hunters; and we havenow come to live among you" (Jacques changed his style as he came nearerto the point), "to trade with you, and to save you the trouble of makinglong journeys with your skins. A few days' distance from your wigwamswe have pitched our tents. Our young men are even now felling the treesto build a house. Our nets are set, ou
r hunters are prowling in thewoods, our goods are ready, and my young master and I have come to smokethe pipe of friendship with you, and to invite you to come to trade withus."

  Having delivered this oration, Jacques sat down amid deep silence.Other speeches, of a highly satisfactory character, were then made,after which "the house adjourned," and the visitors, opening one oftheir packages, distributed a variety of presents to the delightednatives.

  Several times during the course of these proceedings Charley's eyeswandered among the faces of his entertainers, in the hope of seeingRedfeather among them, but without success; and he began to fear thathis friend was not with the tribe.

  "I say, Jacques," he said, as they left the tent, "ask whether a chiefcalled Redfeather is here. I knew him of old, and half expected to findhim at this place."

  The Indian to whom Jacques put the question replied that Redfeather waswith them, but that he had gone out on a hunting expedition thatmorning, and might be absent a day or two.

  "Ah!" exclaimed Charley, "I'm glad he's here. Come, now, let us take awalk in the wood; these good people stare at us as if we were ghosts."And taking Jacques's arm, he led him beyond the circuit of the camp,turned into a path which, winding among the thick underwood, speedilyscreened them from view, and led them into a sequestered glade, throughwhich a rivulet trickled along its course, almost hid from view by thedense foliage and long grasses that overhung it.

  "What a delightful place to live in!" said Charley. "Do you ever thinkof building a hut in such a spot as this, Jacques, and settling downaltogether?"

  Charley's thoughts reverted to his sister Kate when he said this.

  "Why, no," replied Jacques, in a pensive tone, as if the question hadaroused some sorrowful recollections; "I can't say that I'd like tosettle here _now_. There _was_ a time when I thought nothin' could bebetter than to squat in the woods with one or two jolly comrades, and--"(Jacques sighed); "but times is changed now, master, and so is my mind.My chums are most of them dead or gone, one way or other. No; Ishouldn't care to squat alone."

  Charley thought of the hut _without_ Kate, and it seemed so desolate anddreary a dwelling, notwithstanding its beautiful situation, that heagreed with his companion that to "squat" _alone_ would never do at all.

  "No, man was not made to live alone," continued Jacques, pursuing thesubject; "even the Injins draw together. I never knew but one as didn'tlike his fellows, and he's gone now, poor fellow. He cut his foot withan axe one day, while fellin' a tree. It was a bad cut; and havin'nobody to look after him, he half bled and half starved to death."

  "By the way, Jacques," said Charley, stepping over the clear brook, andfollowing the track which led up the opposite bank, "what did you say tothese redskins? You made them a most eloquent speech apparently."

  "Why, as to that, I can't boast much of its eloquence, but I think itwas clear enough. I told them that they were a great nation--for yousee, Mr Charles, the red men are just like the white in their fondnessfor butter; so I gave them some to begin with, though, for the matter o'that, I'm not overly fond o' givin' butter to any man, red or white.But I holds that it's as well always to fall in with the ways andcustoms o' the people a man happens to be among, so long as them waysand customs a'n't contrary to what's right. It makes them feel morekindly to you, an' don't raise any on-necessary ill-will. However, theKnisteneux _are_ a brave race; and when I told them that the hearts oftheir enemies trembled when they heard of them, I told nothing but thetruth; for the Chipewyans are a miserable set, and not much given tofighting."

  "Your principles on that point won't stand much sifting, I fear,"replied Charley: "according to your own showing, you would fall into theChipewyans' way of glorifying themselves on account of their bravery, ifyou chanced to be dwelling among them, and yet you say they are notbrave. That would not be sticking to truth, Jacques, would it?"

  "Well," replied Jacques, with a smile, "perhaps not exactly; but I'msure there could be small harm in helping the miserable objects to boastsometimes, for they've little else than boasting to comfort them."

  "And yet, Jacques, I cannot help feeling that truth is a grand, aglorious thing, that should not be trifled with even in small matters."

  Jacques opened his eyes a little. "Then do you think, master, that aman should _never_ tell a lie, no matter what fix he may be in?"

  "I think not, Jacques."

  The hunter paused a few minutes, and looked as if an unusual train ofideas had been raised in his mind by the turn their conversation hadtaken. Jacques was a man of no religion, and little morality, beyondwhat flowed from a naturally kind, candid disposition, and entertainedthe belief that the _end_, if a good one, always justifies the _means_--a doctrine which, had it been clearly exposed to him in all its bearingsand results, would have been spurned by his straightforward nature withthe indignant contempt that it merits.

  "Mr Charles," he said at length, "I once travelled across the plains tothe head waters of the Missouri with a party of six trappers. One nightwe came to a part of the plains which was very much broken up with woodhere and there, and bein' a good place for water we camped. While theother lads were gettin' ready the supper, I started off to look for adeer, as we had been unlucky that day--we had shot nothin'. Well, aboutthree miles from the camp I came upon a band o' somewhere about thirtySioux (ill-looking, sneaking dogs they are, too!) and before I couldwhistle they rushed upon me, took away my rifle and hunting-knife, andwere dancing round me like so many devils. At last a big, black-lookin'thief stepped forward, and said in the Cree language, `White men seldomtravel through this country alone; where are your comrades?' Now,thought I, here's a nice fix! If I pretend not to understand, they'llsend out parties in all directions, and as sure as fate they'll find mycompanions in half an hour, and butcher them in cold blood (for, yousee, we did not expect to find Sioux, or indeed any Injins, in themparts); so I made believe to be very narvous, and tried to tremble allover and look pale. Did you ever try to look pale and frightened, MrCharles?"

  "I can't say that I ever did," said Charley, laughing.

  "You can't think how troublesome it is," continued Jacques, with a lookof earnest simplicity. "I shook and trembled pretty well, but the moreI tried to grow pale, the more I grew red in the face; and when Ithought of the six broad-shouldered, raw-boned lads in the camp, and howeasy they would have made these jumping villains fly like chaff, if theyonly knew the fix I was in, I gave a frown that had well-nigh showed Iwas shamming. Hows'ever, what with shakin' a little more and givin' oneor two most awful groans, I managed to deceive them. Then I said I washunter to a party of white men that were travellin' from Red River toSt. Louis, with all their goods, and wives, and children, and that theywere away in the plains about a league off.

  "The big chap looked very hard into my face when I said this, to see ifI was telling the truth; and I tried to make my teeth chatter, but itwouldn't do, so I took to groanin' very bad instead. But them Sioux aresuch awful liars nat'rally that they couldn't understand the signs oftruth, even if they saw them. `Whitefaced coward,' says he to me, `tellme in what direction your people are.' At this I made believe not tounderstand; but the big chap flourished his knife before my face, calledme a dog, and told me to point out the direction. I looked as simple asI could, and said I would rather not. At this they laughed loudly, andthen gave a yell, and said if I didn't show them the direction theywould roast me alive. So I pointed towards a part of the plains prettywide o' the spot where our camp was. `Now, lead us to them,' said thebig chap, givin' me a shove with the butt of his gun; `an' if you havetold lies--' he gave the handle of his scalpin'-knife a slap, as much asto say he'd tickle up my liver with it. Well, away we went in silence,me thinkin' all the time how I was to get out o' the scrape. I led thempretty close past our camp, hopin' that the lads would hear us. Ididn't dare to yell out, as that would have showed them there wassomebody within hearin', and they would have made short work of me.Just as we came near the place where my c
ompanions lay, a prairie wolfsprang out from under a bush where it had been sleepin'; so I gave aloud hurrah, and shied my cap at it. Giving a loud growl, the big Injinhit me over the head with his fist, and told me to keep silence. In afew minutes I heard the low, distant howl of a wolf. I recognised thevoice or one of my comrades, and knew that they had seen us, and wouldbe on our track soon. Watchin' my opportunity, and walkin' for a goodbit as if I was awful tired--all but done up--to throw them off theirguard, I suddenly tripped up the big chap as he was stepping over asmall brook, and dived in among the bushes. In a moment a dozen bulletstore up the bark on the trees about me, and an arrow passed through myhair. The clump of wood into which I had dived was about half a milelong; and as I could run well (I've found in my experience that whitemen are more than a match for redskins at their own work), I was almostout of range by the time I was forced to quit the cover and take to theplain. When the blackguard got out of the cover, too, and saw mecuttin' ahead like a deer, they gave a yell of disappointment, and sentanother shower of arrows and bullets after me, some of which came nearerthan was pleasant. I then headed for our camp with the whole packscreechin' at my heels. `Yell away, you stupid sinners,' thought I;`some of you shall pay for your music.' At that moment an arrow grazedmy shoulder, and looking over it, I saw that the black fellow I hadpitched into the water was far ahead of the rest, strainin' after melike mad, and every now and then stopping to try an arrow on me; so Ikept a look-out, and when I saw him stop to draw, I stopped too, anddodged, so the arrows passed me, and then we took to our heels again.In this way I ran for dear life till I came up to the cover. As I cameclose up I saw our six fellows crouchin' in the bushes, and one o' themtakin' aim almost straight for my face. `Your day's come at last,'thought I, looking over my shoulder at the big Injin, who was drawinghis bow again. Just then there was a sharp crack heard: a bulletwhistled past my ear, and the big fellow fell like a stone, while mycomrade stood coolly up to reload his rifle. The Injins, on seein'this, pulled up in a moment; and our lads stepping forward, delivered avolley that made three more o' them bite the dust. There would havebeen six in that fix, but, somehow or other, three of us pitched uponthe same man, who was afterwards found with a bullet in each eye and onethrough his heart. They didn't wait for more, but turned about andbolted like the wind. Now, Mr Charles, if I had told the truth thattime, we would have been all killed; and if I had simply said nothin' totheir questions, they would have sent out to scour the country, and havefound out the camp for sartin, so that the only way to escape was bytellin' them a heap o' downright lies."

  Charley looked very much perplexed at this.

  "You have indeed placed me in a difficulty. I know not what I wouldhave done. I don't know even what I _ought to do_ under thesecircumstances. Difficulties may perplex me, and the force ofcircumstances might tempt me to do what I believed to be wrong. I am asinner, Jacques, like other mortals, I know; but one thing I am quitesure of--namely, that when men speak it should _always_ be truth and_never_ falsehood."

  Jacques looked perplexed too. He was strongly impressed with thenecessity of telling falsehood in the circumstances in which he had beenplaced, as just related, while at the same time he felt deeply thegrandeur and the power of Charley's last remark.

  "I should have been under the sod _now_," said he, "if I had not told alie _then_. Is it better to die than to speak falsehood?"

  "Some men have thought so," replied Charley. "I acknowledge thedifficulty of _your_ case, and of all similar cases. I don't know whatshould be done; but I have read of a minister of the gospel whose peoplewere very wicked and would not attend to his instructions, although theycould not but respect himself, he was so consistent and Christianlike inhis conduct. Persecution arose in the country where he lived, and menand women were cruelly murdered because of their religious belief. Fora long time he was left unmolested; but one day a band of soldiers cameto his house, and asked him whether he was a Papist or a Protestant(Papist, Jacques, being a man who has sold his liberty in religiousmatters to the Pope, and a Protestant being one who protests againstsuch an ineffably silly and unmanly state of slavery). Well, his peopleurged the good old man to say he was a Papist, telling him that he wouldthen be spared to live among them, and preach the true faith for manyyears perhaps. Now, if there was one thing that this old man would havetoiled for and _died_ for, it was that his people should become trueChristians--and he told them so; `but,' he added, `I will not tell a lieto accomplish that end, my children--no, not even to save my life.' Sohe told the soldiers that he was a Protestant, and immediately theycarried him away, and he was soon afterwards burned to death."

  "Well," said Jacques, "_he_ didn't gain much by sticking to the truth, Ithink."

  "I'm not so sure of _that_. The story goes on to say that he _rejoiced_that he had done so, and wouldn't draw back even when he was in theflames. But the point lies here, Jacques: so deep an impression did theold man's conduct make on his people, that from that day forward theywere noted for their Christian life and conduct. They brought up theirchildren with a deeper reverence for the truth than they would otherwisehave done, always bearing in affectionate remembrance, and holding up tothem as an example, the unflinching truthfulness of the good old man whowas burned in the year of the terrible persecutions; and at last theirinfluence and example had such an effect that the Protestant religionspread like wild-fire, far and wide around them, so that the very thingwas accomplished for which the old pastor said he would have died--accomplished, too, very much in consequence of his death, and in a wayand to an extent that very likely would not have been the case had helived and preached among them for a hundred years."

  "I don't understand it nohow," said Jacques; "it seems to me right bothways and wrong both ways, and all upside down everyhow."

  Charley smiled. "Your remark is about as clear as my head on thesubject, Jacques; but I still remain convinced that truth is _right_ andthat falsehood is _wrong_, and that we should stick to the first throughthick and thin."

  "I s'pose," remarked the hunter, who had walked along in deep cogitationfor the last five minutes, and had apparently come to some conclusion ofprofound depth and sagacity--"I s'pose that it's all human natur'; thatsome men takes to preachin' as Injins take to huntin', and that tounderstand sich things requires them to begin young, and risk theirlives in it, as I would in followin' up a grizzly she-bear with cubs."

  "Yonder is an illustration of one part of your remark. They begin_young_ enough, anyhow," said Charley, pointing as he spoke to anopening in the bushes, where a particularly small Indian boy stood inthe act of discharging an arrow.

  The two men halted to watch his movements. According to a common customamong juvenile Indians during the warm months of the year, he wasdressed in _nothing_ save a mere rag tied round his waist. His body wasvery brown, extremely round, fat, and wonderfully diminutive, while hislittle legs and arms were disproportionately small. He was so young asto be barely able to walk, and yet there he stood, his black eyesglittering with excitement, his tiny bow bent to its utmost, and ablunt-headed arrow about to be discharged at a squirrel, whose flighthad been suddenly arrested by the unexpected apparition of Charley andJacques. As he stood there for a single instant, perfectly motionless,he might have been mistaken for a grotesque statue of an Indian cupid.Taking advantage of the squirrel's pause, the child let fly the arrow,hit it exactly on the point of the nose, and turned it over, dead--aconsummation which he greeted with a rapid succession of frightfulyells.

  "Cleverly done, my lad; you're a chip of the old block, I see," saidJacques, patting the child's head as he passed, and retraced his steps,with Charley, to the Indian camp.