by Quincy Allen
CHAPTER XV.
IN A FOREIGN LAND.
On either side the boys could see great eddies in the stream, in whichthe water whirled as if it were twisted about on some unseen axis. Theboat itself was moving swiftly, and as it was swept onward by thecurrent, they of course could not fully perceive the motion of theriver. The experience was a novel one, and the alarm of the boys wasbut natural.
Their confidence was in a measure restored when they saw that Ethanapparently was not frightened, and as he noticed them watchingintently a whirling eddy off to their right, he laughed and said,--
"That's a pretty good twister, isn't it, boys?"
"Yes," replied Bert. "What would happen to us if we should be caughtin it?"
"Nothin'. Nothin' at all."
As the boys looked up in surprise, he continued, "There's a mightysight o' difference between the eddy and the current, let me tellyou. Some folks mistake one for the other in more ways than one, I'mthinkin'. In my paper, which comes reg'lar every Friday, I sometimesread the most alarmin' articles. I suppose the men that write themthink they're all true enough, an' they really are afraid the countryis goin' to the dogs. When I read 'em I confess I'm a bit skeered attimes; for what with the strikes an' riots an' all sorts o' thingsthat happen, it does look like as if it was goin' to be a bit of ablow; but I look out o' the window o' my house, an' I see the greatriver a-hurryin' on as if it was all the while afraid it would belate, or wouldn't get there on time. But I see more'n the current, forI see some big eddies, too. They whirl an' boil as if there was a bigfire down below, an' when I see 'em I always think that some folkscan't tell the difference between a eddy and the stream. Then I makeup my mind that that's what's the trouble with those newspaperfellows. They've seen a eddy and mistook it for the current: an' allthe time the great stream is a-goin' on jist as smooth and swift as yeplease. This river is a great teacher, in my opinion."
Ethan's quaint words served to quiet the fears of the boys, thoughdoubtless they failed to appreciate the deeper philosophy which laybeneath them. At all events, they soon perceived that the river wascalmer now, and that the boat was not moving at the speed it had had afew minutes before.
"That must have been one of the rapids, wasn't it, Ethan?" inquiredJock.
"Rapids? I rather guess not. That spot's no more like the rapids thana milk pail's like a mill-pond. No, sir! When ye strike the rapids,ye'll know it. It's most like slidin' down hill on water."
"But how do the boats come up the river, then?" queried Ben. "They docome up, for I see them every day. I shouldn't think they could getthrough the rapids, if they're like what you say they are."
"No more they don't."
As the boys looked blankly at him, Ethan laughed and said, "They comeup the canal. Course they can't get through the rapids."
"I didn't know there was a canal," said Ben.
"Humph," grunted the boatman; but it was evident that his opinion oftheir knowledge was but slight, in spite of the fact that they hadendeavored to impress him with the entrance into college they had allgained.
"Are we going down to the rapids to-day?" inquired Bert.
"To-day? Well, I guess not," said Ethan, decidedly. "How far down theriver d'ye think them rapids be?"
"I didn't know," protested Bert, hastily. "I only asked forinformation."
"We'll go down there some time, but we'll have to make a two or threeday trip of it. Even this boat o' mine, and she's no laggard, I'd haveye understand, couldn't make it in a day. But we're goin' down there.There's fishin' below the Longue Seaut that leaves Goose Bay and EelBay and all the spots among the islands in the shade."
"What do they catch?" inquired Bob.
"Fish."
"Oh!" And Bob lapsed into silence once more.
Indeed, it was becoming more and more difficult to deal with Ethan;and his estimate of their knowledge, or rather their lack of it, wasso apparent that they began to feel as if they were the embodiment ofthe city greenhorns he had so contemptuously referred to when they hadfirst entered camp.
For a time there was silence on board, and the boys all gavethemselves up to the enjoyment of the hour. In the distance were theshores, and in various places the farmers could be seen at their work.The farmhouses, low and quaint, appeared here and there, and thecottages, though less numerous than among the Thousand Islands, werestill much in evidence. Perched on some high bluff along the shore, orbuilt in groups in some grove, they continually presented a spectacleof life far different from that which was to be seen in the towns orcities.
To Ethan their coming was the most natural thing in the world, forwhere could another such region be found as that along the borders ofthe majestic St. Lawrence? The only thing against which he rebelledwas the price paid for the spot on which some cottage had beenerected, and as they passed the summer homes he frequently referred tothe amount of money which had been paid for the lots.
"That's where Tod Church lives," he explained, pointing as he spoke toa low farmhouse on the shore, near which stood several modestcottages.
"Is that so?" replied Bob seriously, as if the abode of Tod was amatter of intense interest to him. "Was he in the War of 1812 too?"
"No; he wasn't. Tod's a young man. He's only fifty-nine, jest threemonths younger'n I be. But Tod's got rich!"
"You don't mean it!" exclaimed the serious Bob. "How did the aforesaidTod acquire his wealth?"
"He didn't do nuthin', an' yet he's well off, Tod is. Some folks isborn lucky. That's all the difference there is between folks, in myopinion. Some has luck for 'em and some has it agin 'em."
"And Tod had it with him, did he?" inquired Bob.
"He did that. His father left him well fixed, for Tod had the houseand fifty acres o' land all clear. And now he's gone an' sold somelots up there on that bluff where he couldn't raise nothin', and he'sgot two thousan' dollars in clean money for 'em. Neow if that isn'tluck, then I don't know what luck is," said Ethan, impressively. "Hejest works when he feels like it, and when he doesn't, he doesn't.Jest takes his ease and comes an' goes when an' where he pleases, an'doesn't ask no odds of nobody."
"Fortunate youth!" murmured Bob; and again silence came upon theparty.
For an hour more they sped on before the breeze, which still continuedstrong. The sun was high in the heavens, and across the bright blue ofthe sky occasional masses of silver-colored clouds passed. It was aperfect summer day, and the deep peace which rested over all thingsseemed to include the boys in its embrace. The boat was handledperfectly by Ethan and Tom, and it must have required men made ofdifferent material from that in our boys not to feel the keen delightof living amidst such surroundings. The rush and roar of the city werethings impossible to be imagined, and even the grind of the closingdays in school, and the prospect of the hard work in college, were allvague and meaningless.
"What's that place ahead, Ethan?" suddenly exclaimed Jock, sittingerect as he spoke, and pointing to a place of considerable size totheir left.
"Brockville."
"Why don't we stop there and get dinner?"
"I've got something for ye to eat aboard the boat."
"I know that; but we'll want it all on our way back."
"It'll cost ye four shillin' apiece for your dinner if ye go to thehotel, though I know another place where ye can get it for threeshillin'; but I'm not sure the place is bein' run now."
"Never mind the cost, Ethan," said Jock, recklessly. "We're out for atime of it, and even such extravagance can be put up with once in alifetime."
"Jest as you say," replied Ethan, though it was evident that he feltin a measure responsible for the expenditures of the lads under hiscare.
The dock was soon gained, and as Ethan made his boat fast, thelight-hearted boys leaped ashore. "Come on, Ethan! Come on, Tom," saidJock. "We'll go up to the hotel and get our dinner."
"Who? Me!" exclaimed the boatman in surprise.
"Yes, you. You and Tom too. Come on, both of you."
"No," said Etha
n, shaking his head decidedly. "I ain't a-goin' to payno four shillin' for a dinner when I've got enough to eat aboard myboat."
"Well, let Tom come, anyway," urged Jock, perceiving that Ethan wasnot willing to accept the invitation. "We should be glad to have bothof you come, and we'll stand treat for the dinners."
Ethan was about to refuse permission for Tom to accompany the boys,but perceiving the look of intense desire upon his son's face, and asJock increased his solicitations, he relented, and together the boysstarted up the street.
It was nearly two hours later when they returned, and as Ethanperceived them, he said, "I hope ye got yer money's worth, boys."
"It wasn't our fault if we didn't," laughed Jock. "Now, Ethan, we wantto look about the place a little. Will you come with us?"
"I s'pose I'd better, or ye'll git lost," replied the boatman; andsoon afterward the little party was walking about the town, which, inits architecture and life, presented many contrasts to that withwhich they were more familiar.
When they approached the public buildings, Ethan related the story ofthe rescue which a party of American soldiers had made there in theWar of 1812. It seemed that a considerable body of prisoners had beensecured by the British, and confined in the jail at Brockville, orElizabethtown, as the place was known in the earlier days. Theirfriends on the other side of the river had assembled for their rescue,and crossed the ice one dark night and fell upon the guard, and atlast secured the release of their fellows. Ethan told the story withmany quaint additions of his own, and we may be sure his young friendswere deeply interested.
"This _is_ a great country," said Ben, when Ethan ceased. "It'shistoric ground from one end of the river to the other."
"I s'pose so," remarked Ethan, quietly, "though I don't take muchinterest in such things. Folks is queer. They call it hist'ry when alot o' men git up with guns and shoot at one another; but when theyare peaceable like, and just 'tend to their farms an' mind their ownbusiness, then it isn't any hist'ry at all. I've seen a crowd gatherin a minit up at the bay or Clayton around a man what's drunk, butwhen a man is sober and decent they don't pay no 'tention to him atall. It seems to me this 'hist'ry' you're talkin' about is a good deallike that."
"Perhaps it is," admitted Ben. "I hadn't thought of it before."
On their way back to the boat Ethan stopped to make a few purchases,and carefully stowed the packages on board when they set sail.
"We'll go a bit farther down the river," he said, as he headed theboat down the stream. "We've time enough."
"Ethan, what have you got in those bundles?" inquired Ben.
"Some things my wife wanted me to git. Can buy 'em cheaper over here."
"But they'll cost you as much after you've paid the duty, won't they?"
"Duty? Duty? Who's a-goin' to pay any duty, I'd like to know?" repliedEthan, sharply.
"Why, I thought everybody had to pay that when they bought things inCanada."
"Well, I'm not goin' to. I'd like to know why I can't buy things inBrockville if I take a notion, 'specially when they're cheaper."
"But I thought everybody up here believed in a high tariff, and votedfor it."
"So they do. We ain't a-goin' to have them come over into our countryand compete with us! Not much!"
"How can you buy over there and not pay duty, then?"
"Hey? What's that ye say? Ye act as if ye thought I'd been stealin'.Most everybody does it, an' I guess it's all fair enough. Did you payduty for that dinner ye et up to the hotel? Ye brought some thingsaway inside o' ye, an' I brought some outside o' me. Tell me thedifference, will ye?"
"Ben ought to have paid," laughed Bob. "When a man buys food by thewholesale, he ought to pay duty, I'm sure."
Ethan said no more, and as the boys were not disposed to dispute thestrange ethics in which he evidently believed, the party once morebecame silent.
An hour later Ethan sighted a steam-yacht coming up the river, and inresponse to his hail it stopped and took the boat in tow. This madethe returning voyage easy, and added to the novelty as well; and justbefore dusk the line was cast off, and the boat was headed for thecamp, where soon after the boys arrived safely.
"I'll get ye some supper now," said Ethan, as he and Tom at once begantheir preparations for the evening meal.
"Good for you, Ethan!" said Ben. "All the 'p'is'n things' you had onboard have been long since exhausted."
"So I noticed. I wonder sometimes if there's anything that will fillye up."
"Your supper will, I'm sure."
"I'll try it, though I'm doubtful," replied the boatman, grimly.
A little later he left the tent and approached the boys, holdingsomething in his hands. "Somebody's been here while we've been gone,"he said. "They've left a letter and their tickets."
Jock received the note and the "tickets," as Ethan called the visitingcards, and tearing open the missive he read it and then said: "Mr. andMrs. Clarke have been here, fellows. They have left an invitation forus. Keep still and I'll read it."
He read the letter aloud, and in a moment his friends were asinterested in the contents as he himself had been.