CHAPTER VI.
LIFE IN THE LUMBER CAMP.
For a moment there was absolute silence in the shanty, the sudden andeffectual intervention of the big foreman in Frank Kingston's behalffilling the onlookers with astonishment. But then, as they recoveredthemselves, there came a burst of laughter that made the rafters ring, inthe midst of which Damase, gathering himself together, slunk scowling tohis berth with a face that was dark with hate.
Not deigning to take any further notice of him, Johnston turned to goback to his corner, touching Frank on his shoulder as he did so, andsaying to him in a low tone,--
"Come with me, my lad; I want a word with you."
Still trembling from the excitement of the scene through which he hadjust passed, Frank followed the foreman into his little sanctum, theinside of which he had never seen before, for it was kept jealouslylocked whenever its occupant was absent. Johnston threw himself clown onhis bunk, and motioned Frank to take a seat upon the chest. For a fewmoments he regarded him in silence, and so intently that, although hisexpression was full of kindness, and it seemed of admiration, too, theboy felt his face flushing under his steady scrutiny. At last the foremanspoke.
"You're a plucky lad, Frank. Just like your father-God bless him' He wasa good friend to me when I needed a friend sorely. I heard all that wenton to-night, though I didn't see it, and had some hint of it before,though I didn't let on, for I wanted to see what stuff you were made of.But you played the man, my boy, and your father would have been proud tosee you. Now just you go right ahead, Frank; and if any of those Frenchrascals or anybody else tries to hinder you, out of this shanty he'll go,neck and crop, and stay out, as sure as my name is Dan Johnston."
"You're very kind, Mr. Johnston," said Frank, his eyes glisteningsomewhat suspiciously, for, to tell the truth, this warm praise comingafter the recent strain upon his nerves was a little too much for hisself-control. "I felt sometimes like telling you when the men tormentedme so; but I didn't want to be a tale-bearer, and I was hoping they'd gettired of it and give up of their own accord."
"It's best as it is, lad," replied Johnston. "If the men found out youtold me, they'd be like to think hard of you. But there's no fear of thatnow. And look here, Frank. After this, when you want to read your Biblein peace, and say your prayers, just come in here. No one'll bother youhere, and you can sit down on the chest there and have a quiet time toyourself."
Frank's face fairly beamed with delight at this unexpected invitation,and he stood up on his feet to thank his kind friend.
"Oh, Mr. Johnston, I'm so glad! I've never been able to read my Bible orsay my prayers right since I came to the shanty-there's always such anoise going on. But I won't mind that in here. It's so good of you to letme come in."
The foreman smiled in his deep, serious way, and then as he relapsed intosilence, and took up again the book he had laid down to spring to Frank'sassistance, Frank thought it time to withdraw; and with a respectful"Good-night, sir," which Johnston acknowledged by a nod, returned to thelarger room.
The shantymen were evidently awaiting his reappearance with muchcuriosity; but he went quietly back to his bunk, picked up his Bible,finished the passage in the midst of which he had been interrupted, and,having said his prayers, lay down to sleep without a word to any one; forno one questioned him, and he felt no disposition to start a discussionby questioning any of the others.
From this time forth he could see clearly that two very differentopinions concerning himself prevailed in the shanty. By all the Englishmembers of the gang, and some of the. French, headed by honest Baptiste,he was looked upon, with hearty liking and admiration, as a plucky chapthat knew how to take care of himself; by the remainder of the Frenchcontingent, with Damase as the ruling spirit, he was regarded as astuck-up youngster that wanted taking down badly, and who was trying tomake himself a special favourite with the foreman just to advance hisown selfish ends. Gladly would Frank have been on friendly terms withall; but this being now impossible, through no fault of his own, he madeup his mind to go on his way as quietly as possible, being constantlycareful to give no cause of offence to those who, as he well knew, wereonly too eager to take it.
There were some slight flurries of snow, fragile and short-lived heraldsof winter's coming, during the latter part of November, and then Decemberwas ushered in by a grand storm that lasted a whole day, and made gladthe hearts of the lumbermen by filling the forest aisles with a deep,soft, spotless carpet, that asked only to be packed smooth and hard inorder to make perfect roads over which to transport the noble logs thathad been accumulating upon the "roll-ways" during the past weeks.
A shantyman is never so completely in his element as when the snow liestwo feet deep upon the earth's brown breast. An open winter is his bane,Jack Frost his best friend; and there was a perceptible rise in thespirits of the occupants of Camp Kippewa as the mercury sank lower andlower in the tube of the foreman's thermometer. Plenty of snow meant notonly easy hauling all winter long, but a full river and "high water" inthe spring-time, and no difficulty in getting the drive of logs thatwould represent their winter's work down the Kippewa to the Grand Riverbeyond. Frank did not entirely share their exultation. The colder it gotthe more wood had to be chopped, the more food had to be cooked--for themen's appetites showed a marked increase--and, furthermore, the task ofkeeping the water-barrels filled became one of serious magnitude. Butbracing himself to meet his growing burdens, he toiled away cheerfully,resisting every temptation to grumble, his clear tuneful whistling of thesacred airs in vogue at Calumet making Baptiste, who had a quick ear formusic, so familiar with "Rock of Ages," "Abide with Me," "Nearer, my God,to Thee," and other melodies, which have surely strayed down to us fromheaven, that unconsciously he took to whistling them himself, much toFrank's amusement and approval.
The days were very much alike. At early dawn, before it was yet lightenough to see clearly, Johnston would emerge from his corner, and, instentorian tones whose meaning was not to be mistaken, shout to thesleeping men scattered along the rows of sloping bunks.
"Up with ye, men! up with ye!" And with many a growl and grunt theywould, one by one, unroll from their blankets. As their only preparationfor bed had been to lay aside their coats and boots or moccasins, themorning toilet did not consume much time. A dash of cold water as aneye-opener, a tugging on of boots or lacing up of moccasins, a scramblinginto coats, and that was the sum of it. The only brush and comb in thecamp belonged to Frank, and he felt half ashamed to use them, because noone else thought such articles necessary.
Breakfast hurriedly disposed of, all but Baptiste and Frank sallied forthinto the snow, to be seen no more until mid-day. There were just fiftypersons, all told, in the camp, each man having his definite work to dothe carpenter, whose business it was to keep the sleighs in repair; theteamsters, who directed the hauling of the logs; the "sled-tenders," whosaw that the loads were well put on; the "head chopper" and hisassistants, whose was the laborious yet fascinating task of felling theforest monarchs; the "sawyers," who cut their prostrate forms intoconvenient lengths; the "scorers," who stripped off the branches and slabsides from tree trunks set apart for square timber; and finally, the"hewer," who with his huge, broad axe made square the "stick," as thegreat piece of timber is called.
All these men had to be fed three times a day, and almost insatiable weretheir appetites, as poor Frank had no chance to forget. Happily they didnot demand the same variety in their bill of fare as do the guests at ametropolitan hotel. Pork and beans, bread and tea, these were the stapleitems. Anything else was regarded as an "extra." A rather monotonousdiet, undoubtedly; but it would not be easy to prescribe a better one formen working twelve hours a day, in the open air, through the still,steady cold of a Canadian winter in the backwoods.
At noon the hungry toilers trooped back for dinner, which they devouredin ravenous haste that there might be as much as possible left of thehour for a lounge upon the bunk, with pipe in mouth, in luxuriousidleness. Then as th
e dusk gathered they appeared once more, this timefor the night, and disposed to eat their supper with much more decorousslowness. Supper over, the snow-soaked mittens and stockings hung aboutthe fire to dry, and pipes put in full blast, they were ready for song,story, or dance, until bed time.
Thus day followed day, until Frank, whose work kept him closely confinedto the camp, grew so weary of it that he was on the verge of heartilyrepenting that he had ever consented to be a chore-boy, ever thought thatwas the only condition upon which he could gratify his longing for alumberman's life, when another mischance became his good fortune, and hewas unexpectedly relieved of a large part of his tiresome duties. Thiswas how it came about.
One morning he was surprised by seeing one of the sleighs returning agood while before the dinner hour, and was somewhat alarmed when henoticed that it bore the form of a man, who had evidently been the victimof an accident. Happily, however, it proved to be not a very seriouscase. An immense pine in falling headlong had borne with it a number ofsmaller trees that stood near by, and one of these had fallen upon anunwary "scorer," hurling him to the ground, and badly bruising his rightleg, besides causing some internal injury. He was insensible when pickedup, but came to himself soon after reaching the shanty, where Frank madehim as comfortable as he could, even putting him upon his own mattressthat he might lie as easy as possible.
The injured man proved to be one of Damase Deschenaux's allies; but Frankdid not let that prevent his showing him every kindness while he wasrecovering from his injuries, with the result of completely winning thepoor ignorant fellow's heart, much to Damase's disgust. Damase, indeed,did his best to persuade Laberge that Frank's attentions were promptedby some secret motive, and that it was not to be trusted. But deeds arefar stronger arguments than words, and the sufferer was not to beconvinced. By the end of a week he was able to limp about the shanty, butit was very evident that he would not be fit to take up his work againthat season. This state of affairs caused the foreman some concern, forhe felt loath to send the unfortunate fellow home, and yet he could notkeep him in idleness. Then it appeared that what is one man's extremitymay be another's opportunity. Johnston knew very well that howeverbravely he might go about it, Frank's work could not help beingdistasteful to him, and a bright plan flashed into his mind. CallingFrank into his corner one evening, he said,--
"How would you like, my lad, to have some of the out-door work for achange?"
The mere expression of Frank's face was answer enough. It fairly shonewith gladness, as he replied,--
"I would like it above all things, sir, for I am a little tired of beingnothing but a chore-boy."
"Well, I think we might manage it, Frank," said the foreman. "You see,Laberge can't do his work again this winter, and it goes against my heartto send him home, for he's nobody but himself to depend upon. So I've hitupon this plan: Laberge can't chop the wood or haul the water, but he canhelp Baptiste in cooking and cleaning up. Suppose, then, you were to getthe wood ready and see about the water in the morning, and then come outinto the woods with us after dinner, leaving Laberge to do the rest ofthe work. How would that suit you?"
"It would suit me just splendidly, sir," exclaimed Frank, delightedly. "Ican see about the wood and water all right before dinner, and I'll be soglad to go to the woods with you. I'll just do the best I can to fillLaberge's place."
"I'm right sure you will, Frank," replied Johnston. "So you may considerit settled for the present, at any rate."
Frank felt like dancing a jig on the way back to his bunk, and not eventhe scowling face of Damase, who had been listening to the conversationin the foreman's room with keen Indian ears, and had caught enough of itto learn of the arrangement made, could cast any damper upon his spirits.In this case half a loaf was decidedly better than no bread at all.Freedom from the restraints and irksome duties of chore-boy's lot foreven half the day was a precious boon, and the happy boy lay down to restthat night feeling like quite a different person from what he had beenof late, when there seemed no way of escape from the monotonous,wearisome task he had taken upon himself, except to give it all up andreturn to Calumet, which was almost the last thing that he could imaginehimself doing; for Frank Kingston had plenty of pride as well as pluck,and his love for lumbering had not suffered any eclipse because of hisexperiences.
But what is one man's meat is another man's poison, according to thehomely adage, and in this case what made Frank so happy made--Damasemiserable. The jealous, revengeful fellow saw in it only another proofof the foreman's favouritism, and was also pleased to regard therelegating of Laberge to the dish-washing and so forth as the degradationof a compatriot, which it behoved him to resent, since Laberge seemedlacking in the spirit to do it himself. Had he imagined that he wouldmeet with the support of the majority, he would have sought to organize arebellion in the camp. But he knew well enough that such a thing wasutterly out of the question, so he was forced to content himself withfresh determinations to "get even" with the foreman and his favourite insome way before the winter passed; and, as will be seen, he cameperilously near attaining his object.
The Young Woodsman; Or, Life in the Forests of Canada Page 6