The Young Fur Traders

On the present occasion, the snow, having recently fallen, was soft, and the walking, consequently, what is called heavy.

“Come on,” shouted the accountant, as he came to a stand for the third time within half an hour, to await the coming up of poor Hamilton, who, being rather awkward in snow-shoe walking even in daylight, found it nearly impossible in the dark.

“Wait a little, please,” replied a faint voice in the distance; “I’ve got among a quantity of willows, and find it very difficult to get on. I’ve been down twice al—”

The sudden cessation of the voice, and a loud crash as of breaking branches, proved too clearly that our friend had accomplished his third fall.

“There he goes again,” exclaimed Harry Somerville, who came up at the moment. “I’ve helped him up once already. We’ll never get to North River at this rate. What is to be done?”

“Let’s see what has become of him this time, however,” said the accountant, as he began to retrace his steps. “If I mistake not, he made rather a heavy plunge that time, judging from the sound.”

At that moment the clouds overhead broke, and a moonbeam shot down into the forest, throwing a pale light over the cold scene. A few steps brought Harry and the accountant to the spot whence the sound had proceeded, and a loud, startling laugh rang through the night air, as the latter suddenly beheld poor Hamilton struggling, with his arms, head, and shoulders stuck into the snow, his snow-shoes twisted and sticking with the heels up and awry, in a sort of rampant confusion, and his gun buried to the locks beside him. Regaining one’s perpendicular after a fall in deep snow, when the feet are encumbered by a pair of long snow-shoes, is by no means an easy thing to accomplish, in consequence of the impossibility of getting hold of anything solid on which to rest the hands. The depth is so great that the outstretched arms cannot find bottom, and every successive struggle only sinks the unhappy victim deeper down. Should no assistance be near, he will soon beat the snow to a solidity that will enable him to rise, but not in a very enviable or comfortable condition.

“Give me a hand, Harry,” gasped Hamilton, as he managed to twist his head upwards for a moment.

“Here you are,” cried Harry, holding out his hand and endeavouring to suppress his desire to laugh; “up with you,” and in another moment the poor youth was upon his legs, with every fold and crevice about his person stuffed to repletion with snow.

“Come, cheer up,” cried the accountant, giving the youth a slap on the back; “there’s nothing like experience—the proverb says that it even teaches fools, so you need not despair.”

Hamilton smiled as he endeavoured to shake off some of his white coating.

“We’ll be all right immediately,” added Harry; “I see that the country ahead is more open, so the walking will be easier.”

“Oh, I wish that I had not come!” said Hamilton, sorrowfully, “because I am only detaining you. But perhaps I shall do better as we get on. At any rate I cannot go back now, as I could never find the way.”

“Go back! of course not,” said the accountant; “in a short time we shall get into the old woodcutters’ track of last year, and although it’s not beaten at all, yet it is pretty level and open, so that we shall get on famously.”

“Go on then,” sighed Hamilton.

“Drive ahead,” laughed Harry; and without further delay they resumed their march, which was soon rendered more cheerful as the clouds rolled away, the snow ceased to fall, and the bright, full moon poured its rays down upon their path.

For a long time they proceeded in silence, the muffled sound of the snow, as it sank beneath their regular footsteps, being the only interruption to the universal stillness around. There is something very solemnising in a scene such as we are now describing—the calm tranquillity of the arctic night, the pure whiteness of the snowy carpet, which rendered the dark firs inky black by contrast; the clear, cold, starry sky, that glimmered behind the dark clouds, whose heavy masses, now rolling across the moon, partially obscured the landscape, and anon, passing slowly away, let a flood of light down upon the forest, which, penetrating between the thick branches, scattered the surface of the snow as it were with flakes of silver. Sleep has often been applied as a simile to nature in repose, but in this case death seemed more appropriate. So silent, so cold, so still was the scene, that it filled the mind with an indefinable feeling of dread, as if there was some mysterious danger near. Once or twice during their walk the three travellers paused to rest, but they spoke little, and in subdued voices, as if they feared to break the silence of the night.

“It is strange,” said Harry, in a low tone, as he walked beside Hamilton, “that such a scene as this always makes me think more than usual of home.”

“And yet it is natural,” replied the other, “because it reminds us more forcibly than any other that we are in a foreign land—in the lonely wilderness—far away from home.”

Both Harry and Hamilton had been trained in families where the Almighty was feared and loved, and where their minds had been early led to reflect upon the Creator when regarding the works of His hand: their thoughts, therefore, naturally reverted to another home, compared with which this world is indeed a cold, lonely wilderness; but on such subjects they feared to converse, partly from a dread of the ridicule of reckless companions, partly from ignorance of each other’s feelings on religious matters, and although their minds were busy their tongues were silent.

The ground over which the greater part of their path lay was a swamp, which, being now frozen, was a beautiful white plain, so that their advance was more rapid, until they approached the belt of woodland that skirts North River. Here they again encountered the heavy snow, which had been such a source of difficulty to Hamilton at setting out. He had profited by his former experience, however, and by the exercise of an excessive degree of caution managed to scramble through the woods tolerably well, emerging at last, along with his companions, on the bleak margin of what appeared to be the frozen sea.

North River, at this place, is several miles broad, and the opposite shore is so low that the snow causes it to appear but a slight undulation of the frozen bed of the river. Indeed, it would not be distinguishable at all, were it not for the willow bushes and dwarf pines, whose tops, rising above the white garb of winter, indicate that terra firma lies below.

“What a cold, desolate-looking place!” said Hamilton, as the party stood still to recover breath before taking their way over the plain to the spot where the accountant’s traps were set. “It looks much more like the frozen sea than a river.”

“It can scarcely be called a river at this place,” remarked the accountant, “seeing that the water hereabouts is brackish, and the tides ebb and flow a good way up. In fact, this is the extreme mouth of North River; and if you turn your eyes a little to the right, towards yonder ice-hummock in the plain, you behold the frozen sea itself.”

“Where are your traps set?” inquired Harry.

“Down in the hollow, behind yon point covered with brushwood.”

“Oh, we shall soon get to them, then; come along,” cried Harry.

Harry was mistaken, however. He had not yet learned by experience the extreme difficulty of judging of distance in the uncertain light of night—a difficulty that was increased by his ignorance of the locality, and by the gleams of moonshine that shot through the driving clouds, and threw confused, fantastic shadows over the plain. The point which he had at first supposed was covered with low bushes, and about a hundred yards off, proved to be clad in reality with large bushes and small trees, and lay at a distance of two miles.

“I think you have been mistaken in supposing the point so near, Harry,” said Hamilton, as he trudged on beside his friend.

“A fact evident to the naked eye,” replied Harry. “How do your feet stand it, eh? Beginning to lose bark yet?”

Hamilton did not feel quite sure. “I think,” said he, softly, “that there is a blister under the big toe of my left foot. It feels very painful.”

“If you feel at all uncertain about it, you may rest assured that there is a blister. These things don’t give much pain at first. I’m sorry to tell you, my dear fellow, that you’ll be painfully aware of the fact to-morrow. However, don’t distress yourself; it’s a part of the experience that every one goes through in this country. Besides,” said Harry, smiling, “we can send to the fort for medical advice.”

“Don’t bother the poor fellow, and hold your tongue, Harry,” said the accountant, who now began to tread more cautiously as he approached the place where the traps were set.

“How many traps have you?” inquired Harry, in a low tone.

“Three,” replied the accountant.

“Do you know I have a very strange feeling about my heels—or rather a want of feeling,” said Hamilton, smiling dubiously.

“A want of feeling! what do you mean?” cried the accountant, stopping suddenly and confronting his young friend.

“Oh, I daresay it’s nothing,” he exclaimed, looking as if ashamed of having spoken of it; “only I feel exactly as if both my heels were cut off, and I were walking on tiptoe!”

“Say you so? then right about wheel. Your heels are frozen, man, and you’ll lose them if you don’t look sharp.”

“Frozen!” cried Hamilton, with a look of incredulity.

“Ay, frozen; and it’s lucky you told me. I’ve a place up in the woods here, which I call my winter camp, where we can get you put to rights. But step out; the longer we are about it the worse for you.”

Harry Somerville was at first disposed to think that the accountant jested, but seeing that he turned his back towards his traps, and made for the nearest point of the thick woods with a stride that betokened thorough sincerity, he became anxious too, and followed as fast as possible.

The place to which the accountant led his young friends was a group of fir trees which grew on a little knoll, that rose a few feet above the surrounding level country. At the foot of this hillock a small rivulet or burn ran in summer, but the only evidence of its presence now was the absence of willow bushes all along its covered narrow bed. A level tract was thus formed by nature, free from all underwood, and running inland about the distance of a mile, where it was lost in the swamp whence the stream issued. The wooded knoll or hillock lay at the mouth of this brook, and being the only elevated spot in the neighbourhood, besides having the largest trees growing on it, had been selected by the accountant as a convenient place for “camping out” on, when he visited his traps in winter, and happened to be either too late or disinclined to return home. Moreover, the spreading fir branches afforded an excellent shelter alike from wind and snow in the centre of the clump, while from the margin was obtained a partial view of the river and the sea beyond. Indeed, from this look-out there was a very fine prospect on clear winter nights of the white landscape, enlivened occasionally by groups of arctic foxes, which might be seen scampering about in sport, and gambolling among the hummocks of ice like young kittens.

“Now we shall turn up here,” said the accountant, as he walked a short way up the brook before mentioned, and halted in front of what appeared to be an impenetrable mass of bushes.

“We shall have to cut our way, then,” said Harry, looking to the right and left, in the vain hope of discovering a place where, the bushes being less dense, they might effect an entrance into the knoll or grove.

“Not so. I have taken care to make a passage into my winter camp, although it was only a whim, after all, to make a concealed entrance, seeing that no one ever passes this way except wolves and foxes, whose noses render the use of their eyes in most cases unnecessary.”

So saying, the accountant turned aside a thick branch, and disclosed a narrow track, into which he entered, followed by his two companions.

A few minutes brought them to the centre of the knoll. Here they found a clear space of about twenty feet in diameter, around which the trees circled so thickly that in daylight nothing could be seen but tree-stems as far as the eye could penetrate, while overhead the broad, flat branches of the firs, with their evergreen verdure, spread out and interlaced so thickly that very little light penetrated into the space below. Of course at night, even in moonlight, the place was pitch dark. Into this retreat the accountant led his companions, and bidding them stand still for a minute lest they should tumble into the fireplace, he proceeded to strike a light.

Those who have never travelled in the wild parts of this world can form but a faint conception of the extraordinary and sudden change that is produced, not only in the scene, but in the mind of the beholder, when a blazing fire is lighted in a dark night. Before the fire is kindled, and you stand, perhaps (as Harry and his friend did on the present occasion) shivering in the cold, the heart sinks, and sad, gloomy thoughts arise, while your eye endeavours to pierce the thick darkness, which, if it succeed in doing so, only adds to the effect by disclosing the pallid snow, the cold, chilling beams of the moon, the white vistas of savage scenery, the awe-inspiring solitudes that tell of your isolated condition, or stir up sad memories of other and far-distant scenes. But the moment the first spark of fire sends a fitful gleam of light upwards, these thoughts and feelings take wing and vanish. The indistinct scenery is rendered utterly invisible by the red light, which attracts and rivets the eye as if by a species of fascination. The deep shadows of the woods immediately around you grow deeper and blacker as the flames leap and sparkle upwards, causing the stems of the surrounding trees, and the foliage of the overhanging branches, to stand out in bold relief, bathed in a ruddy glow, which converts the forest chamber into a snug, home-like place, and fills the mind with agreeable, home-like feelings and meditations. It seems as if the spirit, in the one case, were set loose and etherealised to enable it to spread itself over the plains of cold, cheerless, illimitable space, and left to dwell upon objects too wide to grasp, too indistinct to comprehend; while, in the other, it is recalled and concentrated upon matters circumscribed and congenial, things of which it has long been cognisant, and which it can appreciate and enjoy without the effort of a thought.

Some such thoughts and feelings passed rapidly through the minds of Harry and Hamilton while the accountant struck a light and kindled a roaring fire of logs, which he had cut and arranged there on a previous occasion. In the middle of the space thus brilliantly illuminated, the snow had been cleared away till the moss was uncovered, thus leaving a hole of about ten feet in diameter. As the snow was quite four feet deep, the hole was surrounded with a pure white wall, whose height was further increased by the masses thrown out in the process of digging to nearly six feet. At one end of this space was the large fire which had just been kindled, and which, owing to the intense cold, only melted a very little of the snow in its immediate neighbourhood. At the other end lay a mass of flat pine branches, which were piled up so thickly as to form a pleasant elastic couch, the upper end being slightly raised so as to form a kind of bolster, while the lower extended almost into the fire. Indeed, the branches at the extremity were burnt quite brown, and some of them charred. Beside the bolster lay a small wooden box, a round tin kettle, an iron tea-kettle, two tin mugs, a hatchet, and a large bundle tied up in a green blanket. There were thus, as it were, two apartments, one within the other—namely, the outer one, whose walls were formed of tree-stems and thick darkness, and the ceiling of green boughs; and then the inner one, with walls of snow, that sparkled in the firelight as if set with precious stones, and a carpet of evergreen branches.

Within this latter our three friends were soon actively employed. Poor Hamilton’s moccasins were speedily removed, and his friends, going down on their knees, began to rub his feet with a degree of energy that induced him to beg for mercy.

“Mercy!” exclaimed the accountant, without pausing for an instant; “faith, it’s little mercy there would be in stopping just now.—Rub away, Harry. Don’t give in. They’re coming right at last.”

After a very severe rubbing, the heels began to show symptoms of returning vitality. They were then wrapped up in the folds of a thick blanket, and held sufficiently near to the fire to prevent any chance of the frost getting at them again.

“Now, my boy,” said the accountant, as he sat down to enjoy a pipe and rest himself on a blanket, which, along with the one wrapped round Hamilton’s feet, had been extracted from the green bundle before mentioned—“now, my boy, you’ll have to enjoy yourself here as you best can for an hour or two, while Harry and I visit the traps. Would you like supper before we go, or shall we have it on our return?”

“Oh, I’ll wait for it, by all means, till you return. I don’t feel a bit hungry just now, and it will be much more cheerful to have it after all your work is over. Besides, I feel my feet too painful to enjoy it just now.”

“My poor fellow,” said Harry, whose heart smote him for having been disposed at first to treat the thing lightly, “I’m really sorry for you. Would you not like me to stay with you?”

“By no means,” replied Hamilton quickly. “You can do nothing more for me, Harry; and I should be very sorry if you missed seeing the traps.”

“Oh, never mind the traps. I’ve seen traps, and set them too, fifty times before now. I’ll stop with you, old boy, I will,” said Harry doggedly, while he made arrangements to settle down for the evening.

“Well, if you won’t go, I will,” said Hamilton coolly, as he unwound the blanket from his feet and began to pull on his socks.

“Bravo, my lad!” exclaimed the accountant, patting him approvingly on the back; “I didn’t think you had half so much pluck in you. But it won’t do, old fellow. You’re in my castle just now, and must obey orders. You couldn’t walk half a mile for your life; so just be pleased to pull off your socks again. Besides, I want Harry to help me to carry up my foxes, if there are any;—so get ready, sirrah!”

“Ay, ay, captain,” cried Harry with a laugh, while he sprang up and put on his snow-shoes.

“You needn’t bring your gun,” said the accountant, shaking the ashes from his pipe as he prepared to depart, “but you may as well shove that axe into your belt; you may want it—Now, mind, don’t roast your feet,” he added, turning to Hamilton.

“Adieu!” cried Harry, with a nod and a smile, as he turned to go. “Take care the bears don’t find you out.”

“No fear. Good-bye, Harry,” replied Hamilton, as his two friends disappeared in the wood and left him to his solitary meditations.